“Let it be in the ‘Wealth of Nations,’ then,” said Mary.
“Or in a more entertaining book still,” added her father: “you like books of travels, Anna.”
Anna stared.
“They will give us excellent information on the corn question; particularly one about a family of back settlers in America, and another about the Japan islands.”
Anna was obliged to carry away this riddle unsolved: she determined to look into Johnson’s Dictionary for the word politics on the first opportunity.
CHAPTER VIII.
Profitable Pleasure.
Signor Elvi breakfasted with Mr. Byerley the next morning, as the girls were to receive their Italian lesson before they attended the meeting. They understood the grammar of the language well, and had read many good Italian authors. Their purpose in learning of Signor Elvi was to improve their pronunciation, and to accustom themselves to converse in his language. He brought with him a volume of Alfieri, thinking that nothing could afford a better preparation for the speeches they were going to hear. There was no opportunity for Anna to fall into a reverie. Each of the three took a character of a tragedy, and the dialogue was kept up briskly, ‘libertà, libertà,’ being still the theme. When Mr. Byerley looked up from his newspaper, he was amused to see the eagerness of each—his friend declaiming with all his natural volubility, and his pupils, scarcely able to keep up with him, yet catching the spirit of the sentiment, and charmed with the grandeur of the expression. They were taken by surprise when the carriage drove to the door, and they found it was half-past ten o’clock. While they hastened to put on their bonnets, their father remarked to his friend, that they seemed to have enjoyed their lesson.
“Ah, yes! and I also; for they have a mind and soul for what they do. It is as great a pleasure to me to teach such as they, as it is a toil with some others of my pupils. There will be no need to take strong coffee before sitting down with your daughters.”
“Strong coffee!”
“Yes; you will wonder, perhaps, but you have no idea how great is the drudgery to a teacher, how trying it is to his nerves, to teach those who have no mind, or who will not use it; who are for ever careless about necessary rules, and whom there is no chance of leading on beyond the rules. I have now one pupil, I might say several, but I will instance one, who writes exercises, month after month, and makes as many gross mistakes now as at first; and all my efforts to make her think and observe are in vain; and so we shall go on till she thinks herself too old to be taught, or fancies she has learned enough because she is grown up, and all this time she will never read Alfieri.”