'
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 

 
 ill! I8$IW9OTH*g 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY. HARRY AND LUCY. 
 ORANG-E MAN. FRANK. 
 
 CHERRY ORCHARD. 
 
 %> 
 
 ^? 
 
 ^* .*' 
 
 3s&*
 
 HARRY AND LUCY 
 
 WITH THE STOBIES Of 
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY, THE ORANGE MAN, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD, 
 
 Jin JUtoss J0 
 
 MARIA EDGEW 
 
 JLUTHOR OF "FRANK," "ROSAMOND," " 
 ETC., F 
 
 CR(
 
 EDGEWORTH'S 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 IN offering these little books to those kind mothers, 
 who attend to the early instruction of their children, the 
 authors beg leave to prefix a few observations on early 
 education, which have occurred to them, since the for- 
 mer parts of these books were published. 
 
 We found, to our high gratification, during a visit, 
 which we lately paid to England, that the attention of 
 parents, in every rank of society, was turned to the early 
 education of their children. 
 
 Formerly, a child was left, during the first eight or 
 ten years, to chance, in every part of its education, ex- 
 cept its book, and keeping its clothes clean the mother 
 or the nursery maid attended to the latter, for their own 
 sakes the father, remembering the praises that had 
 been bestowed upon himself,when he was a child,was anx- 
 ious that his son should learn to read as soon as possible. 
 
 The object was to cram children with certain com- 
 mon-places of knowledge, to furnish them with answers 
 to ready-made questions, to prove that the teachers, 
 whether parent, schoolmaster, or private tutor, had kept 
 the pupil's memory, at least, at hard work, and had con- 
 fined his limbs and his mind, for many hours in the day 
 to study.
 
 4 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 At present, the attention of parents is more extended ; 
 they endeavor to give their pupils leasonable motives for 
 industry and application. They watch the tempers and 
 dispositions of children ; they endeavor to cultivate the 
 general powers of the infant understanding, instead of 
 laboring incessantly to make them reading, writing, and 
 calculating machines. 
 
 To assist them in these views, parents have now a 
 number of excellent elementary books. Such a variety 
 of these have of late years been published, that, by a 
 proper use of them, more general knowledge can now be 
 acquired, by a child, with two hours' daily application, 
 than could have been acquired, fifty years ago, by the 
 constant labor often hours in the four and twenty. 
 
 There are persons, who think that the ease with which 
 knowledge is thus obtained, and its dispersion through 
 ihe wide mass of society, is unfavorable to the advance- 
 ment of science ; that knowledge easily acquired is ea- 
 sily lost ; that it makes scarcely any salutary im- 
 pression upon the mind, impeding, instead of invigo- 
 rating its native force ! they assert, that the principal 
 use of early learning is to inure the young mind to 
 application ; and that the rugged path of scholastic 
 discipline taught the foot of the learner to tread more 
 firmly, and hardened him to bear the labor of climbing 
 the more difficult ascents of literature and science. 
 
 Undoubtedly, the infant mind should be inured to la- 
 bor ; hut it can scarcely be denied, that it is better to 
 bestow that labor upon what is within the comprehen- 
 sion of a child, than to cram its memory with what must 
 be unintelligible. A child is taught to walk upon smooth 
 ground : and no persons, in their senses, would put an 
 infant on its legs, for the first time, on rugged rocks. 
 
 It seems to be a very plain direction to a teacher, to 
 proceed from what is known to the next step, which is 
 not known ; but there are pedagogues, who choose the 
 retrograde motion, of going from what is little known to
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 5 
 
 what is less known. Surely a child may be kept em- 
 ployed, and his faculties may he sufficiently exercised, 
 by gradual instruction, on subjects suited to his capaci- 
 ty, where every step advances ; and where the uni- 
 versal and rational incentive to application, success, is 
 perceived by the learner. 
 
 So far from thinking, that there is a royal road to any 
 science, I believe that the road must be long, but. I do not 
 think it need be rugged ; I am convinced, that a love 
 for learning may be early attained, by making it agree- 
 able ; that the listless idleness of many an excellent 
 scholar arises, not from aversion to application, but from 
 having all the family of pain associated with early in- 
 struction. By pain, I do not merely mean the pain of cor- 
 poral correction, or of any species of direct punishment. 
 Even where parents have not recourse to these, they of- 
 ten associate pain indissolubly with literature, by com- 
 pelling children to read that which they cannot under- 
 stand. One of the objects of this address to mothers is 
 to deprecate this practice, and to prevent this evil in fu- 
 ture. Let me most earnestly conjure the parents and 
 teachers, into whose hands these little volumes may 
 come, to lay any of them aside immediately, that is not 
 easily understood ; a time will come, when that which 
 is now rejected may be sought for with avidity. I am 
 particularly anxious upon this subject, because we have 
 found, from experience, that Early Lessons are not ar- 
 ranged in the order, in which, for the facility of the learn- 
 er they ought to be read. In fact, the order, in which 
 they were first published, was the order of time in which 
 they were written, and not of the matter which they 
 contained. The first part of Harry and Lucy was writ- 
 ten by me thirty-four years before Frank and Rosamond 
 were written by my daughter. Frank is the easiest to 
 be understood, and should therefore have come first ; 
 after Frank, the first part of Harry and Lucy ; then 
 Rosamond ; and, lastly, the second part of Harry and
 
 O EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Lucy, which was written long after the first part had 
 been published. This latter part should not be put into 
 the hands of pupils before they are eight years old. 
 We have heard children say, ' We love little Frank, 
 because it is easy j but we hate Harry and Lucy, be- 
 cause it is difficult.' We defer implicitly to their 
 opinion ; well educated children are, in fact, the best 
 judges of what is fit for children. Moliere's hackneyed 
 old woman was not so good a critic of comedy, as a child 
 of eight years old might be of books for infants. 
 
 Whenever, therefore, a child, who has in general a 
 disposition for instruction, shows a dislike for any book, 
 lay it a side at once, without saying anything upon the 
 subject ; and put something before him, that is more to 
 his taste. For instance, in the following little books, diffe- 
 rent parts of them are suited to the tastes of different chil- 
 dren, as well as to children of different ages. It is therefore 
 strongly recommended to parents, to select what they 
 find upon trial to be the best for their immediate purpose, 
 and to lay aside the rest for another opportunity. We 
 have repeatedly heard parents and teachers complain of 
 the want of books for their pupils; can there be a better 
 proof of the general improvement, that has taken place of 
 late years, in the modes of instruction, than this desire for 
 early literature. When I was a child, I had no resource 
 but Newbury's little books and Mrs. Teachum ; and now 
 when every year produces something new, and some- 
 thing good, for the supply of juvenile libraries, there is 
 still an increasing demand for children's books. In a se- 
 lection of this sort, teachers of prudence and experience 
 are cautious not to be deceived by a name, or by an allu- 
 ring title-page ; they previously examine what they put 
 into the hands of their scholars; they know that want of 
 information in a child is preferable to confused and ob- 
 scure instruction ; that, for their pupils to know any one 
 thing well, and to be able to convey to others in appropri- 
 ate language, the little knowledge which they may have
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 7 
 
 acquired, is far preferable to a string: of ready-made 
 answers to specific questions?, which have been merely 
 committed to memory ; that an example of proper con- 
 duct, of a noble sentiment, the glow of 6nthuaiaem, raised 
 by a simple recital of a generous action, have more influ- 
 ence upon the tempers and understanding of children, 
 than the most pompous harangues of studied eloquence. 
 
 In choosing books for young people, the enlightened 
 parent will endeavor to collect such as tend to give gen- 
 eral knowledge, and to strengthen the understanding. 
 Books, which teach particular sciences, or distinct bran- 
 ches of knowledge, should be sparingly employed. In 
 one word, the mind should be prepared for instruction ; 
 the terms of every art and every science should, in some 
 degree, be familiar to the child, before anything like a 
 specific treatise on the subject should be read. It is by no 
 means our intention to lay down a course of early instruc- 
 tion, or to limit the number of books, that may, in succes- 
 sion, be safely put into the hands of the pupil. Mrs. Bar- 
 bauld's ' Lessons for Children from three to four years 
 old,' have obtained a prescriptive pre-eminence in the 
 nursery. These are fit for a child's first attempts to read 
 sentences ; and they go on, in easy progression, to such 
 little narratives as ought to follow. Her eloquent hymns 
 may next be read. They give an early taste for the su- 
 blime language and feelings of devotion. Scriptural sto- 
 ries have been selected in some little volumes : these 
 may succeed to Mrs. Barbauld's hymns. No narrative 
 makes a greater impression upon the mind than that of 
 Joseph and his brethren : not the story of Joseph, ex- 
 panded and adorned by what is falsely called fine wri- 
 ting ; but the history of Joseph in the book of Genesis. 
 
 When children can read fluently, the difficulty is not 
 to supply them with entertaining books, but to prevent 
 them from reading too much and indiscriminately. To 
 give them only such as cultivate the moral feelings, and 
 create a taste for knowledge, while they, at the same
 
 8 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 time, amuse and interest. A few, and quite sufficient 
 for this purpose, may be named ; for instance, ' Fabu- 
 lous Histories ;'* ' Evenings at Home;' 'Berquin's Chil- 
 dren's Friend ;' ' Sandtbrd and Merton ;' ' Little Jack ;' 
 'TheChildren'sMiscellany;' ' Bob the Terrier ;' 'Dick 
 the Pony;' 'The Book of Trades;' ' The Looking-glass, 
 or History of a young Artist;' 'Robinson Crusoe;' 'The 
 Travels of Rolando ;' a book which I mention with some 
 hesitation, because, though it contains much knowledge, 
 collected from various authors, yet it is too much mixed 
 with fiction. ' Mrs. Wakefield on Instinct' I name with 
 more confidence, because the facts and the fiction are ju- 
 diciously separated ; so that the reader is in no danger 
 of mistaking truth for falsehood. To this juvenile libra- 
 ry, perhaps, may be added parts of ' White's Natural 
 History of Selbourne ;' and parts of ( Smellie's Philos- 
 ophy of Natural History.' 
 
 These books are not here named in the order in which 
 they should be read ; that must vary according to the 
 tastes and capacities of the pupils, and according to va- 
 rious accidental circumstances, which it is impossible to 
 foresee or enumerate. But here it is necessary to ob- 
 serve, that scarcely any one of these books will probably be 
 suited, in every part, to any child. Children should not 
 be forced to read a book through, but suffered to pass 
 over what they do not understand, and to select that 
 which suits their tastes, which will generally be found 
 to be what they perfectly comprehend. There is no 
 danger that this permission should lead to a taste for des- 
 ultory reading, if the pupils are confined to a certain 
 collection of books. They will, at different ages, and as 
 their knowledge enlarges,recur to those parts of the books 
 which they had rejected ; and, the taste for reading in- 
 creasing, they will, in time, become perfectly acquainted 
 
 [* This excellent work has been published by Munroe & Francis, un- 
 der the title of the ' Robins : or Fabulous Histories ;' also new and or- 
 namented editions of ' Berquin's Children's Friend ;' ' tandford and 
 Merton ;' ' Robinson Crusoe;' Barlmnld ; &c.&c ]
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 9 
 
 witli everything worth attention in their juvenile library. 
 For instance, that excellent work, 'Evenings at 
 Home,' contains lessons and narratives, suited to different 
 capacities, from seven or eight, to twelve or thirteen 
 years of age. It would be highly injurious to the work 
 and to the young readers, to insist, or even to permit, that 
 the whole should be perused at an age, when the whole 
 cannot be understood. The same may be said of ' The 
 Children's Friend,' and ' Sandford and Merton,' the last 
 volume of which is suited to young men at college ; 
 while parts of the first two are fit for children of seven or 
 eight, and other parts for ten or twelve years old. In 
 these books, the selection may be safely trusted to the 
 young readers ; in others, the selection must be made by 
 the parent or teacher : for instance, in ' Smellie's Philos- 
 ophy of Natural History,' where there will be found 
 many, entertaining and instructive facts, suited to chil- 
 dren from eight to ten years, mixed with a great deal, 
 both of what they cannot understand, and of what 
 they ought not to read. 
 
 The ' Book of Trades' we have just mentioned as a 
 most useful book, and it should always precede Joyce's 
 ' Scientific Dialogues.' Mr. Joyce has contributed much 
 to the ease of scientific instruction ; and parents should 
 do the author the justice not to put his books too early 
 into the hands of children. 
 
 But no book, on scientific subjects, that has yet fallen 
 into our hands, exceeds Mrs. Marcet's ' Chemical Dia- 
 logues.' Some of the facts which it contains will un- 
 doubtedly be remembered ; but it is not for the chemi- 
 cal facts, that this book is so highly valuable, as for the 
 clear and easy reasoning, by which the reader is led 
 from one proposition to another. I speak from expe- 
 rience : one of my children had early acquired such an 
 eager taste for reading, as had filled her mind with % 
 multitude of facts, and images, and words, which pre- 
 vented her from patient investigation, and from thoso
 
 10 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 habits of thinking, and that logical induction, without 
 which, no science, nor any series of truths, can be taught' 
 The ' Chemical Dialogues' succeeded in giving a turn 
 to the thoughts of my pupil, which has produced the 
 most salutary effects in her education. Romantic ideas, 
 poetic images, and some disdain of common occupations, 
 seemed to clear away from her young mind ; and the 
 chaos of her thoughts formed a new and rational ar- 
 rangement. The child was ten years old at the time 
 of which I speak, and from that period her general ap- 
 plication has not been diminished, but whatever she reads, 
 poetry, history, belles lettres, or science, everything seems 
 to find its proper place, and to improve whilst it fills her 
 mind. There is still wanting a series of little books, pre- 
 paratory to Joyce's ' Scientific Dialogues.' No attempt, 
 humble as it may appear, requires so much skill or pa- 
 tience, nor could anything add more effectually to tho 
 general improvement of the infant understanding than 
 such a work. The elementary knowledge, which such 
 books should endeavor to inculcate, must be thinly scat- 
 tered in entertaining stories ; not with a view to teach 
 in play, but with the hope of arresting, for a few mo- 
 ments, that volatile attention, which becomes tired with 
 sober, isolated instruction. 
 
 Some years since, I wrote ' Poetry explained for Chil- 
 dren,' and I have found it highly useful in my own fam- 
 ily. It has not, however, been much called for. It is, 
 therefore, reasonably to be supposed, that it has not been 
 well executed. Such a book is certainly wanting ; and 
 if it became popular, it would be of more service in edu- 
 cation, than pa rents are well aware of. Nothing is earlier 
 taught to children than extracts from poetry ; they are 
 easily got by heart. If a child has a tolerable memory, 
 a good ear, and a pleasing voice, the parents are satisfied, 
 and the child is extolled for its recitation. Nine limea 
 out often, the sense of what is thus got by rote is rieg 
 lecled or misunderstood, and the little actor acquires the
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 11 
 
 pernicious habit of reading fluently and committing to 
 memory what it does not comprehend. There is still 
 something worse in this practice. The understand- 
 ing is lelt dormant, while the memory is too much exer- 
 cised j whereas the object most desirable is to strengthen 
 the memory, only by storing it with useful and accurate 
 knowledge. 
 
 Parents are usually anxious to teach history early. 
 'This should not be done at all, or should be done with 
 great caution. There are certain well known volumes 
 of Mrs. Trimmer's, with prints of Grecian, Roman, and 
 English history, which are useful to impress the principal 
 facts, in history, on the minds of children ; and we have 
 lately met with some tiny volumes, under the name of 
 Alfred Mills'* ' Pictures of English, and of Roman, and 
 Grecian History.' The miniature prints in these are far 
 superior to what are usually met with in such books ; 
 and the language, and selection of the facts, in these 
 miniken histories are, in general, excellent. Abridg- 
 ments of history, such as Cooper's short Histories of En- 
 gland and France, Goldsmith's of Greece and Rome, 
 Lord Woodhouslee's excellent book, or any others, which 
 merely give the events, without mixture of political 
 reflections, may be read between the ages of eight and 
 ten ; but it is absurd to put Hume, Robertson, Macauley, 
 Gibbon, or any of our philosophical historians' works, into 
 the hands of children. All that should, or can be done, 
 effectually, is to give the young pupils a clear view of the 
 outline of history, and to fix in their memories the lead- 
 ing facts in the proper order of time. For this purpose, 
 there are several genealogical and historical charts, tha* 
 may be useful, even at the early age of nine or ten : 
 Le Sage's chart contains the fullest, and Stork's ' Stream 
 of Time' by far the clearest view of chronology and his- 
 
 * There is an odd omission, which should be noticed, in Mr. Alfred 
 Mills' tiny history of England he omits the life, and records only thf 
 tltath >(' Charles I.
 
 12 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 -ory. There are some careless omissions in these, which 
 will probably be remedied in future editions. Priestley's 
 Charts of History and of Biography can never be obso- 
 lete To me, his Chart of history is not so clear either aa 
 Le Sage or as the Stream of Time; but I hear from 
 those, whose judgment I respect, that it conveys to their 
 minds a clear and comprehensive view of its subject. 
 
 For the purpose of fixing in the minds of children a few 
 ol'the leading facts of history, chronology and geography, 
 I think, the technical help of what is called artificial 
 memory may be safely employed. The succession of 
 Roman emperors, of English kings, the large geograph- 
 ical divisions of the world, the order of the principal in- 
 ventions and discoveries such as those of gunpowder, 
 printing, and the mariner's compass ; the discovery of 
 America, and of the passage to India by the Cape of 
 Good Hope, &c. may be chronologically stored in the 
 memory, without injury to the understanding. With- 
 out encumbering the recollective faculty, twenty or thir- 
 ty of Gray's memorial lines may, when selected, be ea- 
 sily committed to memory. They should be recited 
 merely as jargon, till they are perfectly learned by rote; 
 then the use of the letters, in the terminations of the words, 
 which express the dates, should be explained, and the 
 pupil should be practised in the use of these : they should 
 be frequently referred to, in conversation ; the children 
 should be called upon, and made ready in the use of 
 their numerical symbols, and, at the same time, made 
 sensible of the advantage of the knowledge they have 
 thus acquired. 
 
 Any farther than this, I would avoid technical memo- 
 ry. Among the ancients, it might, in some degree, sup- 
 ply the want of printed books of reference ; but, in our 
 days, when knowledge of every sort, that has been hith- 
 erto acquired, may be immediately referred to, in every 
 common library, or in the shop of every bookseller, it is 
 needless to load the memories of children with answers to
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 13 
 
 every possible question in geography and history, 
 and with all such learning as is to be found in task 
 books. 
 
 Before I quit the subject. I may be permitted to suggest 
 to those who are composing, or who intend to compose 
 elementary books for children, that what is purely didac- 
 tic, and all general reflections, ought, as much as possible, 
 to be avoided. Action should be introduced. Action ! 
 Action ! Whether in morals or science, the thing to 
 be taught should seem to arise from the circumstances in 
 which the little persons of the drama are placed ; and on 
 the proper manner, in which this is managed, will depend 
 the excellence and success of initiatory books for children. 
 Entertaining story, or natural dialogue, induces the pupil 
 to read ; but, on the other hand, unless some useful in- 
 struction be mixed with this entertainment, nothing but 
 mere amusement will be acceptable, and it will be diffi- 
 cult to bring the attention to fix itself, without dislike, 
 upon any serious subject. 
 
 In fact, early instruction I may trust my own expe- 
 rience, in the education of a large family early instruc- 
 tion depends more upon oral communication, than upon 
 books, either task books or books of amusement, that can 
 be found for them, or, perhaps, that can be written. 
 Books should be used to recal, arrange, and imprint what 
 is learnt by the senses ; they will please the more, when 
 they give back the images, that have been slightly 
 impressed upon the memory. 
 
 I know, that it is much easier to point out what 'm desi- 
 rable, than to show distinctly the means of accomplishing 
 our wishes. How to fill up, from day to day, the aching 
 void, in the little breasts of children, is a question, that 
 cannot be easily solved. When I recommend teaching 
 as much as possible, by oral instruction, 1 have this grand 
 difficulty full in my view ; but 1 hope to point out, that 
 means may be found, by which, in some degree, it may 
 be obviated. There is scarcely any object which a child
 
 14 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 eees or touches, that may not become a subject for 
 conversation and instruction. 
 
 For instance, is the mother dressing ? the things on 
 her dressing table are objects of curiosity to the child. 
 The combs are of different sorts horn, ivory, box, and 
 tortoise shell. How can the horns of an ox be made flat, 
 so as to be cut into the shape of a comb ? What is ivo- 
 ry ? and where is tortoise shell to be had ? A cane bot- 
 tom chair frequently catches the attention of a child 
 it may be made a first lesson in weaving. At breakfast, 
 how many objects for instruction ! 
 
 The water in a basin reflects the sun its image dan- 
 ces from place to place as the water moves. A spoon re- 
 flects the face, distorted to a frightful length ; if turned in 
 another direction, the face becomes ridiculously short. 
 
 The steam rises from the urn the top is forced ofi'the 
 tea-urn or the water bursts from the spout of a tea-ket- 
 tle. The child observes that the water rises in a lump 
 of sugar, that is dipped in the tea. The cream swims ou 
 the the top of the tea milk mixes with it more readily 
 than cream. At dinner, the back bone, and fins, and gills 
 of a fish, every bone and joint of a fowl or a hare, or of 
 any joint of meat, afford subjects of remark ; and all these 
 things, though but very little should be said of them at 
 any one time, may, by degrees, be made subservient, not 
 only to amusement, but to the acquisition of real 
 knowledge. 
 
 It is by no means intended to recommend, that lectures 
 should be spoken at every meal, or that the appetites of 
 infants should be made to wait for an explanation of what- 
 ever they feed upon it is only suggested, that the com- 
 monest circumstance of life, and the commonest objects 
 that occur, may become the means of teaching useful 
 facts, and what is of more consequence, habits of obser- 
 vation and reasoning. It will be objected, that, al- 
 though the subjects which are here alluded to are famil- 
 iar and of daily occurrence in families of all ranks, pa-
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 15 
 
 rents themselves are frequently not sufficiently capable 
 of giving the instruction which is required. 
 
 To this it may be answered, that scarcely any parents 
 are so situated, that they may not, without effort, acquire, 
 from time to time, the little knowledge which they wish 
 to communicate at least so far as is requisite to ex- 
 cite and support the curiosity of their pupils. 
 
 All this may be easily effected by the higher classes of 
 parents, who have leisure to attend to their children ; and 
 those parents, who have not time themselves to pursue 
 this course of tuition, may find proper assistants, at no 
 great expense. There are, in England,many persons, 
 who would be suited to such situations widows, and 
 elderly unmarried women, who are above the station of 
 ordinary domestics, and yet are not sufficiently instructed 
 or accomplished to become governesses. Such persons 
 might be employed, to take the early care of children, 
 while the lower offices of the nursery maid might be per- 
 formed by common, uneducated servants. No person 
 should daily or hourly converse with children, or should 
 have power over them, or any share in the management 
 of their minds, who does not possess good temper, and a 
 certain degree of good sense. Accomplishments, learn- 
 ing, or even much information, in the usual sense of 
 the word, will be unnecessary for the kind of assistants 
 here described ; but the habit of speaking good lan- 
 guage, and in a good accent, is indispensable. 
 
 All the knowledge requisite for explaining common 
 objects, to children from six to eight years old, may be 
 gradually acquired, as occasion calls for it daily ; and 
 good sense, with a little practice, will soon teach the 
 teacher how to manage instruction in conversation. 
 
 In families of less affluence, where this subordinate 
 governess or attendant cannot be afforded, and when the 
 mother cannot secure a friend to assist her, or has not an 
 elder daughter to take a part in the care of the younger 
 ones, the mother must give up more of her own time to
 
 If) EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 her children, than is usual or agreeable, or else she must 
 send them to school. 
 
 Here recurs the difficulty of finding schools, where 
 children can be rationally taught; that is to say, where 
 distinct and useful knowledge may be clearly conveyed 
 to their understandings,without unnecessary confinement, 
 slavish habits, or corporal correction. To keep children 
 poring over books that they cannot understand, or cast- 
 ing up sums without making them acquainted with the 
 reasons for the rules which they mechanically follow, is 
 all that can be expected from a common schoolmaster, 
 or, to speak more properly, from a common school. Pa- 
 rents send young children to school, not only to learn 
 what is professed to be taught, but also to keep theii 
 troublesome infants out of harm's way. Were the 
 schoolmaster ever so much enlightened, or ever so well 
 disposed, he must comply with the expectations of pa- 
 rents he must keep his scholars apparently at work for 
 a given number of hours or he cannot satisfy his em- 
 ployers. 
 
 What is to be done? 
 
 The schoolmaster must appear to do as others do. 
 The remedy does not lie with the school, or with the 
 schoolmaster, but with the parents. Until parents are 
 convinced of the inefficacy of the present system, things 
 must remain as they are. When they are persuaded, 
 that a reform is necessary, the next thing is to consider 
 how it can be accomplished. 
 
 To encourage good elementary schools, more liberal 
 emoluments must be allowed to schoolmasters and mis- 
 tresses. To effect this purpose, without raising the 
 present price of schooling, nothing more is necessary 
 than to shorten the present enormous duration of school 
 hours. 
 
 Two hours' attention is more than sufficient for the 
 acquirement of any thing, which a young child ought 
 to learn in a day ; and even these two hours should be
 
 ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 17 
 
 interrupted by a relaxation of at least one-third of that 
 time. Thus four different gets, or classes, of scholars 
 might be sent daily to the same school, and for each 
 class the present prices should be paid ; so that the mas- 
 ter might have his salary considerably increased, without 
 giving up more of his time than he does at present. 
 
 The numerous schools for early education, that are 
 establishing, or that are already established in the me- 
 tropolis, and in all the large towns of England, will, if 
 they be properly managed, leave little to be desired upon 
 the subject of education, for children between the years 
 of seven and twelve. 
 
 The active modes of instruction, which Bell and Lan- 
 caster have introduced, are fully as advantageous, aa 
 the low price of schooling ; the children are prevented 
 from drowsing over their lessons, and their little bodies 
 are kept in some degree of motion. Certain petty 
 mountebankisms will, by degrees, be laid aside ; and 
 the good sense of the excellent persons, who give not 
 only their money, but their time, to the superintendence 
 of such establishments, will soon improve whatever re- 
 quires commendation. 
 
 A good system for infant management, as it relates 
 to the temper, the habits of truth, industry, cleanliness, 
 neatness, and to the forming children to habits of obser- 
 vation, reasoning, and good sense objects of far great- 
 er consequence, than the mere teaching to read and 
 write, or cast up accounts remains still to be formed 
 and executed. Such schools are wanting, both for the 
 middling classes and for the lower classes of the people 
 and I apprehend that they cannot well be formed any 
 way so well as by actual experiment. 
 
 Ladies, who have leisure, may, in the country, make 
 
 trials of whatever occurs to them on this subject. The 
 
 occupations and plays, liberty arid restraint rewards and 
 
 punishments of children, in those little communities we 
 
 2
 
 IS ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 call schools, may thus be examined and their respective 
 excellence and defects may be compared ; and in time, 
 some general results will be established. 
 
 For such an inquiry, next to a steady desire to be 
 of service, patient attention, from day to day, is what 
 must be most effectual. 
 
 These schools are what are commonly called dame 
 schools. 
 
 A dame school, such as may prepare children for 
 seminaries of a higher class, should, as much as possi- 
 ble, resemble a large private family, where the mis- 
 tress may be considered as the mother. The children 
 never should be out of the sight of their mistress, and 
 their plays, as well as their tasks, should be equally an 
 object of her care. And here, as in every other place 
 of instruction, the hours, or rather the minutes, of labor, 
 should be short, with frequent intermission ; so that the 
 habit of attention may, by degrees, be induced, and 
 may, by reiteration, be fortified. 
 
 Much of that useful enthusiasm, which animates all 
 classes of people to encourage schools for young chil- 
 dren, is owing to the female sex. They have more 
 immediate opportunities of seeing the necessity, and 
 of appreciating the merit of such schools ; their leisure 
 permits them to inspect, more minutely, establishments 
 of this sort; and their acquaintance with the early 
 propensities and habits of children enable them to di- 
 rect, successfully, their instruction ; and it may be rea- 
 sonably hoped, that, under their care, dame schools, 
 with mistresses judiciously chosen, may be established 
 whenever they are wanting. Another generation will 
 reap the advantages of what has been begun in this ; 
 and teachers of both sexes, and of various degrees ot 
 information, will hereafter be procured with ease ; and 
 elementary schools will be established in every part 
 of the united kingdom. 
 
 R.L.E.
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY: 
 
 THE LIAR AND THE BOY OF TRUTH. 
 
 VERY, very little children must not read this 
 story ; for they cannot understand it ; they 
 will not know what is meant by a liar and a 
 boy of truth. 
 
 Very little children, when they are asked a 
 question, say ' yes ' and ' no, ' without know- 
 ing the meaning of the words ; but you, chil- 
 dren, who can speak quite plain, and who 
 can tell by words what you wish for, and 
 what you want, and what you have seen, and 
 what you have done : you who understand 
 what is meant by the words ' I have done it j' 
 or ' I have not,' you may read this story : for 
 you can understand it. 
 
 Frank and Robert were two little boys, 
 about eight years old. 
 
 Whenever Frank did any thing wrong, he 
 always told his father and mother of it ; and 
 when any body asked him about any thing 
 which he had done or said, he always told the
 
 20 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 truth ; so that everybody who knew him, 
 believed him ; but nobody who knew his bro- 
 ther Robert, believed a woixi which he said } 
 because he used to tell lies. 
 
 Whenever he did any thing wrong, he ne- 
 ver ran to his father and mother to tell them 
 of it ; but when they asked him about it, he 
 denied it, and said he had not done the things 
 which he had done. 
 
 The reason that Robert told lies was, be- 
 cause he was afraid of being punished for his 
 faults, if he confessed them. He was a coward, 
 and could not bear the least pain ; but Frank 
 was a brave boy, and could bear to be punish- 
 ed for little faults : his mother never punished 
 him so much for such little faults, as she did 
 Robert for the lies which he told, and which 
 she found out afterwards. 
 
 One evening these two little boys were play- 
 ing together in a room by themselves ; their 
 mother was ironing in a room next to them, 
 and their father was out at work in the fields, 
 so there was nobody in the room with Robert 
 and Frank , but there was a little dog named 
 Trusty, lying by the fireside. 
 
 Trusty was a pretty playful little dog, and 
 the children were very fond of him. 
 
 ' Come,' said Robert to Frank, ' there is 
 Trusty lying beside the fire asleep ; let us go 
 and waken him, and he will play with us.' 
 
 ' O yes, do let us,' said Frank. So they 
 both ran together towards the hearth, to wa- 
 ken the dog.
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY. 21 
 
 Now there was a basin of milk standing 
 upon the hearth ; and the little boys did not 
 see whereabouts it stood, for it was behind 
 them ; as they were both playing with the 
 dog, they kicked it with their feet and thre\v 
 it down ; and the basin broke, and all the 
 milk ran out of it over the hearth, and about 
 the floor ; and when the little boys saw what 
 they had done they were very sorry and frigh- 
 tened ; but they did not know what to do ; 
 they stood for some time, looking at the bro- 
 ken basin and the milk, without speaking. 
 
 Robert spoke first. 
 
 ' So we shall have no milk for supper to- 
 night,' said he ; and he sighed 
 
 ' No milk for supper ! why not?' said 
 Frank ; ' is there no more milk in the house V 
 
 1 Yes, but we shall have none of it ; for do 
 not you remember, last Monday, when we 
 threw down the milk, mother said we were 
 very careless, and that the next time we did 
 so, we should have no more ; and this is the 
 next time ; so we shall have no milk for sup- 
 per to-night.' 
 
 ' Well then,' said Frank, ' we must do with- 
 out it, that's all : we will take more care ano- 
 ther time, there's no great harm done : come, 
 let us run arid tell mother. You know she 
 bid us always tell her directly when we broke 
 any thing ; so come,' said he, taking hold of 
 his brother's hand. 
 
 ' I won't come, just now,' said Robert, 
 don't be in such a hurry, Frank Can't you
 
 22 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 stay a minute ?' So Frank staid ; and then 
 he said, 'come now, Robert.' But Robert 
 answered, ' stay a little longer; for I dare not 
 go yet I am afraid.' 
 
 Little boys, I advise you never be afraid to 
 tell the truth : never say ' Stay a minute,' 
 and ' Stay a little longer ;' but run directly 
 and tell of what you have done that is wrong. 
 The longer you stay, the more afraid you will 
 grow, till at last perhaps you will not dare to 
 tell the truth at all. Hear what happened to 
 Robert. 
 
 The longer he staid the more unwilling he 
 was to go to tell his mother that he had 
 thrown the milk down ; and at last he pulled 
 his hand away from his brother, and cried, 
 1 I won't go at all, Frank, can't you go by 
 yourself?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Frank, ' so I will ; I am not 
 afraid to go by myself : I only waited for you 
 out of good nature, because I thought you 
 would like to tell the truth too.' 
 
 * Yes, so I will ; I mean to tell the truth 
 when I am asked ; but I need not go now 
 when I do not choose it : and why need you 
 go either ? Can't you wait here ? Surely my 
 mother can see the milk when she comes in.' 
 
 Frank said no more, but, as his brother 
 would not come, he went without him. He 
 opened the door of the next room, where he 
 thought his mother was ironing ; but when 
 he went in he saw that she was gone ; and 
 thought that she was gone to fetch some more
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY. 23 
 
 clothes to iron. The clothes he knew were 
 hanging on the bushes in the garden ; so he 
 thought his mother was gone there ; and he 
 ran after her to tell her what had happened. 
 
 Now whilst Frank was gone, Robert was 
 left in the room by himself; and all the while 
 he was alone he was thinking of some excu- 
 ses to make to his mother ; and he was sorry 
 that Frank was gone to tell her the truth. He 
 said to himself, ' If Frank and I both were 
 to say that we did not throw down the basin, 
 she would believe us, and we should have 
 milk for supper. I am very sorry Frank 
 would go and tell her about it.' 
 
 Just as he said this to himself, he heard his 
 mother coming down stairs 'O ho !' said he 
 to himself, ' then my mother has not been 
 out in the garden, and so Frank has not met 
 her, and cannot have told her ; so now I may 
 say what I please.' 
 
 Then this naughty, cowardly boy deter- 
 mined to tell his mother a lie. 
 
 She came into the room ; but when she saw 
 the broken basin and the milk spilled, she 
 stopped short, and cried l So, so ! What 
 a piece of work is here ! Who did this, 
 Robert?' 
 
 ' I don't know, ma'am,' said Robert, in a 
 very low voice. 
 
 ' You don't know, Robert ! tell me the 
 truth. I shall not be angry with you, child. 
 You will only lose the milk at supper ; and 
 as fcr the basin, I would rather have you
 
 24 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 break all the basins I have, than tell me one 
 lie. So don't tell me a lie. I ask you, Rob- 
 ert ; did you break the basin ?' 
 
 ' No, ma'am, I did not,' said Robert ; and 
 he coloured as red as fire. 
 
 ' Then, where's Frank 1 did he do it ?' 
 
 1 No, mother, he did not,' said Robert : 
 for he was in hopes that when Prank came 
 in, he should persuade him to say that he did 
 not do it. 
 
 ' How do you know,' said his mother, 
 ' that Frank did not do it V 
 
 1 Because because because ma' am, ' 
 said Robert, hesitating as liars do for an ex- 
 cuse, ' because I was in the room all the time 
 and I did not see him do it.' 
 
 ' Then how was the basin thrown down ? 
 If you have been in the room all the time, 
 you can tell.' 
 
 Then Robert going on from one lie to an- 
 other answered, ' I suppose the dog must 
 have done it.' 
 
 ' Did you see him do it ?' says his mother. 
 
 ' Yes,' said this wicked boy. 
 
 1 Trusty, Trusty,' said his mother, turning 
 round ; and Trusty, who was lying before 
 the fire drying his legs, which were wet with 
 the milk, jumped up and came to her. Then 
 she said ' Fie ! fie ! Trusty !' pointing to the 
 milk. ' Get me a switch out of the garden, 
 Robert ; Trusty must be beat for this.' 
 
 Robert ran for the switch, and in the gar- 
 den he met his brother : he stopped him and
 
 LITTLE DOG TRUSTY. 
 
 25 
 
 told him in a great hurry, all that he had sale 
 to his mother : and he begged of him not t- > 
 tell the truth, but to say the same as he ha 
 done, 
 
 c No, I will not tell a lie,' Frank saio 
 ' What ! and is Trusty to be beat ! He di 
 not throw down the milk, and he shan't b- 
 beat for it. Let me go to my mother.' 
 
 They both ran towards the house. Robei > 
 got first home, and he locked the house dooi 
 that Frank might not come in. He gave th. j 
 switch to his mother. 
 
 Poor Trusty ! he looked up as the switch 
 was lifted over his head ! but he could no r
 
 26 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 speak to tell the truth. Just as the blow wag 
 falling upon him, Frank's voice was heard at 
 the window. 
 
 ' Stop, stop ! dear mother, stop !' cried he 
 as loud as he could call ; ' Trusty did not 
 do it let me in I and Robert did it but do 
 not beat Robert.' 
 
 ' Let us in, let us in,' cried another voice 
 which Robert knew to be his father's, ' I am 
 just come from work, and here's the door 
 locked.' 
 
 Robert turned as pale as ashes when he 
 heard his father's voice ; for his father al- 
 ways whipped him when he told a lie. 
 
 His mother went to the door and unlocked it. 
 
 ' What's all this ?' cried his father, as he 
 came in ; so his mother told him all that had 
 happened ; how the milk had been thrown 
 down ; how she had asked Robert whether 
 he had done it ; and he said that he had not, 
 and that Frank had not done it, but that 
 Trusty the dog had done it ; how she was 
 just going to beat Trusty, when Frank came 
 to the window and told the truth. 
 
 ' Where is the switch with which you were 
 going to beat Trusty ?' said their father. 
 
 Then Robert, who saw by his father's 
 looks that he was going to beat him, fell 
 upon his knees and cried for mercy, saying 
 ' Forgive me this time, and I never will tell 
 a lie again.' 
 
 But his father caught hold of him by the 
 arm ' I will whip you now,' said he, 'and
 
 LITTLE DOG TKUSTY. 
 
 then I hope you will not.' So Robert was 
 whipped till he cried so loud with the pain, 
 that the whole neighborhood could hear him, 
 ' There,' said his father when he had done. 
 1 now go to-bed ; you are to have no milk to- 
 night, and you have been whipped. See how 
 liars are served !' Then, turning to Frank, 
 ' Come here and shake hands with me, Frank ; 
 you will have no milk for supper ; but that 
 does not signify ; you have told the truth, 
 and have not been whipped, and everybody 
 is pleased with you. And now I'll tell you 
 what I'll do for you I will give you the little 
 dog Trusty to be your own dog. You shall 
 feed him, and take care of him, and he shall
 
 28 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 be your dog ; you have saved him a beating 
 and I'll answer for it, you'll be a good master 
 to him. Trusty, Trusty ! come here.' 
 
 Trusty came ; then Frank's father took off 
 Trusty's collar. ' To-morrow I'll go to the 
 brazier's,' added he, ' and get a new collar 
 made for your dog : from this day forward he 
 shall always be called after you, Frank /'
 
 ORANGE MAN: 
 
 THE HONEST DOY AND THE THIEF. 
 
 CHARLES was the name of the honest boy; 
 and Ned was the name of the thief. 
 
 Charles never touched what was not his 
 own : this is being an honest boy. 
 
 Ned often took what was not his own : 
 this is being a thief. 
 
 Charles's father and mother, when he was 
 a very little boy, had taught him to be hon- 
 est, by always punishing him when he med- 
 dled with what was not his own : but 
 when Ned took what was not his own, his 
 father and mother did not punish him : so 
 he grew up to be a thief. 
 
 Early one summer morning, as Charles 
 was going along the road to school, he met a 
 man leading a horse which was laden with 
 panniers. 
 
 The man stopped at the door of a public 
 house which was by the road side : and he said 
 to the landlord, who came to the door, 'I
 
 30 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 won't have my horse unloaded ; I shall only 
 stop with you while I eat my breakfast. Give 
 my horse to some one to hold here on the road, 
 and let the horse have a little hay to eat.' 
 
 The landlord called ; but there was no one 
 in the way ; so he beckoned to Charles, who 
 was going by,and begged him to hold the horse. 
 
 ' O,' said the man, ' but can you engage 
 him to be an honest boy ? for these are or- 
 anges in my baskets ; and it is not every lit- 
 tle boy one can leave with oranges.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the landlord, ' I have known 
 Charles from the cradle upwards, and I nev- 
 er caught him in a lie or a theft : all the 
 parish knows him to be an honest boy ; I'll 
 engage your oranges will be as safe with 
 him, as if you were by yourself.' 
 
 ' Can you so ?' said the orange man ; ' then 
 I'll engage, my lad, to give you the finest or- 
 ange in my basket, when I come from break- 
 fast, if you will watch the rest whilst I am 
 away.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Charles, ' I will take care of 
 your oranges.' 
 
 So the man put the bridle into his 
 hand, and he went into the house to eat his 
 breakfast. 
 
 Charles had watched the horse and the or- 
 anges about five minutes, when he saw one 
 of his schoolfellows coming towards him. As 
 he came nearer Charles saw that it was Ned. 
 
 Ned stopped as he passed, and said, 'Good- 
 morrow to you, Charles ; what are you do-
 
 THE ORANGE MAN. 31 
 
 ing there ? whose horse is that ? and what 
 have you got in the baskets V 
 
 i There are oranges in the baskets,' said 
 Charles ; ' and a man, who has just gone 
 into the inn here, to eat his breakfast, bid me 
 take care of them, and so I did ; because he 
 said he would give me an orange, when he 
 came back again.' 
 
 ' An orange !' cried Ned ; ' are you to have 
 a whole orange 1 I wish I was to have one ! 
 However, let me look how large they are.' Say- 
 ing this, Ned went towards the pannier, and lift- 
 ed up the cloth that covered it. ' La ! what 
 fine oranges !' he exclaimed the moment he 
 saw them : ' Let me touch them, to feel if 
 they are ripe.' 
 
 ' No,' said Charles, ' you had better not ; 
 what signifies it to you whether they are ripe, 
 you know, since you are not to eat them. You 
 should not meddle with them ; they are not 
 yours : You must not touch them.' 
 
 ' Not touch them ! surely,' said Ned, 
 ' there's no harm in touching- them. You 
 don't think I mean to steal them I suppose. 7 
 So Ned put his hand into the orange-man's 
 basket, and he took up an orange, and he felt 
 it ; and when he had felt it, he smelled it. 
 ' It smells very sweet,' said he, ' and it feels 
 very ripe ; I long to taste it ; I will only just 
 suck one drop of juice at the top.' Saying 
 these words, he put the orange to his mouth. 
 
 Little boys, who wish to be honest, beware 
 of temptation ; do not depend too much upon
 
 32 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 yourselves ; and remember that it is easier tc 
 resolve to do right at first, than at last. Peo- 
 ple are led on by little and little to do wrong. 
 
 The sight of the oranges tempted Ned to 
 touch them ; and the touch tempted him to 
 smell them ; and the smell tempted him to 
 taste them. 
 
 ' What are you about, Ned 7' cried Charles, 
 taking hold of his arm. You said you only 
 wanted to smell the orange ; do put it down, 
 for shame !' 
 
 ' Don't say for shame to me,' cried Ned in 
 a surly tone : ' the oranges are not yours, 
 Charles !' 
 
 ' No, they are not mine ; but I promised 
 to take care of them, and so I will : so put 
 down that orange !' 
 
 ' O, if it comes to that, I won't,' said Ned; 
 ' and let us see who can make me, if I don't 
 choose it 1 I'm stronger than you.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid of you for all that,' replied 
 Charles, ' for I am in the right.' Then he 
 snatched the orange out of Ned's hand, and 
 he pushed him with all his force from the bas- 
 ket. Ned, immediately returning, hit him a 
 violent blow which almost stunned him. 
 
 Still however this good boy, without mind- 
 ing the pain, persevered in defending what 
 was left in his care ; he still held the bridle 
 with one hand, and covered the basket with 
 his other arm as well as he could. 
 
 Ned struggled in vain, to get his hands into 
 the pannier again ; he could not ; and finding
 
 THK ORANGE MA.V. 
 
 33 
 
 he could not win by strength, he had recourse 
 to cunning. So he pretended to be out of 
 breath and to desist : but he meant as soon 
 as Charles looked away, to creep softly round 
 to the basket on the other side. 
 
 Cunning people, though they think them- 
 selves very wise, are almost always very silly. 
 
 Ned, intent upon one thing, the getting 
 round to steal the oranges, forgot that if he 
 went too close to the horse's heels, he should 
 startle him. 
 
 The horse indeed, disturbed by the bustle 
 near him, had already left off eating his hay 
 and began to put down his ears ; but when 
 he felt something touch his hind legs, he gave
 
 34 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 a sudden kick, and Ned fell backwards just 
 as he had seized the orange. 
 
 Ned screamed with the pain : and at the 
 scream all the people came out of the public 
 house to see what was the matter : and a- 
 mongst them came the orange-man. 
 
 Ned was now so much ashamed, that he 
 almost forgot the pain, and wished to run 
 away ; but he was so much hurt, that he 
 was obliged to sit down again. 
 
 The truth of the matter was soon told by 
 Charles, and as soon believed by all the peo- 
 ple present who knew him ; for he had the 
 character of being an honest boy ; and Ned 
 was known to be a thief and a liar. 
 
 So nobody pitied Ned for the pain he felt. 
 ' He deserves it,' says one. ' Why did he 
 meddle with what was not his own ?' 
 1 Pugh ! he is not much hurt, I'll answer for 
 it,' said another. ' And if he was, it's a 
 lucky kick for him, if it keeps him from the 
 gallows,' says a third. Charles was the only 
 person who said nothing ; he helped Ned a- 
 way to a bank ; for boys that are brave are 
 always good-natured. 
 
 ' O, come here, ' said the orange-man, call- 
 ing him ; ' come here, my honest lad ! what ? 
 you got that black eye in keeping my oran- 
 ges, did you ? that' s a stout little fellow,' 
 said he, taking him by the hand, and leading 
 him into the midst of the people. 
 
 Men, women, and children, had gathered 
 around, and all the children fixed theii
 
 THE ORANGE MAN. 
 
 eyes upon Charles and wished to be in his 
 place. 
 
 In the mean time, the orange-man took 
 Charles's hat off his head, and filled it with 
 the fine china oranges. ' There, my little 
 friend,' said he, ' take them, and God bless 
 you with them ! If I could but afford it, you 
 should have all that is in my basket.' 
 
 Then the people, and especially the chil- 
 dren, shouted for joy ; but as soon as there 
 was silence, Charles said to the orange-man, 
 ' Thank'e, master, with all my heart ; but 
 I can't take your oranges, only that one I 
 earned ! take the rest back again ; as for a 
 black eye, that's nothing ! but I won't be paid
 
 36 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 for it, no more than for doing what's honest. 
 So I can't take your oranges, master ; but 1 
 thank you as much as if I had them.' Say- 
 ing these words he offered to pour the oran- 
 ges back into the basket ; but the man would 
 not let him. ' Then,' said Charles, ' if they 
 are honestly mine, I may give them away ;' 
 so he emptied the hat amongst the children 
 his companions. ' Divide them amongst 
 you,' said he ; and without waiting for their 
 thanks, he pressed through the crowd and ran 
 home. The children all followed him, clap- 
 ping their hands, and thanking him. 
 
 The little thief came limping after. Nobody 
 praised him, nobody thanked him ; he had no 
 oranges to eat, nor had he any to give away. 
 People must be honest before they can be gene- 
 rous. Ned sighed as he went towards home ; 
 ' And all this,' said he to himself, ' was for one 
 orange ; it was not worth while.' 
 
 No ; it is never worth while to do wrong. 
 
 Little boys, who read this story, consider 
 which would you rather have been, the hon- 
 est boy, or the thief ?
 
 CHERRY ORCHARD. 
 
 MARIANNE was a little girl of about eight 
 years old ; she was remarkably good temper- 
 ed ; she could bear to be disappointed, or to be 
 contradicted, or to be blamed, without look- 
 ing or feeling peevish, or sullen, or angry. 
 Her parents, and her schoolmistress and com- 
 panions, all loved her, because she was obli- 
 ging- 
 Marianne had a cousin, a year younger 
 
 than herself, named Owen, who was an ill 
 tempered boy ; almost every day he was cry- 
 ing, or pouting, or in a passion, about some 
 trifle or other ; he was neither obedient nor 
 obliging. His play-fellows could not love 
 him ; for he was continually quarrelling with 
 them ; he would never, either when he was 
 at play or at work, do what they wished ; 
 but he always tried to force them to yield to 
 his will and his humor. 
 
 One fine summer's evening, Marianne and 
 Owen were setting out, with several of their 
 companions to school. It was a walk of
 
 38 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 about a mile from the town in which their 
 fathers and mothers lived to the school house, 
 if they went by the high-road ; but there was 
 another way, through a lane, which was a 
 quarter of a mile shorter. 
 
 Marianne, and most of the children, liked 
 to go by the lane, because they could gather 
 the pretty flowers which grew on the banks, 
 and in the hedges ; but Owen preferred going 
 by the high-road, because he liked to see the 
 carts, and carriages and horsemen, which 
 usually were seen upon this road. 
 
 Just when they were setting out, Owen 
 called to Marianne, who was turning into 
 the lane. 
 
 ' Marianne,' said he, ' you must not go by 
 the lane to-day ; you must go by the road.' 
 
 1 Why must not I go by the lane to-day T 
 said Marianne ; ' you know yesterday and 
 the day before, that we all went by the high- 
 road, only to please you ; and now let us go 
 by the lane, because we want to gather some 
 honey-suckles and dog-roses, to fill our 
 dame's flower-pots.' 
 
 ' I don't care for that ; I don't want to fill 
 our dame's flower-pots ; I don't want to ga- 
 ther honey-suckles and dog-roses ; I want to 
 see the coaches and chaises on the road ; and 
 you must -go my way, Marianne ?' 
 
 ' Must ! O, you should not say must, 1 re- 
 plied Marianne in a gentle tone. 
 
 ' No indeed !' cried one of her companions, 
 ' you should not ; nor should you look so
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 39 
 
 cross ; that is not the way to make us do 
 what you like.' 
 
 ' And besides,' said another, ' what right 
 has he always to make us do as he pleases ? 
 He never will do any thing that we wish.' 
 
 Owen grew quite angry when he heard 
 this ; and he was going to make some sharp 
 answer, when Marianne, who was good-na- 
 tured, and always endeavored to prevent 
 quarrels, said, ' Let us do what he asks, this 
 once ; and I dare say he will do what we 
 please the next time we will go by the high- 
 road to school, and we can come back by the 
 lane in the cool of the evening.' 
 
 To please Marianne, whom they all loved, 
 they agreed to this proposal. They went by 
 the high-road; but Owen was not satisfied, 
 because he saw that his companions did not 
 comply for his sake ; and as he walked on, he 
 began to kick up the dust with his feel, say- 
 ing, 'I'm sure it is much pleasanter here than 
 in the lane ; I wish we were to come back 
 this way I'm sure it is much pleasanter here 
 than in the lane ; is it not, Marianne ?' 
 
 Marianne could not say that she thought 
 so. 
 
 Owen kicked up the dust more and more. 
 
 ' Do not make such a dust, dear Owen,' 
 said she ; ' look how you have covered my 
 shoes and clean stockings with dust.' 
 
 ' Then say that it is pleasanter here than 
 in the lane. I shall go on making this dust 
 till you say that.'
 
 40 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' I cannot say that, because I do not think 
 so, Owen.' 
 
 ' I will make you think so, and say so too.' 
 
 ' You are not taking the right way to 
 make me think so ; you know that I cannot 
 think this dust agreeable.' 
 
 Owen persisted ; and he raised continually 
 a fresh cloud of dust, in spite of all that Mari- 
 anne or his companions could say to him. 
 They left him, and went to the opposite side 
 of the road ; but wherever they went he pur- 
 sued At length they came to a turnpike gate, 
 on one side of which there was a turn-stile ; 
 Marianne and the rest of the children passed, 
 one by one, through the turn-stile, while Owen 
 was emptying his shoes of the dust. When 
 this was done, he looked up and saw all his 
 companions on the other side of the gate 
 holding the turnstile, to prevent him from 
 coming through.' 
 
 ' Let me through, let me through,' cried he, 
 ' I must and will come through.' 
 
 1 No, no, Owen,' said they, ' must will not 
 do now; we have you safe ; here are ten of 
 us ; and we will not let you come through till 
 you will promise not to make any more 
 dust.' 
 
 Owen, without making any answer, began 
 to kick, and push, and struggle, with all 
 his might ; but in vain he struggled, pulled, 
 pushed and kicked ; he found that ten people 
 are stronger than one. When he felt that he 
 could not conquer them by force, he began to
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 41 
 
 cry ; and he roared as loud as he possibly 
 could. 
 
 No one but the turnpike-man was within 
 hearing ; and he stood laughing at Owen. 
 
 Owen tried to climb the gate, but he could 
 not get over it, because there were iron spikes 
 at the top. 
 
 ' Only promise that you will not kick up 
 the dust, and they will let you through,' said 
 Marianne. 
 
 Owen made no answer, but continued to 
 struggle till his whole face was scarlet, and 
 till both his wrists ached : he could not move 
 the turn-stile an inch. 
 
 ' Well,' said he stopping short, ' now you 
 are all of you joined together, you are strong- 
 er than I : but I am as cunning as you.' 
 
 He left the stile, and began to walk home- 
 wards. 
 
 ' Where are you going ? You will be too 
 late at school, if you turn back and go by the 
 lane,' said Marianne. 
 
 ' I know that, very well ; but that will be 
 your fault and not mine I shall tell our 
 dame, that you all of you held the turn-stile 
 against me, and would not let me through.' 
 
 ' And we shall tell our dame why we held 
 the turn-stile against you,' replied one of the 
 children ; ' and then it will be plain that it 
 was your fault.' 
 
 Perhaps Owen did not hear this ; for he was 
 now at some distance from the gate. Pres- 
 4
 
 42 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ently he heard some one running after him 
 it was Marianne. 
 
 ' O, I am so much out of breath with run- 
 ning after you, I can hardly speak ! But I 
 am come back,' said this good-natured girl, 
 ' to tell you that you will be sorry if you 
 do not come with us ; for there is something 
 that you like very much, just at the turn of 
 the road, a little beyond the turnpike gate.' 
 
 ' Something that I like very much ! What 
 can that be V 
 
 1 Come with me and you shall see,' said 
 Marianne ; ' that is both rhyme and reason. 
 Come with me, and you shall see.' 
 
 She looked so good humored, as she smil- 
 ed and nodded at him, that he could not be 
 sullen any longer. 
 
 ' I don't know how it is, cousin Marianne,' 
 said he ; c but when I am cross you are never 
 cross ; and you can always bring me back to 
 good humor again, you are so good-humored 
 yourself I wish I was like you But we need 
 not talk any more of that now What is it 
 that I shall see on the other side of the turn- 
 pike-gate 1 What is it that I like very much ?' 
 
 ' Don't you like ripe cherries very much ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; but they don't grow in these hedges.' 
 
 ' No ; but there is an old woman sitting by 
 the road side, with a board before her, which 
 is covered with red ripe cherries.' 
 
 ' Red ripe cherries ! Let us make haste,' 
 cried Owen. He ran on as fast as he could ; 
 but, as soon as the children saw him running,'
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 43 
 
 they also began to run back to the turnstile ; 
 and they reached it before he did ; and they 
 held it fast as before, saying, ' Promise you 
 will not kick up the dust, or we will not let 
 you through.' 
 
 ' The cherries are very ripe,' said Mari- 
 anne. 
 
 ' Well, well, I will not kick up the dust 
 Let me through,' said Owen. 
 
 They did so, and he kept his word ; for, 
 though he was ill-humored, he was a boy of 
 truth : and he always kept his promises He 
 found the cherries looked red and ripe as Ma- 
 rianne had described them. 
 
 The old woman took up a long stick that 
 lay on the board before her. Bunches of 
 cherries were tied with white thread to this 
 stick : and, as she shook it in the air over the 
 heads of the children, they all looked up with 
 longing eyes. 
 
 ' A halfpenny a bunch ! Who will buy 1 
 Who will buy ? Who will buy 7 Nice ripe 
 cherries !' cried the old woman. 
 
 The children held out their halfpence ; 
 and ' Give me a bunch,' and ' Give me a 
 bunch !' was heard on all sides. 
 
 ' Here are eleven of you,' said the old wo- 
 man, ' and there are just eleven bunches on 
 this stick.' 
 
 She put the stick into Marianne's hand as 
 she spoke. 
 
 Marianne began to untie the bunches ; and 
 her companions pressed closer and closer to
 
 44 
 
 EAKLY LESSONS. 
 
 her, each eager to have the particular bunch 
 which they thought the largest and the ripest. 
 
 Several fixed upon the uppermost, which 
 looked indeed extremely ripe. 
 
 ' You cannot all have this bunch,' said 
 Marianne ; ' to which of you must I give 
 it 1 You all wish for it V ' 
 
 ' Give it to me, give it to me,' was the first 
 cry of each ; but the second was, ' Keep it 
 yourself, Marianne ; keep it yourself.' 
 
 ' Now, Owen, see what it is to be good-na- 
 tured, and good-humored, like Marianne,' said 
 Cymon, the eldest of the boys, who stood neai 
 him. ' We are all ready to give up the ri-
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 45 
 
 pest cherries to Marianne ; but we should 
 never think of doing so for you, because you 
 are so cross and disagreeable." 
 
 ' I am not cross now ; I am not disagree- 
 able now] replied Owen ; ' and I do not in- 
 tend to be cross and disagreeable any more.' 
 
 This was a good resolution : but Owen did 
 not keep it many minutes. In the bunch 
 of cherries which Marianne gave to him for his 
 share, there was one which, though red on one 
 side, was entirely white and hard on the other. 
 
 ' This cherry is not ripe ; and here's anoth- 
 er that has been half eaten away by the birds. 
 O, Marianne, you gave me this bad bunch on 
 purpose 1 will not have this bunch.' 
 
 ' Somebody must have it,' said Cymon ; 
 ' and I do not see that it is worse than the 
 others ; we all shall have some cherries that 
 are not so good as the rest ; but we shall not 
 grumble and look so cross about it as you do.' 
 
 ' Give me your bad cherries, and I will give 
 you two out of my fine bunch, instead oi 
 them.' said the good-natured Marianne. 
 
 ' No, no, no !' cried the children ; < Mari- 
 anne, keep your own cherries.' 
 
 ' Are you not ashamed, Owen ?' said Cy- 
 mon ' How can you be so greedy ?' 
 
 1 Greedy ! I am not greedy,' cried Owen, 
 angrily ; ' but I will not have the worst cher- 
 ries ; I will have another bunch.' 
 
 He tried to snatch another bunch from the 
 stick. Cymon held it above his head. Owen 
 leaped up, reached it, and when his compan-
 
 46 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ions closed round him, exclaiming against his 
 violence, he grew still more angry ; he threw 
 the stick down upon the ground, and trampled 
 upon every bunch of the cherries in his fury, 
 scarcely knowing what he did, or what he said. 
 
 When his companions saw the ground 
 stained with the red juice of their cherries, 
 which he trampled under his feet, they were 
 both sorry and angry. 
 
 The children had not any more halfpence ; 
 they could not buy any more cherries ; and the 
 old woman said she could not give them any. 
 
 As they went away sorrowfully, they said, 
 ' Owen is so ill-tempered, that we will not 
 play with him, nor speak to him, nor have 
 any thing to do with him.' 
 
 Owen thought that he could make himself 
 happy without his companions ; and he told 
 them so. But he soon found himself mistaken. 
 
 When they arrived at the schoolhouse, 
 their dame was sitting in the thatched porch 
 before her own door, reading a paper that was 
 printed in large letters ' My dears,' said she 
 to her little scholars, ' here is something that 
 you will be glad to see ; but say your lessons 
 first One thing at a time Duty first and 
 pleasure afterwards. Whichever of you says 
 your lessons best, shall know first what is in 
 this paper, and shall have the pleasure of tel- 
 ling the good news.' 
 
 Owen always learned his lessons very well, 
 and quickly ; he now said his lesson better 
 than any of his companions said theirs ; and
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 47 
 
 he looked round him with joy and triumph ; 
 but no eye met his with pleasure ; nobody 
 smiled upon him, no one was glad that he had 
 succeeded : on the contrary, he heard those 
 near him whisper, ' I should have been very 
 glad if it had been Marianne who had said 
 her lesson best, because she is so good-natured.' 
 
 The printed paper, which Owen read aloud, 
 was as follows : 
 
 ' On Thursday evening next, the gate of the 
 cherry orchard will be opened ; and all who 
 have tickets will be let in, from six o'clock 
 till eight. Price of tickets, six-pence.' 
 
 The children wished extremely to go to this 
 cherry orchard, where they knew they might 
 gather as many cherries as they liked, and 
 where they thought that they should be very 
 happy in sitting down under the trees and eat- 
 ing fruit But none of these children had any 
 money ; for they had spent their last half- 
 pence in paying for those cherries which they 
 never tasted those cherries which Owen, in 
 the fury of his passion, trampled in the dust. 
 
 The children asked their dame what 
 they could do to earn six-pence a piece ; and 
 she told them that they might perhaps be able 
 to earn this money by plaiting straw for hats, 
 which they had all been taught to do by 
 their good dame. 
 
 Immediately the children desired to set to 
 work. 
 
 Owen, who was very eager to go to the 
 cherry orchard, was the most anxious to get
 
 48 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 forward with the business : he found, how- 
 ever, that nobody liked to work along with 
 him ; his companions said, ' We are afraid 
 that you will quarrel with us ; we are afraid 
 that you will fly into a passion about the 
 straws, as you did about the cherries ; there- 
 fore we will not work with you.' 
 
 ' Will not you ? then I will work by my- 
 self,' said Owen ; ' and I dare say that I shall 
 have done my work long before you have any 
 of you finished yours ; for I can plait quicker 
 and better than any of you.' 
 
 It was true that Owen could plait quicker 
 and better than any of his companions ; but 
 he was soon surprised to find that his work 
 did not go on so fast as theirs. 
 
 After they had been employed all the re- 
 mainder of this evening, and all the next day, 
 Owen went to his companions, and compared 
 his work with theirs. 
 
 ' How is this T said he ; ' how comes it that 
 you have all done so much, and I have not 
 done nearly so much, though I work quicker 
 than any one of you, and I have worked as 
 hard as I possibly could ? What is the rea- 
 son that you have done so much more than 
 I have ?' 
 
 ' Because we have all been helping one an- 
 other, and you have had no one to help you ; 
 you have been obliged to do every thing for 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' But still I do not understand how your 
 helping one another can make such a differ-
 
 THE CHERRY ORCHARD. 49 
 
 ence,' said Owen ; ' I plait faster than any 
 of you.' 
 
 His companions were so busy at their work, 
 that they did not listen to what he was saying. 
 He stood behind Marianne in a melancholy 
 posture, looking at them, and trying to find 
 out why they went on so much faster than he 
 could. He observed that one picked the out- 
 side off the straws ; another cut them to the 
 proper length, another sorted and laid them 
 in bundles ; another flattened them ; another 
 (the youngest of the little girls, who was not 
 able to do anything else,) held the straws 
 ready for those who were plaiting ; another 
 cut off the rough ends of the straws when the 
 plaits were finished ; another ironed the plaits 
 with a hot smoothing iron ; others sewed the 
 plaits together. Each did what he could do 
 best and quickest ; and none of them lost any 
 time in going from one work to another, or in 
 looking for what they wanted. 
 
 On the contrary, Owen had lost a great deal 
 of time in looking for all the things that he 
 wanted ; he had nobody to hold the straws 
 ready for him as he plaited ; therefore he was 
 forced to go for them himself, every time he 
 wanted them ; and his straws were not sort- 
 ed in nice bundles for him ; the wind blew 
 them about ; and he wasted half an hour at 
 least in running after them. Besides this, he 
 had no friend to cut off the rough ends for 
 him ; nor had he any one to sew the plaits 
 5
 
 50 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 together ; and, though he couid plait quick-, 
 ly, he could not sew quickly ; for he 
 was not used to this kind of work. He wish- 
 ed extremely for Marianne to do it for him. 
 He was once a full quarter of an hour in 
 threading his needle, of which the eye was 
 too small. Then he spent another quarter of 
 an hour in looking for one with a larger eye ; 
 and he could not find it at last, and nobody 
 would lend him another. When he had done 
 sewing, he found that his hand was out for 
 vlaiting ; that is, he could not plait so quick- 
 ly after his fingers had just been used to an- 
 other kind of work ; and, when he had been 
 smoothing the straws with a heavy iron his 
 hand trembled afterwards for some minutes, 
 during which time he was forced to be idle : 
 thus it was that he lost time by doing every 
 thing for himself ; and though he lost but a 
 few minutes or seconds in each particular, yet 
 when all these minutes and seconds were ad- 
 ded together, they made a great difference. 
 
 ' How fast, how very fast, they go on ! and 
 how merrily !' said Owen, as he looked at his 
 former companions. 1 1 am sure I shall never 
 earn sixpence for myself before Thursday ; 
 and I shall not be able to go to the cherry- 
 orchard. I am very sorry that I trampled on 
 your cherries ; I am very sorry I was so ill- 
 humored ; I will never be cross any more.' 
 
 ' He is very sorry that he was so ill-humor- 
 ed ; he is very sorry that he trampled on our 
 cherries,' cried Marianne ; ' do you hear
 
 THE CHERUY ORCHARD. 51 
 
 what he says? he will never be cross any 
 more.' 
 
 'Yes, we hear what he says,' answered 
 Cymon ; ' but how are we to be sure that he 
 will do as he says ? ' 
 
 ' O,' cried another of his companions, ' he 
 has found out at last that he must do as he 
 would be done by.' 
 
 'Aye,' said another; 'and he finds that 
 we who are good-humored and good-natured 
 to one another, do better even than he, who 
 is so quick and so clever.' 
 
 ' But if, besides being so quick and so clev- 
 er, he was good-humored and good-natured,' 
 said Marianne, ' he would be of great use to us; 
 he plaits a vast deal faster than Mary does, 
 and Mary plaits faster than any of us. Come 
 let us try him, let him come in amongst us.' 
 
 ' No, no, no,' cried many voices ; ' he will 
 quarrel with us ; and we have no time for quar- 
 relling. We are all so quiet and so happy 
 without him ! Let him work by himself, as 
 he said he would.' 
 
 Owen went on, working by himself ; he 
 made all the haste that he possibly could : but 
 Thursday came, and his work was not nearly 
 finished. His companions passed by him with 
 their finished work in their hands. Each as 
 they passed, said, ' What ! have you not done 
 yet, Owen T and then they walked on to the 
 table where their dame was sitting, ready to 
 pay them their sixpences. 
 
 She measured their work, and examined it;
 
 52 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and when she saw that it was well done, she 
 gave to each of her little workmen and work- 
 women the sixpence they had earned, and 
 she said, ' I hope, my dears, that you will 
 be happy this evening.' 
 
 They all looked joyful ; and, as they held 
 their sixpences in their hands, they said, ' If 
 we had not helped one another, we should not 
 have earned this money ; and we should not 
 be able to go to the cherry orchard.' 
 
 ' Poor Owen !' whispered Marianne to her 
 companions, ' look how melancholy he is sit- 
 sing there alone at his work ! See, his hands 
 tremble, so that he can hardly hold the 
 straws ; he will not nearly finish his work in 
 time : he cannot go with us.'
 
 THE ORANGE MAN. 53 
 
 He should not have trampled on our cher- 
 ries ; and then perhaps we might have help- 
 ed him,' said Cymon. 
 
 4 "Let us help him though he did trample on 
 our cherries,' said the good-natured Marianne 
 ' He is sorry for what he did, and he will 
 never be so ill-humored or ill-natured again. 
 Come, let us go and help him. If we all help, 
 we shall have his work finished in time, and 
 then we shall all be happy together.' 
 
 As Marianne spoke, she drew Cymon near 
 to the corner where Owen was sitting ; and 
 all her companions followed. 
 
 ' Before we offer to help him, let us try 
 whether he is now inclined to be good-hu- 
 mored and good-natured.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, let us try that first,' said his 
 companions. 
 
 ' Owen, you will not be done time enough 
 to go with us,' said Cymon. 
 
 ' No, indeed,' said Owen, ' I shall not ; 
 therefore I may as well give up all thoughts 
 of it. It is my own fault, I know.' 
 
 ' Well, but as you cannot go yourself, you 
 will not want your pretty little basket ; will 
 you lend it to us to hold our cherries ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I will with pleasure,' cried Owen, 
 jumping up to fetch it. 
 
 ' Now he is good-natured, I am sure,' said 
 Marianne. 
 
 ' This plaiting of yours is not nearly so 
 well done as ours,' said Cymon ; ' look, how 
 uneven it is.'
 
 54 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Yes, it is rather uneven, indeed,' replied 
 Owen. 
 
 Cymon began to untwist some of Owen's 
 work ; arid Owen bore this trial of his pa- 
 tience with good temper.' 
 
 ' O, you are pulling it all to pieces, Cy- 
 mon !' said Marianne ; i this is not fair.' 
 
 Yes, it is fair,' said Cymon ; ' for I have 
 undone only an inch ; and I will do as many 
 inches for Owen as he pleases, now that I see 
 he is good-humored.' 
 
 Marianne immediately sat down to work 
 for Owen ; and Cymon and all his compan- 
 ions followed her example. It was now two 
 hours before the time when the cherry-or- 
 chard was to be opened ; and, during these 
 two hours, they went on so expeditiously, 
 that they completed the work. 
 
 Owen went with them to the cherry-or- 
 chard, where they spent the evening all to- 
 gether very happily. As he was sitting under 
 a tree with his companions, eating the ripe 
 cherries, he said to them, ' Thank you all, 
 for helping me : I should not have been here 
 now eating these ripe cherries, if you had not 
 been so good-natured to me. I hope I shall 
 never be cross to any of you again : whenev- 
 er I feel inclined to be cross, I will think ol 
 your good-nature to me, and of THE CHERRY- 
 ORCHARD.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 LITTLE children, who know the sounds of all 
 letters, can read words, and can understand 
 what is told in this book. 
 
 Harry was brother to Lucy, and Lucy was 
 sister to Harry. Harry had just come home 
 to his father's house : he had been left at his 
 uncle's, when he was an infant, and had al- 
 ways lived at his uncle's house. 
 
 Lucy lay in a little bed in a closet near 
 her mother's room ; and Harry lay in a little 
 bod in another closet. 
 
 Early in the morning, whilst Lucy was in 
 bed, the sun shone through the window and 
 awakened her ; when she was quite awake, 
 she knew it was morning, because it was 
 daylight ; and she called to her mother, and 
 said, ' Mamma, may I get up ?' But her 
 mother did not answer her, for she did not 
 hear what she said, because she was asleep. 
 When Lucy knew that her mother was asleep, 
 she lay still, that she might not disturb her,
 
 56 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 until she heard her mother stir ; and then 
 she asked her again if she might get up ; and 
 her mother said she might. 
 
 So Lucy got up, and put on her stockings 
 and shoes, and finished dressing herself, and 
 then went to her mother, and asked for some 
 breakfast. But her mother told her, that she 
 must make her bed, before she could have any 
 breakfast. Little Lucy began to make her 
 bed, and her mother went into another closet 
 to awaken Harry ; and she said, Harry ! get 
 up ! And Harry jumped out of bed in an in- 
 stant, and put on his trousers, and his jacket, 
 and his shoes ; and then he combed his hair, 
 and washed his hands ; and whilst he was 
 wiping his hands his mother went down stairs. 
 
 Little Lucy, hearing her brother Harry 
 walking about in his closet, called him, and 
 asked, if he had made his bed. Harry said 
 he had not. O ! then, says Lucy, mamma 
 will give you no breakfast. Yes, says Harry, 
 she will : I never made my bed at my un- 
 cle's, and I always had my breakfast. 
 
 As they were talking, he heard his father 
 call him, and he ran down stairs to the par- 
 lor, where his father and mother were at 
 breakfast ; and her mother called Lucy down 
 too, and said to her, Well, Lucy ! have you 
 made your bed neatly ? 
 
 Lucy. Yes, mother, I have made it as well 
 as I could.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 57 
 
 Mother. You shall have some breakfast then. 
 
 His father asked Harry if he had made his 
 bed. Harry answered that he did not know 
 how to make it. I will show you, said his 
 mother ; and taking him by the hand, she 
 led him up stairs, and showed him how to 
 make his bed. 
 
 When Harry came down to his father, he 
 said that he did not know, that boys or men 
 ever made beds ; for at his uncle's, nobody 
 ever made beds but the housemaid. 
 
 His father told him, that, in some countries, 
 the beds are made by men ; and that in 
 ships, which sail on the sea, and carry men 
 from one country to another, the beds in which 
 the sailors sleep are always made by men. 
 
 Lucy's mother observed that she had break- 
 fast, and asked her why she had not eaten it. 
 
 Lucy said that she waited for her brother. 
 Her mother then gave Harry a basin of milk, 
 and a large piece of bread ; and she set a lit- 
 tle table for him and his sister, under a shady 
 tree, that was opposite to the open window 
 of the room where she breakfasted. 
 
 Lucy was a good little girl, and had al- 
 ways minded what was said to her, and had 
 been very attentive whenever her father or mo- 
 ther had taught her anything. So her mother 
 had taught her to read and to work, and when 
 she was six years old she could employ her- 
 self without being troublesome to any body : 
 she could work for herself, and for her brother, 
 and sometimes, when Lucy behaved very
 
 58 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 well, ner mother let her do a little work for 
 her, or for her father ; arid her mother had 
 given her a little thimble, to put upon her 
 ringer, and a little housewife, to keep her nee- 
 dles and thread in, and a little pair of scissors 
 to cut her thread with, and a little work-bag 
 to keep her work in ; and Lucy's father had 
 given her a little book, to read in, whenever 
 she pleased, and she could read in it by her- 
 self, and understand all she read, and learn 
 every thing that was in it. 
 
 As soon as Lucy had eaten the breakfast 
 which her her mother had given her, she sat 
 down on her stool, and took her work out of 
 her work-bag and worked some time ; then 
 her mother told her, that she had worked an 
 hour, and that she did not choose that she 
 should work any longer ; so Lucy got up and 
 brought her work to her mother, and asked 
 her, if it was done as it ought to be done. 
 
 And her mother said, Lucy, it is done pret- 
 ty well for a little girl that is but six years 
 old, and I am pleased to see that you have 
 tried to avoid the fault, which I told you of 
 yesterday : then Lucy's mother kissed her, 
 and said to her, put your work into your 
 work-bag, and put your work-bag into its 
 place, and then come back to me, 
 
 Lucy did as she was desired to do ; and 
 then her mother asked her, if she would rath-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 59 
 
 er go out of doors and walk, or stay with 
 her. Lucy liked best to stay with her mother, 
 who very soon afterwards went to her dairy. 
 
 Lucy followed her, and took a great deal 
 of care not to be troublesome, for she loved to 
 be with her mother ; but she observed what- 
 ever she saw, and did not meddle with 
 any thing. She saw that the dairy was 
 very clean ; the floor was a little damp, 
 which made her think, that it had been 
 washed that morning, and there were not 
 any cobwebs nor dust upon the walls ; 
 and she perceived that the room smelt very 
 sweet : she looked about, to find out if there 
 were any flowers that could make that pleas- 
 ant smell, but she could not see any thing, 
 but a great many clean empty vessels of dif- 
 ferent shapes, and a great many round, wide, 
 and shallow pans full of milk : she went near 
 to them, and thought the smell came from 
 them. 
 
 When she had looked at a good many of 
 them, she thought they were not all alike ; 
 the milk in some of the pans was a little yel- 
 lowish, and looked thick, like the cream that 
 she saw every morning at her mother's break- 
 fast ; and the milk, in the other pans, was a 
 little blue, and looked thin, like the milk 
 that was often given to her and her brother 
 to drink. Whilst Lucy was thinking on this, 
 she saw one of her mother's maids go to one 
 of the pans, that had the yellowish milk in it, 
 and the maid had a wooden saucer in her
 
 60 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 hand, and she put the wooden saucer very gen- 
 tly into the pan ; she did not put it down to the 
 bottom of the pan, but took up that part of the 
 milk, which was at the top, and put it into an- 
 other vessel, and then Lucy saw that the 
 milk, that was left in the pan, was not at all 
 like what the maid had taken out, but was 
 very thin, and a little blue. 
 
 When Lucy's mother went out of the dai- 
 ry, she took her little daughter out into the 
 fields to walk with her. Soon after they set 
 out, Lucy said, Mother, when I was in your 
 dairy just now, I saw the maid take some 
 milk out of a milk pan, and it looked like 
 what I see you put into your tea, and I be- 
 lieve it is called cream ; but she left some 
 milk in the pan, that was not at all like cream, 
 but like very thin milk : pray, mother, will 
 you tell me, why all that was in the pan was 
 not cream ? Then her mother said, Yes, Lu- 
 cy, I will answer any questions, you like to 
 ask me, when I have leisure, because, whenev- 
 er I talk to you, you mind what I say, and re- 
 member whatever your father or I teach you. 
 
 I believe you know, that the kind of milk, 
 which I give you very often for your break- 
 fast and supper, is taken out of the udders of 
 cows : did you never see the maids, with 
 milk-pails going a milking ? They were then 
 going to take the milk from my cows ; they 
 call that milking them, and it is done twice ev- 
 ery day, once in the morning and once in tho 
 evening. When they have gotten milk in the
 
 HA11RY AND LUCY. 61 
 
 pails, they carry it into the dairy, and put it 
 into such milk-pans as you saw, and they let 
 the milk-pans stand still, in the same place, 
 for several hours, that the milk may not be 
 shaken ; and in that time the heaviest part of 
 the milk falls as low as it can, towards the 
 bottom of the pan, and the lightest part of the 
 milk remains above it at the top of the pan, 
 and that thick light part is called cream, as 
 you thought it was. When the milk has 
 stood long enough, the cream is taken from 
 the other part of the milk, and doing this, is 
 called skimming the milk, but it must be done 
 very carefully, or else the cream and milk 
 will all be mixed together again. Lucy told 
 her mother, that, when she was in the dairy, 
 she had walked all round it, and that she saw 
 a great deal of cream ; more, she thought, 
 than came every day into the parlor : and she 
 wished to know, what other use it was for, ex- 
 cept to mix with tea, and fruit, or sweetmeats. 
 Lucy's mother was going to answer her, but 
 she looked towards the other side of the field, 
 and said, Lucy, I think I see some pretty 
 flowers there, will you run and gather me a 
 nosegay, before I talk any more to you ? Lu- 
 cy said, Yes, mother ; and ran away to get 
 what her mother had desired ; when she came 
 to the place, where the flowers were, she look- 
 ed about for the prettiest, and gathered two 
 or three of them, but, when she had them in 
 her hand, she perceived, they had not any 
 smell ; so she went to a great many more,
 
 62 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and at last she found some, that had a sweet 
 smell ; but they were not pretty, and she ga- 
 thered some of them, and was taking them to 
 her mother ; but as she passed near the hedge, 
 she saw some honey-suckles growing in it, 
 and she remembered that she had smelt honey- 
 suckles that were very sweet, and they were 
 pretty too, so she was glad that she had found 
 some, for she thought her mother would like 
 them ; but when she came close to the hedge, 
 she saw that they were so high from the 
 ground that she could not reach them. Lu^y 
 did not like to go away, without taking some 
 honey-suckles to her mother, so she walked 
 slowly by the side of the hedge, till she came 
 to a place, where there was a large stone, up- 
 on which she climbed, and gathered as many 
 honey-suckles as she liked. 
 
 Whilst she was getting down, she held the 
 flowers fast, for fear she should drop them into 
 the ditch, and she felt something prick her 
 finger very sharply; she looked, and she saw a 
 bee drop down off one of the honey-suckles, that 
 she had squeezed in her hand ; so she thought, 
 that she had hurt the bee, and that the bee 
 had stung her, to make her let him go, and 
 that it was the bee, that she had felt pricking 
 her. Lucy was afraid that she had hurt the 
 bee very much, for she remembered, that, 
 when she opened her hands, the bee did not 
 fly away, but dropt down ; so she looked for
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 63 
 
 it on the ground, and she soon found it strug- 
 gling in some water, and trying with its little 
 legs and wings to get out, but it was not 
 strong enough. Lucy was very sorry for the 
 bee ; but she was afraid to touch it, lest she 
 should hurt it again, or that it should hurt 
 her. She thought for a little while what she 
 could do, and then she got a large stalk of a 
 flower, and put it close to the bee : as soon 
 as ever the bee felt it, he clasped his legs 
 round it, and Lucy raised the stalk with the 
 bee upon it, gently from the wet ground, and 
 laid it upon a large flower that was near her. 
 The bee was sadly covered with dirt, but, as 
 soon as he felt that he was standing upon his 
 legs again, he began to stretch his wings and 
 to clean himself, and to buz a little upon the 
 flower. Lucy was glad to see that the bee 
 did not seem to be very much hurt, and she 
 took up her nosegay and ran as fast as she 
 could towards her mother ; but the finger, 
 that the bee had stung, began to be very sore. 
 
 She met her mother coming to her, who 
 wondered what had made her stay so long ; 
 and when Lucy had told her what had hap- 
 pened, she said, I thank you, my dear, for 
 getting me so sweet a nosegay, and I am very 
 sorry you have been hurt in doing it ; I am 
 sure you did not intend to hurt the poor little 
 bee, and will walk home now, and I will put 
 some hartshorn to your finger, which will les-
 
 64 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 sen the pain you feel. Lucy said, Indeed, 
 mother, I did not mean to hurt the bee, for I 
 did not know that it was in my hand ; but, 
 when I am going to gather flowers another 
 time, I will look to see if there are any bees 
 upon them. 
 
 When Lucy's mother got home, some harts- 
 horn was put to Lucy's finger, and soon after 
 it grew easier, and Lucy's mother said to her, 
 Now I am going to be busy, and if you like 
 it you may go into the garden, till dressing 
 time : Lucy thanked her, and said, she did 
 like it, but she hoped, that some time, when 
 she was not busy, her mother would answer 
 what she had asked about cream. 
 
 After breakfast, Harry's father took him 
 out a walking ; and they came to a field, 
 where several men were at work ; some were 
 digging clay out of a pit, in the ground ; 
 some were wetting what was dug out, with 
 water, and others were making the clay into 
 a great number of pieces, of the same size 
 and shape. Harry asked his father, what the 
 men were about, and he told him, that they 
 were making bricks for building houses. 
 Yes, says Harry, but I can run my finger 
 into these ; they are quite soft and brown, 
 and the bricks of your house are red and 
 hard ; and they don't stick together as the 
 bricks of your house do ; saying this, he 
 pushed down a whole stack of bricks. The
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 65 
 
 man who was making them called out, to de- 
 sire he would pay for those he had spoiled : 
 little Harry had no money, and did not know 
 what to do ; but said to the man, indeed, sir, 
 I did not intend to do any harm : the man 
 answered, whether you intended it or not, you 
 have spoiled the bricks, and must pay me for 
 them ; I am a poor man, and buy all the 
 bread that I have, with the money which I 
 get for these bricks, and I shall have less 
 bread, if I have a smaller number of bricks 
 to sell. 
 
 Poor Harry was very sorry for what he had 
 6
 
 66 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 he had done, and at last thought of asking 
 his father to pay for them : but his father 
 said, I have not spoiled them, and therefore 
 it is not necessary that I should pay for them. 
 The man, seeing that Harry had not intended 
 to do mischief, told him if he would promise 
 to make amends at some future time, for 
 the mischief which he had done, he would 
 he satisfied. Harry promised he would. 
 Now you find, Harry, said his father, that 
 you must not meddle with what does not be- 
 long to you. 
 
 As they walked on farther, they came to a 
 blacksmith's shop, and, as it began to rain, 
 Harry's father stood under the shed, before 
 the door ; and a farmer came riding to the 
 shop, and asked the blacksmith to put a shoe 
 upon his horse, which he said had lost one a 
 little way oif, and which would be lamed, if 
 he went over any stony road without a shoe. 
 Sir, says the blacksmith, I cannot shoe your 
 horse, as I have not iron enough ; I have sent 
 for some to the next town, and the person 
 whom I sent, cannot be back before evening. 
 
 Perhaps, said the farmer, you have an old 
 shoe, that may be made to fit my horse. 
 
 The smith had no iron, except a bit of small 
 nail rod which was fit only for making nails ; 
 but he said, that, if the farmer looked on the 
 road, perhaps he might find the shoe, which 
 had fallen from hi s horse. Little Harry, hear-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 67 
 
 ing what had passed, told his father, that he 
 thought he could find a shoe for the farmer's 
 horse. His father asked him, where he 
 thought he could find a shoe ? 
 
 He said that he had observed something as 
 they walked along the road, lying in the dirt, 
 which he thought was like a horse-shoe. His 
 father begged that the farmer would wait a 
 little while ; and then he walked back with 
 Harry on the road by which they came to the 
 blacksmith's; and Harry looked very carefully, 
 and after some time he found the horse-shoe, 
 and brought it back to the blacksmith's shop; 
 but it was not fit to be put again upon the 
 horse's foot, as it had been bent by a wagon 
 wheel, which had gone over it. 
 
 The farmer thanked Harry, and the black- 
 smith said that he wished every little boy 
 was as attentive and as useful. He now be- 
 gan to blow his large bellows, which made a 
 roaring noise, and the wind came out of the 
 pipe of the bellows among the coals upon the 
 hearth, and the coals became red, and by de- 
 grees they became brighter and brighter, as 
 the fire became hotter ; and the smith put 
 the old iron horse-shoe into the fire, and after 
 some time it became red and hot like the 
 coals ; and when the smith thought the iron 
 was hot enough, he took it out of the fire with 
 a pair of tongs, and put it upon the anvil, and 
 struck it with a heavy hammer. Harry saw
 
 68 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that the iron became soft by being made red 
 hot ; % and he saw that the smith could ham- 
 mer it into whatever shape he pleased. 
 
 When the smith had made the shoe of a 
 proper size and shape, he took a piece of nail- 
 rod, and heated it red-hot in the fire, by the 
 help of the large bellows, which he blew with 
 his right hand, whilst he held the tongs in his 
 left. 
 
 Harry was going to examine the horse-shoe 
 that the smith had just made, but he would not 
 meddle with it without leave, as he recollect- 
 ed what had happened in the brick-field. 
 
 Whilst he was looking at the shoe, another 
 little boy came into the shop, and, after loun- 
 ging about for some time, he stooped down 
 and took up the horse-shoe in his hand ; but 
 he suddenly let it drop, and roared out vio- 
 lently, and said that he was burned. Whilst 
 he was crying, and blowing his fingers, and 
 squeezing and pinching them, to lessen the 
 pain, the smith turned him out of the shop, 
 and told him, that, if he had not meddled 
 with what did not belong to him, he would 
 not have been hurt. The little boy went a- 
 way whimpering, and muttering, that he did 
 not know that black iron would burn him. 
 
 The smith now took the nail rod out of the 
 are, and it was hotter than the other iron
 
 HARRY AND LUUY. 09 
 
 and it was of a glowing white color ; and 
 when the smith struck it upon the anvil, a 
 number of bright sparks were struck off the 
 iron, on every side, about the shop : they 
 appeared very beautiful. 
 
 The smith then made some nails, and began 
 to fasten the shoe on the horse's foot with 
 nails. Harry, who had never before seen a 
 horse shod, was much surprised that the 
 horse did not seem to be hurt by the nails 
 which were driven into his foot ; for the 
 horse did not draw away his foot ; nor show 
 any signs of feeling pain. Harry's father ask- 
 ed him if he had ever had his nails cut ? 
 
 Harry said he had. 
 
 Father. Did cutting your nails hurt you ? 
 
 Harry. No. 
 
 Father. A horse's hoof is of horn, like your 
 nails, and that part of it, that has no flesh fas- 
 tened to it, does not feel pain : the outside of 
 the hoof may be cut, and may have nails 
 driven into it, without giving any pain to 
 the horse. 
 
 The blacksmith, who was paring the horse's 
 foot, gave a piece of the horn, that he had cut 
 off, to Harry, who perceived that it was nei- 
 ther so hard as bone, nor so soft as flesh ; 
 and the blacksmith told him that the hoof of 
 a horse grows in the same manner as the 
 nails of a man, and requires, like them, to be 
 sometimes pared. 
 
 And when the blacksmith had finished 
 shoeing the horse, he showed Harry the hooi
 
 TO EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 of a dead horse, that was separate from the 
 foot, and Harry saw how thick it was in that 
 part, where the nails were to be driven. 
 
 Harry's father now told him, that it was 
 time to go home, as they had two miles to 
 walk, arid it wanted but an hour to dinner- 
 time. Harry asked his father, how much 
 time it would take up to walk two miles, if 
 they walked as fast as they commonly did, 
 and his father showed him his watch, and 
 told him he might see, when they got home, 
 how long they had been returning. Harry 
 saw that it was four minutes after two o'clock, 
 and, when they got home, it was forty-eight 
 minutes after two ; so Harry counted, and 
 found out how many minutes had passed 
 from the time they left the blacksmith's until 
 they got home. 
 
 When Harry came into the garden, he ran 
 to his sister Lucy, to tell her all that had 
 happened to him, and she left what she was 
 about, and ran to meet him. She thought he 
 had been away a great while, and was very 
 glad to see him : but just then the bell rang, 
 and they knew they must go in directly to 
 make themselves clean before dinner. 
 
 When dinner was over, Harry and Lucy 
 were let go into the garden, and Lucy then 
 begged her brother, to tell her all that had
 
 HARRY AN 7 D LUCY. 71 
 
 happened, whilst he was out in the morning. 
 Harry then told her, how he had spoiled the 
 bricks, and what the brickmaker had said to 
 him ; and he told her, that he had promised 
 to make amends for the mischief which he 
 had done. 
 
 He told her, that to make bricks men dug 
 clay, and beat it with a spade, and mixed it 
 with water, to make it soft and sticky, and 
 that then they made it into the shape of 
 bricks, and left it to dry ; and, when it was 
 hard enough to be carried without breaking, 
 it was put into large heaps and burned, so as 
 to become of a reddish yellow color, and al- 
 most as hard as a stone. 
 
 Then, brother, says Lucy, if you will make 
 some bricks, we can build a house in the little 
 garden mother has lent me. So they went to 
 the little garden, and Harry dug some earth 
 with a little spade, which his father had giv- 
 en him, and endeavored to make it stick to- 
 gether with some water, but he could not 
 make it stick, like the clay, that he saw 
 the brickmakers use ; and he ran in, and 
 asked his father why he could not make it 
 stick with water. And his father asked him, 
 whether it was the same kind of earth that 
 he saw in the brick-field. And Harry said, 
 that he did not know what his father meant 
 by the same kind of earth ; he saw a man 
 dig earth, and dig it in the same manner.
 
 72 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Father. But is the earth in the garden of 
 the same colour as that in the brick-field ? 
 
 Harry. No : that in the garden is almost 
 black ; that in the field is yellow. 
 
 Father. Then they are not the same kinds 
 of earth. 
 
 Harry. I thought all earth was alike. 
 
 Father. You find that it is not ; for you 
 see, that all earth cannot be made to stick to- 
 gether with water. 
 
 Harry went back to the garden, and, after 
 having looked in a great many places for yel- 
 low earth, at last he saw some in the bottom 
 of a hole, that had been dug some time be- 
 fore ; and he ran back, and asked his father's 
 leave to dig some of it ; and, after he had got- 
 ten leave, he dug some of the yellow clay, 
 and found that, when it was mixed with wa- 
 ter, it became very sticky and tough, and 
 that, the more it was mixed, and squeezed, 
 and beaten with the spade, the tougher it be- 
 came. He now endeavored to make it into 
 the shape of bricks ; but he found that he 
 could not do it : and Lucy asked him wheth- 
 er the brickmakers were as long making a 
 brick as he was. 'No,' said he; 'they have a 
 little box made in the shape of a brick, with- 
 out top or bottom, into which they put the 
 clay upon a table, and with a straight stick, 
 like a ruler, they scrape the clay even with 
 the top of the box, and then lifting up the
 
 HAR1. AND LUCY. 73 
 
 box, they find the clay in the shape of a brick 
 upon the table.' ' Harry, says Lucy, there is 
 a carpenter in the house, at work for my 
 mother ; I will go and ask her, to get a box 
 made for you : do you know by what name 
 such a box is called, brother V ' It is called a 
 mould.' 
 
 Lucy's mother let the carpenter make a 
 brickmaker's mould for Harry ; but the man 
 could not begin until he knew what size it 
 should be : how many inches long, how ma- 
 ny inches thick it should be. Harry did not 
 know what the carpenter meant : but Lucy, 
 having always lived with her mother, who 
 had been very kind to her, and who had 
 taught her a great many things, knew what 
 the carpenter meant : and, as she wished to 
 have bricks of the size of those, with which 
 her father's house was built, she went and 
 measured some of the bricks in the wall, and 
 finding that a great number of them were of 
 the same length, she said to her brother, that 
 she supposed they were all alike. Harry told 
 her, that, as the brickmakers used but one 
 mould, whilst he saw them at work, he sup- 
 posed that they made a great number of bricks 
 of the same size, and that the wall would not 
 look so regular as it did, if the bricks were of 
 different sizes. 
 
 Lucy therefore thought, if she could meas- 
 7
 
 74 EARLY LE C ;NS. 
 
 ure one brick, it would be sufficient. She ea- 
 sily found the length and the depth of a brick 
 in the wall, but she did not at first know how 
 to find the breadth, as the bricks lying upon 
 each other, prevented her from seeing their 
 breadth ; but Harry showed her at the cor- 
 ner of the wall that the breadth of the bricks 
 could be seen ; she measured carefully, and 
 found the length to be nine inches, the breadth 
 four inches, and the depth two inches and a 
 quarter. So the carpenter, when he knew 
 the dimensions of the mould, made it, and 
 Harry placed a flat stone upon two large 
 stones, to serve for a table, and he and Lucy 
 made several bricks : but they were a long 
 time before they could make them tolerably 
 smooth, as they stuck to the mould, unless 
 the mould was wetted. They were very hap- 
 py making their bricks, but they did not know 
 how they should burn them, so as to make 
 them hard, but they were determined to try. 
 
 It was eight o'clock in the evening, before 
 they had finished ten bricks, and they were 
 called in, and their mother gave them some 
 bread and milk for their supper, and sent 
 them to bed. 
 
 The next morning Harry and Lucy got up 
 as they did before ; and their father and 
 mother gave them leave to go and look at the 
 bricks they had made ; and Harry felt that 
 they were a little harder than they were the 
 night before ; and Lucy thought that burning 
 them would make them softer ; for she had
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 75 
 
 seen butter, wax, pomatum, and sealing-wax, 
 all made soft by heat, but she did not remem- 
 ber seeing anything made hard by heat. But 
 Harry put her in mind of the crust of pies, 
 which is soft and tough, like clay, before it is 
 baked, and which grov/s hard and brittle by 
 the heat of the oven : and he told her that 
 the iron, of which the blacksmith made the 
 horse's shoe, when he blew the bellows, was 
 hard and black, before it was put into the 
 fire, but that it became red, when it was suf- 
 ficiently heated, and so soft, that the smith 
 could hammer it into what shape he 
 pleased. 
 
 Lucy believed what her brother said, but 
 was resolved to beg, that her mother would 
 take her to see red-hot iron, and a brick-kiln, 
 which Harry told her was the name of the 
 place in which bricks were burnt. 
 
 Whilst they were eating the breakfast, 
 which their mother gave them, Harry asked 
 his sister, what she had been doing the day 
 before, when he was out with his father ; and 
 Lucy told him all she had seen in the dairy, 
 and when she was out walking. When they 
 had done breakfast, his mother lent Harry 
 one of Mrs. Barbauld's little books for chil- 
 dren, and let him read the story of the poor 
 blind fiddler, with which Harry was very 
 much pleased ; and then she let Lucy read 
 the following story.
 
 76 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 
 A man, riding near the town of Reading, 
 saw a little chimney-sweeper lying in the 
 dirt, who seemed to be in great pain, and he 
 asked him, what was the matter ; and the 
 chimney-sweeper said, that he had fallen 
 down, and broken his arm, and hurt his leg, 
 so that he was not able to walk ; and the 
 man, who was very good-natured, got off his 
 horse, and put the chimney-sweeper upon it, 
 and walked beside the horse, and held the 
 boy on till he came to Reading ; and when 
 he came to Reading, he put the boy under 
 the care of an old woman, whom he knew
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 77 
 
 there, and he paid a surgeon for setting his 
 arm, and gave the woman money, for the 
 trouble which she would have in taking care 
 of the boy, and the expense which she would 
 be at in feeding him, till he should be able to 
 work again, to earn money for himself ; and 
 then the man continued his journey till he 
 got to his own home, which was at a great 
 distance. The boy soon got well, and earn- 
 ed his bread by sweeping chimneys at 
 Reading. 
 
 Several years after that time, this same good- 
 natured man was riding through Reading, and 
 his horse took fright upon a bridge, and jumped 
 with the man upon his back into the water ; 
 the man could not swim, and the people who 
 were on the bridge and saw him tumble in, 
 were afraid to jump into the water, to pull 
 him out : but, just as he was ready to sink, 
 a chimney-sweeper, who was going by, saw 
 him, and, without stopping a moment, threw 
 himself into the river, and seizing hold of 
 him, dragged him out of the water, and sa- 
 ved him from being drowned : and when 
 the man was safe upon the bank, and was 
 going to thank the man who pulled him out 
 of the water, he recollected that it was the 
 same chimney-sweeper, whom he had taken 
 care of several years before, and who had 
 hazarded his own life, to save that of his 
 benefactor.
 
 78 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 When Lucy had done reading, her mother 
 asked Harry which he liked best, the man 
 who had taken care of the chimney-sweeper, 
 whom he did not know, or the chimney- 
 sweeper, who had saved the life of the man 
 whom he knew, and who had taken care of 
 him when his arm was broken. 
 
 Harry said he liked the chimney-sweeper 
 best, because he was grateful, and because 
 he ventured his own life, to save that of the 
 man who had been kind to him : but Lucy 
 said, she liked the other man best, because 
 he was humane, and took care of a poor
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 79 
 
 little boy, who had nobody to take care of 
 him, and from whom he could never expect 
 to receive any benefit. 
 
 This is the history of Harry and Lucy for 
 two days. The next part will be the history 
 of another day, when Harry and Lucy were 
 a year older. 
 
 [The words in the following Glossary are used in 
 the several parts of HARRY AND LUCY, and little children 
 will do well to learn their meaning carefully.]
 
 GLOSSARY : 
 
 OR, 
 DICTIONARY OF WORDS. 
 
 THE author does not pretend, that this glos- 
 sary contains full and accurate definitions , 
 ne is well aware of the difficulty of such an 
 undertaking ; and indeed is fully satisfied, 
 that nothing is properly a definition, which 
 does not contain a perfect enumeration of all 
 the particulars, which relate to the subject in 
 question. What he aims at, is to give a pop- 
 ular meaning of the words which he has se- 
 lected, and at the same time, to point out the 
 necessity of accuracy, and of referring to the 
 original root, from which words are derived ; 
 but above all, to excite in children an appe- 
 tite for knowledge. 
 
 All objects of the senses, about which they 
 inquire, should be submitted to the examina- 
 tion of children ; their obvious qualities, 
 names and parts, should thus be rendered fa- 
 miliar to them. This glossary should first be 
 read to children, a little at a time ; and it 
 should be made a subject of conversation with
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 81 
 
 them ; afterwards they will read it with more 
 pleasure. Young children do not read to 
 gratify their curiosity ; their chief pleasure 
 from books arises, at first, from success, in 
 having conquered the difficulty of reading. 
 
 Abstain. To abstain, not to do a thing that 
 one is inclined to do. 
 
 Accept. To receive with pleasure. 
 
 Agility. Activity ; the being able to move 
 quickly and with ease ; to run, and jump, 
 and dance well. 
 
 Air-pump. A machine for trying experi- 
 ments upon air. An air-pump will be de- 
 scribed to little people in another place. 
 
 Associate. To join, to connect. Things 
 that happen at a time when we feel pleasure 
 or pain are remembered together at another 
 time. We remember the faces, and dress, 
 and voice of those from whom we have receiv- 
 ed pleasure ; and we remember what we saw 
 or heard, at any place, that we liked much, 
 or that we disliked ; and we remember things 
 merely because they happened on the same 
 day, or on the same week. Some people re- 
 member things best by thinking of the places, 
 and some by thinking of the time when things 
 happened ; others, by the pleasure or pain 
 they felt at the time when things happened. 
 
 Attention. To be attentive is to think of 
 what we are about.
 
 82 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Attracted. To be attracted by anything is 
 to be drawn towards it, as a piece of iron is 
 drawn or moved towards a magnet, which is 
 placed near it ; or as a light piece of paper 
 is made to fly towards a piece of sealing- 
 wax, or a bit of amber, or a tube of glass, 
 when they are rubbed by the hand, or cer- 
 tain other substances. 
 
 My little boy, or girl, when you read this, 
 ask the person who teaches you, to show you 
 a magnet, or to let you try these experiments. 
 
 Barometer. Little girls and boys may see 
 barometers in many places, but they cannot 
 understand them, without taking a great deal 
 of pains. 
 
 Behavior. The manner in which people act. 
 
 Belong. What is a person's own belongs 
 to him. 
 
 Blacksmith. A man who makes things of 
 iron. 
 
 Blow. rp o blow is to make air move, and 
 when air moves it is called wind. 
 
 Bottom. The lowest part of a thing. 
 
 Breaches. Gaps or holes made in anything. 
 
 Brittle. Easily broken. 
 
 Button-mould. Some buttons are made of 
 metal ; others are made of cloth, or thread 
 wound round pieces of wood, or horn, or bone, 
 or ivory. These pieces are called moulds. 
 
 Moulds are sometimes solid, and sometimes 
 hollow. Silver spoons are formed with a 
 hammer upon a solid iron mould. Orna- 
 ments of plaster of Paris, or alabaster, and of
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 83 
 
 wax, and of clay, and other materials are 
 cast or worked in hollow moulds. Metal 
 and plaster statues are cast between a hollow 
 and a solid mould. Do you understand that, 
 my little pupil 1 
 
 Bubbles are thin hollow globes, filled with 
 air. Bubbles, blown from a tobacco-pipe 
 dipped in soap-suds, show beautiful colors, 
 when the sun shines on them. Such bubbles 
 could not be made with water only, but the 
 addition of soap makes a clammy, or sticky 
 liquor, that can be spread out by blowing air 
 into it. The air in soap-bubbles swells by 
 heat, arid bursts its covering. 
 
 Buzzed. To buz ; to make a noise like 
 that which a fly makes with its wings. 
 
 By degrees. Not all at once. The word 
 degree properly means a step ; by degrees, 
 step after step. 
 
 Care. To take care of a person is to hin- 
 der him from being hurt. 
 
 Clasped. To clasp is to hold fast round 
 anything. 
 
 Clean. What is not dusty, sticky, stained, 
 greasy, &c. ; and what has not or does not 
 look as if it had a disagreeable smell. 
 
 Cobwebs. Nets made by spiders, to catch flies. 
 
 Collected. To collect is to gather together. 
 
 Conduct. People, by thinking whether 
 they are going to do right or wrong, can judge 
 and determine how they ought to act ; their 
 judgment conducts or leads them. Judging
 
 84 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 wisely, and acting accordingly, is good con- 
 duct, the contrary is bad conduct. 
 
 Consented. Agreed to what was asked. 
 
 Considerable. A quantity worth consider- 
 ing or attending to. 
 
 Conversation. Answering what people ask ; 
 listening to what others say ; hearing from 
 others what they know, and telling them 
 what we know. 
 
 Compared. To compare is to consider or 
 think of things ; to find out in what they 
 are like one another, and in what they are 
 unlike. 
 
 Correct. To correct is to alter for the better. 
 
 Counted. Looked or felt to know how 
 many there were. 
 
 Cylinder. What is round like a pencil, or 
 a rolling-stone, or a candle. A cylinder may 
 be hollow, as that part of the socket of the 
 candlestick into which the candle is put. 
 
 Deal. A quantity ; also the name of pine 
 boards in England. 
 
 Determined. To determine is to think of, 
 and resolve to do a thing. 
 
 Dimensions. The sizes of the different 
 parts of any thing. 
 
 Directly, Soon. 
 
 Disappointment. When any thing which 
 we expect does not happen, we feel disap- 
 pointed. Several words in English beg^n with 
 dis ; this syllable dis sometimes means, dif- 
 ferent from ; as in dis-appointment dis-incli-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 85 
 
 nation, dis-joint, dis-prove ; and it sometimes 
 means different ways, as dis-sever, dis-play. 
 
 Distinctly. In a distinct manner. When 
 things are separate from one another, we see 
 them, and can consider them one by one. 
 
 Diverted. Turned aside. To divert also 
 means to amuse, because amusement turns 
 aside our thoughts from applying too closely 
 to any thing. Di, in divert, and several other 
 words, has the same meaning as dis. 
 
 Dry. What is not wet. 
 
 Earned. To earn is to get any thing for 
 working for other people. 
 
 Employ. To employ oneself is to do some- 
 thing. 
 
 Endeavor. To try to do a thing. 
 
 Entertaining: To entertain is the same as 
 to amuse ; it is to give pleasure to the mind, 
 by engaging the attention to something that 
 is agreeable. 
 
 Entirely. Entire is what is not broken or 
 divided ; what is whole : any thing is said 
 to be done entirely, when every part of it is 
 finished. 
 
 My little pupils will observe, that to ex- 
 plain one word, it is necessary to make use 
 of others, that are supposed to be understood 
 by those, whom we are teaching. Sometimes 
 the words which we use are not understood. 
 You must then ask the meaning of them 
 from your father or mother. 
 
 Exactly. With great care. 
 
 Examining. To examine is to consider
 
 86 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 attentively ; to look at every side and every 
 part of any thing ; to consider the truth of 
 facts, and to judge of reasons for or against 
 any opinion. 
 
 Explain. To explain is to make a person 
 understand what he reads, or what is said, 
 or what is shown to him. 
 
 Experiment. A trial (see Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary.) The word trial sometimes means 
 only a trial in a court of justice. 
 
 Evaporate. To evaporate is to turn some 
 fluid into steam. Steam, when it is very hot, 
 is not visible. 
 
 Fear. What we feel when we expect some- 
 thing will hurt us. 
 
 Feeling. Nobody can be told what feeling 
 is : every one knows their own feelings, but 
 they cannot tell exactly what others feel. 
 
 Fill. To put as much into a thing, as it can 
 hold. 
 
 Floating. To float means not to sink in a 
 fluid. 
 
 Fluid. Our little pupils must ask the per- 
 sons who teach them, to show them different 
 fluids, and to let them touch them. Things 
 can sink or float in fluids ; they do not sink 
 perceptibly into solids, unless they are very 
 sharp or heavy. Fluids fill hollow vessels of 
 all shapes ; and they can be poured from one 
 vessel into another. Solid, besides meaning 
 what is not fluid, means what is firm, or 
 steady, or strong : we say a solid founda-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 87 
 
 tion, solid sense, solid timber ; that which is 
 not hollow. 
 
 Forge. A place where smiths heat iron, 
 and form it into different shapes. 
 
 Form. Shape, figure. 
 
 Former. The first of two things which 
 have been mentioned. 
 
 For instance. Here the writer of the book 
 wants to explain one thing, by mentioning 
 something else that is like it. For example 
 has the same meaning as for Instance. 
 
 Full as much. Here the word Full means 
 Quite quite as much. 
 
 Globes. There are two sorts of globes, ter- 
 restrial and celestial : terrestrial globes rep- 
 resent the shape of the earth, and the situa- 
 tion of different countries : celestial globes 
 show the situation of the stars in the sky. 
 
 Habit. When we have done any thing a 
 great many times, it becomes easy to do it ; 
 there are some things which, from habit, be- 
 come so easy to be done, that we do not seem 
 to think of them when we are doing them. 
 Some habits are good, and some bad ; for 
 instance, the habit of attending to what we 
 are about, is good ; tricks, on the contrary, 
 are bad habits. 
 
 Hacks. Brickmakers build their bricks, be- 
 fore they are burned, in long rows, and cover 
 them with turf or straw, to protect them from 
 the rain, and place them in such a situation, 
 as will expose them to the wind and sun, til]
 
 OO EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 they are sufficiently dry for the Kiln. These 
 rows of bricks are called Hacks. 
 
 Happy. People know when they feel hap- 
 py or unhappy. Happiness depends upon 
 feelings, and feelings cannot be exactly de- 
 scribed by words. 
 
 High. What is at a distance from the 
 ground. Things are said to be high, when 
 compared with things that are lower than 
 themselves, tho' they are low, when compar- 
 ed with other things. A boy of five years old 
 is high, or tall, when compared with a child 
 of a year old : and the same boy is low when 
 compared with a boy of fifteen. A table is 
 high when compared with a stool, but low 
 when compared with a chest of drawers. 
 
 Honest. A person is honest, who tells 
 truth, and who does not take or keep what 
 belongs to other people. 
 
 Impression. When any thing hard is press- 
 ed upon something that is not elastic, or 
 springy, but which is much softer than itself, 
 it sinks into it, and leaves marks upon it, as a 
 seal does upon bees-wax, or upon sealing-wax 
 softened by heat. The marks thus made are 
 called impressions, because they are impres- 
 sed upon what receives them. Whatever 
 makes us attend, leaves a remembrance in 
 the mind, which is called an impression, be- 
 cause this remembrance is something like 
 the effect made by one body upon another. 
 
 Issued. To issue is to so out of.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 89 
 
 Joined. Put close together ; made to stick 
 together. 
 
 Kept. What is not thrown away. 
 
 Kiln. A kind of oven, or furnace, in which 
 lime, and bricks, and potter's ware are burned. 
 There are several different kinds of kilns. 
 
 Lamed. Made not able to move without 
 pain or difficulty. 
 
 Latter. The last of two things, as the for- 
 mer is the first of two things. 
 
 Leave. To have leave is to be let to do 
 any thing. 
 
 Lever. A bar of wood or metal, used to 
 lift heavy things. When little boys and girls 
 grow older, the different forms and uses of 
 levers will be explained to them. 
 
 Market. A place where people meet, on 
 particular days, to buy and sell ; both the 
 place and the day are called the market. Peo- 
 ple say, ' To-morrow is the market,' meaning 
 the market-day ; or, ' This is the market,' 
 meaning the market-place. A Fair is a very 
 large market, that is held on particular days 
 in the year. This is applicable only to England. 
 
 Measured. To measure is to find out the 
 size of any thing. 
 
 Mellow. Soft from being ripe. 
 
 Melted. When any thing solid is made fluid 
 by heat, it is said to be melted. 
 
 Microscope. My little friends must grow ol- 
 der before they can understand a microscope , 
 but they may perhaps be let to look at one, 
 8 "
 
 90 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and see how large the parts of plants appear, 
 when seen through the glass of a microscope. 
 
 Minded. To mind is to think of a thing, 
 to turn one's attention, one's mind to a thing. 
 
 Mistake. To mistake is, to take one thing 
 for another ; to mistake the road ; to mistake 
 what is said ; to mistake the meaning of any 
 thing. Mis, in mistake, means wrong or ill. 
 
 Mixed. To mix is to put things together, 
 so as to make them touch in as many of their 
 parts as we can. 
 
 Moderate. Without violence. Moderate pro- 
 perly means what is done by a measure. A 
 moderate quantity : what is usually measured 
 or given for any particular purpose. A pint of 
 milk is a moderate quantity for one person, but 
 a pail full would be an immoderate quantity. 
 
 Neatly. Neat is what is clean, smooth, and 
 in order. 
 
 Nosegay. A bundle of flowers. 
 
 Observed. To observe is to mind what 
 we see, and hear, and touch. 
 
 Opportunity. Fit place, or fit time. (See 
 Dictionary.) 
 
 Orrery. A machine for showing the mo- 
 tions of the moon and planets. 
 
 Pay. To give money for any thing. 
 
 Pence. Two half-pence make a penny j 
 pence also means more pennies than one. 
 
 Perceived. To perceive is to observe some 
 particular thing. 
 
 Print. To print means properly to make 
 an impression. The print of a man's foot in
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 91 
 
 the sand means the mark or impression of a 
 man's foot in the sand ; the print of a seal 
 means its impression. Prints, a kind of pic- 
 tures, are impressions upon paper, &c. of lines, 
 or figures carved upon copper : these lines 
 are filled with ink ; and, when the copper is 
 pressed by a machine for that purpose on pa- 
 per, on silk or vellum, the ink quits the lines 
 in the copper, and sticks to the paper, &c. 
 The beautiful prints in Bewick's history of 
 birds and quadrupeds are carved on wood. In 
 general, prints are engraved on copper, and are 
 therefore called engravings or copper-plates. 
 
 Paddle. A small tool, with which weeds 
 are pulled up ; it also means a kind of oar, 
 with which boats are moved. 
 
 Pebbles. Small stones that have been roun- 
 ded by being rubbed together by the motion 
 of a river or the sea. 
 
 Peculiar. What belongs to a particular 
 thing, person, place, or nation. 
 
 People. A number of persons. The peo- 
 ple means the inhabitants of a country. 
 
 Planted himself. To plant is to put a veg- 
 etable into the earth to make it grow ; it some- 
 times means to drive one thing firmly into 
 another. To plant oneself in a place means, 
 to place oneself in such a manner, as to show 
 that we mean to stay there some time. 
 
 Pleasure. Pleasure is felt : it cannot be 
 described by words. 
 
 Present. At present ; what is doing or pass- 
 ing now. Every thing that we think of, or
 
 92 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that we perceive by any of our senses, must 
 be done or must pass at some time. Time 
 may be either present, past, or to come. What 
 is to come is also called future. When you 
 learn grammar, my little friends, you will 
 read of the present tense, the past tense, and 
 the future tense. Tense means Time. 
 
 Prevent. To hinder a thing from being done. 
 To prevent properly means to come before. 
 
 Proceed. To go forward. 
 
 Process. Method of doing a thing. It prop- 
 erly means the going forwards of any thing. 
 Pro, at the beginning of a word, means for, 
 before, in the place of, forward. 
 
 Particles. Small parts. 
 
 Property. What belongs to a person or to a 
 thing. ' My father's. horse,' means the horse 
 that belongs to my father, or that is my fa- 
 ther's property. There is another meaning of 
 the word property : we .say, ' It is a property 
 of lemons to have a sour taste.' Acidity, or 
 sourness, is a property of lemons, and of vin- 
 egar, and of sorrel, and of crab apples. ' To 
 live longer than other animals without wa- 
 ter, is a property of the camel.' 
 
 Punctuality. Exactness in doing what we 
 have intended to do, or what we have said 
 we would do. 
 
 Punished. To punisli is to be made to feel 
 pain for doing what is wrong. 
 
 Purposely. Designedly ; intending to do it. 
 
 Promise. To promise, is to tell a person
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 93 
 
 that we will do something at a future time 
 which they wish should be done. People 
 may say, that they intend to do a thing, with- 
 out promising. When people promise, they 
 speak as if they expected that the persons 
 who hear them should understand that they 
 firmly resolved to do the thing which they 
 say, and that others might afterwards, if they 
 failed to keep their word, think that they 
 were not to be trusted or depended upon. If 
 we always speak truth, people must believe 
 us : if we do not speak truth always, even 
 those who love us best cannot believe us. 
 
 Quantity. Size or number. 
 
 Quarter of the sky. Quarter properly 
 means fourth part of any thing : but it some- 
 times means not exactly the fourth part, but 
 some parts separate from other parts, as, 
 ' The roads are bad in that quarter of the 
 country :' ' Go to that quarter of the gar- 
 den :' ' He lives in a different quarter of 
 the country.' 
 
 Readily. Easily ; quickly. 
 
 Recollect. To recollect is, to collect again 
 from one's memory. Re, at the beginning of 
 words, sometimes means backwards, and 
 sometimes means again, as, to re-peat, to 
 re-turn. 
 
 Repair. To mend ; also to go to a place. 
 
 Revolution. The going round of any thing 
 to the place from which it set out. 
 
 Round. What has no corners, or angles, 
 is usually called round, though it may not
 
 94 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 be perfectly round. A globe is a figure round 
 in all directions. 
 
 Set. To set means to place ; setting of the 
 sun means its disappearing in the evening. 
 You cannot yet understand what is meant 
 by the motion of the earth, which occasions 
 sun-rise and sun-set. 
 
 Set on fire. To put fire to any thing, so as 
 to make it burn. 
 
 Shadow. My little friends, hold a book, 
 or any thing else, between the candle arid a 
 wall, or between the sun and a wall, and 
 you will see, that what is so held pre- 
 vents the light of the candle or of the sun 
 from going to or reaching the wall : there- 
 fore that part of the wall, from which the 
 light of the sun or candle is kept, is dark. If 
 any hole is in the thing which you hold 
 in your hand, the light will pass through that 
 hole to the wall, and the wall will be light in 
 that place. On the contrary, if a thread, or 
 even a hair, hang at the edge of what you 
 hold, that hair will hinder the light from com- 
 ing to the wall, and a part of the wall, in the 
 shape of that hair or thread, will be dark. 
 
 The shadow you perceive is not a thing ; it 
 is only the want of light on some place. 
 
 Shed. A roof, that is held up by posts,or rails, 
 instead of walls ; or what appears like a roof. 
 
 Shoes. What are put upon feet, to hinder 
 them from being hurt by the ground. 
 
 Shop. A place where people work, or where 
 things are sold.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 95 
 
 Soft. What you can press your finger 
 into ; what is not hard. 
 
 Solid. Look for the word fluid. 
 
 Soot. Smoke collected in small pieces ; 
 condensed steam, or vapor of oil, grease, wax, 
 pitch, tar, or turpentine, resin or rosin, and 
 of various other substances. You have learn- 
 
 the meaning of the word condensed. 
 
 Stamps. Tools of wood, or metal, carved 
 with different figures. These stamps are 
 pressed upon different substances, to make 
 impressions upon them. 
 
 Stalk. That part of a plant upon which 
 flowers or fruits grow. 
 
 Steam. Vapor, caused by heat. 
 
 Stem. The trunk of a plant, that which 
 rises immediately from the root. 
 
 Stick. A piece of wood ; a small long 
 piece of any thing, as a stick of sealing-wax, 
 a stick of brimstone. 
 
 Sticky. What will not fall easily from 
 your hands, when you attempt to let it go. 
 
 Still. In this place still means continual. 
 Sometimes it means to be at rest. 
 
 Store-room. A place where things are laid 
 by to be kept safe. Things laid by for 
 future use are called stores. 
 
 Stoutly. Strongly ; with courage. 
 
 Straight. What is not bent ; what is e- 
 ven, like a ruler. 
 
 Subject. What a person is talking, 61 
 thinking or writing about.
 
 96 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Sufficiently. Enough. 
 
 Supposing. To suppose is to imagine that 
 a thing has happened, or will happen, though 
 perhaps it has not, or may not happen ; as, 
 Suppose the house were to tumble down, it 
 would break the furniture to pieces. Sup- 
 pose that we were to have plum-cake at tea, 
 would you give some of your share to your 
 
 sister ? Now, I hope, my young friends, 
 
 that this last supposition will soon be true. 
 
 Stretched. Pulled or drawn to a larger 
 size than what it usually is. 
 
 Take notice. To observe ; to pay atten- 
 tion to any thing. 
 
 Tallow. The fat of animals. There is a 
 tree in America, which produces a substance 
 like tallow. 
 
 Taught. To teach is to tell people how to 
 do what they do not know how to do. 
 
 Thermometer. An instrument for showing 
 the heat of the air, and of other bodies. The 
 thermometer, barometer, orrery, and air-pump, 
 will entertain young people very much, when 
 they have knowledge sufficient to enable 
 them to understand their uses, and the 
 manner in which they are made. 
 
 Thunder-storm. A storm of thunder : a 
 storm generally means violent wind ; it also 
 means snow, hail, and thunder. 
 
 Trust. To trust people is to believe, and 
 depend upon their truth and honesty. 
 
 Truth. To tell truth is, to tell what we
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 97 
 
 know about any thing without adding to it, 
 and without concealing or hiding any thing. 
 
 Turf. That part of the ground that is cov- 
 ered with grass. Turf, in some places, means 
 a kind of earth, mixt with the roots and leaves 
 of decayed vegetables, which is used for firing. 
 
 Udder. A bag under the belly of a cow, 
 into which the cow's milk comes. 
 
 Understand. To know the meaning of 
 any thing. 
 
 Useful. What is of advantage ; what con- 
 tributes to our comfort, or convenience, or 
 pleasure. 
 
 Valuable. What people wisn to keep, or 
 obtain ; what they like, or love, or what 
 can be sold advantageously. 
 
 War. People fight with one another when 
 they think themselves injured, or when they 
 are angry. When the people of one country 
 fight against the people of another country, it 
 is called war. 
 
 Wistfully. As if he wished for something. 
 Wistfully is a word that is not often used. 
 
 END OF PART I.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PABi II.
 
 100 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 AFTER the summer was past, and after the 
 autumn and winter were past, another 
 spring came. 
 
 Harry and Lucy were now each of them a 
 year older. 
 
 And during the year that had passed, they 
 were become taller and stronger, and had 
 learned a great many things that they did 
 not know before. 
 
 They had learned to read fluently ; and 
 they were therefore able to entertain them- 
 selves a little, during the winter evenings, 
 with reading short stories in books, which 
 their mother gave them ; and they had learn- 
 ed a little arithmetic, and could cast up sums 
 in addition, and could subtract. 
 
 And they had each of them a little garden. 
 Harry dug the ground when it was necessa- 
 ry, and Lucy pulled up weeds, and helped 
 to wheel them away in her little wheelbar- 
 row ; and assisted in sowing seeds of differ- 
 ent sorts, and in planting the roots of flowers. 
 
 In the summer, she and Harry carried wa-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 101 
 
 ter to water the plants and flowers, which they 
 had set and sown in the spring. And they 
 had not only planted flowers, and sown small 
 salad, but Harry had also a crop of peas, and 
 a crop of potatoes, in his garden : for his father 
 had seen that he was industrious, and for that 
 reason he gave him a piece of good ground to 
 be added to his garden ; and, as it had been 
 grass-ground for some time, it was so hard 
 that Harry was not able to dig it. But his 
 father had it dug roughly for him, and he had 
 a cartload of manure laid upon it. Harry had 
 observed very attentively how his father's la-
 
 102 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 borers had set potatoes ; and in the beginning 
 of the month of March he dug his ground 
 over again, and marked it out into ridges, 
 with stakes and a line, and spread the manure 
 upon the ridges, leaving sufficient space be- 
 tween the ridges for the furrows. He then 
 cut some potatoes, which his father had given 
 him, into small pieces, to plant in the ground 
 for sets. He took care to cut them, so that 
 each piece should have an eye in it ; that is 
 to say, that each piece should have one of 
 those little black spots in it, which contain 
 the root of the potato ; for, after the piece of 
 potato has been some time in the ground, 
 it rots away, and the root unfolds, and long 
 fibres spread into the earth. 
 
 He scattered these pieces upon the manure, at 
 eight or ten inches from each other ; and then 
 he dug earth out of the furrows, that lay be- 
 tween the ridges, and covered the bits of pota- 
 toes and the manure with them, laying earth 
 over them both to the depth of three or four 
 inches. When he had made any mistake, or 
 had not done the work well, his father assist- 
 ed him, and showed him how to do it better. 
 
 The rain in the following months, and the 
 heat of the sun in the beginning of summer, 
 had contributed to the growth of Harry's 
 crop, and in the middle of July he had some 
 fine young potatoes fit to eat. 
 
 About this time of the year the weather is 
 generally very hot ; and one day as Harry 
 and his sister were s ; tting under the shady
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 103 
 
 tree, which was mentioned in the former chap- 
 ter, picking some cowslips for their mother, 
 Harry observed that the shadow of the tree 
 reached almost round the stem, and he had seen 
 in the morning when he was at breakfast, that 
 the shadow of the tree fell only on one side 
 of it. He asked his father, who was passing by 
 the reason of this, and his father took him to 
 the door of the house, and desired him to look 
 where the sun was ; and he saw that it was 
 opposite the door, and very high in the sky. 
 ' Take notice, Harry, where you see the sun 
 now, and observe where you see it this even- 
 ing, when the sun is setting.' 
 
 Harry said he knew where the sun set 
 that he could not see it from the hall-door ; 
 but that he could see it from that end of the 
 house, which was at the right hand of the 
 hall-door, as you go out. 
 
 Father. Did you ever observe where it 
 rises ? 
 
 Harry. Yes ; it rose this morning at the 
 other end of the house. 
 
 Father. It did so. Now do you know 
 where are the South, and the North, and the 
 East, and the West ? 
 
 Harry. No ; but I believe the side of the 
 sky where the sun rises is called the East 1 
 
 Father. It is so ; and the side where it 
 sets is called the West. Now you may al- 
 ways know the South and the North, wherev- 
 er you are, if you know where the sun either 
 rises or sets. If you know where it rises,
 
 104 EAULY LESSONS. 
 
 stand with your left hand towards that part 
 of the sky, and then the part of the sky be- 
 fore your face will he the South, and that part 
 of the sky behind your back will be the North. 
 
 In the same manner, if you know where 
 the sun sets, turn your right hand towards 
 that place, and the part of the sky opposite 
 to you will be the South. But, Harry, you 
 must remember that there are only two days 
 in the year, when the sun sets exactly in the 
 West, and rises exactly in the East. 
 
 Harry. What days are those, father 1 
 
 Father. It would be of no use to you now to 
 know the names of those days ; but, when 
 one of them comes, I will let you know it. 
 On that day the sun rises exactly at six 
 o'clock in the morning, and sets exactly at 
 six o'clock in the evening. 
 
 Father, said Harry, I have observed several 
 times, that my shadow in the morning and in 
 the evening is very long ; but in the middle of 
 the day I can scarcely see my shadow. 
 
 Father. You must think about it yourself, 
 Harry ; for, if I tell you every thing that you 
 want to know, without your taking the trou- 
 ble to think, you will not have the habit of 
 thinking for yourself; and without being 
 able to think for yourself, you will never 
 have good sense. 
 
 The bricks, which Harry and Lucy had 
 made the year before, had all been melted
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 105 
 
 away (as the workmen say) by the rain, or 
 broken, because they had not been burnt ; 
 but Harry had dug some tough yellow clay, 
 of a proper sort, in the month of November, 
 before the usual frosts of the winter had begun ; 
 and Harry mixed it well with his spade, and 
 Lucy picked out the little pebbles with a 
 small paddle, and the frost made the clay 
 mellow, as the workmen call it. And in the 
 spring Harry made nearly six hundred bricks, 
 and built them into hacks, and covered them 
 with turf, which his father had let him pare 
 off the surface of the ground. And Harry's 
 father, who had been much pleased with his 
 good behavior and industry, came to the tree 
 where he was at work, and asked him if he 
 would like to go to the brick-field, to see how 
 bricks were burnt. Lucy wished much to go 
 with them, and she ran and asked her mother 
 to let her go ; her mother very cheerfully 
 consented, and said she would go along with 
 her. 
 
 Whilst Lucy and her mother were getting 
 ready to go, Harry ran to his garden, and dug 
 some of his fine young potatoes, and put them 
 into a basket which he had of his own, and 
 returned to the house ; and his father asked 
 him what he intended to do with them. 
 
 Sir, says Harry, last year, when I had spoilt 
 the poor man's bricks, I promised, that I 
 would make him amends, and I determined,
 
 106 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 when I set my potatoes, to let him have the 
 first of them that were fit to he dug, as I was 
 told that early potatoes were more valuable, 
 than those that came in later. 
 
 Father. But you will not be able to carry 
 such a heavy load so far. 
 
 I will try, said Harry. 
 
 He was able to proceed but a little way 
 with his load without resting. 
 
 What could he do 1 
 
 His father was willing to assist him, as he 
 had shown honesty and truth in keeping his 
 promise, and good sense in the means, which
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 107 
 
 lie had taken to make the brickmaker amends 
 for the injury which he had done him. He 
 asked a farmer, whom he knew, and who 
 was going by with a cart, to take the basket 
 into his cart, and to leave it in the brick-field 
 which was at the road-side. 
 
 By the time they had reached the brick- 
 field, to which they were going, and to which 
 there was a pleasant walk through the fields, 
 the farmer, who went by the road, had got- 
 ten with his cart to the same place. 
 
 Harry thanked him, took up his basket, 
 and marched stoutly into the place where the 
 brickmaker was at work. 
 
 The man knew him again, and was much 
 pleased with Harry's punctuality. He took 
 the potatoes out of the basket, and said that 
 they were worth full as much as the bricks, 
 that had been spoilt. 
 
 Harry's father asked the man, to show him 
 how he burned his bricks, to make them hard ; 
 and the man said, he was just going to set 
 fire to a kiln of bricks, and that he might see 
 how it was done. 
 
 The kiln was made of the bricks, that were 
 to be burned : these bricks were built up one 
 upon another, and one beside the other, not 
 quite close, but so as to leave a little room on 
 every side of each brick ; and, in the middle 
 of the kiln, near the bottom, there were large 
 holes filled with furze bushes.
 
 108 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The whole kiln was as large as a large 
 room ; and the man went to his house for a 
 few lighted coals, and he put them under the 
 furze, which took fire and blazed, and the 
 smoke came through the openings, that were 
 left letween the bricks, and the heat of 
 the fire came through them also, and heat- 
 ed the bricks ; and the man told Har- 
 ry's father, that he should supply the kiln 
 with furze and keep the fire strong for six 
 days and six nights, and that then the bricks 
 would be sufficiently burned.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 109 
 
 Harry now said, that he was afraid, that 
 he should not be able to build a kiln for his 
 bricks ; for he was grown wise enough to 
 know, that it required time to learn to do 
 things, which we have riot been used to do. 
 And he asked the brickmaker, whether he 
 thought he could build his bricks so as to be 
 able to burn them. And the man told him, 
 that he believed he could not ; but he said, 
 that on some holiday he would go to the 
 place where Harry's bricks were, and would 
 show him how to build a nice little kiln, if 
 Harry's father would give him leave. 
 
 Harry's father accepted this good-natured 
 offer ; and Harry plainly perceived, that good 
 conduct makes friends, and that a poor brick- 
 maker may be of use even to persons, who 
 are not obliged to work for their bread. 
 
 Whilst they were talking, Lucy was look- 
 ing about, and examining every thing in the 
 brick-field ; and she observed, that, at the far- 
 thest part of the field, some white linen was 
 stretched upon the grass to dry ; and she saw 
 several bits of black dirt lying upon the linen. 
 They did not stick to the linen, but were 
 blown about by the wind, as they were very 
 light. 
 
 Lucy picked up some of these black things ; 
 and when she showed them to her mother, 
 her mother told her, that they were bits of
 
 11.0 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 soot, which had been carried by the w.nd 
 from the brick-kiln. 
 
 But, mother, said Lucy, I don't see any 
 chimney belonging to the brick-kiln ; and 
 soot, I believe, is always found in chimneys. 
 
 Mother. No, my dear, soot is smoke cool- 
 ed ; and wherever there is smoke, there is 
 soot. A great quantity of thick smoke rises 
 from a brick-kiln, or, to speak more properly, 
 a great quantity of smoke is carried upwards 
 by the hot air that rises from a brick-kiln, 
 and, when this smoke cools, parts of it stick 
 together, and make what we call soot, which 
 falls slowly to the ground. This is some of 
 it, that has fallen upon the white linen ; and 
 you see it because it is black, and the linen, 
 upon which it has fallen, is white. 
 
 Lucy. Why does it fall slowly 1 
 
 Mother. Because it is light ; if it were 
 heavier, it would fall faster. 
 
 Lucy. What do you mean by light and 
 heavy 1 
 
 Mother. You cannot yet understand all 
 that I mean by those words ; but, if you take 
 two things which are nearly of the same size 
 in your hands, and if one of them presses the 
 hand, in which it is held, downward, more 
 than the other does, that may be called 
 heavy, and the other may be called light. 
 You must observe, Lucy, that they can be 
 called heavy or light only as compared to- 
 gether or weighed in your hands ; as, for in- 
 stance, if you take a large wafer in one hand.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. Ill 
 
 and a wooden button-mould of the same size 
 in the other, the button-mould wculd be rea- 
 dily perceived to be the heaviest ; you would 
 therefore say, that the button-mould is heavy, 
 and the wafer is light. 
 
 But if you were to take the button-mould 
 again in one hand, and take a half-dollar in 
 the other, you would call the half-dollar hea- 
 vy, and the button-mould light. And if you 
 were to lay down the button-mould, and were 
 to take a dollar into your hand instead of it, 
 you would find the half-dollar would appear 
 light, when compared with the dollar. 
 
 Lucy. But, mother, what do you compare 
 the soot with, when you say it is light ? 
 
 Mother. I compare it in my mind with 
 other things of nearly the same size, as bits of 
 saw-dust or bits of gravel ; but I cannot yet 
 make you entirely understand what I mean. 
 When you have learned the uses and proper- 
 ties of more things, and their names, I shall 
 be better able to answer the questions you 
 have asked me upon subjects, which I cannot 
 explain to you now. 
 
 As they returned home, they saw a poor 
 little girl crying sadly, and she seemed to be 
 very unhappy. And Lucy's mother said to 
 her, Poor girl ! what is the matter with 
 you ? What makes you cry so ? 
 
 O, madam, said the little girl, my mother 
 sent me to market with a basket of eggs, and
 
 112 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 1 tumbled down, and the eggs are all broken 
 to pieces, and I am very sorrow for it ; for 
 my mother trusted them to me, as she thought 
 I would take care of them ; and indeed I 
 minded what I was about, but a man with a 
 sack upon his back was coming by, and he 
 pushed me, and made me tumble down. 
 
 Mother. Will your mother be angry with 
 you, when she knows it ? 
 
 Little girl. I shall tell my mother, and she 
 will not be angry at me ; but she will be very 
 sorry, and she will cry, because she is very
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 113 
 
 poor, and she will want the bread, which I 
 was to have bought with the money, for 
 which I should sell the eggs, and my brothers 
 and sisters will have no supper. 
 
 When the little girl had done speaking, she 
 sat down again upon the bank, and cried 
 very sadly. 
 
 Little Lucy pulled her mother's gown, to 
 make her listen to her, and then she said 
 softly, Mother, may I speak to the poor 
 little girl ? 
 
 Mother. Yes, Lucy. 
 
 Lucy. Little girl, I have some eggs at 
 home, and I will give them to you, if my 
 mother will let me go for them. 
 
 My dear, said Lucy's mother to her, our 
 house is at a distance ; and, if you were to 
 try to go back by yourself, you could not find 
 the way ; but, if the little girl will come to- 
 morrow to my house, you may give her the 
 eggs ; she is used to go to market, and knows 
 the road. In the mean time, my poor little 
 girl, come with me to the baker's at the top 
 of the hill, and I will give you a loaf to carry 
 home to your mother : you are a good girl, 
 and tell the truth. 
 
 So Lucy's mother took the little girl to the 
 baker's shop, and bought a loaf, and gave it 
 to her ; and the little girl thanked her, and 
 put the loaf under her arm, and walked 
 homewards, very happy. 
 
 10
 
 114 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 As he was going over a stile, Harry drop- 
 ped his handkerchief out of his pocket, and 
 it fell into some water, and was made quite 
 wet; and he was forced to carry it in his 
 hand, until they came to a house, where his 
 father told him he would ask leave to have 
 it dried for him. And he asked the mistress 
 of the house to let Harry go to the fire, to 
 dry his handkerchief. And while he held it 
 at the fire, Lucy said, she saw a great smoke 
 go from the handkerchief into the fire, and 
 her mother asked her how she knew it was 
 smoke 1 
 
 Lucy. Because it looks like smoke. 
 
 Mother. Hold this piece of paper in what 
 you think like smoke, and try if you can 
 catch any of those black things, that were 
 in the smoke you saw in the brick-field. 
 
 Lucy. No, mother, it does not blacken 
 the paper in the least, but it wets the paper. 
 
 Mother. Hold this cold plate in what you 
 call smoke that comes from the handkerchief. 
 
 Lucy. Mother, I find the plate is wet. 
 
 Mother. What is it then that comes from 
 the handkerchief? 
 
 Lucy. Water. The water with which it 
 was wetted, when it fell into the ditch. 
 
 Mother. What makes the water come 
 out of it? 
 
 Lucy. The heat of the fire, I believe. 
 
 Mother. At tea to-night, put me in mind 
 to show you water turned into steam, and 
 steam turned into water.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 115 
 
 When they had gotten home, Harry and 
 Lucy went immediately, without losing any 
 time, to cast up two sums in arithmetic, 
 which they were accustomed to do every 
 day. 
 
 Harry could cast up sums in common addi- 
 tion readily ; and Lucy understood the rule 
 called subtraction ; and she knew very well 
 what was meant by the words borrowing and 
 paying, though it is not easy to understand 
 them distinctly. But she had been taught 
 carefully by her mother, who was a woman of 
 good sense, and who was more desirous that 
 her daughter should understand what she did, 
 than that she should merely be able to go on 
 as she was told to do, without knowing the 
 reason of what she was about. 
 
 And after they had shown the sums, which 
 they had cast up, to their mother, they sat 
 down to draw. 
 
 Lucy was learning to draw the outlines of 
 flowers, and she took a great deal of pains, 
 and looked attentively at the prints she was 
 copying. And she was not in a hurry to have 
 done, or to begin another flower ; but she min- 
 ded what she was about, and attended to ev- 
 ery thing, that her mother had desired her the 
 day before to correct. And after she had copi- 
 ed a print of a periwinkle, she attempted tc 
 draw it from the flower itself ; which she had 
 placed in such a manner, as to have the same 
 appearance as the print had, that she might be
 
 116 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 able to compare her drawing from the print 
 with her drawing from the flower. 
 
 She found it was not so easy to draw from 
 the latter as from the former ; but every time 
 ihat she tried, it became easier. And she was 
 wise enough to know, that it was better to be 
 able to draw from things themselves, or from 
 nature, as it is called, than from other draw- 
 ings ; because every body may every where 
 have objects before them, which they may im- 
 itate : and by practice they may learn to draw 
 or delineate objects so well, as to be able to 
 express upon paper, &c. to other people, what- 
 ever curious things they meet with. 
 
 The habit of drawing is particularly useful 
 to those, who study botany ; and it was her 
 love of botany, that made Lucy fond of draw- 
 ing flowers. 
 
 She had a number of dried plants, the 
 names of which she knew ; and she took 
 great pleasure in the Spring, and in the begin- 
 ning of Summer, in gathering such plants as 
 were in flower, and in discovering, by the 
 rules of botany, to what class, order, genus, 
 and species they belonged. 
 
 Harry also knew something of botany ; but 
 he did not learn to draw flowers. He was 
 endeavoring, with great care, to trace a map 
 of the fields about his father's house. He 
 had made several attempts, and he had failed
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 117 
 
 several times ; but he began again, and every 
 time he improved. 
 
 He understood very well the use of a map ; 
 he knew that it was a sort of picture ot 
 ground, by which he could measure the size 
 of every yard, or garden, or field, or orchard, 
 after it had been drawn upon paper, as well 
 as it could be measured upon the ground itself. 
 He could also draw a little with a rule and 
 compasses ; he could describe a circle, and 
 make an equilateral triangle, and a right an- 
 gle, and he had begun to learn to write. 
 
 After they had drawn and written for one 
 hour, it was time for them to go and dress 
 before dinner. 
 
 Harry's walk to the brick-field had made 
 him very hungry, so that he ate heartily. 
 
 Whilst he was eating, his mother told him, 
 that she intended to send him into the gar- 
 den, after dinner, for some strawberries, that 
 were just ripe ; and she advised him not to 
 eat so much pudding, if he wished to eat 
 strawberries. 
 
 Now Harry had learnt from experience, 
 that, if he ate too much, it would make him 
 sick ; he therefore prudently determined, not 
 to have another spoonful of pudding. 
 
 A little while after dinner, Harry and Lucy 
 went with their mother into the garden ; and 
 Lucy was desired to gather six strawberries, 
 and Harry was desired to gather four straw- 
 berries. 
 
 And when they were put together, Harry
 
 1. 18 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 counted them, and found, tnat they mado 
 ten. Lucy was not obliged to count them, 
 for she knew by rote, or by heart, as it is 
 sometimes called, that six and four make ten. 
 
 Each of them next brought five strawber- 
 ries ; and Harry knew, without counting, 
 that when they were put together they would 
 make ten. And Lucy knew, that the parcel 
 of strawberries, which they gathered first, 
 which made ten, would, when added to the 
 second parcel, which also consisted of ten, 
 make twenty. 
 
 They now went, and gathered ten more. 
 One gathered three, and the other gathered 
 seven ; and this ten, added to the former 
 number, made thirty. And they went again, 
 and brought ten more to their mother : this 
 ten was made up of eight and two ; and this 
 ten, added to the thirty they had gathered 
 before, made forty. 
 
 Whilst they were eating them, Harry asked 
 his sister if she knew what was meant by ty 
 in twenty and thirty. Lucy laughed at him 
 for supposing that she did not know it, and 
 said her father had told her. Harry said, that 
 he knew before, that teen, in the words thirteen, 
 fourteen, &/c. meant ten ; but he did not know 
 that ty in twenty, and thirty, &c. meant ten. 
 And he said he did not know, why ten should 
 have three names, ten, teen, and ty. 
 
 Lucy said, she could not tell ; but they ask
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 119 
 
 ed their father ; and he told them, that ten 
 meant ten by itself, without any other num- 
 ber joined to it ; but that teen meant ten with 
 some other number joined to it ; and he ask- 
 ed Harry what thirteen meant. 
 
 Harry. I believe that it is three and ten ; 
 for three, joined or added to ten, make thir- 
 teen. Fourteen is plainly four and ten ; fifteen, 
 five and ten. But why, father, is it not three- 
 teen, instead of being called thirteen ? 
 
 Father. Because it is easier to say thir- 
 teen, than three-teen. 
 
 Lucy. But why is it called twelve ? It 
 should be two-teen. 
 
 Harry. And eleven, father, should be 
 one-teen. 
 
 Father. I cannot now explain to you, my 
 dear, the reason why we have not those 
 names in English ; but you perceive, that it is 
 easy to remember the names of fourteen, fif- 
 teen, sixteen, &c. because we remember that 
 four, five, six, come after one another, and 
 we perceive, that all that is necessary is to 
 add teen to them. You see that fourteen 
 means four and ten four added to ten. 
 
 Harry. But does ty in forty mean four 
 added to ten ? 
 
 Lucy replied, that it did not. 
 
 Father. No it means four times ten ; not 
 ten added to four, but ten added together four 
 times. And fifty means ten added together 
 five times. So you see, that it is useful to 
 have three names for ten, which differ a little
 
 120 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 from one another, but which are also some- 
 thing like each other ; for teen is like ten, 
 and ty is like teen. Teen is always used 
 when ten is added to any number, as far as 
 nineteen ; and ty is always used when more 
 tens than one are counted, as far as a hundred. 
 
 Harry. Then twenty should be two-ty ; 
 and thirty should be three-ty. 
 
 Father. I told you before, my dear, that 
 thirteen is used instead of three-teen, because 
 the former word is more easily pronounced 
 than the latter. Thirty is used instead of 
 three-ty for the same reason. 
 
 Harry. But why is not twenty two-ty 1 
 
 Father. Twenty is made up of ty and of 
 twain, a word that was formerly used for 
 two ; the word twain, joined to ty, makes 
 twainty, which, when spoken quickly, sounds 
 like twenty. 
 
 Harry. But, father, will you tell me an- 
 other thing ? 
 
 Father. No, Harry, we have talked enough 
 about numbers at present ; you will be tired 
 by thinking any longer with much attention, 
 and I do not wish that you should be tired, 
 when you attend to what you are about. 
 Thinking, without tiring ourselves, is very 
 agreeable ; but thinking becomes disagree- 
 able, if we tire ourselves : and as thinking 
 with attention is useful and necessary, we 
 should take care, not to make it disagreeable 
 to ourselves.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 121 
 
 It was now tea-time ; and Harry and Lucy 
 usually supped at the same time that their 
 father and mother drank tea ; so that they 
 had an opportunity of hearing many useful 
 and entertaining things, that passed in 
 conversation : and Lucy, recollecting that her 
 mother had promised to tell her, at tea-time, 
 something more about smoke and steam, put 
 her in mind of what she had promised. Then 
 her mother called for a lighted wax candle, 
 and for a lighted tallow candle, and she desir- 
 ed Lucy to hold a cold plate over the wax 
 candle, and Harry to hold another cold plate 
 over the tallow candle, and in a short time a 
 considerable quantity of smoke, or soot, was 
 collected upon each of the plates. Another 
 cold plate was held over the tea-urn, in which 
 water was boiling, and from which there issu- 
 ed a large quantity of steam, or vapor of wa- 
 ter. This steam was stopped by the plate, 
 which, by degrees, was covered with a num- 
 ber of very small drops, not so large as the 
 head of a miniken pin. After the plate had 
 been held over the steam a little longer, these 
 drops became larger they attracted one an- 
 other ; that is to say, one little drop was joined 
 to another, and made a large drop ; and so on, 
 till at length the drops ran so much together, 
 as to lose their round shape, and to run over 
 the plate. Harry and Lucy were much enter- 
 tained with this experiment. Harry observ- 
 11
 
 122 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ed, that the vapor of water was very different 
 from the vapor of a candle. 
 
 Father. I am very glad to find, that you 
 have so readily learned something of the 
 meaning of the word vapor, which I have pur- 
 posely made use of in the place of the word 
 steam ; but you are mistaken, my dear, in 
 saying vapor of a candle. Lamp-black, soot, 
 and smoke, are formed from the vapor of the 
 oily parts of burning bodies. Formerly peo- 
 ple made use of lamps instead of candles, and 
 the soot of those lamps was called lamp-black, 
 though it should properly be called oil-black. 
 Now pray, Harry, do you know the mean- 
 ing of the word evaporate ? 
 
 Harry. I believe it means being turned 
 into vapor. 
 
 Father. Did you observe any thing else in 
 the experiments which I have just shown 
 to you 1 
 
 Harry. Yes, father 1 saw that the vapor 
 of oil was solid when it was cold. 
 
 Father. Condensed. 
 
 Harry. Yes, condensed. 
 
 Father. And did you not observe that the 
 vapor of water, when condensed, was fluid 1 
 And what did you observe, Lucy ? 
 
 Lucy. I thought, father, that the soot, or 
 lampblack, which you told me was the vapor 
 of oil, did not seem to turn into oil again, 
 when it was condensed ; but that it had en- 
 tirely a different appearance from the tallow 
 and wax from which the oil came ; and yet,
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 123 
 
 that the vapor of water, when it was con- 
 densed, became water again. 
 
 Father. I do not think, my dear children, 
 that my time has been thrown away in show- 
 ing you this experiment. And, as I wish to 
 make you like to attend to what is taught to 
 you, I will endeavor to make it agreeable to 
 you, by joining the feeling of pleasure to the 
 feeling of attention in your mind, by giving 
 you pleasure, or the hope of pleasure, when 
 you attend. 
 
 Harry. I know what you mean, father ; 
 for, if we had not attended to what we were 
 about, you would have endeavored to give us 
 pain. 
 
 Father. No,Harry, you are a little mistaken. 
 I don't wish to give you pain, unless when I 
 want to prevent you from doing something 
 that would be hurtful to yourself, or to other 
 people ; and then I wish to associate, that is, 
 join pain with such actions. But I do not ex- 
 pect, that little boys and girls should be as wise 
 as men and women ; and, if you do not attend, 
 I only abstain from giving you pleasure. 
 
 Harry. But, father, what pleasure were. 
 you going to give us ? 
 
 Father. I was not going to give you any 
 immediate or present pleasure, but only the 
 hope of some pleasure to-morrow. Youi 
 mother and I intend, to-morrow, to walk to 
 breakfast with her brother your uncle, who 
 has come to live at a very pretty place not 
 quite three miles from this house. He was
 
 124 EARLY LESSONS 
 
 formerly a physician, and he has several cu- 
 rious instruments a microscope, an electrify- 
 ing machine, an air-pump, and a collection of 
 fossils, and a few shells and prints ; and he 
 knows very well how to explain things to 
 other people. And the pleasure that your 
 mother and I meant to give you, was to take 
 you with us to-morrow morning. 
 
 Harry and Lucy were very happy when 
 they were going to bed, from the remem- 
 brance of the day that they had passed, and 
 from the hope of being happy on the day 
 which was to come. 
 
 At six o'clock in the morning Harry wa- 
 kened ; and as they were to set out for Flower- 
 hill at seven, he got up, and dressed himself 
 with great alacrity, and Lucy did the same. 
 But, alas ! their hopes were disappointed, for 
 a violent thunder-storm came on before seven 
 o'clock, which prevented their walk to their 
 uncle's. 
 
 Harry planted himself at the window, and 
 examined every cloud as it passed by, and 
 every quarter of the sky, in expectation of 
 fair weather and sunshine. But his sister, 
 who was older, knew that her standing at the 
 window would not alter the weather ; and 
 she prudently sat down, to study botany be- 
 fore breakfast, and to examine some flowers, 
 which she had been gathering in her walk 
 the day before.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 125 
 
 When Harry had stood some time at the 
 window, and had seen no appearance of a 
 change in the sky, he turned about, and look- 
 ed wistfully round him, like a person who did 
 not know what to do with himself. His 
 mother, who, at that instant, came into the 
 room, could not help smiling at the melancho- 
 ly figure which she saw before her ; and she 
 asked Harry what was the matter. Harry 
 owned that he felt sorry and sad, because he 
 had been disappointed of the pleasure which 
 his father had promised him. 
 
 Mother. But, Harry, my dear, your father 
 did not promise you fine weather. 
 
 Harry (laughing). No, mother, I know he 
 did not, but I expected that it would be a fine 
 day, and I am sorry that it is not. 
 
 Mother. Well, Harry, that is all very nat- 
 ural, as it is called, or to speak more proper- 
 ly, it is what happens commonly. But though 
 you cannot alter the weather, you may alter 
 your own feelings, by turning your own at- 
 tention to something else. 
 
 Harry. To what else, mother ? 
 
 Mother. You have several different occu- 
 pations, that you are fond of : and if you turn 
 your thoughts to any of them, it will prevent 
 you from feeling sad upon account of the dis- 
 appointment that you have met with. Be- 
 sides, my dear Harry, the rain must, in some 
 respects, be agreeable to you, and it is cer- 
 tainly useful. 
 
 Harry. O yes, mother, I know what you
 
 120 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 mean my garden. It was indeed in great 
 want of water, and it cost me a great deal of 
 trouble, to carry water to it twice every day. 
 My peas will come on now, and I shall have 
 plenty of radishes Thank you. mother, for 
 putting me in mind of my garden ; it has 
 made me more contented. 
 
 Harry's father now came in, and seeing 
 that he was cheerful, and that he bore his 
 disappointment pretty well, he asked him, if 
 he had ever seen a cork garden. 
 
 Harry. No, father ; I remember I have 
 seen a cork model of a house, but I never 
 saw the model of a garden made of cork. 
 
 Father. But this is not the model of a gar- 
 den, but a sort of small garden made upon 
 cork. Here it is. 
 
 Harry. Why, this is nothing but the plate, 
 or saucer, that commonly stands under a 
 flowerpot, with a piece of cork, like the bung 
 of a barrel, floating in water. 
 
 Father. Notwithstanding its simplicity, it is 
 capable, to a certain degree, of doing what a 
 garden does. It can produce a salad. Here 
 are the seeds of cresses and mustard ; sprin- 
 kle them thinly upon this cork, and lay it in 
 the closet near the south window. 
 
 Harry. When may I look at it again ? 
 
 Father. Whenever you please. But do not 
 touch, nor shake it, for, if you do, it will dis- 
 turb the seeds from the places where they 
 now rest, and that will prevent them from 
 growing. In two or three days you will see,
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 12? 
 
 that cresses and mustard plants have grown 
 from these seeds. 
 
 Harry. Pray, father, will the seeds grow 
 on the cork, as they grow in the ground '] 
 
 Father. No, my dear, it is not the cork that 
 nourishes the plant, but it is the water which 
 makes it grow. If'you cover the bottom of a 
 soup plate with a piece of flannel, and pour 
 water into the place as high as just to touch 
 the flannel, and scatter seeds on the surface 
 of the flannel, they will grow upon it in the 
 same manner that they grow upon cork. 
 
 Harry. But if it is by the water only, that 
 the seeds are made to grow, would they not 
 grow as well, if they were put upon the bot- 
 tom of the plate, without any cork or flannel'? 
 
 Father. No, my little friend, they would 
 not ; because, if there were only so much wa- 
 ter in the plate as to cover only half of each of 
 the seeds, it would be so shallow, as to be evap- 
 orated (you know what that means, Harry,) 
 before the seeds could grow. Perhaps, also, 
 the surface of the plate may be so smooth, as 
 to prevent the fibres of the roots from taking 
 hold of it. And there are many more rea- 
 sons, which occur to me, why it is probable, 
 that they would not grow. 
 
 Harry. But we can try, father. 
 
 Father. Yes, my dear, that is the only cer- 
 tain method of knowing. 
 
 Lucy's mother recollected, that she had 
 promised her the last year, to show her how
 
 128 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 butter was made ; and, as the rain in the 
 morning had prevented Lucy from going to 
 her uncle's, her mother thought it would be 
 a good time to take her into the dairy, where 
 the dairy-maid was churning. Little Harry 
 was permitted to go with his sister. 
 
 They remembered the wide shallow pans, 
 which they had seen the year before ; and 
 they recollected that their mother had told 
 them that the cream, or oily part of the milk, 
 which was the lightest, separated itself from 
 the heaviest part ; or, to speak more properly, 
 that the heaviest part of the milk descended 
 towards the bottom of the pans, and left the 
 cream, or lightest part, uppermost ; arid that 
 this cream was skimmed off twice every day, 
 and laid by, till a sufficient quantity, that is 
 to say, five or six or any larger number of 
 quarts, was collected. 
 
 They now saw twelve quarts, or three gal- 
 lons of cream, put into a common churn : and 
 the dairy-maid put the cream in motion, by 
 means of the churn-staff, which she moved up 
 and down with a regular motion, for seven 
 or eight minutes : when she appeared tired, 
 another of the maids took the churn-staff 
 from her, and worked in her stead ; and so 
 on alternately for about three-quarters of an 
 hour, when the butter began to come, as it is 
 called, or to be collected in little lumps in the 
 cream. Harry and Lucy were much sur- 
 prised, when the lid or cover of the chum
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 129 
 
 was taken off, to see small lumps of butter 
 floating in the milk. 
 
 They saw that the cream had changed its 
 color and consistency, and that several small 
 pieces of butter were swimming on its sur- 
 face. These pieces of butter were collected, 
 and joined together into one lump by the 
 dairy-maid, who poured some cold water into 
 the churn, to make the butter harder, and to 
 make it separate more easily from the milk, 
 which had become warm with the quick mo- 
 tion that had been used to make the butter
 
 130 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 come. Then she carefully took it all out of the 
 churn ; and put it into a wooden dish, and 
 pressed it, so as to force all the milk out of it. 
 She then washed it very clean, in cold water, 
 a great many times, and, with a wooden 
 thing, called a slice, which is like a large flat 
 saucer, she cut the lump of butter, that she 
 had made into pieces, in order to pull out of 
 it all the cow's hairs that had fallen into the 
 milk, of which the cream had been made. 
 
 Many of these hairs stuck to the slice, and 
 others were picked out, which appeared as 
 the butter was cut in pieces. 
 
 The butter was then well washed, and the 
 water in which it had been washed was 
 squeezed out of it. The butter was now put 
 into a pair of scales, and it weighed nearly 
 three pounds. Some of it was rolled into cylin- 
 ders, of about half a pound weight each ; and 
 some of it was made into little pats, and stamp- 
 ed with wooden stamps, which had different 
 figures carved upon them ; the impression of 
 which figures was marked upon the butter. 
 
 Lucy asked what became of the milk, or 
 liquor, which was left in the churn ; her mother 
 told her it was called buttermilk, and that it 
 was usually given to the pigs. 
 
 Lucy. Mother I have heard that in Ire- 
 land and in Scotland, the poor drink butter- 
 milk, and are very fond of it, 
 
 Mother. Yes, my dear, but the buttermilk 
 in Ireland is very different from the butter- 
 milk hore. We separate the thick part of the
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 131 
 
 cream from the rest, for the purpose of ma- 
 king butter ; but in Ireland they lay by the 
 thinner part, which is only milk, as well as the 
 thick cream, for churning, and they add to it the 
 richest part of the new milk, which is what 
 comes last from the cow when she is milked : 
 and what is left, after the butter is made, is 
 for this reason not so sour ; and is more nou- 
 rishing than the buttermilk in this country. 
 
 Lucy. Do not they sometimes make whey 
 of buttermilk and new milk 1 
 
 Mother. Yes, my dear, whey is made or 
 buttermilk and skimmed milk ; but it is not 
 thought so pleasant, nor useful in this country, 
 though it is much liked in Ireland ; probably 
 because the buttermilk here is not so good as 
 it is in Ireland. I am told, that it is frequently 
 preferred in that country to any other kind of 
 whey, even by those who are rich enough to 
 have wine-whey. You see, my dear Lucy, 
 that small circumstances make great differen- 
 ces in things. I have heard it said, that the 
 Irish poor must be very wretched indeed, if 
 they be forced to use buttermilk, instead of 
 milk ; but the fact is, their buttermilk is so 
 much better than ours, that they frequently 
 prefer it to new milk. To judge wisely, we 
 must carefully make ourselves acquainted 
 with the facts about which we are to judge. 
 
 Harry. Pray, mother, why does dashing 
 about the milk with the churn-staff make 
 butter 1 
 
 Mother. The process of making butter is
 
 132 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 not yet exactly understood. Cream consists of 
 oil, whey, and curd, and an acid peculiar to 
 milk. You know what is meant by an acid. 
 
 Lucy. Not very well ; I know it means 
 what is sour. 
 
 Mother. Yes, my dear, sourness is one of 
 the properties of acids ; and when you have 
 acquired a knowledge of a greatei number of 
 facts, that you can compare with one anoth- 
 er, I shall be better able to explain to you 
 what is meant by many terms, that I cannot 
 at present make you understand. 
 
 Harry. But, mother, you have not yet told 
 us why churning makes butter. 
 
 Mother. My dear, it does not make butter ; 
 it only separates the oily or buttery part of 
 the cream from the curd or cheesy part, and 
 from the whey. We do not know exactly 
 how this is done by churning ; but it is proba- 
 ble, that, by striking the cream with the 
 churn-staff, or by shaking it violently, the 
 oily parts, or particles, are, from time to time, 
 forced nearer together, which enables them 
 to attract each other. 
 
 Harry. Yes, mother. I know what that is 
 just as globules of quicksilver run together, 
 when they are near enough. 
 
 Mother. Globules ! Harry, where did you 
 find that new word ? 
 
 Harry. Father told it to me the other day, 
 when I was looking at some quicksilver that 
 he had let fall. He told me the little drops
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 133 
 
 of quicksilver, or mercury, which look like 
 balls, were called globules, or little globes. 
 
 Lucy. And, mother, the drops of dew and 
 rain stand on several leaves separate from 
 one another. On a nasturtion leaf I have 
 seen drops of water almost as round as drops 
 of quicksilver ; and when I pushed two of 
 the drops near one another, they ran together 
 and formed one larger drop. 
 
 Mother. They were attracted together, as it 
 is called. 
 
 Lucy. But the larger drop, which was 
 made of the two drops, was not twice as large 
 as either of the two small ones. 
 
 Mother. Are you sure of that, Lucy ? 
 
 Lucy. No, mother ; but I thought so. 
 
 Mother. Two drops of mercury of the same 
 size, or two drops of any other fluid, when 
 they join, do not form a drop that is twice as 
 large in breadth, or diameter, as one of the 
 small drops ; but such a drop contains exact- 
 ly as much, and weighs as heavy, as the two 
 small drops. 
 
 Harry. I do not understand you, mother. 
 
 Mother. I will, by degrees, endeavor to 
 make you understand me ; but it cannot be 
 done at once, and you have attended enough 
 now. Lucy, it is time to read let us go on 
 with the account of insects, which you were 
 reading yesterday.
 
 134 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Then Lucy and Harry, and their mother, 
 left the dairy, and returned to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Mother. Here, Harry, sit down, and listen 
 to what your sister reads. You will soon 
 be able to read to yourself without assistance ; 
 which, in time, will become an agreeable em- 
 ployment. 
 
 Lucy now read in the Guardian, No. 157, 
 a very entertaining account of the industry 
 and ingenuity of ants. 
 
 Both Harry and she wished much that they 
 could find some ants' nests, that they might 
 see how they carried on their works. Their 
 mother said that she could show them an ant's 
 nest in the garden : and, as it had done rain- 
 ing, she took them into the garden, and show- 
 ed them two little holes in the ground, where 
 the ants had formed cells, which served them 
 for houses to live in, and for store-houses, to 
 keep their eggs and food. They were busily 
 employed in making a road, or causeway 
 from one of these holes to the other. Great 
 numbers were employed in carrying earth, to 
 repair breaches which had been made in their 
 work by the rain. 
 
 Harry laid some dead flies and some small 
 crumbs of bread upon the track where the 
 ants were at work ; but they were not divert- 
 ed from their labor by this temptation ; on the 
 contrary, they pushed the dead flies and the 
 crumbs out of their way, and went steadily 
 on with their business. Harry's mother told
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 135 
 
 him she had tried the same experiment before, 
 and that, perhaps, another time the ants might 
 choose to eat, instead of pushing away the 
 food, that was offered to them. Harry and 
 Lucy staid, patiently watching the ants, till 
 it was time to dress for dinner. 
 
 After dinner Harry's father told him, that 
 the weather was sufficiently fine for their 
 jaunt to Flower-hill ; and Harry now saw, 
 that it was not such a great misfortune, as 
 he had thought it in the morning, to have 
 his walk deferred, and he and Lucy set out 
 joyfully with their father and mother, to go 
 to see their uncle. 
 
 Their way lay through some pretty fields, 
 and over stiles, and through a wood, and 
 along a shady lane. As they passed through 
 the fields, Harry, when they came to a corn- 
 field, was able to tell the name of the grain, 
 which was growing in it, and Lucy told him 
 the names of several of the wild flowers and 
 weeds which were growing among the corn 
 and under the hedges. 
 
 During the last year, Harry had learnt to 
 be very active in body, as well as in mind : 
 and, when he came to a low stile, he put his 
 hands upon the top rail, and vaulted nimbly 
 over it. And Lucy ran almost as fast as her 
 brother, and was very active in every exercise 
 that was proper for a little girl. 
 
 They soon came to a windmill, which went 
 round with great quickness. It was not 
 necessary for his father to warn Harry, not tc
 
 1.36 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 go too near the arms or sails of the windmill, 
 as he had read in a " Present for a little Boy" 
 how dangerous it is, to go within the reach 
 of a windmill's sails. 
 
 He was not however foolishly afraid, but 
 wisely careful. He kept out of the reach of 
 the sails, but he was not afraid of going to the 
 door, or the wheel and lever, by which the 
 top was turned round ; and he counted, with 
 the assistance of his father, the number of 
 turns which the sails made in a minute.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 137 
 
 His father looked at his watch, during one 
 minute ; and Harry counted the number of 
 revolutions, or turns, that the sails made in 
 that time. He found, that they went round 
 forty-five times in a minute. 
 
 Lucy observed, that the middle of the sails 
 moved round through a very small space, but 
 that the ends, or tips of them, went very fast. 
 
 Father. My dear, you see a black spot in 
 that part of the cloth of the sails, which is near 
 the centre of the arms, goes as often round as 
 the tips of the sails What then do you mean, 
 by saying, that the tips move very fast 1 
 
 Lucy. I mean, that they go a great way 
 in a little time. 
 
 Father. What do you mean by a great way? 
 
 Lucy. I am afraid, that I cannot explain 
 myself clearly I mean, that the tips of the 
 windmill sails go through a great way in the 
 air I believe, I should say, that they describe 
 a very large circle ; and the part of the sails, 
 that are near the centre, describe a small circle. 
 
 Father. Now I understand you distinctly : 
 the circle, which the tips describe, is very 
 large, when compared with that described by 
 the part near the centre. I have tried several 
 times how fast the tips of windmill sails 
 move ; and, when there was a brisk wind, 
 they moved a mile in a minute. 
 
 Harry. That is very fast indeed ! Bui 
 how could you tell this, father ? 
 12
 
 138 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Father. I cannot explain to you now ; hut 
 some time hence I will. 
 
 They now went through a wood where they 
 saw squirrels jumping from tree to tree with 
 great agility ; and rabbits, sitting up on their 
 hind legs, looking about them, and running 
 from one hole to another, as if they were at 
 play. Harry asked several questions about 
 the squirrels and rabbits, and about wood- 
 peckers, and other birds that he saw. By 
 these means, he and Lucy got some knowl- 
 edge in their walk, and were amused the 
 whole way to their uncle's. 
 
 Harry. Father, this walk puts me in mind 
 of ' Eyes and no Eyes,' in Evenings at Home. 
 I feel very glad to find, that things, which I 
 have read in that book, are like real things, 
 and that what I have read is of use to me.' 
 
 Neither Lucy nor Harry had ever seen their 
 uncle B ; and they expected, as he was 
 called Doctor, that he must be a very grave 
 old man, who would not take the trouble to talk 
 to little children : but they were much mista- 
 ken ; for they found, that he was very cheerful, 
 and that he talked to them a great deal. 
 
 After tea he took them into his study, in 
 which, beside a great many books, there were 
 several instruments and machines of different 
 sorts. 
 
 They had both seen a barometer and ther- 
 mometer at home, but the barometer at Doc- 
 tor B 's was much larger, than what Harry 
 had seen before; and it was not fixed up against
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 139 
 
 the wall, but was hung upon a stand with 
 three legs, in such a manner, that, when it 
 was touched, it swung about ; and the shining 
 quicksilver, withinside of it, rose and fell, so 
 as to show that it did not stick to the tube, 
 that contained it. There were an air-pump, 
 and a microscope, and a wooden orrery, in the 
 room, and a pair of very large globes. 
 
 Doctor B let Harry examine them. And 
 he was so good, as to answer all the questions 
 that either Lucy or Harry asked him. Harry 
 asked him, what that shining liquid was, 
 which he saw in the tube of the barometer. 
 
 Doctor B. It is a metal called quicksilver ; 
 and it is found in mines under ground. 
 
 Harry. My father showed me quicksilver 
 the other day, and it was liquid, and was spilt 
 on the table, and on the floor ; and how can that 
 be a metal ? I thought metals were all solid. 
 
 Doctor B. So they all are, when they are 
 sufficiently cold. 
 
 Harry. Then is quicksilver hotter than iron? 
 
 Doctor B. I cannot explain to you, at pres- 
 ent, what you want to know. 
 
 Harry. What is that globe made of ? 
 
 Doctor B. Of pasteboard and plaster. 
 
 Harry. How is it made round ? I thought 
 pasteboard was made of flat sheets of paper, 
 pasted upon one another. 
 
 Doctor B. Flat pasteboard is ; but the paste- 
 board upon this globe is made round, by means 
 of a round mould, upon which it is formed 
 You know, I suppose, what a mould is ?
 
 14U tARLV LESSONh. 
 
 Harry. Yes, I do, pretty well. But how 
 can the pasteboard, after it is all pasted to- 
 gether, be gotten off a round mould 1 
 
 Doctor B. After it is dry, it is cut all round 
 with a knife ; and then it will come off the 
 mould in two caps, as the shell of a nut, when 
 it is opened with a knife, comes off the kernel. 
 
 Harry. What is the use of this machine, 
 which you call an air-pump ? 
 
 Doctor B. To pump air out of that glass 
 vessel, which you see. 
 
 Harry. I do not quite understand you, sir. 
 
 Doctor B. No, my dear, it is not probable, 
 that you can ; but I will soon give you a little 
 book, which will teach you the uses of several 
 instruments of this sort. 
 
 Harry. My dear uncle, I cannot tell you, 
 how much I shall be obliged to you. 
 
 Harry and Lucy were much delighted with 
 what they saw at their uncle's ; and as they 
 had not been troublesome, he asked their 
 father and mother, to bring them to Flower- 
 hill, when they next came to see him. 
 
 They returned home that evening, just be- 
 fore it was dark, and went to bed by moon- 
 light. 
 
 Thus ends an account of three days passed 
 by Harry and Lucy. One day when Harry 
 was about five, and Lucy six years old. And 
 two days, a year afterwards, when Lucy was 
 seven, and Harry six years of age. 
 
 END OF PART II.
 
 141 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 TO PARENTS. 
 
 WE are afraid, that the following pages should appear 
 too difficult for children of eight or ten years old, if their 
 thoughts have not been turned to subjects of the sort, 
 which are here introduced to their attention. We, 
 therefore, most earnestly deprecate the use of the follow- 
 ing book, -.ill the understandings of the pupils, into whose 
 handa it may be put, shall have been previously accus- 
 tomed to the terms, and to the objects, which are men- 
 tioned in the following parts of Harry and Lucy. 
 
 The intention of the writers is to prepare the mind 
 for more difficult studies ; and the end, which they have 
 in view, will be completely frustrated, if this little book 
 is crammed into the minds of children. It is intended 
 to be used in very short portions, and not to be formed 
 into necessary tasks ; but to be read when the child's 
 mind has been prepared, by what it has already seen 
 and heard, to wish to hear and see more. 
 
 That these lessons (not tasks) are in themselves in- 
 telligible to children, we are certain ; because they have 
 been readily comprehended by several young children, 
 and in particular by a boy of four years and two months 
 old. All the experiments herein related were shown to 
 him, at different times, within a fortnight. He waa
 
 142 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 much entertained. His lessons were short, but his at- 
 tention was engaged, and he seemed to wish for their 
 return with eagerness. That he did, and does under- 
 stand them thoroughly, and that he has not been taught 
 certain answers to certain questions by rote, we assert. 
 In making this assertion, we do not mean to claim any 
 superiority for this child over other children ; because 
 we believe him to be no prodigy, but a child of good 
 abilities, without any peculiar cleverness. So far from 
 making any such claim, we must acknowledge, that this 
 boy scarcely knows his letters ; and, that he shows no 
 extraordinary quickness in learning them. He is, how- 
 ever, lively and obedient ; indeed, the most lively chil- 
 dren are, if well treated, usually the most obedient. The 
 names of various objects, of common and of uncommon 
 use, are familiar to him ; he has seen a variety of tools, 
 and has been accustomed to handle a few of them. In 
 short, in his education, nothing extraordinary has been 
 said, or taught, or done. Every governess, and every 
 mother, who acts as governess to her own children, may 
 easily follow the same course. Where mothers have 
 not time, and where they cannot obtain the assistance of 
 a governess, it were to be wished, that early schools 
 could be found for early education. To learn to read is 
 to acquire a key to knowledge ; but alas ! it is a key, 
 that is not always used to advantage. There is not an 
 hour in the day, when something useful may not be 
 taught, before books can be read, or understood. Perhaps 
 parents may pity the father and mother, in Harry and 
 Lucy, as much as they pity the children ; and may con- 
 sider them as the most hard-worked, and hard-working 
 people, that ever existed, or that were ever fabled to 
 exist. They may say, that these children never had a 
 moment's respite, arid that the poor father and mother 
 had never any thing to do, nor ever did any thing, but 
 attend to these children, answer their questions, and pro- 
 vide for their instruction or amusement. This view of
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 143 
 
 what is expected from parents may alarm many, even 
 of those, who have much zeal and ability in education 
 But we beseech them not to take this false alarm. Even 
 if they were actually to do all, that the father and mother 
 of Harry and Lucy are here represented to have done, 
 they would not, in practice, feel it so very laborious, or 
 find that it takes up so preposterous a portion of their 
 lives, as they might apprehend. In fact, however, there 
 is no necessity for parents doing all this in any given 
 time, though there was a necessity for the authors 
 bringing into a small compass, in a reasonable number 
 of pages, a certain portion of knowledge. 
 
 Be it therefore hereby declared, and be it now and 
 henceforward understood, by all those, whom it may 
 concern, that fathers or mothers (as the case may be) 
 are not expected to devote the whole of their days, 01 
 even two hours out of the four and twenty, to the tuition 
 or instruction of their children. That no father is ex- 
 pected, like Harry's father, to devote an hour before 
 breakfast to the trying of experiments for his children. 
 That no mother is required to suspend her toilette no 
 father to delay shaving while their children blow bub- 
 bles, or inquire into the construction of bellows, windmill, 
 barometer, or pump. And be it farther understood, that 
 no mother is required, like Lucy's mother, to read or 
 find every evening entertaining books, or passages from 
 books, for her children. 
 
 Provided always, that said fathers and mothers do, at 
 any and all convenient times, introduce or suggest, or 
 cause to be introduced or suggested to their pupils, the 
 simple elementary notions of science, contained in the 
 following pages ; and provided always that they do at all 
 times associate, or cause to be associated, pleasure in the 
 minds of their children with the acquisition of knowledge. 
 RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH, 
 AND MARIA EDGEWORTH.
 
 145 
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 IT was Lucy's business to waken her father 
 every morning. She watched the clock, and, 
 when it was the right time, she used to go 
 softly into her father's room, and to open the 
 curtain of his bed, and to call him. 
 
 ' Father ! father ! itis time for you to get up !' 
 
 Then she drew back the window curtains 
 and opened the shutters and she put every 
 thing ready for him to dress. She liked to do 
 this for her father, and he liked, that she 
 should do it for him ; because the attending 
 upon him taught her to be neat and orderly. 
 She and her brother Harry both liked to be 
 in the room with their father, when he was 
 dressing ; because then he had leisure to talk 
 to them. Every morning he used to tell or 
 teach them something that they did not know 
 before. 
 
 One morning, at the beginning of winter, 
 when the weather was cold, Lucy said 
 
 1 It is much colder in this room to-day, fa- 
 ther, than it was when you got up yesterday.' 
 13
 
 146 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' O no ! I think it is not nearly so cold to- 
 day as it was yesterday, when my father was 
 dressing,' said Harry. 
 
 ' What do you think, father T 
 
 Their father went and looked at something, 
 that hung in his window, and then answered 
 
 ' I think, that it is neither hotter nor colder 
 in this room to-day than it was yesterday, 
 at the time Avhen I was dressing.' 
 
 ' Are you sure, father ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Quite sure, my dear.' 
 
 ' How can you be quite sure, father ?' said 
 Lucy ' How do you know ?' 
 
 ' I can tell how father knows,' cried Harry 
 ' he looked at the thermometer.' 
 
 ' But how does he know by looking at the 
 thermometer ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Come here, and I will show you, for I 
 know,' cried Harry ' Stand up on this chair, 
 beside me, and I will show you ; my uncle 
 told me about it last summer, when I was 
 looking at the thermometer at his house. 
 
 ' Look, do you see this glass tube ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I have seen that very often.' 
 
 1 I know that ; but do you see this part of 
 the tube, at the top, seems to be empty ; and 
 this part of it here, at the bottom, and half 
 way up the glass tube, is full of something 
 white Do you know what that is ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I remember very well my uncle 
 told me, that is quicksilver ; but what then ?' 
 
 ' Stay, be patient, or I cannot explain it to 
 you. Do you see these little marks, these
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 147 
 
 divisions marked upon the edge here, upon 
 the ivory, by the side of the glass tube ?' 
 
 < Yes : well V 
 
 1 And do you see these words printed ?' 
 
 ' Yes : freezing, temperate, Hood /teat, boil- 
 ing-wafer heat I have read those words very 
 often, but I don't know what they mean.' 
 
 ' When it is neither very hot nor very cold, 
 people say it is temperate ; and then the 
 quicksilver will be just opposite to that divi- 
 sion where temperate is written. When it 
 freezes, the quicksilver would be down here 
 at the freezing point ; and, if this thermom- 
 eter were put into boiling water, the quicksil- 
 ver would rise up, and it would be just at 
 the place where boiling-water is written. 
 Blood heat, I believe, means the heat that 
 people's blood is of generally I am not sure 
 about that. But look, here are the numbers 
 of the degrees of heat or cold. Boiling- water 
 heat is 212 degrees : and when it is freezing 
 it is 32 degrees.' 
 
 ' And the heat of this room now is Look, 
 what is it, Lucy 1 
 
 Lucy said it was above the long line mark- 
 ed 40. 
 
 ' Count how many of the little divisions it 
 is above 40,' said Harry. 
 
 She counted, and said seven : and her 
 father told her to add that number to 40, 
 which made 47. 
 
 Then Lucy asked how her father had known
 
 148 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that it was as cold, and no colder in his room 
 to-day, than it was yesterday morning. 
 
 ' Because, yesterday morning, the quicksil- 
 ver rose just to the same place, to 47 degrees, 
 as it does to-day. It always rises or falls 
 with the same degree of heat or cold, to 
 the same place to the same degree.' 
 
 ' But look, look, it is moving ! The quick- 
 silver is rising, higher and higher, in the 
 glass !' cried Lucy. ' Look ! now it is at 
 fifty fifty-two fifty-five ' 
 
 ' Yes : do you know the reason of that V 
 said Harry. 
 
 ' No ; 1 do not know,' said Lucy : ' for it 
 is not in the least warmer now, in this room, 
 I think, than it was when we first looked 
 at the thermometer.' 
 
 ' That is true ; but you have done some- 
 thing, Lucy, to the thermometer, that has 
 made the quicksilver rise.' 
 
 ' I ! What have I done 7 I have not even 
 touched it !' 
 
 ' But you have put your face close to it, 
 and your warm breath has warmed the glass. 
 Now look, when I put my hand, which I have 
 just warmed at the fire, upon the bottom of 
 the thermometer upon this little round ball, 
 or bulb, where the greatest part of the quick- 
 silver is look, how it rises in the tube ! and 
 now I will carry the thermometer near the 
 fire, and you will see how much more the 
 quicksilver will rise.' 
 
 Lucy looked at it, arid she saw, that the
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 149 
 
 quicksilver rose in the thermometer, when it 
 was brought near to the fire. 
 
 As Harry was putting it still closer to the 
 fire, his father called to him, and begged, 
 that he would take care and not to break the 
 thermometer. 
 
 ' O yes, father, 1 will take care. If you 
 will give me leave, now, I will put it into this 
 kettle of water, which is on the fire, and see 
 whether the water is boiling or not. If it is 
 boiling, the quicksilver will rise to boiling 
 water heat, will it not ? I will hold the ther- 
 mometer by the string at the top, so I shall 
 not burn my fingers.' 
 
 His father stood by, while Harry tried this 
 experiment ; and Lucy saw, that, when the 
 water boiled, the quicksilver rose to boiling 
 water heai ; that is, to 212 degrees. 
 
 Then Harry carried the thermometer back 
 again to the window, and left it to cool for 
 some minutes ; and they saw, that the quick- 
 silver fell to the place where it had been 
 when they first looked at the thermometer 
 this morning ; that is to say, to 47 degrees. 
 
 ' Now you see,' said Harry, 'the use of the 
 thermometer. It shows exactly how hot or 
 how cold it is.' 
 
 ' It measures the degrees of heat,' said their 
 father, ' and the name thermometer means 
 measurer of heat, from two Greek words ; 
 thermo means heat, meter means measure, 
 as you may observe in the words barometer, 
 pyrometer, hygrometer, and many others.'
 
 150 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 c But why, father, does the quicksilver rise 
 in the tube when it is hot, and fall when it is 
 cold ? I do not understand why,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' That is a sensible question,' said her father; 
 ' and I am not sure, that I can answer it so 
 as to make you understand me. It has been 
 found, from experience, my dear, that quick- 
 silver expands ; that is, spreads out takes 
 up more room when it is heated, than when 
 it is cold : and it always expands equally 
 when it is in the same heat. So that, by 
 knowing how much more room it takes up, 
 for instance, when it is held near the fire, 
 than it did when it was hanging in the win- 
 dow, we could know how much greater the 
 heat is near the fire, than at the window 
 Do you understand me, Lucy, my dear 7' 
 
 ' Yes, father, I think I do. You say, that, 
 
 when the quicksilver is heated, it 1 forget 
 
 the word ' 
 
 ' Expands, ,' cried Harry. 
 
 ' Yes, expands When quicksilver is heat- 
 ed, it expands, father.' 
 
 ' But what do you mean by expands, my 
 little girl ?' 
 
 ' It spreads out every way its size increa- 
 ses it takes up more room.' 
 
 ' Very well And what then ?' 
 
 1 Why then as it expands when it is heat- 
 ed, people can tell, by seeing or measuring 
 the size of the quicksilver, how hot it is.' 
 
 ' True But how do you think they know 
 exactly how much it increases in size or bulk.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 151 
 
 when it is heated to different degrees of heat ? 
 How do they measure and see at once the 
 measure of this ?' 
 
 ' With a pair of compasses, father,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 ' Look at this little ball, or globe of quick- 
 silver,' said her father, pointing to a little 
 ball of quicksilver in the glass, at the bottom 
 of the thermometer. ' Would it not be diffi- 
 cult to measure this with a pair of compasses 
 every time you apply heat to it ?' 
 
 ' That would be difficult to be sure,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 ' There must be some other way Some 
 way too that it can be measured, without ta- 
 King the quicksilver out of the glass every 
 time.' 
 
 1 I know the way !' cried Harry. 
 
 ' Don't speak don't tell her let your sis- 
 ter think, and find out for herself. And now 
 1 must shave ; and do not not either of you 
 talk to me, till I have done.' 
 
 Whilst her father was shaving, Lucy look- 
 ed at the thermometer, and considered about 
 it ; and she observed, that the thin, tall line, 
 or column of quicksilver, in the little glass 
 tube, rose from the bulb, or globe of quicksil- 
 ver, at the bottom of the thermometer and, 
 when she put her warm hand upon this bulb, 
 the quicksilver rose in the tube. 
 
 ' I know it now !' cried Lucy, ' but I must 
 not tell it, till father has done shaving, lest I 
 should make him cut himself.'
 
 152 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 As soon as father had done shaving, Lucy, 
 who had stood patiently at his elbow, stretch- 
 ed out her hand, and put the thermometer 
 before his eyes. 
 
 ' Here, father ! now I will show you.' 
 
 1 Not so near, my dear do not put it so 
 close to my eyes ; for I cannot see it, when it 
 is held very near to me,' said her father. 
 
 ' There, father ; you can see it now,' said 
 Lucy, ' cannot you 1 and you see the quick- 
 silver, in this little glass globe, at the bottom 
 of the thermometer.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 153 
 
 ' Yes ; I see it,' said her father. 
 
 ' When it is heated, and when it expands, 
 continued Lucy, ' it must have more room, and 
 it cannot get out at the bottom, or sides, or any 
 way, but up this little glass tube. There is 
 an opening, you see, from the uppermost part 
 of that little globe, into this glass tube.' 
 
 c Very well,' said her father ' go on, my 
 dear.' 
 
 ' And, when the quicksilver is made hot, and 
 hotter, it rises high, and higher, in this tube, 
 because it wants more and more room ; and 
 the height it rises to, show how hot it is, be- 
 cause that is just the measure of how much the 
 quicksilver has expanded has grown larger. 
 And, by the words that are written here and 
 by these little lines these degrees, I believe, 
 you call them you can know, and tell peo- 
 ple exactly how much the quicksilver rises or 
 falls and that shows how hot it is.' 
 
 ' Pretty well explained, Lucy I think you 
 understand it.' 
 
 ' But one thing she does not know,' said 
 Harry, ' that, in making a thermometer, the air 
 must be first driven out of the little tube, and 
 the glass must be quite closed at both ends, so 
 as to keep out the air. My uncle told me this 
 and now, father,' continued Harry, ' will 
 you tell me something about the barometer 
 I know, that it is not the same as the ther- 
 mometer ; but I do not know the difference 
 Father, will you explain it to me ?' 
 
 ' Not now You have had quite enough for
 
 154 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 this morning, and so have I. I must make 
 haste and finish dressing, and go to breakfast.' 
 
 ' Yes ; for mother is ready, I am sure,' cri- 
 ed Lucy. ' Here are your boots, father.' 
 
 ' And here is your coat,' said Harry. 
 
 ' Father, to-morrow morning, will you let 
 us blow bubbles, when you have done sha- 
 ving ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' No, no ; I want to hear about the barom- 
 eter to-morrow,' said Harry. 
 
 ' We will settle this when to-morrow comes ; 
 and now let us go to breakfast,' said their 
 father. 
 
 At breakfast, as their father was looking at 
 the newspaper, he found an advertisement, 
 which he read aloud. It said, that a man had 
 brought an elephant to a town in the neigh- 
 borhood, which he would show to any person, 
 who would pay a shilling a piece for seeing it ; 
 and, that the elephant was to be seen every 
 day, for a week, between the hours of twelve 
 and three. 
 
 Harry and Lucy wished very much to see 
 an elephant ; they said, that they would rather 
 see it, than any other animal, because they had 
 heard and read many curious anecdotes of el- 
 ephants. Their father said, that he would take 
 them, this morning, to the neighboring town, 
 to see this elephant. Harry immediately went 
 for his ' Sandford and Merton,' and Lucy 
 jumped from her chair, and ran for her ' In- 
 stinct Displayed.' 1 And they each found, in
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 155 
 
 the^e books, anecdotes, or stories of elephants, 
 which they were eager to read to their father 
 and mother. Lucy had not quite finished 
 breakfast, so Harry began first ; and he read 
 the history of the tailor, who pricked the ele- 
 phant's trunk with his needle ; and he read 
 of the manner in which the elephant punished 
 him. And he read the account of the enraged 
 elephant, who, when his driver's child was 
 thrown in his path, stopped short, in the midst 
 of his fury ; and, instead of trampling upon the 
 infant, or hurting him, looked at him seemingly 
 with compassion, grew calm, and suffered him- 
 self to be led, without opposition, to his stable. 
 
 When Harry had finished reading, Lucy said 
 that she liked these stories of the elephant ; 
 but that she had read that part of Sandford and 
 Merton so often, that she had it almost by 
 heart. ' But now,' said she, ' I will read you 
 something, that will, I hope, be quite new, even 
 to father and mother unless they have read 
 my Mrs. Wakefield's ' Instinct Displayed.' 
 
 Then Lucy read an account of Rayoba's 
 favorite elephants, who were almost starved by 
 their keepers, before it was discovered how 
 their keepers cheated them of their food. When 
 the prince saw that his elephants grew thin 
 and weak, he pnpointed persons to see them 
 fed every day md these people saw the keep- 
 ers give the el ,)hants the food, of which they 
 were most fon , rich balls, called massaulla, 
 composed of spices, sugar, butter,&c. The ele- 
 phants took these balls up in their trunks and
 
 156 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 put them into their mouths, in the presence of 
 the persons, who were to see them fed; but stil 1 
 the elephants, though they seemed to eat sc 
 much every day, continued thin and weak. 
 
 ' At length, the cheat was discovered, and 
 it shows the extraordinary influence the keep- 
 ers had obtained over these docile animals. 
 They had taught them, in the inspectors' pres- 
 ence, to receive the balls, and to put them into 
 their mouths, with their trunk, but to abstain 
 from eating them ; and these tractable crea- 
 tures actually had that command over them- 
 selves, that they received this food, of which 
 they they are so remarkably fond, and placed 
 it in their mouths, but never chewed it; and the 
 balls remained untouched, until the inspectors 
 (that is, the people who had been appointed to 
 see them fed) withdrew. The elephants then 
 took them out carefully, with their trunks, 
 and presented them to the keepers ; accepting 
 such a share only as they were pleased to 
 allow them.' 
 
 Lucy rejoiced at finding, that this curious 
 anecdote was new to her brother, and even to 
 her father and mother. After they had talked 
 about it for some time, and had admired the 
 docility of these poor elephants, Lucy told what 
 she had read of another elephant, who used to 
 gather mangoes for his master, and to come 
 every morning to his master's tent, when he 
 was at breakfast, and wait for a bit of sugai 
 candy. Lucy's mother then desired her to 
 bring from the library table the book, which
 
 HARRY AND LUCY 157 
 
 she had been reading yesterday evening, Mrs 
 Graham's Account of her Residence in India. 
 When Lucy had brought the book, her mother 
 showed her an account of an elephant, who 
 had saved the life of an officer, who fell under 
 the wheel of a carriage ; and a description of 
 the manner in which elephants are tamed ; 
 she told Lucy, that she and Harry, if they 
 chose it, might read these passages. They liked 
 particularly to read, at this time, accounts of 
 this animal, that they might know as much as 
 they could of his history, before their father 
 should take them to see the elephant. They 
 were happy, reading together what their mo- 
 ther had given them leave to read of this book ; 
 and then they looked over the prints, and, by 
 the time they had done this, their mother call- 
 ed Lucy to her dressing room, to write and to 
 cast up sums, and Harry went to his father's 
 study, to learn his Latin lesson. 
 
 Harry and Lucy regularly employed them- 
 selves, for about an hour, every morn- 
 ing, after breakfast; and, in general, they 
 attended entirely to what they were do- 
 ing, while they were learning whatever 
 they had to learn therefore they learned 
 well and quickly. Lucy was learning to 
 write, and she wrote about two lines carefully 
 every day ; always trying to mend each day, 
 faults of which her mother had told her the 
 preceding day. She was also learning arith- 
 metic ; and she could, with the help of a dic- 
 tionary, make out the meaning of half a page
 
 158 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 of French, every day, without being much 
 tired. She knew that nothing can be learn- 
 ed without taking some trouble ; but when she 
 succeeded in doing better and better, this made 
 her feel pleased with herself, and paid her for 
 the pains she took. She now read English so 
 well, that it was a pleasure to her to read ; and 
 to her mother, it was a pleasure to hear her. 
 So the reading English was always kept for 
 the last of her morning employments. She 
 was, at this time, reading such parts of Even- 
 ings at Home, as she could understand. This 
 day, she read the ' Transmigrations of Indur ;' 
 and, after she had read this in ' Evenings at 
 Home,' her mother let her read a little poem, 
 on the same subject, which was written by a 
 young gentleman, a relation of hers. Lucy 
 particularly liked the following description of 
 the metamorphosis, or change, of the bee into 
 an elephant 
 
 ' Now the lithe trunk, that sipped the woodland rose, 
 With strange increase, a huge proboscis grows : 
 His downy legs, his feather-cinctured thighs, 
 Swell to the elephant's enormous size. 
 Before his tusks the bending forests yield ; 
 Beneath his footstep shakes th' astonished field ; 
 With eastern majesty he moves along ; 
 Joins in unwieldy sport the monster throng. 
 Roaming, regardless of the cultured soil, 
 The wanton herd destroy a nation's toil. 
 In swarms the peasants crowd, a clamorous band, 
 Raise the fierce shout, and snatch the flaming brand , 
 Loud tramp the soared invaders o'er the plain, 
 And reach the coverts of their woods again.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 159 
 
 By the time Lucy had finished reading, and 
 that she had worked a little, and had copied 
 the outline of a foot and of a hand, her mother 
 told her to put by all her books, work, and 
 drawings, and to get ready to go out ; for it 
 was now the hour when her father had said, 
 that he should take Lucy and her brother to 
 see the elephant. 
 
 Harry and Lucy walked with their father to 
 the neighboring town, which was about a mile 
 and a half distant from their home ; they went, 
 by pleasant paths, across the fields. It was 
 frosty weather, so the paths were hard ; and 
 the children had fine running and jumping, 
 and they made themselves warm all over. 
 When she was very warm, Lucy said 
 
 ' Feel my hand, father ; I am sure, if I was 
 to take the thermometer in my hand now, the 
 quicksilver would rise finely. How high, 
 father 1 to how many degrees do you think 
 it would rise V 
 
 ' I think,' answered her father, ' to about sev- 
 enty degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer.' 
 
 { Fahrenheit's thermometer ! Why do you 
 call it Fahrenheit's thermometer? I thought it 
 was your thermometer, father !' said Lucy. 
 
 ' So it is, my dear ; that is, it belongs to me, 
 but it is called Fahrenheit's, because a person 
 of that name first divided the scale of the ther- 
 mometer in the manner in which you saw 
 that of mine divided. There are other ther-
 
 160 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 mometers, divided in a different manner; some 
 of these are called Reaumur's thermometers, 
 because they were first divided so by a per- 
 son of the name of Reaumur.' 
 
 ' But, father, will you tell me,' said Harry, 
 ' something about the barometer ?' 
 
 His father stopped him. ' I cannot tell you 
 any thing about that now, my dear : run on, 
 or we shall not have time to see the elephant ; 
 for the keeper of the elephant shows him only 
 till three o'clock each day.' Harry and Lucy 
 ran on, as fast as they could, and they were 
 quite in time to see the elephant. 
 
 They were surprised at the first sight of this 
 animal. Though they had read descriptions, 
 and had seen prints of elephants, yet they had 
 not formed an exact idea of the reality. Lucy 
 said that the elephant appeared much larger ; 
 Harry said it was smaller, than what he had 
 expected to see. Lucy said, that, till she saw 
 it, she had no idea of the colour, nor of the 
 wrinkled appearance of the elephant's skin. 
 The keeper of this elephant ordered him to 
 pick up a little bit of money which he held 
 upon the palm of his hand. Immediately the 
 obedient animal picked it up with the end of 
 his proboscis, and gave it to his keeper. Lucy 
 said, she had never had a clear notion how it 
 moved its trunk, or proboscis, nor how it could 
 pick up such small things with it till she saw 
 it done. Harry said, that he had never had 
 an idea of the size or shape of the elephant's 
 feet, till he saw them. Lucy said, the prints
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 161 
 
 had given her no idea of the size of its ears, 
 or of the breadth of its back. Both she and 
 her brother agreed, that it is useful and agree- 
 able to see real things arid live animals, as 
 well as to read or hear descriptions of them. 
 
 The keeper of this elephant was a little 
 weak-looking man. Harry and Lucy admired 
 the obedience and gentleness of this powerful 
 animal, who did whatever his master desired, 
 though sometimes it appeared to be inconve- 
 nient and painful to it to obey. For instance, 
 when the elephant was ordered to lie down, he 
 bent his fore knees and knelt on them ; though 
 it seemed to be difficult and disagreeable to it 
 to put itself into this posture, and to rise again 
 from its knees. Lucy asked what this elephant 
 lived upon, and how much he eat every day. 
 The man said, that he fed the elephant with 
 rice arid with vegetables, and he showed a 
 bucket, which, he said, held several quarts 
 this bucketful the elephant eat every day. 
 There was, in one corner of the room, a heap 
 of raw carrots, of which, the keeper said, the 
 elephant was fond : he held a carrot to the 
 animal, who took it gently, arid eat it. 
 
 When Lucy saw how gently the elephant 
 took the carrot, she wished to give it one with 
 her own hand ; and the man told her that she 
 might. But when Lucy saw the elephant's 
 great trunk turning towards the carrot, which 
 she held out to him, she was frightened ; she 
 twitched back her hand, and pulled the carrot 
 14
 
 162 
 
 EARLY LESSOWS. 
 
 away from the elephant, just as he was going 
 to take it. This disappointment made him 
 very angry ; and he showed his displeasure, 
 by blowing air through his proboscis, with a 
 sort of snorting noise, which frightened Lucy. 
 Harry, who was more courageous, and who 
 was proud to show his courage, took the car- 
 rot, marched up to the elephant, and gave it 
 to him. The animal was pacified directly, 
 and gently took the carrot with his proboscis, 
 turned back the proboscis, and put the carrot 
 into his mouth. Harry, turning to his father,
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 163 
 
 with a look of some self-satisfaction, said, that 
 ' the great Roman general, Fabricius, was cer- 
 tainly a very brave man, not to have been ter- 
 rified by the dreadful noise made by king 
 Pyrrhus's elephant, especially as Fabricius 
 had never seen an elephant before.' Lucy did 
 not know what Harry alluded to, or what he 
 meant ; because she had not yet read the Ro- 
 man history. He said, that he would show 
 her the passage in the Roman history, as soon 
 as they were at home. And now, having look- 
 ed at the elephant, as long as they wished to 
 look at him, and having asked all the ques- 
 tions they wanted to ask, they went away ; 
 they were glad to get out into the fresh air 
 again, for the stable, in which the elephant liv 
 ed, had a very disagreeable smell. Lucy 
 pitied this animal for being kept cooped up, as 
 she said, in such a small room, instead of being 
 allowed to go about, and to enjoy his liberty. 
 Harry then thought of horses, who live shut 
 up a great part of their lives in stables. He 
 asked his father, whether he thought, that 
 horses, who have been tamed, or broke in as it 
 is called, and who are kept in stables and taken 
 care of by men, are happier or less happy than 
 wild horses. His father said, he thought this 
 must depend upon the manner, in which the 
 horses are fed and treated : he observed, that 
 if horses, who are tamed by man, are constant- 
 ly well fed, and are protected from the inclem- 
 encies of the weather, and are only worked 
 with moderation, it is probable that they are
 
 164. EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 happy ; because, in these circumstances, they 
 are usually in good health and fat, and theii 
 skins look sleek, smooth, and shining. From 
 these signs, we may guess that they are 
 happy; but, as they cannot speak, and tell 
 us what they feel, we cannot be certain. 
 
 During the walk home, Harry and Lucy 
 took notice of many things. There was 
 scarcely an hour in their lives, in which they 
 did not observe and learn something. One 
 subject of observation and of conversation led 
 to another ; but it is impossible to give an 
 account of all these things. 
 
 When they got home, Lucy reminded her 
 brother of his promise about Fabricius and 
 the elephant : he showed her the passage in 
 the Roman history, which he had read ; and 
 that evening Lucy asked her mother, if she 
 might read the whole of her brother's Roman 
 history. Her mother gave her a little history 
 of Rome,* with sixty-four prints in it ; and 
 she told Lucy, that, when she knew all the 
 facts, told in this history, it would be time 
 enough to read another, which might tell her 
 more particulars of the Roman history. 
 
 The next day being Sunday, Harry and 
 Lucy went, with their father and mother, to 
 church. The morning lesson , for this day, was 
 one of the chapters of the Bible, which con- 
 tains the history of Joseph and his brethren 
 
 * Probably Mrs. Trimmer's.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 105 
 
 Harry and Lucy listened attentively, and 
 when they came home from church, they told 
 their father, they wished very much, to know 
 the end of that history, of which they had 
 heard the beginning read by the clergyman, 
 at church. Their father took down, from his 
 bookcase, the large family Bible, and he read 
 the whole of the history of Joseph and his 
 brethren, with which the children were very 
 much interested and touched. 
 
 In the evening, they each read to their 
 mother one of Mrs. Barbauld's ' Hymns in 
 Prose for Children.' Harry and Lucy loved 
 these hymns, and they showed their mother 
 the passages, that they liked, particularly in 
 those, which they read this day. 
 
 ' Mother, this is the passage, which I liked 
 the best,' said Lucy 
 
 ' Look at the thorns, that are white with 
 blossoms, and the flowers, that cover the fields 
 and the plants, that are trodden in the green 
 path : the hand of man hath not planted 
 them ; the sower hath not scattered the seeds 
 from his hand, nor the gardener digged a 
 place for them with his spade. 
 
 ' Some grow on steep rocks, where no man 
 can climb ; in shaking bogs, and deep forests, 
 and desert islands : they spring up every 
 where, and cover the bosom of the whole earth. 
 
 ' Who causeth them to grow every where, 
 and giveth them colors and smells, and spread- 
 eth out their thin transparent leaves 1 
 
 ' How doth the rose draw its crimson from
 
 166 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the dam brown earth, or the lily its shining 
 white ? How can a small seed contain a plant 7 
 
 ' Lo ! these are a part of his works, and a 
 little portion of his wonders. 
 
 ' There is little need, that I should tell you 
 of God, for every thing speaks of Him.' 
 
 Harry was silent for a moment, after he had 
 heard these passages read again, and then he 
 said ' I like that very much indeed, Lucy : 
 but now let me read to you, mother, what I 
 like better still.' 
 
 ' Negro woman, who sittest pining in captiv- 
 ity, and weepest over thy sick child ; though 
 no one seeth thee, God seeth thee ; though no 
 one pitieth thee, God pitieth thee : raise thy 
 voice, forlorn and abandoned one : call upon 
 Him, from amidst thy bonds, for assuredly 
 he will hear thee. 
 
 ' Monarch, that rulest over a hundred states, 
 whose frown is terrible as death, and whose 
 armies cover the land, boast not thyself, as 
 
 though there were none above thee God 
 
 is above thee ; his powerful arm is always 
 over thee ! and, if thou doest ill, assuredly 
 He will punish thee.' 
 
 The next morning, when Harry and Lucy 
 went into their father's room, Harry drew back 
 the curtain of his father's bed, and said 
 
 ' Father, you promised to tell me something 
 about the barometer, and it is time to get up.' 
 
 His father answered, without opening his 
 eyes
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 167 
 
 ' Do you see two tobacco pipes ?' 
 Harry and Lucy laughed : for they thought 
 that their father was dreaming of tobacco 
 pipes, and talking of them in his sleep. Lucy 
 recollected, that her mother said, he had been 
 writing letters late the night before, and she 
 said to her brother 
 
 ' We had better let him sleep a little longei'.' 
 ' Yes, do my dear,' said her father, in a 
 sleepy voice : ' arid take the two tobacco pipes, 
 and my soap, and my basin, and the hot wa- 
 ter, Lucy, that you brought for my shaving, 
 and you may blow soap bubbles, in the next 
 room, for half an hour : and, at the end of 
 that time, come and waken me again.' 
 
 Harry looked about the room, and he found, 
 on his father's table, the two tobacco pipes, 
 which he had been so good as to put there 
 the night before. Taking care to move softly, 
 and not to make any noise, that should disturb 
 their father, they carried out of the room with 
 them the hot water, basin, soap, and tobacco 
 pipes. During the next half hour, they were 
 so happy, blowing bubbles, watching them 
 swell and mount in the air, and float, and 
 burst, trying which could blow the largest 
 bubbles, or the bubbles which would last the 
 longest, that the half hour was gone before 
 they thought that a quarter of an hour had 
 passed. But Lucy heard the clock strike, and 
 immediately she knew, that the half hour 
 was over, and that it was time to go and wa- 
 ken her father again. So she went directly
 
 168 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 for she was very punctual. Her father was 
 now awake, and he got up ; and, while he 
 was getting up, she hegan to talk to him of 
 the pretty soap bubbles, which they had been 
 blowing ; but Harry was impatient to ask his 
 father something about the barometer. 
 
 ' Now, Lucy, let us have done with the soap 
 bubbles,' said Harry, ' I want to- learn some- 
 thing seriously father, I want to understand 
 the barometer perfectly, before I go, next 
 week, to my uncle's, that he may find I am
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 169 
 
 not so ignorant, as I was the last time he saw 
 me : and besides, my cousin Frederic will be 
 at home, and he is only a year or two older 
 than I am : and my uncle says that Frederic 
 understands the use of all the instruments in 
 his room but I did not understand even the 
 barometer father, will you explain it to me 
 this morning ?' 
 
 ' Just let me first show father this one large 
 bubble,' said Lucy, ' and then you may go 
 to the barometer.' 
 
 Lucy blew a large bubble from the end of 
 her tobacco pipe ; but it burst before it had 
 risen far. Then Lucy put by the tobacco 
 pipe and said 
 
 ' Now I will not interrupt you any more 
 with my bubbles.' 
 
 ' But perhaps, my dear Lucy,' said her 
 father, ' the bubbles may lead us to the knowl- 
 edge of some things necessary to be known, 
 before I can explain a barometer. Do you 
 know what a bubble is ?' 
 
 ' O yes, father,' said she ; ' I remember you 
 told me, a great while ago, a bubble is ' 
 
 She was forced to pause, to think, howev- 
 er, before she could describe it. 
 
 ' I believe, it is air, blown into a round case, 
 or globe, of something a soap bubble is air 
 in a round case of soap and water but, father, 
 I have often 'seen bubbles on the top of water ; 
 they are only air and water. But how can 
 the case be made of water ? I can conceive, 
 15
 
 170 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that a globe of soap and water might stick 
 together, because I know, that soap is sticky ; 
 but I wonder at water's sticking together, so 
 as to make a hollow globe.' 
 
 ' When you look at water,' said her father, 
 ' or at quicksilver, you perceive that they aro 
 very different, not only in colour, but in their 
 other properties.' 
 
 ' Properties, father,' said Lucy ' that is a 
 word of which you taught me the meaning 
 properties are what belong to things.' 
 
 ' One of the properties of water is fluidity ^ 
 said her father ' sand, on the contrary, is not 
 fluid. Sand may be poured out, like water 
 or quicksilver ; but the grains, of which it is 
 composed, are separate, and have no visible 
 attraction for each other. The parts of water 
 cohere, or stick together, but slightly ; a small 
 force divides them ; but still they have an 
 obvious tenacity.' 
 
 ' Father ! what is obvious tenacity? tenaci- 
 ty, I know, is stickiness but what does 
 obvious mean ?' 
 
 ' Easily seen plain easy to be perceived. 
 By obvious tenacity I mean tenacity which 
 you can easily perceive ; though nothing 
 viscid, or sticky, is added to the water, you 
 see that water can be spread by air, so as to 
 form the outer case of a bubble.' 
 
 ' But when soap is added to 'water,' said 
 Lucy, ' larger bubbles can be made.' 
 
 ' Yes Why ?' 
 
 ' Because the soap makes the parts of the
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 171 
 
 water stick together more strongly ; but, fa- 
 ther,' continued Lucy, ' what is the reason that 
 a bubble bursts ? for, if the outside case is 
 strong enough to hold it at first, why should 
 not that hold it as well always 7 yet at last 
 it bursts what is the reason of this ?' 
 
 Her father said, that he believed there were 
 several causes, which might make a bubble 
 burst ; and that he was not sure, either that 
 he knew all of them, or that he could explain 
 them all, so as to make Lucy understand them. 
 He mentioned some of the causes ; for instance, 
 the wind blowing against the bubble might 
 break it ; or the heat might expand the air 
 withinside of i t, and burst it ; or, at other times, 
 some of the water, of which the outer skin ol 
 the bubble is made, may run down from the 
 top to the bottom, till it makes the bottom so 
 heavy, and the top so thin, that it bursts.' 
 
 Here Harry was heard to utter a deep 
 sigh. His father smiled, and said 
 
 ' Poor Harry thinks we shall never get to 
 the barometer : but have patience, my boy, 
 we have not gone so far out of the way, as you 
 think we have. Now, Harry, run to my 
 work-shop, and bring me a bladder, which 
 you will find hanging up near the door. And, 
 Lucy, run for the little pair of bellows which 
 is in your mother's dressing room.' 
 
 Harry brought the bladder, and Lucy 
 brought the bellows. They were curious to see 
 what their father was going to show them ; 
 but, just then, the breakfast bell rang. Their
 
 172 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 father could not show or tell them any thing 
 more, that morning, for he was forced to finish 
 dressing himself as fast as he could, and the 
 children helped him eagerly. One reason, 
 why they liked to come to their father every 
 morning, and to be taught by him, was, that 
 he never tired them by forcing them to attend 
 for a long time together. 
 
 Ten minutes at a time he thought quite suf- 
 ficient, at their age ; but then he required com- 
 plete attention. Whenever he found, that they 
 were not thinking of what he was teaching 
 them, he would not say any more to them 
 he sent them away. For this they were al- 
 ways sorry : and this punishment, or rather 
 this privation, was sufficient to make them 
 attend better next day. It seldom happened, 
 that they were sent out of their father's room. 
 Though he never taught them in plat/, as it is 
 called, yet he made what they learned as in- 
 teresting to them as he could ; and he made 
 work and play come one after the other, so as 
 to refresh them. He and their mother took 
 care, that Harry and Lucy should neither be 
 made to dislike knowledge, by having tire- 
 some, long tasks, nor rendered idle, and un- 
 able to command their attention, by having 
 too much amusement. 
 
 Spoiled children are never happy. Between 
 breakfast and dinner, they ask a hundred 
 times, ' What o'clock is it !' and wish for the 
 time when dinner will be ready, or when pud- 
 ding or apple-pie will come. And, when din-
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 173 
 
 ner is over, they long for tea time, and so on. 
 Or they must have somebody to amuse them, 
 or some new toys. From morning till night 
 they never know what to do with themselves ; 
 but, the whole long day they are lounging 
 about, and troublesome to every body, contin- 
 ually wishing, or asking, or crying, for some- 
 thing, that they have not Poor miserable 
 
 creatures ! Children, who are not spoiled, 
 
 will smile when they read this ; and will be 
 glad, that they are not like these, but that they 
 are like Harry and Lucy. 
 
 Harry and Lucy loved pudding and apple- 
 pie, as well as most people do ; but eating 
 was not their only, or their greatest pleasure. 
 Having acquired a love for reading, and for 
 knowledge of many sorts, they found contin- 
 ually a number of employments, and of ob- 
 jects, which entertained and interested them. 
 So that they were never in want of new toys, 
 or of somebody to amuse them. If any ex- 
 traordinary amusement was given to them, 
 such, for instance, as their seeing an elephant, 
 they enjoyed it, as much as possible ; but, in 
 general, Harry and Lucy felt, that they want- 
 ed nothing beyond their common, every-day 
 occupations. Beside their own occupations 
 and amusements, there was something always 
 going on in the house, which entertained 
 them. They were now able to understand 
 their father's and mother's conversation ; liv- 
 ing constantly with them (and not with ser- 
 vants} they sympathized, that is, felt along
 
 174 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 with their parents, and made, to a certain de- 
 gree, a part of their society. Frequently, their 
 mother read aloud in the evenings Harry 
 and Lucy were never desired to listen ; but 
 sometimes they could understand what was 
 read, and sometimes they found it entertaining. 
 
 It happened, one winter evening, that their 
 mother began to read a French book, which 
 they could not understand, yet it seemed to 
 amuse their father so much, that they wished 
 to know what it was about. All that they 
 heard their father and mother saying to one 
 another about it made them sure, that it must 
 be entertaining ; they left their map of Europe, 
 which they had been putting together, and 
 Lucy went and looked over her mother's 
 shoulder at the book, and Harry leaned on his 
 elbows opposite to his mother, listening ea- 
 gerly, to try if he could make out any mean- 
 ing ; but he could understand only a word, 
 or a short sentence, now and then. 
 
 Their mother observed their eagerness to 
 know what she was reading, and she was so 
 good as to translate for them, and to read to 
 them in English, the passages, which she 
 thought most entertaining. She told them, 
 first, what it was about. 
 
 It was the account, given by a traveller, of 
 a high mountain, in Switzerland, and of the 
 manner of living of the people by whom it is 
 inhabited. Harry and Lucy turned to the map 
 of Europe, which they had been putting togeth- 
 er, and pointed to Switzerland, as their mother
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 175 
 
 spcke. The name of the mountain, of which 
 she was reading an account, was Mount Pilate. 
 The name was taken, as their father told them, 
 from the Latin word Pileus, a hat, the top of 
 this mountain being almost always covered 
 with what looks like a hat or cap of clouds. 
 Different points, or heights, of this mountain, 
 are called by different names. The most cu- 
 rious, difficult, and dangerous part of the as- 
 cent, lies between the point called the Ass, 
 and another called the Shaking Stone. 
 
 1 O, mother ! read about the shaking stone,' 
 cried Harry. 
 
 ' No, Harry, let mother begin here, where 
 there is something about des tres belles 
 f raises. I know the English of that, very fine 
 strawberries' 
 
 Her mother began to read just where 
 Lucy's finger pointed. 
 
 ' At the bottom of this road, up to the sha- 
 king stone, is a bank, which is covered with 
 very fine strawberries, from the middle of sum- 
 mer till the 21st of December, if the snow does 
 not cover them before that time. And they 
 may be found, even under the snow, if people 
 will take the trouble to look for them. 
 
 ' All the fir-trees, near this spot, are called 
 storm-shelterers ; because they seem to have 
 been placed there on purpose to shelter people 
 from the storms. Some of them afford a shel- 
 ter of fifty feet in circumference. The rain 
 cannot penetrate through the thick branches 
 of these trees. The cattle are often seen gath-
 
 176 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ered together under them, even in the finest 
 weather ; but it generally happens that a storm 
 comes on, within a quarter of an hour after 
 the cattle have taken shelter in this manner.' 
 
 ' How do the cows, or horses, foresee the 
 storm, mother ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' I do not know, my dear.' 
 
 ' Let my mother go on reading, and ask all 
 your questions afterwards, Lucy,' said Harry. 
 
 ' If I can but remember them,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' From the foot of the mountain, to the point 
 where there is the village called Brundlen, the 
 road is tolerably safe. The people can even 
 drive their cows up here : but with this pre- 
 caution : two men go with the cow, one at the 
 head, and the other at the tail, and they hold 
 in their hands a long pole, which they keep 
 always between the cow and the precipice, so 
 as to make a sort of banister, or rail, to pre- 
 vent her from falling. 
 
 ' People are forced to walk very slowly on 
 this road. Half way up, you come to a curi- 
 ous fir tree. From its trunk, which is eight 
 feet in circumference, spread nine branches, 
 each about three feet in circumference, and six 
 feet long. From the end of each of these 
 branches, which are about fifteen feet from 
 the ground, there rises perpendicularly, a fir 
 tree. This tree looks, in shape, something 
 like a great chandelier, with all its candles. 
 
 ' The village of Brundlen is the highest and 
 last village on the mountain. It stands at the 
 foot of a rock, from which enormous stones
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 177 
 
 and fragments of rock frequently roll down : 
 but the houses are so situated, under the pro- 
 jecting part of the rock, that all which falls 
 from it, bounds over without touching them. 
 The inhabitants of this village possess about 
 forty cows. The peasants mow only those 
 parts of the mountain, where the cattle cannot 
 venture to go to feed. The mowers are let 
 down, or drawn up, to these places, by ropes, 
 from the top of the rock ; they put the grass, 
 when they have mowed it, into nets, which 
 are drawn up, or let down, by the same ropes, 
 wherever it is wanted. It is remarkable, that 
 the kinds of grass and herbs which are found in 
 these mountainous places, are quite different 
 from those which grow in the low countries. 7 
 
 ' My dear children, is it possible, that you 
 are interested about these grasses ?' said their 
 mother. 
 
 ' No, mother,' said Lucy, ' not much about 
 the grasses ; but I like that part about the 
 mowers, let down by ropes ; and I like to 
 hear it, just as you read it to father.' 
 
 1 Round some of these stones, which have 
 partly fallen, or mouldered away, grows a 
 flower, which is a very dangerous poison. At 
 four or five feet distance from this plant the 
 cattle perceive its smell, and they leave the 
 grass around it untouched. The flowers of 
 the different kinds of this plant are of a fine 
 deep blue, yellow, or white. The white are 
 the most uncommon ; and the poison of these 
 it is said, is the most dangerous. Some years
 
 178 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ago a } oung man gathered some of these flow- 
 ers, and held them in his hand, while he de- 
 scended the mountain, to go to a ball. When 
 he was near the place where he was to dance, 
 he felt, that his hand was numb, and he threw 
 away the flowers. He danced, afterwards, 
 for an hour or two, with a young woman, 
 holding her hand all the time ; he grew warm; 
 and the poison, from the poisonous flowers, it 
 is supposed, was communicated from his hand 
 to hers ; for they both died that night.' 
 
 Harry and Lucy were shocked at this story. 
 
 ' But, mother,' said Harry, ' do you think 
 it is true ?' 
 
 ' That was the very thing I was consider- 
 ing,' said his mother. 
 
 Then his father and mother began to talk 
 about the probability of its being true or false. 
 
 They looked back for the description of the 
 flower and for the Latin name, which their 
 mother, knowing that the children would not 
 understand, had passed over. By comparing 
 the name and description of this flower with 
 those in botanical books, where the descrip- 
 tion and accounts of the properties of plants 
 are given, they found that the plant, of which 
 they had been reading, was a species of aconite, 
 called in English, wolf's-bane, or monk 's- 
 /wod, and, as several instances were mentioned 
 of its poisonous and fatal effects, they were 
 inclined to believe, that the story of the young 
 man's and woman's death might be true. 
 
 Lucy, seeing, in some of the botanical books
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 179 
 
 in which her mother had heen looking, pretty 
 colored drawings, or prints of flowers, asked 
 whether she might look at them. Her mother 
 said, that she might, at some other time, but not 
 this evening ; because Lucy could not attend 
 both to looking at these prints and to what she 
 heard read aloud. So Lucy shut the books, 
 and she and Harry put them into their places 
 again, in the bookcase, resolving that they 
 would look at them, together, the next day. 
 
 1 Now, mother/ said Harry, as they drew 
 their seats close to her, and settled themselves 
 again to listen ; ' now for the shaking stone, 
 mother.' 
 
 Their kind mother began immediately, and 
 read on, as follows : 
 
 ' This stone is at the summit of the mountain 
 called the Ober Alp : it overhangs the rock a 
 little, and appears as if it would fall : but this 
 is really impossible, unless it were thrown 
 down by a violent earthquake. The stone is 
 as large as a moderate-sized house. When 
 any one has the boldness to get upon it to lie 
 down, and let their head overhang the stone, 
 they will feel the stone shake, so that it seems 
 as if it were going to fall that moment. In 
 1744, the stone ceased to shake. About six 
 years afterwards, somebody discovered, that 
 this arose from a little pebble which had fallen 
 through a crack, and had remained under the 
 stone. A man fastened a great hammer to a 
 pole, and, after frequently striking the pebble 
 with the hammer, he succeeded in dislodging
 
 180 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 it. Immediately, the stone began to shake a- 
 gain, and has continued ever since to vibrate.' 
 
 ' How glad the man, who struck the pebble 
 from under the stone, must have been, when 
 he saw it begin to shake again !' said Harry. 
 ' I should like to have been that man.' 
 
 ' Now I,' said Lucy, ' could not have man- 
 aged the great pole and hammer ; and I would 
 rather have been the person, who first discov- 
 ered, that the pebble had got under the stone, 
 and that it was the cause, which prevented 
 the stone from shaking.' 
 
 ' O, but any body, who had eyes, could 
 have seen that,' said Harry. 
 
 ' And yet all those people, who lived in that 
 country, had eyes, I suppose,' said Lucy; 'but 
 they were six years before they saw it.' 
 
 ' They had eyes and no eyes,' said her 
 mother, smiling. 
 
 ' That is true ; I understand what you mean, 
 mother,' said Lucy. ' 1 have read ' Eyes and 
 no Eyes,' in Evenings at Home ; and I like 
 it very much. But will you go on, mother, if 
 there is any thing more that is entertaining?' 
 
 ' There is something more, that, perhaps, 
 would entertain you,' said her mother ; ' but 
 I will not read any more to you to-night, be- 
 cause it is time for you to go to bed.' 
 
 ' To-morrow night, mother, will you read 
 some more to us ?' 
 
 ' I will not promise, my dear perhaps, I 
 may have something else to do or, perhaps, 
 you may not deserve it so well to-morrow.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 181 
 
 When to-morrow night comes, it will be time 
 enough to give you an answer.' 
 
 The next morning, when Harry and Lucy 
 went into their father's room, they took care 
 to have the bladder and the bellows ready by 
 the time that he was up, as he had promised 
 to show them some experiments. 
 
 ' Now,' said he, ' we will fill this bladder with 
 air, by blowing air into it with the bellows.' 
 
 He put the end of the bellows into the neck 
 of the bladder, and bid Harry hold the blad- 
 der, and Lucy blow the bellows. 
 
 ' It is now quite full, father,' said Lucy : ' I 
 will tie the air in, with a waxed string round 
 the neck of the bladder. I know how to do that 
 Look, how full, and round and tight it is.' 
 
 ' So it is,' said her father ; ' but now I 
 want to let out some of the air, that is in this 
 bladder, without letting out all of it : how 
 shall I do that ?' 
 
 ' I do not know,' said Lucy; ' for, if I untie 
 this string, I am afraid all the air, that is in 
 the bladder now, would come out.' 
 
 ' That it certainly would,' said her father. 
 
 ' How shall we manage it ?' repeated Harry 
 and Lucy : after considering for some time, 
 Harry observed, that, beyond the place where 
 the bladder was tied, there was enough of the 
 neck of the bladder left to admit the nose of 
 the bellows : he proposed, that they should 
 put in the end of the bellows, and tie the blad-
 
 182 
 
 EARLY LESSONts. 
 
 der round it, and then untie that string with 
 which they had at first tied the neck of the 
 bladder. His father said, that this would do, 
 but he could show him what would do better 
 He gave him a little piece of wood, about two 
 inches long, that had a wooden stopper at one 
 end, that could be easily put into the pipe, and 
 easily taken out. He told Harry, that this kind 
 of pipe and stopper are called a spigot and 
 faucet : he fastened the faucet into the neck 
 of the bladder, so that he could stop the air 
 from coming out of the bladder when it was
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 133 
 
 full, and he could at any time let out the air, 
 by taking away the peg, or spigot. Then he 
 let out a great part of the air that was in the 
 bladder, till it was nearly empty, stopped the 
 faucet again with the spigot, and then carried 
 the bladder to the fire. 
 
 ' Now you will see,' said their father, ' that 
 the heat of the fire will swell the small quan- 
 tity of air remaining in the bladder, till it will 
 fill as great a space, as that which was filled 
 by all the air, which we forced into it at first 
 with the bellows. Here, Harry, take this to 
 the fire, while I shave myself.' 
 
 The children held the bladder near the fire, 
 but it did not swell out immediately ; and, 
 after they had held it a few minutes, they be- 
 gan to think, that it would never do, as Harry 
 said. His father told him, that he must not be 
 so impatient, if he intended to try experi- 
 ments. 
 
 ' If you are tired of holding the bladder,' said 
 he, ' put it down on the hearth, leave it there, 
 and go and do, or think of something else ; 
 and, in about a quarter of an hour, perhaps, 
 it will begin to swell out.' 
 
 1 A quarter of an hour ! that is a great while 
 indeed !' said Harry. 
 
 However, the quarter of an hour passed, 
 while the children were putting some little 
 drawers of their father in order. When they 
 returned, to look at the bladder, they saw that 
 it was beginning to swell, and they watched it, 
 while it gradually swelled. First one fold of
 
 184 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the bag opened, then another, till, at last, it was 
 again swelled out into the shape of a globe. 
 
 ' This is very extraordinary !' said Lucy, 
 ' that the little, the very little air, which father 
 left in the bladder, should have swelled out to 
 this size, without any thing being added to it.' 
 
 ' Without any thing being added to it !' re- 
 peated her father : ' think again, my dear.' 
 
 1 1 have thought again, father ; but, I as- 
 sure you, nothing was added to the air ; for we 
 never opened the bladder, after you put in the 
 what do you call it ! which fastens it.' 
 
 ' The spigot,' said Harry. 
 
 ' The spigot,' said Lucy. ' Well, father, I 
 say, nothing was added to the air.' 
 
 ' I say, daughter, you are mistaken.' 
 
 ' Why, father, we did nothing in the world 
 but hold the bladder to the fire, and leave it 
 before the fire, and nobody touched it, nor put 
 any thing to it, nor near it !' 
 
 Still her father said ' Think again, Lucy.' 
 
 She recollected herself, and exclaimed 
 
 ' I know what you mean now, father 
 heat heat was added to it !' 
 
 Yes,' said her father, ' heat mixed with 
 the air of the bladder ; and, by separating the 
 parts of the air from each other, made them 
 take up more room. Now take the bladder 
 into a cold place ; hang it up near the win- 
 dow, and let us see what will happen.' 
 
 ' I know what will happen, father,' said 
 Lucy. ' When the air in the bladder grows 
 cold, it will take up less room.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 185 
 
 ' It will contract,' interrupted Harry. 
 
 ' And then,' continued Lucy, ' the bladder 
 will shrink, and become less and less, and it 
 will fall in folds, in a kind of loose bag, just 
 as it was before we carried it to the fire. I 
 shall like to see whether this will happen just 
 as I think it will.' 
 
 Lucy hung up the bladder in a cold place, 
 and watched it for a few minutes ; but she 
 did not perceive any immediate alteration. 
 
 1 It will be as long in shrinking as it was in 
 swelling out,' said she ; ' and breakfast will 
 be ready, I am afraid, before it shrinks.' 
 
 c I know a way of making it shrink quick- 
 ly,' cried Harry. 
 
 ' What is it V 
 
 'I will not tell you, but I will show you,' said 
 Harry. ' You shall see what you shall see.' 
 
 He ran out of the room, and soon returned 
 with his little watering-pot full of cold water. 
 
 ' Now, Lucy,' said he, l hold the basin for 
 me under the bladder, that we may not wet 
 the floor hold it steady.' 
 
 He poured cold water from the nose of the 
 watering-pot, so as to sprinkle the water all 
 over the bladder, and immediately the bladder 
 began to collapse, or shrink ; and soon, to Lu- 
 cy's delight, it was diminished to the size of 
 which it had been before it was carried to the 
 fire, and it hung like a loose or flaccid bag. 
 
 ' Father, look !' said she, ' look how much 
 less room the bladder takes up now !' 
 16
 
 186 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Then,' said her father, ' something must 
 have been taken away from what was with- 
 inside of it.' 
 
 Yes,' said Lucy. 
 
 What was taken away V 
 
 Heat.' replied Lucy. 
 
 What took away the heat V 
 
 Cold water.' 
 
 How did that happen ?' 
 
 Lucy answered, she believed that the heat 
 went into the water that the water must 
 have taken away the heat of the air that 
 was within the bladder. 
 
 { Attracted !' cried Harry : ' you should say, 
 that the water attracted the heat from the air.' 
 
 ' Well, attracted,' said Lucy : ' first, I sup- 
 pose, the bladder itself became warm, by touch- 
 ing the warm air withinside of it : then the 
 water took, or attracted as you tell me I 
 must say some of the heat from the bladder : 
 then the bladder attracted some more heat 
 from the inside air : and so on.' 
 
 ' Accurately stated, Lucy,' said her father ; 
 ' Now you have thought enough of all these 
 
 things Stay ! before you go, tell me 
 
 what you have learned from the experiments 
 you have tried this morning.' 
 
 ' Experiments, father !' said Lucy, smiling, 
 and looking surprised ' I did not think we 
 had been trying experiments ! I thought, 
 that only grown up people, and philosophers, 
 could try experiments.' 
 
 ' There you were mistaken, my dear,' said
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 187 
 
 ner father ; ' an experiment is only a trial of 
 any thing, or something done to find out what 
 will be the consequence. You carried the 
 bladder to the fire, or poured cold water upon 
 it, to find out what would happen to the air 
 withinside of it. Children can try some ex- 
 periments, as well as grown up people can.' 
 
 ' Father,' cried Harry, ' I have heard you 
 talk of Dr. Franklin ' 
 
 1 And of Newton,' said Lucy, 'I heard some- 
 thing ' 
 
 ' Very likely, my dear,' interrupted her fa- 
 ther ; ' but do not fly off to Dr. Franklin and 
 Newton, till you have answered the question I 
 asked you just now. What have you learned 
 from the experiments you tried this morning ?' 
 
 After Lucy had recollected what she had 
 seen and heard, she answered ; ' I have 
 learnt, that heat expanded, or spread out, the 
 air in this bladder ; and that cold ' 
 
 1 That is, the want of heat,' interrupted 
 her father. 
 
 ' That cold, or the want of heat, made or 
 let the air in the bladder grow smaller.' 
 
 ' Contract,' said Harry. 
 
 ' The same effects would be produced by ta- 
 king away heat, not only from the air in that 
 bladder, but from all air,' said their father. 
 ' Now put the bladder in the place where you 
 found it, and let us divert ourselves with 
 something else. Can you cut capers, Harry ?' 
 
 ' Yes, father ; but first I want to say some- 
 thing : How very little we learn every morn-
 
 188 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ing ! I looked at your watch, when I came 
 into your room, and it was just half after eight 
 o'clock, and now it is nine. So we have been 
 
 here half an hour Half an hour ! I can 
 
 scarcely believe that we have been here so 
 long, father ?' 
 
 ' Then you have not been tired, Harry ?' 
 
 ' No, not at all : But I am afraid, father, 
 that, if we learn so very little every day, we 
 shall never get on.' 
 
 ' You need not be afraid of that, my dear : 
 learning a little, a very little, accurately, every 
 day, is better than learning a great deal 
 inaccurately.' 
 
 1 A little and a little, every day regularly, 
 make a great deal in many days,' said Lucy. 
 ' I have found this to be true, when I have 
 been at work, and when I have done but 
 very little each day.' 
 
 ' But when shall we get to the barometer ?' 
 said Harry. 
 
 ' O ! is that what you mean T said his father. 
 ' Patience, my boy ! Patience till to-morrow !' 
 
 ' Patience till to-morrow I must have, for I 
 cannot help it/ said Harry, sighing ' I wish 
 to-day was over.' 
 
 ' No,' said Lucy, 'you need not wish to-day 
 was over. Recollect, brother, that we have 
 a great many pleasant things to do to-day. 
 I am sure, Harry, you cannot wish, that this 
 evening was over, because you know 
 though mother did not promise it if we 
 deserve it as I am sure we shall she will
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 189 
 
 read to us some more of that man's en- 
 tertaining travels.' 
 
 During this day, Harry and Lucy were at- 
 tentive to every thing, that they had to do. It 
 snowed, so that, after they had finished their 
 lessons, they could not go out, or take as much 
 exercise as usual ; but they warmed them- 
 selves by playing at hide and seek, and at 
 battledore and shuttlecock, and at ball, at 
 which they were allowed to play, in an empty 
 gallery, where they could do no mischief.
 
 190 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The evening came, and they were eager to 
 Know whether their mother would read to 
 them this night. She smiled, when Lucy 
 brought the book to her, and said 
 
 ' Yes, my dears, you have both been atten- 
 tive to every thing you had to do to-day, and 
 I shall be glad to give you this pleasure ; 
 but, first, I must write a letter.' 
 
 ' While you are writing, mother,' said 
 Lucy, ' may we try if we can make out any 
 of this French 1 here is something, that you 
 missed, about la statue et la caverne the 
 statue and the cavern which looks as if it 
 was entertaining : and I wish I could make 
 it out May I try, mother ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, provided you do not turn me 
 into a dictionary ; because I cannot write my 
 letter, and be your dictionary at the same time.' 
 
 Without their mother's assistance, Harry 
 and Lucy made out, pretty well, the sense of 
 what they wanted to read ; and, as soon as 
 their mother had finished her letter, Lucy be- 
 gan to tell her all, that they had translated. 
 
 ' We have found out, mother, that it is an 
 account of a man of the name of Huber, who 
 wanted to go into a cavern, in a rock of black, 
 or blackish stone (noiraire^) to see a statue 
 called Dominique, which was of white stone, 
 and seemed to be about thirty feet high above 
 twice as high as this room, mother ! But no 
 one had ever been able to get to this statue, 
 the way to it was so dangerous ; they could, 
 however, distinguish plainly, that it was the
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 19J 
 
 figure of a man doing something on a ta- 
 ble 
 
 ' Jiccoud& sur une table.' 
 
 ' Mother, you must, if you please, be so 
 good, as to tell us what accoude is ; for we 
 could not find it in the dictionary.' 
 
 ' It is just what Harry is doing at this mo- 
 ment leaning his elbows on the table.' 
 
 1 O, now I understand it perfectly. The 
 figure of a man leaning with his elbows on 
 the table, his legs crossed, and seeming to 
 guard the entrance of this cavern. Well, 
 ma'am, nobody had ever been able to get to 
 his statue I told you that.' 
 
 ' True, my dear ; therefore you need not 
 tell it to me again.' 
 
 ' Very well, ma'am but this man, of the 
 name of Huber, who was a very courageous 
 person, was determined to get to the statue. 
 So, finding that he could not clamber up from 
 the bottom of this rock, he had himself let 
 down from the top, by a long, a very long 
 rope, which he tied, I suppose, round his body ; 
 but it does not say so. When he was let 
 down What do you think he found ? He 
 found How provoking ! that the rock over- 
 hung the cavern so much, that, as he hung 
 down this way, like a plumb line, as Harry 
 says, he never could reach the entrance of the 
 cavern, which was far in, far under the rock ; 
 so he was forced to call to the people to draw 
 him up again. But he had seen enough to be 
 almost sure, the statue was really a statue of
 
 192 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 a man, and not a white stone that looked like 
 
 a man, as some people thought it was So 
 
 then there is something about the statue's 
 not being ' I ouvrage fortuit de la nature 1 
 that we could not understand, so we missed 
 it. So the man, Huber, got a pole, to the end 
 of which he fastened a hook, which he thought 
 he could hook into the rock, and pull himself 
 closer and closer to the entrance of the cav- 
 ern, and so get in So ' 
 
 ' But, my dear, leave out so do not sew 
 your story together so.' 
 
 ' So, ma'am 1 mean he was let down 
 
 a second time but, O ! now, ma'am, the ter- 
 rible thing ! the rope twisted and twisted 
 continually ; his weight was more than the 
 rope could bear, and it broke, and he fell, and 
 was dashed to pieces !' 
 
 ' Poor man ! Was not he very courageous, 
 father V said Harry ; ' I admire him very 
 much.' 
 
 ' He was courageous, certainly,' said Har- 
 ry's father ; ' but, before we admire him very 
 much, we should consider what his motive 
 was, or what good he could do by hazarding 
 his life. If it was with the hope of being of 
 any great service to himself, or to any one 
 else ; if it was to accomplish any useful or 
 generous purpose, I should admire a man for 
 risking his life ; but I cannot admire him for 
 running the chance of breaking his neck, 
 merely to see a statue ; or to find out wlieth- 
 ar it was the statue of a man or a white
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 193 
 
 stone. I remember, that, when I was at Clif- 
 ton, some years ago, a boy was dashed to pie- 
 ces by falling from a high rock, to which he 
 had climbed, to look for a bird's nest. A few 
 days after this accident happened, I saw an- 
 other boy climb to the same place, in search of 
 the same nest This was folly, not courage.' 
 
 ' It was, indeed,' said Harry. ' But, 
 mother, will you be so kind, to read on ?' 
 
 ' Next comes,' said their mother, ' an ac- 
 count of the traveller's finding, in the wildest 
 part of the mountain, a hut, inhabited by ten 
 or twelve children, who lived there with a 
 dog, who looked more savage than themselves. 
 They took care of a flock of goats, and lived 
 chiefly on the milk of the goats. As soon as 
 a stranger appeared on this part of the moun- 
 tain, the children ran away, and shut them- 
 selves up in their hut, and sent their dog after 
 him a dog he might be called, because he 
 barked, but he was a peculiar and hideous 
 looking creature ' 
 
 ' Is this all, mother,' said Lucy, as her mo- 
 ther stopped, ' all that the man tells about the 
 
 children ? 1 wish he had told more I 
 
 want to know how these children lived togeth- 
 er, and "whether they quarrelled, like those* 
 in ' The Children's Friend,'' who asked their 
 father to let them live by themselves, and gov- 
 ern themselves for one day Only for one 
 
 day ! and what difficulties they got into !' 
 
 * Les enfans qui veulent se gouverner. 
 
 17
 
 194 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Harry, ' but those children made 
 themselves sick, by eating and drinking too 
 much, and they quarrelled because they had 
 nothing to do, but to play all day long : but 
 there was no danger, that these poor children 
 on the mountain should eat too much, for they 
 had scarcely any thing but goats' milk ; and 
 they must have had enough to do, as there 
 was no one to do any thing for them -But, 
 father,' continued Harry, after thinking for a 
 minute, ' I want to know who was king 
 among them, and I want to know what laws 
 they made for themselves, and what punish- 
 ments they had ; for they could not have gone 
 on long without some laws, I am sure.' 
 
 ' Pray, what would have been your laws, 
 Harry ?' said his father ' I give you a week 
 to consider of it you and Lucy may consult 
 
 together Now let us go on with ' The 
 
 Traveller's Wonders' 
 
 ' I do not find any thing else worth reading to 
 you, my dears,' said their mother, ' except an 
 account of the manner in which these moun- 
 taineers are taught to walk in dangerous pla- 
 ces ; and an account of the honesty of the 
 people, in preserving, for the hunters, the 
 game, which belongs to them.' 
 
 ' Ha ! I shall like to hear that ; we must 
 remember honesty, the first thing in our 
 laws,' said Harry. 
 
 ' There are six hunters, who divide among 
 themselves, and among the inhabitants of the 
 mountain, all the game which they kill
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 195 
 
 and, in return, they are fed for nothing in the 
 cottages. They undergo great labor, and go 
 into dangerous places, in pursuit of the goats 
 and cocks of the wood. When these animals 
 are shot, they often roll down from the high- 
 est rocks, to the vallies beneath ; and the 
 peasants, who live in these vallies, when 
 they find these dead birds and beasts, take 
 care of them, and faithfully return them to 
 the hunters. If this was not done, the hun- 
 ters would be obliged to walk many miles, 
 to pick up the game, which they kill. You 
 see, that this honesty is useful to all the 
 people who practise it so is honesty in all 
 cases : therefore, Harry, I think you will do 
 right to remember it first in your laws.' 
 
 ' So I will,' said Harry. ' But now, mother, 
 will you go on to the part, which tells how 
 the people learn to walk in dangerous pla- 
 ces V 
 
 1 1 am afraid it is too late to read any more 
 to-night,' answered his mother looking at 
 her watch. ' Good-night, my dear children 
 We must put off the account of the walk 
 ing, till another time.' 
 
 END OF PART III.
 
 196 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 ' Now for the barometer !' said Harry, as he 
 went into his father's room iri the morning. 
 
 ' Not yet, my dear boy,' said his father ; 
 ' you must know something more, before you 
 can understand the barometer.' 
 
 Harry looked disappointed for a moment ; 
 but, recovering himself, he turned to observe 
 what his father was doing. He was filling the 
 bladder with water, to measure how much it 
 wouW hold : it held five quarts, that is, ten 
 pints. ' If you fill it ever so often, you can- 
 not force more water into that bladder, can 
 you T said his father. 
 
 ' No, certainly not ; for, if we try to put in 
 any more water, it will run over,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Then you find,' said her father, ' that we 
 cannot force the parts of water nearer to each 
 other, as you did those of air water differs 
 from air, in this respect.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Lucy, ' for, when you poured wa- 
 ter upon the bladder, the air withinside took 
 up less room than before ; therefore, the parts 
 of the air must have come nearer together.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 197 
 
 c But perhaps, father,' said Harry, ' if this 
 bladder was strong enough to bear our pressing 
 water into it, we could force more in : if you 
 were to take an iron vessel, and try to force 
 water into it. would it not be possible to 
 squeeze the parts of the water closer together, 
 by pressing down the top of the vessel V 
 
 1 No, my dear,' continued his father ; ' if a 
 vessel had a top, made to screw into its mouth, 
 to fit it exactly ; and if water was poured 
 into the vessel, till it came to the very mouth 
 of it, you could not squeeze the water down 
 by screwing the top on. If you force the cover 
 to screw on, the water will make its way 
 through the screw, till the cover is screwed 
 quite down, or it will burst the vessel.' 
 
 ' Burst the vessel !' cried Lucy ' an iron 
 vessel, father ! Is that possible ? I should 
 
 like to see that experiment But I believe it 
 
 would be dangerous, because when the iron 
 vessel bursts, the bits of it might be thrown 
 against us, and hurt us Father, I remem- 
 ber your giving mother an account of some 
 vessel, that burst, from having too much hot 
 water too much steam, I mean, in it.' 
 
 ' Yes, because heat was added to the water,' 
 said Harry. ' Water, in the tea-kettle, boils 
 over, when it is made very hot ; and I sup- 
 pose, that, if the top of the tea-kettle was 
 screwed down so tight, that no steam could 
 get out, and if the spout was stopped in such 
 a manner that the steam could not come out 
 there, the tea-kettle would burst.'
 
 198 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Yes,' answered his father. 
 
 1 Then there is a way of swelling water by 
 heat ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' It is not the water that swells,' said her 
 father : ' while it continues water, it does not 
 swell ; but, when heat mixes with it, or when 
 it becomes what we call steam, or vapor, 
 then it swells, and takes up a great deal more 
 room than it did before.' 
 
 ' But there was something I was in a great 
 hurry to say,' cried Lucy, ' and now I have 
 forgotten it Talking of the boiling over of 
 the tea-kettle put it out of my head." 
 
 ' You mean the boiling over of the water 
 in the tea-kettle,' said her father. 
 
 ' Yes, father ; but what was I thinking 
 of?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Recollect,' said her father, 'what you were 
 thinking of, just before we spoke of the tea- 
 kettle ; and then, perhaps, you may recollect 
 what you want to remember.' 
 
 ' We were talking of the swelling, or not 
 swelling of water, by heat O, I recollect what 
 it was !' said Lucy ' I know a way, father, of 
 swelling, or expanding water without heat.' 
 
 ' What is that way '?' said Harry. 
 
 ' There is a way, I assure you. brother ; 
 ani you know it, or, at least, you have seen 
 
 it, as well as I Don't you know, that, 
 
 when water is frozen, it swells ?' 
 
 ' How do you know that, sister ?' 
 
 ' I know, that bottles, filled with water, of- 
 ten b'urst, when it freezes,' said Lucy : ' I
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 199 
 
 assure you, I have seen the water bottle in 
 my room broken by the frost.' 
 
 ' That bottle had a very narrow neck,' said 
 Harry ; ' bottles, or jugs, that are as wide at 
 the mouth, or wider than elsewhere, do not 
 burst, when the water withinside of them is 
 frozen the jug in my room never bursts, 
 though the water is often frozen in it.' 
 
 ' What is the reason of that, do you think?' 
 said her father. 
 
 1 Because there is room for the ice to ex- 
 pand,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' But does the ice expand, father ?' said 
 Harry. 
 
 His father answered ' At the moment of 
 freezing, the parts of ice are found to be far- 
 ther from one another, than the parts of the 
 water were.' 
 
 ' Does cold get between the parts of the 
 water ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Harry 'cold is not a thing ; 
 father told us, that it is only a word, that ex- 
 presses want of heat.' 
 
 ' Call it what you will,' said Lucy, 'but still 
 I do not understand. What is it, father, that 
 gets between the parts of the ice, and makes it 
 take up more room at the moment it freezes V 
 
 1 I do not know, my dear,' said her father. 
 
 ' You don't know, father ! I thought you 
 knew every thing.' 
 
 ' No, my dear,' said her father ' There 
 are a great many things of which I know as 
 little as you do It is difficult to know
 
 200 EAKLY LESSONS. 
 
 any thing well. Upon this very subject, of 
 which you were speaking, there are different 
 opinions, and I do not like to tell you any 
 thing, of which I am not sure.' 
 
 ' But, father,' continued Lucy, ' one thing 
 you can tell me, or I can tell you, that ice is 
 the same thing as water, and water is the 
 same thing as ice, is not it so ? except that 
 one is fluid and the other solid.' 
 
 ' Not quite the same water is ice, with 
 heat added to it, and a little air.' 
 
 1 Then I should have thought,' said Lucy, 
 ' that water ought to take up more room than 
 ice.' 
 
 1 Why, my dear ?' 
 
 ' Because water is ice and something more 
 something added to it. We saw, when we 
 heated the bladder, that hot air took up more 
 room than cold air, because it was air, and 
 something added to it ; for the same reason, I 
 should have thought, that, if you add heat to 
 ice, and so turn it into water again, that the wa- 
 ter should take up more room than the ice ; be- 
 cause, I say,' cried Lucy, struggling to explain 
 herself, ' the water is ice, and something more 
 heat is added to it, you know.' 
 
 ' I understand you, my dear,' said her fa- 
 ther, ' and what you say is very reasonable. 
 I should have thought as you do, if I had not 
 seen the experiment tried ; but we find, from 
 experience, that this is not the case. How 
 ever, try the experiment for yourself.' 
 
 ' So I will, father,' cried Lucy. So we will,
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 201 
 
 and this very night too, if it freezes : and I 
 hope it will freeze ; for, though I don't like the 
 cold, I shall like very much to try this experi- 
 ment; and I have a little bottle, and I will fill it 
 with water, put it out of my window, and in the 
 morning I dare say we shall find it burst.' 
 
 1 So it will,' said Harry, ' if the neck is 
 narrow.' 
 
 ' But,' said his father, ' I can give you a 
 bottle with a very wide neck : if you fill this 
 with water, up to the neck, either the bottle 
 will break, or the ice will not only fill the 
 bottle, but will shoot up through the neck of 
 the bottle, like a stopper.' 
 
 ' But what you wanted to try, I thought, 
 was, whether water takes up less room than 
 ice,' said Harry ; ' so, to make the proof quite 
 exact, you should take the very ice, that has 
 been frozen in the bottle, and melt it, that is, 
 put heat to it : and then, when it is water 
 again, try whether it takes up more or less 
 room, or the same, that it did before.' 
 
 ' Remember, you must melt it with a gentle 
 heat, else the heat might evaporate some of 
 the water,' said their father. 
 
 ' We will take care, father,' and we will 
 try all this,' said Lucy. < 1 love trying exper- 
 iments, especially when we do it together, 
 and when you, father, are interested about 
 them, as we go on.' 
 
 ' Yes, and I love to have something to do 
 and something to think of,' said Harry. 
 
 ' And something to feel eager to go to again
 
 202 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the next day,' said Lucy. ' I like to feel cu- 
 rious to know how the thing will turn out.' 
 
 ' Well, now turn out of my way, my dear,' 
 said her father, ' for you are so close to my 
 elbow, that I cannot whet my razor/ 
 
 It happened this day, that Lucy found, in 
 one of her drawers, a number of horse-chest- 
 nuts, which she had collected in the autumn, 
 and which she had intended to plant ; but, 
 having forgotten them, they had lain in this 
 drawer for nearly six weeks, and they had 
 become a little mouldy. Lucy, finding that
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 203 
 
 they were spoilt, threw them into the fire. 
 A few minutes after she had thrown them into 
 the fire, she was startled by hearing a noise, 
 as loud as the noise made by a pop-gun ; and 
 she saw bits of coal, and fire, and chestnut, 
 thrown out on the carpet, to the distance of a 
 yard from the hearth. While she was stoop- 
 ing to pick up these bits, another pop was 
 heard, another chestnut burst, and more bits 
 of coal, on fire, were thrown out, and one of 
 them hit her arm and burnt her a little. No- 
 body was with her She ran into the next 
 room directly, knowing that her father was 
 there, and she called him, and told him what 
 had happened, and asked him what she should 
 do. He went immediately, and took all the 
 chestnuts out of the fire. Harry and his 
 mother came while he was doing this ; they 
 were glad that Lucy was not much hurt, and 
 that no mischief had been done. Her father 
 then explained to her the cause of what had 
 happened ; he told her, that the heat of the 
 fire, mixing with the water in the wet, or 
 mouldy chestnuts, had turned the water in- 
 to steam, which takes up more room than 
 water ; and that the steam, being confined by 
 the outside skin of the chestnuts, had, to 
 make room for itself, burst through that skin, 
 and had caused this sudden explosion. 
 
 After having explained this to Lucy, her fa- 
 ther gave her an account of an accident, which 
 had happened to him, when he was a child. 
 He told her, that he had thought that he could
 
 204 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 make a large lead pencil, such a.s he had seen 
 used for ruling children's copy books; accord- 
 ingly, he put some lead into a fire-shovel, and 
 bid his sister hold it over the fire to melt. In 
 the mean time, he fixed upright a bit of elder 
 tree, out of which part of the pith had been 
 scooped. The wood was not quite dry. When 
 the lead was melted, he took the shovel from 
 his sister, and poured it into the hole, in the 
 piece of elder, from which the pith had been 
 scooped : but, to his great surprise and terror, 
 the melted lead was driven out of the wood 
 with such force, as actually to strike against 
 the cieling. None of the lead struck his face ; 
 but, had he been looking over it, probably 
 his eyes would have been burnt out. 
 
 ' So you see, my dear Lucy,' concluded her 
 father, ' that it is particularly necessary, that 
 children should be careful in trying experi- 
 ments, as they are not acquainted with the na- 
 ture or properties of the things, with which 
 they meddle. When I filled the bit of wet elder 
 wood with hot lead, I did not know, or recol- 
 lect, that the heat of the lead would turn the 
 water into steam, and the expanding suddenly 
 of this steam would cause an explosion.' 
 
 This story brought to Harry's recollection an 
 account, which his mother had read to him, of 
 another accident. Lucy had not been present 
 when this was read, and her brother now ran 
 for the book, and showed her the passage. She 
 began to read and it was as follows : 
 
 ' At the cannon foundery in Moorfields '
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 205 
 
 Lucy stopped at the first line, and said, that 
 she did not know what was meant by a cannon 
 foundery, and she did not know where Moor- 
 fields is. Her father told her, that Moorfields 
 is the name of a part of London ; and that a 
 cannon fonndery is a place, where cannon are 
 made ; a foundery is a place where metals are 
 melted, and cast into different shapes. The 
 word is taken from the French word fondre, 
 to melt. Lucy had seen a cannon ; there- 
 fore now she quite understood this first line of 
 what she was going to read : Harry was 
 rather impatient, at her requiring so long an 
 explanation ; but her father said she was 
 right, not to go on, without understanding 
 completely what she heard. Lucy then 
 read 
 
 ' At the cannon foundery, in Moorfields, hot 
 metal was poured into a mould, that acciden- 
 tally contained a small quantity of water, 
 which was instantly converted into steam, 
 and caused an explosion, that blew the foun- 
 dery to pieces. A similar accident happened 
 at a foundery in Newcastle, which occurred 
 from a little water having insinuated itself 
 into a hollow brass ball, that was thrown into 
 the melting pot.' 
 
 Lucy was astonished to hear, that water, 
 when turned into steam, could have su^h 
 force ; from the facts, which she had just 
 heard and read, she perceived, that it is^ieces- 
 sary to be careful, in trying experiments, and 
 that it is useful to know the properties of
 
 206 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 bodies, that we may avoid hurting either our- 
 selves or other people. 
 
 This evening it was a frost. Harry and 
 Lucy saw, that the quicksilver in the ther- 
 mometer was at the freezing point. They de- 
 termined now to try the experiments, which 
 they wished to try, about ice and water. Their 
 father gave them a wide-necked bottle, and 
 Harry filled it up to the bottom of the neck, 
 leaving the neck empty, but he did not cork it. 
 At the same time, Lucy took a common laven- 
 der-water bottle, that had wide shoulders, and 
 a very narrow neck ; this she also filled up to 
 the bottom of the neck, leaving the neck emp- 
 ty. Harry next filled a common phial bottle 
 up to the mouth, stopped it closely with a 
 cork, and tied the cork down strongly to the 
 neck of the bottle. They hung all these 
 bottles out of doors, on the same place, on the 
 north side of the house. 
 
 Their father went this day to dine with a 
 friend, at some distance from home ; he was 
 not to return till the next day, at dinner time ; 
 so that, the next morning, before breakfast, 
 they missed their accustomed lesson from 
 their father, for which they were sorry. Lucy 
 observed, that her father's room looked dismal 
 without him, and, as there was an unusual 
 silence there, which the children did not like, 
 they went off to the gallery, and comforted 
 themseVes, by making as much noise as 
 possible, galloping up and down the gallery, 
 and playiivgr at hare and hound. It was 

 
 EARLY LESSONS. 207 
 
 snowing, so that they could not go out to 
 look at their bottles, and it continued to 
 snow for some hours, till long after the time, 
 when they had finished the day's lessons 
 with their mother. 
 
 At last the snow ceased ; and, as the sun 
 began to shine, the children were now afraid, 
 that the water in their bottles might, if it had 
 been frozen, be soon thawed, therefore they 
 put on their hats and great coats as fast as they 
 could, and ran out to the wall, on the north 
 side of the house, and to the place where they 
 had hung up their three bottles the preceding 
 day. They found, that the lavender-water 
 bottle, and the bottle that was tightly corked, 
 were broken ; but the bottle with the wide 
 mouth had not been broken. The ice had 
 swelled out through the neck of the bottle, and 
 some way above it, looking like a stopper. 
 This bottle they brought into their mother's 
 dressing room, who put it upon a saucer, in a 
 warm place, and they left it there, that the ice 
 might melt. In the mean time, they went to 
 help their mother to paste some prints into a 
 large paper book. They were longer at this 
 work than they had expected to be ; they had 
 but just finished it, when the dressing-bell 
 rang, they then recollected suddenly their ex- 
 periment, and they said they must go and look 
 whether the ice was melted ; but their handa 
 were now covered with paste, and their 
 mother advised them first to wash their hands 
 and dress themselves, that they might b
 
 208 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 sure to be ready, before their father should 
 come home to dinner. 
 
 Harry and Lucy ran away, saying, 'Which 
 will be dressed first T And in a few minutes 
 they came hurrying from their different rooms, 
 eager to get to their mother's dressing-room. 
 
 'I'm ready ! I was here before you !' cried 
 Harry, bursting in. 
 
 ' Gently, gently, my dear Harry,' said his 
 mother, ' and shut the door after you.' 
 
 ' Lucy's coming in, ma'am Ha ! Lucy, I 
 was here first.' 
 
 ' But I had a great deal more to do, broth- 
 er,' said Lucy. 
 
 Her mother turned and looked at her, as 
 she came into the room, and observed, that 
 Lucy's hair was not combed smoothly, and 
 that one of her shoes was untied 
 
 ' And your hands, Lucy ?' said her mother, 
 1 they are not clean What is all this upon 
 your hands T 
 
 1 Only the paste, ma'am, with which I was 
 pasting those prints ; but I did wash my 
 hands, I assure you, mother.' 
 
 ' Yes } but you did not wash them well, I 
 assure you, daughter so go and wash them 
 again, before you do any thing else ; you 
 must not neglect to keep yourself clean and 
 neat. This pocket-hole of your frock is torn 
 almost from the top to the bottom.' 
 
 1 Yes, mother ; I tore it as I was coming down 
 stairs ; it caught upon a nail in the passage/ 
 
 ' Go and put on another frock, and mend
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 209 
 
 this pocket-hole, before you do any thing 
 else, Lucy,' said her mother : ' It is more 
 necessary, that a girl should be clean and 
 neat, than that she should try experiments.' 
 
 Lucy blushed, and went away to do what 
 her mother desired. 
 
 ' Mother, lam sure it was partly my fault,' 
 said Harry, l because I hurried her too much ; 
 but, to make amends, I know what I will do 
 for her.' 
 
 Then he ran for a pair of pincers, which 
 his father had given to him ; with some little 
 difficulty he took the nail out, on which Lu- 
 cy's gown had been caught ; and, with some 
 little difficulty, Lucy washed the paste off 
 her hands, and mended her gown. 
 
 When they went to look at their experiment, 
 they found that the ice, which they had left 
 in the bottle, was quite melted, and that the 
 water had sunk to the place, where it had 
 been before it was frozen. The top of the 
 water just came to the bottom of the neck of 
 the bottle. So they were convinced that wa- 
 ter takes up less room than ice ; or, in other 
 words, that water, when it is frozen, takes up 
 more room, than it does when it is not 
 frozen. 
 
 When their father came home this day to 
 dinner, Harry and Lucy told him the result, 
 or end, of their experiments ; and they said, 
 that the experiments had turned out, just as 
 he had foretold that they would. Their father 
 said, that he was glad that they had tried the 
 18
 
 210 I-IARKY AND LUCY. 
 
 experiments, and had satisfied themselves oi 
 the truth. 
 
 After dinner, the children ran eagerly for the 
 wide-necked bottle, that they might show 
 their father, that the water was really exactly 
 at the place, where it was before it had been 
 frozen. They had left the bottle on the 
 hearth, in their mother's dressing-room ; and, 
 as they knew exactly the spot where they 
 had left it, they thought they could find it 
 without a candle, especially as they expected 
 that there would be a little glimmering light 
 from the fire in the dressing-room. However 
 the fire, being almost out, they could scarcely 
 see their way. They felt about, near the 
 corner of the chimney, but no bottle was 
 there ; they felt water on the hearth. 
 
 ' O ! our bottle is broken !' exclaimed Lu- 
 cy ' Who has done this V 
 
 1 Are you sure it is broken ? May be it is 
 not,' said Harry ; ' I will open the shutters, 
 and then we shall see by the moonlight.' 
 
 He drew up the curtain, unbarred and open- 
 ed the shutters ; then they saw, alas ! that 
 their bottle was broken. The dog was lying 
 before the fire, and, in taking his customary 
 place, had thrown down the bottle. 
 
 ' O, our dear, dear wide-necked bottle, 
 with which I intended to do so many things !' 
 cried Lucy. 
 
 ' Fie ! fie ! naughty dog ! down ! down, 
 sirrah !' cried Harry, as the dog, now wa-
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 211 
 
 kening, attempted to leap up and caress him 
 Down, sirrah !' 
 
 ' But don't call him sirrah ! Don't be in 
 passion with him,' said Lucy : ' He did not 
 know he did not mean to do us any harm ; 
 it was our fault, for leaving the bottle here, 
 just in his way. Come here, poor fellow,' 
 added she, as the dog was slinking away 
 ashamed. Harry, ashamed too of his anger, 
 joined Lucy in patting him, and both he and 
 his sister were now pleased with themselves, 
 for bearing their disappointment with good 
 humor. The moon shone full on the window, 
 and Harry, as he went to close the shutters 
 again, called Lucy to look at ' the beautiful 
 blue sky, and the glorious number of bright 
 stars in the heavens.' 
 
 Lucy, as she looked and admired them, 
 recollected something she had read, in Sand- 
 ford and Merton, about the names and places 
 of the stars ; the pole star, and Charles's 
 wain, and the great bear, and the little bear. 
 At the time when she had read it, she had 
 not understood it, because she had never ob- 
 served the places of the stars in the sky ; but 
 this night, she and Harry read over that part 
 of Sandford and Merton again ; and, when 
 they looked at the stars, and compared them 
 with the description, they understood it per- 
 fectly. They went on to read the account of 
 the use, which little Sandford made of his 
 knowledge of the stars, when he lost his way
 
 212 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 one night in crossing a great moor, between 
 his father's house and his uncle's. 
 
 Harry and Lucy were glad, that they had 
 found something entertaining to read to them- 
 selves ; because their father and mother were 
 both engaged with their own employments 
 this night, and could not attend to them. 
 While they were reading, Lucy wanted her 
 pencil, to draw for Harry the figure of 
 Charles's wain, and to make the map of the 
 sky, with dots for each star, which Tommy 
 Morton had proposed to make. But Lucy 
 had not her pencil in her pocket ; she had left 
 it in her mother's dressing-room, on the chim- 
 ney-piece, as well as she recollected ; and, 
 when she went to look for the pencil, by the 
 fire light, she saw the pieces of her broken 
 bottle : she had a great mind to put them 
 into the fire, for she knew that glass would 
 melt, if it was put into the fire. She recollect- 
 ed the print of the glass-blower, which she 
 had seen in her Book of Trades, and she 
 wished much to see glass melted. But recol- 
 lecting also at this moment, that she had done 
 mischief, by throwing the chestnuts into the 
 fire, she determined not to throw this glass 
 into the fire, without asking first, whether it 
 would do any harm. So she carried the bro- 
 ken glass carefully to the room where her 
 father and mother were sitting, and she asked, 
 if she might put it into the fire. 
 
 Her father, pleased by her prudence, was 
 so good, as to leave what he was doing, to
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 213 
 
 show Lucy what she wished to see. He put 
 the bits of glass into the hottest part of the 
 fire, and in a few minutes the glass became 
 red-hot. Then he sent Harry to his work- 
 shop for a pair of pincers. Harry knew the 
 names, and shape, and places of all his father's 
 tools ; so he easily found the pincers, and he 
 brought them. Lucy blew the fire, till it be- 
 came of a white heat ; then her father took 
 the thick part of the bottom of the glass out of 
 the fire. It was now melted into a lump, he 
 held it by one end with the hot tongs, and
 
 214 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 desired Harry to take hold of the other end 
 of the glass with the pincers, and to try to 
 pull it out as far as he could. To Lucy's 
 surprise, the glass was now so soft and yield- 
 ing, that Harry pulled it out as easily as he 
 could have pulled out warm sealing-wax ; 
 and he drew out the glass across the little 
 table, at which his mother was sitting. 
 When drawn out, the glass looked like a 
 thin shining thread like what is called spun 
 sugar that is, sugar which has been heat- 
 ed and melted, and drawn out in a similar 
 (or like) manner. 
 
 Harry and Lucy were entertained by seeing 
 this, and they asked several questions about 
 the manner, in which different glass things 
 are made they asked, for instance, how the 
 panes of glass, which they saw in the win- 
 dows are made ; and how looking-glasses are 
 made ; and they wondered how the cut glass, 
 or that which they saw in chandeliers, is 
 made. But their father told them, that they 
 could not possibly learn so many things at 
 once. That perhaps, at some future time, he 
 should have an opportunity of taking them 
 to see a glasshouse, and of showing them 
 how different kinds of glass are made. 
 
 ' To-morrow, father, will you take us ?' 
 said Lucy ; ' or next week ?' 
 
 ' No, neither to-morrow, my dear, nor next 
 week you must not see, nor attempt to 
 learn a variety of things at once, else you will 
 learn nothing well, but will only have a
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 215 
 
 j-urable of things in your head. Now go to 
 bed, my dear children.' 
 
 Then Harry put the pincers into their place, 
 and threw the bits of glass into the fire ; and 
 Lucy put by their books, their pencil and pa- 
 per, and their map of the stars ; they were 
 careful to put all these things into their places, 
 because their mother had advised them not to 
 make it troublesome or inconvenient to show 
 them experiments, or to let them amuse them- 
 selves in the same room with her and with 
 their father. 
 
 ' Now we have put all our things into their 
 places, mother,' said Lucy ; and, after we 
 have gone to bed, you will not have the trouble 
 of doing that for us Good night. You will 
 like, that we should try experiments another 
 time, I hope, mother, because we have not 
 been troublesome.' 
 
 In the morning, Harry and Lucy went to 
 their father's room ; and Harry observed that 
 they had lost a day by their father's not be- 
 ing at home. .'So now,' added he, l we must 
 make up for it, and get on to the barometer.' 
 
 Lucy was, at this instant, mixing up the 
 lather for her father, who was going to shave. 
 She took a tobacco-pipe and blew a bubble 
 into the air ; and when it burst, she said 
 
 ' Do, Harry, let me ask one more question 
 about a bubble. Father, when a bubble bursts,
 
 216 HARKY AND LUCY. 
 
 does the air, which was withinside of it, stay 
 where it was or what becomes of it V 
 
 1 1 believe that it does not stay exactly in 
 the same place where it was,' said her father ; 
 ' it spreads, and mixes with the rest of the air 
 in the room. It is supposed, that, when there 
 is less air in one place than in another, the 
 air, which is collected in the place which 
 contains the most of it, rushes into that which 
 contains the least of it.' 
 
 ' But what makes some places fuller of air 
 than others ?' said Lucy. 
 
 Her father said, that he did not know ; but 
 he reminded Lucy, that air can be squeezed 
 into a smaller space, than it usually occupies. 
 
 ' Why it occupies the whole world, does it 
 not ?' said Harry. 
 
 ' No, brother, not the whole world, you 
 know ; for stones, and trees, and animals, 
 have places in the world ; but the air is all 
 round us, and is in every place where there 
 is nothing else.' 
 
 1 That is true, or nearly true, Lucy,' said 
 her father. ' Harry, do you know any other 
 name, by which people sometimes call the 
 air, that is all round us ?' 
 
 Harry said, that he did not recollect any 
 other name for it ; but Lucy said that she 
 believed the air round us is sometimes called 
 the atmosphere ; and she said she had heard 
 people speak of the pressure of the atmos- 
 phere, but that she did not clearly understand 
 what they meant.
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 217 
 
 ' Take this hand fire-screen, my dear,' said 
 her father ; ' move it upwards and down- 
 wards, and backwards and forwards. What 
 do you feel ?' 
 
 ' I feel, that I cannot move it quickly,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 ' What prevents you ? Let Harry answer.' 
 
 ' I believe it is the wind,' said Harry. 
 
 ' There is no wind in the room,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' But when you move the screen backwards 
 and forwards, I feel a wind,' said Harry. 
 
 ' It is the moving the screen, which puts the 
 air in the room in motion. You will feel the 
 air, or atmosphere, in any part of the room, if 
 you move against it,' said his father. ' Take 
 this little parasol, open it half do not fasten 
 it up ; now run with it against the air, hold- 
 ing the outside of the parasol from you.' 
 
 Harry did so, and found, that, as he ran, 
 the parasol was closed by the air in the room, 
 against which he pressed. Then his father 
 bid him stand on a chair, and let the parasol 
 fall when it was shut ; and it fell quickly. 
 He then opened it ; and when it was open, 
 Harry let it fall from the same height. It 
 now fell very gently, and Harry perceived 
 that it fell slowly ; because, when it was 
 open, it was resisted by the air underneath it 
 in falling : he also observed, that the parasol, 
 as it fell, made a wind, as he said. 
 
 His father then cut out of a card the shape 
 of a wheel ; and he cut the card in several 
 places, from the outside, or circumference, 
 19
 
 218 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 towards the centre, and he turned these bits 
 of cards sloping, so as to make a little wind- 
 mill : he put a large pin through the centre 
 of it, and stuck this pin into the uncut end of 
 a pencil, so as to make a handle. Then he 
 blew against it ; and when he found that he 
 could blow it round steadily, he gave it to 
 Lucy, and, opening the window, desired her 
 to hold it against the air at the open window, 
 which, rushing in suddenly, turned the little 
 windmill. Then he shut the window, and 
 bid Lucy run with the windmill, as fast as 
 she could, from one end of the room to the 
 other, holding it in such a manner, that it 
 might press against the air as she ran. She 
 did so, and the windmill turned quickly ; 
 then she and Harry perceived, that the forcing 
 and pressing against the air made the wind- 
 mill turn round in the same manner, as it had 
 done when the wind blew against it. 
 
 ' Harry,' said his father, ' take these bel- 
 lows, blow the fire with them. What comes 
 out of the nose, or nozzle of the bellows, as it 
 is called?' 
 
 ' Air or wind,' said Harry. 
 
 ' What makes that wind V 
 
 1 My blowing the bellows,' said Harry. 
 
 1 What do you mean by blowing the bel- 
 lows ?' 
 
 ' Making the bellows blow,' said Harry 
 
 ' But how do you make the bellows blow ?' 
 
 ' By pulling up the top of the bellows, and 
 shutting it down,' said Harry.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 219 
 
 : Very true,' said his father ; { that opens 
 the bellows, and makes room for air to go into 
 them/ 
 
 ' The air,' said Harry, ' goes in at the large 
 hole in the bottom of the bellows.' 
 
 ' It does so,' said his father, and some goes 
 in at the pipe, or nose : but what hindeis the 
 air from going out of the large hole in the 
 bottom, where it went in ?' 
 
 Harry said, ' There is a little flap, or door, 
 that shuts down, when I blow the bellows.' 
 
 ' That little door,' said his father, ' or valve, 
 as it is called, falls down by its own weight, 
 when you blow the bellows, and it shuts that 
 hole ; and the air, which is then in the bellows, 
 goes out at the pipe into the fire. If 1 were 
 to paste a piece of paper over the hole, in the 
 bottom of the bellows, what would happen V 
 
 I The air,' said Harry, ' would come into 
 the bellows at the nose, when I lift up the 
 top, and would go out again at the nose, when 
 I shut the bellows.' 
 
 ' Then,' asked his father, what is the use 
 of the hole, at the bottom of the valve T 
 
 I 1 believe,' answered Harry, ' it is to let 
 the air in more quickly, and more readily.' 
 
 ( It is so,' said his father : ' I will paste a 
 piece of paper over the hole, in the bottom of 
 the bellows, and, when it is dry, to-morrow, 
 we will see what will happen. Now let me 
 finish dressing myself.'
 
 220 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 This day was very cold, and the fire in the 
 breakfast room did not burn so well as usual. 
 Harry's father, who was a man able to do 
 things with his own hands, went for some dry 
 wood, which he sawed into pieces of a certain 
 length, convenient for putting on the fire. 
 Harry could saw very well, and he assisted 
 his father ; Lucy stood by, and she asked 
 him to let her try to saw. At first, Lucy 
 could scarcely move the saw ; it seemed to 
 stick in the wood, and she said she wondered 
 how Harry could do it so easily. Harry 
 showed her how to move the saw, and guided 
 her hand at first ; and, after a little practice, 
 with some little patience, she got on pretty 
 well. After she had sawed the branch in 
 two, her father split it down the middle, with 
 a cleaver, or a little hatchet. He did not 
 allow the children yet to meddle with the 
 hatchet, lest they should cut themselves, as it 
 requires some skill, care, and practice, to be 
 able to manage a hatchet well. 
 
 Harry and Lucy wished that they might 
 saw wood every day for the fire. They said 
 that it would be pleasant work ; and that it 
 would warm them so well, and that it would 
 b3 so useful ! and they begged their father 
 would lend them a saw, and give them wood 
 to saw, and a block, or a horse, to saw upon. 
 
 Their father answered : ' My dears, do you 
 think that I have nothing to do, but to get you 
 every thing you want ? T am afraid, that, if 
 I were to take the trouble to provide you with
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 221 
 
 these things, you would soon grow tired, and, 
 perhaps, after sawing half a dozen bits of 
 wood to-day and to-morrow, you would throw 
 aside, and forget it ; as I have sometimes seen 
 you throw aside, and forget, or break toys, 
 which delighted you the first hour or day 
 you possessed them.' 
 
 ' Break ! O, father ! my dear father !' cried 
 Lucy, ' that was only the foolish toy that lady 
 gave me, of which I could not make any use, 
 nor any diversion in the least ; after I had once 
 looked at it, there was an end of it. I could 
 not move the wooden woman's arms, nor do 
 any thing with her, so I forgot her and left her 
 on the floor, and the footman, by accident, put 
 his foot upon her, when he was bringing in 
 coats. But indeed, father, 1 never break nor 
 forget my playthings, if I can play with them. 
 There's my cart ! I have had it a year, a 
 whole year : And there's my hoop my bat- 
 tledores and shuttlecock my jack straws, my 
 cup and ball and my ivory alphabet.' 
 
 ' And there's my cart, and my pump, and 
 my bricks, and my top, and our dissected 
 maps,' cried Harry, ' I am never tired of them, 
 I know. And there is no danger, father, that 
 we should grow tired of a saw, if you will only 
 be so good as to give us one ; because it will 
 always give us something to do, and, as Lucy 
 says, we grow tired only of things that we 
 cannot make any use of. Pray, father, try us.' 
 
 Their father was so kind, as to grant their 
 request ; he lent them a saw, and a ho?-se, that
 
 222 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 held the wood which they wanted to saw ; 
 and he allowed them to work in a little room, 
 on one side of the hall, where there was no 
 furniture, but which had been used as a sort of 
 lumber room. Here was kept a provision of 
 wood for the winter, and there was plenty of 
 branches, which the children could saw ; their 
 father told them to saw these into pieces of 
 about a foot or eighteen inches long ; and he 
 said, that when they were sawed into these 
 pieces, he would have them split. 
 
 ' Father !' cried Harry, ' let us do it all our- 
 selves. I can split them, I assure you ; and 
 we will take care not to cut ourselves, if you 
 will lend us the little hatchet. Now, father, 
 I will show you how well I can use the 
 hatchet. Lucy may saw, and I will split.' 
 
 Their father however would not lend them 
 the hatchet yet. He told them, that, if they 
 sawed only small branches, such as he would 
 give them, these need not be split asunder af- 
 terwards. They sawed this morning wood 
 enough for the evening's fire. This evening 
 they enjoyed the first fire made with wood of 
 their own sawing the first fire acquired by 
 the labor of their own hands. 
 
 ' Did you ever see such a delightful blaze 
 in your life, mother ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Father,' said Harry, ' this fire has warmed 
 us twice I mean, the sawing the wood wann- 
 ed us, while we were at work ; and now it 
 warms us again whilst it is burning. Mother, 
 would you be so good to begin to read about
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 223 
 
 the way of walking in dangerous places, now 
 Lucy and I are sitting so comfortable at your 
 feet, and the fire is blazing so finely ?' 
 
 Their kind mother smiled, and she began 
 to read as follows : 
 
 ' In the neighborhood of Mount Pilate, there 
 are people who give lessons in the art of 
 walking, as regularly as lessons in dancing 
 are given elsewhere. It is of the greatest im- 
 portance, in certain dangerous places, to know 
 which foot to make use of, or which hand to 
 use, to preserve the balance of the body ; and 
 when you are to step on sharp pointed rocks, 
 you must be sure when you are to put down 
 your heel or your toe first ; for want of in- 
 struction, or for want of attending to these 
 instructions, you might fall down a precipice, 
 or be obliged to remain in a painful attitude, 
 without daring to go forwards or backwards. 
 
 ' The shoes usually worn on these moun- 
 tains are merely soles of thin light wood, tied 
 on the foot with leather straps. There are 
 iron horse-shoe nails, at the bottom of the 
 soles, which stand out from the sole near half 
 an inch. The mountain climber depends chief- 
 ly on his stick, or pole. This pole must be 
 light and pliable, and yet strong enough to 
 bear the weight of a man, if it should happen, 
 as it sometimes does, that the pole is stretched 
 from one point of a rock to another, over the 
 man's head, while he clings, with both hands to 
 lt,as he passes beneath. The point of the pole 
 h> armed with iron at least two inches long.
 
 224 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 * When a man wants to go down a steep 
 descent, he does not set out with his face 
 turned towards the bottom of the hill, because 
 his whole body would be out of a perpendicu- 
 lar line ' 
 
 ' Out of a perpendicular line !' interrupted 
 Lucy ' Mother, I am not clear about per- 
 pendicular and horizontal ' 
 
 ' No !' cried Harry, starting up ; ' then, my 
 dear Lucy, I will make you clear about them 
 in an instant, and for ever. Look,' cried he, 
 as he stood bolt upright, ' now I am perpen- 
 dicular ; and now,' continued he, throwing 
 himself flat down on the carpet, ' now I am 
 horizontal.' 
 
 ' Thank you. Now, mother, I shall un- 
 derstand it.' 
 
 ' The man's whole body would be out of a 
 perpendicular line, so that, when he advanced 
 three or four steps, as the hill becomes steeper, 
 he would fall forward ; therefore, the man 
 turns his side toward the bottom of the hill. 
 In this position, he has one foot higher than 
 the other ; if his left side is toward the bottom 
 of the hill, his right foot must stand highest ; 
 this must be observed, that you may under- 
 stand the manner in which he then makes use 
 of his stick. He holds it sloping with both his 
 hands, one of its points resting against the 
 ground ; and this point must be above the 
 place where his highest foot stands. The right 
 hand must be at the bottom of the stick, and 
 the left is at the middle of it. In this attitude
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 225 
 
 the man leans on the stick, with which he 
 rakes or scrapes away the ground, as he de- 
 scends the hill. You may imagine with what 
 swiftness he goes, and without the least dan- 
 ger ; because his body, leaning on the stick, 
 and approaching the ground, there is no dan- 
 ger of falling. If, by chance, the man's feet 
 were to slip, the weight of his body leaning 
 on the stick, it is necessary only to slide the 
 left hand, which was in the middle, towards 
 the bottom of the stick. Then it is impossi- 
 ble, that the man should slip far ; because the 
 stick, becoming almost perpendicular, and be- 
 ing grasped near the bottom by both his 
 hands, it catches against the least obstacle or 
 hollow in the ground ; and this is sufficient to 
 stop the man from sliding further downwards. 
 
 ' In places where there are a great number 
 of loose pebbles, as the most skilful walker 
 might slide down along with the loose pebbles, 
 two or three walkers join, and agree to go to- 
 gether ; they provide themselves with a long 
 pole, which they all hold with one hand ; by 
 these means, if one slips, the others hold him 
 up. If all the party slip, which may chance 
 to happen, he, who first quits his hold of the 
 pole, is punished in whatever way the others 
 think proper.' 
 
 ' My dear little Lucy,' said her mother, put- 
 ting down the book, and looking at Lucy, 
 whose eyes were closed, and whose head was 
 nodding 
 
 ' My dear little girl, you are just asleep.'
 
 220 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Aileep ! O no, mother, I am not asleep 
 at all,' cried Lucy, rousing herself. 
 
 ' My dear, there is nothing shameful in be- 
 ing sleepy, especially at the hour, when it is 
 time for you to go to bed. Only do not let me 
 read to you, when you are sleepy, because 
 you cannot possibly attend to what is read ; 
 and you would get the habit of hearing my 
 voice going on, without minding or under- 
 standing what I say.' 
 
 ' O, mother ! I beg your pardon : I assure 
 you I heard the last words you read it was 
 something about punished as they thought 
 proper ; but I believe, mother, I was sleeping 
 a little, too, for those words joined somehow 
 with my dream, and I was dreaming about a 
 saw, and sawing wood ; and I thought, that, 
 as I was sawing, I slipped, and saw, and 
 wood, and horse and all, slipped, and were 
 sliding down a hill ; and just then I heard 
 the words punished as they thought proper.' 
 
 ' I know the reason she is so shockingly 
 sleepy,' cried Harry ; ' it is because she work- 
 ed so hard this morning, sawing ; and she is 
 not so strong, you know, as I am.' 
 
 ' There is nothing shocking,' said his father, 
 laughing ' there is nothing shocking in your 
 sister's being sleepy. Good night, Lucy, my 
 dear, go to bed. Good night, Harry.' 
 
 ' No, father, not good night to me pray I 
 am not at all sleepy. I was thinking how 1 
 should like to live on that mountain, and slide 
 down, with my pole in my hand, and learn
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 227 
 
 to walk in dangerous places. But here there 
 are no precipices, father ; and I cannot learn 
 to walk, as they do on Mount Pilate.' 
 
 ' This is a lamentable case indeed, Harry,' 
 said his father ; i but, if you are so exceedingly 
 anxious to learn to walk among precipices, I 
 can tell you how a celebrated traveller says, 
 that you may learn to do it, even in this flat 
 country.' 
 
 ' Can you, father ? O, pray do tell me.' 
 
 ' Shut your eyes, and imagine yourself 
 among precipices, and walk on ; and M. de 
 Saussure says, you may accustom yourself so 
 to the idea of danger, that you would be much 
 less terrified afterwards, if you were among 
 real precipices, than another person would, 
 who had never pursued this method.' 
 
 ' Is this true, father ?' 
 
 ' I do not know, for I have never tried it. 
 But I should think, that you might practise 
 walking over a narrow plank, that was raised 
 a foot from the ground, and, if you learn to 
 balance your body, and walk well upon that, 
 if you were not afraid, you would be better 
 able to walk steadily over any narrow bridge, 
 where there was a precipice, or water beneath.' 
 
 ' So I could,' said Harry; ' and I will try 
 this experiment to-morrow. There is a long 
 ladder, lying on the grass before the door, and 
 I will walk on one side of the ladder, and 
 Lucy on the other (for I suppose she will not 
 be asleep to-morrow,) and we shall see who
 
 228 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 slips first. Good night, mother good night, 
 father and thank you.' 
 
 Lucy was quite rested and refreshed, when 
 she wakened the next morning ; and she 
 went into her father's room, with her brother, 
 at the usual hour. 
 
 The paper; which had been pasted over the 
 hole in the bellows, was now dry ; and Harry 
 found, that, when he lifted up the top, the air 
 came into the bellows at the nose ; but it did 
 not come in so readily, as when the hole in 
 the bottom was open. Harry's father now 
 put a peg into the nose of the bellows, and de- 
 sired Harry to blow. Harry, with great diffi- 
 culty, lifted up the top of the bellows slowly. 
 He knew, that this difficulty was occasioned 
 by the shutting up the opening at the valve 
 of the bellows and at the nose ; and he asked 
 his father, how any air could now get in. 
 
 His father told him, that bellows cannot be 
 so well made, as to hinder the air from forc- 
 ing its way into them, at the place where the 
 nose is fastened to the leather ; and that, be- 
 sides this, the air gets in between the leather 
 and the wood. 
 
 ' I see, father, the paper, which you pasted 
 over the hole in the bellows, sinks inwards,' 
 said Harry, ' when you lift the top, and swells 
 outwards, when you shut it down.' 
 
 1 It does so, my dear ; and, if the other parts 
 of the bellows were air-tight (as it is called,)
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 229 
 
 the paper would be broken inwards, when I 
 pull up the bellows.' 
 
 ' I suppose, father, if it was not such strong 
 paper, it would break now, when you lift it 
 up suddenly.' 
 
 It would, my dear : I will wet the paper, 
 which will make it softer, and more fragile.' 
 
 i What is fragile, father ?' 
 
 ' That which can be easily broken, Harry.' 
 
 ' Now you see, that lifting the top quickly 
 has burst the paper.' 
 
 ' Yes, father, I see that the air, endeavoring 
 to rush in, has broken the paper ; the edges 
 of it are all blown inwards.' 
 
 ' You perceive then, Harry, that the air, 
 which is in the room and every where else, 
 is always forcing itself into any empty space ; 
 and that, if it cannot force its way immedi- 
 ately, it drives any thing before it, which it 
 can move, into that space.' 
 
 ' But I want to know,' said Harry, ' what 
 makes the parts of air fly from each other ?' 
 
 His father answered, that he did not know ; 
 'butldo know,' saidhe, 'that, if heat be added 
 to air, the parts of the air separate from each 
 other to a greater distance, and with greater 
 force, than when they are colder. ' Now, Har- 
 ry,' continued he, ' I will close the valve, or 
 door, of the bellows, and if we were to put the 
 end of the bellows into this bowl of water, 
 and, if we were to open the bellows, what 
 
 would happen V ' The water would go 
 
 into the bellows,' said Harry.
 
 230 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Why should it go in ?' said his father ; ' the 
 parts of water, you know, do not fly from each 
 other, in all directions, like those of air. If 
 the bellows were lower than the bowl, the wa- 
 ter might fall down into them ; but you see, 
 that the bellows are higher than the water.' 
 
 ' I do not think,' said Harry, ' that the wa- 
 ter would move itself into the bellows ; it is the 
 air, on the outside of the water, which would 
 rush into the bellows, if the water were not in 
 the way ; the air drives the water before it 
 into the empty part of the bellows.' 
 
 Harry's father then took a tumbler in his 
 hand, and filled it with water, and said ' If 
 this tumbler, that is full of water, be emptied of 
 the water, the air, that is in the room, will en- 
 ter into the tumbler, whether it be held in any 
 part of the room, upwards, or downwards, or 
 sideways.' He emptied the tumbler. ' Now,' 
 continued he, ' the air fills the space in the 
 tumbler, which the water did fill ; and, which- 
 ever way I hold the mouth of the glass, wheth- 
 er upwards or downwards, to this side or to 
 that, the air would go into it, and fill it.' 
 
 ' So it is full of air, at this very moment, is 
 it?' said Lucy. ' But how can you be sure of 
 that, father ! because we cannot see the air.' 
 
 ' No ; but we can feel it,' said Harry. ' Wet 
 your finger, and put it into the tumbler, and 
 move it about quickly, and you will feel the 
 
 air. 1 hope you are satisfied now,' added 
 
 he, laughing, as Lucy gravely put her finger 
 into the tumbler, and said, seriously,
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 231 
 
 1 Yes, I am satisfied now.' 
 
 ' That is right, Lucy,' said her father ; 
 ' take nothing for granted. Now observe what 
 happens, when I put this tumbler, with its 
 mouth downwards into the water, in this ba- 
 sin. Does the water withinside of the tum- 
 bler rise higher than the water on the outside 
 of it, or does it not rise so high ?' 
 
 ' It does not rise quite so high,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' What do you think is in that space, which 
 you see above the water in the tumbler ?' 
 
 Lucy, at first, hastily answered, that there 
 was nothing ; but, recollecting herself, she said 
 there was air ; and she just said the word air 
 at the same moment when Harry said it. 
 
 ' And now suppose, that I could take away 
 that air, which is in the glass, immediately 
 over the water What do you think would 
 happen when that air was taken away ?' 
 
 Lucy said, that she did not think that any 
 thing would happen. 
 
 Harry said, that he thought, that the water 
 would rise in the glass, and fill the place, 
 which the air had filled. 
 
 ' Very right, Harry,' said his father it 
 would.' 
 
 ' O ! to be sure, so it would,' said Lucy ; 
 ' but I did not say that, because I was think- 
 ing you meant quite a different sort of thing, 
 father When you said what would HAPPEN ? 
 I thought you meant to ask, if any accident 
 would happen if the glass would be broken 
 suddenly, or something of that sort O ! to be
 
 232 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 sure, I know the water would rise in the 
 glass.' 
 
 ' And do you know, Lucy, why it would rise 
 in the glass, or what would make it rise T 
 
 Lucy could not tell ; all she could say was, 
 that the water would rise, because there was 
 room for it to rise ; but her brother said he be- 
 lieved, that the air in the room, the air that was 
 all over the water in this basin, in which the 
 tumbler is turned down, would press upon 
 that water, and, by pressing it so, would force 
 it up into the glass, if there was no air, or any 
 thing else in the glass, to prevent the water 
 from rising. 
 
 His father, without telling Harry whether 
 he was right or wrong, said, that he would 
 try this for him. 
 
 But just then their mother came in, and told 
 their father, that breakfast had been ready 
 some time ; and she was afraid, that, if he did 
 not come soon, the muffins would be quite cold. 
 Immediately, their father made a great deal of 
 haste to get ready Harry smiled, and said 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! see what haste father makes, 
 now he knows the muffins are come ! he 
 loves muffins, I see, as well as I do !' 
 
 ' I dare say he loves muffins, and so do I,' 
 said Lucy ; ' but I know, Harry, it is not all foi 
 the sake of the muffins, that he is making this 
 wonderful haste there's another reason.' 
 
 ' What other reason T said Harry. 
 
 ' Because,' whispered Lucy, 'he loves moth- 
 er, as well as muffins, ' and he does not like
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 233 
 
 to keep her waiting for breakfast always ; 
 particularly when she is so good, you know, 
 and is never angry.' 
 
 ' I wonder whether you will be as good, 
 when you grow up,' said Harry, laughing 
 'No, no ; I dare say, you will frown, this way, 
 at your husband, and say, ' I wonder, Mr. 
 Slow, you are never ready for breakfast !' 
 
 ' Now, father ! this morning,' said Harry, { 1 
 hope we are to see the experiment, which you 
 were going to show us yesterday, just when 
 mother and the muffins came. You know, 
 father, that you asked us what would happen, 
 if you could take away all the air, that is in 
 this tumbler, between the top of the water 
 and the glass, and Lucy said nothing- would 
 happen ; but she was wrong.' 
 
 ' Only at first ; brother ; I was only wrong at 
 first, when I did not understand father's ques- 
 tion ; afterwards, you know, I was as right 
 as you were, for I said the water would rise 
 up higher in the glass, to be sure.' 
 
 ' Yes, but then you did not know the rea- 
 son why it would rise, and I did ; for when 
 father asked me, I said, that the air in the 
 room, the air, that is all over the water in this 
 basin, in which the tumbler is turned down, 
 would press upon that water, and force it up 
 into the glass, if there was iu air left in the 
 glass, to hinder it.' 
 20
 
 234 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' Well, I know that,' said Lucy, ' as well as 
 you.' 
 
 ' Yes, when I tell it you,' cried Harry ; 'but I 
 said it at first ; I was right from the beginning.' 
 
 ' Come, come, my dear children, no boasting, 
 Harry no disputing, Lucy ; and tfyen you 
 will both be right. What signifies, which of 
 you said it first, if you both know it at last '? 
 Now, Harry, turn your attention to this, and 
 you, Lucy : I am going to try an experiment, 
 that will prove to you whether the water will 
 or will not rise in the glass, when some of the 
 air above it is taken away.' 
 
 ' But I can't imagine, father,' said Harry, 
 ' how you will contrive to get all that air out 
 of the glass.' 
 
 ' I cannot easily get all the air out of the 
 glass I cannot easily produce what is called 
 a perfect vacuum, that is, a place where there 
 is nothing, no air, nor any thing else ; but, 
 though I cannot produce a vacuum in the top 
 of this glass, by taking away all the air, I can 
 easily take away some of it.' 
 
 ' How, father?' said Harry and Lucy at once 
 Their father answered, ' You shall see ?' 
 
 Then he went for a crooked, or bent tube of 
 glass it was nearly in the shape of a capital 
 U He told Harry, that tubes of this sort are 
 called syphons. He put one leg of this tube 
 under the bottom of the tumbler, up through 
 the water in the tumbler, into the place which 
 appeared empty. 
 
 He now bid Harry suck at the other end ol
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 235 
 
 the syphon Harry did so ; and as fast as he 
 sucked, the water rose in the tumbler ; but, 
 when Harry took away his mouth, the water 
 fell again. 
 
 ' Why does this happen, Harry ?' 
 
 ' It happens, I believe, father, because, 
 when I sucked, I took away the air, that was 
 above the water in the tumbler ; and when I 
 left off sucking, and took my mouth away, 
 the air went again through the syphon into 
 the tumbler above the water.' 
 
 ' Just so, Harry. Now the same thing would 
 happen if I could take away the air, or lessen 
 it, by any means, in the tumbler. If I could 
 fill, or partly fill, the tumbler, with any thing 
 that could be taken away from beneath the 
 tumbler, while it stands in the water that is in 
 the basin, then we should see the water rise 
 in the tumbler, in the same manner as if the 
 
 air were sucked out of it What shall we 
 
 put into it that we can readily take out, with- 
 out disturbing the tumbler ?' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Harry. 
 
 ' Here,' said his father, ' is a little spool, or 
 roller, upon which silk is usually wound 
 Now I will put this into a little frame of tin, that 
 will support it under the glass tumbler above 
 the water. Upon this, I have wound some 
 very broad tape so as to fill up a large space 
 in the tumbler : I pull one end of the tape un- 
 der the bottom of the tumbler, through the 
 water that is in the saucer, so that I can un- 
 wind the whole of the tape without disturbing
 
 236 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the tumbler. You see, that the water rises in 
 the tumbler, as I unwind, and draw out the 
 tape ; and, now that all is drawn out, the 
 water has filled as much of the tumbler as 
 had before been filled by the tape.' 
 
 ' That is very pretty,' said Harry ; ' I un- 
 derstand it. When the tape was taken away, 
 the room, that it filled would have been sup- 
 plied with air, if air could have got into the 
 tumbler; but, as it could not get in, it forced the 
 water in the basin to go up into the tumbler.' 
 
 ' Now I will show you, my dear children, 
 another method of trying this experiment. I 
 make a little stand of halfpence under the 
 tumbler, upon which I can put a piece of pa- 
 per, without its being wet by the water in the 
 basin I set fire to the paper ; and whilst it 
 is flaming, I put the tumbler quickly over the 
 flame into the water now you see the flame 
 goes out and the water rises.' 
 
 ' Yes, father ; I suppose the flame burns 
 out some of the air.' 
 
 ' It does, Harry, consume a little of the air 
 in the tumbler ; but that is not the cause why 
 so much water rises. You saw, that the flame 
 took up a considerable quantity of room in 
 the tumbler while it was burning ; but, the 
 moment that the glass covered the flame it 
 went out : and then the room, which the 
 flame took up, was supplied by the water, 
 rising from the saucer.' 
 
 ' Yes, father, the water was driven in by 
 the air, that wanted to get into the tumbler.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 237 
 
 Just so, Harry. Now, instead of putting a 
 piece of lighted paper upon the little stand oi 
 halfpence, I put a piece of tow, dipped in tur- 
 pentine upon it ; this, you see, makes a larger 
 flame ; and, when this is extinguished, or put 
 out, by placing the glass quickly over it, 
 more water rises than in the former experi- 
 ment : and, if I were to dip the tow into spi- 
 rit of wine, and light it, it would answer the 
 same purpose as tow dipped in turpentine.' 
 
 Their father warned the children against 
 the danger of having more than a very small 
 quantity of turpentine or spirit of wine brought 
 near to the candle or to the fire, as it might 
 easily catch fire, and set fire to their clothes, 
 or to the furniture in the room. ' All experi- 
 ments in which fire is necessary,' their father 
 said, ' children should never attempt to try, 
 when they are in a room by themselves. 
 Some grown-up person should always be pres- 
 ent, to prevent accidents, or to assist, if any 
 accident should happen.' 
 
 The children both promised their father, 
 that they would take care never to meddle 
 with fire when he or their mother was not 
 present, or to try any dangerous experiments. 
 
 Harry then turned again to look at the 
 tumbler, and repeated, that it was really very 
 pretty, to see the water rise in the tumbler, 
 pressed up by the air, that was over the wa- 
 ter in the basin. Harry seemed still doubtful 
 whether Lucy understood it. 
 
 ' You see, Lucy, the air presses this watei
 
 238 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 first, and that presses it up into the tumbler.' 
 Yes, I understand it perfectly,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' But, Harry,' said his father, 'you say that 
 ihe air presses the water in the basin, up in 
 the glass tumbler. What do you think would 
 happen, if there was no water in the basin ?' 
 
 ' I believe the water would run out of the 
 tumbler,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' So it would,' said her father, ' unless the 
 bottom of the glass was ground quite smooth, 
 and the basin also ground quite smooth.' 
 
 ' And what would happen, if the basin and 
 tumbler were ground quite smooth?'saidHarry. 
 
 1 Then,' replied his father, ' if you lifted up 
 the tumbler, the basin would come up with it 
 from the table, and seem to stick to it.' 
 
 ' I should like very much to see that experi- 
 ment,' said Lucy ; 'but we have no glass ves- 
 sel nor basin ground smooth enough, I believe.' 
 
 ' No ; but I can show you an experiment 
 equally satisfactory, without them,' said their 
 father. 
 
 ' I fill this ale glass with water, and I cover 
 it with a card, having first wetted the side of 
 the card, which is next to the glass I now 
 put the palm of my hand on the card, and I 
 turn the glass upside down on the card, which 
 lies on my hand. You now see, that, though 
 I have taken away my hand, the card sticks 
 to the glass.' 
 
 ' That is very pretty !' cried Lucy. 
 
 1 But why does not the water fall out?' said 
 Harry.
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 239 
 
 ' Because the card keeps it in,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Why does it keeps it in ?' said Harry. 
 
 ' Because the card sticks to the glass,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 ' And what makes it stick to the glass ?' 
 said Harry. 
 
 Lucy did not answer immediately ; but her 
 father asked Harry if he knew. 
 
 Harry said it did not stick to the glass ; 
 but it is held close against the glass by the 
 pressure of the air that is- in the room.' 
 
 1 That is quite right,' said his father ; ' by 
 the pressure of the atmosphere. I am glad, 
 Harry, that you know, that the air presses 
 upwards, as well as downwards, and side- 
 ways, and in all directions.'
 
 240 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Father,' said Lucy, ' will you be so good, 
 as to try that experiment again V 
 
 ' Here you see the card remains close to 
 the bottom of the glass,' said their father. 
 
 ' But, father, the glass is not full,' said Lucy. 
 
 'Yes, it is full,' said Harry; ' though it is not 
 quite full of water, it is full of water and air.' 
 
 ' I left it so on purpose,' said his father. 
 
 ' Now I will hold it to the fire, and you 
 will see what will happen.' 
 
 In less than half a minute, they saw the 
 card drop off, and the water fall on the hearth. 
 
 ' What is the cause of that?' said his father. 
 
 ' The heat of the fire swells, or expands the 
 air that is in the glass over the water, and for- 
 ces it and the card downwards,' said Harry. 
 
 'There was also a little steam formed,' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 ' There was,' said her father. ' Now let us 
 take care, and not be late at breakfast this 
 morning. 
 
 The children went to tell their mother of 
 this last experiment, which pleased them par- 
 ticularly. 
 
 As soon as Harry and Lucy had finished 
 their lessons this day, they went into what they 
 now called ' their wood-room? and sawed the 
 provision of wood for the evening fire ; and, 
 this day, Harry's father lent him a little 
 hatchet, for a few minutes, while he stood by, 
 to see whether Harry would be able to use it, 
 without hurting himself. Harry split half a
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 241 
 
 dozen billets of wood, and begged, that, as he 
 had done no mischief to himself or to any 
 body, or any thing else, he might have the 
 hatchet the next day, to split the wood in the 
 same manner. But his father said 
 
 ' It is not likely that I should have time to 
 stand by to-morrow, to see you split wood, 
 though I happened to have leisure just now ; 
 and I cannot yet trust you with the hatchet, 
 when you are alone. But, Lucy, what makes 
 you look so blue ? You look as if you were 
 very cold ; I thought you had warmed your- 
 self with sawing.' 
 
 ' No, father, because I have not been saw- 
 ing. Harry had the saw You know that two 
 21
 
 242 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 of us could not use the saw at the same time 1 
 and so I had nothing to do but to give him 
 the wood when he wanted it, or to hold it for 
 him when he was sawing ; and that, you 
 know, fat t er, was very cold work. That is 
 what mat 3s me look so blue, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Well, to-morrow you shall saw, and I will 
 hold the wood,' said Harry, or we will take it 
 by turns, that will be better ; you shall begin, 
 and saw one stick through, and I will hold 
 the wood ; then I will saw, and you shall hold 
 the wood ; that will be fair, will not it, father ? 
 Quite just I must be just, to be sure.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said his father. ' In your code of 
 laws, for the children on Mount Pilate, do not 
 forget that Nobody can govern well, that is 
 not just.' 
 
 ' That's true,' said Harry, looking very 
 thoughtful ' Now, which must I put first, 
 honesty or justice ?' 
 
 ' I think,' said Lucy, and she paused. 
 
 ' What do you think, my dear V said her 
 father. 
 
 ' I was going to say, that I thought, that 
 honesty is only a sort of justice.' 
 
 ' You thought very rightly, my dear. It is so.' 
 
 'And what are you thinking of, yourself, 
 may I ask you, father T said Lucy ; ' for you 
 looked at the saw, as if you were thinking 
 something more about our sawing.' 
 
 ' I was so,' answered her father I was 
 just thinking of a way, by which you could 
 both saw together, with the same saw.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 243 
 
 < How, father ? 
 
 c Invent the way for yourself, my dear.' 
 
 ' Invent, father ? can I invent ?' said Lucy. 
 
 ' Yes, my dear ; I do not know of any thing 
 that should hinder you. To invent, you 
 know, means what does it mean, Lucy V 
 
 1 It means to invent means to think,' 
 
 said Lucy ; ' but that is not all it means ; for 
 I think, very often, without inventing any 
 thing It means to contrive.' 
 
 ' And what does to contrive mean V 
 
 1 It means to make a contrivance for doing 
 
 any thing O, father, you are going to ask 
 
 me what a contrivance means stay, I will 
 begin again to invent, means to think of, 
 and to find out a new way of doing some- 
 thing, that you want to do.' 
 
 ' Well, now try, if you can, to invent some 
 way of using this saw, so that you and your 
 brother could work with it at the same time. 
 Harry, think of it too ; and whichever thinks 
 of any thing first, speak.' 
 
 ' Father,' said Harry, ' I recollect the day 
 we went to the farmer, who lives on the hill, 
 Farmer Snug, as Lucy and I called him, our 
 seeing two men sawing in a sort of pit.' 
 
 ' I remember it.' cried Lucy ; ' and father 
 told me it was called a sawpit.' 
 
 ' And one of the men stood on a board, that 
 was across the top of the pit, and the other 
 man stood at the bottom of the pit, and they 
 had a kind of saw, that was fixed upright, per- 
 pendicularly, this way, in a sort of frame, and
 
 244 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 one of the men pulled it up, and the other pull- 
 ed it down, through the wood they were saw- 
 ing. Now, if Lucy and I had such a place to 
 saw in, or if I stood upon something very high., 
 and we had another handle to this saw 
 
 ' But, brother,' interrupted Lucy, ' what 
 would be the use to us, of pulling the saw up 
 and down that way ; if we had but a handle 
 at each end of this saw, why could not we saw 
 with it, pulling it backwards and forwards, 
 just as we stand now, without any thing more?' 
 
 ' Very true, Lucy,' said her father, ' now 
 you have found out, or invented, a kind of 
 saw, which was invented long ago by some 
 one else, and which is at present in common 
 use it is called a cross-cut saw : I will get 
 you a cross-cut saw. Now put on your hats ; 
 I am going to walk, to see Farmer Snug, as 
 you call him, about some business of my own, 
 and you may both come with me.' 
 
 Harry and Lucy got themselves ready in a 
 minute, and ran after their father, who never 
 waited for them. When they came to the 
 farmer's house, while their father was talking 
 to the farmer about his business, they ran to 
 the sawpit, in hopes of seeing the men sawing; 
 but no men were at work there. As they re- 
 turned they heard the sound of men sawing 
 in a shed near the house, and they looked into 
 the shed, as they passed, and they found two 
 men sawing the trunk of a tree across, with 
 something like the sort of saw, which Lucy 
 had described to her father. They went back
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 
 
 245 
 
 to Farmer Snug's to tell this to their father : 
 but he was busy talking, and they did not in- 
 terrupt him. While he was engaged with 
 the farmer, Harry and Lucy amused them- 
 selves by looking at every thing in the parlor 
 and kitchen of this cottage. There was one 
 thing in the parlor, which they had never 
 seen before Over the chimney-piece hung a 
 glass vial bottle, in which there was a sort 
 of wooden cross, or reel, on which thread was 
 wound. This cross was much wider than the 
 mouth or neck of the bottle ; and Harry and 
 Lucy wondered how it could ever have been 
 got into the bottle. As they were examining 
 and considering this, their father and the far- 
 mer, having now finished their business, came 
 up to them.
 
 246 EARLY f.ESSONS. 
 
 ' Ah ! you've got that there curious thing, 
 that reel in the bottle,' said the farmer ; ' it 
 has puzzled my wife, and many a wiser per- 
 son ; now, master and miss, do you see, to find 
 out how that reel, thread and all, was got, or, 
 as I say, conjured into the bottle. And I 
 don't doubt, but I might ha' puzzled myself 
 over it a long time, as well as another, if I 
 had not just been told how it was done.' 
 
 ' O, how I wish I had been by !' cried Harry. 
 
 1 And I too !' said Lucy ' Pray how was 
 it done, sir?' 
 
 ' Why, master, Why, miss, you see, just 
 
 this way, very ready The glass was, as it 
 
 were before it come to be a bottle like at all 
 was taken, and just blown over it, from a 
 man's mouth with fire and a long pipe so 
 I was told.' 
 
 Harry and Lucy stood looking up in the 
 man's face, endeavoring to understand what 
 he said ; but, as Farmer Snug had not the art 
 of explaining clearly, it was not easy to com- 
 prehend his descriptions. 
 
 ' Then I will tell you what, master,' said 
 the farmer, growing impatient at finding that 
 he could not explain himself; ' it is an impos- 
 sibility to make a body comprehend it rightly, 
 except they were to see it done, and the man 
 who did it is in our market down here hard 
 by He is a travelling kind of a strange man, 
 who does not speak English right at all, not 
 being an Englishman born, poor man ! no 
 fault of his ! so, if you think well of it, sir, I
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 247 
 
 will bid him, when I go betimes to market, 
 call at your house to-morrow, he is going 
 about the country, to people's houses he 
 blows glass, and mends weather glasses, and 
 sells 'mometers and the like.' 
 
 'Weather glasses! barometers!' said 
 Harry O, pray, father, do let him come !' 
 
 ' Thermometers he sells thermometers 
 too!' criedLucy, 'O pray, father, let him come!' 
 
 Their father smiled, and said, that he 
 should be obliged to Farmer Snug, if he 
 would desire this man to call in the morning, 
 at half past eight o'clock, if he could. The 
 family usually breakfasted at nine. 
 
 So much for the pleasures of this morning. 
 This evening, Harry and Lucy's father and 
 mother were reading to themselves ; and the 
 children entertained themselves with putting 
 in some more stars into their map of the sky : 
 and they looked at the great celestial globe, 
 which their mother had uncovered for them, 
 and they learned the names of the signs of the 
 Zodiac, and the months to which they be- 
 long. Lucy showed these to Harry, and said, 
 
 ' Mother does not know them all herself ; 
 let us get them by heart and surprise her.' 
 
 Accordingly they learnt them, with some 
 little difficulty. 
 
 After they had learnt these, Harry and 
 Lucy refreshed themselves, by playing a 
 game at jack straws, or, as some call them, 
 spillikens. Lucy had taken off almost all the 
 straws, without shaking one, and, according
 
 248 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 to the rules of the game, would, consequently 
 have been victorious ; but, unluckily, a sudder 
 push backward of her father's chair shook 
 her elbow, shook her hand, shook jack-straw, 
 just as she was lifting him up, and he fell ! 
 
 Harry, clapping his hands, exclaimed 
 
 ' There ! you shook ! you shook ! 
 you've lost.' 
 
 Lucy looked at her brother, and smiled. 
 
 ' She has lost the game,' said her mother ; 
 1 but she has won a kiss from me, for her 
 good humor.' 
 
 Lucy, indeed, bore the loss of her game 
 very good humoredly ; and, when she went 
 to wish her father and mother good night, 
 they both kissed her and smiled upon her. 
 
 ' The barometer-man is to come to-day, fa- 
 ther, at half after eight, and it is half after sev- 
 en now, father Will you get up'?' said Harry. 
 
 ' The man who can show us how the reel 
 was put into the bottle,' added Lucy ' Will 
 you not get up, father ?' 
 
 Their father rose and dressed himself; and, 
 as he was dressed by eight o'clock, they had 
 half an hour to spare, before the time when 
 this much expected man was appointed to come. 
 
 ' Why should we waste this half hour, Har- 
 ry T said his father ; ' let us go on with what 
 we were talking of yesterday morning. Do you 
 recollect the experiments we tried yesterday T 
 
 ' Certainly, father,' said Harry ; ' you mean 
 the experiments you showed us, with the
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 249 
 
 burning tow and the turpentine, to make an 
 empty space a vacuum, I remember, you 
 called it in the tumbler, that we might see 
 whether the water would rise and fill the 
 place, which the air had filled Yes, father, 
 I remember all this perfectly.' 
 
 ' And I remember the experiment you tried 
 with the roll of tape, father, which you put 
 under the glass When you unrolled the tape 
 and pulled it gently from under the tumbler, 
 the water went up, and took the place of the 
 tape that was unrolled.' 
 
 ' But, father !' cried Harry, ' I have thought 
 of something ! I want to ask you a ques- 
 tion, father.' 
 
 1 Ask it, then, my dear ; but you need not 
 begin, by telling me that you want to ask a 
 question.' 
 
 ' What I want to say, father, is this ' 
 
 ' Think first, my boy, and, when you clear- 
 ly know what you mean to say, speak ; and 
 begin without that foolish preface of what 1 
 icant to say is this.' 
 
 1 What I want,' Harry began from habit, 
 but stopped himself and began again 
 
 ' Would the water run up into a very high 
 vessel, father, as well as it ran into the tum- 
 bler, if you suppose that some of the air, in 
 the high vessel, were taken out of it ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered his father : ' If the vesse] 
 were as high as the room, in which we are, 
 the water would remain in it, if it were quite 
 emptied of air.'
 
 250 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Harry asked, if it would stay in the vessel, 
 were it as high as the house. 
 
 ' No, it would not,' answered his father ; 
 { because the pressure of the atmosphere is not 
 sufficient to hold up the weight of such a col- 
 umn of water, as could be contained in a pipe 
 forty feet high ; though it is sufficient to sup- 
 port or sustain, or hold up, the water that could 
 be contained in a pipe thirty-four feet high. 
 
 Harry said he did not understand this. 
 
 ' I am not surprised at that,' said his father ; 
 { for you are not used to the words pressure 
 of the atmosphere, or column of water, and to 
 other words which I make use of. But,' con- 
 tinued his father, if we had a pipe forty feet 
 long, with cocks such as are in tea-urns, fitted 
 well into each end of it, and if the pipe were 
 placed upright against a wall, with the bottom 
 of it in a tub of water, and if the lower cock 
 were shut, and if the upper cock were opened, 
 the pipe might, by means of a tundish, or tun- 
 nel, be filled with water. Now, Harry, if the 
 lower cock were open, what would happen ?' 
 
 ' The water would run out at the bottom,' 
 answered Harry, ' and would overflow the tub.' 
 
 ' True,' said his father. 
 
 ' But now suppose the pipe were filled again 
 with water ; and if the cock at the top were 
 shut and the cock at the bottom opened, under 
 water, would the water in the pipe run out ?' 
 
 1 No, it would not,' said Harry ; ' the pres- 
 sure of the atmosphere, at the bottom of the 
 pipe, would prevent it from falling out.'
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 251 
 
 ' That would be the case.' said his father, 
 ' if the pipe was only thirty-three or thirty- 
 four feet high ; but this pipe is forty feet high, 
 so that the water in six feet of the top of the 
 pipe would run out ; and, if this were let to 
 run out very gently, the water in the remain- 
 ing thirty-three or thirty-four feet would con- 
 tinue supported by the pressure of the 
 atmosphere on the water in the tub.' 
 
 ' Father,' said Lucy, ' there is a tub of wa- 
 ter in the area under the window in my room ; 
 and this would be a fine way of raising wa- 
 ter up into my room, without the trouble of 
 carrying it up stairs.' 
 
 ' My dear, that is an ingenious thought,' said 
 her father ; ' but you are mistaken I will not 
 attempt at present to tell you exactly how ' 
 
 ' Here is the barometer man, father !' in- 
 terrupted Lucy ' I saw an odd little man, 
 with a box under his arm, go by the window. 
 Hark ! There he is, knocking at the door.' 
 
 The man was shown into a room, which 
 was called the workshop. He was a little, 
 thin man, with a very dark complexion, large 
 black eyes, and, as the children observed, had 
 something ingenious and good-natured in his 
 countenance, though he was ugly. Though 
 he could not speak English well, he made 
 them understand him, by the assistance of 
 signs. He began to open his box, and to produce 
 some of his things ; but Harry's father asked 
 him to rest himself after his walk, and ordered 
 that he should have breakfast brought to him.
 
 252 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Harry and Lucy despatched their breakfast 
 with great expedition ; they thought that 
 their father and mother were unusually slow 
 in eating theirs, and that their father drank 
 an uncommon number of dishes of tea ; but 
 at last he said ' No more, thank you, my 
 dear' and putting aside the newspaper he 
 rose, and said 
 
 ' Now, children, now for the barometer- 
 man^ as you call him.' 
 
 ' Mother ! mother ! pray come with us !' 
 said the children ; they took her by the 
 hand, and they all went together. 
 
 ' Now, mother, you shall see what Farmer 
 Snug described to us yesterday,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' No what he could not describe to us yes- 
 terday, you mean,' said Harry ' How a reel 
 or a kind of wooden cross, mother, is put into 
 a bottle, or how the bottle is made or blown 
 over the reel I do not understand it quite, 
 yet.' 
 
 ' So I perceive, my dear,' said his mother, 
 smiling ; ' for I have seen the whole process 
 accomplished with a piece of wire.' 
 
 ' But this man will show it to us, mother,' 
 said Lucy. ' And I generally understand 
 what I see, though I often do not understand 
 what I hear.' 
 
 Alas ! to Harry's and Lucy's great disap- 
 pointment, this man, when they had, with 
 some difficulty, made him understand what 
 they wanted, told them, that he could not
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 253 
 
 blow a bottle over a reel, such as they had 
 seen at the farmer's. 
 
 This was a sad disappointment ! and, 
 what Harry thought still worse, the man had 
 sold all his barometers. However, he had 
 some little thermometers, and Lucy's mother 
 bought one for her, and gave it to her. Lucy 
 colored all over her face, and her eyes sparkled 
 with pleasure, when her mother put it into her 
 hand, and Harry was almost as glad as she 
 was. 
 
 ' Is it really for me ! for my own, mother ! 
 I will take care and not break it. Harry, 
 we can hang it up in our wood-room, and see 
 every day how cold, or how hot the room is, 
 before and after we begin to work and we 
 can try such a number of nice experiments.' 
 
 ' Pray, sir,' said Lucy to the man, ' how 
 do you make these thermometers ?' 
 
 The man said he would show her, and he 
 took out of his box some long tubes of glass, 
 and a long brass pipe, and a lamp. It was a 
 lamp with which he could melt glass. When 
 he had lit his lamp, it made a large flame, 
 which he blew with a brass pipe, that he held 
 in his mouth. Her father told her, that this 
 pipe was called a blow-pipe. With it the 
 man blew the flame of the lamp, and directed 
 it to one of the glass tubes, which he held in 
 his other hand. In a little time, the heat be- 
 gan to melt the glass, and it melted into a 
 round ball ; this he heated again in the flame 
 of the lamp, and, when the glass was soft and
 
 254 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 melting, he closed that end of the pipe, and 
 it looked like a lump of melted glass ; then he 
 blew air with his mouth in through the other 
 end of the glass pipe, till the air blown with- 
 inside of the pipe reached the end, which was 
 melting ; and, the air being strongly blown 
 against it, it swelled out into a bubble of 
 melted glass, and thus made the bulb of a 
 thermometer-tube. He left it to cool very 
 slowly, and when it was cool, it became hard 
 and was a perfect thermometer-tube. 
 
 Harry's father had some syphons ar^ bent 
 tubes of different shapes made for him. He y
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 255 
 
 was very glad of this ; for he thought he could 
 try many different experiments with these. 
 
 The thermometer-man was now paid and 
 dismissed. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Harry and Lucy 
 went to their usual occupations ; for they 
 never missed any day their regular lessons. 
 Then came sawing wood then walking out 
 Happy children ! always doing some- 
 thing useful or agreeable. 
 
 This evening, when they were sitting round 
 the fire after dinner, and after his father had 
 finished reading the newspaper, when he was 
 not busy, Harry asked him what glass was 
 made of. ' I thought you had known that, 
 long ago, Harry,' said his father Surely I 
 have told you, have not I ?' 
 
 ' Yes, father, I believe I dare say you 
 have ; but I always forget ; because I never 
 was very curious, or much interested about it 
 till now ; but now, when we have been seeing, 
 and thinking, and talking so much about glass, 
 I think I shall remember what it is made of, if 
 you will be so good as to tell me once more.' 
 
 His father desired Harry to bring him some 
 sand, which was lying in a paper in his 
 study Harry did so. Then his father said 
 to his mother 
 
 ' I wish I had some alkali, to show the 
 children some barilla ashes Have you any 
 in the house ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 There was no barilla ashes ; but she recol-
 
 256 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 lected that a heap of fern and bean stalks 
 had been lately burned near the house, and 
 the ashes of these were to be easily had. 
 
 Some of these ashes were brought upon a 
 plate ; and Harry's father placed the ashes 
 and the sand before him, and said 
 
 ' These, when burnt together, would make 
 glass.' 
 
 ' I shall never forget it,' said Harry 'Now 
 I have seen the real things, of which glass is 
 made, I shall never forget them.' 
 
 ' That is what I say too,' cried Lucy : 
 ' Seeing things, and seeing them just at the 
 very time I am curious about them, makes 
 me remember easily, and exceedingly well.' 
 
 ' Taste these ashes,' said their father ' this 
 pot-ash, as it is called ; wet your ringer, take 
 tip a little of it, and put it into your mouth.' 
 
 Harry and Lucy did so ; but they said the 
 ashes had not an agreeable taste. Their father 
 said, that he did not expect that they should 
 think it agreeable ; but that he had desired 
 them to taste the ashes, that they might know 
 the taste of what is called alkali what is 
 called an alkaline taste. 
 
 1 1 shall not forget that, either,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' How wonderful it is,' continued she look- 
 ing first at the sand and ashes, and then at a 
 glass, which she held in her hand 'how won- 
 derful it is, that such a beautiful, clean, clear, 
 transparent thing as glass, could be made from 
 such different looking things, as sand and 
 ashes !'
 
 HARRY AND LUCV. 257 
 
 ' And I wonder,' said Harry, : how people 
 could ever think or invent, that glass could 
 be made of these things.' 
 
 e Some say that glass was invented, or 
 rather discovered, by a curious accident,' said 
 his father. 
 
 ' Pray, father, tell us the accident.' 
 
 ' Some sailors, or some merchants, who 
 were going on a voyage, were driven by con- 
 trary winds, out of their course (or way.) 
 They were driven close to land, and they were 
 obliged to go on shore the shore was sandy 
 and there grew near the place where these 
 men landed a great deal of sea-weed. The 
 men wanted to boil some food in an iron pot, 
 which they had brought on shore with them ; 
 they made a fire on the sands with sea-weed ; 
 and they observed, that the ashes of this sea- 
 weed, mixed with the sand and burnt by the 
 fire, had a glassy appearance. It looked like 
 a kind of greenish glass. It is said, that, from 
 this observation, they formed the first idea of 
 making glass by burning ashes of sea-weed 
 (called kelp] and sand together.' 
 
 ' How lucky it was, that they made this 
 fire on the sand with sea- weed !' said Harry. 
 
 ' How wise these people were, to observe 
 what happened when they did so !' said 
 Harry's father. 
 
 Next morning, when Harry and Lucy went 
 into their father's room, Harry began witb 
 his usual speech 
 
 22
 
 258 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 { Now for the barometer, father ! and, 
 added he, ' we must make haste, for we are 
 to go to-morrow to my uncle's, and I must 
 understand it quite, before I see him again 
 we must make haste, father.' 
 
 ' Let us go on quietly from where we left 
 off' yesterday,' said his father. 
 
 ' Yes, about the long pipe,' said Harry. 
 
 ' Pray, father,' said Lucy, 'when you were 
 speaking of the water staying in the pipe, why 
 did you say, that the water would be held up, 
 or sustained, by the pressure of the atmos- 
 phere, to thirty-three or thirty-four feet high in 
 the tube 1 Why should you say thirty-three 
 or thirty-four feet 1 Would it not stay either 
 at the one or at the other of these heights T 
 
 1 That is a very sensible question, Lucy,' 
 said her father. ' The reason is, that the 
 pressure of the atmosphere is not always the 
 same. In fine weather, it is generally greater 
 than when it rains or snows ; and before it 
 rains or snows, the pressure, or, as it is some- 
 times called, the weight of the atmosphere, is 
 less than at some other times. So that, if we 
 had such a pipe, or tube, and if the upper 
 part of it were transparent, so that we could 
 see into the inside of it, we could tell, by the 
 rising and falling of the water in the pipe, 
 when the air, or atmosphere, was heavier or 
 lighter, and then we might suppose, that the 
 weather was going to change. I say suppose, 
 because we should not be sure.' 
 
 { Then, father,' said Harry, ' if the top of
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 259 
 
 this pipe were of glass, it would be a barom- 
 eter, would not it V 
 
 1 Yes, my dear, it would Now you know 
 what a barometer is.' 
 
 ' Why do not people make such barometers 
 as this T said Harry. 
 
 ' Because they would be very inconvenient,' 
 said his father ; ' in the first place, it would 
 be difficult to piece them so as that the rise 
 and fall of the water could be easily seen, be- 
 cause you must go up to the top of the house 
 every time you wanted to consult the barom- 
 eter ; in the next place, the frost would turn 
 the water in the tube into ice ; and there 
 would be an end of the barometer. But the 
 shining liquor, that you saw in your uncle's 
 barometer, is not liable to freeze.' 
 
 ' That shining liquor,' said Harry, c is call- 
 ed quicksilver or mercury.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said his father. ' Here is some 
 mercury ; feel the weight of it.' 
 
 ' The quicksilver, that is in this glass, 
 father,' said Lucy, ' seems as heavy as all the 
 water that is in that decanter.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said her father, ' mercury is more 
 than fourteen times heavier than water. 
 Now, Harry, if the pipe, forty feet long, which 
 we were speaking of before, was filled with 
 quicksilver, do you think that the pressure of 
 the atmosphere would hold up the quicksilver 
 thirty-four feet high ?' 
 
 ' Certainly not, father,' answered Harry ;
 
 260 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ' because the quicksilver is so much heavier 
 than water.' 
 
 1 Would it hold it up one quarter the same 
 height T said his father. 
 
 ' No, it would not,' answered Harry ; ' he- 
 cause it is easy to perceive that the quicksilver 
 is more than four times heavier than water.' 
 
 ' Very true, Harry ; it has been found by 
 experiment, that the pressure of the atmos- 
 phere will sustain a column of mercury about 
 twenty-nine inches high ; sometimes, it will 
 sustain only a column of twenty-seven inches ; 
 and some times, a column of thirty, more or less, 
 according to the pressure of the atmosphere.' 
 
 ' How long is the tube of the barometer ?' 
 said Harry. 
 
 ' It is generally about thirty-six inches long ; 
 but, as the mercury never rises to the top of 
 the tube, there is always an empty space be- 
 tween the top of the mercury and the top of 
 the glass, which allows the mercury to rise or 
 fall as the pressure of the atmosphere is more 
 or less. The glass tube of a barometer is 
 about one fourteenth part as long as the 
 leaden pipe, which you said would make a 
 water barometer ; but the quicksilver is 
 fourteen times as heavy as the water.' 
 
 ' All this is rather difficult,' said Lucy. 
 
 ' So it must appear to you at first, my 
 dear,' said her father ; but, when you have 
 seen it often and talked with your brother 
 about it, you will understand it more clearly.' 
 
 1 But at least,' said Lucy, ' I know now
 
 HARRY AND LUCY. 261 
 
 father, what is meant by the glass falling 
 and rising. It does not mean that the glass 
 falls or rises, but that the mercury rises 
 or falls in the glass.' 
 
 ' Very true, my dear Lucy ; saying, that the 
 glass rises or falls, is an inaccurate mode of 
 speaking. Now, my dear boy, I think you 
 will be able to understand your uncle's barom- 
 eter, when you see it to-morrow ; particularly 
 if you will read, to-night, an excellent de- 
 scription and explanation of the barometer, 
 which you will find in this little book,' said 
 his father, putting ' Scientific Dialogues' into 
 his hands ; it was open at the word barometer. 
 
 ' O, thank you, father !' said Harry. 
 
 1 And, my dear Lucy,' said her father, 
 turning to Lucy, and showing her in a book, 
 which he held in his hand, a print, ' do you 
 know what this is ?' 
 
 1 A thermometer, father Fahrenheit's 
 thermometer O, I remember what you told 
 me about Fahrenheit's thermometer.' 
 
 < I think you will be able, now, to under- 
 stand this description of thermometers, my 
 dear ; and you may read it whenever you 
 please ;' said her father. 
 
 ' I please to read it this instant, father,' 
 said Lucy. 
 
 So Lucy sat down, and read, in the ' Con- 
 versations on ChymistryJ the description of 
 the thermo neter ; and Harry read the expla- 
 nation of th 3 barometer, in ' Scientific Dia- 
 logues? And when they had finished, they
 
 262 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 changed books, and Harry read what she 
 had been reading ; and Lucy read what Har- 
 ry had been reading ; and they liked the books, 
 because they understood what they had read. 
 ' I wonder what the rest of this book is 
 about,' said Harry, turning over the leaves ; 
 ' here are many things I should like to know 
 something about.' 
 
 ' And I should like,' said Lucy, ' to read 
 some more of these conversations between 
 Emma, and Caroline, and Mrs. B . There 
 seems to be drawings here, and experiments 
 too. Since father has shown us some exper- 
 iments, I wish to see more.' 
 
 ' But, my dear.' said her father, 'you are not 
 able yet to understand that book. Look at 
 the beginning of it. Read the first sentence.' 
 
 1 Having now acquired some elementary 
 notions of natural philosophy ' 
 
 ' What are elementary notions T said Lucy, 
 stopping short. 
 
 ' I know,' said Harry ; ' for I heard the 
 writing-master the other day tell my father, 
 that he had given Wilmot, the gardener's son, 
 some elementary notions of arithmetic, that 
 is, first foundation notions, as it were.' 
 
 Then I have no elementary notions of nat- 
 ural philosophy have I, father T said Lucy. 
 
 ' In the first place, do you know what natu- 
 ral philosophy is, my dear ?' said her father. 
 
 Lucy hesitated ; and at last she said, she 
 did not know clearly she believed, it was 
 something about nature.
 
 HARRY AND LUCV. 263 
 
 Harry said, he believed it meant the knowl- 
 edge of all natural things things in nature , 
 such as the air, and the fire, and the water, 
 and the earth, and the trees, and all those 
 things, which we see in the world, and 
 which are not made by the hands of human 
 creatures. 
 
 Their father said, that this was partly what 
 was meant. 
 
 ' Then,' said Lucy, ' I have no elementary 
 notions of natural philosophy. 
 
 ' Yes, you have,' said Harry ' All we have 
 been learning about the air, and the wind, 
 and the pressure of the atmosphere, and all 
 that father has been showing us, about water 
 and quicksilver ; these are elementary notions 
 of natural philosophy, are not they, father 1' 
 said Harry. 
 
 ' Yes ; but you have, as yet, icarnt very 
 little,' said his father ; ' you have a great 
 deal more to learn, before you will be able to 
 understand all that is in these ' Conversations 
 on Chymistry,' and in Scientific Dialogues.' 
 
 ' Well, father,' said Harry, smiling, ' that 
 is what you used to say to me about the ba- 
 rometer ; you used to say, a little while ago, 
 that I must know a great deal more, before I 
 could understand the barometer ; but now 
 I have learnt all that, and now I do under- 
 stand the barometer ; and in time, / shall 
 we shall, I mean know enough, I dare say, 
 to read these books, and to understand them
 
 264 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 just as well as we now understand the ba- 
 rometer and thermometer.' 
 
 ' Yes, and very soon too, I dare say ! 
 shall we not, father V cried Lucy. 
 
 ' All in good time ; we will make haste 
 slowly, my dear children,' answered their 
 father. ' Now go get ready, as quickly as 
 you please, to go with your mother and me 
 to your uncle's.' 
 
 END OF HARRY AND LUCY.
 
 FRANK 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIA EDGEWORTH 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 CROSBY, NICHOLS, LEE AND COMPANY. 
 
 I860.
 
 FRANK 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THERE was a little boy, whose name was 
 Frank. He had a father and mother, who 
 were very kind to him, and he loved them ; 
 he liked to talk to them, and he liked to walk 
 with them, and he liked to be with them. 
 He liked to do what they asked him to do ; 
 and he took care not to do what they desired 
 him not to do. When his father or mother 
 said to him, " Frank, shut the door," he ran, 
 directly, and shut the door. When they said 
 to him, "Frank, do not touch that knife," 
 he took his hands away from the knife, and 
 did not touch it. He was an obedient lit- 
 tle boy. 
 
 One evening, when his father and mother 
 were drinking tea, he was sitting under the 
 tea-table ; and he took hold of one of the legs 
 of the table, and he tried to pull it towards 
 himself, but he could not move it. He took 
 hold of another leg of the table, and he found 
 that he could not move it ; but at last he 
 took hold of one, which he found that he
 
 4 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 could move, very easily ; for this leg turned 
 upon a hinge, and was not fixed like the 
 other legs. As he was drawing this leg of 
 the table towards him, his mother said to 
 him, " Frank, what are you doing ? " 
 
 And he answered, " Mamma, I am playing 
 with the leg of the table." 
 
 And his mother said, " What do you mean 
 by saying that you are playing with the leg 
 of the table ? 
 
 And Frank said, "I mean that I am pull- 
 ing it towards me, mamma." 
 
 And his mother said, " Let it alone, my 
 dear." 
 
 And Frank took his hands away from the 
 leg of the table, and he let it alone ; and he 
 came from under the table ; and he got up, 
 and stood beside his mother ; and he said, 
 " Mamma, I come away from the leg of the 
 table, that I may riot think of touching it 
 any more ; " and his father and mother 
 smiled. 
 
 And Frank said, " But, mother, will you 
 tell me why you bid me let it alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will, my dear," said his mother ; 
 and she then moved some of the tea-cups and 
 saucers to another table ; and Frank's fathei 
 put the tea-urn upon another table ; and then 
 Frank's mother said to him, "Now, my dear 
 Frank, go and push the leg of the table, as 
 you did before." 
 
 And Frank pushed the leg of the table ,
 
 FRANK. 5 
 
 and when he had pushed it a little way, he 
 stopped, and looked up at his mother, and 
 said, " I see part of the top of the table 
 moving down towards my head, mamma ; 
 and if I push this leg any farther back, I am 
 afraid that part of the table will fall down 
 upon my head, and hurt me." 
 
 " I will hold up this part of the table, 
 which is called the leaf," said his mother ; 
 " and I will not let it fall down upon your 
 head. Pull the leg of the table back, as far 
 as you can." And Frank did as his mother 
 desired him ; and when he had pulled it back 
 as far as he could, his mother bid him come 
 from under the table ; and he did so ; and she 
 said, " Stand beside me, and look what hap- 
 pens when I let go this leaf of the table, 
 which I am now holding." 
 
 And Frank said, " I know what will hap- 
 pen, I believe, mamma : it will fall ; for now, 
 that I have pulled back the leg, there is noth- 
 ing to hold it up but your hand." 
 
 Then his mother took away her hand, and 
 the leaf of the table fell ; and Frank put his 
 hand upon his head, and said, " O, mamma, 
 that would have hurt me very much, if it had 
 fallen upon my head. I am glad I was not 
 under the table when the leaf fell. And now 
 I believe I know the reason, mamma, why 
 you asked me not to meddle with that leg of 
 the table ; because the leaf (is not that the 
 name you told me?) the leaf would have
 
 O EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 fallen upon my head, and would have hurt 
 me. Was not that the reason, mamma 5 " 
 
 " That was one reason ; but I had some 
 other reasons. Try if you can find out what 
 they were, Frank," said his mother. 
 
 And Frank looked at the table for a little 
 while, and then answered, " I don't know 
 any other reasons, mamma ; " but, as he was 
 saying these words, he saw his mother turn 
 her head towards the table upon which she 
 had put the cups and saucers. 
 
 " O, now, mamma," said Frank, " I know 
 what you mean. If those cups and saucers 
 had been upon this leaf of the table, they 
 would have slid down when it fell, and they 
 would have been broken. And the urn too, 
 mamma, would have come tumbling down ; 
 and perhaps the top of the urn would have 
 come off ; and then all the hot water would 
 have come running out, and would have wet 
 the room, and would have scalded me, if I 
 had been under it. I am very glad, mamma, 
 that I did as you bid me." 
 
 One day, Frank's mother took him out to 
 walk with her in the fields ; and he saw- 
 flowers of different colors blue, red, yellow 
 and purple ; and he asked his mother whether 
 he might gather some of these flowers. 
 
 She answered, " Yes, my dear, you may 
 gather as many of these flowers as you 
 please."
 
 FRANK. 7 
 
 Then Frank ran, and gathered several 
 flowers ; and in one corner of this field, upon 
 a bank, he saw some blue-bells ; and he liked 
 blue-bells, and he ran and gathered them ; 
 and, in the next field, he saw a great number 
 of purple flowers, which, he thought, looked 
 very pretty ; and he got over the stile, and 
 went into the next field, and went close up 
 to the purple flowers ; they had yellow in the 
 middle of them, and they grew upon a plant 
 which had a great number of green leaves. 
 
 As Frank was pulling some of the purple 
 flowers, he shook the green leaves ; and he 
 saw amongst them several little green balls, 
 which looked like very small apples. Frank 
 wished to taste them ; and he was just going 
 to pull one from the stalk, when he recollect- 
 ed that his mother had not given him leave 
 to have them ; and he ran back to his mother, 
 and said, " Mamma, may I have some of 
 those nice little apples ? " and he pointed to 
 the plants on which the purple flowers grew. 
 His mother answered, " I do not see any ap- 
 ples, my dear." 
 
 " You will see them, mamma, if you will 
 come a little closer to them," said Frank ; 
 and he took his mother by the hand, and led 
 her to the plants, and showed her the little 
 green balls, which he thought were apples. 
 
 " My dear little boy," said his mother, 
 '' these are not apples ; these things are not 
 good to be eaten ; they are poisonous j they
 
 8 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 would have made you sick, if you had eaten 
 them." 
 
 " I am glad," said Frank, " that I did not 
 taste them. But may I have one of them for 
 a ball ? " 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother ; "do not 
 meddle with any of them." 
 
 Frank walked on, in the path, beside his 
 mother, and he did not meddle with any of 
 the little green balls. And he saw at a little 
 distance from him a boy, who was digging ; 
 and when he came near to this boy, Frank 
 saw that he was digging up some of the 
 plants that bore the pretty purple flowers ; 
 and Frank said, " Mamma, why does this 
 boy dig up these things ? Is he going to 
 throw them away ? " 
 
 And Frank's mother said, " Look, and you 
 will see what part of them he keeps, and 
 what part of them he throws away." 
 
 And Frank looked, and he saw that the 
 boy pulled off the brown and white round 
 roots of the plant, and he put those roots into 
 a basket. The green part of the plant, and 
 the purple flowers, and the green balls, which 
 Frank mistook for apples, he saw that the 
 boy threw away. 
 
 And Frank said to his mother, " What are 
 those roots in the. basket ? " 
 
 His mother said, "Look at them, and try 
 if you can find out. You have eaten roots 
 like them ; you often see roots like these a 
 dinner."
 
 FRANK. 9 
 
 ' I do not remember," said Frank, " ever 
 having seen such dirty things as these at 
 dinner." 
 
 " They are washed and boiled before you 
 see them at dinner, and then they look 
 white," said his mother. 
 
 Frank looked again at the roots which 
 were in the basket ; and he said, " Mamma, 
 1 think that they are potatoes." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, they are potatoes," said 
 his mother ; and then Frank and his mother 
 went on a little farther, and they came to a 
 large, shady tree ; and Frank's mother sat 
 down upon a bank under the shade of this 
 tree, to cool and rest herself ; for she was hot 
 and tired. Frank was not tired, therefore he 
 did not sit down ; but he amused himself 
 with trying to reach some of the branches of 
 the tree which hung over his head. 
 
 He jumped up as high as he could, to 
 catch them ; but he found that several, which 
 he thought he could reach, he could not 
 touch, even when he stretched out his hand 
 arid arm, and stood on tiptoe. 
 
 At last he saw a bough which hung lower 
 than the other boughs, and he jumped up 
 and caught hold of it ; and he held it down, 
 that he might look at the leaves of the tree. 
 
 " Mamma," said he, " these leaves are not 
 like the leaves of the tree which is near the 
 hall door, at home. You told me the name 
 of that tree ; that tree is called a beech.
 
 . EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " What is the name of this tree ? " 
 
 " This tree is called ahorse-chestnut-tree." 
 
 "Mamma," said Frank, "here are little 
 balls upon this tree ; they are something like 
 those I saw upon the potatoes. I won't 
 meddle with them ; they have prickles upon 
 them." 
 
 And Frank's mother said, " You may 
 gather some of these little balls, my dear ; 
 these are not of the same sort as those you 
 saw on the potato-plants. These are not 
 poisonous ; these are called horse-chestnuts : 
 the prickles are not very sharp ; you may 
 break them off." 
 
 " How many of these horse-chestnuts may 
 I gather, mamma ? " said Frank. 
 
 " You may gather four of them, my dear," 
 said his mother ; and Frank gathered four of 
 the horse-chestnuts. Then he let go the 
 bough ; and he sat down upon the bank, be- 
 side his mother, to examine his horse-chest- 
 nuts. His mother broke one of them open 
 for him ; the inside of the green husk was 
 white and soft, and, in the middle of this 
 white, soft substance, there lay a smooth 
 shining kernel, of the color of mahogany. 
 
 " Is it good to eat, mamma ? " said Frank. 
 " May I taste it ? " 
 
 " You may taste it, if you please, my 
 dear," said his mother ; " but I do not think 
 that you will like it, for that brown skin has 
 a bitter taste, arid I do not think the inside
 
 FRANK. 11 
 
 of it is agreeable ; but you may taste it, if 
 you like it." 
 
 Frank tasted it, and he did not like the 
 bitter of the outside ; and he said, " Mamma, 
 I will always take care to ask you before I 
 meddle with things, or taste them, because 
 you know more than I do, and you can tell 
 me whether they are good for me or not." 
 
 Frank's mother, having now rested herself, 
 got up from her seat ; and she walked home ; 
 and Frank carried his three horse-chestnuts 
 home with him. He did not put them into 
 his mouth, because he had learned that they 
 tasted bitter, but he used them as balls ; and 
 he rolled them along the floor, when he got 
 into the house ; and he was very happy play- 
 ing with them. 
 
 Another day, Frank went out to walk with 
 his mother ; and he came to a gate that was 
 painted green ; and he stopped at the gate, 
 and looked between the rails of it ; and he 
 saw a pretty garden, with several beds of 
 flowers in it ; and there were nice, clean 
 gravel-walks between these flower-beds, and 
 all around the garden. And against the walls 
 of the garden there were plum-trees and 
 cherry-trees ; and the cherries and plums 
 looked as if they were quite ripe. 
 
 And Frank called to his mothe-, who was 
 a little way off; and he said, " Mamma, come
 
 12 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 look at this pretty garden I wish I 
 might open this gate, and go in and walk 
 in it." 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " you must 
 not open the gate. This garden does not be- 
 long to me, and I cannot give you leave to 
 walk in it." 
 
 There was a man nailing up a net over a 
 cherry-tree in this garden, and he came to 
 the gate, and opened it, and said, " Will you 
 walk in, ma'am ? This garden belongs to 
 me, and you shall be very welcome to walk 
 in it." And Frank's mother thanked the 
 man ; and she turned to Frank, and said, " If 
 I take you with me, Frank, to walk in this 
 garden, you must take care not to meddle
 
 FRANK. 13 
 
 with any thing in it." And Frank said that 
 he would not meddle with any thing in the 
 garden ; and his mother took him into it. 
 
 As he walked along the gravel- walks, he 
 looked at every thing ; but he did not touch 
 any thing. 
 
 A very sweet smell came from two beds 
 of pinks and carnations ; and he stood at a 
 little distance from them, looking at them ; 
 and the man to whom the garden belonged 
 said to him, " Walk down this narrow path, 
 master, between the beds, and you'll see my 
 carnations better." 
 
 And Frank answered, " I should like to 
 come down that narrow path, but I am afraid 
 of coming, because the skirts of my coat, I 
 am afraid, will brush against the flowers. I 
 saw your coat, just now, sir, hit against the 
 top of a flower, and it broke it." 
 
 Frank's mother smiled, and said, " I am 
 glad, my dear little boy, that you are so care- 
 ful not to do mischief." 
 
 Frank did not tread upon any of the bor- 
 ders ; and the person to whom the garden 
 belonged, who was a gardener, said to his 
 mother, " I hope, whenever you come this 
 way again, ma'am, you'll walk in this garden 
 of mine, and bring this little gentleman with 
 you ; for I am sure, by what I see of him 
 now, that he will not do me any mischief." 
 
 The gardener told Frank the ttames of 
 several flowers ; and he show 3d him the seeds
 
 14 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 of these flowers ; and he showed Frank how 
 these seeds should be sowed in the ground. 
 
 And whilst the gardener was showing 
 Frank how to sow the seeds of mignionette, 
 he heard a noise at the gate ; and he looked, 
 and he saw a boy, who was shaking the gate, 
 and trying to get in ; but the gate was locked, 
 and the boy could not open it ; and the boy 
 called to the gardener, and said, " Let me in ; 
 let me in. Won't you let me in ? " 
 
 But the gardener answered, " No I will 
 not let you come in, sir, I assure you ; for 
 when I did let you in, yesterday, you med- 
 dled with my flowers, and you ate some of 
 my cherries. I do not choose to let you in 
 here again ; I do not choose to let a dishonest 
 boy into my garden, who meddles with what 
 does not belong to him." 
 
 This boy looked very much ashamed, and 
 very sorry, that he might not come into the 
 pretty garden ; and he stood at the gate for 
 some time ; but when he found that the gar- 
 dener would not let him in, he went slowly 
 away. 
 
 A little while afterwards, Frank asked his 
 mother why she did not gather some of the 
 pinks in this garden ; and his mother an- 
 swered, " Because they are not mine ; and I 
 must not meddle with what does not belong 
 to me." 
 
 " I did not know, till now, mamma," said 
 Frank, " that you must not meddle with what
 
 FRANK. 15 
 
 does not belong to you. I thought that peo- 
 ple only said to little boys, You must not 
 meddle with what does not belong to you." 
 
 " My dear," said Frank's mother, "neither 
 women, nor men, nor children, should meddle 
 with what does not belong to them. Little 
 children do not know this, till it is told to 
 them." 
 
 "And, mamma," said Frank, "what is 
 the reason that men, women, and children, 
 should not meddle with what does not belong 
 to them?" 
 
 Frank's mother answered, " I cannot ex- 
 plain all the reasons to you yet, my dear; but 
 should you like that any body should take 
 flowers out of the little garden you have at 
 home ? " 
 
 " No, mamma, I should not." 
 
 " And did you not see that the boy who 
 just now came to this green gate was pre- 
 vented by the gardener from coming into this 
 garden, because, yesterday, the boy took 
 flowers and fruit which did not belong to 
 him ? You, Frank, have not meddled with 
 any of these flowers, or this fruit ; and, you 
 know, the gardener said, that he would let 
 you come in here again, whenever I like to 
 bring you with me." 
 
 " I am very glad of that, mamma," said 
 Frank ; " for I like to walk in this pretty 
 garden ; and I will take care not to meddle 
 with any thing that does not belong to me.'
 
 16 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Then Frank's mother said, " It is time that 
 we should go home." And Frank thanked 
 the gardener for letting him walk in his gar- 
 den, and for showing him how to sow seeds 
 in the ground ; and Frank went home with 
 his mother. 
 
 A few days after Frank had been with his 
 mother to walk in the garden that had the 
 green gate, his mother said to him, " Frank, 
 put on your hat, and come with me. I am 
 going to the garden in which we walked two 
 or three days ago." 
 
 Frank was very glad to hear this. He put 
 on his hat in an instant, and followed his 
 mother, jumping and singing as he went 
 along. 
 
 When he got into the fields which led to 
 the garden with the green gate, Frank ran on 
 before his mother. They came to a stile, 
 upon which a boy, of about Frank's size, was 
 sitting, upon the uppermost step of the stile. 
 He had a hat upon his knees, in which there 
 were some nuts ; and the boy was picking 
 the white kernel of a nut out of its shell. 
 
 When the boy saw Frank, he said to him, 
 " Do you want to get over this stile ? " 
 
 And Frank answered, " Yes, I do." 
 
 The boy then got up from the step of the 
 stile on which he was sitting ; and he jumped
 
 FRANK. 17 
 
 down, and walked on, that he might make 
 room for Frank to get over the stile. 
 
 Frank and his mother got over the stile ; 
 and, in the path in the next field, at a little 
 distance from the stile, Frank saw a fine 
 bunch of nuts. 
 
 "Mamma," said Frank, "I think these 
 nuts belong to that little boy who was sitting 
 upon the stile, with nuts in his hat ; perhaps 
 he dropped them, and did not know it. May 
 I pick them up, and run after the little boy, 
 and give them to him ? " 
 
 His mother said, " Yes, my dear ; and I 
 will go back with you to the boy." So 
 Frank picked up the nuts, and he and his 
 mother went back ; and he called to the little 
 boy, who stopped when he heard him call. 
 
 And as soon as Frank got near to him, and 
 as soon as he had breath to speak, Frank said 
 to the boy, " Here are some nuts, which I 
 believe are yours ; I found them in the path, 
 near that stile." 
 
 " Thank you," said the boy ; " they are 
 mine ; I dropped them there ; and I am much 
 obliged to you for bringing them back to me." 
 
 Frank saw that the boy was glad to have 
 his nuts again ; and Frank was glad that he 
 had found them, and that he had returned 
 them to the person to whom they belonged. 
 
 Frank then went on with his mother ; and 
 they came to the garden with the green gate 
 The gardener was tying the pinks and carna- 
 2*
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tions to white sticks, which he stuck in the 
 ground near them. He did this to prevent 
 he flowers from hanging down in the dirt, 
 and from being broken by the wind. 
 
 Frank told his mother that he thought he 
 could tie up some of these flowers, and that 
 he should like to try to do it. 
 
 She asked the gardener if he would let 
 Frank try to help him. 
 
 The gardener said he would ; and he gave 
 Frank a bundle of sticks, and some strings 
 .jnade of bass mat ; and Frank stuck the sticks 
 in the ground, and tied the pinks and carna- 
 tions to them ; and he said, " Mamma, I am 
 of some use ; " and he was happy whilst he 
 vas employed in this manner. 
 
 After the flowers were all tied up, the gar- 
 dener went to the cherry-tree, which was 
 nailed up against the wall, and he took down 
 the net, which was spread over it. 
 
 Frank asked his mother why this net had 
 oeen spread over it. 
 
 She told him that it was to prevent the 
 oirds from pecking at and eating the cherries. 
 
 The cherries looked very ripe, and the 
 gardener began to gather them. 
 
 Frank asked whether he might help him 
 o gather some of the cherries. 
 
 His mother said, " Yes ; I think the gar- 
 dener will trust you to gather his cherries, 
 Because he has seen that you have not med- 
 dled with any of his things without his leave."
 
 FRANK. 19 
 
 The gardener said that he would trust him ; 
 and Frank was glad ; and he gathered all the 
 cherries that he could reach, that were ripe. 
 
 The gardener desired that he would not 
 gather any that were not ripe ; and his mother 
 showed Frank a ripe and an unripe cherry, 
 that he might know the difference between 
 them ; and she asked the gardener if he would 
 let Frank taste these two cherries, that he 
 might know the difference in the taste. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am," said the gardener ; 
 and Frank tasted the cherries ; and he found 
 that the ripe cherry was sweet, and the un- 
 ripe cherry was sour. 
 
 The gardener told him that the cherries 
 which were now unripe would grow ripe in 
 a few days, if they were left to hang upon 
 the tree, and if the sun shone. 
 
 And Frank said, " Mamma, if you let me 
 come with you here in a few days, I will look 
 at these cherries, that I may see whether they 
 do grow ripe." 
 
 Frank took care to gather only the cherries 
 that were ripe ; and when he had filled the 
 basket into which the gardener asked him to 
 put them, the gardener picked out five or six 
 bunches of the ripest cherries, and he offered 
 them to Frank. 
 
 " May I have them, mamma? " said Frank 
 
 His mother said, " Yes, you may, my dear.' 
 
 Then he took them ; and he thanked the 
 gardener for giving them to him ; and aftei
 
 20 
 
 AHLV LESSONS. 
 
 this, he and his mother left the garden, and 
 returned towards home. 
 
 He asked his mother to eat some of the 
 cherries, and she took one bunch ; and she 
 said that she liked them. 
 
 " And I will keep another bunch for papa," 
 said Frank, " because I know he likes cher- 
 ries." 
 
 And Frank ate all the rest of the cherries, 
 except the bunch which he kept for his fa- 
 ther ; and he said, " I wish, mother, you would 
 give me a little garden, and some mignionette- 
 seeds, to sow in it." 
 
 She answered, " This is not the time of 
 year in which mignionette-seeds should be 
 sown. The seeds will not grow, if you sow 
 them now ; we must wait till spring." 
 
 Frank was going to say, " How many 
 months will it be between this time and 
 spring ? " but he forgot what he was going to 
 say, because he saw a boy in the field in 
 which they were walking, who had some- 
 thing made of white paper in his hand, which 
 was fluttering in the wind. 
 
 " What is that, mamma? " said Frank. 
 
 " It is a paper kite, my dear," said his 
 mother ; " you shall see the boy flying this 
 kite, if you please." 
 
 " I do not know what you mean by flying 
 the kite, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " Look at what the boy is doing, and you 
 will see."
 
 FRANK. '4 1 
 
 Frank looked ; and he saw the paper kite 
 blown up by the wind ; and it mounted up 
 higher than the trees, and went higher and 
 higher, till it seemed to touch the clouds, and 
 till it appeared no larger than a little black 
 spot ; and at last Frank lost sight of it en- 
 tirely. 
 
 The boy who had been flying the kite now 
 ran up to the place where Frank was stand- 
 ing ; and Frank saw that he was the same 
 boy to whom he had returned the nuts. 
 
 The boy held one end of a string in his 
 hand ; and the other end of the string, Frank's 
 mother told him, was fastened to the kite. 
 The boy pulled the string towards him, and 
 wound it up on a bit of wood ; and Frank 
 saw the paper kite again, coming downwards ; 
 and it fell lower, and lower, and lower ; and, 
 at last, it fell to the ground. 
 
 The boy to whom it belonged went to fetch 
 it ; and Frank's mother said, " Now we must 
 make haste and go home." 
 
 Frank followed his mother, asking her 
 several questions about the kite ; and he did 
 not perceive that he had not his bunch of 
 cherries in his hand, till he was near home. 
 When his mother said, " There is your fa- 
 ther coming to meet us," Frank cried, " O 
 mamma, my cherries, the nice bunch of cher- 
 ries, that I kept to give him I have dropped 
 them I have lost them. I am very sorry 
 for it ; may I run back to look for them ? I
 
 82 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 think 1 dropped them whilst I was looking at 
 the kite. May I go back to that field, and 
 look for them ? " 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother ; " it is 
 just dinner-time." 
 
 Frank was sorry for this ; and he looked 
 back towards the field where he lost his cher- 
 ries ; and he saw the boy with the kite in his 
 hand, running very fast across the field near- 
 est to him. 
 
 " I think he seems to be running to us, 
 mamma," said Frank. " Will you wait one 
 minute ? " 
 
 His mother stopped ; and the boy ran up 
 to them, quite out of breath. He held his 
 kite in one hand, and in the other hand he 
 held Frank's bunch of cherries. 
 
 " O, my cherries ! thank you for bringing 
 them to me," said Frank. 
 
 " You seem to be as glad as I was, when 
 you brought me my nuts," said the boy. 
 " You dropped the cherries in the field where 
 I was flying my kite. I knew they were 
 yours, because I saw them in your hand, 
 when you were looking at my kite." 
 
 Frank thanked the boy again for returning 
 them to him ; and his mother also said to the 
 boy, "Thank you, my little honest boy." 
 
 " I was honest, mamma, when I returned 
 his nuts to him ; and he was honest when he 
 returned my cherries. I liked him for being 
 honest, and he liked me for being honest I
 
 FRANK. 
 
 will always be honest about every thing, as 
 well as about nuts." Then Frank ran to 
 meet his father, with the ripe bunch of cher- 
 ries, and gave them to him ; and his father 
 liked them very much. 
 
 The evening after Frank had seen the boy 
 flying a kite, he asked his father if he would 
 be so good as to give him a kite. 
 
 " My dear," said his father, " I am busy 
 now ; I am writing a letter ; and I cannot 
 think about kites now. Do not talk to me 
 about kites, when I am busy." 
 
 When his father had finished writing his 
 letter, he folded it up, and took some sealing- 
 wax to seal it ; and Frank watched the seal- 
 ing-wax, as it was melted by the heat of the 
 candle. He saw that his father let some of 
 the melted sealing-wax drop upon the paper ; 
 and then he pressed the seal down upon the 
 wax, which had dropped upon the paper, and 
 which was then soft. 
 
 When the seal was taken up, Frank saw 
 that there was the figure of the head of a man 
 upon the wax. And he looked at the bottom 
 of the seal ; and he said, " This is the same 
 head that there is upon the wax, only this on 
 the seal goes inwards, and that on the wax 
 comes outwards." 
 
 He touched the wax upon which the seal 
 had been pressed ; and he felt that it was now
 
 24 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 cold and hard ; and he said, " Papa, are you 
 busy now ? " 
 
 And his father said that he was not busy. 
 
 And Frank asked him if he would drop 
 some more wax on a bit of paper, and press 
 the seal down upon it. 
 
 " Yes," said his father ; " you were not 
 troublesome to me, when I said that I was 
 busy. Now I have leisure to attend to you, 
 my dear." 
 
 His father then took out of a drawer three 
 different seals ; and he sealed three different 
 letters with these, and let Frank see him drop 
 the wax upon the paper, and press the seals 
 upon the soft wax. 
 
 " Papa, will you give me leave to try if I 
 can do it myself?" said Frank. 
 
 " My dear," said his father, " I will ; but 1 
 advise you to take care not to let any of the 
 melted wax drop upon your hands, for it will 
 burn you if you do." 
 
 Frank was in a great hurry to melt the wax. 
 His mother called to him, and said, " Gently, 
 Frank, or you will let the wax drop upon 
 your hand, and burn yourself." 
 
 But he said, " O, no, mamma ; it will not 
 burn me." 
 
 And, just after he had said this, a drop of 
 the melted sealing-wax fell upon the forefinger 
 of his hand, and burned him ; and he squeezed 
 his finger as hard as he could, to try to stop 
 the feeling of pain. " It hurts me very much,
 
 FRANK. 25 
 
 mamma ! I wish I had minded what you said 
 to me; but I will not cry I will bear it 
 well." 
 
 " You do bear it well," said his father ; 
 " shake hands with me, with the hand that is 
 not burnt." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards, Frank said that 
 he did not feel the pain any longer ; and he 
 asked his father if he would give him leave to 
 have the sealing-wax again, and try whethei 
 he could not make such a seal as he had seen 
 on his father's letter, without burning himself. 
 " You did not burn yourself, papa," said 
 Frank ; " and if I take care, and do it as you 
 did, I shall not burn myself. May I try 
 again ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said his father ; " and I 
 am glad to see that you wish to try again, 
 though you have had a little pain." 
 
 His father showed him, once more, how to 
 hold the wax to the candle, and how to drop 
 it, when melting, upon the paper, without 
 burning himself. 
 
 And Frank succeeded very well this time, 
 and made a good seal, and showed it to his 
 mother. 
 
 " Is not it a good seal, mamma ? " said he. 
 " I took care not to hold the wax this time as 
 I did the last, when I burned myself." 
 
 "Yes," said his mother, " I dare say you 
 remember how you held it when you burned 
 yourself." 
 
 3
 
 26 KAHLiT LESSONS, 
 
 " O, yes, that I do, mamma ; the pain makes 
 me remember it, I believe." 
 
 " And I dare say you remember how you 
 held the wax, when you made this pretty 
 seal." 
 
 " O, yes, mamma, that I do ; and I shall 
 remember to do it the same way the next 
 time." 
 
 " You have been rewarded for your patience, 
 by having succeeded in making this seal ; 
 and you were punished for your carelessness, 
 by having burned your forefinger." 
 
 Frank remembered that his father desired 
 him not to talk to him about kites when he 
 was busy ; and though Frank was very eager 
 to have a kite, he waited till he saw that hig 
 father was neither reading nor writing, nor 
 talking to any body. Then he said, " Papa, 
 I believe you are not busy now ; will you give 
 me a kite ?" 
 
 "I have not a kite ready made, in my 
 house," replied his father ; " but I will show 
 you how to make one ; and I will give you 
 some paper, and some paste, and some wood, 
 to make it of." Then his father gave him 
 three large sheets of paper ; and his mother 
 rang the bell, and desired the servant would 
 order the cook to make some paste. 
 
 And Frank asked his mother how the cook 
 made paste, and what she would make it of. 
 
 His mother took him by the hand, and 
 said, " You shall see j " and she took Frank
 
 FRANK. 27 
 
 down stairs with her, into the kitchen, where 
 he had never been before; and she staid 
 with him whilst he looked at the manner in 
 which the cook made the paste. 
 
 " What is that white powder, mamma, 
 which the cook is taking up in her hands ? " 
 said Frank. 
 
 "It is called flour,, my dear. You may 
 take some of it in your hand ; and you may 
 taste it." 
 
 " What does it come from, mamma ? " 
 
 " From corn, my dear. You have seen 
 corn growing in the field ; and when we 
 walk out again into the field where there is 
 corn, if you will put me in mind, I will show 
 you the part of the plant from which flour is 
 made." 
 
 " Made, mamma ! how is it made ? " 
 
 " It is ground in a mill ; but. I cannot ex- 
 plain to you, now, what I mean by that. 
 When you see a mill, you will know." 
 
 " I should like to see a mill," said Frank, 
 "now, this minute." 
 
 " But I cannot show it to you, Frank, now, 
 this minute," said his mother ; " besides, you 
 came here to see how paste was made ; and 
 you had better attend to that now." 
 
 Frank attended ; and he saw how paste 
 was made. And when the paste was made, 
 it was left upon a plate to cool. 
 
 Frank, as soon as it was cool enough to ba 
 used, took it to his father, and asked him if
 
 28 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 he might now begin to make his kite ; but 
 his father said, "My dear, I cannot find a 
 slip of wood for you ; and you cannot well 
 make your kite without that ; but I am going 
 to the carpenter's, and I can get such a bit as 
 I want from him. If you wish to come, you 
 may come with me." 
 
 Frank said that he should like to go to the 
 carpenter's ; so his father took him along with 
 him. 
 
 The carpenter lived in a village which 
 was about a mile from Frank's home ; and 
 the way to it was by the turnpike road. 
 
 As he walked along with his father, he 
 saw some men who were lifting up a tree, 
 which they had just cut down. It had been 
 growing in a hedge by the road-side. The 
 men put the tree upon a sort of carriage, and 
 then they dragged the carriage along the 
 road. 
 
 " What are they going to do with this 
 tree, papa ? " said Frank. " Will you ask 
 them ? " 
 
 The men said that they were carrying the 
 tree to the saw-pit, to have it cut into boards. 
 
 They went on a little farther ; and then 
 the men turned up a lane, and dragged the 
 carnage, with the tree upon it, after them ; 
 and Frank told his father that he should 
 like very much to see the saw-pit. 
 
 It was not far off ; and his father went 
 down the lane, and showed it to him.
 
 FRANK. 29 
 
 At the saw-pit, Frank observed how the 
 sawyer sawed wood ; he looked at some 
 boards, which had just been sawed asunder. 
 When the sawyer rested himself, Frank look- 
 ed at the large, sharp teeth of his saw ; and 
 when the sawyer went on with his work, 
 Frank's father asked him to saw slowly ; and 
 Frank observed that the teeth of the saw cut 
 and broke off very small parts of the wood, as 
 the saw was pushed and drawn backwards 
 and forwards. He saw a great deal of yel- 
 low dust in the saw-pit, which his father told 
 him was called saw-dust ; and fresh saw-dust 
 fell from the teeth of the saw as it was 
 moved. 
 
 The men who had brought the tree to be 
 sawed into boards were all this time busy in 
 cutting off, with a hatchet, the small branches ; 
 and Frank turned to look at what they were 
 doing ; but his father said, " Frank, I cannot 
 wait any longer now ; I have business to do 
 at the carpenter's." So Frank followed his 
 father directly ; and they went on, as fast as 
 they could, to the carpenter's. 
 
 When they came to the door of his work- 
 shop, they heard the noise of hammering ; 
 and Frank clapped his hands, and said, " I 
 am glad to hear hammering I shall like to 
 hammer, myself." 
 
 " But," said his father, stopping him, just 
 as he pulled up the latch of the door, " re- 
 member that the hammer in this house is not
 
 30 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 yours ; and you must not meddle with it, nor 
 with any of the carpenter's tools, without his 
 leave." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank, " I know that 1 
 must not meddle with things that are not 
 mine. I did not meddle with any of the 
 flowers, or cherries, in the gardener's nice 
 garden ; and I will not meddle with any of 
 the carpenter's tools." So his father took 
 him into the workshop ; and he saw the 
 bench upon which the carpenter worked, 
 which was called a workbench. Upon it he 
 saw several tools a plane, and a chisel, and 
 a saw, and a gimlet, and a hammer. He did 
 not meddle with any of them ; and after his 
 father had been some time in the workshop, 
 and when he saw that Frank did not touch 
 any of these things, he asked the carpenter 
 to let him touch them, and to show him 
 their use. 
 
 The carpenter, who had observed that 
 Frank had not meddled with any of his tools, 
 readily lent them to him to look at, and, when 
 he had looked at them, showed him their use. 
 He planed a little slip of wood with a plane ; 
 and he bored a hole through it with a gimlet ; 
 and he sloped off the end of it with his chis- 
 el ; and then he nailed it to another piece of 
 wood with nails, which he struck into the 
 wood with his hammer. 
 
 And Frank asked if he might take the 
 hammer and a nail, and hammer it into a bit 
 of wood himself.
 
 FRANK. 
 
 31 
 
 " You may try, if the carpenter will give 
 you leave," said his father. 
 
 So Frank took the hammer, and tried to 
 hammer a nail into a bit of wood. He hit 
 his fingers, instead of the nail, two or three 
 times ; but at last he drove it into the wood ; 
 and he said, " I thought it was much easier 
 to do this, when I saw the carpenter hammer- 
 ing." 
 
 Frank afterwards tried to use the plane, 
 and the saw, which he thought he could 
 manage very easily, but he found that he 
 could not ; and he asked his father what was 
 the reason that he could not do all this, as 
 well as the carpenter.
 
 32 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The carpenter smiled, and said, "I have 
 been learning to do all this, master, a great 
 long while. When I first took a plane in my 
 hand, I could not use it better than you do 
 now." 
 
 " Then perhaps, papa, I may learn to in 
 time. But, papa," said Frank, recollecting 
 his kite, " will you be so good as to ask for 
 the slip of wood for my kite ? " 
 
 His father did so ; and the carpenter found 
 a slip that was just fit for his purpose, and 
 gave it to him ; and his father then desired 
 him not to talk any more ; " for," said he, 
 " we have business to do ; and you must not 
 interrupt us." 
 
 Whilst his father was speaking to the car- 
 penter about his own business, Frank went 
 to the window, to look at it, for it was a dif- 
 ferent sort of window from those which he 
 had been used to see in his father's house. It 
 opened like a door ; and the panes of the 
 glass were very small, and had flat slips of 
 lead all round them. 
 
 Whilst Frank was examining this window, 
 he heard the sound of a horse trotting ; and 
 he looked out, and he saw a horse upon the 
 road which was before the window. 
 
 The horse had a saddle and bridle on, but 
 nobody was riding upon it. It stopped, and 
 ate some grass by the road-side, ard then 
 went down a lane. 
 
 Soon after Frank had seen the horse gc
 
 FRANK. 33 
 
 by, his father, who had finished his business 
 with the carpenter, called to Frank, and told 
 him that he was going home. 
 
 Frank thanked the carpenter for letting 
 him look at the plane, and the saw, and the 
 chisel, and for giving him a slip of wood for 
 his kite ; and he took the bit of wood with 
 him, and followed his father. When his 
 father and he had walked a few yards from 
 the carpenter's door, a man passed by them, 
 who seemed very hot, and very much tired. 
 He looked back at Frank's father, and said, 
 "Pray, sir, did you see a horse go by this 
 way, a little while ago ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I did not," said Frank's father. 
 
 " But I did, papa," said Frank. " I saw 
 a horse going by, upon this road, whilst I 
 was standing, just now, at the carpenter's 
 window." 
 
 " Pray, master, what color was the horse 
 you saw ? " said the man. 
 
 " Black, sir," said Frank. 
 
 " Had he a saddle and a bridle on ? " said 
 the man. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he had," answered Frank. 
 
 "And pray, master," said the man, "will 
 you be so good as to tell me whether he 
 went on upon this road, straight before us, or 
 whether he turned down this lane to the 
 right, or this other lane to the left hand ? " 
 
 As the man spoke, he pointed to the lanes, 
 and Frank answered, " The horse that I saw,
 
 34 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 sir, gallopped down this lane to my right- 
 hand side." 
 
 " Thank you, master," said the man. " I 
 will go after him ; I hope the people at the 
 house, yonder, will stop him. He is as quiet 
 and good a horse as can be, only that, when- 
 ever I leave him by the road-side, without ty- 
 ing him fast by the bridle, he is apt to stray 
 away ; and that is what he has done now." 
 
 The man, after saying this, went down the 
 lane to his right-hand side ; and Frank walked 
 on, with his father. 
 
 The road towards home was up a steep 
 hill, and Frank began to be tired before he 
 had got half way up the hill. 
 
 " It did not tire me so much, papa, as we 
 came down the hill ; but it is very difficult 
 to get up it again." 
 
 " I do not hear all that you are saying," 
 said his father, " you are so far behind me. 
 Cannot you keep up with me ? " 
 
 "No, papa," cried Frank, as loud as he 
 could, " because I am tired. My knees are 
 very much tired, coming up this great hill." 
 
 His father stopped and looked back, and 
 saw that Frank was trying to come up the 
 hill as fast as he could. 
 
 At this time Frank heard the noise of a 
 horse behind him ; and he looked, and saw 
 the man whom he had spoken to a little 
 while before, riding upon the black horse, 
 which he had seen going down the lane.
 
 FRANK. 35 
 
 The man said to him, " Thank you, mas- 
 ler, for telling me which way my horse went. 
 You see I have got him again ; you seem 
 sadly tired ; I will carry you up this hill upon 
 my horse, if you have a mind." 
 
 " I will ask my father if he likes it," said 
 Frank. 
 
 His father said, " Yes, if you please ; " and 
 the man took Frank up, and set him before 
 him, upon the horse, and put his arm round 
 Frank's body, to hold him fast upon the 
 horse. Then the horse walked gently up the 
 hill, and Frank's father walked beside him. 
 And when they came to the top of the steep 
 hill, his father took Frank down from the 
 horse, and he thanked the man for carrying 
 him ; and he felt rested, and able to walk on 
 merrily with his father. 
 
 And as they walked on, he said to his fa- 
 ther, " I am glad that I saw the horse, and 
 observed which way it went, and that I told 
 the man which road it went. You know, 
 papa, there were three roads ; and the man 
 could not know which way the horse went, 
 till I told him. If I had not told him the 
 right road, he would have gone on on^ 
 on, a great way ; and he would have tired 
 himself ; and he would not have found his 
 horse. It would have been very foolish and 
 ill-natmed of me to have done that." 
 
 " Yes, it would," said his father ; " that 
 would have been telling what was not the
 
 36 EARLY LESSENS. 
 
 truth. Now you have seen one of the uses 
 of telling the truth." 
 
 " One of the uses, papa ! Are there more 
 uses, papa ? " 
 
 " Yes, a great many." 
 
 " Will you tell them all to me ? " 
 
 " I would rather that you should find them 
 out for yourself," said his father ; " you will 
 find them all out some time or other." 
 
 Then Frank began to talk about his kite ; 
 and as soon as he got home, his father showed 
 him how to make it, and helped him to do it. 
 And when it was made, he left it to dry ; for 
 the paste, which pasted the paper together, 
 was wet ; and his father told him that it must 
 dry before the paste would hold the paper to- 
 gether, and before the kite was fit to be used. 
 
 Frank left it to dry ; and when it was 
 quite dry, his father told him that he might 
 go out on the grass, in a field near the house, 
 and fly it. 
 
 Frank did so ; and it went up very high in 
 the air ; and it staid up, now higher, now 
 lower, for some time ; and the sun shone 
 upon it, so that it was plainly seen ; and the 
 wind swelled out the sides of it, as Frank 
 pulled it by the middle with the string. 
 
 His mother came to the window, to look 
 at the kite ; and Frank was glad that she saw 
 it, too ; and, when it came down, it fell upon 
 the smooth grass, and it was not torn. Frank 
 carried it into the house, and put it by care-
 
 FRANK. 
 
 37 
 
 
 fully, that it might not be spoiled, and that 
 he might have the pleasure of flying it an- 
 other day ; and he said, " I wish I could find 
 out why the kite goes up ! " 
 
 It was a rainy day, and Frank could not 
 go out to fly his kite ; he amused himself 
 with playing with his horse-chestnuts. He 
 was playing in a room by himself; and, by 
 accident, he threw one of his horse-chestnuts 
 against the window, and it broke a pane of 
 glass. Immediately he ran down stairs, into 
 the room where he knew his mother was, and 
 went up to her. She was speaking to some-
 
 38 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 body, and did not see him ; and he laid his 
 hand upon her arm, to make her attend to 
 him ; and the moment she turned her face to 
 him, he said, " Mamma, I have broken the 
 window in your bed-chamber, by throwing a 
 horse-chestnut against it." 
 
 His mother said, " I am very sorry you 
 have broken my window ; but I am glad, my 
 dear Frank, that you came directly to tell me 
 of it." And his mother kissed him. 
 
 " But how shall I prevent you," said she, 
 " from breaking my window again, with your 
 horse-chestnut ? " 
 
 " I will take care not to break it again, 
 mamma," said Frank. "But you said that 
 you would take care before you broke it to- 
 day ; and yet you see that you have broken 
 it. After you burnt your finger, by letting 
 the hot sealing-wax drop upon it, you took a 
 great deal of care not to do the same thing 
 again ; did not you ? " 
 
 " O, yes, mamma," said Frank, squeezing 
 the finger which he burnt, just as he did at 
 the time he burnt it. " O, yes, mamma, I 
 took a great deal of care not to do the same 
 thing again, for fear of burning myself again." 
 
 " And if you had felt some pain when you 
 broke the window, just now, do you not think 
 that you should take care not to do so again ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma." 
 
 '* Where is the horse-chestnut with which 
 you broke the window ? "
 
 FRANK. 39 
 
 "It is lying upon the floor in your room." 
 
 " Go and fetch it." 
 
 Frank went for it, and brought it to his 
 mother ; and she took it in her hand, and 
 said, " You would be sorry to see this horse- 
 chestnut thrown away ; would not you ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Frank ; " for I like 
 to roll it about, and to play with it ; and it is 
 the only one of my horse-chestnuts that I 
 have left." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " I am afraid that 
 you will break another of my windows with 
 it ; and if you would throw it away, you 
 could not break them with it ; and the pain 
 you would feel, at your horse-chestnut's being 
 thrown away, would make you remember, I 
 think, not to throw hard things against glass 
 windows again." 
 
 Frank stood for a little while, looking at 
 his horse-chestnut ; and then he said, " Well, 
 mamma, I will throw it away ; " and he threw 
 it out of the window. 
 
 Some days afterwards, his mother called 
 Frank to the table where she was at work ; 
 and she took out of her work-basket two 
 leather balls, and gave them to Frank ; one 
 of them was very hard, and the other was 
 very soft. 
 
 His mother desired that he would play with 
 the soft ball when he was in the house, and 
 with the hard ball when he was out of doors. 
 She said that she had made the soft ball on
 
 4U EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 purpose for him, that he might have one to 
 play with when it was rainy weather, and 
 when he could not go out. 
 
 This soft ball was stuffed with horse-hair ; 
 it was not stuffed tight ; Frank could squeeze 
 it together with his fingers; and his mother 
 threw it against the window, and it bounded 
 back without breaking the glass. 
 
 Frank thanked his mother ; and he liked 
 the two balls very much. And his mother 
 said to him, "You have not broken any more 
 windows, Frank, since you punished yourself 
 by throwing away your horse-chestnut ; and 
 now I am glad to reward you for your truth 
 and good sense." 
 
 About a week after Frank's mother had 
 given him the two balls, she came into the 
 room where he had been playing at ball. 
 Nobody had been in the room with him till 
 his mother came in ; she had a large nose- 
 gay of pinks and carnations in her hand 
 " Look here, Frank," said she ; " the garden- 
 er, who lives at the garden with the green 
 gate, has brought these pinks and carnations, 
 and has given them to me ; he says they 
 are some of those which you helped him to 
 tie up." 
 
 " O, they are very prstty ! they are very 
 sweet ! " said Frank, smelling to them, as his 
 mother held them towards him. " May I
 
 FRANK. 41 
 
 help you, mamma, to put them into the 
 flower-pot ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; bring the flower-pot to 
 me, which stands on that little table, and we 
 will put these flowers into it." 
 
 She sat down ; and Frank ran to the little 
 table for the flower-pot. 
 
 " There is no water in it, mamma," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " But we can put some in," said his moth- 
 er " Well ! why do not you bring it 
 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I am afraid to 
 take it up, for here is a great large crack all 
 down the flower-pot ; and when I touched it, 
 just now, it shook. It seems quite loose ; 
 and I think it will fall to pieces, if I take 
 it in my hands." 
 
 His mother then came to the little table, by 
 which Frank was standing ; and she looked 
 at the flower-pot, and saw that it was cracked 
 through, from top to bottom ; and the mo- 
 ment she took it in her hands, it fell to pieces. 
 
 " This flower-pot was not broken yester- 
 day evening," said his mother ; "I remember 
 seeing it without any crack in it yesterday 
 evening, when I took the dead mignionette 
 out of it." 
 
 " So do I, mamma ; I was by at that time." 
 
 " I do not ask you, my dear Frank," said 
 his mother, " whether you broke this flower- 
 pot ; I think, if you had broken it, you would 
 4
 
 42 JKARLY LESSONS. 
 
 come and tell me, as you did when you broke 
 the pane of glass in this window." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, eagerly look- 
 ing up in his mother's face, " I did not break 
 this flower-pot ; I have not meddled with it ; 
 I have been playing with my soft ball, as 
 you desired ; look, here is my soft ball," said 
 he ; "this is what I have been playing with, 
 all this morning." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " I be- 
 lieve you. You told me truth before, about 
 the window that you broke." 
 
 Frank's father came into the room at this 
 moment ; and Frank asked him if he had 
 broken or cracked the flower-pot. 
 
 He said, " No, I have not ; I know nothing 
 about it." 
 
 Frank's mother rang the bell, and, when 
 the maid-servant came up, asked the maid 
 whether she had cracked the flower-pot. 
 
 The maid answered, "No, madam, I did 
 not." And after she had given this answer, 
 the maid left the room. 
 
 "Now, my dear Frank," said his father, 
 " you see what an advantage it is to speak 
 the truth ; because I know that you told the 
 truth about the window which you broke, 
 and about the horse which you said you had 
 seen going down the lane, I cannot help be- 
 lieving that you speak the truth now. I be- 
 lieve that you did not break this flower-pot, 
 because you say that you did not."
 
 FRANK. 43 
 
 " But, papa," said Frank, " I wish that the 
 person who did crack it would tell you. or 
 mamma, that they cracked it, because then 
 you would be quite sure that I did not do it. 
 Do you think the maid did it? " 
 
 " No, I do not ; because she says she did 
 not ; and I have always found that she tells 
 the truth." 
 
 Frank's mother, whilst he was speaking, 
 was looking at the broken pieces of the 
 flower-pot ; and she observed that, near the 
 place where it was cracked, one side of the 
 flower-pot was blackened ; and she rubbed 
 the black, and it came off easily ; and she 
 said, " This looks as if it had been smoked." 
 
 " But smoke comes from the fire," said 
 Frank ; " and there has been no fire in this 
 room, mamma." 
 
 " And did you never see smoke come from 
 any thing but from the fire in the fire- 
 place? " 
 
 " Not that I remember, mamma," said 
 
 Frank " O yes, I have seen smoke, a 
 
 great deal of smoke, come from the spout 
 of the tea-kettle, and from the top of the 
 urn." 
 
 " That is not smoke," said his father; 
 " but I will tell you more about that another 
 time. Cannot you recollect seeing smoke 
 come from " 
 
 " From what, papa ? " 
 
 " Last night you saw smoke coming 
 from "
 
 44 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 "O, now I recollect from the candle, 
 papa," said Frank. 
 
 " And now I recollect," said Frank's fathei, 
 " that, late last night, I was sealing a letter 
 at this little table ; and I remember that I left 
 the green wax candle burning very near this 
 flower-pot, whilst I went out of the room, to 
 give the letter, which I had been sealing, to 
 a man who was waiting for it. When I 
 came back again, I put out the candle ; I did 
 not observe that the flower- pot was smoked, 
 or cracked ; but I now think it is very prob- 
 able that the heat of that candle cracked 
 it." 
 
 "Let us look whether there is any melted 
 green wax," said Frank, " upon the pieces of 
 the flower-pot ; because wax, when it was 
 melting, might drop upon the flower-pot, as 
 it did upon my fingers once." 
 
 Frank examined all the pieces of the 
 flower-pot, and on one bit, near the place 
 where it was blackened with smoke, he 
 found a round spot of green wax. 
 
 " Then," said his father, " I am now pret- 
 ty sure that it was I who was the cause of 
 cracking the flower-pot, by putting the light- 
 ed candle too near it." 
 
 "I am very glad we have found out 
 the truth," said Frank ; " and now, papa," 
 added he, " will you be so good as to tell me 
 about the smoke no, not the smoke, but 
 the thing that looks so like smoke, which
 
 FRANK. 45 
 
 comes out of the top of the urn, and out of 
 the spout of the tea-kettle ? " 
 
 " I have not time to explain it to you now, 
 Frank," said his father ; " but if I am noi 
 busy at tea-time, this evening, you may put 
 me in mind of it again." And at tea- 
 time his father showed him the difference be- 
 tween smoke and steam. 
 
 " The bread, mamma, is very good this 
 morning," said Frank, one morning at break- 
 fast. 
 
 " It is new bread." 
 
 " New bread, mamma ! What is meant by 
 new bread ? " 
 
 " Bread that has been newly made. ' 
 
 " Bread is made of flour, I remember you 
 
 told me, mamma, and flour comes from O 
 
 mamma, do not you recollect telling me that, 
 some time or other, you would show me corn 
 growing in the fields ? When we walk out this 
 morning, I will put you in mind of it again." 
 
 And when he walked out with his mother 
 in the fields, Frank put her in mind of it 
 again ; and she said, " I see some men at 
 work, yonder, in a cornfield ; let us go and 
 see what they are doing." So they went to 
 the field ; and Frank's mother showed him 
 some corn growing; and she showed him 
 some that had been cut down ; she showed 
 him some that was ripe, and some that was
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 riot ripe. And then they walked farther on, 
 to the part of the field where the men were 
 at work. 
 
 Frank saw that they had a kind of sharp, 
 bright hooks in their hands, with which they 
 were cutting down the corn. His mother 
 told him that these hooks are called reaping- 
 hooks, or sickles. 
 
 He saw that, after the corn was cut down, 
 the men tied up bundles of it, which they set 
 upright in the field, at regular distances from 
 each other. His mother told him that each 
 of these bundles was called a sheaf of corn ; 
 and she pulled out a single stalk, and put it 
 into his hand, and said, " This is called an
 
 FRANK. 47 
 
 ear of com ; what grows upon a single stalk 
 is called an ear of corn." 
 
 Whilst Frank was looking at the men tying 
 up the sheaves of corn, a person came up to 
 him, and said, " You are welcome, here, mas- 
 ter You are he that was so good as to 
 
 tell me which road my horse strayed some 
 time ago." 
 
 Frank looked in the face of the person 
 who was speaking to him ; and he recollected 
 this to be the man who carried him up the 
 steep hill, upon his horse. 
 
 This man was a farmer ; and he was now 
 overlooking some laborers, who were reaping 
 his corn. He pointed to a small house, 
 amongst some trees at a little distance ; and 
 he told Frank's mother that he lived in that 
 house ; and that, if she would like to walk 
 there, he could show Frank how the men 
 were threshing some co^rn in his barn. 
 
 Frank's mother thanked the farmer ; and 
 they walked to his house. It was a thatched, 
 whitewashed house, and it looked very neat. 
 There were some scarlet flowers in the kitch- 
 en garden, which looked very pretty. As 
 they passed through the garden, Frank asked 
 the name of these flowers ; and his mother 
 told him that these were called scarlet run- 
 ners ; and she said to him, " On this kind of 
 plant grow kidney beans, of which you are 
 so fond, Frank." 
 
 Frank saw cabbages, and cauliflowers, and
 
 18 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 lettuce, in this garden ; but his mother said. 
 " Come, Frank, you must not keep us wait- 
 ing ; " and he followed his mother through a 
 yard, where there were a great number of 
 ducks, and fowl, and geese, and turkeys ; and 
 they made a great noise ; and several of them 
 clapped their white wings ; and the geese and 
 turkeys stretched out their long necks. 
 
 " You need not squeeze my hand so tight, 
 Frank," said his mother ; " you need not 
 squeeze yourself up so close to me ; these 
 geese and turkeys will not do you any harm, 
 though they make so much noise." 
 
 So Frank walked on stoutly ; and he 
 found that the geese and turkeys did not hurt
 
 FKANK. 
 
 49 
 
 him ; and when he had crossed this yard, the 
 farmer led them through a gate, into a large 
 yard, where there were ricks of hay ; and 
 there were several cows in this yard ; and, as 
 he passed by them, Frank observed that their 
 breath smelt very sweet. 
 
 " Come this way, into the barn," said the 
 farmer ; " here are the men who are thresn- 
 ing." 
 
 The barn, on the inside, looked like a large 
 room, with rough walls, and no ceiling ; but 
 it had a floor. Two men were at work in 
 this barn ; they were beating some corn, that 
 *ay upon the floor, with long sticks ; they 
 made a great noise, as they struck the floor 
 with their sticks ; so that Frank could neither 
 5
 
 50 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 make his mother hear what he said, nor could 
 he hear her voice. 
 
 The sticks seemed to be half broken in 
 two, in the middle ; and they seemed to swing 
 with great violence, as the men struck with 
 them ; and Frank was afraid that the sticks 
 should reach to where he stood, and would 
 hit him ; but, after he had been in the barn 
 for a little while, he became less afraid ; he 
 observed that the sticks did not swing within 
 reach of him. 
 
 The farmer asked the men to stop working ; 
 and they stopped ; and the farmer took one 
 of the things, with which they had been 
 working, out of their hands, and showed it 
 to Frank. 
 
 His mother told him that it was called a 
 flail. It was made of two sticks, tied to- 
 gether with a bit of leather. 
 
 The farmer showed Frank the corn, which 
 lay upon the floor ; and his mother showed 
 him, that the loose, outside cover of the corn, 
 was beaten off by the strokes of the flail. 
 
 The farmer said, " You may take some of 
 the corn, master, in your hand ; and some of 
 the chaff; and then you will see the difference." 
 
 The chaff was the outside covering. 
 
 " And how is this corn made into bread ? " 
 said Frank. 
 
 " O. master," said the farmer, " a great 
 deal must be done to it, before it is made into 
 bread. It must go to the mill, to be ground."
 
 FRANK. 51 
 
 " I should like to see the mill, mamma," 
 said Frank ; " but I do not know what he 
 means by to be ground." 
 
 " That you will see, when you go to the 
 mill." 
 
 " Shall we go to the mill now, mamma ? " 
 said Frank. 
 
 " No, my dear," said his mother; " I would 
 rather that you should wait till some day 
 when your father can have time to go with 
 you to the mill ; because he can explain it to 
 you much better than I could." 
 
 Then Frank and his mother thanked the 
 farmer for what he had shown them ; and 
 they had a pleasant walk home. 
 
 " Ah, spare yon emmet, rich in hoarded grain : 
 He lives with pleasure, and he dies with pain." * 
 
 Frank was always careful not to hurt in- 
 sects, nor any sort of animals. He liked to 
 observe spiders in their webs, and ants carry- 
 ing their white loads, but he never teased 
 them ; even those animals which he did not 
 thmk were pretty, he took care not to hurt. 
 
 One evening, when he was walking with 
 his father and mother upon a gravel -walk 
 near the house, he saw several black snails 
 He did not think them pretty animals, but, 
 whenever he came near one, he took care not 
 to tread upon it. He stooped down to look 
 
 * Sir William Jones.
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 at one of these black snails, which was 
 drawing in its black horns. 
 
 " I believe, mamma," said Frank, " that it 
 drew in those horns, because he is afraid I 
 am going to hurt him." 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 " But that is foolish of the snail, mamma, 
 because you know I am not going to hurt it." 
 
 " I know that, Frank; but*how should the 
 snail know it ? " 
 
 " He lies quite still ; he will not put out 
 his black horns again ; I will go away and 
 leave him, that I may not frighten him any 
 more. I should riot like to be frightened my- 
 self, if I was a snail," said Frank. So he 
 ran on, before his father and mother, and left 
 the snail ; and he saw some pretty brown and 
 green moss upon a bank ; and he asked his 
 mother if he might gather some of it. 
 
 She said, " Yes ; " and he climbed up the 
 bank ; and he gathered some of the moss ; 
 and in the moss, at the foot of a tree, he 
 found a pretty shell. It was striped with 
 purple, and green, and straw color, and white ; 
 and it was smooth, and very shining. He 
 got down from the bank, as fast as he coulti ; 
 and he ran, and asked his mother if he might 
 keep this pretty shell, and carry it into the 
 house, when he came home from walking. 
 
 His mother looked at the shell, as Frank 
 held it upon the palm of his hand ; and she 
 told him that he might have it ; and that he
 
 FRANK. 53 
 
 might carry it into the house with him, when 
 he went home ; and she told him that it was 
 a snail-shell. 
 
 " A snail-shell, mamma ! " said Frank. "I 
 never saw such a pretty snail-shell before ; I 
 am glad I have found it ; and I will take care 
 not to break it." 
 
 Frank held it carefully in his hand, during 
 the rest of his walk ; and he often looked at 
 it, to see that it was safe ; and just as he came 
 near the hall door, he opened his hand, and 
 began to count the. number of colored rings 
 upon his snail-shell. " One, two, three, four, 
 five rings, mamma," said Frank ; " and the 
 rings seem to wind round and round the shell. 
 They are larger at the bottom ; and they 
 grow less and less, as they wind up to 
 the top." 
 
 " That is called a spiral line," said his fa- 
 ther, pointing to the line which, as Frank 
 said, seemed to wind round and round the 
 shell. 
 
 As Frank was looking with attention at 
 the shell, he felt something cold, clammy, and 
 disagreeable touching his hand, at the bottom 
 of the shell ; and with his other hand he wa.. 
 going to lift up the shell, to see what this 
 was ; but when he touched it, he found that 
 it stuck to his hand ; and, a few instants af- 
 terwards, he saw the snail-shell seemed to 
 r ise up ; and he perceived the horns and head 
 of a snail, peeping out from beneath the shell.
 
 54 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " O, mamma ! there is a living snail in this 
 shell. Look at it," said Frank. " Look ! it 
 has crawled out a great deal farther now ; and 
 it carries its shell upon its back. It is very 
 curious ; but I wish it was crawling any- 
 where but upon my hand ; for I do not like 
 the cold, sticky feeling of it." 
 
 Frank was then going to shake the snail 
 from his hand ; but he recollected that, if he 
 let it fall suddenly upon the stone steps, he 
 might hurt the animal, or break the pretty 
 shell ; therefore he did not shake it off; but 
 he put his hand down, gently, to the stone 
 step ; and the snail crawled off his hand, upon 
 the stone. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I think the snail 
 might do without that pretty shell ; you gave 
 the shell to me, mamma. May I pull it off 
 the snail's back ? " 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " I did not 
 know that there was a snail in that shell, 
 when I said that you might have it. I would 
 not have given it to you, if I had known that 
 there was a snail withinside of it. You can- 
 not pull the shell from the snail's back, with- 
 out hurting the animal, or breaking the shell." 
 
 " I do not wish to hurt the animal," said 
 Frank ; " and I am sure I do not wish to 
 break the pretty shell;- so I will not pull it. 
 But, mamma, I think I had better take the 
 snail and snail-shell, both together, into the
 
 FRANK. 05 
 
 house, and keep them in my little red box, 
 mamma ; what do you think ? " 
 
 " I think, my dear, that the snail would 
 not be so happy in your little red box as it 
 would be in the open air, upon the grass, or 
 upon the leaves which it usually eats." 
 
 " But, mamma, I would give it leaves to 
 eat in the little red box." 
 
 " But, Frank, you do not know what leaves 
 it likes best to eat ; and if you do not shut it 
 up in your red box, it will find the leaves for 
 itself which it loves best." 
 
 " Then, if you do not think it would be 
 happy in my red box, mamma, I will not shut 
 it up in it ; I will leave it to go where it 
 pleases, with its own pretty shell upon its 
 back. That is what I should like, if I was 
 a snail, I believe." 
 
 He then took the snail, and put it upon the 
 grass, and left it ; and he went into the house 
 with his mother, and she called him into her 
 room ; and she took out of her bureau some- 
 thing which she held to Frank's ear, and he 
 heard a noise like the sound of water boiling ; 
 then she put into Frank's hand what she had 
 held to his ear ; and he saw that it was a 
 large shell, speckled red, and brown, and 
 white ; it was so large, that his little fingers 
 could hardly grasp it. 
 
 " Do you like it as well as you did the 
 snail-shell ? " 
 
 " O, yes, a great deal better, mamma."
 
 56 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Then I give it to you, my dear," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Keep it," said his father ; " and, even if 
 you keep it till you are as old as I am, you 
 will feel pleasure when you look at it ; for 
 you will recollect that your mother was 
 pleased with you when she gave it to you, 
 because you had been good-natured to a poor 
 little snail."
 
 PRANK. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 " WHAT was it, mamma," said Frank, 
 " that papa was saying to you, just after you 
 were looking at the snail ? " 
 
 " I do not recollect, my dear." 
 
 " I wish you could be so good as to try 
 to recollect, mamma, because it sounded 
 very pretty; and I should like lo hear it 
 again. It seemed like something out of a 
 book ; it was something about horned snails, 
 and varnished shells, and sliding " 
 
 " Do you mean, 
 
 ' Slide here, ye horned snails with varnished shells ' 1 " 
 
 " O, yes, mamma ! " cried Frank, " that is 
 what I mean ; but papa said a great deal more 
 of it. Will you say it for me ? " 
 
 " I will repeat the lines, that you may hear 
 the agreeable sound, but I do not think that 
 you can understand the sense of them yet," 
 said his mother ; and she repeated to him the 
 following lines : 
 
 " ' Stay thy soft, murmuring waters, gentle rill 5 
 
 Hush, whispering winds ; ye rustling leaves, be still
 
 58 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Rest, silver butterflies, your quivering wings ; 
 Alight, ye beetles, from your airy rings ; 
 Ye painted moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl, 
 Bow your wide horns, your spiral trunks uncurl ; 
 Glitter, ye glowworms, on your mossy beds ; 
 Descend, ye spiders, on your lengthened threads ; 
 Slide here, ye horned snails with varnished shells ; 
 Ye bee-nymphs, listen in your waxen cells.' " 
 
 " I do not understand the last line, mam- 
 ma, at all ; but I understand about the spiders 
 coming down on their long threads ; I have 
 often looked at spiders doing that. But, 
 mamma, I never saw any moths that had 
 trunks; I do not think that a moth could 
 carry a trunk." 
 
 " What do you think is meant by a trunk, 
 my dear ? " 
 
 " A sort of box." 
 
 " That is one meaning of the word trunk. 
 Do you know any other meaning ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a trunk of a tree." 
 
 " And did you never see the picture of the 
 trunk of an elephant ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, mamma, I remember seeing 
 that; and I remember you read to me an 
 account of the elephant ; and you told me he 
 could curl up that trunk of his. But, mam- 
 ma, such moths as I have seen are little fly- 
 ing animals, about as large as a butterfly ; 
 they could not have such trunks as elephants 
 have." 
 
 " No, they have not ; they have not such 
 large trunks." 
 
 " Will you tell me what sort of trunks 
 they have ? "
 
 FRANK. 59 
 
 " I will show you, the first time we see a 
 moth." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma ; and I wish you 
 3otild show me a glowworm. I have seen a 
 beetle; but, mamma, will you say that part 
 about the beetle again ? " 
 
 " ' Alight, ye beetles, from your airy rings.' " 
 
 11 What does that mean, mamma ? " 
 
 " Beetles sometimes fly round and round 
 in the air, so as to make the shape of circles 
 or rings in the air; and alight, here, means, 
 come down from alight or settle upon the 
 ground." 
 
 " And silver butterflies, mamma, does not 
 mean, made of silver, but that they look 
 shining, like silver ; does not it ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 " But I wish very much, mamma, to see 
 the glowworms that lie on the mossy beds." 
 
 " I will try if I can find a glowworm, and 
 show it to you this evening," said his mother. 
 
 In the evening, when it was dusk, Frank's 
 mother called him, and bid him follow her; 
 and she went down a lane that was near her 
 house ; and Frank followed her. She looked 
 from side to side, on the banks, and imdei 
 the hedges, as she walked along. 
 
 " Are you looking for a glowworm, mam- 
 ma ? " said Frank. " It is so dark, now, that 
 I am afraid we shall not see it, unless it is a 
 great deal larger than a common worm, or
 
 60 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 unless we had a lantern. May I go back for 
 the little lantern that is in the hall ? There is 
 a candle ready lighted in it, mamma. May I 
 go back for it, mamma ? " 
 
 " No, my dear ; we shall not want a lantern, 
 nor a candle. We shall be more likely to 
 find a glowworm in the dark than if we had 
 a candle." 
 
 Frank was surprised at hearing his mother 
 say this. " I can always find things better in 
 the light than in the dark," said he. But, 
 just as he finished speaking, he saw a light 
 upon the bank, near the place where his moth' 
 er was standing ; and she called to him, and 
 said, " Here is a glowworm, Frank ; como 
 nearer to me, and you will see it better." 
 
 Frank kneeled down upon the bank, be- 
 side his mother ; and saw that the light seem- 
 ed to come from the tail of a little brown 
 caterpillar. 
 
 The caterpillar crawled on, upon the bank ; 
 and the light moved on whenever the cater- 
 pillar moved, and stood still whenever it 
 stood still. 
 
 Frank's mother, whilst the glowworm was 
 standing still, put her hand down upon the 
 bank, close beside it ; and, by and by, the 
 glowworm began to move again, and it 
 crawled upon her hand. 
 
 " O mamma! take care," cried Frank. " It 
 will burn you." 
 
 " No, my dear, it will not burn me ; it will
 
 FRANK. 61 
 
 not hurt me," said his mother ; and she held 
 her hand towards Frank ; and he saw the 
 glowworm upon it. 
 
 " Shall I put it in your hand ? " said his 
 mother. Frank drew back, as if he was still 
 a little afraid that it should burn him. 
 
 " My dear," said his mother, " it will not 
 hurt you. You know that I would not tell 
 you that it would not hurt you if it would. 
 You know that I told you the hot, melting 
 sealing-wax would scald you, if you let it 
 drop upon your fingers ; and it did. But I 
 tell you that the light, which you see about 
 this animal, will not .burn you, as the flame 
 of a candle or as the fire would." 
 
 " Then, here is my hand, mamma. Put 
 the glowworm upon it ; and I will not shrink 
 back again," said Frank. 
 
 He found that the light from the glow- 
 worm did not hurt him, in the least ; and he 
 asked his mother how it came that this, 
 which looked so much like the flame of a 
 candle, should not burn him. But she an- 
 swered, " I cannot explain that to you, my 
 dear." And when Frank had looked at the 
 glowworm as long as he liked to do so, his 
 mother desired him to put it again on the 
 bank ; and he did so ; and, before they got 
 home, Frank saw several other glowworms 
 upon the banks ; and his mother said to him ; 
 " Now you know the meaning of 
 
 ' Glitter, ye glowworms, on your mossy beds.' "
 
 62 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Yes," said Frank; "glitter means, look 
 bright, shine. Thank you, mamma, foi 
 showing me these glowworms ; and, some 
 time or other, I hope we shall see the trunk 
 of a moth." 
 
 The candles were lighted; and all the 
 window-shutters in the room were shut, ex- 
 cept the shutters of one window, which was 
 left open to let in the air ; for it was a warm 
 evening. 
 
 Frank's mother was sitting upon a sofa, 
 reading ; and Frank was kneeling upon a 
 chair, at the table upon which the candle 
 stood. He was looking at some prints in- a 
 book which his mother had lent to him. 
 
 Through the window, which was open, 
 there flew into the room a large moth. It 
 flew towards the candle. 
 
 " O mamma ! here is a moth," cried Frank. 
 
 As he spoke, the moth, which had flown 
 very quickly round and round the candle 
 two or three times, went so close to the 
 flame, that Frank thought it would burn itself 
 to death ; and he cried, " O, it will burn 
 itself." And he put his hand before his eyes, 
 that he might not see the moth burn itself. 
 But his mother did not put her hands be- 
 fore her eyes ; she got up as quickly as possi- 
 ble, and put her hand gently over the moth, 
 and caught it ; and so prevented it from 
 burning itself in the candle.
 
 FRANK. 63 
 
 " I am glad you have caught it, mamma," 
 said Frank; " and the next time I will try to 
 catch it, as you did ; and I will not put my 
 hands before my eyes, because that did the 
 moth no good." 
 
 His mother then covered the moth with a 
 glass tumbler ; and she put it upon the table ; 
 and Frank looked through the glass ; and he 
 saw it plainly. 
 
 When the moth was quiet, Frank's mother 
 took a honey-suckle out of her nosegay ; and 
 she lifted up one side of the tumbler, a little 
 way from the table ; and she squeezed the 
 honey-suckle under the tumbler ; and as soon 
 as the moth perceived the flower was near 
 him, he walked upon it ; and Frank saw him 
 uncurl what is called his trunk, or proboscis ; 
 and he saw the moth dip it into part of the 
 flower of the honey-suckle. And he saw also 
 what were called the horns of the moth ; and 
 he saw the animal bow them forwards ; and 
 he said, " Now, mamma, will you repeat those 
 two lines about the moth again for me ? " 
 
 " ' Ye painted moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl ; 
 Bow your wide horns, your spiral trunks uncurl.'" 
 
 " Painted! " said Frank ; " it does not mean 
 that the moth is painted, I suppose, but that 
 it looks as if it was painted. Gold-eyed 
 plumage, mamma ! What does that mean ? " 
 
 "Plumage means feathers, such as you see 
 on birds. Look through this glass," said his 
 mother, putting a magnifying-glass into his 
 hand.
 
 64 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " 1 have looked through this glass before, 
 at a caterpillar, mamma ; it makes things look 
 larger." 
 
 His mother lifted up the tumbler, gently ; 
 and, as the moth was settled upon the honey- 
 suckle, Frank looked through the rnagnifying- 
 glass at it. 
 
 " Mamma, it looks very large ; and upon its 
 wings," said Frank, " I see what look like 
 very, very small feathers." 
 
 " That is what is meant by plumage." 
 
 11 But gold-eyed, mamma ! I see no gold 
 eyes." 
 
 " Do you see some spots upon the wings ? " 
 
 " Dark-brown spots, mamma? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " They are of the shape of eyes ; and, 
 though they are not eyes, they are called so, 
 from their shape. In some moths, those spots 
 are yellow, gold-colored ; and then they may 
 be called gold-eyed." 
 
 " One thing more, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " What does it mean by Would you 
 
 be so good as to say the last line again ? for I 
 do not recollect the word that I did not un- 
 derstand." 
 
 His mother repeated the line again 
 
 " ' Ye painted moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl.' " 
 
 " Furl, mamma ; furl is the word that I do 
 not understand." His mother showed him a 
 fan, and showed him what is meant by to
 
 FRANK. 65 
 
 furl, and to unfurl^ a fan ; and when the moth 
 closed, and afterwards spread, its wings, she 
 said, " Now he is furling, and now he is un- 
 furling, his pretty wings. And now I think 
 we have kept him long enough under this 
 glass ; we will now let him fly about where 
 he pleases." So she took the moth, and let 
 him fly out of the window. 
 
 " Do you know, mamma," said Frank, 
 " that I can repeat those two lines about the 
 moths ? I wish you would say the other lines 
 again for me, that I might learn them all, and 
 then say them to my father. I think he 
 would like to hear me say them, after dinner, 
 to-morrow, mamma." 
 
 " I think your father will like to hear you 
 repeat them, if you understand them all ; but 
 not otherwise." 
 
 "I think I do understand them all every 
 one now, mamma, except something in the 
 last line about bees in their waxen cells." 
 
 " You never saw a honey-comb, did you, 
 Frank ? " 
 
 " No, mamma, never." 
 
 " When you see a honey-comb, you will 
 know what is meant by the waxen cells in 
 which bees live." 
 
 The next morning at breakfast, there was 
 part of a honey-comb upon a plate, on the 
 breakfast-table ; and Frank's mother showed 
 6
 
 66 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 it to him ; and she gave him some honey. 
 He liked the sweet taste of the honey ; and 
 he thought the honey-comb was very pretty. 
 
 His mother gave him a little bit of the 
 honey-comb, which she told him was made 
 of wax. 
 
 " It is quite a different sort of wax from 
 sealing-wax, mamma," said Frank. " Where 
 does this wax come from ; and this pretty 
 honey-comb, and this sweet honey ? " 
 
 His mother told him that she would show 
 him where they all came from, when she had 
 finished eating her breakfast. And, after 
 breakfast was over, she took Frank with her 
 to a cottage, belonging to an old woman in 
 the neighborhood. 
 
 The old woman was sitting at her door, 
 turning a small wheel very quickly round, 
 which Frank's mother told him was called a 
 spinning-wheel. 
 
 The old woman pushed her spinning-wheel 
 on one side, and got up, as soon as they came 
 to her door. 
 
 " Thank you for the good honey you sent 
 us, Mrs. Wheeler," said Frank's mother. 
 
 " You are heartily welcome, ma'am, I am 
 sure," said the old woman ; "but it was not I 
 that sent it ; it was my grandson sent it to 
 you George! George! are you there?" 
 
 A little boy came running to the door ; and 
 he smiled when he saw Frank ; and Frank 
 smiled when he saw him ; for he recollected
 
 FRANK. 
 
 67 
 
 that this was the same boy to whom he had 
 returned the nuts which he had found drop- 
 ped near the stile the same boy who had 
 brought him back his ripe bunch of cherries. 
 
 " Thank you for the honey you sent us," 
 said Frank's mother to this boy ; " will you 
 be so good as to let us look at your bee-hive ? 
 I hear that you have a glass bee-hive." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I have," said the boy ; "and 
 if you will be pleased to come with me into 
 the garden, I will show it to you. I have a 
 glass bee-hive and a straw bee-hive." 
 
 Frank and his mother followed the boy.
 
 68 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 who ran across a narrow passage, which went 
 straight through the house ; and he opened a 
 low gate, and took them into a small garden. 
 
 The paths were narrow ; and he said to 
 Frank, " Take care that you do not prick 
 yourself against the gooseberry-bushes, as I 
 do, when I am in a hurry to get by." 
 
 Frank took care not to prick himself; and 
 the boy pointed to his bee-hives, and said, 
 " There are my bee-hives ; and there are my 
 bees." 
 
 " Did bees make that straw basket ? " said 
 Frank.
 
 FRANK. 69 
 
 The boy laughed so much at this question 
 that he could make no answer ; but Frank's 
 mother answered, " No, my dear ; the bee? 
 did not make that straw basket ; that was 
 made by men ; but go and look in, through 
 the little pane of glass in that wooden box, 
 and you will see what bees make." 
 
 " Do not you know," said the little boy, 
 " what bees make ? I thought that every body 
 knew that bees make honey and wax." 
 
 " How can they make honey ? What do 
 they make it of? " said Frank. 
 
 " They collect it ; they get it from flow- 
 ers," answered his mother : and she said to 
 the boy, " May I gather this honey-suckle ? " 
 touching a honey-suckle which grew in an 
 arbor, close beside the place where she stood. 
 
 " Yes, and welcome, ma'am," said the 
 boy; "that honey-suckle is mine; grand- 
 mother gave it to me." 
 
 When Frank's mother had gathered the 
 honey-suckle, she pulled off a part of the 
 flower ; and she held that end of the flower 
 which grew next the stalk to Frank's mouth ; 
 and she bid him suck it. 
 
 He sucked it. 
 
 " It has a sweet taste, like honey," said 
 Frank. " Is that the reason the flower is 
 called honey-suckle, mamma?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear, I believe it is." 
 
 " And have all flowers honey in them 
 mamma ? "
 
 70 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " I do not know, my dear ; but I know 
 ihat some flowers have more honey in them 
 than others." 
 
 "And how do bees get honey from 
 flowers? " 
 
 " Look, and you may see a bee now set- 
 tling upon that honey-suckle in the arbor; 
 you will see all that I have seen, if you use 
 your own little eyes." 
 
 Frank used his own little eyes ; and he 
 saw that the bee stretched out its proboscis, 
 or trunk, and put it down into the flower ; 
 then drew it back again, and flew to another 
 part of the flower; settled again, and again 
 put down its proboscis ; drew it back, and 
 put it to its mouth. 
 
 " I fancy, mamma, the bee sucks the honey 
 which it gets in the flower, from its probos- 
 cis, every time it puts it to its mouth ; but I 
 am not sure, because I do not see the honey." 
 
 " You are very right not to say that you 
 are sure of it, as you do not see it ; but I be- 
 lieve that the bee does, as you say, draw 
 the honey from flowers with that proboscis ; 
 and then he puts the honey into his mouth, 
 and then swallows the honey. With a good 
 magnifying-glass, you might see that the 
 proboscis of the bee is rough, and you might 
 see the little drops of honey sticking to it. 
 The bee gets but one or two very small drops 
 Df honey from one flower." 
 
 " What a great deal of work it must be,
 
 FRANK. 71 
 
 then, for the bees to collect as much honey 
 as I ate this morning at breakfast ! But, 
 mamma, does this bee swallow all the honey 
 it gets from this flower? " 
 
 " Yes, the bee swallows it ; it keeps the 
 honey in a little bag ; and the bee has the 
 power of forcing it up again from this bag, 
 whenever it pleases. Usually, the bee carries 
 the honey home to the hive, and puts it in 
 the little waxen cells ; such as those you 
 saw in the honey-comb, to-day, at break- 
 fast." 
 
 " And where do the bees get the wax, 
 mamma, of which they make the cells in the 
 honey-comb ? " 
 
 " I am not sure, my dear, what that wax 
 is ; I believe that it is made partly of farina 
 which the bees collect from the flowers, and 
 partly of some sticky substance in the stom- 
 achs of the bees. Some time or other, you 
 will read the accounts which have been writ- 
 ten of bees ; and then you will judge for 
 yourself." 
 
 Frank looked through the glass pane into 
 the bee-hive ; but he said that the bees 
 crowded so close to one another, that he 
 could not see what they were doing. 
 
 His mother told him that, some other day, 
 she would bring him again to see the bees at 
 work, and that, by degrees, perhaps, he would 
 distinguish them, and see what they were 
 doing.
 
 72 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 When Frank went home, he said, " Now, 
 mamma, that I know what is meant by bees 
 in their waxen cells, may I learn those lines ? 
 and will you repeat them to me? " 
 
 " It is troublesome to me, my dear," said 
 his mother, " to repeat them so often over ; 
 but here is a book in which you can read 
 them yourself; and you may now learn them 
 by rote, if you like it." 
 
 Frank read the lines over and over, and 
 tried to learn them by rote ; and at last he 
 could repeat them, as he thought, perfectly ; 
 and one day, after dinner, he went to his fa- 
 ther, and told him that he could repeat some 
 pretty lines to him, if he would give him 
 leave. 
 
 " I shall be glad to hear them, Frank," 
 said his father. " Begin and repeat them." 
 So Frank repeated them, without making any 
 mistakes ; and when he had repeated them, 
 his father-asked him several questions about 
 them, to try whether he understood them ; 
 and his father was pleased to find that he 
 really did understand ; and Frank told him 
 that his mother had been so good as to show 
 him a glowworm, and a moth, and a bee- 
 hive, and that she had explained to him all 
 the words in the lines which he did not at 
 first understand. 
 
 " I am glad, my dear," said his father, 
 " that you have had so much amusement
 
 FRANK. 73 
 
 and that you have had the perseverance 
 to learn any thing well, that you began to 
 
 learn But, pray tell me why you have 
 
 been continually buttoning and unbuttoning 
 the left sleeve of your coat, whilst you have 
 been talking to me, and whilst you were 
 repeating these verses." 
 
 " I do not know, papa," said Frank, laugh- 
 ing ; " only I remember that when I was 
 getting the verses by rote, and saying them 
 by myself, I first began buttoning and unbut- 
 toning this sleeve, and then I could not say 
 the verses so well without doing that." 
 
 "And do not you remember, Frank," said 
 his mother, " that I spoke to you, several 
 times, and told you that I was afraid you 
 would get a trick, a habit, of buttoning and 
 unbuttoning that sleeve of yours, if you did 
 not take care ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Frank ; " and I 
 stopped whenever you spoke to me, and 
 whenever I remembered it ; but then I found 
 myself doing it again, without thinking of 
 it ; and now, whenever I am trying to recoi- 
 lect any thing, I cannot recollect it half so 
 well without buttoning and unbuttoning my 
 sleeve." 
 
 " Give me hold of your right hand," said 
 his father. 
 
 Frank gave his hand to his father. 
 
 " Now," said his father, " repeat those lines 
 to me once more." 
 7
 
 74 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Frank began 
 
 " ' Stay thy soft-murmuring waters, gentle rill i 
 Hush, whispering winds ' " 
 
 But here he twitched his hand, which hig 
 father held fast : 
 
 ' ' Hush, whispering winds 
 
 " Father, I cannot say it whilst you hold 
 my hand." 
 
 His father let go his hand. 
 
 Frank immediately buttoned and unbut- 
 toned his sleeve, and then repeated, very 
 fluently, 
 
 " ' Hush, whispering winds ; ye rustling leaves, be still ; 
 Rest, silver butterflies ' " 
 
 But here his father caught hold of his 
 hand ; and he could get no farther. 
 
 " My dear," said his father, " it would be 
 very inconvenient to you, if your memory 
 was to depend upon your button ; for you 
 see that I can make you forget, in an instant, 
 all you have to say, by only catching hold of 
 your hand." " But, then, papa, if you 
 would be so good as not to catch hold of my 
 hand," said Frank, "you would hear how 
 well I could repeat the lines." 
 
 "It is of little consequence," said his fa- 
 ther, " whether you repeat these lines to- 
 day, or to-morrow ; but it is of great conse- 
 quence that you should not learn foolish, 
 awkward tricks ; therefore I beg you will not 
 say them to me again, till you can hold your-
 
 FRANK. 75 
 
 self perfectly still whilst you are repeating 
 them." 
 
 Frank's father and mother went out to 
 walk, and Frank went with them. " O, I 
 am glad you are going this way," said Frank, 
 "because now I shall see the swing." 
 
 His father had had a swing put up between 
 two trees ; Frank had seen it from the window 
 of the room in which he slept ; but he had 
 never yet been close to it ; and he wished very 
 much to see it, and to swing in it. 
 
 When he came up to it, he found that there 
 was a soft cushion, fastened to the middle of 
 the rope of which the swing was made. 
 
 One end of the rope was tied round the 
 trunk of a large ash tree; and the other end 
 of the rope was tied round the trunk of an 
 oak, that was opposite to the ash. 
 
 The rope was tied towards the top of the 
 trees ; and some of the branches of the trees 
 were cut away ; so that the rope could swing 
 backwards and forwards, without catching in 
 any thing. 
 
 The cushion, which made the seat of the 
 swing, hung so near the ground, that Frank 
 could reach it ; and he asked his fathef 
 whether he might sit upon it. 
 
 His father told him that he might ; and h<j 
 said, " Take hold of the cord on each side of
 
 76 
 
 EARLY LESSON^. 
 
 yon, and hold it fast ; and your mother and I 
 will swing you." 
 
 Prank jumped up on the cushion directly, 
 and seated himself, and took hold of the cord 
 on each side of him, with each of his hands. 
 
 " You must take care not to let go the cord 
 whilst we are swinging you," said his father ; 
 " or perhaps you will tumble out of the swing, 
 and hurt yourself." 
 
 " I will not let go, papa ; I will hold fast," 
 said Frank : and his father and mother began 
 to swing him backwards and forwards. He 
 liked it very much ; but it was a sharp even-
 
 FRANK. 77 
 
 ing in autumn, and his father and mother did 
 not like to stand still long to swing him. 
 
 " When you have had twenty more swings 
 backwards and forwards, we will stop, Frank," 
 said his father. So Frank began to count 
 the swings ; and. whilst he was counting, a 
 leaf fell from the tree, and put him out ; and 
 he tried to recollect whether the last number 
 of swings he had counted to himself was 
 six or seven ; and the moment he began to 
 try to recollect this, he let go the cord with 
 his right hand ; for he was going to button 
 and unbutton his sleeve, as he had the habit 
 of doing, when he was trying to recollect 
 any thing. 
 
 The moment he let go the cord, he twisted 
 a little in the seat, and could not catch the 
 cord again ; and he fell out of the swing. 
 
 He fell on the grass, and he hurt his ankle, 
 but not much. 
 
 " It is well you were not more hurt," said 
 his father. " If we had been swinging you 
 higher, and if you had fallen upon the gravel- 
 walk, instead of on the grass, you might have 
 been very much hurt. My dear, why did 
 you let go the cord ? " 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, " because I was try- 
 ing to recollect whether it was six swings or 
 seven that I had had." 
 
 " Well, and could not you recollect that, 
 without letting go the cord ? " 
 
 " No, papa ; the thing was that I was, I
 
 78 EARLY LESSONS 
 
 believe, going to button my sleeve. I wish I 
 had not that trick." 
 
 " You may cure yourself of it, if you take 
 pains to do so," said his father. 
 
 " I wish I cojld," said Frank ; "my ankle 
 is not very much hurt, however. Papa will 
 put me into the swing again ; and I think I 
 shall take more care not to let go the cord 
 now. You know I have not had all my 
 twenty swings, papa." 
 
 "No; you have had but eight," said his 
 father ; " but I am afraid, that if I were to 
 put you into the swing again, and if you were 
 to begin counting again, if you should not be 
 able to recollect the number, you would let 
 go the cord to button your sleeve, and you 
 would slip out of the swing again." 
 
 " No, papa," said Frank ; " I think this is 
 the very thing that would cure me of that 
 trick, because I do not like to tumble down, 
 and hurt myself; and I think I should take 
 care, and count, and recollect, without but- 
 toning or unbuttoning this sleeve. May I try, 
 papa ? " 
 
 His father shook hands with him, and said, 
 " I am glad to see that you can bear a little 
 pain, and that you wish to cure yourself of 
 this foolish trick. Jump, my boy," said his 
 father ; and Frank sprung up, and his father 
 seated him in the swing again. 
 
 He counted and held fast by the rope this 
 time ; and, just when he was come to the
 
 FRANK. 79 
 
 eighteenth swing, his father said to him, " Can 
 you recollect the last number you counted, 
 without letting go the rope to button your 
 sleeve ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank, "I can ; it was 
 seventeen." 
 
 " And you have had two swings since I 
 spoke last ; how many does that make ? " 
 
 Frank was just going to let go the cord to 
 button his sleeve ; but he recollected his for- 
 mer tumble. He held fast ; and, after think- 
 ing for an instant, answered, " Seventeen 
 swings and two swings make nineteen 
 swings." 
 
 His father then gave him one good swing 
 more, and then lifted him out ; and his mother 
 kissed him. 
 
 The next day his father was going from 
 home ; and, when he took leave of him, Frank 
 asked him if there was any thing he could do 
 for him whilst he was away. 
 
 " May I dust the books in your study, papa ? 
 I can do that," said Frank. 
 
 " I would rather, my dear," said his father, 
 " that you should, whilst I am away, learn to 
 repeat the lines which you got by heart with- 
 out 
 
 " I know what you mean, papa ; I will try 
 if I can." 
 
 His father went away ; and Frank, after 
 tie was gone, asked his mother if she would 
 take him to the swing, and swing him, and
 
 80 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 let him try whether he could recollect som 
 of the verses whilst he was swinging ; for 
 then, you know, mamma, I cannot move my 
 hands without tumbling out ; and I shall take 
 care." 
 
 But his mother said, she did not choose to 
 swing him, whilst his father was away ; and 
 Frank soon afterwards said, " Will you be so 
 good, then, mamma, as to cut off this button, 
 and to sew up this button-hole for me ? and 
 then I cannot button and unbutton it." 
 
 His mother cut off the button, and sewed 
 up the button-hole ; and several times, when 
 he was trying to repeat the lines, he felt for 
 the button and button-hole ; but when he 
 found that the button was gone, and that he 
 could not put his finger into the button-hole, 
 he, by degrees, left off feeling for them. 
 
 His father staid away a week ; and, in this 
 time, Prank quite cured himself of the foolish 
 trick which he had had, and he repeated the 
 lines to himself; whilst he held his hands 
 quite still. 
 
 He asked his mother to sew on the button 
 again, and to open the button-hole, the day 
 his father came home ; and she did so. 
 
 And when his father came home, and after 
 he had said, "How do you do, father?" 
 Frank cried, "May I say the lines now 
 father?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 He stood opposite to his father, held his
 
 FRANK. 81 
 
 hands perfectly still, and repeated the lines 
 without making a single mistake. 
 
 His father was pleased ; and he desired the 
 servant, who was bringing some things of his 
 out of the chaise in which he came, to give 
 him a book that was in the front pocket of 
 the chaise. 
 
 The book was Bewick's History of Quad- 
 rupeds ; it had very pretty prints in it. 
 
 Frank's father wrote, in a blank page at 
 the beginning of it, 
 
 " This book was given to Frank , October 
 the 27th, 1798, by his father, as a mark of 
 his father's approbation for his having, at 
 six years old, cured himself of a foolish 
 habit." 
 
 " Read that, if you can, Frank," said his 
 father. 
 
 Frank could not read all the words ; for he 
 was not used to read writing ; but his mother 
 read it to him. 
 
 And Frank liked the prints in this book 
 very much ; and he said, " Shall I read all 
 that is in the book, papa ? " 
 
 " Read only what you can understand, and 
 what entertains you in it, my dear," said his 
 father. 
 
 Frank was kneeling upon a chair, besid<* 
 the table upon which his mother was writing. 
 He was looking at the prints in his Bewick j
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and every minute he exclaimed, " O mamma, 
 look at this ! Mamma, here is a very pretty 
 print ! Only look at this one, mamma the 
 old, old man, going over a narrow bridge, and 
 his dog leading him. He is a blind man, I 
 suppose ; and the wind has blown his hat 
 off ; and it is raining very hard. Pray look, 
 mamma ! " 
 
 His mother put down her pen, and she 
 looked at the print, which she said was very 
 pretty. 
 
 " But now, Frank," added she, " do not 
 interrupt me any more."
 
 FRANK. 83 
 
 Frank was silent after this ; but, whenever 
 le turned over a new leaf, he put down both 
 his elbows upon the table, to look at the new 
 print ; and he shook the table, so that his 
 mother could not write ; wherefore she at last 
 desired him to take his book to another table. 
 He did so ; but he said that he could not see 
 nearly so well as when he was nearer to the 
 light. 
 
 " If you had not disturbed me," said his 
 mother, " I should not have sent you away 
 from this table. You should consider what 
 is agreeable to others, or they will not con- 
 sider what is agreeable to you." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " if you will let 
 me come back to the table where you are 
 sitting, I will take care not to shake the 
 table." 
 
 His mother told Frank that he might come ; 
 and he took care not to shake the table. 
 
 A little while after this, he was trying to 
 draw the old man, going over the bridge. 
 Pompey, a little dog that was in the room, 
 jumped up, suddenly, behind Frank's chair, 
 and shook the table. 
 
 "Fie, Pompey ! fie! down! down!" 
 cried Frank. " I don't like you, Pompey, 
 at all." 
 
 " Why don't you like Pompey ? " said 
 Frank's mother ; " you generally are very 
 fond of him." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, so I am fond of him, gen-
 
 84 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 erally ; but I don't like him now, because he 
 shook me, and hindered me from drawing. 
 
 Pompey ! Pompey ! again you gave my 
 elbow a great shake. Look, mamma ; just as 
 
 1 was drawing the old man's nose, he shook 
 me." 
 
 " Who ? the old man ? " 
 
 " No, mamma, but Pompey. Just as I was 
 drawing the old man's nose, Pompey shook 
 me, and made me make the old man's nose 
 as large as his whole head. O Pompey, you 
 have spoiled my old man, entirely. But I'll 
 rub out his nose, and draw it over again." 
 
 Just as Frank had finished drawing the old 
 man's nose over again, the dog shook him 
 again, and Frank was angry. " Don't shake, 
 Pompey ; I have bid you several times not to 
 shake, and still you go on shaking. Naughty 
 Pompey ! why don't you do as you are bid ? " 
 
 " Perhaps the dog does not understand 
 you," said Frank's mother. 
 
 " Well, but it is very disagreeable, that he 
 should shake the table. I don't like him at 
 all, to-night." 
 
 Here Frank began struggling with Pompey. 
 
 Pompey had his fore paws upon the table ; 
 and Frank was trying to drag him back, by 
 the hind legs ; but all this struggling shoolf 
 the table very much. 
 
 " Frank, I don't like either you or Pompey, 
 now," said Frank's mother; "because you, 
 both of you, shake the table, so that I cannot
 
 FKANK. 85 
 
 write. Look, here is an O, that is as crooked 
 as your old man's nose." 
 
 " I am very sorry, mamma," said Frank ; 
 " but will you be so kind as to put Pompey 
 out of the room ; and then we shall all be 
 
 both quiet and happy. You know you 
 
 sent me to another table when I was trouble- 
 some ; and now, if you put Pompey out of 
 the room, he cannot be troublesome to us any 
 more." 
 
 ' Very true," said his mother ; and she put 
 Pompey out of the room. 
 
 " I am glad he is gone," cried Prank ; " now 
 I can draw nicely." 
 
 " And now I can write nicely," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Mamma, are you as glad when I go out 
 of the room, after I have been troublesome, as 
 we are now, that we have got rid of Pompey ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " But when I am not troublesome, you are 
 not glad when I go out of the room." 
 
 " No ; I am glad to have you with me 
 when you are not troublesome." 
 
 " And you are more glad to have me with 
 you when I am useful to you, as I was yes- 
 terday, when I helped you to cut open the 
 leaves of those new books which you wanted 
 to read. You liked me very much then, 
 when you said I was useful to you." 
 
 " Yes ; people like those who are useful to 
 them."
 
 86 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " And I like to be liked, mamma, by you, 
 more than by any body ; so I will try always 
 to be as useful to you as I can. I can be use- 
 ful to you now, mamma, if you will give me 
 leave." 
 
 " I will give you leave in welcome, Frank," 
 said his mother, smiling. So Frank went 
 for a little bit of wood, which his father had 
 given to him ; and he cut it, with his knife, 
 into the shape of a wedge ; and he put his 
 wedge under one of the legs of the table, 
 which was shorter than the other legs ; and 
 the table was now much steadier than it was 
 before. 
 
 " Now, mamma," said Frank, " try to 
 shake the table, and you will feel how steady 
 it is ; I can put my elbows upon it now, 
 without shaking it ; and I dare say even 
 Pompey would not shake it. if he was to leap 
 up as he did just now. Is not my wedge 
 useful, mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes ; thank you for it, my dear." 
 
 " And now, mamma, may I open the door, 
 and let poor Pompey in again? for he cannot 
 easily shake us now." 
 
 Frank's mother told him that he might let 
 Pompey in again ; and when Frank opened 
 the door, he saw Pompey sitting upon his hind 
 legs, holding something up in his forepaws, 
 " O, mamma, it is my glove," cried Frank, 
 "the glove that I lost yesterday. Useful
 
 FRANK. 87 
 
 Pompey! I like you for finding my glove. 
 Useful Pompey ! Come in, useful Pompey ! " 
 
 One evening at tea-time, there was a small 
 plum-cake upon a plate on the tea-table, and 
 there was a knife beside the plate. Frank's 
 father and mother, and two of his brothers, 
 were sitting round the table ; his mother was 
 beginning to pour out the tea ; and she called 
 to Frank, and said to him, " My dear, cut 
 this plum-cake into five pieces for us, and 
 take care that you make all the pieces of the 
 same size, for your father, and your two 
 brothers, and yourself, and me ; and give us 
 each a just share." 
 
 Frank began to cut the cake ; but by mis- 
 take, he divided it into six parts, instead of 
 into five. 
 
 " Mamma," said he, " what shall I do 
 with this bit ? I have five without it ; one for 
 you, and one for my father, and one for my 
 brother Edward, and one for my brother 
 Harry, and one for myself. What shall I do 
 with 'this bit that is left ? " 
 
 " What is most just to do with it ? " 
 
 " I think I had better keep it myself, mam- 
 ma, because it belongs to nobody, and I 
 should have it for the trouble of cutting the 
 cake for every body." 
 
 u No," said his brother Henry, " I do not 
 think that would be just, because, then, you
 
 88 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 would be rewarded for making a mistake ; if 
 you had cut the cake rightly, there would 
 not be this bit to spare." 
 
 " Well," said Frank, " I do not think it 
 would be just that I should have it : but who, 
 then, shall I give it to ? I will give it to you, 
 mamma, because I like to give it to you best. 
 
 No, I will give it to papa, because he likes 
 
 plum-cake better than you do. Stay, I 
 
 will give it to you, Henry, because you 
 
 mended my kite for me. No, indeed, I 
 
 must give it to poor Edward, because he had 
 no cherry-pie to-day, at dinner." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " what right have 
 you, Frank, to give this bit of cake to poor 
 Edward, because he had no cherry-pie to- 
 day, at dinner ; or to good Henry, because 
 he mended your kite ; or to your father, be- 
 cause he loves plum-cake better than I do ; 
 or to me, because you like to give it to me ? 
 What right have you to give it away to any 
 of us ? " 
 
 " Mamma, you said that I was to give each 
 of you your just share ; and I thought I was 
 to be judge " 
 
 " Remember that I desired you to divide 
 the cake into five pieces, all of the same size; 
 you were to judge about the size of the 
 pieces ; and you were to take care that we 
 have each our just share ; but you are going 
 to give one of us twice as much as any of the 
 others."
 
 FRANK. 89 
 
 " I cannot make the pieces the right size, 
 now, mamma." 
 
 "But you can give us each equal quanti- 
 ties of cake : cannot you ? " 
 
 "How, mamma?" 
 
 " Think : when you are trusted to divide 
 any thing, you must take the trouble, Mr. 
 Judge, to consider how it is to be done 
 fairly." 
 
 Frank took the trouble to think ; and he 
 then cut the spare bit of cake into five equal 
 parts ; and he put these parts by the side of 
 the five large pieces of cake, and gave one of 
 the large pieces, and one of the little pieces, 
 to each person; and he then said, " I believe 
 I have divided the cake fairly now." Every 
 body present said, " Yes ; " and every body 
 looked carefully at each of the shares, and 
 there appeared exactly the same quantity in 
 each share. So each person took their por- 
 tion ; and all were satisfied. Justice satisfies 
 every body. 
 
 "My dear Frank," said his mother, "as 
 you have divided the cake so fairly, let us 
 see how you will divide the sugar that was 
 upon the top of the cake, and which is now 
 broken and crumbled to pieces in the plate. 
 We all like that sugar ; divide it equally 
 among us." 
 
 "But this will be very difficult to do, 
 mamma," said Frank, " because the pieces of 
 sugar are all of such different sizes and 
 H
 
 00 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 shapes ; and here are so many crumbs of cake 
 mixed with the crumbs of sugar; I do not 
 know how I shall ever divide it exactly. 
 Will it do, if I do not divide it quite exactly, 
 ma'am ? " 
 
 "No," said his mother; " I beg you will 
 divide it quite exactly : you can do it, if you 
 take the right way to do it." 
 
 Frank first took out all the largest bits of 
 sugar, and laid them upon one another, and 
 broke off the corners and edges till he thought 
 
 CJ O 
 
 he had five of them of the same size exactly, 
 and then he divided the crumbs, and little 
 broken bits, into five heaps, which he thought 
 seemed to be of the same size. 
 
 But when he had done, his brother Henry 
 said, " This heap next me is a great deal 
 larger than any of the others." 
 
 And Edward said, " My heap is taller than 
 yours ; but it is not so closely squeezed to- 
 gether; and that makes a great difference." 
 
 And his father said, " Frank, my large bit 
 of sugar is twice as big as your largest bit." 
 
 " O no, indeed, papa ; I measured them, 
 and they are exactly the same size ; put 
 yours upon mine, and you shall see. Look, 
 papa not the least corner or crumb dif- 
 ference." 
 
 " They are of the same length and breadth, 
 I acknowledge," said his father ; " but they 
 are not of the same thickness." 
 
 "O, thickness ! I never thought of thick' 
 ness."
 
 FRANK. 91 
 
 "But you should think of it," said his 
 father ; " because, look here ; if I was to 
 cut my bit of sugar, which is twice as thick 
 as yours, into two slices, each of those slices 
 would be as long, and as broad, and as thick, 
 as your bit is now, and I should have two 
 bits of the same size as yours twice as 
 much as you." 
 
 " Ah ! so you would ; thickness does make 
 a great difference. Then, how shall I 
 manage ? for if I begin to cut the sugar, in 
 
 your way, in slices Look, papa, it all 
 
 crumbles. Indeed, the crumbs are the most 
 easily divided. I will crumble it all, and 
 then divide the crumbs amongst you ; and 
 then 1 shall have no difficulty about the 
 thickness." So Frank pounded the sugar 
 with a spoon, till it was all become a fine 
 powder ; and then he divided it into heaps ; 
 but still people did not agree that his heaps 
 were all of the same size. 
 
 " We can measure them," said Frank ; and 
 he put one of the heaps into a tea-spoon ; it 
 did not quite fill the spoon. Another of the 
 heaps filled the spoon higher than the brim. 
 Another was exactly a spoonful. 
 
 Frank added to one heap, and took from 
 another. 
 
 " You squeeze the sugar in the spoon, and 
 thit will make more go in than there should," 
 said Henry. 
 
 "Indeed! indeed!" said Frank, "it can-
 
 92 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 not be divided more exactly ; it is impossible 
 to divide the sugar more exactly than I have 
 done it now ; is not it, mamma ? " 
 
 " I cannot say that it is impossible to di- 
 vide it more exactly," said his mother, smil- 
 ing ; " but, as far as I can guess, by looking at 
 your heaps, they seem to be of the same 
 size. I cannot, however, be sure, merely by 
 looking at them, that they contain exactly 
 equal quantities." 
 
 " How, then, could you be sure ? I do 
 not feel any difference, mamma. Perhaps I 
 could find out by weighing them in a pair of 
 
 scales. Papa, will you be so good as to 
 
 lend me the scales in which you were weigh- 
 ing money, T believe, yesterday?" 
 
 " No, my dear," said his father ; " the sau- 
 cers of those -scales are made of brass; and 
 you must not put any thing that you are 
 going to eat near brass, because the rust of 
 brass is poisonous. I will lend you anoth- 
 er pair of scales, which are made of ivory ; 
 and in these you may weigh your sugar. 
 
 Go for these scales ; they are upon the 
 
 table that is on the right-hand side of the 
 
 window in my study. As you are used 
 
 to find your way about the house in the 
 dark, you will readily find what you want." 
 
 Frank found the scales, and weighed his 
 heaps of sugar very carefully. He was sur- 
 prised to find that there was so much differ- 
 ence in the weight of the heaps, which ho
 
 FRANK. 93 
 
 thought were exactly of the same size. By 
 patiently adding and taking away, he at last ; 
 however, made them each of the same 
 weight ; and every body was then satisfied 
 with the accuracy of his division. 
 
 " Now, Frank, eat your own share of cake, 
 and drink this dish of tea, which has grown 
 quite cold whilst you have been dividing 
 and weighing," said his mother. And whilst 
 Frank and his brothers were eating their 
 shares of plum-cake, Frank's father said that, 
 if they pleased, he would read a short story to 
 them. The boys said that they should like 
 to hear a story ; and the story that he read 
 
 was out of Sandford and Merton Cyrus's 
 
 judgment about the two coats. 
 
 One day, Frank went with his mother to 
 a shop in a town : it was a shop where 
 gloves, and ribands, and caps, and hats, were 
 sold. His mother, after she had bought 
 some gloves which she wanted, went into a 
 little room behind the shop, to see a poor 
 girl, who was ill. 
 
 " Frank," said his mother, " stay in this 
 shop till I come back again." 
 
 Frank staid in the shop ; and whilst he 
 was there, a carriage stopped at the door; 
 and a lady got out of the carriage and came 
 into the shop where Frank was ; she asked 
 to look at some ribands ; and whilst the
 
 94 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 shop-man was looking in some little drawers 
 for ribands, the lady turned to look at Frank, 
 and said, " Does this little boy belong to 
 you ? " meaning the shop-keeper. 
 
 " O, no, ma'am ; he belongs to a lady who 
 is just gone into the next room ; " and the 
 shop-keeper mentioned the name of Frank's 
 mother. 
 
 The moment the lady heard this, she 
 smiled at Frank, called him to her, kissed 
 him, and told him he was a charming little 
 creature. She then asked him several ques- 
 tions ; and Frank was pleased by her smiling 
 at him, and praising him ; and he began to 
 talk to her ; and then she said he was the 
 finest boy she had ever seen in her life ; and 
 he liked her still better. 
 
 She was rolling np some riband in a paper 
 upon which some words were printed ; and 
 she asked him whether he could read any of 
 
 those words. " O, yes," said Frank ; and 
 
 he read, " Sarsnets, modes, and peelings; the 
 most fashionable assortment." 
 
 The lady stopped his mouth by kissing 
 him ; and she told him he was a very clever 
 little fellow, indeed. 
 
 Frank thought he should appear to her still 
 cleverer, if he repeated the pretty verses he 
 had learned by heart. " O, what a memory 
 he has! I never heard any thing so well re- 
 peated ! " exclaimed the lady. 
 
 Frank went on to tell the history of his
 
 FRANK. 95 
 
 Laving cured himself of the trick of button- 
 ing and unbuttoning his coat ; and he told 
 her, that his father had given him a book; 
 and he repeated, word for word, what his fa- 
 ther had written at the beginning of this 
 book. 
 
 To all this the lady listened with a smil- 
 ing countenance; and Prank was going on 
 talking about himself, when his mother 
 catne out of the room at the back of the 
 shop ; and she called Frank, and took him 
 home with her. 
 
 The next day, his mother, who usually let 
 frank read to her a little every day, told him 
 that he might bring his book to her and read ; 
 but he made several mistakes, and his mother 
 said, " Frank, you are not minding what you 
 are about this morning." 
 
 Frank read on, more carefully ; and when 
 he had read about half a page without 
 making any mistake, he stopped short, and 
 said to his mother, "But, mamma, you do 
 not praise me as the lady in the shop did." 
 
 " I do not flatter you, my dear," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " What is flattering me, mamma ?" 
 
 " Flattering you, my dear, is praising you 
 more than you deserve to be praised." 
 
 " Did the lady in the shop flatter me, 
 mamma? " 
 
 " I do not know ; for I was not by ; I did 
 not hear what she said."
 
 90 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " She said I feel, mamma, I do not know 
 why, ashamed to tell you all she said to me. 
 She said I was a charming little creature, and 
 that I was the finest boy she had ever seen 
 in her life ; and she said I was a very clever 
 little boy indeed, when I read something 
 Eibout sarsnets and modes, that was printed 
 on a paper in which she was rolling up some 
 riband ; and when I repeated the verses to 
 her, mamma, she said she never heard any 
 thing so well repeated in her life." 
 
 " And did you believe all this, Frank ? " 
 
 " Not quite, mamma. I made some mis- 
 takes when I was repeating the verses ; and 
 she did not take notice of that." 
 
 "And did you understand what you read 
 about sarsnets and modes ? " 
 
 " O mamma, I was sure you would ask 
 that question ! How came it that the lady 
 never asked me that ? And there was some- 
 thing about fashionable assortment. She 
 kissed me for reading that ; and all the time 1 
 did not-understand those words. When you 
 kiss me and praise me, mamma, I feel quite 
 sure that I have done something well, or 
 good ; I know what you are pleased with me 
 for ; but I did not know exactly why that 
 lady was so much pleased with me ; do you 
 know, mamma ? " 
 
 " No, my dear ; and I am not sure that she 
 was much pleased with you." 
 
 " O yes, mamma, I think she really was
 
 FRANK. yj 
 
 very much pleased with me, though she was 
 a foolish woman, and did not know why." 
 
 " Did not know why she was a foolish 
 woman, do you mean ? " 
 
 "No, mamma, but did not know why she 
 was pleased with me." 
 
 " In that respect," said his mother, laugh- 
 ing, "it seems that you were as foolish as 
 she was." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, " why are 
 you not quite sure that she liked me ? " 
 
 " Because, my dear, I have often heard 
 people tell children that they were sweet 
 creatures, and charming dears, and clever fel- 
 lows ; and I have observed that these people 
 forget the charming dears as soon as they are 
 out of sight." 
 
 " You and my father never do so ; do 
 you? " 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " I had rather that you and papa should 
 praise me, and like me, than the lady I saw 
 in the shop. I think I was very foolish to 
 tell her what my father wrote in my booK, 
 because she did not care about it, I suppose." 
 
 " You will be wiser another time," said 
 his mother. " Now put on your hat, and let 
 us go to look at the bees at work in the 
 glass bee-hive." 
 
 They went to the old woman's cottage ; 
 and the little boy opened the garden-gate ; 
 and Frank went to the bee-hive, to observe 
 9
 
 98 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the bees, whilst his mother sat down in tha 
 arbor, and took a book out of her pocket, in 
 which she read for some time. It entertain- 
 ed Frank more, to-day, to look at the bees, 
 than it did the first morning he came to look 
 at them, because he saw more distinctly 
 what they were doing. And when he had 
 attended to the bees as long as he liked, he 
 went to the arbor, where his mother was sit- 
 ting, and he asked her whether he might go 
 and talk to the little boy, who was now 
 weeding in the garden. 
 
 His mother said that she would rather that 
 he should not talk to this little boy ; but she 
 went to him herself, and thanked him for 
 letting Frank look at his bee-hive ; and she 
 told him that if he would come to her house, 
 she would give him a pair of strong shoes, 
 which she had had made him. 
 
 Then she took Frank by the hand, and 
 went to the cottage. 
 
 Somebody was talking to the old woman, 
 very eagerly, about washing a gown. 
 
 The person who was talking was a maid- 
 servant ; and she had a muslin gown in her 
 hand, which she said her mistress had de- 
 sired her to take to be washed. 
 
 This old woman was a washerwoman. 
 
 " Look here ! " said the maid, showing the 
 bottom of the muslin gown, on which there 
 were the marks of shoes, which had trodden 
 upon it, and on which there was the mark of
 
 FRANK. 99 
 
 a large hole, that had been mended. " Look 
 here : what a piece of work I have had this 
 morning ! Yesterday my mistress came home 
 with her gown torn and dirtied in this man- 
 ner ; and she told me it was all done by a 
 little mischievous, troublesome, conceited 
 brat of a boy, that she met with in the mil- 
 liner's shop at , where she was yes- 
 terday." 
 
 Whilst the maid was saying this, she did 
 not see Frank nor his mother ; for her back 
 was turned towards the door through which 
 they came. 
 
 " O mamma ! " cried Frank, " I remember 
 that was the gown the lady had on who 
 called me a charming little fellow, and who 
 praised I mean the other word, flattered me 
 so much ; but now she calls me a little mis- 
 chievous, troublesome, conceited brat, only 
 because I trod upon her gown by accident, 
 and tore it. I did not know I had torn it. I 
 remember I caught my foot in it, when you 
 called me to come away with you, mamma. 
 If I had torn or dirtied your gown, I do not 
 think you would have been so angry with 
 me. The next time any body begins to flat- 
 ter me, and to tell me that I am a charming 
 little dear, I shall recollect all this, and I 
 shall not repeat my verses, nor tell them 
 what papa wrote in my book."
 
 100 EA.KLY LESSONS. 
 
 Frank, who had seen the little boy to 
 whom the bee-hive belonged weeding the 
 beds in the garden, said to his mother one 
 morning, " I should like to try to weed some 
 of the borders in your garden, as that little 
 boy weeds the beds in his grandmother's 
 garden." 
 
 Frank's mother said that he might weed 
 one of the borders in her garden ; and she 
 lent him a little hoe ; and he went to work, 
 and weeded a piece of the border very care- 
 fully ; and his mother looked at it, when he 
 had done, and said that it was very well 
 done. 
 
 The same day, at dinner, Frank's father 
 gave him a bit of cheese ; and his mother 
 was surprised to see Frank take this cheese 
 off his plate, and put it betwixt his fore finger 
 and his middle finger ; then he took a piece 
 of bread, and stuck it betwixt his middle 
 finger and his fourth finger ; and then he 
 took a large mouthful of the cheese, and a 
 large mouthful of the bread, so that his mouth 
 was filled in a very disagreeable manner. 
 
 " Pray, Frank," said his mother, " what 
 are you about? " 
 
 Frank's mouth was not empty for nearly a 
 minute ; and he could make no answer. 
 
 " Where did you learn this new method of 
 eating bread and cheese? " 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I saw the little 
 boy, in the cottage, eating his bread and
 
 FKANK. 101 
 
 cheese, after he had done weeding ; and he 
 ate it just in this way." 
 
 " And why should you eat in that way, 
 because you saw him do so ? " 
 
 " Mamma, I thought you liked that little 
 boy; I thought he was a very good boy. 
 Do not you remember his bringing me back 
 the bunch of ripe cherries, that I dropped ? 
 You called him an honest little fellow ; and 
 do not you remember that he has been very 
 good-natured in telling us all he knew about 
 bees, and in letting me look at his glass bee- 
 hive ? And you know, mamma, this morn- 
 ing, you said, when you saw him at work, 
 that he was very industrious ; did not you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did. I think he is very industri- 
 ous, and that he was good-natured, in letting 
 you look at his glass bee-hive ; and honest, 
 in returning to you the bunch of ripe cher- 
 ries which you dropped ; but what has all 
 this to do with his method of eating bread 
 and cheese ? " 
 
 " I do not know, mamma," said Frank, 
 after thinking a little while. " Nothing to 
 do with it ! But I thought you would be 
 pleased to see me do every thing like him, 
 because you were pleased this morning, 
 when you saw me weeding like him." 
 
 " You may weed like him," said Frank's 
 mother, " without eating like him ; he weeds 
 well; but he eats disagreeably. I shall be 
 glad to see you as honest, and as good-na-
 
 102 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tared, and as industrious, as he is ; but I 
 should be sorry to see you imitate his man- 
 ner of eating, because that is disagreeable. 
 Sensible people do not imitate every thing 
 which they see others do ; they imitate only 
 what is useful or agreeable." 
 
 Frank took the bread and cheese from be- 
 twixt his fore finger and middle finger, and 
 from between his middle finger and his fourth 
 finger ; and he put the cheese upon his 
 plate, and did not any longer imitate the 
 manner in which he had seen the little boy, 
 in the cottage, cram his mouth. 
 
 " Did you ever hear," said Frank's father. 
 " of the manner in which apes are sometimes 
 caught? " 
 
 "No. papa." 
 
 "Apes are apt to imitate every thing 
 which they see done ; and they cannot, as 
 you can, Frank, distinguish what is useful 
 and agreeable from what is useless or disa- 
 greeable ; they imitate every thing without 
 reflecting. Men who want to catch these 
 apes, go under the trees in which the 
 apes live ; and the men take with them 
 basins, with water in them, in which they 
 wash their own hands ; they rub their hands, 
 and wash, for some time, till they perceive that 
 the apes are looking at them ; then the men 
 go away, and carry with them the basins of 
 water ; and they leave under the trees large, 
 heavy, wooden basins, filled with pitch : you
 
 FRANK. 103 
 
 have seen pitch, Frank ; you know that it is 
 a very sticky substance. The apes, as soon 
 as the men are out of sight, come down from 
 the trees, and go to the basins, to wash their 
 hands, in imitation of the men. The apes 
 dip their hands into the pitch; and the pitch 
 sticks to their hairy hands ; and the apes 
 cannot draw their hands out of the pitch. 
 Now, these animals usually run upon all- 
 fours." 
 
 " All-fours, papa ! " interrupted Frank : 
 " how is that ? " 
 
 "As you run upon your hands and feet, 
 
 upon the carpet, sometimes. The apes 
 
 cannot run well, for want of their hands, and 
 because the wooden bowls, which stick to 
 their hands, are so heavy. The men who 
 left these bowls come back, and find the 
 apes caught in this manner." 
 
 " I think these apes are very foolish ani- 
 mals," said Frank. 
 
 " So do I," said his father; "no animals are 
 wise, who imitate what they see done, with- 
 out considering the reason why it is done." 
 
 Frank asked his mother if she would take 
 him again to the cottage garden, to see the 
 bees at work in the glass bee-hive ; but hi? 
 mother answered, " I am afraid to take you 
 there again, till I am sure that you will not 
 imitate the little boy in every thing which 
 you see him do ; for instance "
 
 104 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " O mamma! " said Frank, " I know what 
 you are going to say. But to-day, at dinner, 
 you shall see that I will not eat in that disa- 
 greeable way." 
 
 His mother attended to him several days ; 
 and when she observed that he did not imi- 
 tate this boy any more in his manner of eat- 
 ing, she took him again to the cottage. 
 
 The old woman was spinning ; and Frank 
 stopped to look at her spinning-wheel ; and 
 he asked his mother what was the use of 
 wnat the old woman was doing. 
 
 She told him that the woman was twisting 
 a kind of coarse thread, called yarn, and that 
 her spinning-wheel was a machine which 
 helped her to do this quickly. His mother 
 then asked Frank, whether he knew where 
 the thread came from. 
 
 " No, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 "It comes from a plant called flax, my 
 dear," said his mother ; " I think you went 
 with me, last summer, through a field in 
 which you saw flax. You took notice of its 
 pretty blue flowers." 
 
 Frank said that he did remember this ; but 
 
 that he could not imagine how the thread 
 
 which he saw upon the spinning-wheel, 
 
 could come from that green plant with the 
 
 blue flowers. 
 
 His mother told him that she would show 
 him, whenever she had an opportunity, 
 
 The old woman, who was spinning, told
 
 FRANK. 105 
 
 Frank's mother, that a neighbor of hers was 
 tliis very day hackling some flax, and that, if 
 she liked to let Frank see how it was done, 
 she would show her to the house where her 
 neighbor lived. 
 
 " I should like to see what is meant by 
 hackling flax," said Frank. 
 
 " Then come with us, and you shall see," 
 said his mother. 
 
 Frank followed his mother to another cot- 
 tage, where he saw a woman beating, with 
 the edge of a thin bit of wood, something 
 which, he thought, looked a little like very 
 yellow, dry hay; but his mother told him 
 that this was flax. 
 
 As the woman beat it, a great deal of dust 
 and dirt fell out of it, upon the ground ; 
 and by degrees, the flax which she held in 
 her hand looked cleaner and cleaner, and 
 finer and finer, till at last it looked like yel- 
 low hair. 
 
 "But, mamma," said Frank, "the flax 
 which I saw last summer, growing in a field 
 near this house, had long green stalks, and 
 blue flowers ; and I saw no yellow threads 
 
 like these. Is this a different kind of 
 
 flax ? " 
 
 " No, my dear, this is the same flax. The 
 blue flowers have withered and died." 
 
 When the blue flowers began to wither, 
 the woman pulled up all the green stalks, and 
 bound them together in bundles, and put
 
 106 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 these bundles under water, in a ditch, where 
 she loft them for about a fortnight ; during 
 ihis time, the green outside of the stalk de- 
 cayed, and the stringy part remained ; she 
 then untied the bundles, and spread them 
 out, near a fire, to dry ; and then she brought 
 the flax home. " And this," said she, show- 
 ing Prank a bit of the flax, which the wo- 
 man had not yet beaten and cleaned, " this is 
 the flax, as it looks after it has been soaked 
 in water, and dried." 
 
 "And what is going to be done to it now, 
 mamma ? " said Frank, who observed that 
 the woman was now placing two small boards 
 before her, on which were stuck, with their 
 points upright, several rows of steel pins ; 
 their points were as sharp as needles. 
 
 "I am going to hackle the flax, master," 
 said the woman ; and she began to comb the 
 flax with these steel combs ; she drew the 
 flax through the pins, several times. The 
 board, into which the pins were stuck, was 
 fastened upon the table ; and, as the woman 
 drew the flax through the pins, it was disen- 
 tangled, and combed smooth. 
 
 "Mamma," said Frank, "it is just like 
 combing hair out, only the woman does not 
 move the comb, but she draws the hair the 
 flax, I mean through it." 
 
 The pins in one of the boards were 
 much smaller, and placed closer together, 
 than those in the other board.
 
 FRANK. 
 
 107 
 
 ' This is the large comb, and this is the 
 small-tooth comb, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 And when the flax had been drawn 
 through these fine pins, there was not a 
 tangle left in it ; and it looked smooth, bright, 
 and shining, and of a light, yellow color. 
 
 Frank's mother showed him that this 
 looked the same as what he had seen on the 
 old woman's spinning-wheel. 
 
 They went back to the spinning-wheel ; 
 and the old woman sat down, and spun a 
 little ; and Frank saw that the threads of the 
 
 flax were twisted together He did not 
 
 exactly know how ; and his mother told him
 
 108 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 he must not expect to find out how it was 
 done, by looking at it for a few minutes. 
 
 Frank said, " Mamma, I feel tired ; my 
 eyes are tired of looking ; and I am tired with 
 thinking about this spinning-wheel." 
 
 " Then do not think any more about it 
 now; go, and run about the garden;" and 
 Frank ran into the garden ; and he jumped 
 and sang ; and then he listened to the birds, 
 who were singing ; and he smelled the 
 flowers, particularly rosemary and balm, 
 which he had never smelled before ; and he 
 heard the humming of bees near him, as he 
 was smelling to the rosemary ; and he recol- 
 lected that he had not looked at the bees 
 this day ; so he ran to the glass bee-hive, and 
 watched them working. 
 
 And afterwards he ran back to his mother, 
 and said, "lam quite rested now, mamma 
 
 1 mean, I do not feel tired of thinking 
 
 about the spinning-wheel. May I look at 
 the woman spinning again ? " 
 
 *' Yes, my dear." 
 
 Frank went into the cottage, and looked at 
 the old woman, who was spinning. 
 
 " Would you like to try to spin a bit, 
 dear ? " said the old woman. 
 
 " Yes, I should," said Frank ; " it looks as 
 if it was very easy to do it ; but perhaps it is 
 not ; for I remember, I could not plane with 
 the carpenter's plane, though it seemed very 
 easy when he was doing it."
 
 FRANK. 109 
 
 Frank tried to spin ; but he broke the 
 thread, almost at the first trial ; however, the 
 old woman clapped her hands, and said, 
 ''That's a pretty dear! He spins as well 
 as I do, I declare ! " 
 
 "O, no, no, no," said Frank ; "I know I 
 cannot spin at all ; " and he looked ashamed, 
 and left the spinning-wheel, and turned away 
 from the old woman, and went back to his 
 mother. 
 
 She walked home with him ; and, as they 
 were walking home, his mother said to him : 
 
 " Do you know why you came back just 
 now, Frank ? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma ; because the woman called 
 me pretty dear, and told me that I could spin 
 as well as she could ; and you know I could 
 not ; so that was flattering me ; and I do not 
 like people that flatter me. I remember the 
 lady in the shop, who flattered me, and after- 
 wards called me a mischievous brat ; but I 
 do not much like to think of that. Mamma, 
 of what use is that brown thread which the 
 old woman made of the flax ? " 
 
 " Of that brown thread, linen is made, 
 my dear." 
 
 " But linen is white, mamma ; how is the 
 brown thread made white ? " 
 
 " It is left in a place where the sun shines 
 upon it ; and there are other ways of making 
 linen white, which I cannot now explain to 
 you. Making linen white, is called bleach- 
 ing it."
 
 110 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Can you explain to me, mamma, how 
 thread is made into linen?" 
 
 "No, my dear, I cannot ; but perhaps your 
 father, when you are able to understand it, may 
 show you how people weave linen in a loom." 
 
 One night, when Frank's brother Henry 
 was with him, they were talking of Henry's 
 garden. 
 
 Henry said, " Next spring, I intend to sow 
 some scarlet runners, or French beans, in my 
 garden." 
 
 " Whereabouts in your garden ? " said 
 Frank. Henry tried to describe to him 
 whereabouts; but Frank could not under- 
 stand him ; so Henry took his pencil out of 
 his pocket, and said, " Now, Frank, I will 
 draw for you a map of my garden ; and then 
 you will understand it." 
 
 He drew the shape of his garden upon 
 paper; and he marked where all the little 
 walks went, and where the rose-bush stood, 
 and where the sally-fence was ; and he drew 
 all the borders, and printed upon each of the 
 borders the name of what was planted there 
 when Frank last saw it. 
 . Frank, after he had looked at this drawing 
 for a little while, understood it, and saw the 
 exact spot in which Henry intended to sow 
 his scarlet runners.
 
 FRANK. Ill 
 
 " So this is what you call a map," said 
 Frank; "but it is not like the maps in 
 papa's study." 
 
 " They are maps of countries, not little 
 gardens," said Henry. 
 
 " I suppose they are of the same use to oth- 
 er people, that the little map of your garden 
 was to me ; to show them whereabouts places 
 are. But, Henry, what are those odd-shaped, 
 crooked bits of wood, which hook into one 
 another, and which I thought you called a 
 map ? " 
 
 " That is a map, pasted upon wood ; and 
 the shapes of the different places are cut out 
 through the paper and through the wood ; arid 
 then they can be joined together again, exact- 
 ly the same shape that they were in at first." 
 
 "I don't understand how you mean," said 
 Frank. 
 
 Henry cut out the different beds and 
 walks, in the little map which he had drawn 
 of his garden ; and when he had separated 
 the parts, he threw them down upon the 
 table, before Frank, and asked him to try if 
 he could put them together again, as they 
 were before. 
 
 After some trials, Frank did join them all 
 together ; and he told Henry that he should 
 very much like to try to put his wooden map 
 together, and that he would be very much 
 obliged to him, if lie would lend it to him. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Henry, " to lend you
 
 112 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 that map, lest you should lose any of the 
 parts of it." 
 
 " I will not lose them, I assure you." 
 
 " I tried every day for a week," said Hen- 
 ry, " before I was able to put it all together ; 
 and after 1 had done with it every day, I put 
 it into the box belonging to it ; and I regu- 
 larly counted all the bits, to see that I had 
 them right." 
 
 " I will count them every day before I put 
 them by, if you will lend them to me," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " If you will promise me to do so," said 
 Henry, "I will lend you my map for a 
 week." 
 
 Frank was eagerly going to say, " Yes, I 
 will promise you," when he felt a hand be- 
 fore his lips ; it was his mother's. " My 
 dear Frank," said she, in a serious tone of 
 voice, " consider before you ever make any 
 promise. No persons are believed, or trusted, 
 who break their promises ; you are very 
 young, Frank, and you scarcely know what 
 a promise means." 
 
 " I think I know, mamma, what this prom- 
 ise means," said Frank. 
 
 " And do you think you shall be able to 
 keep your promise ? " 
 
 "Yes, mamma," said Frank, "I hope that 
 I shall." 
 
 " I hope so too, my dear," said his moth- 
 er j " for I would rather that you should nev-
 
 FRANK. 113 
 
 BY put that map together, than that you 
 should make a promise and break it." 
 
 Frank promised Henry that, whenever he 
 took the map out of the box, he would count 
 the pieces, to see whether he had the right 
 number, before he put them again into the 
 box. 
 
 u Remember," said Frank, " I do not prom- 
 ise that I will not lose any of the pieces 
 of the map ; I promise only to count them ; 
 but I hope I shall not lose any of them." 
 
 Henry told him that he understood very 
 well what he said ; and he put the box into 
 his hands. 
 
 Frank immediately counted the pieces of 
 the map. It was a map of England and 
 Wales ; and there were fifty-two pieces ; one 
 to represent each county. 
 
 " Fifty-two ; fifty-two ; fifty-two ; " repeat- 
 ed Frank, several times ; " I am afraid I shall 
 forget how many there are." 
 
 "Then," said Henry, "you had better 
 
 write it down. Here is a pencil for you ; 
 
 and you may write it upon the lid of the 
 box." 
 
 Frank wrote a two, and five after it. 
 
 " That is not right," said Henry ; " that is 
 twenty-five ; and you know that there are 
 fifty-two." 
 
 "Then," said Frank, "I must put the five 
 to my left hand, and the two to my right 
 hand, to make fifty-two. Mamma, 1 did not 
 1C
 
 114 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 understand what papa told me once, about 
 the place of units, and tens, and hundreds." 
 
 " Then you had better ask him to explain 
 it to you again, when he is at leisure ; for 
 want of knowing this, when you were to 
 write fifty-two, you wrote twenty-five." 
 
 " That was a great mistake ; but papa is 
 busy now, and cannot explain about units 
 and tens to me ; therefore I will put the map 
 together, if I can." 
 
 Frank could not put the map together, 
 the first night that he tried, nor the second 
 day, nor the third ; but he regularly remem- 
 bered to count the bits, according to his prom- 
 ise, every day before he put them into the 
 box. 
 
 One day he was in a great hurry to go out 
 to fly his kite ; but all the pieces of the map 
 were scattered upon the carpet ; and he staid 
 to count them, and put them into the box, 
 before he went out. 
 
 It was not easy to get them into the box, 
 which was just large enough to hold them 
 when they were well packed. 
 
 The lid of the box would not slide into its 
 place when the pieces of the map were not 
 put in so as to lie quite flat. 
 
 One day it was Friday Frank saw his 
 father open a large book, in which there were 
 very pretty prints of houses ; and he was ea- 
 ger to go to look at these prints ; but his map- 
 was upon the table j and he thought he had
 
 FRANK. 115 
 
 better count the pieces, and put them into the 
 box, before he went to look at the prints, lest 
 lie should forget to do it afterwards , there- 
 fore he counted them as fast as he could. 
 They were not all right. Fifty-two was the 
 number that had been lent him ; and he could 
 not find but fifty-one. 
 
 He searched all over the room ; under the 
 tables ; under the chairs ; upon the sofa ; 
 under the cushions of the sofa ; under the 
 carpet ; every where he could think of. The 
 lost bit of the map was nowhere to be found ; 
 and whilst he was searching, his father turned 
 over all the leaves in the book of prints, 
 found the print that he wanted, then shut 
 the book, and put it into its place, in the 
 book-case. 
 
 Frank was at this instant crawling from 
 beneath the sofa, where he had been feeling 
 for his lost county. He looked up and 
 sighed when he saw the book of pretty 
 prints shut, and put up into the book-case. 
 
 " O papa ! there is the very thing I have 
 been looking for all this time," cried Frank, 
 who now espied the bit of the map which he 
 had missed ; it was lying upon the table, 
 and the book of prints had been put upon it, 
 so that Frank never could see it till the book 
 was lifted up. 
 
 " I am glad I have found you, little crook- 
 ed county of Middlesex," said Frank. 
 
 "Now I have them all right fifty-two "
 
 116 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 The next morning Saturday the lasi 
 day of the week during which the map was 
 lent to Frank, he spent an hour and a half * 
 in trying to put it together ; and at last he 
 succeeded, and hooked every county, even 
 crooked little Middlesex, into its right place. 
 
 He was much pleased to see the whole 
 map fitted together. " Look at it, dear mam- 
 ma," said he ; " you cannot see the joining, 
 it fits so nicely." 
 
 His mother was just come to look at his 
 map, when they heard the noise of several 
 sheep ba-a-ing very loud near the windows. 
 Frank ran to the window ; and he saw a 
 large flock of sheep, passing near the win- 
 dow ; a man and two women were driving 
 them. 
 
 "How fat they look, mamma!" said 
 Frank ; " they seem as if they could hardly 
 walk, they are so fat." 
 
 " They have a great deal of wool upon 
 their backs." 
 
 " Mamma, what can be the use of those 
 large, very large, scissors, which that woman 
 carries in her hand ? " 
 
 u Those large scissors are called shears ; 
 and with them the wool will be cut from the 
 backs of these sheep." 
 
 " Will it hurt the sheep, mamma, to cut 
 their wool off? " 
 
 * A boy of four years old spent, voluntarily, above a 
 hour and a half in attempts to put together a joining map.
 
 FRANK. 117 
 
 " Not at all, I believe." 
 
 " I should like, then, to see it done ; and I 
 should like to touch the wool. What use is 
 made of wool, mamma? " 
 
 " Your coat is made of wool, my dear." 
 
 Frank looked surprised ; and he was going 
 
 o ask how wool could be made into a coat ; 
 
 but his father came into the room, and asked 
 
 him if he should like to go with him to see 
 
 some sheep sheared. 
 
 " Yes, very much, papa, thank you," said 
 Frank, jumping down from the chair on 
 which he stood. 
 
 " I shall be ready to go in five minutes," 
 said his father. 
 
 " I am ready this minute," said Frank ; " I 
 have nothing to do, but to get my hat, and 
 to put on my shoes." But just as he got to 
 the door, he recollected that he had left Hen- 
 ry's map upon the floor ; and he turned back, 
 and was going hastily to put it into the box ; 
 but he then recollected his promise to count 
 the pieces every day, before he put them into 
 the box. He was much afraid that his fa- 
 ther should be ready before he finished count- 
 ing them, and that he should be left behind, 
 and should not see the sheep sheared ; but he 
 kept his promise exactly ; he counted the 
 fifty-two pieces, put them into the box, and 
 was ready the instant his father called him. 
 
 He saw the wool cut off the backs of the 
 sheep; it did not entertain him quite so
 
 118 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 much as he had expected, to see this done ; 
 but when he returned home, he was very 
 glad to meet his brother Henry in the even- 
 ing ; and he returned the box of maps to 
 him. 
 
 " Thank you, Henry," said he ; " here is 
 your map, safe. Count the pieces, and you 
 will find that there are fifty-two. And I 
 have kept my promise ; I have counted them 
 every day, before I put them into the box. 
 My mother saw me count them every day." 
 
 " I am glad, Frank, that you have kept 
 your promise," said Henry, and his mother, 
 and his father, all at once ; and they looked 
 pleased with him. 
 
 His father took down the book of pretty 
 prints, and put it into Frank's hands. 
 
 " I will lend you this book for a week," 
 said his father ; " you may look at all the 
 prints in it ; I can trust you with it ; for I 
 saw that you took care of Henry's map, 
 which was lent to you." 
 
 Frank opened the book, and he saw, upon 
 the first page, the print of the front of a house. 
 
 " The reason I wished to look at this book 
 so much," said Frank, " was, because I 
 thought I saw prints of houses in it ; and I 
 am going to build a house in my garden." 
 
 "You have kept your promise so well," 
 said Henry, " about the map, that I will lend 
 you what I would not lend to any body 
 that I could not trust ; I will lend you my
 
 FRANK. 119 
 
 box full of little bricks, if you will not take 
 them out of doors, nor wet them." 
 
 Frank said that he would not either tako 
 them out of doors or wet them. 
 
 And Henry believed that Frank would do 
 what he said that he would do, because he 
 had kept his promise exactly in respect to 
 the map. 
 
 Frank received the box full of little bricks, 
 with a joyful countenance ; and his mother 
 gave him leave to build with them in the 
 room in which he slept. 
 
 Henry showed him how to break the 
 joints, in building how to build walls and 
 arches. And Frank was happy in building 
 different sorts of buildings, and staircases, 
 and pillars, and towers, and arches, with the 
 little bricks which were lent to him. And 
 he kept his promise not to wet them, and 
 not to take them out of doors. 
 
 11 It is a good thing to keep one's prom- 
 ise," said his mother : " people are trusted 
 who keep their promises trusted even with 
 little bricks." * 
 
 * These little bricks were made of plaster of Paris ; they 
 were exactly twice as long as they were broad, and twice 
 as broad as they were thick. Two inches and a quarter long is 
 a convenient length, being one quarter of the length of a com- 
 mon brick. Common bricks are not exactly in the proportion 
 above mentioned, as there is generally allowance made for mor- 
 tar. A few lintels of wood, the depth and breadth of a brick 
 and twelve inches and three quarters long, will be found very 
 convenient; these should be painted exactly to match th 
 color of the bricks.
 
 120 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 It was autumn. The leaves withered, and 
 fell from the trees ; and the paths in the 
 grove were strewed with the red leaves o. 
 the beech-trees. 
 
 Little Frank swept away the leaves in his 
 mother's favorite walk in the grove : it was 
 his morning's work to make this walk quite 
 clean ; and as soon as dinner was over, he 
 slid down from his chair ; and he went to 
 his mother, and asked her if she would walk 
 out this evening in the grove. 
 
 "I think," said his mother, " it is now too 
 late in the year to walk after dinner; the even- 
 ings are cold ; and " 
 
 "O mamma!" interrupted Frank, "pray 
 walk out this one evening. Look ! the sun 
 has not set yet ; look at the pretty red sun- 
 shine upon the tops of the trees. Several of 
 the trees in the grove have leaves upon 
 them still, mamma and I have swept away 
 all the withered leaves that were strewed 
 upon your path. Will you come and look 
 at it, mamma ? " 
 
 " Since you have swept my path, and have 
 taken pains to oblige me," said his mother, 
 " I will walk with you, Frank. People 
 should not always do just what they like 
 best themselves ; they should be sometimes 
 ready to comply with the wishes of their 
 friends ; so, Frank, I will comply with your 
 wish, and walk to the grove." 
 
 His mother found it a more pleasant even-
 
 FRANK. 121 
 
 ing than she had expected ; and the walk 
 in the grove was sheltered ; and she thanked 
 Frank for having swept it. 
 
 The wind had blown a few leaves from 
 one of the heaps which he had made ; and he 
 ran on before his mother, to clear them away. 
 But as he stooped to brush away one of the 
 leaves, he saw a caterpillar, which was so 
 nearly the color of the faded green leaf upon 
 which it lay, that he, at first sight, mistook it 
 for a part of the leaf. It stuck to the leaf, 
 and did not move in the least, even when 
 Frank touched it. He carried it to his moth- 
 er, and asked her if she thought that it was 
 dead, or if she knew what was the matter 
 with it. 
 
 " I believe, my dear," said his mother, 
 " that this caterpillar will soon turn into a 
 chrysalis." 
 
 " Chry what, mamma ? " 
 
 " Chrysalis." 
 
 " What is a chrysalis ? " 
 
 " I cannot describe it to you ; but if you 
 keep this caterpillar a few days, you will see 
 what I mean by a chrysalis." 
 
 u I will. But how do you know, mamma, 
 that a caterpillar will turn into a chrysalis ? " 
 
 " I have seen caterpillars that have turned 
 into chrysalises ; and I have heard that they 
 do so, from many other people, who have 
 seen it ; and I have read, in books, accounts 
 of caterpillars that have turned into chry sa- 
 il
 
 122 EAKLY LESSONS. 
 
 lises ; and this is the time of year in which, 
 as it has been observed, this change usually 
 happens." 
 
 " But, my dear mother," said Frank, 
 " may I keep this caterpillar in my red box ? 
 And what shall I give it to eat ? " 
 
 " You need not give it any thing to eat ; 
 for it will not eat whilst it is in this state ; 
 and you may keep this caterpillar in your 
 box ; it will soon become a chrysalis ; and, 
 in the spring, a rnoth, or butterfly, will come 
 out of the chrysalis." 
 
 Frank looked much surprised at hearing 
 this ; and he said that he would take great 
 care tif the caterpillar, and that he would 
 watch it, that he might see all these curious 
 changes. 
 
 " Who was the first person, mamma, that 
 ever observed that a caterpillar turned into a 
 chrysalis, and a chrysalis into a butterfly? " 
 
 " I don't know, my dear." 
 
 " Mamma, perhaps, if I observe, I may find 
 out things, as well as other people." 
 
 " Yes, very likely you may." 
 
 " Mamma, how did the person who wrote 
 about animals, in my book that my father gave 
 me, find out all that he knew ? " 
 
 " Partly from reading other books, and 
 partly from observing animals himself." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Frank, " how did the 
 people, who wrote the other books, know all 
 the things that are told in them ? "
 
 FRANK. 123 
 
 " By observing," said his mother. " Dif- 
 ferent people, in different places, observed dif- 
 ferent animals, and wrote the histories of 
 those animals." 
 
 " I am very glad that they did. Did they 
 ever make mistakes, mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe that they did make a great 
 many mistakes." 
 
 " Then every thing that is in books is not 
 true ; is it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I am sorry for that. But how shall I 
 know what is true, and what is not true, in 
 books, mamma ? " 
 
 " You cannot always find out what is true, 
 and what is not true, in books, till you have 
 more knowledge, my dear." 
 
 "And how shall I get more knowledge, 
 mamma? " 
 
 " By observing whatever you see, and hear, 
 and feel ; and trying experiments." 
 
 " Experiments^ mamma ! Papa, and grown 
 up, wise people, try experiments ; but I did 
 not know that such a little boy as I am could 
 try experiments." 
 
 Frank and his mother had walked on, whilst 
 they were talking, till they came to a path 
 which led to the river side. 
 
 A little girl was by the river side, dipping 
 a yellow earthen jug into the ...water. 
 
 The girl did not perceive Frank and his 
 mother, who were corning behind her, till she
 
 124 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 heard Frank's voice, which startled her ; and 
 she let the pitcher fall from her hand, and it 
 broke. 
 
 The girl looked very sorry that she had 
 broken the jug ; but a woman, who was 
 standing beside her, said, " It is no great 
 misfortune, Mary ; for we can take it home, 
 and tie it together, and boil it in milk, and it 
 will be as good as ever." 
 
 " My dear mother," cried Frank ; " then we 
 can mend the broken flower-pot. Shall we 
 do it, as soon as we get home ? "
 
 FRANK. 125 
 
 " We can try to do it as soon as we go 
 home." 
 
 " Try, mamma ! But are you not sure it 
 will do? That woman said the jug would 
 be as good as ever, if it was tied together, and 
 boiled in milk." 
 
 " Yes ; but she may be mistaken. We had 
 better try the experiment ourselves." 
 
 " Is that called trying an experiment ? " 
 
 " Yes ; this is an experiment we can try." 
 
 When they got home, Frank's mother rang 
 the bell, and asked to have a clean saucepan 
 brought up stairs ; and when the saucepan 
 was brought to her, she tied the pieces of the 
 broken flower-pot together, with pack-thread, 
 in the same shape that it was before it was 
 broken. She put the flower-pot into the 
 saucepan ; and she poured over it as much 
 milk as entirely covered it ; and after she had 
 put the saucepan on the fire, she waited till 
 the milk boiled ; then she took the saucepan 
 off the fire ; and she waited till the milk grew 
 so cool that she could dip her fingers into it, 
 without burning herself; and she took out the 
 flower-pot, and carefully untied the wet pack- 
 thread, and unwound it ; but when she had 
 untied it, the parts of the flower-pot did not 
 stick together ; they separated ; and Frank 
 was disappointed. , 
 
 " But, mamma," said he, "I wish you 
 would be so good as to send to the woman, 
 and ask her how it was that she could mend
 
 126 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 broken things by boiling them in milk ; per- 
 haps she knows something about it that we 
 do not know yet." 
 
 " Stay," said Henry ; " before you send to 
 the woman, try another experiment. Here's 
 a saucer which I broke just before you came 
 in from walking I was rubbing some In- 
 dian ink upon it, and I let it slip off the table. 
 Let us tie this together, and try whether you 
 can mend it by boiling it in the milk." 
 
 The saucer was tied together; the milk 
 that was in the saucepan was poured out, 
 and some cold milk was put into it ; in- 
 to this milk the saucer was put, and the 
 milk was then boiled ; and the moment the 
 saucepan was taken off the fire, Frank was 
 impatient to see the saucer. Before it was 
 nearly cool, he untied the string; the parts 
 of the saucer did not stick together ; and 
 Frank was more disappointed now than he 
 had been before. 
 
 His mother smiled, and said, " Frank, peo- 
 ple who wish to try experiments, you see, 
 must be patient." 
 
 The woman, whom he had heard speaking 
 to the little girl by the river side, lived very 
 near to them ; and Frank's mother sent to 
 beg to speak to her. She came ; and when 
 she was told what had been done about the 
 flower-pot and the saucer, she asked whether 
 it was a long time since the flower-pot had 
 been broken.
 
 FRANK. 127 
 
 "Yes, about two months." 
 
 " Then, rna'am." said she, "that could not 
 be mended this way ; 1 can only mend things 
 this way, that have been fresh broken." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " how comes it 
 that the saucer, which Henry did but just 
 break before we came in from walking, did 
 not stick together, after all we did to it?" 
 
 "Perhaps, master," said the woman, "you 
 did not let it stand to cool before you un- 
 tied it." 
 
 "No, I did not," said Frank; "I will be 
 more patient this time, mamma, if you will 
 let me try once more." 
 
 His mother let him try once more. As he 
 was tying the broken saucer together, the 
 old woman said to him, " Tie it very tight, 
 and fit it close and even, or it will not do." 
 
 He waited till the saucer was cold this 
 time, and then he untied the string ; and he 
 found that the parts of the saucer stuck fast 
 together; and he could scarcely see the 
 place where they were joined. 
 
 He was pleased with this success ; and he 
 said, " People must be patient who try exper- 
 iments ; and people must be patient who are 
 to observe things ; and then I shall see the 
 chrysalis change to a moth or a butterfly. 
 But, mother, first I shall see" the caterpillar 
 change to a chrysalis." 
 
 Frank put his green caterpillar into his red 
 box ; and then he went again to look at the
 
 128 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 saucer which had been mended, and at the 
 flower-pot which the old woman said could 
 not be mended ; and he asked his mother if 
 she could tell the reason why things, which 
 had been broken a long time before could 
 not be mended by being boiled, in this man- 
 ner, in milk. 
 
 " I think I can guess the reason," said his 
 mother ; " but I will not tell it to you ; I 
 would rather that you should think and find 
 it out for yourself. If I were to tell you the 
 reason of every thing, my dear, you would 
 never take the trouble of thinking for your- 
 self ; and you know I shall not always be 
 with you, to think for you." 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " there is a reason 
 that I have thought of; but I am not sure 
 that it is a right reason ; but it may be one of 
 the reasons." 
 
 " Well, let us hear it, without any more 
 reasons," said his mother, laughing. 
 
 " I thought, mamma," said Frank, " that 
 perhaps the old woman could never mend 
 things " 
 
 " Things ? what sort of things ? chairs and 
 tables, or coats and waistcoats ? " 
 
 "O mamma, you know very well what I 
 mean." 
 
 " Yes, I guess what you mean ; but other 
 people will not be at the trouble of guessing 
 at the meaning of what you say ; therefore, if
 
 FRANK. 129 
 
 you wish to be understood, you must learn to 
 explain yourself distinctly." 
 
 " I thought, mamma," said Frank, " that 
 the reason why the old woman could never 
 mend cups and saucers, or jugs, or plates, that 
 had been broken a great while, was because, 
 perhaps, the edges of these might have been 
 rubbed or broken off, so that they could not 
 be fitted close together again. If you recol- 
 lect, the old woman said to me, when I was 
 tying the broken saucer together, ' Tie it 
 
 tight, and fit it close, or it will not do.' 
 
 Do you think that I have found out the 
 right reason, mamrna ? Is it the reason 
 which you thought of ? " 
 
 " It is the reason," answered his mother, 
 "which I thought of; but my having 
 thought of it, is no proof that it is right. 
 The best way to find out whether this is the 
 
 cause, is to try it. -Can you find out 
 
 yourself, Frank, how you may prove whether 
 this is the reason or not ? " 
 
 " I would rub the edges of a plate or sau- 
 cer, after it was broken ; and when I had 
 rubbed off little bits of the edges, I would 
 tie the pieces together and boil them in 
 milk : and I would, at the same time, break 
 another bit of the same plate, or saucer ; and 
 I would tie the broken pieces 'together, with- 
 out rubbing off any of the edges ; and I 
 would put it into the same milk, and let it ba 
 upon the fire as long, and let it be as long
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 before I un/ied it, as before I untied the 
 otner broken pieces ; and then we should 
 see whether the rubbing of the edges would 
 prevent the pieces from joining, or not." 
 
 Frank's mother told him that he might 
 try his experiment. He tried it ; and he 
 found that the broken bits of the plate, whose 
 edges he had broken off, could not be joined 
 by being boiled in milk ; and two other 
 broken bits of the same plate, which he 
 joined without rubbing off their edges, stuck 
 together, after they had been boiled in milk, 
 very well. 
 
 Then Frank said, " Mamma, there is an- 
 other thing which I should like to try ; I 
 should like to tie the broken flower-pot very 
 tight together, and to fit the pieces closely ; 
 for, the last time I tied it, I did not tie it very 
 tight ; I did not know that I should have 
 done that, till the old woman told me that I 
 should. I think, perhaps, the flower-pot may 
 be mended, because, though it has been 
 broken a great while, the edges of it have 
 never been rubbed, I believe : it has been ly- 
 ing in the press, in your room ; and nobody 
 has ever meddled with it." 
 
 " Nobody has ever meddled with it, I be- 
 lieve," said his mother; "for I lock that 
 press every day ; and no one goes to it but 
 myself; and I have never rubbed any thing 
 against the edges of the broken flower-pot." 
 
 She went and brought the pieces of the
 
 FRANK. 131 
 
 flo\ter-pot; and Frank tied them together, 
 very tight, after he had fitted their edges 
 closely and evenly together. He boiled 
 this flower-pot again in milk, waited after- 
 wards till it became cool, and then he untied 
 it ; and he found that the parts stuck togeth- 
 er ; and he poured water into it, and the 
 water did not run out. Frank was glad that 
 he had mended the flower-pot at last. 
 
 " Do you think, mother," said he, " that it 
 was made to stick together again by being 
 tied so tight, or by the milk, or by both to- 
 gether ? " 
 
 "I do not know," answered his mother; 
 " but you may try whether tying broken 
 pieces of earthenware together will fasten 
 them, without boiling them in milk." 
 
 Frank tried this ; and he let the pieces 
 that were tied together remain still, as long 
 as those which he had before boiled in milk ; 
 and when .he had untied the string, the 
 pieces separated ; they did not stick to- 
 gether in the least. He afterwards tied 
 these pieces together again, and boiled them 
 in water ; and he found, when he untied 
 them, that they did not stick together. 
 
 There was one part of a winter's evening 
 which Frank liked particularly ; it was the 
 half hour after dinner, when the window- 
 shutters were shut, and the curtains let
 
 132 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 down, and the fire stirred, so as to make a 
 cheerful blaze, which lighted the whole 
 room. 
 
 His father and mother did not ring the 
 bell for candles, because they liked to sit a 
 little while after dinner, by the light of 
 the fire. 
 
 Frank's father used often, at this time, to 
 play with him, or to talk to him. 
 
 One evening, after his father had been 
 playing with Frank, and had made him 
 jump, and run, and wrestle, and laugh, till 
 Frank was quite hot, and out of breath, he 
 knelt down upon the carpet, at his father's 
 feet, rested his arms upon his father's knees, 
 and, looking up in his father's face, he said, 
 " Now, papa, whilst I am resting myself so 
 happily here, will you tell me something en- 
 tertaining ? " 
 
 But, just as Frank said the word " enter- 
 taining," the door opened, and/ the servant 
 came into the room with lighted candles. 
 
 ' O candles ! I am sorry you are come ! " 
 cried Frank. 
 
 " O candles ! T am glad you have come," 
 said his father ; " for now I can see to read an 
 entertaining book, which I want to finish." 
 
 " But, papa," said Frank, "cannot you sit 
 still, a little, little while longer, and tell me 
 some short thing ? " 
 
 " Well, what shall I tell you ? " 
 
 " There are so many things that I do not
 
 FRANK. 133 
 
 know, papa, I do not know which to ask for 
 first. I want to know whether you have 
 ever seen a camel ; and I want to know where 
 silkworms are found, and how they make silk ; 
 and I want to know how people weave linen 
 in a loom, and how wool of sheep is made into 
 such coats as we have on. And O father ! 
 I wish very much to know how the fat of 
 animals is made into candles. 
 
 " You promised to tell me, or to show me. 
 how that was done. And O ! more than 
 all the rest, I wish to know how plates, and 
 jugs, and cups, and saucers, and flower-pots, 
 are made of clay and whether they are 
 made of clay such as I have in my garden. 
 And I want very much to know where tea 
 comes from ; and " 
 
 " Stop, stop ! my dear Frank," said his 
 father ; " it would take up a great deal more 
 of my time than I can bestow upon you, to 
 answer all these questions. I cannot answer 
 any of them to-night ; for I have a great 
 many other things to do. The first thing you 
 asked me, I think, was, whether I had ever 
 seen, a camel. I have ; and the print I am 
 going to show you is very much like the 
 animal that I saw ; and you may read his 
 history ; and then you will know all that I 
 know of camels ; and when you have sat- 
 isfied your curiosity about camels, I can lend 
 you another book, in which you rnay read 
 the history of silk- worms."
 
 134 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Thank you, papa," said Frank ; "I shall 
 like to read these things very much ; only I 
 cannot read quick yet, papa ; and there are 
 words sometimes which I cannot make out 
 very well." 
 
 " If you persevere," said his father, " you 
 will soon be able to read without any diffi- 
 culty. But nothing can be done well with- 
 out perseverance. You have showed me 
 that you have a great deal of perseverance, 
 and " 
 
 " Have I, papa ? " interrupted Frank ; 
 "when did I show that to you?" 
 
 " The morning when you tried, for an 
 hour and a half, to put the joining map 
 together." 
 
 " And at last I did put it together." 
 
 " Yes ; you succeeded, because you per- 
 severed." 
 
 " Then," said Frank, " I will persevere, 
 and learn to read easily, that I may read all 
 the entertaining things that are in books ; 
 and then I shall be as glad when the candles 
 come as you were just now, papa."
 
 PRANK 
 
 PART III. 
 
 FRANK was very fond of playing at battle- 
 door and shuttlecock ; but he could not al- 
 ways play when he liked, or as long as he 
 liked it, because he had no battledoor or 
 shuttlecock of his own. He determined to 
 try to make a shuttlecock for himself; but 
 he had no cork for the bottom of it, and he 
 had only five feathers, which belonged to an 
 old, worn-out shuttlecock. They were ruf- 
 fled and bent. His mother was very busy, 
 so that he did not like to interrupt her, to ask 
 for more feathers ; and his father was out 
 riding, so that Frank could not ask him for a 
 cork. His brother Edward advised tym to 
 put off trying to make his shuttlecock, till his 
 mother was not busy, and till his father 
 should return from riding ; Frank was so 
 impatient, that he did not take this prudent 
 advice. He set to work immediately, to 
 make the bottom of his shuttlecock of one 
 end of the handle of his pricker, which he 
 sawed off, because he thought that it re- 
 sembled the bottom of a shuttlecock in shape
 
 13b EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 more than any other bit of wood which he 
 possessed. When he tried to make holes in 
 it for the feathers, he found that the wood 
 was extremely hard; he tried, and tried, in 
 vain ; and, at last, snap went the end of the 
 pricker. It broke in two ; and Frank was 
 so sorry that he began to cry ; but recollect- 
 ing that his tears would not mend his pricker, 
 he dried his eyes, and resolved to bear the 
 loss of it like a man. He examined the stump 
 of the pricker, which he held in his hand, 
 and he found that there was enough of the 
 steel left, to be sharpened again ; he began to 
 file it as well as he could ; and, after taking 
 some pains, he sharpened it ; but he did not 
 attempt to make any more holes in the sharp 
 wood, lest he should break the pricker again. 
 He said to himself, " Edward gave me good 
 advice, and I will now take it. I will wait till 
 my father comes home, and till my mother is 
 not busy ; and then I will ask them for what 
 I want." 
 
 The next day his father gave him a cork, 
 and his mother gave him some feathers ; and, 
 after several trials, he at last made a shut- 
 tlecock, which flew tolerably well. He was 
 eager to try it, and he ran to his brother Ed- 
 ward, and showed it to him, and Edward liked 
 the shuttlecock, but could not then play, 
 because he was learning his Latin lesson. 
 
 "Well! I will have patience till to-mor- 
 row, if I can," said Frank.
 
 FRANK. 137 
 
 It happened, this same evening, that Frank 
 was present when his brother Edward, and 
 three of his cousins, were dressing, to act a 
 pantomime. They were in a great hurry. 
 They had lost the burnt cork with which 
 they were to blacken their eyebrows. They 
 looked every where that they could think of 
 for it, but, all in vain ; and a messenger came 
 to tell them that every body was seated, and 
 that they must begin to act the pantomime di- 
 rectly. They looked with still more eager- 
 ness for this cork, but it could not be found ; 
 and they did not know where to get another. 
 
 " I have one ! I have one ! I have a cork ! 
 you shall have it in a minute ! " cried the 
 good-natured little Frank. He ran up stairs 
 directly, pulled all the feathers out of his 
 dear shuttlecock, burnt the end of the cork 
 in the candle, and gave it to his friends. 
 They did not know, at this moment, that it 
 was the cork of Frank's shuttlecock : but, 
 when they afterwards found it out, they 
 were very much obliged to him ; and when 
 his father heard this instance of his good 
 nature, he was much pleased. He set Frank 
 upon the table before him, after dinner, when 
 all his friends were present, and said to him, 
 " My dear little son, 1 am glad to find that 
 you are of such a generous disposition. Be- 
 lieve me, such a disposition is of more value 
 than all the battledoors and shuttlecocks in 
 (he world ! you are welcome to as many 
 19
 
 138 EARLY LESSONS, 
 
 corks and feathers as you please : yon, who 
 are so willing to help your friends in theif 
 amusements, shall find that we are all ready 
 and eager to assist you in yours." 
 
 Close to the garden, which Frank's mother 
 had given to him, there was a hut, in which 
 garden tools and watering pots used formerly 
 to be kept ; but it had been found to be too 
 small for this purpose, and a larger had been 
 built in another part of the kitchen-garden. 
 Nothing was now kept in that which was 
 near Frank's garden, but some old flower- 
 pots and pans. Frank used to like to go into 
 this hut, to play with the flower-pots ; they 
 were piled up higher than his head ; and one 
 day, when he was pulling out from the un- 
 dermost part of the pile a large pan, the 
 whole pile of flower-pots shook from bottom 
 to top, and one of the uppermost flower-pots 
 fell down. If Frank had not run out of the 
 way in an instant, it would have fallen on his 
 head. As soon as he had a little recovered 
 from his fright, he saw that the flower-pot 
 had been broken by the fall, and he took up 
 the broken pieces, arid went into the house, 
 to his mother, to tell her what had happened. 
 He found his father and mother sitting at the 
 table, writing letters ; they both looked up 
 when he came in, and said, 
 
 " What is the matter, Frank ? you look 
 very pale."
 
 FHANK. 139 
 
 " Because, mamma, I have broken this 
 flower-pot." 
 
 "Wed, my dear, you do rightly to come 
 and tell us that you broke it. It is an ac- 
 cident. There is no occasion to be fright- 
 ened about it." 
 
 " No. mamma ; it was not that which fright- 
 ened me so much. But it is well, that I did 
 not break my own head, and all the flower- 
 pots in the garden house." 
 
 Then he told his mother how he had 
 attempted to pull out the undermost pan, 
 and how " the great pile shook from top to 
 bottom." 
 
 "It is well you did not hurt yourself, in- 
 deed, Frank ! " said his mother. 
 
 His father asked if there was a key to the 
 door of the hut. 
 
 "Papa, there is an old, rusty lock, but 
 no key." 
 
 " The gardener has the key; I will go for 
 it directly," said his father, rising from his 
 seat ; " and I will lock that door, lest the boy 
 should do the same thing again." % 
 
 " No, papa," said Frank ; " I am not so 
 silly as to do again what I know might 
 hurt me." 
 
 " But, my dear, without doing it on pur- 
 pose, you might, by accident, when you are 
 playing in that house, shake those pots, and 
 pull them down upon yourself. Whenever 
 there is any real danger, you know I always
 
 140 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tell you of it, and it is much better to prevent 
 any evil, than to be sorry for it afterwards 
 I will go this minute and look for the key t 
 and lock the door," continued his father. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, stopping him, " you 
 need not go for the key, nor lock the door ; 
 for, if you desire me not to play in the old 
 garden house, I will not play there ; I will 
 not go in, I promise you ; I will never even 
 open the door." 
 
 " Very well, Frank ; I can trust to your 
 promise. Therefore, I want no lock and 
 key. Your word is enough." 
 
 " But only take care you do not forget, 
 and run in by accident, Frank," said his 
 mother : " as you have such a habit of going 
 in there, you might forget." 
 
 "'Mamma, I will not forget my promise," 
 said Frank. 
 
 A few days after this time, Frank's father 
 and mother were walking in the garden, and 
 they came to the old garden house, and they 
 stopped and looked at the door, which was a 
 little open. This door could not be blown 
 open by the wind, because it stuck against 
 the ground at one corner, and could not be 
 easily moved. 
 
 " I assure you, mamma, I did not forget ; I 
 did not open it ; I did not go in, indeed 
 papa," said Frank.
 
 FRANK. 141 
 
 His father answered, " We did not sus- 
 pect you of having opened the door, Frank." 
 
 And his father and mother looked at one 
 another, and smiled. 
 
 His father called the gardener, and desired 
 that he would not open the door of the old 
 garden house ; and he ordered that none of 
 the servants should go in there. 
 
 A week passed, and another week passed, 
 and a third week passed, and again Frank's 
 father and mother were walking in the gar- 
 den ; and his mother said, 
 
 " Let us go and look at the old garden 
 house." 
 
 His father and mother went together, and 
 Frank ran after them, rejoicing that he had 
 kept his promise ; he never had gone into 
 that house, though he had been often tempt- 
 ed to do so, because he had left there a little 
 boat, of which he was very fond. When his 
 father and mother had looked at the door of 
 the garden house, they again looked at each 
 other, and smiled, and said, 
 
 " We are glad to see, Frank, that you 
 have kept your word, and thaL you have 
 not opened this door." 
 
 " I have not opened the door, papa," 
 answered Frank ; " but how do you know 
 that, by only looking at it ? " 
 
 " You may find out how we know it ; and 
 we had rather that you should find it out
 
 142 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 than that we should tell it to you," said his 
 father. 
 
 Frank guessed, first, that they recollected 
 exactly how far open the door had been left, 
 and that they saw it was now open exactly 
 to the same place. But his father answered, 
 that this was not the way ; for that they 
 could not be certain, by this means, that the 
 door had not been opened wider, and then 
 shut again to the same place. 
 
 " Papa, you might have seen the mark in 
 the dust, which the door would have made 
 in opening. Was that the way, papa? " 
 
 " No ; that is a tolerably good way ; but 
 the trace of the opening of the door might be 
 effaced, that is, rubbed out, and the ground 
 might have been smoothed again. There is 
 another circumstance, Frank, which, if you 
 observe carefully, you may discover." 
 
 Frank took hold of the door, and was going 
 to move it ; but his father stopped his hand. 
 
 " You must not move the door ; look at it 
 without stirring it." 
 
 Frank looked carefully, and then ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " I've found it out, papa ! I've found it out ! 
 I see a spider's web, with all its fine thin rings 
 and spokes, like a wheel, just at the top of 
 the door ; and it stretches from the top of the 
 door to this post, against which the door 
 shuts. Now, if the door had been shut or 
 opened wider, this spider's web would have
 
 FRANK. 
 
 143 
 
 been crushed ov broken ; the door could not 
 have been shut or opened without breaking 
 it. May I try, papa ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 He tried to open the door, and the spider's 
 web broke, and that part of it, which had 
 been fastened to the door, fell down, and 
 hung against the post. 
 
 " You have found it out now, Frank, you 
 see," said his father. 
 
 His mother was going to ask him if he 
 know how a spider makes his web ; but she 
 stopped, and did not then ask him this qiies-
 
 114 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tion, because she saw that he was thinking 
 of his little boat. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Frank ! you may go into 
 the house now," said his mother, " and take 
 your little boat." 
 
 Frank ran in, and, seizing it, hugged it in 
 his arms. 
 
 " My dear little boat, how glad I am to 
 have you again ! " cried he ; " I wish I might 
 go to the river side this evening, and swim 
 it; and there is a fine wind, and it woula 
 sail fast." 
 
 Frank was never allowed to go to the river 
 side, to swim his boat, without his father or 
 mother, or eldest brother, could go with him. 
 
 'Mamma, will you" said he "can 
 you be so good as to go with me, this evening, 
 to the river side, that I may swim my boat ? " 
 
 His mother told him that she had intended 
 to walk another way ; but that she would 
 willingly do what he asked her, as he had 
 done what she desired. His father said the 
 same, and they went to the river side. His 
 father walked on the banks, looking till he 
 saw a place where he thought it would be safe 
 for Frank to swim his boat. He found a 
 place where the river ran in between two 
 narrow banks of land; such a place, Frank's 
 father told him, in large rivers, is called a 
 creek. 
 
 The water in this creek was very shal- 
 low ; so shallow that you could see the sand
 
 FRANK. 
 
 J15 
 
 and many colored pebbles at the bottom ; 
 yet it was deep enough for Frank's little boat 
 to float upon it. Frank put his boat into the 
 water he launched it and set the sail to 
 the wind ; that is, turned it so that the wind 
 blew against it, and drove the boat. on. 
 
 It sailed swiftly over the smooth water, 
 and Frank was happy looking at it and di- 
 recting it various ways, by setting or turn- 
 ing the sail in different directions, and then 
 watching which way it would go. 
 
 "Mamma," said he, after his mother had 
 remained a good while, " you are very good- 
 natured to stay with me so long ; but I am 
 13
 
 146 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 afraid you will not have time to come again 
 to-morrow ; and, if you cannot, I shall not 
 have the pleasure of swimming my boat. 
 Papa, the water is so very shallow here, and all 
 the way along this creek, that, if I was to fall 
 in, I could not drown myself; and the banks 
 are so close, that I could walk to them and 
 get on dry land, directly. I wish, papa, you 
 would let me come here whenever I please, 
 without any body with me ; then I should 
 not be obliged to wait till mamma had time, 
 or till my brother Edward had done his les- 
 son ; then I could swim my boat so happily, 
 papa, whenever I pleased." 
 
 " But how can I be sure that you will 
 never go to any other part of the river, 
 Frank ? 
 
 " You know, papa, I did not open the door, 
 or go into the garden house, after yon had 
 desired me not, and after I had promised that 
 I would not ; and, if I promise that I will 
 not go to any other part of the river, you 
 know you can believe me." 
 
 " Very true, Frank, and therefore I grant 
 your request. I can trust to your doing what 
 I desire you to do ; and I can trust to your 
 promise. You may come here whenever 
 you please, and sail your boat in this creek, 
 from the stump of this willow-tree, as far in 
 this way towards the land as you please." 
 
 Frank clapped his hands joyfully, and 
 cried, " Thank you, papa ! thank you. Mam-
 
 FRANK. 147 
 
 ma, do you hear that ? Papa has given m6 
 leave to come to this place whenever I 
 please, to .swim my boat ; for he trusts to my 
 promise, mamma." 
 
 " Yes, that is a just reward for you, Frank," 
 said his mother. " The being believed 
 another time, and the being more and more 
 trusted, is the just reward for having done as 
 you said that you would do, and for having 
 kept your promise." 
 
 "O, thank you, mamma; thank you, papa, 
 for trusting to my promise ! " said Frank. 
 
 " You need not thank me, my dear, for be- 
 lieving you," said his father ; " for I cannot 
 help believing you, because you speak truth. 
 Being believed, is not only the reward, but 
 the necessary consequence, of speaking truth." 
 
 Next morning, at breakfast, Frank's father 
 told him, that, if all the flower-pots were car- 
 ried out of the old garden house, and if they 
 were removed without being broken, he 
 would give the empty hut to Frank for his 
 own. 
 
 " For my own ! " cried Frank, leaping 
 from his chair with delight " For my own, 
 papa ! And do you mean that I may new 
 roof it, and thatch it?" 
 
 " If you can," said his father, smiling. 
 " You may do what you please with it, as 
 soon as the flower-pots are removed, but not
 
 148 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 till then ; they must all be carried to the 
 house at the other end of the garden, before 
 I give you the hut. How will you get this 
 done, Frank? for you are not tall enough to 
 reach to the uppermost part of the pile your- 
 self: if you begin at the bottom, you will 
 pull them all down, and hurt yourself, and 
 you will break them, and I should not give 
 you the house." 
 
 " Papa, perhaps the gardener " 
 
 "No, the gardener is busy." 
 
 Frank looked round the breakfast-table at 
 his brother Edward, and at his three cousins, 
 William, Charles, arid Frederick ; they all 
 smiled, and immediately said that they would 
 undertake to carry the flower-pots for him. 
 
 The moment they had eaten their break- 
 fast, which they made haste to finish, they 
 all ran out to the old garden house. Edward 
 took a wooden stool, mounted upon it, and 
 handed down carefully the uppermost of the 
 garden pots to his cousins, who stood below, 
 and they carried them into the new garden 
 house. 
 
 As all these boys helped one another, and 
 worked with good will, and in good order, 
 the great pile was soon carried away ; so soon, 
 that Frank was quite surprised to see that it 
 xvas gone. Not one flower-pot was broken. 
 Frank ran to tell his father this ; and his 
 father went out and saw that the garden pots 
 had been safely removed ; and then he gave
 
 FRANK. 
 
 149 
 
 the house to Frank, and put the key of it 
 into his hand. 
 
 Frank turned to his brother Edward and 
 his cousins, and said, " Edward, how good 
 you and my cousins were to help me ! " 
 
 "You deserved that we should do tbis for 
 you," said Edward. " We do not forget 
 how good-natured you were to us about the 
 cork of your shuttlecock. When we were 
 in distress, you helped us ; so it was lair that 
 we should help you, when you wanted it." 
 
 " Yes," said his father ; " those, who are 
 ready to help others, generally find others
 
 150 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ready to help them. This is the natural and 
 just reward of good-nature." 
 
 "Reward! papa," said Frank; "that 
 word you used several times yesterday, and 
 again to-day, and it always puts rne in mind 
 of the time when you gave me my Bewick 
 on Quadrupeds. You gave it to me, do you 
 remember? as a reward for having, as you 
 wrote in the book, cured myself of a foolish 
 habit. I recollect, that was the first time I 
 ever exactly understood the meaning of the 
 word reward." 
 
 "And what do you understand, Frank, by 
 the word reward 1 " said his father. 
 
 " O papa ! I know very well ; for mam- 
 ma then told me, a reward is something we 
 likp, something we wish to have, something 
 papa, I thought I could explain it bet- 
 ter ; I cannot explain it in words ; but I 
 know what it. is. Will you explain it to me 
 again, papa ? " 
 
 " Do you try first, if you understand what 
 it means ; and if you will stand still, and have 
 a little patience, you will perhaps be able to 
 find words to express your thoughts. Try, 
 and do not look back at the dear hut ; the 
 hut is there, and will not run away ; you 
 will have time enough, all the morning and 
 all the evening, to play in it, and to do what 
 you please with the roof of it. So now 
 stand still, and show me that you can com-
 
 FRANK. 151 
 
 mand your attention for a few minutes. 
 
 \Vhat is a reward' 1 " 
 
 Frank, after he had considered for a few 
 moments, answered, 
 
 " A reward is something that is given to 
 us for having done right ; no, it is not al- 
 ways a thing, for though the first reward that 
 was given to me was a thing, a book, 
 yet I have had rewards that were of a dif- 
 ferent sort. That was a reward to me yes- 
 terday about the boat ; and when you, papa, 
 or when mamma praises me, that is a sort of 
 reward." 
 
 " It is," said his father. 
 
 " Papa, I believe," continued Frank, "that 
 a reward is any sort of pleasure, which is 
 given to us for doing right. Is it, papa ? " 
 
 " It is, my dear. Now answer me one or 
 two more questions, and then I will reward 
 your patience, by letting you go to your hut." 
 
 " I am not thinking of that now, papa; I 
 will stay and answer as many questions as 
 you. please." 
 
 " Then, what do you think," said his fa- 
 ther, '' is the use of rewards ? " 
 
 " To make me to make all people do 
 right, I believe." 
 
 " True ; and how do rewards make you, or 
 make other people, do right ? " 
 
 " Why, " Frank paused, and con- 
 sidered a little while. 
 
 "Papa> you know I like, and all other
 
 152 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 people like, to have rewards, because they 
 are always pleasures ; and, when I know I 
 am to have a reward, or when I hope, even, 
 that I shall be rewarded for doing any right 
 thing, I wish, and try, to do it ; and, if I 
 have been rewarded once, I think I shall be 
 rewarded again for doing the same sort of 
 thing again ; and, therefore, I wish to do it. 
 
 " And even, if I have not had the reward 
 myself, if I have seen another person reward- 
 ed for doing something well, I think and 
 hope that, perhaps, I may have the same if I 
 do the same, and that makes me wish to do 
 it. When you gave John, the gardener's 
 boy, a little watering pot, because he had 
 made a net for the cherry-trees, 1 remember 
 I wished to make a net too, because I hoped 
 that you would give me a watering pot ; and 
 when mamma praised my brother Edward, 
 and gave him a table, with a drawer in it, as 
 a reward for keeping his room in order. I be- 
 gan to try to keep my room in better order ; 
 and you know, Edward, I have kept it in 
 order, in better order, ever since, papa ; that 
 is all I can think of, about the use of rewards 
 I cannot explain it better." 
 
 " You have explained it as well as I ex- 
 pected that you could, Frank. Now run off 
 to your hut, or your house, whichever you 
 please to call it."
 
 FRANK. 153 
 
 Frank found that there were holes in the 
 thatch of his house, and that, when it rained, 
 the rain came through these holes and wetted 
 him, and spoiled the things which he kept in 
 his house ; therefore, he wished to mend the 
 thatch. He went to his father, and asked 
 him if he would be so good as to give him 
 some straw. 
 
 His father said that he would, if Frank 
 would do something for him which he want- 
 ed to have done. 
 
 " I will do any thing I can for you, papa," 
 said Frank. " What is it ? " 
 
 " Look at these laburnums, Frank," said 
 his father. " Do you see a number of black- 
 ish, dry pods hanging from the branches ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa, a great number." 
 
 " Do you know what those pods contain ? " 
 
 " Yes ; little, black, shining seeds ; the 
 seeds of the laburnum-tree." 
 
 "I want to have all those seeds, that I 
 may sow them in the ground, and that I 
 may have more laburnum-trees. Now, 
 Frank, if, before the sun sets this evening, 
 you bring me all those seeds, I will give you 
 straw enough to mend the thatch of your 
 house." 
 
 " Thank you, papa. I will work very 
 hard, and gather them as fast as 1 can." 
 
 Frank ran for his basket, and began to pluck 
 the pods from the lower branches of one of 
 the laburnums. Soon he had filled his basket
 
 154 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 with the* pods ; and then those which he 
 tried to cram in at the top of the basket 
 sprang up again, and fell over the sides ; so 
 he began to make a heap on the ground of 
 the pods which he afterwards pulled from the 
 tree. When he had finished gathering all 
 that he could reach from the lower branches 
 of one tree, he went to the lower branches 
 of the next, and made a heap under that 
 tree ; and so on. There were nine labur- 
 num-trees ; and when he had got to the ninth 
 tree, and was pulling the seeds from that, he 
 heard a rustling noise behind him ; and, turn- 
 ing round, he saw Pompey, the little dog, 
 dragging the laburnum seeds about in his 
 mouth. 
 
 " O Pompey ! Pompey ! let those alone ! " 
 cried Frank. 
 
 But as fast as he drove him from one heap, 
 Pompey ran to another, and scratched and 
 scattered about the heaps with his feet, and 
 snatched up the pods in his mouth, and 
 scampered with them over the garden, while 
 Frank ran after him ; till at last he caught 
 the dog ; and, in spite of Pompey's strug- 
 gling, carried him out of the garden, and shut 
 the door. When he had put Pompey out, he 
 collected all his pods together again ; and, 
 just when he had done so, the gardener 
 opened the garden door, and Pompey was 
 squeezing in between the gardener's legs ; 
 but Frank called aloud, to beg that the gar-
 
 FRANK. 
 
 dener would keep him out ; and, every time 
 any body opened the garden door, Frank was 
 obliged to watch, and to call to them, making 
 the same request. This was so troublesome, 
 and interrupted him so often, that Frank 
 thought it would be better to carry his heaps 
 of pods into his garden house, and lock the 
 door, so that Pompey could not get in to pull 
 them about. Frank carried the heaps, drop- 
 ping many pods by the way, and going 
 backwards and forwards so often, that this 
 took up a great deal of time. He heard the 
 clock strike three. 
 
 " Three o'clock already ! " said Frank to 
 himself, looking at the number of pods 
 which hung on the upper branches of the 
 laburnums. " How much I have to do, and 
 how little I have done ! O Pompey ! Pompey !
 
 156 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 you don't know the mischief you have done 
 me," said he, as the dog squeezed his way in, 
 when the gardener again opened the garden 
 door. 
 
 " Indeed, master," said the gardener, " I 
 cannot keep him out." 
 
 " Well, Pompey, come in ! you cannot do 
 me any more harm. Now you may run 
 snu filing about the garden as much as you 
 please, for my seeds are safe locked up." 
 
 But, though the pods were safe, yet it 
 wasted Frank's time sadly to lock and un- 
 lock the door every time he had a fresh 
 basket-full to throw into the house ; and he 
 was obliged to keep the basket hanging al- 
 ways upon his arm, lest Pompey should get 
 at it. Frank lost time, also, in jumping up 
 and down every five minutes from the stool, 
 on which he was obliged to stand to reach 
 the pods from the higher branches, and mov- 
 ing his stool from place to place took up 
 time. Presently, he had gathered all that he 
 could reach when standing upon the stool, 
 even when he stood on tiptoe, and stretched 
 as far as he could possibly reach. Then there 
 was time lost in fixing a step-ladder, which 
 his father lent to him, upon condition that 
 he should never get upon it till he had fixed 
 it quite steadily, and had put in a certain 
 prop, all which required some minutes to 
 settle properly. The running up and down 
 this ladder, with his basket, continually, as it
 
 FRANK 157 
 
 was filled, tired Frank, and delayed him so 
 much, that he got on with his business very 
 slowly, though he worked as hard as he 
 could. 
 
 The morning passed, and the evening 
 came ; and, after dinner, Frank jumped from 
 his chair as soon as the table-cloth was taken 
 away,- and said he must go to his work, for 
 that he was afraid he should not be able to 
 finish it before sunset. His brother Edward 
 and his three cousins said that they would 
 help him, if his father had no objection. His 
 father said that he had no objection ; that he 
 would be glad that they should help Frank, 
 because he had worked hard, and had been 
 so good humored when the little dog had 
 hindered him. 
 
 Frank ran to the laburnum-trees, followed 
 by his brother and cousins, rejoicing. As he 
 went, he said, "Now we shall get on so 
 quick! as quickly as we did when you all 
 helped me to move the flower-pots." 
 
 " Yes," said Edward, " and for the same 
 reason." 
 
 " Yes, because there are so many of us," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " And for another reason," said Edward. 
 
 " What other reason ? " 
 
 " Look, and you will see," said his father. 
 
 Then Edward settled, that each person 
 should do so, that they might each do what 
 they could do best, and that they might help
 
 158 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 one another, and do what they wanted, as 
 quickly as they could. Edward was to stand 
 upon the ladder, because he was the tallest, 
 and he could reach most easily to the upper- 
 most branches of the tree ; he was not obliged 
 to run up and down the ladder, to carry the 
 seeds ; because Frank was appointed to col- 
 lect and carry the pods off, as fast as Edward 
 gathered and threw them to the ground. 
 Frederick and William sat on the grass at the 
 door of the hut, where the great heap had 
 been collected ; and it was Charles's business 
 to supply them with pods, from which they 
 shelled the seeds. As soon as Edward had 
 finished pulling all the seeds from the trees, 
 he joined Frederick and William, and helped 
 to shell the seeds that is, to pick them out of 
 the pods ; and as soon as Frank had brought 
 from underneath the trees all the pods that 
 had been thrown there, he was set to open 
 the pods, ready for the pickers ; and Charles, 
 who had by this time brought out all that 
 were in the hut, was now employed con- 
 stantly in collecting and throwing into a heap 
 the empty husks ; because it was found, that 
 time had been lost in searching the empty 
 husks, which had been often mistaken, at 
 first sight, for full pods. 
 
 "Ay," said Frank, "now I see the other 
 reason that you meant, Edward ; I see why 
 we go on so quickly and well ; because each
 
 FRANK. 1 59 
 
 person does one thing, and the thing he can 
 do best ; so, no time is lost." 
 
 No time was lost. And they finished their 
 work, had the laburnum seeds shelled and 
 collected in a brown paper bag, and all the 
 rubbish and husks cleared away, just as the 
 s"un was setting. 
 
 "Here are mamma and papa coming to see 
 if we have done ! " cried Frank ; " and we 
 have done. Come, papa; come as quickly 
 as you please ; here are the seeds all ready ! 
 But do you know, papa," continued Frank, 
 as he put the bag of seeds into his father's 
 hands, " it was as much as ever we could do ? 
 for I lost so much time this morning. It was 
 all we could do to make up for it this even- 
 ing. And, though there were so many of us, 
 and though we all went on as fast as we 
 could, I am sure we should never have fin- 
 ished it in time if we had not managed as 
 we have done." 
 
 His father asked him in what manner they 
 had managed. Frank explained, and showed 
 how they had divided the work among them, 
 so as to save time. His father told him that 
 manufacturers and workmen, who are obliged 
 to do a great deal of work in a short time, 
 always, if they are wise, help one another, 
 and save time, in the same manner that he 
 and his brother and cousins had done. " And 
 this," added he, turning to Edward " this is 
 what is called the division of labor
 
 160 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 "In making this pin," continued he, taking 
 a pin from Frank's mother, "in making 
 a pin, eighteen different workmen are em- 
 ployed. In a manufactory for making pins, 
 each workman does that part which he can 
 do best. One man draws out the wire, of 
 which, the pins are made ; another straight- 
 ens it ; a third cuts it ; a fourth grinds it at 
 the top, ready to receive the heads. To make 
 the heads, requires the different work of two 
 or three men. Another man's business is to 
 put on the heads ; another's, to sharpen the 
 points ; and sticking the pins in the papers is 
 a business by itself. Now, one workman, if 
 he was to try to make a pin, without any 
 assistance from others, could not, probably, 
 make a single pin ; certainly he would not be 
 able to make twenty in a day. But, with 
 even nine men to assist him, dividing the 
 labor amongst them, as I have described to 
 you, they could, altogether, make forty-eight 
 thousand pins in a day ; so that each of the 
 ten men might be reckoned to make four 
 thousand eight hundred pins." 
 
 " Ten men make forty-eight thousand 
 pins in a day ! " cried Frank ; " and one man 
 four thousand eight hundred pins ! O papa ! 
 is this true ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe it is true," said his father. 
 "When we go in, your brother Edward shall 
 read to us an account of this, if he likes it
 
 FRANK. 161 
 
 from the book in which I read it.* But, 
 Frank, look ! what comes here ! " added his 
 father, pointing to a laborer, who now came 
 into the garden with a great bundle of straw. 
 " Where would you like to have it put ? " 
 
 Frank chose to have it in his garden 
 house ; and his father ordered that it should 
 be put there. Then Frank thanked his 
 brother and cousins for helping him so kindly ; 
 and he said, that he thought he should never 
 forget the advantage of the division of labor. 
 
 Some time ago, Frank had told his father 
 that he would persevere in trying to learn 
 to read, that he might be able to employ 
 and to entertain himself. He did as he 
 said that he would do. He persevered, till 
 he had learned to read quite easily. Then 
 
 * " I have seen a small manufactory of this kind," ( viz., of 
 pin-making,) " where ten men only were employed, and where 
 some of them, consequently, performed two or three distinct 
 operations. But, though they were very poor, and therefore 
 but indifferently accommodated with the necessary machinery, 
 they could, when they exerted themselves, make, among them, 
 about twelve pounds of pins in a day. There are, in a pound, 
 upwards of four thousand pins, of a middle size. Those ten 
 persons, therefore, could make upwards of forty-eight thousand 
 pins in a day. Each person ; therefore, making a tenth part of 
 forty-eight thousand pins, might be considered as making four 
 thousand eight hundred pins in a day. But, if they had all 
 wrought separately and independently, and without any of them 
 having been educated to this peculiar business, they certainly 
 could not, each of them, have made twenty, perhaps not one 
 pin in a day ; that is, certainly, not the two hundred and fortieth 
 part of what they are at present capable of performing, in con- 
 sequence of a proper division and combination of their differen 
 operations." Smith's Wealth of Natwns, vol. i. p. fi, quarto ed 
 
 14
 
 J()2 EARLV LESSONS. 
 
 he read, in books which his rr other lent 
 him, accounts of the camel ; of which, ever 
 since he had seen the print of it, he had 
 wished to know the history. He read, also, 
 entertaining accounts of the elephant, and of 
 many other animals. In the books which 
 were lent -to him, he read only what he could 
 understand ; when he came to any thing that 
 he did not understand, he asked his father or 
 mother to explain it to him. If they had not 
 time to attend to him, or to answer his ques- 
 tions, he went on to some other part of the 
 book, which he could understand ; or he left 
 off reading, and went to do something else. 
 Whenever he felt tired of reading, or when- 
 ever he wanted to hear or see something 
 that was going on in the room with him, and 
 found that he could not attend to what he 
 was reading, he always shut the book and 
 put it away ; he never kept the book before 
 him when he was tired, or sleepy, or when 
 he was thinking of something else. 
 
 So Frank became very fond of reading. 
 
 He could now employ himself happily 
 on rainy days, when he could not run out 
 of doors, or when he had no one to talk or 
 to play with in the house. At night, when 
 the candles came, and when all the rest of 
 the family began to read, Frank also could 
 read; and he said, 
 
 " Papa, mw I am as happy as you ara
 
 FRANK. 163 
 
 when the candles come ! Thank you, mam- 
 ma, for teaching me to read." 
 
 His mother gave him a book called " The 
 Book of Trades" When she gave it to 
 him, she said to him, 
 
 " Frank, there are many parts of this book 
 which you cannot yet understand ; but you 
 will, I think, be entertained by looking over 
 the prints of the men and women at work at 
 their different trades, and you will understand 
 some of the descriptions of what they are 
 doing." 
 
 Frank thanked his mother, and he looked 
 over all the prints in the four volumes of this 
 book. He looked at each print carefully, 
 and examined every thing in it before he 
 turned over the leaf, to look for another. 
 
 He was pleased with the print of the 
 chandler, making candles ; and of the shoe- 
 maker, making shoes ; and of the turner, 
 turning at his lathe ; and of the rope-maker, 
 making ropes ; and of the weaver, working 
 at his loom. After he had looked at these 
 prints, he read some of the explanations and 
 descriptions, in hopes that he should be better 
 able to understand the prints. He began 
 with the chandler, who, as his mother told 
 him, is a person who makes candles; and 
 Frank was curious to know how candles are 
 made. But there were several words, in this 
 account of candle-making, of which he did 
 not know the meaning ; and there was ono
 
 164 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 whole sentence, about bales of cotton perform' 
 ing quarantine, which puzzled him sadly. 
 His mother explained to him several of the 
 words which he did not understand ; but she 
 told him, that she could not then explain to 
 him what was meant by performing quaran- 
 tine ; and that he could understand how 
 candles were made, without having this sen- 
 tence explained to him. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, " I do now know 
 pretty well how they are made ; but I think 
 I should understand it all a great deal better, 
 if I were to see it done. Mamma, I wish I 
 could see somebody making candles." 
 
 A few days afterwards, Frank's mother 
 called him to her, and told him that the cook 
 was going to make some candles. " Should 
 you like to see them made, Frank ? " 
 
 " Yes, very much indeed ! " said Frank ; 
 " thank you, mamma, for calling me." 
 
 Then his mother took him to the room 
 where the cook was preparing to make mould 
 candles. The first thing he saw was a large 
 saucepan, which the cook had taken oft" the 
 fire to cool. Frank asked what was in the 
 saucepan. He was told that it was full of 
 melted mutton-suet. Some suet, which had 
 not been melted, was shown to him ; he said 
 that it looked like cold fat, and he was told 
 that this suet was the fat of mutton. 
 
 The next thing which Frank saw was a 
 wooden frame, or stand, about the height of
 
 FRANK. 165 
 
 a common table. In this stand were a num- 
 ber of round holes, through each of which 
 hung a tube, or hollow pipe, of pewter, the. 
 size of a caudle. These hollow pipes were 
 taper ; that is, narrower at one end than at 
 the other, and growing narrower arid narrower 
 by degrees. The largest ends were upper- 
 most, as the pipes hung in the frame ; so that 
 they looked like the shape of candles, with 
 the part that is usually lighted hanging down- 
 wards ; at the narrow end, these pewter 
 tubes were made in the shape of the top 
 of a tallow candle, before it is lighted. 
 
 " Mamma, I know what this is ! " cried 
 Frank ; " and I know what it is for. It is the 
 same sort of thing which I saw in the print 
 of the tallow chandler, in the Book of Trades. 
 These pipes are the moulds in which the 
 candles are to be made ; the melted stuff the 
 melted suet is to be poured into this open 
 mouth, and it runs all the way down, down. 
 Then it is left to cool, and then it is pulled out, 
 and the candle is made ; this broadest end is 
 the bottom of the candle, which is to go into 
 the candlestick, and this narrow end the top.; 
 it is hanging upside-down now. You see I 
 understand it all, mamma ! " 
 
 <k Stay, Frank ; do not be in such a hurry ; 
 do not be too quick. You do not understand 
 it all, yet. You have not observed or dis- 
 covered some things, in these moulds, which 
 are necessary to be known ; and you have
 
 166 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 forgotten the most material part of a can- 
 dle." 
 
 " What can that be, mamma? Tell me, 
 pray." 
 
 " I would rather that you should think, 
 and find it out for yourself, Frank." 
 
 Frank considered a little, and then an- 
 swered, 
 
 " Mamma, I have thought of every thing, 
 and I can think of nothing else. Here are the 
 moulds, and the melted grease, which is to 
 be poured into the moulds, to make the 
 candle. What can be wanting ? " 
 
 " How would you light the candle ? " said 
 his mother. 
 
 " By the wick, to be sure ! O the wick ! 
 I forgot the wick ! Where is the wick ? 
 What is the wick made of ? " 
 
 " It is made of cotton. Look here, mas- 
 ter ! " said the cook, showing him a ball of 
 coarse cotton. 
 
 " And how do you get this cotton into the 
 middle of the candle ? " 
 
 " That I will show you, sir," said the cook. 
 
 She then took one of the candle-moulds 
 out of the wooden frame, in which it hung ; 
 and Frank looked at the narrow end, which 
 had hung downwards, and he saw, at the 
 bottom, a little hole ; and he said, 
 
 " Here is a little hole ; this must be 
 stopped, or else all the melted tallow will run 
 through it. Shall I stop it up with this bit
 
 FRANK. 167 
 
 of paper, mamma? I will roll it up and 
 make a stopper, shall I ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, master ! " said the cook. 
 " You shall see how I will stop it up." 
 
 Then she doubled the cotton, which she 
 held in her hand ; and she cut off as much as 
 would reach from one end of the candle- 
 mould to the other, and a little more. Then 
 she put the cotton, just where she had 
 doubled it, in at the broadest end of the 
 mould, and she let it fall all down the pipe, 
 to the small hole, at the narrow end ; and by 
 means of a wire, she drew the cotton through 
 the hole, leaving a loop of cotton, as long as 
 that which is commonly seen at the wick of 
 a tallow candle which has not been lighted. 
 Then she stuck a peg of wood into the little 
 hole ; this peg, together with the cotton 
 which had been put through the hole, 
 stopped it up completely, so that none of the 
 melted tallow could rim through it. She 
 next tied the other ends of the cotton to- 
 gether, and put a small bit of wood, like a 
 skewer, through the loop which she had 
 made by tying the cotton together. This 
 skewer lay across the broad end of the 
 mould, and fitted into . two notches, in the 
 outer rim of the mould, at opposite sides. 
 The cotton was now tight in the mould, 
 from top to bottom. Frank looked into the 
 mould, and saw that it was so. 
 
 " Cook, why are you so careful to make
 
 108 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 the cotton tight, and to put it just in the 
 middle of the mould ? " said Frank. 
 
 " That the wick of my candle may be in 
 the middle," said the cook. " In good can- 
 dles, the wick must always be in the middle." 
 
 When the cook had put cotton, in the same 
 manner, into all the moulds, she was ready to 
 pour the melted tallow into them. Frank 
 was afraid that the tallow had grown cold, 
 because the saucepan, in which it was, had 
 been taken off the fire some time. But the 
 cook said, it was quite warm enough ; that 
 it would not make good candles if it was 
 very hot. As Frank now went close to the 
 large saucepan, he saw that there was a 
 smaller saucepan withinside of it. The small- 
 er saucepan held the melted tallow ; and, 
 between the large and the smaller saucepan, 
 the space was filled with water ; both at 
 the sides and at the bottom, between the 
 small and large saucepan, there was water. 
 Frank asked the reason of this. 
 
 The cook answered, " Master, it is to hin- 
 der my tallow from burning, or being made 
 too hot ; which would spoil it, as I told you." 
 
 " But how does the water hinder the tal- 
 low from being made too hot ? for the water 
 is hot itself, is it not ? " 
 
 " It is, master ; but still it keeps the tallow 
 from being too hot ; I can't say how ; but I 
 know it is so, and I always do it so."
 
 FRANK. 
 
 169 
 
 " But I ask the reason ; I want to know 
 the reason, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " I will endeavor to explain the reason to 
 you some other time, my dear," said his 
 mother ; " but, first, let us look at what the 
 cook is doing, that you may not miss seeing 
 how candles are made." 
 
 Frank looked, and he saw the cook replace 
 all the pewter moulds in the wooden frame, 
 with the narrow ends downwards, and the 
 broadest ends uppermost ; and into the open 
 mouth of the broadest end, which was upper- 
 most, she poured, carefully and slowly, the 
 15
 
 170 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 melted tallow, from the spout of the sauce- 
 pan, into each of the candle-moulds. She 
 poured it not over the cotton, at the top, but 
 on each side of it, so as to leave the cotton, 
 and the skewer that was put through it, 
 standing above the grease, when the mould 
 was rilled nearly to the top. When this was 
 done, the cook said that they must leave the 
 tallow to cool ; and that it would be some 
 time before it would be cool. 
 
 Frank went away with his mother, and he 
 asked her if she could now answer the ques- 
 tion about the hot water. But just then his 
 father called her, and she had not time to 
 answer Frank. 
 
 She was busy the rest of the morning, and 
 Frank went to his garden, and worked in it : 
 when he was tired of working, he trundled 
 his hoop upon the walk, and kept it up till 
 he was tired of running after it. It began to 
 rain ; and then he went into the house, and 
 learned by heart some of the multiplication 
 table, which his mother had desired him to 
 learn. 
 
 Some company dined, this day, with his 
 father and mother ; and his mother could not 
 talk to him again till after the company had 
 gone away, in the evening. Frank was glad 
 when the company was gone, and when his 
 mother had again time to attend to him.
 
 FRANK. 171 
 
 The next day, Frank asked his mother to 
 take him to look at the candles ; he said that 
 he hoped the cook had not taken them out of 
 the moulds, for he wished to see that done. 
 The cook had not taken them out ; for his 
 mother had desired that she should not do 
 this till Frank should be present. The first 
 thing the cook did was to pull out the pegs, 
 which she had stuck between the cotton of 
 the wick into the little holes, at the smallest 
 end of the moulds; then she took hold of the 
 cotton loop, through which the bit of stick 
 had been put, at the larger end of the mould, 
 and she drew it up gently ; and with the 
 cotton came the tallow, out of the mould, in 
 the shape of a candle ; and as it came out, 
 Frank exclaimed, 
 
 " It is a real candle, indeed ! Shall we 
 light it, mamma ? " 
 
 " Not yet, my dear. It is not hard enough. 
 It must be hung up for two or three days, be- 
 fore it will be fit to be used." 
 
 The cook drew all the candles out of the 
 moulds, and she hung them up to harden. 
 
 "Well, now, mamma, I have observed 
 carefully all that has been done ; and I have 
 not been too quick, have I ? I have learned 
 something accurately, as you say. Now I 
 know how to make candles ! " 
 
 " You have seen how candles are made , 
 that is, you have seen how mould candles are 
 made. These are called mould candles be-
 
 172 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 cause they are made in a mould ; but there 
 are other ways of making candles." 
 
 " Yes, I remember the man in the Book of 
 Trades says, that there are dipped candles, as 
 well as mould candles." 
 
 " Yes, master," said the cook ; " the dipped 
 candles are made by dipping the wick into the 
 tallow, then letting it dry, and then dipping it, 
 again into the tallow ; and every time, more 
 and more sticks to the candle ; and it is left 
 to dry, between every dipping ; till, at last, 
 it is the size the candle should be. Then, 
 besides dipped candles, and mould candles, 
 there are rushlights, master ; such as the 
 poor people use here, in their cottages, you 
 know." 
 
 " I do not know," said Frank. " Tell me, 
 what are rushlights ? Are they made of 
 rushes ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " O, tell me how they are made ! " 
 
 " If I can, I will take you this evening to 
 the cottage of that good-natured old woman 
 who showed you her spinning-wheel," said 
 Frank's mother ; " and I will ask her to show 
 you how rushlights are made." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma. Are there any 
 other sorts of candles ? " 
 
 " There is another sort, which you have 
 seen, and that is not made of tallow." 
 
 " I recollect wax candles, mamma." 
 
 " They may be made nearly in the same
 
 FRANK. 173 
 
 manner that dipped tallow candles are made 
 only that melted wax is poured over the 
 wick, instead of the wick being dipped into 
 the wax. The wax candle is rolled upon a 
 smooth table, to make it smooth and round. 
 There are other ways of making wax- 
 candles ; but I will not tell you any more at 
 present, lest you should not be able to re- 
 member all that you have seen and heard." 
 
 " But, mamma, tell me one thing more," 
 said Frank, as he followed his mother up 
 stairs. " Wax, I know, is made by bees, and 
 wax candles are made of wax ; but there is 
 another kind of wax candle, or of candle that 
 looks like wax. It has a long, hard name, 
 which I cannot remember." 
 
 " Do you mean spermaceti ? " 
 
 " Yes spermaceti. What is that ? " 
 
 " Spermaceti is a fatty substance prepared 
 from the brain of a species of whale. You 
 have seen the print of a whale, and have read 
 an account of a whale ? " 
 
 "Yes; the great fish the largest of 
 fishes I remember : I never should have 
 guessed that candles were made from any 
 part of a fish. Mamma, what a number of 
 things we must know, before we can know 
 well how any one thing is made, or done." 
 
 " Very true, my dear little boy ; and I am 
 glad to see that you wish to acquire, or get 
 knowledge." 
 
 His mother could not talk to him any more
 
 174 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 this morning ; but, in the evening, she called 
 him, and said, " Now, Frank, you may walk 
 with your father and me to Mrs. Wheel- 
 er's cottage." 
 
 " To the good-natured old woman's ? O, 
 I am glad of that, mamma ! " said Frank. 
 
 He ran for his hat, and he was ready in an 
 instant ; for he was happy to go with his 
 father and mother. It was a fine evening, 
 arid the walk was pleasant, through pretty 
 paths, in green fields ; and there were several 
 stiles, which Frank liked to get over. He 
 showed his father how quickly he could get 
 over them. 
 
 " Look, papa, how well I can jump ! how 
 I can vault over this stile ! You know, you 
 said that men ought to be active ; now, papa, 
 am not I active ? " 
 
 Frank ran on, without waiting for an 
 answer ; and he ran till he came to a rivulet, 
 or a little river, or brook, which crossed the 
 path. There he stopped, and stood still, for 
 there was only a narrow plank, or board, 
 across the stream ; and the hand-rail, by 
 which Frank used to hold when he walked 
 over, had been broken since he had last been 
 at this place. The rail had fallen into the 
 water, and there was nothing by which 
 Frank could hold. His father and mother 
 came up to him. 
 
 " Frank," said his father, " what is the 
 matter ? You look very melancholy."
 
 FRANK. 
 
 " Yes, papa ; because I am afraid we must 
 turn back. We cannot go on." 
 
 " Why not, my dear ? " 
 
 " Look at this broken bridge, papa " 
 
 " Broken hand-rail of a bridge, you mean, 
 Frank. The bridge is not broken. This 
 plank is as broad and as strong as it was be- 
 fore ; and you know you have walked over it 
 safely. You see it will bear my weight, 
 and I am much heavier than you are," said 
 his father, standing on the plank. 
 
 " Yes, papa ; so I see." 
 
 " And you see," said his father, walking 
 over the bridge, " you see that I can walk 
 over it, though there is no hand-rail."
 
 176 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Yes, papa, so I see," said Frank ; but he 
 stood still, without attempting to follow his 
 father. 
 
 " Come on, my boy," said his father ; " un- 
 less you mean to stand there all night." 
 
 " No, papa yes, papa. Mamma, will 
 
 you go first ? " 
 
 His mother went over the bridge ; still 
 Frank felt afraid to follow ; but when his 
 father said, " Men ought to be brave ; boys 
 should conquer their fears," Frank tried to 
 conquer his fear ; and he put his foot upon 
 the bridge, and his father held out his hand 
 to him, and he walked on, slowly at first, and 
 quicker afterwards, till he got quite across. 
 Then he said, 
 
 " Papa, I will go back again, and do it 
 better." 
 
 He went back again, and walked quite 
 stoutly over the plank ; his father holding 
 his hand. And then he said, 
 
 " Papa, I will do it without holding your 
 hand." 
 
 So he did. And he went backwards and 
 forwards two or three times, till he had quite 
 conquered his fear. Then he felt glad and 
 pleased with himself, especially when his 
 mother smiled upon him, and said, 
 
 " That is right, Frank, my dear. This 
 puts me in mind of a little boy who conquered 
 his fear, as you have done." 
 
 " Who was that, mamma ? '
 
 FRANK. 177 
 
 " A little boy, who was younger than you 
 are." 
 
 " Was it a real boy, mamma ? And is 
 
 it a true story ? " 
 
 " It is a true story, of a real boy. He \vas 
 about five years old." 
 
 " Much younger than I am ! " cried Frank. 
 " Well, mamma." 
 
 " When this little boy was taken to the 
 sea-shore, to be bathed, for the first time, in 
 the sea, he was afraid, when he saw the wave 
 of the sea coming, and when he felt it going 
 over him." 
 
 " So should I have been, I dare say, 
 mamma." 
 
 " But he was ashamed of having been 
 afraid, and he was determined to conquer his 
 fear ; and he turned to the sea, and said, 
 ' Wave, do that again ! Wave, come over me 
 again ! ' And the next time he showed no 
 fear." 
 
 " What was the name of the boy, mamma, 
 and who were his father and mother ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell you their names, my dear; 
 but I can tell you that the boy is son to the 
 greatest general, the greatest hero, in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "The greatest hero? O! then I know 
 who he is, mamma." 
 
 When they came to Mrs. Wheeler's cot-
 
 178 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 tage, Frank's father went into a field, near 
 the house, with the old woman's son, to look 
 at a fine crop of oats ; and Frank's mother 
 took him into the house, where they found 
 Mrs. Wheeler getting ready her grandson's 
 supper. She stopped doing what she was 
 about, when she saw Frank and his mother. 
 She looked glad to see them, and said 
 "You are welcome, madam; you're wel- 
 come, master ; be pleased to sit down." 
 Then she set a chair for madam, and a little 
 stool for master, and she swept the hearth 
 quite clean ; and she called to a little girl, of 
 about six years old, who was in the room, 
 and bade her run to the garden, and gather 
 some strawberries, and bring them in for 
 Frank. Frank thanked this good-natured 
 old woman ; but he said, 
 
 " I did not come to beg strawberries ; and, 
 though I love strawberries very much, I do 
 not wish to have any of yours, because I be- 
 lieve you have but very few for yourself. 
 What I want you to do for me is to show me 
 how you make rush candles." 
 
 " That I will with pleasure, master," said 
 Mrs. Wheeler. 
 
 " But, Mrs. Wheeler, first finish what you 
 were about when we came in," said Frank's 
 mother ; " I believe you were getting ready 
 your supper." 
 
 "It 'is George's, my grandson's supper, 
 madam."
 
 FRANK. 179 
 
 " Then it is not fair, that your George 
 should lose his supper because my Frank 
 wants to see rushlights made," said Frank's 
 mother, smiling. 
 
 "That is true," said Frank ; "and I dare 
 say, that her George, mamma, will be very 
 hungry when he comes in, for I saw him 
 working hard in the fields ; and I am always 
 very hungry when I have been working 
 hard. Pray, Mrs. Wheeler, finish getting 
 ready George's supper. I can wait as long 
 as you please ; and I wish I could do some- 
 thing for you, as you are going to do some- 
 thing for me. Let me carry those sticks to 
 the fire I can do that and you may go 
 on with your cooking." 
 
 " God bless you, master ; " said the old 
 woman ; " but this is too great a load for your 
 little arms." 
 
 " Let me try," said Frank. 
 
 " Yes ; let him try," said his mother ; " he 
 loves to be useful." 
 
 " And I am useful too ! " cried Frank, 
 carrying the great bundle of sticks to the fire. 
 
 His mother began to show him how to put 
 them on the fire. 
 
 " But," said she, " some of these are wet, 
 and they will not burn readily." 
 
 " Ay," said the old woman. "I am afraid 
 that is a wet bundle. I topk it from the 
 wrong place ; yonder, in that corner, are all 
 the dry fagots."
 
 180 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Prank had never heard the word fagots 
 before, and he did not hear it quite plainly 
 now ; but he saw what the old woman 
 meant, because she pointed to the place 
 where the fagots lay. So he ran directly for 
 another bundle of sticks, and he carried it 
 towards the fire ; and, throwing it down be- 
 side his mother, said, 
 
 " There, mamma, there's another maggot, 
 and a dry maggot, for you ! " 
 
 " Fagot, not maggot" said his mother. 
 
 "Maggot! " cried the old woman, laugh- 
 ing, with her arms akimbo ; " Lord bless him ! 
 don't he know the difference between a mag- 
 got and a fagot ? " 
 
 " What is the difference ? " said Frank. 
 
 " Why, master ! a maggot ! Lord help 
 us ! " the old woman began, as well as she 
 could speak while she was laughing. 
 
 " Mamma," said Frank, turning to his 
 mother, " Mamma, I would rather you would 
 tell me ; because you will tell me without 
 laughing at me." 
 
 The old woman, who saw that Frank did 
 not like to be laughed at, but who could not 
 stop herself, turned her back, that he might 
 not see her ; but he saw her sides shaking 
 all the time his mother was explaining to 
 him the difference between maggot and 
 fagot. 
 
 " A maggot is a small worm ; and a fagot 
 is a bundle of sticks."
 
 FRANK. 181 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Frank. 
 
 " Well, Frank, now I have told you, can 
 you tell me, what is a maggot and what is a 
 fagot ? " 
 
 " A maggot, mamma, is Mamma, I 
 
 did not hear ; I could not attend to what you 
 said, because " 
 
 The old woman walked out of the room, 
 and stood laughing in the passage. 
 
 "Mamma," whispered Frank, "I shall not 
 call Mrs. Wheeler my good-natured old wo- 
 man any more, because she is laughing 
 at me." 
 
 " Then, Frank, I am afraid I cannot call 
 you my good-humored little boy any more. 
 What harm does her laughing do you, 
 Frank ? Let us see has it broken any of 
 your bones ? " 
 
 "No," said Frank, smiling ; "but I don't 
 like to be laughed at much ; especially for 
 not knowing any thing." 
 
 " Then, to avoid being laughed at again 
 for the same thing, had not you better learn 
 that which you did not know ? " 
 
 " I had. Now, mamma," said Frank, 
 turning his back to the door, so that he could 
 no longer see Mrs. Wheeler " now, if you 
 will be so good as to tell me again, I will at- 
 tend, if I possibly can ; but I was so much 
 
 ashamed, mamma " 
 
 My dear," said his mother, " there is
 
 182 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 nothing shameful in not knowing the mean- 
 ing of words which you never heard before. 
 When you have not done any thing wrong or 
 foolish, never mind being laughed at ; a man 
 should never mind being laughed at for a 
 trifling mistake." 
 
 " Mamma, I will never mind. Tell 
 
 me now, and I will show you I never 
 mind." 
 
 His mother repeated to him the explana- 
 tion of the two words ; and as soon as he 
 knew this, he ran to the door, and called out 
 very loud, 
 
 " A maggot is a small worm ; and a fagot is 
 a bundle of sticks ! You need not laugh any 
 more, Mrs. Wheeler." 
 
 " O master ! I ask your pardon ; I will 
 not laugh any more ; I was very rude ; I ask 
 your pardon. But I'm foolish, and could 
 not help it ; I hope you are not angry, 
 master. I hope," said Mrs. Wheeler, coming 
 back into the kitchen, and courtesying, " you 
 are not angry, madam." 
 
 " Mamma is not angry at all," said Frank, 
 " and I was only a little angry ; and it is over 
 now. Come in, come in," said he, pulling 
 her by the hand, " and look how well the 
 fire is burning, that I and mamma that 
 mamma and I made." 
 
 " Bless your little soul, that forgives and 
 forgets in a minute ! " said the old woman
 
 FRANK. 1 83 
 
 i I wonder Hannah is not in with the straw- 
 berries." 
 
 " I don't want the strawberries yet," said 
 Frank ; " you have not put the pot on the 
 fire, to boil the supper for George. Won't 
 you put it on now ? "
 
 FRANK 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER put the pot on, and, while 
 the supper was boiling for George, she 
 showed Frank how to make rushlights. 
 First, she took down from a hook, on which 
 they hung, a bundle of rushes. Frank had 
 seen rushes growing, in a field near his 
 father's house ; and he had gathered ?jme 
 of them, and had peeled them ; and he knew 
 that, in the inside of the rush, there is a 
 white, soft substance, called pith. But when 
 he had attempted to peel rushes, he had al- 
 ways been a great while about it, and he had 
 seldom been able to peel more than about 
 the length of his finger of the rush without 
 breaking the white pith. Mrs. Wheeler in 
 an instant stripped the rush of its thick 
 green outside, all except one narrow stripe / 
 or rind, of green, which she left to support 
 the soft pith ; and she peeled, without break- 
 ing it, the whole length of the pith con- 
 tained in the rush, which was almost as long 
 as Frank's arm.
 
 FRANK. 185 
 
 " Can you guess, Frank, what part of a 
 candle this rush is to be ? " said his mother. 
 
 Prank thought for a little while, and then 
 answered, that he supposed the rush would 
 be made into the wick of the candle, and 
 that it would serve instead of the cotton 
 which he had seen used by the cook in 
 making mould candles. 
 
 "Yes, master, you have guessed right," 
 said Mrs. Wheeler. 
 
 Then she brought from a corner near the 
 fire a gresset, or small pan, in which there 
 was melted grease. Frank gave the rush to 
 her, to dip into it ; but she said that it would 
 not make a good rush candle, because it had 
 not been left to dry for some days. She took 
 another peeled rush from a bundle which 
 hung up in a press by the fireside. This, 
 which had hung there, as she said, for two or 
 three days, was drier, and less white, than 
 that which had been freshly peeled ; she 
 drew the rush through the melted grease, and 
 she said, 
 
 " It will be cool, and fit to bum, in about 
 five minutes." 
 
 In about five minutes it was cool, and the 
 old woman lighted it, and it burned ; but 
 there was so much daylight in the room, as 
 the setting sun was shining full upon the 
 window, that the light of the small rush can- 
 dle could scarcely be seen. Therefore Mrs. 
 Wheeler took it into another room, at the op- 
 16
 
 186 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 posite side of the house, where the sun did 
 not shine at this time. There, when she had 
 shut the shutters, the flame of the rushlight 
 was plainly seen. Frank observed that this 
 rush candle did not give nearly so much 
 light as a thick tallow candle did. Mrs. 
 Wheeler said, that she could not afford to 
 buy tallow candles often, and that these rush- 
 lights were enough for her. Frank per- 
 ceived that, after he had been a little while 
 in this room, he could see the things in it 
 better than he did when the shutters were 
 first closed, and when his eyes had been 
 dazzled by the sunshine. He was surprised 
 to find that he could make out the words at 
 the bottom of a print to which the old wo- 
 man held the light. 
 
 " Mamma, I could scarcely see it before, 
 and now I can see it quite plainly, and I will 
 read it to you." 
 
 He read aloud, 
 
 "For want of a nail, the shoe was lost ; 
 For want of a shoe, the horse was lost." 
 
 Just as Frank got to "the horse was lost,'' 
 the rushlight was burnt out. 
 
 " O, is the candle gone so soon ? " cried 
 Frank. "Mamma," continued Frank, turn- 
 ing to his mother, whilst Mrs. Wheeler 
 opened the shutters, "Mamma, you know 
 such a candle as that would last, at home, the 
 whole night; several hours a rush candle 
 lasts at home, mamma."
 
 FRANK. 187 
 
 " Do you think that the candles being at 
 makes any difference as to their burn- 
 ing ? " said Frank's mother, smiling. 
 
 " No, no, mamma," said Frank, laughing ; 
 " I know that the rush candles, which we 
 have at home, would burn as long a time here 
 as they do at our house. But I mean that ours 
 burn longer, because there is more grease, or 
 tallow, about them. Mamma, if there was no 
 tallow about this rush, would it burn at all ? 
 or would it burn away a great deal sooner 
 than it does now ? " 
 
 " Try, and you will see, my dear," said his 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Wheeler gave Frank a peeled rush, 
 and he lighted it at the fire, and it burned ; 
 but the flame was not bright, and it soon 
 went out. Frank dipped it into the grease, 
 and it burned better. Mrs. Wheeler went to 
 see if George's supper was ready ; and Frank 
 continued talking to his mother : 
 
 " Mamma, I believe it is the melted grease 
 that burns, and makes the bright flame of the 
 candle ; but I do not know how. Mamma, 
 what becomes of the grease, or the tallow, 
 when the candle burns ? " 
 
 ' Do not you see the smoke that rises 
 from the top of the flame ? " said his mother. 
 
 " Yes, mamma, I see the smoke ; but 
 what has that to do with what I asked 
 you? " 
 
 " Do you not know what that smoke is ?
 
 188 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Do not you remember your father's showing 
 you, one evening after tea, the difference be- 
 tween smoke and steam ? " 
 
 " I remember, mamma, steam comes from 
 water, when it is made hot ; I remember 
 papa showed me the steam, the vapor rising 
 from the hot water in the tea-urn ; and I 
 recollect papa held a cold plate over it, and 
 showed me that the cold turned the vapor 
 back again into water; I saw the drops of 
 water condensed; I remember the word. 
 And I recollect he afterwards held a plate over 
 the candle, and said that what rose from the 
 candle was smoke, not steam ; I do not re- 
 member about the smoke ; I recollect only 
 that the plate was blackened which was held 
 over the candle, and that the plate was not 
 wet ; but I do not know exactly how it was." 
 
 " Did you never hear any thing more about 
 smoke ? " said his mother. 
 
 " O yes ! I recollect papa told me that 
 smoke, when cold, became soot, and fell 
 down to the ground, or stuck to any cold 
 thing that was near it." 
 
 "Just so the smoke of the candle is the 
 vapor of melted tallow, which boils by the 
 heat of the candle ; and when this vapor 
 is condensed by cold, it becomes soot, such as 
 ^ou see sticking to the ceilings, where many 
 candles are used ; soot is frequently collected, 
 on purpose, upon plates held over lamps, and 
 is then called lampblack."
 
 FKANK. 189 
 
 " Mamma, once I saw, in the little, little 
 barrel, at the time the painter was going to 
 paint the black board, at the bottom of your 
 room, some light, black powder. Was that 
 lampblack ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, that was lampblack ; and 
 it is used for paint, and for making blacking 
 for shoes and boots." 
 
 " Very well, mamma, I understand that ; 
 but I want to go back to the candle ; the 
 melted tallow the vapor of boiling tallow 
 makes the candle burn, and keeps the candle 
 burning. Mamma, I do not know how, and 
 why, the candle burns. And what is the 
 flame ? " 
 
 " Frank, till you have more knowledge, I 
 will not attempt to explain that to you," said 
 his mother. " But, whenever you can under- 
 stand it, you shall read all that is known 
 about the burning of a candle. You will 
 find it in that book which your brother Ed- 
 ward was reading yesterday ' Conversa- 
 tions on Chemistry.' ' 
 
 " Ay, that book which he likes so much. 
 But, mamma, I do not like it. Edward said 
 to me, ' Don't interrupt me. Frank ; I am 
 busy ; I am very happy, reading this.' Mam- 
 ma, I got up behind his chair, and began try- 
 ing to read over his shoulder ; but I did not 
 like the book much." 
 
 " No, because you did not understand it at 
 all."
 
 190 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " And I am afraid I shall never understand 
 it," said Frank. 
 
 " Do you not understand parts of books 
 now, Frank, which you did not understand 
 when you began to learn to read ? " 
 
 " Yes, parts of ' Evenings at Home,' and 
 parts of ' Sandford and Merton,' which I diu 
 not understand, and did not like, last year ; 
 and now I like them very much." 
 
 " Then you may hope that the time will 
 come, if you try to improve yourself, when 
 you will understand and like ' Conversations 
 on Chemistry,' as your brother now does. 
 Even what you have seen and learned this 
 evening will help you a little." 
 
 Just then, Frank looked out of the window, 
 and he saw the little girl, who had been sent 
 for strawberries, coming along the path 
 which led to the house. She brought a 
 basket of fine strawberries. The old woman 
 set a little deal table in the porch, where the 
 honeysuckles, which hung over the roof of 
 the porch, smelled very sweet. The sun 
 was setting, and it was cheerful and pleasant. 
 
 " Look, master Frank ! I have strawber- 
 ries for you, and for myself, too ! " said Mrs. 
 Wheeler. " My George takes care of my 
 garden, and I have plenty of fruit and flow- 
 ers ; these honeysuckles, that smell so sweet, 
 are all his planting." 
 
 Frank's father returned from the oat field, 
 where he had been ; and Frank and his
 
 FRANK. 191 
 
 father and mother sat in the porch covered 
 with honeysuckles, and ate strawberries and 
 cream. 
 
 After Frank had eaten as many strawber- 
 ries as he liked, he and his father and mother 
 thanked the good-natured old woman, and 
 his mother put into the little girl's hand some 
 money. The girl courtesied, and smiled, and 
 looked happy. 
 
 Then Frank followed his father and moth- 
 er out of the cottage, and his father said, that 
 they would walk home by a new way, 
 through the oat field, and afterwards through 
 a neat farm-yard, and round by a pretty lane, 
 which would take them to the bridge. Frank 
 did not hear what his father said ; and his 
 father, turning his head back, saw Frank 
 walking slowly behind him, and looking as 
 if he was thinking intently of something. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Frank ? " said 
 his father. 
 
 " I am thinking, papa, about money." 
 
 " What about money, Frank ? " 
 
 " I am thinking how happy that little girl 
 looked when mamma gave her some money, 
 and how glad people always look when 
 money is given to them. The reason, I 
 know, is because they can buy things with 
 money bread and meat, or clothes, or balls 
 and tops, and playthings, or houses, chaises,
 
 192 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 or any thing they wish for. But, papa, I 
 wonder that the people who have bread and 
 meat, and clothes, and tops, and balls, and all 
 sorts of pretty or useful things, are sc foolish 
 as to give them for little bits of gold, or 
 silver, or copper, which are of no use." 
 
 " No use ! My dear, recollect that you 
 have just said that they are of use, to buy any 
 thing people want or wish for. Suppose you 
 had two tops, and that you wanted to have a 
 ball, instead of one of your tops ; you might 
 sell one of your tops, and with the money 
 that would be paid to you for your top, you 
 might buy a ball." 
 
 " But, papa, why could not I change one 
 of my tops for a ball, without buying or sell- 
 ing, or having any thing to do with money ? " 
 
 " Your top is worth more than a ball ; 
 however, you might, if you liked it, exchange 
 your top for a ball ; but it is not so easy to 
 make exchanges of heavy and large things 
 as of light and small things ; you cannot 
 carry large or heavy things for instance, 
 coals or cows about with you, to exchange ; 
 and yet one man may have more coals, and 
 another more cows, than he wants ; and, if 
 they wish to exchange these, then it is con- 
 venient to give money, which can readily be 
 carried in the pocket." 
 
 Frank did not quite understand what his 
 father meant ; his father said that it was too 
 difficult for h m to comprehend, and that he
 
 FRANK. 103 
 
 should only puzzle him, if he talked to 
 him any more about it, yet. 
 
 " Papa," said Frank, looking a little morti- 
 fied, " I am sorry that there are so many 
 things that I cannot understand yet. What 
 shall I do ? " 
 
 " Attend to those things which you can 
 understand, my dear boy ; and then you will 
 learn more and more, every day and every 
 hour. Here are men reaping oats. Look at 
 the sickle with which they are cutting 
 down the oats. Did you ever see a sickle 
 before ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Frank remembered having seen sickles last 
 autumn, when his mother took him to see 
 some men reaping wheat ; and he said he 
 recollected that the bundles of the wheat, 
 which the men bound together and set up- 
 right on their stalks, were called sheaves, and 
 that the top of each separate stalk of wheat 
 is called the ear. 
 
 His father bade him run and gather an ear 
 of barley, which was growing in the next 
 field, on the left hand, and also an ear of 
 wheat, which was growing in a field on the 
 right hand; and when Frank had gathered 
 these, his father showed him the difference 
 between oats, barley, and wheat. Frank 
 knew that wheat is made into bread, and 
 that barley and oats are sometimes made into 
 bread, and that oats are eaten by horses 
 17
 
 194 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 But there is another use of barley, which ha 
 did not know. 
 
 " Did you ever taste beer, Frank ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Do you know of what beer is made ? " 
 
 " I think my brother Edward told me that 
 it is made of malt and hops ; and he once, 
 when the brewer was brewing, showed me 
 some hops ; he said that hops gave the bitter 
 taste to beer. But, papa, I do not know 
 what malt is." 
 
 " Malt is corn, that has been made to begin 
 to grow again, and that is not suffered to 
 grow a long time. Corn, you know, is a 
 name for many kinds of grain ; as wheat, 
 barley, maize, oats, and rye." 
 
 " How do they make it grow a little ? " 
 said Frank. 
 
 " By wetting the grain and heaping it up, 
 which makes it hot ; then it swells, and the 
 grain becomes soft ; and, if it is opened, it is 
 found to contain a kind of flour. I think I 
 once gave you some malt to taste. Do you 
 remember the taste of it, Frank? " 
 
 "Yes, papa; it has a sort of sweet taste." 
 
 " Well ; when the malt has swelled, and 
 is ready to burst, they stop its growth by 
 taking it out of the heap, and spreading it 
 upon the ground, and at last by putting it 
 into a place that dries the corn, and prevents 
 it from growing any more." 
 
 " Papa, you showed me such a place at Mr.
 
 FRANK. 195 
 
 Crawford's, the maltster's, and he called it a 
 kiln. And what do they do next to the 
 malt ? " 
 
 " They then brew it, and make beer of it." 
 " I know that. But how do they brew it, 
 papa ? " 
 
 " I cannot explain that to you, now, my 
 dear ; but the next time the brewer comes, I 
 will take you into the brewhouse, and you 
 may then see part of what is done to make 
 beer of malt." 
 
 Whilst Frank's father had been talking 
 about malt and beer, they had walked 
 through two or three fields, and they came 
 to a neat farm house. 
 
 The man to whom the house belonged 
 came out, and said, 
 
 " How do you do, landlord ? Madam, you 
 are welcome. Will you walk in my yard, 
 sir, and look at my new barn, which I am 
 just now thatching ? " 
 
 " Pray, papa, take me with you," said 
 Frank ; " for I want very much to know 
 how to thatch the old garden house better." 
 
 His father took him to the yard. When 
 they came there, Frank saw, lying on the 
 ground, on one side of the yard, a great heap 
 of straw, and on the other side he saw a 
 bundle of hay, of which horses were eating. 
 As he was passing between the heap of straw
 
 195 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and the bundle of hay, Frank heard his 
 mother tell his father, that she once knew a 
 young lady, who had lived till she was four- 
 teen years old in the country, and yet who 
 did not, at that age, know the difference 
 between straw and hay. 
 
 Frank laughed, and said, " What a very 
 ignorant young lady that must be, mamma ! 
 I know the difference between straw and 
 hay perfectly ; this on my right hand is 
 straw, and this on my left hand is hay. 
 Cows and horses eat hay, but they do not eat 
 straw ; beds are sometimes made of straw ; 
 and hats, and a great many things, are made 
 of straw ; and houses are thatched with 
 straw, and not with hay. You see, mamma, 
 I know a great deal more than that young 
 
 lady, though she was fourteen. How very 
 
 old ! " 
 
 " But all this time you have not told me, 
 Frank, what hay is, and what straw is." 
 
 " Hay is grass dried, and straw is the 
 stalks of wheat. You know, mamma, last 
 autumn I saw the men threshing I saw 
 the corn that was threshed out of the 
 ears ; and what was left, after the corn was 
 beat out, you told me was called chaff; and 
 the stalks, mamma, you told me were to be 
 called straw." 
 
 " Well remembered, Frank," said his fa- 
 ther. " Perhaps, if the poor ignorant young 
 lady of fourteen had, at your age, had as kind
 
 FRANK. 197 
 
 a mother as you have, and had been told and 
 shown all these things, she might have re- 
 membered them as you do. But, Frank, 
 the stalks of wheat are not the only stalks 
 that are called straw. The stalks of wheat 
 are called wheat straw, but there are other 
 kinds of straw. The stalks of oats, and of 
 barley, and of rye, are all called straw." 
 
 " Which kind of straw is the best for 
 thatching houses, papa ? " 
 
 " Wheat straw, I believe," said his father. 
 
 By this time, they had come to the barn 
 which the man was thatching. Frank looked 
 up attentively a little while, and then said, 
 
 " The man is so far above me, papa, that I 
 cannot well see how he fastens on the straw. 
 May I go up this ladder, papa ? " 
 
 Frank pointed to a ladder which stood 
 beside that on which the thatcher was at 
 work. Frank's father made him no answer, 
 till he had examined if the ladder was firmly 
 fixed ; and then he told Frank that he might 
 go up. 
 
 " I will follow you, Frank," added he, 
 " to take care of you, when you get to the 
 top." 
 
 " No, papa, thank you, you need not ; for 
 1 am not at all afraid, because I know so well 
 how to go up and down a ladder." 
 
 Frank ran to the ladder, and a maid 
 servant, who was milking a cow in the yard, 
 cried out,
 
 198 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Master ! master ! dear young master ! 
 What are you about? Don't go up the 
 ladder, or you'll break your pretty little 
 legs." 
 
 Frank laughed, and began to go up the 
 ladder directly. He had been accustomed to 
 go up and down a step ladder, which his 
 father had in his library. Formerly, when 
 he was a very little boy, he had not been al- 
 lowed to go up that ladder, and he never had 
 gone up it till his father gave him leave. And 
 now, he was proud of being permitted to 
 mount a ladder. So he went up ; and when 
 he was half way up, he turned back his
 
 FRANK. 199 
 
 head to look at the maid, who had hid her 
 face with her hands. Frank laughed more 
 and more at her fright. 
 
 "Take care, Frank; mind what you are 
 about ; hold fast by the sides of the ladder. 
 You are in much more danger now than you 
 were in crossing the plank over the brook ; 
 for, if you miss a rung, ( a step of the lad- 
 der,) you will fall and hurt yourself very 
 much. There is no courage in being care- 
 less. ' ' 
 
 Frank knew that his father told him the 
 truth about danger, as well as about every 
 thing else, and he always attended to what 
 his father advised ; therefore he left off 
 laughing, and he took care to hold fast, and not 
 to miss any rung of the ladder. He found 
 that this ladder was much higher than that 
 which he had been used to go up ; his father 
 was behind him ; he reached the topmost rung 
 safely, and his father put one of his arms 
 round Frank, and held him, for his head 
 grew a little giddy ; and he had not been 
 used to look down from such a height. In a 
 few minutes, when his attention was fixed on 
 what the thatcher was doing, he forgot this 
 disagreeable feeling ; and he was entertained 
 by seeing the manner in which the house 
 was thatched. 
 
 " Papa, I see that he puts on the straw 
 quite differently from what I did, when I was 
 trying to thatch the house in my garden."
 
 200 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Why, how did you put on the straw ? " 
 
 " I put it in bundles upon sticks, that 
 made the roof." 
 
 " What do you mean by bundles ? " 
 
 " I took as much as I could grasp, or hold 
 in my hand, and I put it on the wooden roof, 
 not quite like steps, but one above another." 
 
 " And you found that the rain came in be- 
 tween every bundle, did not you ? " 
 
 " I did, indeed ; and I was very sorry ; after 
 all my pains, after I had thatched my house, 
 the water came in, the first time there was a 
 hard shower of rain." 
 
 " Yes ; because you put the bundles of 
 straw the wrong way. You see the thatcher 
 does not lay handfuls of straw in steps, one 
 above the other, as you did ; but he begins 
 at the eaves of the roof, near the wall, just at 
 one end of the house, and he lays several 
 bundles one beside the other." 
 
 " I understand you," said Frank. " I put 
 them one above the other, like the steps of 
 the ladder ; he puts them beside each other, 
 like the sides of the ladder." 
 
 "He fastens them down with bent twigs, 
 which he calls scollops," said Frank's father. 
 
 " Or else, look, here is another way 
 
 he fastens the straw down with a rope made 
 of straw, with which he actually sews the 
 thatch down to the roof, with this long iron 
 rod, which, you see, he uses like a needle." 
 
 " But, papa, you said that he begins at
 
 FRANK. 201 
 
 the eaves of the house. What is the 
 eaves ? " 
 
 '' The eaves are that part of a roof that is 
 nearest the wall. They are the lowest part 
 of the roof, and the thatch hangs over the 
 wall, to carry off the rain without its touch- 
 ing the wall. Here is a scollop. You see, 
 it is sharpened at both ends, that it may stick 
 in the roof. Observe the thatcher. He is 
 going to put on the second row of thatch 
 above the first." 
 
 " Yes ; I see that the lower part of the 
 bundle, that he is now putting on, is put 
 over the upper part of the bundles below it." 
 
 " Why does he do so ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Think a little, Frank." 
 
 "I do think, papa, but I cannot find 
 
 it out." 
 
 " The rain would fall between the bottom 
 of the row which he is now putting on, and 
 the first row, if the bottom of the second did 
 not lap over the top of the first ; and the rain 
 would run in at the holes made by the scol- 
 lops, if they were not covered with the second 
 row of thatch." 
 
 When Frank had seen and heard all that 
 his father showed and told him about thatch- 
 ing, he went down the ladder as carefully as 
 he had gone up it. As he passed through 
 the farm yard with his father and mother, he 
 stopped to look at some pretty hens and chick-
 
 202 
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 ens, that were picking up oats. Whilst Frank 
 was looking at them, a large turkey cock carne 
 strutting up to him, making a great noise, 
 spreading its black wings, stretching out its 
 blue and red throat, and looking ready to fly 
 at him. Frank started back, and had a great 
 wish to run away ; but his father, putting a 
 stick into his hand, said, 
 
 " Frank, stand steady, my boy ; drive him 
 away with this stick. That's right ; drive 
 him away." 
 
 The turkey cock began to run away, turn- 
 ing back, from time to time, and making a 
 terrible noise ; but Frank pursued him, 
 threatening him with the stick ; and, as fast
 
 FRANK. 203 
 
 as Frank came up to him, the turkey cock 
 gobbled and ran away. 
 
 " Well done, Frank ! you have fairly 
 driven him away," said his father, shaking 
 hands with him. " You see you can conquer 
 him, and that he has not hurt you ; now the 
 next time a turkey cock attacks you, if you 
 have a stick in your hand, you need not be 
 afraid." 
 
 " My dear Frank," said his mother, " I am 
 glad to see you are become so much stouter 
 than you were. When you were a very 
 little boy, and not nearly so strong as you 
 are now, I remember we had a turkey cock 
 in the yard which one day frightened you ; 
 and your father ordered that it should be 
 sent away, that it might not frighten you 
 again ; for you were not then able to defend 
 yourself." 
 
 " But I am now older, and am able to de- 
 fend myself," cried Frank ; " and willing too, 
 mamma." 
 
 Frank marched on, in triumph, before his 
 mother; and passed by the door of the 
 chicken yard, looking proudly at the turkey 
 cock, who dared not come out. Frank 
 amused himself, during a great part of the 
 way home, in imitating the strut and noise 
 of this animal ; and he frequently turned to 
 his mother, asking her if this was not very 
 liko ; and this still more like ; and begging 
 her to shut her eyes and listen, and tell
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 whether she could know his gobble from that 
 of the real turkey cock. 
 
 Frank was tired, at last, of doing this ; 
 and his mother was tired of listening to 
 him. 
 
 " Now, mamma, I have done being a 
 turkey cock." 
 
 " Very well, my dear, I am glad of it. 
 Let this woman, who seems to be in a hurry, 
 pass by you, Frank," said his mother. 
 
 Frank looked behind him, and he saw a 
 woman, with a milk-pail on her head, and 
 another under her arm. He made way for 
 her, and when she had passed, he said, 
 
 " Mamma, that is the very same woman 
 who was milking the cow in the farm yard, 
 and who said to me. ' Master ! master ! don't 
 go up the ladder, or you will break your 
 pretty little legs.' Mamma, was not she fool- 
 ish, to be so much frightened? I wonder 
 how any body can be afraid to go up a 
 ladder. What a coward she must be, poor 
 woman ! " 
 
 As Frank was saying this, they came to 
 the narrow bridge ; and, to Frank's surprise, 
 he saw this woman run, without any appear- 
 ance of fear, across the plank. 
 
 " With one pail on her head, and the other 
 pail under her arm, too ! " cried Frank, stop- 
 ping short, and looking at her with astonish- 
 ment. " Mamma, can that be the same 
 
 woman ? Then she cannot be a coward '
 
 FRANK. 205 
 
 Not a coward about going over narrow 
 bridges ; but she is a coward about going up a 
 ladder, mamma." 
 
 " She is accustomed to go over this bridge, 
 and she finds that she can do so without 
 being hurt ; and yon, Prank, have been ac- 
 customed to go up a ladder without being 
 hurt." 
 
 "Yes, the ladder in papa's study I go up 
 and down very often, every day. The first 
 time I went up it, I was a little afraid ; and I 
 remember clinging fast, and going very slow- 
 ly. I see, mamma, that people learn riot to be 
 afraid of what they are accustomed to ; and I 
 believe people can teach themselves not to 
 be afraid." 
 
 As Frank finished speaking, he walked 
 boldly over that bridge on which, but a short 
 time before, he had scarcely dared to put his 
 foot that bridge which he had thought it 
 impossible to cross. 
 
 Frank's father was very careful always to 
 keep his promises. He remembered that he 
 had promised Frank, that, whenever the 
 brewer came, he would let Frank see how 
 beer was brewed. The brewer was now 
 going to brew, and Frank's father called 
 Frank, and took him into the brewhouse. 
 
 " What a very large vessel that is, papa ! "
 
 206 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 said Frank, pointing to a vessel which he 
 saw in the brewhouse. 
 
 " It is large, compared with that which 
 you have seen the cook use for boiling meat ; 
 but it is small, compared with the brewing 
 pan, or boiler, used in a public brewery, where 
 a great quantity of beer is brewed for num- 
 bers of people. We brew only the quantity 
 that we want to drink ourselves." 
 
 " What is in the boiler, papa? " 
 
 " Water. Look at this large wooden ves- 
 sel ; this is called a vat. Into this the malt 
 is put, and the water, that is boiled in the 
 boiler, is poured into the vat, and mixed with 
 the malt ; and, after some other manage- 
 ment, it becomes a liquor called wort. This 
 is all you can see to-day." 
 
 The next day, his father called Frank 
 again, and took him into the brewhouse, and 
 showed him the wort, and bade him taste it ; 
 he tasted it, and found it sweet ; but it had 
 not the taste of beer, though it had some- 
 thing of the color of muddy beer. His fa- 
 ther told him that hops must be mixed with 
 the wort, before it could taste like beer. He 
 showed Frank hops, and Frank tasted the 
 hops, and found that they had a bitter taste. 
 
 " And is this all that is done to make beer, 
 papa ? " 
 
 " Not all ; the wort, after the hops have 
 been boiled in it, must be set to work, or/er-
 
 FRANK. 207 
 
 merit ; and after it has fermented for some 
 time, it becomes beer." 
 
 " What is, to ferment ? " said Frank. 
 
 " I cannot explain it to you," answered 
 his father. " But you shall see this wort 
 when it is fermenting." 
 
 Then Frank's father desired the brewer 
 would send and let him know, as soon as the 
 beer should begin to ferment. The brewer 
 did so some time afterward ; and Frank went 
 to look at it. It was not now in the brew- 
 house. 
 
 " You see, Frank," said his father, " that 
 the liquor in these vessels is not like what 
 you saw in the brewhouse. It is, however, 
 the same liquor ; but it is now in a state of 
 fermentation." 
 
 " It looks, indeed, quite different," said 
 Frank ; " that liquor was of a dull brown 
 color, and quite smooth on the surface ; this 
 is all frothy, and of a muddy yellow and 
 white color. It is full of bubbles ; some 
 rising from below the surface, and others 
 bursting." 
 
 " That froth is called yeast, or barm ; and 
 it is by means of this yeast, or barm, that 
 bread is made spongy and light. Bread made 
 without barm is heavy, like unbaked paste." 
 
 " Papa, how is the beer made to work, or 
 ferment, as it is called ? " 
 
 "Some yeast, that was got from other 
 beer, that was fermenting, was put into this
 
 208 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 beer , and that set it a-working, as it is 
 called." 
 
 " How does it set it a-working, papa ? " 
 
 " I do not know," answered his father. 
 
 " How did they get the yeast for the first 
 beer that was made to ferment ? " 
 
 " I do not know," answered his father. 
 
 " Why, papa, I thought you knew every 
 thing." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear, I know very little ; and 
 I never pretend to know more than I do. 
 The older people grow, and the wiser they 
 become, the more they feel that they are 
 ignorant of a number of things. Then they 
 become the more desirous to learn ; and, the 
 more they learn, the more pleasure they feel 
 in acquiring fresh knowledge." 
 
 After he had seen and heard all that his 
 father could show or tell him about the fer- 
 mentation of beer, Prank went to read to his 
 mother, as he usually did, at this hour, every 
 morning. 
 
 " You have just been seeing how beer is 
 made, Frank," said she ; "now, should you 
 like to know how cider is made ? " 
 
 " Very much, mamma." 
 
 " Here is a book, in which you can find an 
 account of it." 
 
 She put into his hand the first volume of 
 Sandford and Merton, open at the place
 
 FRANK. 209 
 
 which gives an account of Harry and Tom- 
 my's visit to the farm house, where they 
 saw a room full of apples, and where the 
 farmer's wife described the manner in which 
 she made cider of apple-juice. 
 
 Frank read all this to his mother, and it 
 entertained him so much, that when he had 
 finished it, he asked his mother to let him 
 read some more of that book. 
 
 His mother said that she was afraid he 
 was not yet able to understand all of it ; and 
 that she advised him to keep the pleasure of 
 reading it, till he should be able quite to 
 understand it. 
 
 " O mamma ! here is the story of two dogs, 
 Jowler and Keeper. Mamma ! just let me 
 look at that, and a story of the good-natured 
 little boy and the ill-natured boy. I am sure 
 I can understand that, mamma ; arid the 
 story of the gentleman and the basket-maker, 
 and Androcles and the lion. I will begin at 
 the beginning, mamma, if you please ; and, 
 if I find that I do not understand it, I will 
 put it up again in your book-case, and keep 
 the pleasure, as you say, till I am able quite 
 to understand it." 
 
 Upon this condition, Frank's mother gave 
 him leave to read Sandford and Merton. He 
 sat down immediately on the carpet, and he 
 read eagerly for some time, till he came to a 
 long dialogue, and then he yawned. His 
 mother sent him out to work in his garden. 
 18
 
 210 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 She would not allow him to read much at a 
 time, because she wished to prevent him from 
 being tired of reading. He had the pleasure 
 of reading a little of Sandford and Merton 
 every day. He found that he understood a 
 great deal of it ; and his mother told him, he 
 might miss some parts. " You will read that 
 book over again, I am sure, some time hence ; 
 and then you will be able to understand it 
 all ; and then you may read the parts which 
 you now miss." 
 
 Frank was particularly delighted with the 
 account of the house which Harry and Tom- 
 my built. And as soon as Frank got over 
 the difficulty of the hard name, Spitzbergen, 
 he liked the account of " the extraordinary 
 adventures of the four Russian sailors, who 
 were cast away on the desert island of East 
 Spitzbergen." 
 
 " Mamma, I like this, because it is true," 
 said Frank. " Mamma, I like books that 
 tell me true things, and that teach me some- 
 thing." 
 
 One morning, when Frank was going to 
 put on his shoes, he found that there was a 
 hole in the side of one of them ; so he put on 
 another pair, and he ran with the shoe that 
 had the hole in it to his mother, and asked 
 her to have it mended for him. She said 
 that she would send it to the shoemaker's.
 
 FRANK. 211 
 
 " Mamma," continued Frank, " I should 
 ike to go to the shoemaker's ; I should like 
 to see how he mends my shoe, and how he 
 makes new shoes. I understand something 
 about it, from having seen that print of the 
 shoemaker in the Book of Trades, and from 
 having read the description ; but I think I 
 should understand it much better if I was to 
 see a real shoemaker at work." 
 
 " I think you would, my dear; and when I 
 have leisure, I will take you to see a shoe- 
 maker at work." 
 
 " Thank you, good mamma ! And 1 
 should like to see every thing done that is 
 shown in the prints of that book," continued 
 Frank. He ran for the book, and, turning 
 over the leaves, " I should like, mamma, to see 
 the trunkmaker, the wheelwright, the turn- 
 er, the ropemaker, the papermaker, the book- 
 binder, the brazier, the buttonmaker, the 
 saddler, the glassblower, and O mamma ! 
 the printer, and " 
 
 " Stop, stop, my dear Frank ! I cannot 
 show you all these ; but, if you are not 
 troublesome, I will show you any, which 
 you can understand, whenever I have an 
 opportunity, and when I have time. You 
 know that I have a great many things to do, 
 and cannot always attend to you, my little 
 Frank." 
 
 " I know that, mamma. But you have
 
 212 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 time, have not you, to take me to the shoe- 
 maker's to-day?" 
 
 " Not to-day, my dear." 
 
 " But, mamma, will you tell me how paper 
 is made ? " 
 
 " Not now, my dear." 
 
 " Well, mamma, I will tell you how I in- 
 tend to manage about my arbor." 
 
 " Not at present, my dear. Do not talk to 
 me any more now; I am going to write a 
 letter." 
 
 Frank went away, and employed himself, 
 that he might not be troublesome, and that 
 he might make himself happy. 
 
 The next day, his mother took him to 
 the shoemaker's: he saw him at work he 
 saw the awl, with which the shoemaker 
 makes holes in the sole of the shoe and in 
 the leather, through which holes he puts the 
 waxed thread, with which he sews them to- 
 gether ; he saw that, instead of using nee- 
 dles, the shoemaker used hogs' bristles, 
 which he fastened to the waxed thread with 
 which he worked ; so that the bristles served 
 him as needles. He put the two ends of the 
 thread in at opposite sides of the holes, and 
 then drew the thread tight, by pulling 
 each end at one and the same time ; and, in 
 doing this, he pushed out his elbows, and 
 made an odd, jerking motion, which diverted 
 Frank very much.
 
 FRANK. 213 
 
 " Now I know the reason," said Frank, 
 v< why, in the song which papa sings about 
 the cobbler, it says, that he wanted elbow 
 room 
 
 ' There was a cobbler, who lived in the coomb, 
 And all that he wanted was elbow room.' " 
 
 Frank saw, in the shoemaker's shop, large 
 pieces of leather of different colors black, 
 white, red, blue, green, and purple. He 
 asked leave to look at these ; and one of the 
 men in the shop, who was not busy, took out 
 of a drawer some skins, as he called them, 
 and spread them on the counter before 
 Frank, who touched, and smelled, and looked 
 at them, for some minutes, and then said, 
 
 " I know that leather is the skin of ani- 
 mals of horses, and dogs, and calves, and 
 of some kind of goats, and of of I forget 
 the name seals." 
 
 " Why, master ! " said the shoemaker, 
 looking up from his work, "many a little 
 master, of your age, for whom I make shoes, 
 does not know so much; you are a very 
 clever little gentleman." 
 
 Frank colored, and was ashamed; for he 
 recollected the flattering lady, and he thought 
 the shoemaker was flattering and laughing at 
 him. He turned away, and said to the man 
 who had showed him the skins, 
 
 " Tell me, will you, how the skins of 
 horses, and dogs, and goats, are made to look 
 like this leather which I see before me ? I
 
 214 EARLY LESSOiNS. 
 
 know, pretty well, how the hair of the 
 .horses, and dogs, and calves, is got off, be- 
 cause I read an account of that in rny Book 
 of Trades. I know the currier, with a long 
 knife, with two handles, scrapes it off. But 
 I don't know, and I wish you would tell me, 
 how you turn the skin into leather, and how 
 you give it such beautiful colors." 
 
 "Master, I cannot tell you that. It is not 
 our trade ; that is the business of the tanner 
 and the leather-dresser. I buy the leather 
 from them just as you see it. Please to sit 
 down, master, that I may measure you for a 
 pair of shoes." 
 
 Frank, finding that the shoemaker's man 
 could not tell him any thing about tanning 
 or dyeing, contented himself with observing 
 the manner in which this man took measure 
 of his foot. Frank looked at the stick, or 
 ruler, which the shoemaker used. It was 
 made to fold up and open, something like a 
 carpenter's common ruler ; but there was 
 hinged, at one end of it, a bit of brass about 
 two inches long ; and this was hinged so, 
 that it could be made to stand up, or shut 
 down, as you please. This piece of brass the 
 shoemaker turned up, and put behind Frank's 
 heel, when he began to measure his foot, and 
 he laid the ruler under the sole of Frank's 
 foot. There was another piece of brass 
 hinged in the same manner, which could be 
 slid backwards and forwards upon the ruler ;
 
 FRANK. 215 
 
 the shoemaker pushed this up to the end of 
 Frank's foot, and then looked at divisions 
 which were marked upon the ruler ; and he 
 saw the distance between the brass at the 
 heel and the brass at the toe ; and he knew 
 what size Frank's shoe had ought to be, as to 
 length. The breadth he measured by span- 
 ning- the foot ; that is, by putting his fingers 
 round it in different places. 
 
 When the shoemaker had finished taking 
 measure, he shut up his measuring-stick. 
 Frank asked leave to look at it once more, 
 because he had not. observed exactly how it 
 was fastened when shut. The shoemaker put 
 it again into his hands, and he saw how one 
 part of the brass notched into the other, so as 
 to fasten both the parts of the ruler together, 
 when shut. 
 
 The shoemaker then showed Frank some 
 other things, which he wished to see, in his 
 shop. He showed him a bootjack, for draw- 
 ing boots off, and a wooden leg, which is put 
 into boots, to stretch them ; and he showed 
 him the lasts, or moulds, on which shoes are 
 made. 
 
 Wherever Frank went, people were gener- 
 ally ready to answer his questions, and to 
 show him what he wanted to see, because he 
 took care not to be troublesome, and he did 
 not ask foolish questions. He sometimes 
 found, however, that people could not spare 
 time to show him things ; and he often
 
 216 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 found that he could not understand their 
 manner of explaining. 
 
 Some days after Frank had been at the 
 shoemaker's, as he was walking out in the 
 evening, with his father and mother, he heard 
 a dog barking at a distance. 
 
 " How far off, mamm \, do you think that 
 dog is ? " said Frank. 
 
 " About a quarter of a mile, I should guess. 
 I fancy it is White the tanner's dog." 
 
 " The tanner ! Mamma, I wish he had 
 not that barking dog." 
 
 " That barking dog is very useful to the 
 tanner, and he will not do you any harm. 
 That dog is always chained up in the day- 
 time ; he is let loose only at night, when he 
 guards his master's property, and prevents 
 any one from stealing the leather which the 
 tanner leaves in his tan-pits." 
 
 " Then, mamma, if the dog is chained up, 
 and cannot do me any harm, I wish you 
 would be so good as to take me to see the 
 tanner and the tan-pits : you know, the shoe- 
 maker told me that the tanner tans leather. 
 Mamma, will you go ? Papa, will you go to 
 the tanner's ? " 
 
 " Yes, Frank, we will go with you," said 
 his father. " I am glad to see that you are 
 so desirous to acquire knowledge." 
 
 They walked across two or three fields, 
 towards the tanner's house ; and when they 
 came near it, the barking of the dog was
 
 FRANK. 217 
 
 heard very loud. But at the same time that 
 Frank heard his loud barking, he also heard 
 the rattling of the dog's chain; and he knew, 
 therefore, that he was chained up, and could 
 not do him any mischief. His father told 
 Frank to take care, as he passed by this fierce 
 dog, not to go within his reach not to go 
 within the length of his chain. Frank took 
 care, and walked at a prudent distance. The 
 tanner came out, and silenced his dog, and 
 then Frank could hear and attend to what 
 was said. 
 
 But, though he attended, he did not under- 
 stand all that the tanner said ; for the man 
 spoke in a tone different from what Frank 
 had been accustomed to hear. 
 
 " Here bees my tan-pits, master, if that 
 bees what you're axing for. And all that is, 
 as I knows about it, you see, master, is this, 
 that I puts the skins into one of these here 
 pits, first-and-foremost, to cleanse it of the 
 hair, like ; and then I stretches it upon a 
 horse, you see, and I scrapes off the hair." 
 
 " And does the horse stand still," said 
 Frank, " while you are doing that ? " 
 
 " O, bless you, master, it's a wooden horse 
 I be thinking of! " 
 
 " O, I understand ! But what is in this 
 pit ? " 
 
 " First-and-foremost, I puts it into this pit," 
 said the tanner. 
 
 " First, he puts it into this pit," said 
 19
 
 2 IS EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Frank's father, observing that Frank did no 
 know what the man meant by first-and-fore- 
 most, which he pronounced very quickly, and 
 like one word. 
 
 " Master, there is what we call lime water; 
 and then I puts it into stronger lime water, 
 to soak again ; and then I takes it out, and 
 hangs it to dry, and then again soaks it ; and 
 so on, till it is fit for the tan-pit, here," said 
 the tanner, pointing to a pit. 
 
 " And what is in this pit ? " said Frank. 
 
 "The bark, master nothing in life, mas- 
 ter, but the bark and water." 
 
 " The bark! " said Frank ; " what do you 
 mean by the bark ? " 
 
 " I means the bark, that is ground and 
 thrown into this here pit with water." 
 
 Frank looked to his father for explanation ; 
 and his father told him, that the bark, of 
 which the tanner spoke, was the bark of 
 oak-trees. 
 
 " This bark," continued his father, " con- 
 tains something called tannin, which, after a 
 length of time, gets into the pores, or open- 
 ings, in the leather, and makes it hard. And 
 after that, when the leather is dry, it does 
 not let water easily pass through it ; and then 
 it is useful for making shoes and boots, and 
 harness, and for covering trunks, and various 
 other purposes." 
 
 " But what is that something called tannin^ 
 papa ? " said Frank.
 
 FRANK. 219 
 
 " I do not know," said his father. " But I 
 know that it has a particular taste, which is 
 called astringent ; and that it makes leather 
 hard, and fit to keep out water. Dip your 
 finger into that pit, where you see bark 
 and water, and taste the liquor, and then 
 you will know what is meant by an astrin- 
 gent taste." 
 
 Frank dipped his finger into the tan-pit, 
 and tasted the bark and water ; and he under- 
 stood what was meant by an astringent taste. 
 
 " Ts this all that you can tell me, papa ? " 
 
 " All that I can tell you at present, my 
 dear. When you are able to understand it, 
 you can read more on this subject in Con- 
 versations on Chemistry." 
 
 " But I do not see here any of the red or 
 green colored, smooth, shining leathers, which 
 1 saw at the shoemaker's." 
 
 " No ; they are not made at a common 
 tanner's. They are colored, and made smooth 
 and shining, as you saw them, at the leather- 
 dresser's." 
 
 Frank's next wish was, to go to a leather- 
 dresser, and to learn how the leather was 
 made of these beautiful colors. The tanner 
 said, that he always sent his leather, as soon 
 as it was tanned, to a leather-dresser who 
 lived in a town at twenty miles' distance 
 from him, and from the place where Frank's 
 father and mother lived. 
 
 They could not take him to the leather-
 
 220 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 dresser's conveniently. In a book, a sort of 
 dictionary, which his father lent to him, 
 Frank afterwards looked for an account of 
 the manner in which leather is dyed. He 
 found that he could not understand it ; so he 
 turned his attention to something else, which 
 he could understand. 
 
 The next day, he passed by a nailer's 
 forge, and he asked his father to take him in, 
 and to let him see how nails were made. In 
 the course of a few weeks afterwards, he saw 
 several other things which entertained him. 
 
 Last year, when he had seen the sheep- 
 shearing, and had been told, that the wool 
 cut from the back of the sheep could be made 
 into cloth for a coat, such as that which he 
 wore, he had been curious to know how this 
 could be done. His mother showed him 
 how the wool is spun into woollen yarn ; and 
 this year, when he was able to understand it, 
 his father showed him a loom, and explained 
 to him the parts of the machine ; and showed 
 him how woollen yarn is woven into cloth, 
 by means of a loom. 
 
 This summer, Frank saw several other 
 things, about which he had been curious. 
 His father showed him how books are print- 
 ed, in a printing-press. And, some time 
 afterwards, he took Frank to a glass-house, 
 and let him see men making several things
 
 FRANK. 221 
 
 bottles, decanters, tumblers : he saw them 
 pull the glass, when it was hot and soft, into 
 various shapes ; and blow air into it, and 
 blow it out into any forms they pleased. This 
 entertained him exceedingly. 
 
 But, whenever Frank saw any thing that 
 entertained him much, he always wished 
 that he had his brother Edward, or his cousin 
 William, or his cousin Frederick or Charles 
 to tell it to. They were gone home, and his 
 brother was gone to school ; and Frank 
 wished that he had some companion, of nearly 
 his own age, to talk to and to play with. 
 
 Frank had a little cousin Mary ; and about 
 this time little Mary, who was between five 
 and six years old, was brought to his moth- 
 er's house. Mary was dressed all in black 
 when Frank first saw her ; and she looked 
 very melancholy. Frank went to his father, 
 who was standing in another part of the 
 room ; and he whispered to his father, and 
 asked why Mary was dressed in black, and 
 why she looked so melancholy. His father 
 answered, 
 
 " Because her mother is dead.' 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Frank. " If my moth- 
 er was dead, how sorry I should be ! Poor 
 little Mary ! what will she do without a 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Mary is to live with us," said his father ; 
 "your mother and I will take care of her,
 
 222 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 and teach her, as well as we can ; and you 
 will be kind to her, will you not, Frank ? " 
 
 " That I will, papa," said Frank. 
 
 He ran directly for those of his playthings 
 which he thought would please her the most. 
 And he spread them before her. She looked 
 at them, and smiled a little ; but she soon put 
 them down again, and did not seem to be 
 amused by them. Frank took her to his 
 garden, and gathered for her those of his 
 flowers which he liked the best ; but she did 
 not seem to like them nearly as much as he 
 did, or as much as he had expected she 
 would. She said, 
 
 " Thank you ; but mamma had nicer flow- 
 ers than these at home I wish I was with 
 mamma I wish mamma could come back 
 again to me." 
 
 Frank knew that her mamma could not 
 come back again to her ; but he did not say 
 so, then, to Mary. He took her to look at 
 the house which he was building ; and he 
 showed her the sticks which his papa had 
 given him for the roof, and he explained to 
 her how he intended to roof it, and how he 
 intended, afterwards, to thatch it ; he said, 
 that they two could work at it together, and 
 he asked her if she should like it. 
 
 She said, she believed that she should like 
 it " by and by, but not then." 
 
 He asked her, " what she meant by by 
 and by."
 
 FRANK. 
 
 She said, " To-morrow, or some other day, 
 out not to-day." 
 
 To-morrow came ; and little Mary, after 
 she had slept all night, and after she had 
 eaten some breakfast, and after she had be- 
 come better acquainted with all the people in 
 the house, who were strangers to her, began 
 to look more cheerful ; and, by degrees, she 
 talked a little more ; and, presently, she began 
 to run about, and to play with Frank. He 
 played with her at whatever she liked best ; 
 he was her horse, for that was what she 
 asked him to be ; and he put a bridle of pack- 
 thread round his body, and let her drive him ; 
 and he lent her his best whip, with which he 
 let her whip him on as much as she pleased. 
 
 After Mary had been at Frank's home for a 
 few days, she began to call it her home ; and 
 she called his mother "mamma," and she 
 seemed happy again. But Frank could not 
 at all times play with her ; he had several 
 other things to do ; and, when he did play 
 with her, he did not choose always to play at 
 the play which she liked best. Sometimes, at 
 night, she wanted him to make a cat's cradle, 
 or a paper boat, for her, when Frank wished 
 to read an entertaining book ; and sometimes 
 he wanted to work in his garden, or to go on 
 roofing his house, when she wished him to 
 be her horse, or to roll her in the wheelbar- 
 row. Upon these occasions, Mary was some-
 
 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 times a little cross ; and Frank was some- 
 times a little impatient. 
 
 Frank had now finished roofing his house, 
 and he was beginning to thatch it in the 
 manner he saw the thatcher ; he wanted 
 Mary to help him ; he told her she must wait 
 upon him, as he had seen the laborer wait 
 upon the thatcher who thatched the barn. 
 He said she should be his straw man ; and 
 he showed her how to carry the straw ; and 
 he charged her always to be ready when he 
 cried out, 
 
 " More straw ! more, man ! more ! " 
 
 For a little while, Mary served him well, 
 and had the straw ready when he called, 
 " More straw ! " But she was soon tired, 
 and Frank called, 
 
 " More straw ! more, man ! more ! " 
 several times before she was ready. Frank 
 grew angry, and said she was slow, and awk- 
 ward, and lazy ; and she said, she was hot 
 and tired, and that she would not be his 
 straw man any longer. Frank tried to con- 
 vince her that she was wrong ; and, to prove 
 it to her, repeated what his father had told 
 him about the division of labor. 
 
 " You see," said he, " I am forced to come 
 down the ladder every time I want straw ; 
 I lose my time, and I cannot get on nearly so 
 quickly, as if you carried it to me. When 1 
 go on doing one thing, and you doing anoth- 
 er, to be ready for me, you cannot think how
 
 FRANK. 225 
 
 well and quickly we get on : that is dividing 
 the labor the division of labor you un- 
 derstand ? " 
 
 Mary did not understand. She said, " I 
 do not know any thing about that ; but I 
 don't like to be your straw man any longer, 
 arid I will not." 
 
 Frank pushed her away, telling her that 
 she might go wherever she pleased. She 
 stood still, and began to cry. Then Frank 
 was sorry he had been so angry with her ; 
 and she dried up her tears when he told her 
 so, and she said, she would be his straw man 
 again, if he would not call, "More straw! 
 more, man ! " so very fast ; and if he would 
 not call her stupid or lazy. 
 
 To this Frank agreed ; and they went on 
 again for some time, he thatching, and she 
 carrying straw, and placing little bundles 
 ready for him ; and they were very happy ; 
 he working quickly, and she helping him 
 nicely. 
 
 " How much happier it is not to quarrel ! " 
 said little Mary. " But now I am really 
 quite tired will you let me rest? " 
 
 " Yes, and welcome ! " said Frank ; " though 
 I am not in the least tired." 
 
 He came down the ladder, and he went 
 and looked for some wood strawberries, and 
 brought them to her, and they ato them to- 
 gether very happily.
 
 226 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " I cut and you choose that is fair, ia 
 not it, Mary ? " said Frank. 
 
 Whenever any pie or pudding, fruit, cake, 
 or any thing which they both liked to eat, was 
 given to them, Frank was usually desired to 
 divide it ; and this he did with the most accu- 
 rate justice. When he had divided it as well 
 as he could, he always desired Mary to choose 
 whichever piece she liked for herself; so that, 
 if there was any advantage, she might have 
 it. This was being just ; but, besides being 
 just, Frank was generous. Every thing that 
 was given to him, to share with his little 
 cousin, he always gave her a part, and often 
 a larger or a better part than that which he 
 kept for himself. Nobody knew this but 
 Mary and himself ; for he did not want to be 
 praised for it ; the pleasure he felt in doing it, 
 and the pleasure he saw that he gave her, 
 was quite enough. 
 
 But, though Frank was so good-natured 
 to his little cousin, yet he had faults. He 
 was passionate ; and, sometimes, when he 
 was in a passion, he did what he was after- 
 wards very sorry for. Till little Mary came 
 to his mother's, he had not been used to live 
 with any one who was weaker and younger 
 than himself. 
 
 When he found he was the strongest, he 
 sometimes, in playing with little Mary, took 
 advantage of his strength, to make her do
 
 FRANK. 227 
 
 what he commanded her ; and, when he was 
 impatient to get any thing from her, he now 
 and then snatched or forced it rudely from 
 her hand. One day, she had a new ball, 
 which she held between both her hands, and 
 she would not let Frank look at it ; she was 
 half in play, and at first Frank was playing 
 with her also ; but when she persisted in re- 
 fusing to let him see it, he grew angry, and 
 squeezed her hands, and twisted her wrist 
 with violence, to make her open her hands. 
 She, being in great pain, cried out so loudly 
 that Frank's father, who was in the room 
 over that in which they were, came down, to 
 inquire what was the matter. Mary stopped 
 crying the moment he appeared ; Frank 
 looked ashamed, but he went forward to his 
 father directly, and said, 
 
 " It was I who hurt her, papa I squeezed 
 her hands to make her give me this ball." 
 
 "You have hurt her, indeed!" said his 
 father, looking at little Mary's wrist, which 
 was very red, and was beginning to swell. 
 " O Frank ! " continued his father, " I 
 thought you would use your strength to 
 help, and not to hurt, those who are weaker 
 than yourself." 
 
 " So I do, always, papa ; except she puts 
 me in a passion." 
 
 <4 But the ball was my own ball," said 
 Mary ; " and you had no right to take it 
 from me."
 
 228 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " I did not want to take it from you, Mary ; 
 I only wanted to look at it ; and you began 
 first to be cross you were very cross." 
 
 " No, Prank, you were the crassest." 
 
 " You are both cross now, I think," said 
 Frank's father ; " and, since you cannot 
 agree when you are together, you must be 
 separated." 
 
 Then he sent them into different rooms, 
 and they were not allowed to play together 
 during the remainder of that day. 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, Frank's 
 father asked them whether they had been as 
 happy yesterday as they usually had been; 
 and they both answered, "No." Then he 
 asked, 
 
 " Do you like better to be together or to be 
 separate ? " 
 
 " We like a great deal better to be togeth- 
 er," said Frank and Mary. 
 
 " Then, my dear children, take care and 
 do not quarrel," said Frank's father; "for, 
 whenever you quarrel, without asking any 
 questions about who was cross, or Grosser, or 
 Grossest, or who began first, I shall end your 
 dispute at once by separating you. You, 
 Frank, understand the nature and use of 
 punishment ; you know " 
 
 " Yes, papa, I know," interrupted Frank, 
 " that it is it is pain. Papa, will you ex- 
 plain it ? for, though I know it, I cannot say 
 it in good words."
 
 FRANK. 229 
 
 " Try to explain it in any words." 
 
 " When you punish me, papa, you give 
 me pain, or you take something from me 
 which I like to have, or you hinder me from 
 having something that I like, or from doing 
 something that I like to do " 
 
 "Well, go on; when, arid for what reason, 
 do I give you pain, or prevent you from hav- 
 ing pleasure ? " 
 
 " When I have done something wrong, 
 and because I have done something wrong." 
 
 " And do I give you this pain of punish- 
 ment because I like to give you pain, or for 
 what purpose ? " 
 
 "Not because you like to give me pain, I 
 am sure, papa ; but to cure me of my faults 
 to hinder me from doing wrong again." 
 
 " And how will punishment cure you of 
 your faults, or prevent you from doing wrong 
 again ? " 
 
 " You know, papa, I should be afraid to 
 have the same punishment again, if I were to 
 do the same wrong thing ; and the pain, and 
 the shame, of the punishment, make me re- 
 member. I remember them a great while ; 
 and the punishment comes into my head 
 that is. I think of it again whenever I think 
 of the wrong thing for which I was pun- 
 ished ; and, if I was tempted to do the same 
 thing again, just at the very time I should 
 recollect the punishment, and I should not 
 do it. I believe "
 
 230 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 " Then, according to your description of it. 
 just punishment is pain given to a person, 
 who has done what is wrong, to prevent that 
 person from doing wrong again." 
 
 " Yes, papa; that is what I wanted to say." 
 
 " And is there no other use in punishments, 
 do you think, Frank ? " 
 
 " O yes, papa ! to prevent other people 
 from doing wrong ; because they see the 
 person, who has done wrong, is punished ; 
 and, if they are sure that they shall have 
 the same punishment if they do the same 
 thing, they take care not to do it. I heard 
 John, the gardener's son, saying yesterday 
 to his brother, that the boy, who robbed 
 his garden last week, was taken and had been 
 whipped ; and that this would be a fine ex- 
 ample for all the children in the village, and 
 would hinder them from doing the same 
 thing again." 
 
 " Then, just punishment is pain given, to 
 those who do wrong, to prevent them from 
 doing that wrong again ; and to prevent others 
 from doing wrong." 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Frank ; " but, papa, 
 why do you tell me all this ? why do you ask 
 me these things ? " 
 
 " Because, my dear son, now that you are 
 become a reasonable creature, and that you 
 can understand me, I wish, as much as pos- 
 sible, to explain to you the reasons for all I 
 do in educating you. Brutes, who have no
 
 FRANK. 23 1 
 
 sense, are governed by blows ; but human 
 creatures, who can think and reason, can be 
 governed, and can govern themselves, by 
 considering what is right, and what makes 
 them happy. I do not treat you as a brute, 
 but as a reasonable creature ; and, on every 
 occasion, I endeavor to explain to you what 
 is right and wrong, and what is just and 
 unjust." 
 
 "Thank you, papa," said Frank; " I wish 
 to be treated like a reasonable creature. 
 Papa, may I say one thing ? " 
 
 " As many things as you please, my dear." 
 
 " But, papa, this one thing is about you ; 
 and perhaps you will not like it. Papa, I do 
 not think it is just to separate Mary and me, 
 whenever we quarrel, without examining or 
 inquiring which is in the wrong." 
 
 " When people quarrel, they generally are 
 both in the wrong." 
 
 " But not always, papa ; and one is often 
 more in the wrong than the other ; and it is 
 not just that the one, who is least in the 
 wrong, should be punished as much as the 
 person who did the most wrong." 
 
 Here Frank paused, and the tears came 
 into his eyes ; and, after a little struggle 
 with himself, he added, 
 
 " Now it is all over, papa, I must tell 
 you that I was most to blame. I was the 
 most in the wrong, in that quarrel which
 
 232 EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 little Mary and I had yesterday. It was I 
 who hurt her, by squeezing her hand violent- 
 ly, and" she only cried out; and yet she was 
 punished as much as I was." 
 
 " My dear, honest, just, generous boy ! " 
 said his father, putting his hand upon Frank's 
 head, " act always, feel always, as you now 
 do ; and when you have been wrong, always 
 have candor and courage enough to acknowl- 
 edge it." 
 
 Little Mary, who had gone away to her 
 playthings, whilst they had been talking of 
 what she did not understand, left her play- 
 things, and came back, and stood beside 
 Frank, looking up in his face, and listening 
 eagerly when he said that he had been most 
 to blame in their quarrel. And when his 
 father praised him, Mary smiled, and her eyes 
 sparkled with pleasure. After his father had 
 done speaking, she said, 
 
 " Frank is very good, to tell that he was 
 the most wrong ; but I was a little wrong ; I 
 cried more than I should have done, and a 
 great deal louder, because I was angry. " 
 
 " There is a good girl ! " said Frank's 
 father, stroking her head. " Now that is all 
 over, let us think of the future. You say, 
 Frank, that you do not think it just that you 
 should be separated, when you quarrel, be- 
 cause that separation is the same punishment 
 for both, when perhaps one only is to blame,
 
 FRANK. 
 
 23' 
 
 or one much more to blame than the other. 
 Do I understand you ? Do I state clearly 
 what you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa pretty well not quite. I 
 think the separating us is just enough, because, 
 as you say, when we quarrel, we generally 
 are both to blame more or less, and besides, 
 when we are angry, we cannot have any 
 pleasure in being together. So I give up 
 that. But I think that, before you separate 
 us, you or mamma should always inquire, and 
 find out, which of us is most to blame, and 
 exactly how much ; and then the person, 
 who has been the most wrong, will have the 
 most shame ; and that will make the punish- 
 ment just as it should be." 
 
 " Well argued, my boy ! This would be 
 strictly just, as far as you two are concerned ; 
 but you must consider, also, what is just for 
 your mother and for me." 
 
 " What do you mean, papa ? I do not 
 want to punish mamma or you you do not 
 quarrel ; " said Frank, laughing. " I do not 
 wish to separate you, or to punish mamma or 
 you, papa I do not understand you." 
 
 " Listen to me, and perhaps I shall make 
 you understand me. You say you do not 
 want to punish me or your mother ; and yet 
 you would punish us both whenever you 
 quarrelled, if we were obliged to give up our 
 time, and to leave whatever we were doing, 
 20
 
 234 EAKLY LESSONS. 
 
 that was agreeable to us, in order to settle 
 which of you two was most to blame, in a 
 dispute, perhaps, about a straw, or something 
 3f as little value. Now, suppose you two 
 ~vere to quarrel every hour " 
 
 " O sir ! " interrupted little Mary, " quarrel 
 every hour ! O, O, that is quite impossible." 
 
 " But my father only says, suppose. We 
 tan suppose any thing, you know," said 
 Frank. " Well, suppose, papa " 
 
 "And suppose, Frank, that every hour it 
 would require a quarter of an hour of your 
 mother's time or mine to listen to both, and 
 settle which was most to blame " 
 
 " A quarter of an hour! that is a great deal 
 too much time to allow." 
 
 " We have been talking now, Frank, above 
 
 Quarter of an hour, I think." 
 
 Indeed ! I never should have guessed 
 hat ! " 
 
 " Should not you ? When people are 
 much interested about any thing, they talk 
 j>n a great while, without considering how 
 ime passes." 
 
 " That is true. Well, allow a quarter of 
 an hour each quarrel, and one every hour," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " And count twelve hours as a day. Then 
 welve quarters of an hour, Mary, how many 
 whole hours will that make ? " 
 
 Mary answered, after thinking a little 
 while, " I don't know."
 
 FRANK. 235 
 
 Frank answered, " Three hours." 
 
 " So, three whole hours, Frank, your moth- 
 er or I must, according to your plan, give up, 
 every day, to settling your quarrels." 
 
 " That would be too much, really ! " said 
 Frank. " But this is only arguing on your 
 suppose, papa." 
 
 " Well, state that you quarrel only once a 
 day ; tell me why your mother or I should be 
 punished by taking up our time disagreeably 
 in settling your little disputes, provided any 
 other manner of settling them would succeed 
 as well. Be just to us, Frank, as well as to 
 yourself and to Mary." 
 
 " I will, papa I will be just to you. I 
 acknowledge we should not take up your 
 time disagreeably, in settling our disputes, if 
 they could be settled as well any other way . 
 but all depends upon that if. You will ac- 
 knowledge that, father." 
 
 " I do acknowledge it, son. This question 
 can be decided, then, only by experience 
 by trying whether the fact is so or not. Let 
 us try my way, if you please, for one month ; 
 and, afterwards, if mine does not succeed, I 
 will try yours." 
 
 END.
 
 UCSB LIBRARY
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 604 221 2