ating, stupid, incapable, he is in his true
place only at the table; his judgment is worthless except in the matter
of dishes. As he values these far more highly than others in which we
are interested, as well as he, let us without regret leave this
business of the palate to him.

It is weak precaution to fear that gluttony may take root in a child
capable of anything else. As children, we think only of eating; but in
youth, we think of it no more. Everything tastes good to us, and we
have many other things to occupy us.

Yet I would not use so low a motive injudiciously, or reward a good
action with a sugar-plum. Since childhood is or should be altogether
made up of play and frolic, I see no reason why exercise purely
physical should not have a material and tangible reward. If a young
Majorcan, seeing a basket in the top of a tree, brings it down with a
stone from his sling, why should he not have the recompense of a good
breakfast, to repair the strength used in earning it?

A young Spartan, braving the risk of a hundred lashes, stole into a
kitchen, and carried off a live fox-cub, which concealed under his
coat, scratched and bit him till the blood came. To avoid the disgrace
of detection, the child allowed the creature to gnaw his entrails, and
did not lift an eyelash or utter a cry.[23] Was it not just that, as a
reward, he was allowed to devour the beast that had done its best to
devour him?

A good meal ought never to be given as a reward; but why should it not
sometimes be the result of the pains taken to secure it? Emile will
not consider the cake I put upon a stone as a reward for running well;
he only knows that he cannot have the cake unless he reaches it before
some other person does.

This does not contradict the principle before laid down as to
simplicity in diet. For to please a child's appetite we need not
arouse it, but merely satisfy it; and this may be done with the most
ordinary things in the world, if we do not take pains to refine his
taste. His continual appetite, arising from his rapid growth, is an
unfailing sauce, which supplies the place of many others. With a
little fruit, or some of the dainties made from milk, or a bit of
pastry rather more of a rarity than the every-day bread, and, more than
all, with some tact in bestowing, you may lead an army of children to
the world's end without giving them any taste for highly spiced food,
or running any risk of cloying their palate