Charles, (laughing.) That’s just my whine, mother; but the plain truth of the matter is, I do get discouraged. I don’t see any use in working so hard.
Mother. But you would not have to work so hard—or at least not near so long, if you would go to work in the right way.
Charles. But it is the working at all that I object to, mother. I don’t know but I might like study better if I could see any use in it; but as long as I can read and write, I shan’t look like a fool; and what is the use of cracking my brains about anything more?
Mother. I should be very sorry to have you crack your brains with study, Charles. Do you feel as if there were any danger of it?
Charles. Why no, not exactly. But why need I study?
Mother. You cannot conceive of any pleasure in acquiring knowledge, then?
Charles. Oh, yes; I like to know all I can by reading interesting books; I like to read some histories, and biographies, and travels. That all comes very easy; that is amusement.
Mother. Are you sure that while skimming books in this manner, for amusement, you are really laying up much knowledge that you can make useful? Do you ever stop to reflect upon it and arrange it?—or is it all jumbled together in your mind? Have you never made strange blunders in talking about the very books you had read?
Charles. Why, yes, I must own that I have; and I have got laughed at, sometimes.
Mother. That is only one of the evils to which you will be exposed by being superficial. My dear, you cannot get along even respectably in well-informed society without disciplining your mind to habits of attention and reflection; and one great advantage of youthful study is, that it does so discipline the mind.