ometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or
sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed
a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.
But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their
pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered, not having any
apparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover any
clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference. By great
application, however, and after having remained during the space of
several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names
that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; I
learned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.' I
learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and his
companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one,
which was 'father.' The girl was called 'sister' or 'Agatha,' and the
youth 'Felix,' 'brother,' or 'son.' I cannot describe the delight I
felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and
was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other words
without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as 'good,'
'dearest,' 'unhappy.'

"I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of
the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I
felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw
few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the
cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the
superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,
often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that
he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a
cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure
even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled
with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I
generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after
having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus
with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my
unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his
friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more
cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old
man.

"I could menti