the end; her tone of voice, her dress, the quaint fashion of her hair.
The constant recollection of her shows, among many other signs, how he
cherished that conception of the true unity of a man's life, which
places it in a closely-linked chain of active memories, and which most
of us lose in wasteful dispersion of sentiment and poor fragmentariness
of days. When the years came in which he might well say, I have no
pleasure in them, and after a manhood of distress and suspicion and
diseased sorrows had come to dim those blameless times, he could still
often surprise himself unconsciously humming the tune of one of his
aunt's old songs, with many tears in his eyes.[10]

This affectionate schooling came suddenly to an end. Isaac Rousseau in
the course of a quarrel in which he had involved himself, believed that
he saw unfairness in the operation of the law, for the offender had
kinsfolk in the Great Council. He resolved to leave his country rather
than give way, in circumstances which compromised his personal honour
and the free justice of the republic. So his house was broken up, and
his son was sent to school at the neighbouring village of Bossey (1722),
under the care of a minister, "there to learn along with Latin all the
medley of sorry stuff with which, under the name of education, they
accompany Latin."[11] Rousseau tells us nothing of the course of his
intellectual instruction here, but he marks his two years' sojourn under
the roof of M. Lambercier by two forward steps in that fateful
acquaintance with good and evil, which is so much more important than
literary knowledge. Upon one of these fruits of the tree of nascent
experience, men usually keep strict silence. Rousseau is the only person
that ever lived who proclaimed to the whole world as a part of his own
biography the ignoble circumstances of the birth of sensuality in
boyhood. Nobody else ever asked us to listen while he told of the
playmate with which unwarned youth takes its heedless pleasure, which