hirsty. I can't do anything.
JEAN JACQUES. Do you think I am better off than you, or that I would
mind crying too, if crying would do for my breakfast? There is no use
in crying; the thing is, to find our way. Let me see your watch; what
time is it?
EMILE. It is twelve o'clock, and I haven't had my breakfast.
JEAN JACQUES. That is true. It is twelve o'clock, and I haven't had
my breakfast, either.
EMILE. Oh, how hungry you must be!
JEAN JACQUES. The worst of it is that my dinner will not come here to
find me. Twelve o'clock? it was just this time yesterday that we
noticed where Montmorency is. Could we see where it is just as well
from this forest?
EMILE. Yea; but yesterday we saw the forest, and we cannot see the
town from this place.
JEAN JACQUES. That is a pity. I wonder if we could find out where it
is without seeing it?
EMILE. Oh, my dear friend!
JEAN JACQUES. Did not we say that this forest is--
EMILE. North of Montmorency.
JEAN JACQUES. If that is true, Montmorency must be--
EMILE. South of the forest.
JEAN JACQUES. There is a way of finding out the north at noon.
EMILE. Yes; by the direction of our shadows.
JEAN JACQUES. But the south?
EMILE. How can we find that?
JEAN JACQUES. The south is opposite the north.
EMILE. That is true; all we have to do is to find the side opposite
the shadows. Oh, there's the south! there's the south! Montmorency
must surely be on that side; let us look on that side.
JEAN JACQUES. Perhaps you are right. Let us take this path through
the forest.
EMILE. [_Clapping his hands, with a joyful shout._] Oh, I see
Montmorency; there it is, just before us, in plain sight. Let us go to
our breakfast, our dinner; let us run fast. Astronomy is good for
something!
Observe that even if he does not utter these last words, they will be
in his mind. It matters little so long as it is not I who utter them.
Rest assured that he will never in his life forget this day's lesson.
Now if I had only made him imagine it all indoors, my lecture would
have been entirely forgotten by the next day. We should teach as much
as possible by actions, and say only what we cannot do.
Robinson Crusoe.
In his legitimate preference for teaching by the eye and hand and by
real things, and in his aversion to the barren and erroneous method of
teaching from books alone, Rousseau, constantly carried away by the
passionate ardor of his n
|