[6] No doubt this sarcasm is applicable to those teachers who talk so as to say nothing. A teacher ought, on the contrary, to speak only so as to be understood by the child. He ought to adapt himself to the child's capacity; to employ no useless or conventional expressions; his language ought to arouse curiosity and to impart light. BOOK SECOND. The second book takes the child at about the fifth year, and conducts him to about the twelfth year. He is no longer the little child; he is the young boy. His education becomes more important. It consists not in studies, in reading or writing, or in duties, but in well-chosen plays, in ingenious recreations, in well-directed experiments. There should be no exaggerated precautions, and, on the other hand, no harshness, no punishments. We must love the child, and encourage his playing. To make him realize his weakness and the narrow limits within which it can work, to keep the child dependent only on circumstances, will suffice, without ever making him feel the yoke of the master. The best education is accomplished in the country. Teaching by means of things. Criticism of the ordinary method. Education of the senses by continually exercising them. Avoid taking too many Precautions. This is the second period of life, and the one at which, properly speaking, infancy ends; for the words _infans_ and _puer_ are not synonymous.[1] The first is included in the second, and means _one who cannot speak_: thus in Valerius Maximus we find the expression _puerum infantem_. But I shall continue to employ the word according to the usage of the French language, until I am describing the age for which there are other names. When children begin to speak, they cry less often. This step in advance is natural; one language is substituted for another. As soon as they can utter their complaints in words, why should they cry, unless the suffering is too keen to be expressed by words? If they then continue to cry, it is the fault of those around them. After Émile has once said, "It hurts me," only acute suffering can force him to cry. If the child is physically so delicate and sensitive that he naturally cries about nothing, I will soon exhaust the fountain of his tears, by making them ineffectual. So long as he cries, I will not go to him; as soon as he stops, I will run to him. Very soon his method of calling me will be to keep quiet, or at the utmost, to utter a single cry. Children judge of the meaning of signs by their palpable effect; they have no other rule. Whatever harm a child may do himself, he very rarely cries when alone, unless with the hope of being heard.