Thoughtful people who have suffered in learning--all people suffer in
learning, thoughtful ones the most--wonder how they can make the task
less painful for others. It will always cause us sorrow as well as joy
to learn, and many people spend their lives in trying to have as
little sorrow as possible come with the learning of the young. When
such people are true and good and thoughtful and _have infinite
kindness_, they are teachers; and the teachers impose tasks upon us
severely, perhaps, but with kind severity. They study us and music,
and they seek out the work each one of us must perform in order that
we may keep the heart-springs pure and uncovered. Further than this,
they find the way by which we shall lead the waters of life which flow
out of the heart-springs. They find the way whither they should flow
best.

Often in the doing of these things we find the lessons hard and
wearisome, infinitely hard to bear, difficult, and not attractive. We
wonder why all these things should be so, and we learn in the moment
we ask that question that these painful tasks are the price we are
paying for the development of our talent. That is truly the purpose of
a lesson. And the dear teacher, wise because she has been painfully
over the road herself, knows how good and necessary it is for us to
labor as she directs.

Let us suppose you play the piano. There will be two kinds of
lessons--one will be for the fingers, one for the mind. But really the
mind also guides the finger-work; and the heart must be in all. Your
exercises will give you greater power to speak with the fingers. Every
new finger-exercise in piano-playing is like a new word in language.
Provided with it, you can say more than you could before. The work for
the mind is the classics. These are compositions by the greater and