Little Charles, as he sat eagerly attentive in his corner of the sofa, heard of the trumpet of the common gnat{2}, and of its proboscis, which serves at once for an awl, a saw, and a pump. {Footnote 2: St. Pierre, Études de la Nature.} "Are there any more such things," exclaimed Charles, "in these books?" "A great many," said Mr. Russell. "I'll read them all," cried Charles, starting up--"may I? may not I, aunt?" "Ask Mr. Russell," replied his aunt: "he who is obliged to give you the pain of learning what is tiresome, should have the pleasure of rewarding you with entertaining books. Whenever he asks me for Dr. Darwin and St. Pierre, you shall have them. We are both of one mind. We know that learning Latin is not the most amusing occupation in the world, but still it must be learned." "Why," said Charles modestly, "you don't understand Latin, aunt, do you?" "No," said Mrs. Howard, "but I am a woman, and it is not thought necessary that a woman should understand Latin; nor can I explain to you, at your age, why it is expected that a gentleman should; but here are several gentlemen present--ask them whether it be not necessary that a gentleman should." Charles gathered all the opinions, and especially that of the entertaining traveller. Mrs. Holloway, the silly lady, during that part of the conversation from which she might have acquired some knowledge, had retired to the further end of the room to a game at trictrac with an obsequious chaplain. Her game being finished, she came up to hear what the crowd round the sofa could be talking about; and hearing Charles ask the opinions of the gentlemen about the necessity of learning Latin, she nodded sagaciously at Mrs. Howard, and, by way of making up for former errors, said to Charles, in the most authoritative tone,-- "Yes, I can assure you, Mr. Charles, I am quite of the gentlemen's opinion, and so is every body--and this is a point upon which I have some right to speak; for my Augustus, who is only a year and seven months older than you are, sir, is one of the best scholars of his age, I am told, in England. But then, to be sure, it was flogged into him well at first, at a public school, which, I understand, is the best way of making good scholars." "And the best way of making boys love literature?" said Mrs. Howard. "Certainly, certainly," said Mrs. Holloway, who mistook Mrs. Howard's tone of inquiry for a tone of assertion, a tone more familiar to her--"certainly, ma'am, I knew you would come round to my notions at last. I'm sure my Augustus must be fond of his Latin, for never in the vacations did I ever catch him with any English book in his hand!" "Poor boy!" said Charles, with unfeigned compassion, "And when, my dear Mrs. Howard," continued Mrs. Holloway, laying her hand upon Mrs. Howard's arm, with a yet untasted pinch of snuff between her fingers, "when will you send Mr. Charles to school?"