_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. _Prof. 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 is 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. _M. Jour._ There is nothing but prose or verse?