astronomy,
even ethics and international law, by way of giving my pupil an exalted
idea of all these sciences, and a strong desire to learn them. When I
have done, the boy will not have understood a single idea out of all my
pedantic display. He would like to ask again, "What is the use of
finding out where the east is?" but dares not, lest I might be angry.
He finds it more to his interest to pretend to understand what he has
been compelled to hear. This is not at all an uncommon case in
superior education, so-called.

But our Emile, brought up more like a rustic, and carefully taught to
think very slowly, will not listen to all this. He will run away at
the first word he does not understand, and play about the room, leaving
me to harangue all by myself. Let us find a simpler way; this
scientific display does him no good.

We were noticing the position of the forest north of Montmorency, when
he interrupted me with the eager question, "What is the use of knowing
that?" "You may be right," said I; "we must take time to think about
it; and if there is really no use in it, we will not try it again, for
we have enough to do that is of use." We went at something else, and
there was no more geography that day.

The next morning I proposed a walk before breakfast. Nothing could
have pleased him better; children are always ready to run about, and
this boy had sturdy legs of his own. We went into the forest, and
wandered over the fields; we lost ourselves, having no idea where we
were; and when we intended to go home, could not find our way. Time
passed; the heat of the day came on; we were hungry. In vain did we
hurry about from place to place; we found everywhere nothing but woods,
quarries, plains, and not a landmark that we knew. Heated, worn out
with fatigue, and very hungry, our running about only led us more and
more astray. At last we sat down to rest and to think the matter over.
Emile, like any other child, did not think about it; he cried. He did
not know that we were near the gate of Montmorency, and that only a
narrow strip of woodland hid it from us. But to him this narrow strip
of woodland was a whole forest; one of his stature would be lost to
sight among bushes.

After some moments of silence I said to him, with a troubled air,

"My dear Emile, what shall we do to get away from here?"

EMILE. [_In a profuse perspiration, and crying bitterly._] I don't
know. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm t