I remember that, one year, I raised a
prodigious crop of fine _melons_, under hand-glasses; and I learned how
to do it from a gardening-_book_; or, at least, that book was necessary
to remind me of the details. Having passed part of an evening in talking
to the boys about getting this crop, "Come," said I, "now let us _read
the book."_ Then the book came forth, and to work we went, following
very strictly the precepts of the book. I read the thing but once, but
the eldest boy read it, perhaps, twenty times over; and explained all
about the matter to the others. Why, here was a _motive_! Then he had to
tell the garden labourer _what to do_ to the melons. Now, I will engage,
that more was really _learned_ by this single _lesson_, than would have
been learned by spending, at this son's age, a year at school; and he
_happy_ and _delighted_ all the while. When any dispute arose among them
about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pursuits, they, by
degrees, found out the way of settling it by reference to some book;
and, when any difficulty occurred as to the meaning, they referred to
me, who, if at home, _always instantly attended to them_ in these
matters.
They began writing by taking words out of _printed books_: finding out
which letter was which, by asking me, or asking those who knew the
letters one from the other; and, by imitating bits of my writing, it is
surprising how soon they began to write a hand like mine, very small,
very faint-stroked, and nearly plain as print.
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