I am always surprised when I find a dog that is willing to learn, and am still more surprised when I find a child that is not willing. A dog learns for the benefit of his master, a child learns for his own benefit. I knew a dog who was taught to go to market. His master would put the money and a memorandum of the things that were to be bought in the basket, and the dog would then carry the basket to market by the handle, which he held in his mouth. Then the market-man would take out the money and the memorandum, and would put in the things that were wanted, and the dog would carry them home. Now this was of no advantage to the dog, except from the honorable satisfaction which he derived from it in the thought that he was usefully employed, and that he was considered worthy to sustain important trusts and responsibilities. So far as his own ease and comfort was concerned, it would have been better for him never to have learned such an art, and then, instead of carrying a heavy basket to and fro along the street, he could have spent his time in basking in the sun, or playing about with other dogs. There is no necessity for a dog to learn any thing for his own advantage. Nature teaches him every thing that he requires for himself. He has to study and learn only for the benefit of his master.
It is very different from this with a child. When a child is in his earliest infancy, he is the most ignorant and helpless being imaginable. He can not speak; he can not walk; he can not stand; he can not even creep along the floor. Then, besides, he knows nothing. He does not know any of the persons around him; he does not know the light; he is bewildered, and filled with a stupid kind of wonder when he looks at it; he does not know how to open and shut his hand, or to take hold of any thing; and long after this, when he begins to learn how to take hold of things, he is so ignorant and foolish, that he is as ready to take hold of a burning candle as any thing else.
Children learn for their own benefit.
Of course, to fit such a child to perform the duties of a man in such a busy world as this, he has a great many things to learn. And what is to be particularly noticed is, that he must learn every thing himself. His parents can not learn for him. His parents can teach him—that is, they can show him how to learn—but they can not learn for him. When they show him how to learn, if he will not learn, and if they can not contrive any means to make him, there is an end of it. They can do no more. He must remain ignorant.
The little child willing to learn to walk.
Here is a picture of a child that is willing to learn. His name is Josey. His parents are teaching him to walk. He is just old enough to learn to walk, and you see by his countenance, although it is turned somewhat away from us, that he is pleased with the opportunity. He is glad that he is going to learn to walk, and that his parents are going to teach him. I do not suppose that he feels grateful to his father and mother for being willing to take so much pains to teach him, for he is not old enough for that. But he is glad, at any rate, and he is willing to try.
His mother is helping him to begin, and his father is encouraging him to step along—holding out his hand, so that Josey may take hold of it as soon as he gets near enough, and thus save himself from falling. Since Josey is willing to learn, it gives his father and mother great pleasure to teach him. Thus all three are happy together.
Some children unwilling to learn.