flash
of lightning, and instantly fills all space. The veil of shadows is
cast down and disappears. We know our dwelling-place once more, and
find it more beautiful than ever. The verdure has taken on fresh vigor
during the night; it is revealed with its brilliant net-work of
dew-drops, reflecting light and color to the eye, in the first golden
rays of the new-born day. The full choir of birds, none silent, salute
in concert the Father of life. Their warbling, still faint with the
languor of a peaceful awakening, is now more lingering and sweet than
at other hours of the day. All this fills the senses with a charm and
freshness which seems to touch our inmost soul. No one can resist this
enchanting hour, or behold with indifference a spectacle so grand, so
beautiful, so full of all delight.

Carried away by such a sight, the teacher is eager to impart to the
child his own enthusiasm, and thinks to arouse it by calling attention
to what he himself feels. What folly! The drama of nature lives only
in the heart; to see it, one must feel it. The child sees the objects,
but not the relations that bind them together; he can make nothing of
their harmony. The complex and momentary impression of all these
sensations requires an experience he has never gained, and feelings he
has never known. If he has never crossed the desert and felt its
burning sands scorch his feet, the stifling reflection of the sun from
its rocks oppress him, how can he fully enjoy the coolness of a
beautiful morning? How can the perfume of flowers, the cooling vapor
of the dew, the sinking of his footstep in the soft and pleasant turf,
enchant his senses? How can the singing of birds delight him, while
the accents of love and pleasure are yet unknown? How can he see with
transport the rise of so beautiful a day, unless imagination can paint
all the transports with which it may be filled? And lastly, how can he
be moved by the beautiful panorama of nature, if he does not know by
whose tender care it has been adorned?

Do not talk to the child about things he cannot understand. Let him
hear from you no descriptions, no eloquence, no figurative language, no
poetry. Sentiment and taste are just now out of the question.
Continue to be clear, unaffected, and dispassionate; the time for using
another language will come only too soon.

Educated in the spirit of our principles, accustomed to look for
resources within himself, and to have reco