Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Farm life -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
They were walking through a tangled woodland, along one of the
deep mountain gorges; the naturalist stopping frequently to
give closer notice to something. He stood still here to
examine a piece of rock.
"Will you let me give you one little direction," said he
producing his little hammer, -- "_two_ little direction, or I
should call them big direction, which may be of some goot to
you?"
"I wish you would, sir."
"In de first place den, don't never go half way through
nozing. If some thing you want to know is in de middle of dat
rock," said he striking it, "knock de rock all to pieces but
what you will have it. I mean, when you begin, finish, and do
it goot."
"That is what I think, Mr. Herder."
"In de second place," continued Mr. Herder, illustrating part
of his former speech by hammering off some pieces of rock from
the mass, -- "don't never think that no kind of knowledge is of
no use to you. Dere is _nozing_ dat it is not goot to know. You
may say, it is no use to you to know dat colour of de outside
of dis rock, and dis colour of de inside; you are wrong; you
ought to learn to know it if you can; and you will find de use
before you die, wizout you be a very misfortunate man. Dere is
nozing little in dis world; all is truth, or it will help you
find out truth; and you cannot know too much."
"I believe that, sir; and I will remember it."
"And when you have learned English and Latin and Greek, you
will learn German?" said the naturalist, putting the fragments
of rock in his pocket.
Winthrop laughed at his expression.
"Promise me dat you will. You will find it of use to you too."
"But all useful things are not possible," said Winthrop.
"I wish it was possible for you to bring down that bird," said
the naturalist, gazing up towards a pair of huge wings above
them; -- "It would be very useful to me." The creature was
sailing through the distant ether in majestic style, moving
its wings so little that they seemed an emblem of powerful
repose.
"That is a white-headed eagle," said Winthrop.
"I know him!" said the naturalist, still gazing. "I wish I had
him; -- but _dat_ is a thing in which is no goot; as he is too
far off for me to reach him. Better for him! And it will be
better for us to go home, for the day is not very long."
Neither was Mr. Herder's stay in the mountains after that. At
parting he assured Winthrop "he should be very glad to do him
all the goot he could do, if he would only let him know how."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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