The Life of the Fly 



One of the tall, funnel-shaped glasses which 

 I was admiring just now is standing, full of 

 ammonia, on the table. All, coughing and 

 snivelling, dip their handkerchiefs into it and 

 rub the moist rag over their hats and coats. 

 In this way, the red stains left by the horrible 

 compound are made to disappear. A drop of 

 ink will presently restore the colour com- 

 pletely. 



And the oxygen ? There was no more quest- 

 ion, I need hardly say, of that. The feast of 

 learning was over. Never mind: the dis- 

 astrous lesson was a mighty event for me. I 

 had been inside the chemist's laboratory; I had 

 had a glimpse of those wonderful jars and 

 tubes. In teaching, what matters most is not 

 the thing taught, whether well or badly 

 grasped: it is the stimulus given to the pupil's 

 latent aptitudes; it is the fulminate awakening 

 the slumbering explosives. One day, I shall 

 obtain on my own account that oxygen which 

 ill-luck has denied me; one day, without a mas- 

 ter, I shall yet learn chemistry. 



Yes, I shall learn this chemistry, which 

 started so disastrously. And how? By teach- 

 ing it. I do not recommend that method to 

 anybody. Happy the man who is guided by a 

 master's word and example ! He has a smooth 



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