There is always a certain difficulty involved in the instruction of young people, and it is this: the knowledge one imparts to them is such that one finds oneself constrained to outstrip their years. Without waiting for their understanding to mature, one is obliged to impart knowledge to them, which, in the natural order of things, can only be understood by minds which are more practiced and experienced. It is this which is the source of the endless prejudices of the schools – prejudices which are more intractable and frequently more absurd than ordinary prejudices. And it is this, too, which is the source of that precocious prating of young thinkers, which is blinder than any other self-conceit and more incurable than ignorance. This difficulty, however, is one which cannot be entirely avoided, and the reason is this. In an epoch which is characterized by an elaborately complex social organization, a knowledge of higher things is regarded as a means to advancement and comes to be thought of as a necessity of life. Such knowledge ought by nature, however, really to be regarded merely as one of life's adornments – one of life's inessential beauties, so to speak. Nonetheless, even in this branch of instruction, it is possible to make public education more adapted to nature, even though it will not be possible to bring it into perfect harmony with it.