ected the philosopher in a strong and
sympathetic voice. "I understand you now, and ought never to have
spoken so crossly to you. You are altogether right, save in your
despair. I shall now proceed to say a few words of consolation."

SECOND LECTURE.

(_Delivered on the 6th of February 1872._)

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Those among you whom I now have the pleasure of
addressing for the first time and whose only knowledge of my first
lecture has been derived from reports will, I hope, not mind being
introduced here into the middle of a dialogue which I had begun to
recount on the last occasion, and the last points of which I must now
recall. The philosopher's young companion was just pleading openly and
confidentially with his distinguished tutor, and apologising for
having so far renounced his calling as a teacher in order to spend his
days in comfortless solitude. No suspicion of superciliousness or
arrogance had induced him to form this resolve.

"I have heard too much from your lips at various times," the
straightforward pupil said, "and have been too long in your company,
to surrender myself blindly to our present systems of education and
instruction. I am too painfully conscious of the disastrous errors and
abuses to which you were wont to call my attention; and yet I know
that I am far from possessing the requisite strength to meet with
success, however valiantly I might struggle to shatter the bulwarks
of this would-be culture. I was overcome by a general feeling of
depression: my recourse to solitude was not arrogance or
superciliousness." Whereupon, to account for his behaviour, he
described the general character of modern educational methods so
vividly that the philosopher could not help interrupting him in a
voice full of sympathy, and crying words of comfort to him.

"Now, silence for a minute, my poor friend," he cried; "I can more
easily understand you now, and should not have lost my patience with
you. You are altogether right, save in your despair. I shall now
proceed to say a few words of comfort to you. How long do you suppose
the state of education in the schools of our time, which seems to
weigh so heavily upon you, will last? I shall not conceal my views on
this point from you: its time is over; its days are counted. The first
who will dare to be quite straightforward in this respect will hear
his honesty re-echoed back to him by thousands of courageous souls.
For, at bottom, there is a t