He has reached the perfection of childhood; he has lived the life of a child; his progress has not been bought at the price of his happiness, he has gained both.  While he has acquired all the wisdom of a child, he has been as free and happy as his health permits.  If the Reaper Death should cut him off and rob us of our hopes, we need not bewail alike his life and death, we shall not have the added grief of knowing that we caused him pain; we will say, “His childhood, at least, was happy; we have robbed him of nothing that nature gave him.”

The chief drawback to this early education is that it is only appreciated by the wise; to vulgar eyes the child so carefully educated is nothing but a rough little boy.  A tutor thinks rather of the advantage to himself than to his pupil; he makes a point of showing that there has been no time wasted; he provides his pupil with goods which can be readily displayed in the shop window, accomplishments which can be shown off at will; no matter whether they are useful, provided they are easily seen.  Without choice or discrimination he loads his memory with a pack of rubbish.  If the child is to be examined he is set to display his wares; he spreads them out, satisfies those who behold them, packs up his bundle and goes his way.  My pupil is poorer, he has no bundle to display, he has only himself to show.  Now neither child nor man can be read at a glance.  Where are the observers who can at once discern the characteristics of this child?  There are such people, but they are few and far between; among a thousand fathers you will scarcely find one.

Too many questions are tedious and revolting to most of us and especially to children.  After a few minutes their attention flags, they cease to listen to your everlasting questions and reply at random.  This way of testing them is pedantic and useless; a chance word will often show their sense and intelligence better than much talking, but take care that the answer is neither a matter of chance nor yet learnt by heart.  A man must needs have a good judgment if he is to estimate the judgment of a child.

I heard the late Lord Hyde tell the following story about one of his friends.  He had returned from Italy after a three years’ absence, and was anxious to test the progress of his son, a child of nine or ten.  One evening he took a walk with the child and his tutor across a level space where the schoolboys were flying their kites.  As they went, the father said to his son, “Where is the kite that casts this shadow?” Without hesitating and without glancing upwards the child replied, “Over the high road.”  “And indeed,” said Lord Hyde, “the high road was between us and the sun.”  At these words, the father kissed his child, and having finished his examination he departed.  The next day he sent the tutor the papers settling an annuity on him in addition to his salary.

What a father! and what a promising child!  The question is exactly adapted to the child’s age, the answer is perfectly simple; but see what precision it implies in the child’s judgment.  Thus did the pupil of Aristotle master the famous steed which no squire had ever been able to tame.