There be some sports are painful, and their labour
  Delight in them sets off.

And the “labour” of the boy or girl who is really wrapped up in a play of Shakespeare or is striving to express the growing sense of beauty in fitting forms of language, is no less truly spiritual discipline because it is felt not as pain but as interest and delight.

It is fortunately no part of my business to endeavour to instruct teachers in the methods of imparting the love and knowledge of literature.  But the value of literary studies in education depends so much upon the spirit in which they are pursued that I may perhaps be permitted a few more words on the practical side of the subject.  I have already repeated the truism that no one can impart enthusiasm who is not himself possessed of it:  but even the lover of literature sometimes lacks that clear consciousness of aim, and that sympathetic understanding of the personality of his pupil; which are both essential to successful teaching.  Just as the clever young graduate is tempted to dictate his own admirable history notes to a class of boys, or to puzzle them with the latest theories in archaeology or philosophy, so the literary teacher is apt to dazzle his pupils with brilliant but to them unintelligible criticism, or to surfeit them with literary history, or to impose upon them an inappropriate literary diet because it happens to suit his maturer taste or even his caprice.  No one is likely to deny that such errors are possible; but I should not venture to speak so decidedly, if I were not aware of having too often fallen into them myself.  And the only safeguard for the teacher is the familiar “Keep your eye on the object”—­and that in a double sense.  We must have a clear conception of our aim, and also a living sympathy with our pupils.  I have attempted to indicate the aim, the equipment of boy or girl for civilised life and for spiritual enjoyment.  It will be sympathy with our pupils which will chiefly dictate both the method and the material of our instruction.  In the early stages of education this sympathy is generally to be found either in parents, if they are fond of literature, or in the teacher, who is usually of the more sympathetic sex.  The stories and poetry offered to children nowadays seem to be, as a rule, sympathetically, if sometimes rather uncritically, chosen.  The importance of voice and ear in receiving the due impression of literature is recognised; and the value of the child’s own expression of its imaginations and its sense of rhythm and assonance is understood.  Probably more teachers than Mr. Lamborn supposes would heartily subscribe to the faith which glows in his delightful little book The Rudiments of Criticism, though there must be very few who would not be stimulated by reading it.