Optics, is it? That seems to
me very different from blowing soap-bubbles. I do hate to be cheated
into learning big words, and understanding things, when I am playing."

"The child has no brains for science, I fear!" thought the fairy. "I
almost repent my bargain! However, I will not be discouraged quite yet,
perhaps the proper chord has not been struck." Accordingly, she
invented for him various pretty toys, since then copied by men: the
kaleidoscope, with its infinite variety of shifting figures; the orrery;
the prism; the burning-glass; the microscope and the telescope; and the
magic lantern, with its vast variety of entertainment. Another magic
spell she put into operation, by which, with the aid of an instrument in
a little square box, the sun was compelled to paint landscapes and
portraits, so true to life that they seemed only to lack motion. Rudolph
was very happy, playing with these beautiful and ingenious toys: he
thought them more entertaining than marbles, or battledore and
shuttle-cock. But when the _rationale_ came to be explained, his
preceptress found her labor was all lost--there was no mistaking the
fact that the child had an invincible dislike to science.

"I believe I see my mistake," thought the unconquerable Fairy. "I began
at the wrong end. Children _feel_ before they _think_. I must elevate
his fancy, and train his imagination by communion with forms of beauty.
I see that he cannot yet penetrate into the reason of things around him;
but he can feel the power of the external, and when his nature is
sufficiently exalted and matured, then he will of his own accord seek
knowledge. Yes, sentiment comes first, and reflection will follow in its
train."

Accordingly, the Fairy Queen commenced his poetical training, and for
some time she flattered herself that it advanced charmingly. As the
attraction of novelty had worn off from her extensive pleasure-grounds,
she caused the landscape daily to change, so that all the beauties,
scattered over the wide earth, were in succession placed before him. At
one time, the lofty Alps rose to the sky, filling his soul with the
sense of the sublime; and the chamois, with fleet foot, climbed their
snowy pinnacles; while the deep, frowning precipices and the dark
valleys gave him a sensation of terror, not unmingled with pleasure.
Suddenly the scene would change, and he stood upon an island of the
Pacific, a little emerald gem of the ocean. Around the coral reefs the