PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY. This is a praiseworthy feeling. _Nam sine doctrina vita est quasi mortis imago._ You understand this, and you have, no doubt, a knowledge of Latin? M. JOUR. Yes; but act as if I had none. Explain to me the meaning of it. PROF. PHIL. The meaning of it is, that, without science, life is an image of death. M. JOUR. That Latin is quite right. PROF. PHIL. Have you any principles, any rudiments, of science? M. JOUR. Oh, yes! I can read and write. PROP. PHIL. With what would you like to begin? Shall I teach you logic? M. JOUR. And what may this logic be? PROF. PHIL. It is that which teaches us the three operations of the mind. M. JOUR. What are they--these three operations of the mind? PROF. PHIL. The first, the second, and the third. The first is to conceive well by means of universals; the second, to judge well by means of categories; and the third, to draw a conclusion aright by means of the figures Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio, Baralipton, etc. M. JOUR. Pooh! what repulsive words! This logic does not by any means suit me. Teach me something more enlivening. PROF. PHIL. Will you learn moral philosophy? M. JOUR. Moral philosophy? PROF. PHIL. Yes. M. JOUR. What does it say, this moral philosophy? PROF. PHIL.It treats of happiness, teaches men to moderate their passions, and-- M. JOUR. No, none of that. I am devilishly hot-tempered, and morality, or no morality, I like to give full vent to my anger whenever I have a mind to it. PROF. PHIL. Would you like to learn physics? M. JOUR. And what have physics to say for themselves? PROF. PHIL. Physics are that science which explains the principles of natural things and the properties of bodies; which discourses of the nature of the elements, of metals, minerals, stones, plants, and animals; which teaches us the cause of all the meteors, the rainbow, the _ignis fatuus,_ comets, lightning, thunder, thunderbolts, rain, snow, hail, and whirlwinds. M. JOUR. There is too much hullaballoo in all that, too much riot and rumpus. PROF. PHIL. Very good. M. JOUR. And now I want to intrust you with a great secret. I am in love with a lady of quality, and I should be glad if you would help me to write something to her in a short letter which I mean to drop at her feet. PROF. PHIL. Very well. M. JOUR. That will be gallant, will it not? PROF. PHIL. Undoubtedly. Is it verse you wish to write to her? M. JOUR. Oh, no! not verse. PROF. PHIL. You only wish prose? M. JOUR. No. I wish for neither verse nor prose. PROF. PHIL. It must be one or the other. M. JOUR.Why? PROF. PHIL. Because, sir, there is nothing by which we can express ourselves except prose or verse.