Quintillian, after having noted the different characters of the mind in children, draws, in a few words, the image of what he judged to be a perfect scholar; and certainly it is a very amiable one:  “For my part,” says he, “I like a child who is encouraged by commendation, is animated by a sense of glory, and weeps when he is outdone.  A noble emulation will always keep him in exercise, a reprimand will touch him to the quick, and honour will serve instead of a spur.  We need not fear that such a scholar will ever give himself up to sullenness.” Mihi ille detur puer, quem laus excitet, quem gloria juvet, qui virtus fleut.  Hic erit alendus ambitu:  hunc mordebit objurgetio; hunc honor excitabit; in hoc desidium nunquam verebor.

How great a value soever Quintillian sets upon the talents of the mind, he esteems those of the heart far beyond them, and looks upon the others as of no value without them.  In the same chapter from whence I took the preceding words, he declares, he should never have a good opinion of a child, who placed his study in occasioning laughter, by mimicking the behaviour, mien, and faults of others; and he presently gives an admirable reason for it:  “A child,” says he, “cannot be truly ingenuous, in my opinion, unless he be good and virtuous; otherwise, I should rather choose to have him dull and heavy, than of a bad disposition.” Non dubit spem bonoe indolis, qui hoc initandi studio petit, ut rideatur.  Nam probus quoque imprimus erit ille vere ingeniosus:  alioquinon pejus duxerim tardi esse ingenii, quam mali.

He displays to us all these talents in the eldest of his two children, whose character he draws, and whose death he laments in so eloquent and pathetic a strain, in the beautiful preface to his sixth book.  I shall beg leave to insert here a small extract of it, which will not be useless to the boys, as they will find it a model which suits well with their age and condition.

Alter having mentioned his younger son, who died at five years old, and described the graces and beauties of his countenance, the prettiness of his expression, the vivacity of his understanding, which began to shine through the veil of childhood:  “I had still left me,” says he, “my son Quintillian, in whom I placed all my pleasure and all my hopes, and comfort enough I might have found in him; for, having now entered into his tenth year, he did not produce only blossoms like his younger brother, but fruits already formed, and beyond the power of disappointment.—­I have much experience; but I never saw in any child, I do not say only so many excellent dispositions for the sciences, nor so much taste, as his masters know, but so much probity, sweetness, good nature, gentleness, and inclination to please and oblige, as I discerned in him.”

“Besides this, he had all the advantages of nature, a charming voice, a pleasing countenance, and a surprising facility in pronouncing well the two languages, as if he had been equally born for both of them.