was the tutoring of the young son of a British nobleman. He felt
that his charge was not making the progress that his parents had
a right to expect, and he was now conscientiously explaining this
fact to the boy's mother.

"It's not that he isn't bright," he was saying; "if that were true
I should have hopes of succeeding, for then I might bring to bear
all my energies in overcoming his obtuseness; but the trouble is
that he is exceptionally intelligent, and learns so quickly that I
can find no fault in the matter of the preparation of his lessons.
What concerns me, however, is that fact that he evidently takes
no interest whatever in the subjects we are studying. He merely
accomplishes each lesson as a task to be rid of as quickly as
possible and I am sure that no lesson ever again enters his mind
until the hours of study and recitation once more arrive. His sole
interests seem to be feats of physical prowess and the reading of
everything that he can get hold of relative to savage beasts and
the lives and customs of uncivilized peoples; but particularly do
stories of animals appeal to him. He will sit for hours together
poring over the work of some African explorer, and upon two
occasions I have found him setting up in bed at night reading Carl
Hagenbeck's book on men and beasts."

The boy's mother tapped her foot nervously upon the hearth rug.

"You discourage this, of course?" she ventured.

Mr. Moore shuffled embarrassedly.

"I--ah--essayed to take the book from him," he replied, a slight