and preaches to his tutor is the sort of person we meet with in the world in which Emile and such as he are living.”  This witty M. de Formy could not guess that this little scene was arranged beforehand, and that the juggler was taught his part in it; indeed I did not state this fact.  But I have said again and again that I was not writing for people who expected to be told everything.] and a conjuror has a wax duck floating in a basin of water, and he makes it follow a bit of bread.  We are greatly surprised, but we do not call him a wizard, never having heard of such persons.  As we are continually observing effects whose causes are unknown to us, we are in no hurry to make up our minds, and we remain in ignorance till we find an opportunity of learning.

When we get home we discuss the duck till we try to imitate it.  We take a needle thoroughly magnetised, we imbed it in white wax, shaped as far as possible like a duck, with the needle running through the body, so that its eye forms the beak.  We put the duck in water and put the end of a key near its beak, and you will readily understand our delight when we find that our duck follows the key just as the duck at the fair followed the bit of bread.  Another time we may note the direction assumed by the duck when left in the basin; for the present we are wholly occupied with our work and we want nothing more.

The same evening we return to the fair with some bread specially prepared in our pockets, and as soon as the conjuror has performed his trick, my little doctor, who can scarcely sit still, exclaims, “The trick is quite easy; I can do it myself.”  “Do it then.”  He at once takes the bread with a bit of iron hidden in it from his pocket; his heart throbs as he approaches the table and holds out the bread, his hand trembles with excitement.  The duck approaches and follows his hand.  The child cries out and jumps for joy.  The applause, the shouts of the crowd, are too much for him, he is beside himself.  The conjuror, though disappointed, embraces him, congratulates him, begs the honour of his company on the following day, and promises to collect a still greater crowd to applaud his skill.  My young scientist is very proud of himself and is beginning to chatter, but I check him at once and take him home overwhelmed with praise.

The child counts the minutes till to-morrow with absurd anxiety.  He invites every one he meets, he wants all mankind to behold his glory; he can scarcely wait till the appointed hour.  He hurries to the place; the hall is full already; as he enters his young heart swells with pride.  Other tricks are to come first.  The conjuror surpasses himself and does the most surprising things.  The child sees none of these; he wriggles, perspires, and hardly breathes; the time is spent in fingering with a trembling hand the bit of bread in his pocket.  His turn comes at last; the master announces it to the audience with all ceremony; he goes up looking somewhat shamefaced and takes out