Are you hungry, my dear? — I am not hungry now

— Do you know what is the superlative of faim ? — No. - — It is gratta! faim. Are you sometimes very hungry? — I am very hungry when I get up, at six or seven o'clock in the morning. — Are you still hungry after breakfast ? — I am no longer hungry then, of course. — What is your

principal food ? — Bread, méat, and potatoes. — What méat do you prefer? — Beef, roast-beef (rosbif). — Are you English? — I am American, but, like the English, I like roast beef. — What bread do you prefer ? — The bread of my country, corn bread. — Do you eat fruit for breakfast ? — Yes, every day. — What fruits do you prefer ? — I like them ail. — Do you eat many nuts? — No, I prefer juicy fruits to dry fruits. They say they are more healthful. I like peaches, strawberries, and good pears very much. — I prefer currants ; and cherries, when they are good, the beautiful cherries of France. What is the superlative of beaucoup ? — Très beaucoup. — No, my dear, that is not French. Say beaucoup, beaucoup. — Well, I like good peaches very, very much, the beautiful peaches of America.

3. George, hère is a beautiful little flower ; it is a germandef. Take it, look at it. Look at it again for a long while. Look into the heart of its calyx. — Oh, how beautiful it is ! I cannot stop looking at it. — Are you charmed ? — It is like a fascination. The more I look at it, the more I love it. — Présent it to mademoiseile's sister. The more you see her, the more you love her, do you not? The little flower speaks French. It says to the little girl : "The more I see you, the more I love you.'1 Kneel, my dear boy, and présent the smiling germander. Do not rise ; remain on your knees and listen to the chaffinch that is singing on the tree in the garden, and the larks singing in the heavens. — May I rise, sir? — Rise, my dear. You are right ; beards do not grow at twelve years of âge.

i. It is raining to-day, and it is cold. The weather is very unpleasant. We say in French, le temps est mauvais, and il fait mauvais. Both expressions are good. Use them both in your conversation. Yesterday and the day before yesterday it was delightful, neither cold nor warm, and the sky was blue. What will the weather be to-morrow and the day after to-morrow? We do not know. God alone knows it. God knows everything, does he not ? and man knows so little ! The Greek philosopher, Socrates, was right in saying that he knew nothing, and Pascal, the great French philosopher of the seventeenth century, said also with truth : " Man does not know the whole of anything."

There are four seasons. They are called in French le printemps, l'ête\ l'automne, V hiver. There are twelve months in the year : Janvier, février, mars, avril, mai, jitin, juillet, août, septembre, octobre, novembre, décembre. Which is the pleasantest month ? — It is sometimes May, sometimes June. When May is pleasant it is very pleasant. — Which is the pleasantest of the four seasons ? — Spring. — Do you think so ? In America spring is generally unpleasant. March is often very unpleasant. It is terrible in Boston. April is rarely pleasant, and May is, as you hâve said, one year pleasant and unpleasant another. — That is true ; our pleasantest season is the fall. The American autumn is the finest of ail autumns. The end of September, the whole of October, and the first part of November, are delightful. Alas ! thèse beautiful days pass as quickly as the most disagreeable days; more quickly even ; they seem so short to us !

2. Time is divided into three parts : the présent, the past, and the future. Which of thèse three divisions is the longest ? Which is the shortest ? — The présent is the shortest division of time. The past and the future are very long. I do not knovv which is the longer of the two. Perhaps they are equally long. — Which division of time belongs to us ? — The smallest, the présent, which is very small, a point in the vast circle of time, almost nothing. That is ail that we possess. The présent passes immediately. Time moves (marche) rapidly, and it moves continually. It is like the river that flows ceaselessly to the océan, whither it bears its waters. The past is like this vast océan. The présent moves on (va) to lose itself in it, and never returns. And does the future belong to us?

— A small part of the future perhaps, we cannot know what part. Who knows whether he will be alive to-morrow or this evening, or in an instant ? Do we look into the future ? Are we curious to know it ? — We do look into it, we try to read it, but in vain. We cannot know it.

— Is it a misfortune ? — It is a great blessing, on the contrary. To see in the future the dark days of our life, sufferings, sickness, and, above ail, the death of those we love, and the end of our own existence what a sad spectacle !

i. It is early in the morning when Master Fox sees Master Raven perched upon a tree in the forest. He had not yet breakfasted, and was very hungry. The bird, too, had not breakfasted, but, more fortunate than the little quadruped, he held his breakfast in his beak, a pièce of cheese,

or a whole cheese, as La Fontaine says, which he had stolen from the neighboring farm (ferme). Will he eat his cheese? It is a question. He thinks he will eat it, but who knows ? Like man, the raven proposes, but God disposes. He would surely hâve eaten his cheese if the fox had not seen it. — Is he afraid of the fox ? Why should he be afraid of him? He cannot take his cheese from him. The fox has no wings, the raven has ; it is easy for him to fly away (s'envoler). — True, he ought to fly away ; but see, he is looking at the fox, who is at the foot of the tree, and is saluting him respectfully, and he is listening attentively to the words which he is speaking. — Why does Master Fox address his remarks (discours) to Master Raven? — To hâve the cheese. He says to him things most delightful to hear ; he assures him that he is pretty and handsome. The bird is greatly pleased at hearing thèse tender compliments. " If your voice is as beautiful as your plumage," says the flatterer, "you are the phœnix of birds." The raven is charmed, fascinated ; and joyful, very joyful, beside himself, transported and carried away with joy, he opens his beak wide to sing his most beautiful song. Look ! the cheese falls, Master Fox has seized it already, and there he is eating his dupe's breakfast with ail his heart.

2. Do you pity the dupe of this fable, my dear? — No one pitiés dupes. We laugh at them and make fun of them. — Do you esteem flatterers? — I detest them. — The fox is a liar, is he not ? He spoke falsely when he told the raven that he was handsome ; he spoke contrary to his conviction, with intent to deceive. — Yes. — But did he not say that he was not lying, that he was speaking sans mentir ? — Yes, he did as ail liars do. It is their

habit to déclare that they alvvays speak the truth, that they never lie. He who speaks the. truth does not need to swear that he is speaking the truth. He lias tvvo short and simple words, yes and no. That is enough. I believe that man's words. — You are right, he never will deceive you. Do you not sometimes listen to the former, madame, the liar, the flatterer ? — I would rather not listen to him : I knovv he is dangerous ; but he is so éloquent ! He convinces us easily that we hâve a beautiful voice, that we sing well, that we possess great beauty or much intelligence, a noble heart, and a hundred virtues. — Yes, and we listen with pleasure to thèse words, because we flatter ourselves, because we believe that our voice is more beautiful than it is, because we imagine that we sing well, when in reality we sing as badly as the raven, because we think we hâve more beauty or intellect than we hâve, and that we possess a great number of virtues that we hâve not. Must we not conclude from this that self-love is the greatest of ail our flatterers? If that flatterer did not exist, we would not listen to the other flatterers ; we would shut the door upon them.

1. The deaf are greatly to be pitied (à plaindre). Their infirmity is one of the greatest of human misfortunes. Those who are deaf from birth do not speak. They are called in French sourds-muets. There are now schools for deaf-mutes, where the pupils learn to read and write. This instruction develops their intelligence, fîts them to mingle with other men, and thus diminishes their misfortune considerably. But alas ! we cannot give them the

pleasures of the ear, the pleasure of hearing the sound of a loved voice, the music of song and of instruments, the songs of birds and the soft hum of the insects.

Are we completely deaf during sleep? — Surely not. If we were deprived of hearing while we are asleep, noise would not waken us. If you knock on a deaf person's door, he does not reply to your summons. Noise does not exist for him. But when any one knocks at our doc r in the morning, and even at night, at the time when we sleep the soundest, we hear the noise. If we did not hear the noise we should not awake. If you had not heard some one knock at your door this morning at six o'clock, you would not hâve awakened, my little friend, and you would be sleeping perhaps this very minute (à cette heure).

2. When a person stops his ears, he does not hear; when we do not listen, we do not understand. My dear George, if you stop your ears you will not hear me speaking, and if you do not listen you will not understand my words. Is it not true that you would not understand if you stopped your ears? Would you hâve heard the other day the interesting conversation that Master Fox addressed to Master Raven if you had stopped your ears?

— I should not hâve heard it. — Did you understand it?

— Perfectly. I listened with both ears to the fox talking.

— Would you hâve understood it if you had not listened ?

— No, sir, for we must (il faut) listen in order to understand. — The fox was éloquent, was he not ? — Yes, and the raven was a good listener. If he had not been so good a listener, I am sure that the fox would not hâve talked so well. It is impossible to talk well when one addresses a hearer who does not listen ; his distraction distracts the orator and discourages him. I would as lief talk to a wali.

— You talk very well, ray friend. — That is because you listen very well, sir. If you were not a good listener, I should talk very poorly. Your attention gives me courage.

— You see that Méré was right in saying that good listeners make good talkers. Do they know how to listen in France ? — You hâve told us that they do, and it cannot be doubted ; for if people did not know how to listen in France, they would not know how to talk in France : there would not be great orators in that country, and Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Thiers, Guizot, Gambetta, would not hâve had the éloquence that has rendered them so powerful in the Christian pulpit or in the political tribune.

1. There are domestic animais and wild animais. Among the wild animais are some that are ferocious. Are you not afraid of thèse, my friend ? — I am very much afraid of them. — Which is the strongest of the ferocious animais? Do you know which is the most ferocious animal ? When the tiger meets a lion is he afraid ? Does he flee ? Would you be afraid if you met a lion, a tiger, a wolf, or a wild-cat ? Of which of the four would you be the most afraid ? Would you run away ? Jules Gérard says that the lion is not dangerous in the daytime, when he is digesting his food (il fait sa digestion) . At night he is terrible, because he is hungry and he seeks his prey. Hâve you read Jules Gérard's book, La Chasse au Lion ?

— I hâve not read it. — It is very interesting. The author was a French officer, who has related his hunts /chasses) in Africa. He was not afraid of the lion. He went to wait for him alone in the night, in the forest, to

offer hirn battle. This duel was a festival for him. When he heard the lion roar (rugir) as he descended the mountain, his heart beat for joy. At the approach of his terrible adversary, he put himself bravely in his path, gun in hand, and did not begin the combat before crying to him : si Take care of yourself î " What a struggle between thèse two brave créatures, the beast and the man !

2. The animal kingdom (règne) embraces animais of very différent and very numerous species. Man is the most intelligent of the animais. He is a reasonable animal. Reason governs his life and his actions. Not always. It governs them only when he is truly reasonable. Man is not the only intelligent animal. There are others that are endowed with intelligence ; there are some that are very intelligent, — more intelligent, I think, than certain men ; the bées (abeilles), for example, and the ants (fourmis). Would you not be curious, madame, to know what passes in the world of the ants, what society thèse marvellous little créatures form, how they are governed, how they communicate among themselves, what they think, what they feel, what they say, — yes, what they say, for they hâve a sort of language surely, and understand each other as we understand each other. Do they live in a republic or under a king, or under a queen like the bées? We do not know. Hâve they a religion ? Do they believe in another life, and in the immortality of their soûls? We cannot reply to any of thèse questions. If man understood the ants, and if the ants understood man, thèse two beings would probably hâve a high idea of one another. What idea do the ants hâve of us? Perhaps they will tell us in the other world, if our soûls meet their soûls. Mr. Agassiz believed and hoped that he would meet the soûls

of ants and of the other animais in another life. Do you not prefer his faith in the soûls of animais to the opinions of Descartes and of the seventeenth century upon this great question.