write, don't they learn something else--languages, for instance?"

"Of course," he said; "sometimes even before they can read, they can
talk French, which is the nearest language talked on the other side
of the water; and they soon get to know German also, which is talked
by a huge number of communes and colleges on the mainland. These are
the principal languages we speak in these islands, along with English
or Welsh, or Irish, which is another form of Welsh; and children pick
them up very quickly, because their elders all know them; and besides
our guests from over sea often bring their children with them, and
the little ones get together, and rub their speech into one another."

"And the older languages?" said I.

"O, yes," said he, "they mostly learn Latin and Greek along with the
modern ones, when they do anything more than merely pick up the
latter."

"And history?" said I; "how do you teach history?"

"Well," said he, "when a person can read, of course he reads what he
likes to; and he can easily get someone to tell him what are the best
books to read on such or such a subject, or to explain what he
doesn't understand in the books when he is reading them."

"Well," said I, "what else do they learn? I suppose they don't all
learn history?"

"No, no," said he; "some don't care about it; in fact, I don't think
many do. I have heard my great-grandfather say that it is mostly in