75 " 

 
 THE 
 
 AMERICAN MECHANIC 
 
 AND 
 
 WORKING-MAN. 
 
 BY JAMES W. ALEXANDER. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 WILLIAM S. MARTIEN.
 
 ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 
 1847, by WILLIAM S. MARTIEN, in the Clerk's Office 
 of the District Court for the Eastern District of Penn- 
 sylvania.
 
 SRLF 
 URL 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is now some years since these unpretending 
 volumes were first published, under the some- 
 what whimsical name of CHARLES QUILL. 
 The truth is, this was no more than a signa- 
 ture adopted in writing for a newspaper, and 
 the title had become familiar to the class of 
 persons whose benefit was sought. Besides, 
 the author doubted whether the name of a 
 clergyman would add any currency to lucu- 
 brations on such a subject. 
 
 To the great surprise of the writer, the 
 books met with a ready sale, and the earlier 
 one, at least, passed through three editions. 
 It is no more than justice to say, that they 
 owed much of their favour with the public 
 to the valuable journal in which they at first 
 appeared, and to its editor, Mr. William B. 
 Kinney. That they never became part of 
 the current of literature, is not to be wonder- 
 1
 
 2 PREFACE. 
 
 ed at: it is believed that they were not lost 
 upon those for whom they were intended. 
 
 In offering a revised edition, the author 
 begs leave to say once more, that his purpose 
 will be answered, if these little volumes shall 
 be read with pleasure in the shop of the me- 
 chanic, during intervals of labour, or in the 
 evening when work is over. As the title 
 shows, this is an offering to the working-man. 
 The apprentice, the journeyman, and the 
 master-mechanic will here find recreation and 
 perhaps improvement. But it aims not so 
 much at systematic instruction, as to quicken, 
 to cheer, and to amuse. 
 
 It is no part of the plan of the work to 
 bring down every thing to the level of the 
 meanest capacity. Were this attempted, it 
 would be lost upon the stupid and ignorant; 
 while to persons of sense and improvement, all 
 that is said will be clear enough, without any 
 such degradation of the style. Even chil- 
 dren are offended with the extreme of forced 
 simplicity ; especially as some of them know 
 that if they never hear a hard word, they 
 will never get beyond the easy ones. All
 
 PREFACE. 3 
 
 our knowledge is gained by mingling things 
 yet unknown with such as are known al- 
 ready. It is thus we learn both to talk and 
 to read. To attempt nothing but what is 
 known, is to shun the water till one has learn- 
 ed to swim. In this persuasion, the author 
 has not scrupled to introduce some things for 
 the special benefit of more advanced readers ; 
 as, for example, the short essays on the cul- 
 tivation of memory. For the same reason, 
 a pretty free use has been made of the stores 
 of English poetry. The working-man, no 
 less than others, has a right to these treasures 
 of his mother tongue, and may enjoy them 
 with the greater freedom, as they require no 
 previous scientific training to make them in- 
 telligible. 
 
 If, unhappily, the book should fall into the 
 hands of any exceedingly grave critics, of 
 such 'vinegar aspect', as to be scandalized by 
 its occasional playfulness, the author will en- 
 deavour to be more staid in his future la- 
 bours; remembering Bos well's famous an- 
 ecdote. It is related of the great Dr. Clarke, 
 that when in one of his leisure hours he was
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 unbending himself with a few friends in the 
 most playful and frolicsome manner, he ob- 
 served Beau Nash approaching, upon which 
 he suddenly stopped; "My boys (said he) 
 let us be grave ; here comes a fool." 
 
 Every page has been written with a most 
 serious intent, and with a wish to see Amer- 
 ican working-men elevated in their own es- 
 teem, as the surest method towards their ele- 
 vation in the esteem of others. Men who 
 have so large a share in the government of 
 the country, and who, from their facilities of 
 intercourse, act so much in masses, deserve 
 special attention from the philosopher and the 
 statesman. Let the reader of these pages 
 consider himself as in every sentence address- 
 ed by a hearty friend; for they have been 
 thrown before the public with warm wishes 
 in behalf of those whom the author seeks as 
 his readers. They are therefore DEDICATED 
 TO THE MASTER-WORKMEN, JOURNEYMEN, 
 AND APPRENTICES OP AMERICA, by their 
 wellwisher, 
 
 J. W.A.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. The Working-man's Home 9 
 
 II. The Working-man's Dwelling 14 
 
 III. The Working-man's Garden and Grounds. ... 19 
 
 IV. Husband and Wife 27 
 
 V. The Wife at Home 32 
 
 VI. The Working-man's Daughter 38 
 
 VII. The Schoolmaster 45 
 
 VHL The Schoolmaster, continued 50 
 
 DC. Early Reading 55 
 
 X. Reading for Beginners 60 
 
 XL Reading for Entertainment 65 
 
 XII. The Working-man in search of Knowledge. . 71 
 
 Xin. Study by Stealth 78 
 
 XIV. The Art of Drawing valuable to Mechanics. . 85 
 
 XV. The Cultivation of Memory 94 
 
 XVI. The Cultivation of Memory, continued 101 
 
 XVII. The Working-man's Journeys 108 
 
 XVIII. Apprentices 114 
 
 XEX. Trades' Unions 120 
 
 XX. Trades' Unions, continued 124 
 
 XXI. The Working-man's Liberties 130 
 
 7
 
 8 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXII. The Working-man in a strange land. . . . 135 
 
 XXIII. Advantages of American Working-men . 139 
 XXFV. The Village Talker 144 
 
 XXV. The Pleasures of the Table 149 
 
 XXVI. Drinking and Drunkenness 155 
 
 XXVII. The Working-man's Health 161 
 
 XXVni. Baths and Cleanliness 167 
 
 XXEX. Intemperance and Disease. 175 
 
 XXX. Money 183 
 
 XXXI. Risks and Speculations 188 
 
 XXXH. The Working-man in Want 197 
 
 XXXHI. The Village Revisited 202 
 
 XXXIV. The Contented Working-man 209 
 
 XXXV. Who is the Working-man? 215 
 
 XXXVI. Home Pleasures 224 
 
 XXXVII. The Working-man's Evenings at Home. 233 
 
 XXXVIII. The Working-man in the Country 238 
 
 XXXIX. The Working-man's Saturday Evening. 243 
 
 XL. The Unstable Working-man 249 
 
 XLI. The Working-man's good Works 258 
 
 XLH. The Working-man's Rest 264 
 
 X 1 ,111. The Working-man retired from Business 270 
 
 XLIV. The Working-man in old Age 275 
 
 XLV. Conclusion 284
 
 THE 
 
 WORKING-MAN. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HOME. 
 
 " Tell me on what holy ground 
 May domestic peace be found ? 
 Halcyon daughter of the skies, 
 Far on fearful wings she flies 
 From the pomp of sceptred state, 
 From the rebel's noisy hate." 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 THERE is a peculiar zest in the working-man's 
 enjoyment of home. After weariness both of body 
 and mind, he has a refuge at the close of the day 
 
 " Dear tranquil time, when the sweet sense of home 
 Is sweetest."* 
 
 There are languages, it is said, in which there 
 is no such word as Home : in our mother tongue 
 there is none more pregnant. It marks the sacred 
 spot to which the cares and tumult of the world 
 
 * Coleridge. 
 
 9
 
 10 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 do not reach ; and where, except in cases of ex- 
 treme depravity, its vices do not intrude. If there 
 are gentle affections in the heart, they will break 
 forth around the hearthstone ; if there is an hour 
 of tranquillity amidst perturbed life, it will be that 
 which is spent with wife and children ; if there 
 is such a thing as friendship or love, it will be 
 developed among these dearest associates. 
 
 Homeless men are seldom happy. If it was 
 not good for man to be alone, even in Eden, it is 
 bad indeed to be alone in such a fallen world as 
 ours. But I will go farther, and assert the moral 
 influences of domestic institutions. As it regards 
 public offences, the man who has a wife and child- 
 ren has by just so much a greater stake in society. 
 He has much both to gain and to lose. He can- 
 not rise or fall alone. As it regards private virtue, 
 it depends much on the kindly affections, and these 
 are in their very shrine in the family circle. I 
 think I have observed that when a man begins to 
 go astray, he becomes less fond of home. The 
 quiet look of the wife speaks daggers to his guilty 
 conscience. The caresses of children are so many 
 reproaches to the man who knows that he is 
 wasting their very livelihood by his habits of dis- 
 sipation. I think I have observed that the most 
 rude and quarrelsome men are orderly and quiet 
 when they go abroad with their wives and child 
 ren. Such is the safeguard of virtue which is fur 
 nished by the influences of home.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HOME. 11 
 
 I would have the home of the working-man his 
 most delightful resort. To be so, it should be 
 pleasing, even its outside. Why should it not be 
 a well-proportioned cottage, with its windows 
 overhung by sweetbrier and honeysuckle, and its 
 roof shaded by spreading trees ? Why should 
 not the little door-yard be carpeted with grass, 
 and hedged with shrubbery? These are not 
 luxuries of the rich alone. Yet it is too common 
 for people to think that because they are poor 
 they must be slovenly and dirty. A little white- 
 wash, a little paint, a little turfing, and a few days 
 of labour about the vines and flowers, will serve 
 to change the whole appearance of the humblest 
 enclosure. 
 
 But let us enter the working-man's house ; and 
 in order to meet the extremes! objection, I am 
 supposing the case of the poorest. The walls 
 should be white, the floors and wood-work should 
 be scoured, the movables should be in their places, 
 and no unsightly utensil should be more conspi- 
 cuous than necessity requires. These are exter- 
 nals, but they bear directly upon what is more 
 inward and more valuable. Everybody is more 
 cheerful in a neat than in a disorderly room. 
 When work is over, and every thing in its place, 
 the visiter is more welcome, the husband's look 
 is brighter, and an affectionate flow spreads itself 
 through the circle. 
 
 The difference between England and America
 
 12 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 on the one hand, and the southern countries of 
 Europe on the other, is founded in a good mea- 
 sure on the homes of the former, and the absence 
 of them in the latter. The common law has ac- 
 knowledged the principle, that every man's house 
 is his castle. It is true in more senses than one. 
 Home is the citadel of all the virtues of the people. 
 For by home we mean something more than one's 
 house : it is the family that makes the home. It 
 is the peculiar abode and domain of the wife: 
 and this one circumstance marks it out as 
 human, and as Christian. Sacred wedlock is 
 the fountain not only of its pleasures but of its 
 moral excellence. The poorest wretch who has 
 a virtuous, sensible, industrious, and affectionate 
 wife, is a man of wealth. Home is the abode of 
 our children. Here they meet us with their smiles 
 and prattle. He who unfeignedly enjoys this 
 cannot be altogether corrupt ; and the more we 
 can make men snjoy it, the further do we remove 
 them out of harm's way. No men therefore are 
 better members of society, or more apt to become 
 stable and wealthy citizens, than such as are well 
 married and well settled. 
 
 A learned foreigner of Spanish descent, of high 
 distinction in the politics of his own country, was 
 once leaving the doors of a pleasant family, in 
 New England, where he had been spending an 
 evening. He had observed the Sabbath calm of 
 the little circle its sequestered safety and inde-
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HOME. 13 
 
 pendence ; he had marked the freedom of affec- 
 tionate intercourse between parents, and children, 
 and friends, the cordial hospitality, and the refer- 
 ence of every thing abroad to this central spot of 
 home. As he retired from the lovely scene, he 
 exclaimed, with a sort of transport, " Now I have 
 the secret of your national virtue, and intelligence, 
 and order ; it is in these domestic retreats !" 
 
 " Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
 Of Paradise that has survived the fall ! 
 Though few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure, 
 Or, tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm 
 Or too incautious to preserve thy sweets 
 Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect 
 Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup ; 
 Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms 
 She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, 
 Heaven-bora, and destined to the skies again !"* 
 
 Cowper.
 
 14 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DWELLING. 
 
 " When we mean to build, 
 We first survey the plat, then draw the model ; 
 And when we see the figure of the house, 
 Then must we vote the cost of the erection." 
 
 King Henry IV. part 2. 
 
 THERE is such a satisfaction in having a house 
 ot one's own, that most Americans begin to think 
 of building as soon as they are rich enough. It 
 is proverbial that this becomes a mania, even in 
 the country, with men of wealth In quantity, 
 therefore, we have no lack ; the defects are in the 
 quality of our architecture. For want of observing 
 the plain dictate of reason contained in my motto, 
 many great houses are finished less splendidly 
 than they were begun. As I seldom take a walk 
 without seeing the dwelling of some mechanic 
 going forward, I am anxious to make a few sug- 
 gestions on this point. 
 
 A good site is almost every thing : in such a 
 land as ours, few are compelled to build in bad 
 situations. Yet half the houses we see in the 
 country are disadvantageously placed. How little 
 advantage is taken of native groves ! I have in
 
 THE WORKING-MAN S DWELLING. 15 
 
 my eye a very costly edifice, just near enough to 
 a beautiful copse to tempt the belief that the pro- 
 prietor wished to avoid its shades, while he is 
 making a strenuous effort to bring forward some 
 starveling trees in a miserable clay before his door ! 
 The general design is next in importance : this is 
 what strikes the distant beholder. The eye is 
 shocked when, in a clever building, the door has 
 three windows on one side and five on the other. 
 The proportions of length and height, the pitch 
 of roof, the. number, and size, and arrangement 
 of lights, are all matters which demand careful 
 study, in order to produce a good effect ; but in 
 most cases they are left to chance or whim. Sym- 
 metry is as cheap as disproportion, and rich men 
 should not monopolize all neatness and taste. A 
 good plan gives beauty to the plainest materials, 
 while no expense can render a false proportion 
 elegant. A well-designed cottage, of the humblest 
 dimensions and simplest fabric, fills the eye, and 
 gives repose to the mind. But finery cannot hide 
 bad taste ; it oftener betrays it. We may here 
 apply Crabbe's couplet 
 
 " Faults that in dusty pictures rest unknown, 
 Are in an instant through the varnish shown." 
 
 Men who come suddenly to wealth are greatly in 
 danger of falling into this trap. The showy iu 
 architecture is usually coupled with the vulgar; 
 just as in dress the finest are not the truly well-
 
 16 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 bred. Pope has satirized this abuse of orna- 
 ment: 
 
 " Load some vain church with old theatric state 
 Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gate ; 
 Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all 
 On some patch'd dog-hole eked with ends of wall 
 
 " Then clap four slices of pilaster on't, 
 That laced with bits of rustic makes a front ; 
 Shall call the winds through long arcades to roar, 
 Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door." 
 
 Some of our builders, I hope, will read these 
 essays : their influence is of great moment. If 
 well instructed, they will tell such as apply to 
 them, that the word Architecture is not confined 
 to the massy piles of public edifices, but that the 
 very same principles which draught the Birming- 
 ham Town Hall, or the Madelaine, can descend 
 to plan the cottage, or the rustic bridge. These 
 principles ought to be studied, not only in our 
 colleges, but our lyceums and other institutions 
 for the instruction of working-men. Books of 
 architectural plans should be compiled and abstract- 
 ed from the more costly European publications. 
 I am sure any one who is familiar with the Tailor's 
 Magazine, will grant that there is no insuperable 
 obstacle in the way of a builder's periodical. And 
 not architects alone, but all planners and pro- 
 prietors should familiarize their eye to the con- 
 templation of good models.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DWELLING. 17 
 
 The day it is to be hoped will come, when even 
 the day-labourer will not think it necessary to be 
 slovenly because he is poor, and when the most 
 incessant drudges shall begin to see that there are 
 some good things besides coin and bank-notes. 
 The practical man whose views are enlarged will 
 not fail to see that pleasures of imagination and 
 taste have also their price. Decoration naturally 
 comes after use ; we build our houses before we 
 deck them. But in the advancement of society, 
 there is a stage at which men always set a value 
 upon ornament ; and though these circumstances 
 may breed luxury, they have fruits which are 
 desirable, such as increased contentment, placid 
 joy, refined taste, cheerful reflection, and the love 
 of home. 
 
 Along the bank of a half-finished canal I saw, 
 the other day, a settlement, which, at a furlong's 
 distance, showed the origin of its tenants. Ex- 
 temporaneous huts, barrel chimneys, floors with- 
 out boards, windows without glass, and a dunghill 
 at the entrance ; these afforded the symptoms of a 
 hovel. Here was no decoration ; and I argue 
 concerning this settlement, that there are no intel- 
 lectual pleasures, no taste, no gentleness, no fire- 
 side happiness. 
 
 Let me change the scene. I knew a family of 
 
 English people, no richer than those just noticed, 
 
 who lived in a dwelling no larger than one of 
 
 these but how different ! I see it yet in memory, 
 
 2*
 
 18 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 its whitened palings and beaten walk to the door, 
 its tight sides and close roof, and especially its 
 edge of summer flowers around a plot of the clean- 
 est grass, and its roses and woodbine creeping 
 over every window. They were poor, but they 
 were tidy. More than this ; they were fond of 
 natural beauty, and fond of home, and therefore 
 always aiming to make home lovely. 
 
 Every reader has many times seen the same 
 thing, and some have already learned the con- 
 nexion between simple decoration and domestic 
 virtue and peace. Why does an English cottage 
 strike an American with surprise ? Why does he 
 look, as at a strange thing, upon the French pea- 
 santry taking their evening repast beneath their 
 trees and vines ? Because we Americans are so 
 particularly practical, and so possessed of the 
 demon of trade, that nothing is valuable which 
 cannot be sold. Value is becoming equivalent to 
 vendibility. Valuable means saleable : worth 
 means money. If a flower, or a hedge-row, or a 
 cascade, or a bust, or a prospect, add to the price 
 under the hammer, these things are valuable, and 
 are straightway inserted in the lithographic view 
 of the auctioneer. They are useful. Usefulness 
 is that quality of things whereby they bring 
 money.
 
 THE GARDEN AND GROUNDS. 19 
 
 1 
 
 III. 
 
 THE GARDEN AND GROUNDS. 
 
 " Tall thriving trees confess the fruitful mould, 
 The reddening apple ripens here to gold ; 
 Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'erflows, 
 With deeper red the full pomegranate glows, &c. 
 HOMER'S Odyssey, book vii. 
 
 IT was certainly an exaggeration of Mrs. Trol- 
 lope to say, that no one could ever hear two 
 Americans talk five minutes without the word 
 dollar. So Bonaparte exaggerated when he called 
 the British " a nation of shopkeepers." Be it so. 
 Caricatures often tell the truth. Even the hideous 
 concave mirror, though it exaggerate ever so much, 
 shows me some grand blemishes of my face. I 
 have tried the experiment, in walking the crowded 
 streets of our cities, to catch the predominant 
 word of the passers-by. The catalogue is limited, 
 and consists of such as these, " Ten per cent." 
 " doing a good business" " money market" 
 "operations in property" "exchange" " stock" 
 " thousand dollars" " credit" " profits" 
 " fortune," &c. &c. 
 
 If a man is so practical that he will not wash 
 his face without " value received," I entertain no
 
 20 THE WORKING-MAS. 
 
 hopes of bringing him over. I have no purchase 
 for my instrument. Now cleanliness is a sort of 
 decoration ; negative, perhaps, but the condition 
 of all the rest. Neatness follows very closely : 
 a cleanly child is usually neat. The cleanly 
 housewife fs sure to produce in her cottage a cer- 
 tain trim and symmetrical arrangement which 
 gratifies the eye. This is neatness budding into 
 beauty. This transition ought to be seized upon 
 wherever it appears. The pleasant little children 
 who are yonder playing in the dust may be taught 
 to keep themselves clean, and then to be neat. 
 This is the path towards decoration. Taste needs 
 development. These creatures may be bred to 
 enjoy ornament : and thus we may get a race of 
 people, even among the poor, who will begin to 
 beautify the land. I live in the hope of seeing 
 cottages along our multiplied and dirty railways, 
 each adorned not only with a white surface and a 
 close fence, but with roses, pinks, tulips, and all 
 the pretty vegetable gifts of a loving Providence ; 
 gifts which our yeomanry have too much banished 
 to green-houses and ballads. 
 
 The ways of adorning a house by rural aids 
 are various, and so well known as scarcely to need 
 enumeration. They may be adapted to the low- 
 liest habitation of civilized man, no less than to 
 the villa or the chateau. Nothing but love for 
 domestic beauty and ordinary tact are required to 
 rear a thousand tasteful abodes along all our high-
 
 THE GARDEN AND GROUNDS. 21 
 
 ways. And if but one provident householder will 
 begin, we shall find that, humble as his habitation 
 may be, he will soon be imitated by his neigh- 
 bours. Fashion itself, the cause of so many fol- 
 lies, may be brought in aid of virtuous enjoyment. 
 Let some working-man make the trial, by holding 
 up before his mind rural decoration as a distinct 
 object. Let him secure to himself a house and 
 garden where he is willing to spend his life. Let 
 him, as his means allow, have it tight and finished, 
 and by all means duly enclosed. This is the 
 frame-work ; after this ensue the details. Let 
 him learn the economy of a little timely paint, 
 and of a fence or hedge which will withstand the 
 assaults of wind and beasts. From day to day, 
 as he may be able to snatch a moment for breathing 
 the fresh air, let him remove unsightly objects 
 and make an entrance upon positive ornament. 
 How easy it is to set out clumps or rows of trees, 
 for shade and fruit, flowering shrubs or evergreen 
 hedges ! How agreeable to the wife and the little 
 ones, to be called out to join in dropping the cheap 
 flower-seed or training the luxuriant vine ! 
 
 To men whose life is spent in labour, the sub- 
 ject is peculiarly interesting. The confinement 
 of their daily toils creates the want of just such 
 relaxation and refreshment as have been indicated. 
 And let it be remembered that in our country even 
 the poor man should cultivate his taste, because 
 every poor man may look forward to the time 
 when he shall be rich. Let him educate his
 
 22 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 faculties, that his ignorance may not some day 
 disgrace his wealth. It is common to sneer at 
 the mechanic, and to consider the youth who be- 
 comes an apprentice as degraded. This is very 
 short-sighted. I know no class of society whom 
 success makes so truly independent, or who in 
 the decline of life have so much leisure as mecha- 
 nics. Compare them, in this respect, with pro- 
 fessional men. The lawyer or the physician, 
 howeter wealthy he may become, finds still in- 
 creasing labours ; the more riches, the more toil. 
 Unless he relinquishes his business altogether, he 
 must do the work himself. He cannot send his 
 foreman to plead a cause, or to set a leg ; nor can 
 he, like the rich mechanic, sit in his parlour or 
 his arbour, and know that all his great concerns 
 are well conducted by proxy. Working-men 
 should look to this, and from the time when they 
 first enter a habitation of their own, should culti- 
 vate the delights of domestic ornament. 
 
 Among these ornaments, the highest rank is 
 due to Gardening; including in that term the 
 rearing of valuable trees. Children should be 
 early taught that when they set out a fine tree, or 
 insert a graft, they are doing a favour to posterity, 
 and beginning that which shall continue to make 
 others happy when they are in their graves. It 
 has always been pleasant to me to see the house 
 of the industrious citizen embowered in flower- 
 ing vines and trees. And on Saturday evening, 
 a season when so many forsake their work onlv
 
 THE GARDEN AND GROUNDS. 23 
 
 for the porter-house or the tavern, the man who 
 possesses such a retreat will have a strong induce- 
 ment to seek his delightful home, and meet his 
 little household among the smiles of natural 
 scenery. 
 
 There are many very precious maxims of life 
 which need to be pointed out ; they are overlooked 
 by the mass of people. Once indicated, they 
 are believed and embraced. Among these is the 
 following: Simple ornament hinders no good 
 use. The watch runs as well in a comely case, 
 as it would in a deal box. The draught is just 
 as savoury out of a chased tankard. And every 
 good of household life is unimpaired by nestling 
 among green foliage, climbing honeysuckles, and 
 parterres of flowers. I long to see this acted upon 
 by our people. I long to see them snatching a 
 few hours from the noisy throng of idlers, and 
 the delirious mirth of the bar-room, and spending 
 them on the little innocent decorations of humble 
 but delightful home. 
 
 The time required for beautifying a house and 
 enclosure is really so little, that it scarcely admits 
 of being brought into a calculation. A few minutes 
 at daybreak, in the spring and autumn, will in the 
 course of a year work wonders. A few snatches 
 of time after labour is ended may be spared by the 
 busiest man. If his work has lain within doors, 
 or has been of the sedentary kind, a little exercise 
 and air, enjoyed in pruning his hedge or trimming 
 his vines, will be restorative to his health and
 
 24 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 spirits. This is better than mere repose. Nature 
 abhors a vacuum of employment. Is not this posi- 
 tive gain? Health is "the poor man's riches:" 
 that which conduces to it is worth more than 
 money. Even those who are athletic, or who 
 work at trades which give them constant motion, 
 do not the less need something of this sort. It is 
 not mere muscular exertion which preserves and 
 restores health. There may be great bodily effort 
 with no better result than fatigue. What every 
 man requires when the day is done, is gentle 
 recreation, something between work and play, 
 which shall break the train of moody thought, 
 repair the waste of nervous elasticity, and put the 
 jaded mind in good humour with itself and 
 others. 
 
 When the artizan, after his evening repast, goes 
 out to water his flowers, every thing he touches 
 is his own ; and nothing so much his own as the 
 tree he planted or the shades he gathered. He is 
 refreshed and tranquillized, and grows into the 
 love of home. These pleasures are mightily in- 
 creased, when he sees around him his little child- 
 ren partaking in his toils and joys, and cheering 
 one another with the merry laugh to work or 
 sport; while the wife's voice, heard within, as 
 she sings contentedly over the cradle, adds a lovely 
 music to the scene. This is a picture, of which 
 the original may be found in many a poor bu* 
 happy family ; would that it were so in all ! Un-
 
 THE GARDEN AND GROUNDS. 25 
 
 
 
 der such shades as these, domestic quiet loves to 
 dwell ; and in such a spot religion finds its sanc- 
 tuary. 
 
 Contrast with this a case which we are often 
 called to witness. The mechanic or labourer has 
 worked hard all day. At the close of his toils he 
 turns his face homewards. But he has not pro- 
 vided or cherished at his dwelling any strong 
 attraction. No refinement of taste has ever soft- 
 ened his spirit. It has been too much his practice 
 to pass his leisure hours elsewhere. He feels the 
 need of some relaxation. He is languid from 
 fatigue, and sullen from the disgust of labour. In 
 such a condition he is easily attracted to the bar- 
 room. There, amidst the odours of liquor and 
 tobacco, he forgets his previous listlessness and 
 anxiety, to become the victim of an unnatural 
 and dangerous excitement. The glass, the jest, 
 and the song make the evening fly swiftly. Late 
 at night he wends his way home, if not drunk, 
 yet humbled, discontented, and peevish. No 
 children greet him with their joyous laugh ; the 
 neglected little creatures are asleep, and the sad 
 wife is awake only through anxious expectation 
 of her husband. Am I extravagant in tracing 
 much of the misery in such a case to the want of 
 taste for those little things which make one's home 
 desirable ? As a general observation, I have never 
 seen idle or profligate sons issuing from within 
 the cottage paling which has been adorned by 
 3
 
 86 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 their own infant hands. And, on the other hand, 
 it would require a stoical love of virtue for its own 
 sake, to make any youth love the foul, smoky, 
 fenceless cabin of a thriftless father. Sweeten 
 home, and you close nine out of ten doors to 
 temptation.
 
 HUSBAND AND WIPE. 87 
 
 IV. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIPE. 
 
 " Sufficiency, content, 
 Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
 Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 
 Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven ! 
 These are the matchless joys of virtuous love." 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 IT is well known to all readers of fiction, that 
 the novel commonly ends, as soon as the happy 
 pair are united at the altar ; and it would be thought 
 a singular romance in which the interest should 
 be made to turn mainly upon the pleasures of 
 married life. But whatever it may be in fiction, 
 wedlock is the source of the richest happiness in 
 real life. Its joys indeed are not of the sort which 
 the novelist loves to dwell on ; they are less like 
 the lightning or the meteor than the sunset or the 
 dawn. They are not the raptures of the lover, 
 which are often founded in mere sense, and vanish 
 when youth and beauty are gone ; but the steady 
 glow of a true love that outlasts every external 
 charm, and holds on its constant light even amidst 
 wrinkles and old age. 
 
 Trite as the subject is, I must be allowed to 
 spend a little time upon it, as it is nearly connected
 
 28 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 with the happiness of the working-man's home. 
 What is life, especially to the artisan, without 
 home ? and what is home, without gentle woman, 
 the friend, the wife, the mother? The English 
 nobleman, and those who ape his manners, may 
 trample on these domestic pleasures ; but it is like 
 treading down the lily of the valley, the cowslip, 
 and the violet. Husband and wife, in high life, 
 may affect great coldness, live apart, maintain 
 separate equipages, and flaunt at different water- 
 ing-places ; they have debauched all taste for the 
 joys of nature and of virtue: but husband and 
 wife, in our happier sphere, are necessary to one 
 another, and cannot be severed without loss and 
 anguish. 
 
 In our favoured land there can scarcely be said 
 to be any check to marriage. Our young people 
 marry early, and are free from that sullen, brood- 
 ing prudence which is inculcated by painful 
 necessity on the peasantry of the old country. 
 Matrimony is therefore more an affair of the 
 heart; and this, in spite of all sneers at love- 
 marriages, I shall ever hold to be a great advan- 
 tage. What was said on this subject by Franklin, 
 seventy years ago, is still true, that early mar- 
 riages stand the best chance of happiness. The 
 temper and habits are plastic and easily run toge- 
 ther ; the want of personal experience is supplied 
 by that of elder friends who still survive. " Late 
 children," says the Spanish proverb, " are early 
 orphans." " With us in America," Dr. Franklin
 
 HUSBAND AND WIPE. 2? 
 
 wrote in 1768, " marriages are generally in the 
 morning of life ; our children are therefore edu- 
 cated and settled in the world by noon ; and thus, 
 our business being done, we have an afternoon 
 and evening of cheerful leisure to ourselves. By 
 these early marriages we are blessed with more 
 children ; ****** hence the swift progress of 
 population among us, unparalleled in Europe." 
 
 Profane jesters and rakes have succeeded in 
 getting afloat in society too many idle and wicked 
 sayings about the state of matrimony. It is a truth 
 at once of Scripture and observation, that " he that 
 findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, and obtaineth 
 favour of the Lord." I am so far from having 
 any fears of infusing into rr,y readers unduly 
 romantic notions in regard to marriage, that I am 
 convinced the households of our working-men 
 would be invested with a new charm if the mutual 
 regards of husband and wife could be hallowed 
 with more of these tender, respectful, and sacred 
 sentiments. 
 
 Poor Sedley ! what I have just written brings 
 him to my mind. Though what the world would 
 call but a common man, he had a heart worthy of 
 a knight-errant. He is now gone ; but I am sure 
 there is many a woman living who remembers the 
 chaste but tender respect, almost passionate, if it 
 had not been almost courtly, with which he re- 
 garded the sex. And as for Isabel his wife, though 
 at the time I mean she was neither beautiful nor 
 young, she seemed in Sedley's eyes to be the 
 3*
 
 30 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 representative of all the virtues. I never heard 
 from them a fondling expression, or observed the 
 slightest indication of that conjugal mellowness 
 which is a sort of perpetuated honey-moon. But 
 then respect and love breathed from every action. 
 
 Once I found him, when much enfeebled by 
 disease, so much affected as to be in tears. " I 
 am an unlucky fellow," said he, laying his hand 
 on mine ; " I have hurt the feelings of my best 
 friend of Isabel. No," said he, " I recall the 
 phrase it is often but another name for anger 
 and anger never rested in her gentle bosom. 
 Grief grief that is the word : I have grieved 
 her. By my sullenness and petulance, the fruit 
 of my diseases, but yet unpardonable, I have 
 grieved her. And I must go," he exclaimed, 
 " and ask her forgiveness, for in fifteen years she 
 has never given me a look of unkindness." It 
 was with difficulty that I persuaded him to lay 
 aside this purpose. He could scarcely believe 
 that a needless explanation is always a source of 
 real pain. When I afterwards found that Isabel 
 gently smiled at his caprices, which she under- 
 stood better than himself, I was only the more 
 convinced that " a virtuous woman is a crown to 
 her husband, and that her price is above rubies." 
 
 Let the debauchee prate of the constraint of 
 wedded love, and the zest he has in licentious 
 pleasure ; let the monkish casuist declaim against 
 wedlock as a lower condition in point of morals : 
 I will still repeat the verses of the matchless bard
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 31 
 
 verses which I would that every young Ameri- 
 can had engraven on his memory : 
 
 " Far be it that I should write thee sin or blame, 
 Or think thee unbefitting holiest place. 
 Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, 
 Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced, 
 Present or past, as saints and patriarchs used. 
 Here love his constant shafts employs, here lights 
 His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, 
 Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
 Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd, 
 Casual fruition ; nor in court amours, 
 Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball, 
 Or serenate, which the starved lover sings 
 To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain."
 
 32 THE WORKING-MAN 
 
 V. 
 
 THE WIFE AT HOME. 
 
 " For nothing lovelier can be found 
 In woman, than to study household good, 
 And good works in her husband to promote." 
 
 MILTOIT. 
 
 IT has been one of my most serious apprehen- 
 sions, that in the multitude of our societies and 
 public combinations, men and women might chance 
 to forget that they have any thing to do indivi- 
 dually. We have societies to take care of our 
 health, and societies to take care of our kitchens. 
 Almsgiving, so far as practised at all, is practised 
 chiefly by wholesale. Perhaps we may see the 
 day when we shall dine together like the Spartans, 
 and when all cookery and education shall be done 
 upon the large scale. 
 
 These thoughts were suggested to my mind 
 with greater force than common, a few days since, 
 upon my making a visit to the house of Mrs. 
 Nelson, the wife of a reputable farmer, a few 
 miles from our village. If I were to attempt a 
 portrait of this excellent lady, I should fill a 
 volume ; I can only give an outline. Mrs. Nel- 
 son is, in the American as well as the English
 
 THE WIFE AT HOME. 33 
 
 sense, a fine woman. Temperance, early rising, 
 industry, and, above all, serene cheerfulness of 
 soul, have left on her cheek at forty those roses 
 which fashion and excitement often blast before 
 fifteen. But what I took my pen to notice was, 
 that truly feminine and Christian trait of my good 
 friend she is a " keeper at home."* Though I 
 have been a church-going man many years, I do 
 not remember to have heard any one of our clergy 
 enlarge upon this Scripture phrase ; and yet the 
 older I grow, the more wisdom there seems to be 
 in it. The best women in the world are those 
 who stay at home ; such is the opinion of the best 
 judges, to wit, their husbands. The worst women 
 are those who have no home, or who love all 
 other places better ; such is the verdict of those 
 who meet them abroad. A wife at the hearth is 
 as indispensable as a steersman at the wheel. 
 There is scarcely any degree of prudence or firm- 
 ness which will enable a man to have a well- 
 ordered family unless his partner have some of 
 the same qualities. Even the success of out-door 
 business is more dependent upon this than is com- 
 monly supposed : agreeably to a vulgar proverb, 
 " He that would thrive, must ask his wife." In 
 a house where children or apprentices are to be 
 cared for, this is plainly true. A little procrasti- 
 nation, sloth, or want of thrift in the woman will 
 suffice to make every thing go wrong. Who can 
 
 * Titus ii. 5.
 
 34 THE WOKKING-MAN. 
 
 count up the cases where poor fellows have been 
 ruined by their wives ? 
 
 This is a hard saying, but if it were softened it 
 would be less true. Surely it is no disrespect to 
 the better sex to point out those rare exceptions, 
 which, like the dim tarnish on the face of the 
 moon, make the other tracts look all the brighter. 
 After you shall have exaggerated to the utmost 
 the number and the faults of idle, gadding, gossip- 
 ing women, we shall still have a million of Ame- 
 rican housewives, brightening a million homes 
 and hearts. Mrs. Nelson is one of them. Her 
 husband is not the meekest man in the county, 
 nor by nature the most hospitable, but she makes 
 up for all, like the credit side of an account. In 
 the exercise of the passive virtues, she finds her 
 greatest happiness. She holds it to be one of the 
 very first duties of life to render her home delight- 
 ful, first to her husband, next to her children, and 
 then to all who may enter her hospitable doors. 
 Early in life, she observed that several of her 
 husband's intimate acquaintances were becoming 
 irregular in their habits ; she talked it over with 
 Nelson. He, being a rough man, declared it to 
 be his intention to break off all connexion with 
 Lang and Shepherd on the spot. " 0, no, hus- 
 band !" said she ; " that would be cruel : remem- 
 ber the proverb, ' a soft word breaketh the bone.' 
 Let me alone to bring them to their bearings ; at 
 any rate give me a month for an experiment." 
 " You !" he exclaimed, in astonishment ; " Mary,
 
 THE WIFE AT HOME. 35 
 
 you amaze me ; surely you will not follow them 
 to the bar-room, as Jemima Murphy does her 
 goodman ?" " Perhaps not," said his wife, 
 laughing ; " but we women have some secrets 
 left still. Wait but a month." 
 
 The month rolled round. It was with difficulty 
 that Nelson kept himself from falling upon the 
 two men violently, but he waited to see the issue, 
 and even kept out of their way, that the incanta- 
 tion might not be interrupted. At the close of 
 three weeks, Lang and Shepherd were two of the 
 most quiet, orderly, and domestic men in the 
 neighbourhood. " Why, Mary," said Nelson, 
 " what have you been doing to them ?" " I ! 
 husband ! I have not exchanged words with them 
 for weeks." " Then you have had some witch- 
 craft at work." " None in the world," she re- 
 plied ; " the story is soon related. I had observed 
 for a long time that their homes were growing 
 dismal : and I often told Mrs. Lang what I feared 
 concerning her husband. Indeed, I had heard 
 you tell of Lang's repeating over his glass that 
 abominable saying, ' the devil's at home.' After 
 my talk with you I set to work, not on the hus- 
 bands, but their wives. Simple creatures ! they 
 scarcely knew what I meant. They wished in- 
 deed that the men would spend more time at 
 home, and even wept about their late hours and 
 beer-drinking. But they were not prepared for 
 my telling them that they must redouble the attrac- 
 tions of their own fireside make the cheer better
 
 36 THE WOKKING-MAN. 
 
 the fire brighter the children cleaner the 
 house tidier the welcome heartier ; call in a plea- 
 sant neighbour to tea, or a friend's daughter to 
 sing an innocent song, and even invite to a com- 
 fortable supper two or three of their husband's 
 cronies. Before long they began to have pleasant 
 evenings ; and by a choice of company, a little 
 good fruit, lemonade, home-made cake, and music, 
 fairly convinced the two men that they could go 
 pleasantly to bed without ale, porter, or brandied 
 wine. The thing has taken admirably, and you 
 see the result." 
 
 Now though it is likely Nelson did not just 
 then suspect it, this was the very course which 
 had proved successful in saving himself from 
 ruinous habits. And most earnestly is it to be 
 wished that all our towns and villages were filled 
 with such wives as honour and love the family 
 institution ! Every one has made the observation 
 that there are many more women who are religious, 
 than men ; but the final cause of this has not so often 
 been remarked. Divine Providence, by this dis- 
 criminating favour to the one sex, pours influence 
 into the social fountain. As are the mothers of a 
 nation, so will be the sons, and, in a measure, the 
 husbands. But to exercise full influence, the wife 
 must be a keeper at home. She will find enough 
 to employ her longest days, in the endless circle 
 of household cares. While she will welcome the 
 evening visiter, and often enlarge her frugal board 
 for the bevy of friends, or even join in the social
 
 THE WIFE AT HOME. 37 
 
 party or the cheerful sleigh-ride, these things will 
 be the exceptions, not the rule. So living, she 
 will give happiness to the increasing circle. " Her 
 children arise and call her blessed ; her husband 
 also and he praiseth her."
 
 38 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " How bless'd the maid whose heart, yet free 
 From love's uneasy sovereignty, 
 Beats with a fancy running high, 
 Her simple cares to magnify : 
 Whom labour, never urged to toil, 
 Hath cherish'd on a healthful soil." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 WHEN I look around me among my fair coun- 
 trywomen, and see them equal in grace and love- 
 liness to any upon earth; and when I observe 
 how many of the most beautiful are come out 
 from the dwellings of industry, I am filled with a 
 glow of satisfaction which I would not repress 
 and cannot put into words. But personal charms 
 are the least of the graces of American women. 
 It is, I hope, no part of our national conceit to 
 think that the world cannot show more virtuous 
 women. Perhaps the poison of the town is, in 
 some degree, creeping into the country ; but still, 
 in rural neighbourhoods, the virgin purity of the 
 sex bears comparison with the choice of the 
 whole earth. 
 
 There are few things of which men are more 
 proud than of their daughters. The young father
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 follows the sportive girl with his eye, as he che- 
 rishes an emotion of complacency not so tender 
 but quite as active as the mother's. The aged 
 father leans on his daughter as the crutch of his 
 declining years. An old proverb says that the 
 son is son till he is married, but the daughter is 
 daughter forever. This is something like the 
 truth. Though the daughter leaves the parental 
 hearth, she is still followed by kindly regards. 
 The gray-haired father drops in every day to 
 greet the beloved face ; and when he pats the 
 cheeks of the little grandchildren, it is chiefly 
 because the bond which unites him to them passes 
 through the heart of his darling Mary ; she is his 
 daughter still. 
 
 You have, my reader, a daughter your hope, 
 your pride. It is a blessing for which you may 
 welt thank Heaven: it is a trust at which you 
 may well tremble. Beware how you neglect or 
 mismanage so delicate a plant. Slight storms will 
 blast a texture so susceptible. While your eye 
 is upon your cherished girl, and the gush of affec- 
 tion is strongest and warmest, open your mind to 
 the importance of being a wise father. What has 
 this frail but inestimable creature to ask at your 
 hands ? 
 
 She should be guarded. It is superfluous to 
 say that our daughters walk among dangers. Eveu 
 at school, nay, in the bosom of our family, they 
 require cautious attention. "A child left to him- 
 self," says Solomon, "bringeth his mother to
 
 40 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 shame :" it is doubly true of the daughter. This 
 is not one of the things which may be abandoned 
 to self-management. Principles must be implant- 
 ed, and heavenly precepts inculcated. The rich 
 soil, when left untilled, brings forth a horrid crop . 
 of rank weeds. I would gladly avoid saying it, I 
 but even female companions may be snares, and 
 it is not impossible for gay and fascinating girls 
 to be bad associates. It has happened again and 
 again that maidens have fallen when they merely 
 " went out to see the daughters of the land." 
 Far be it from me to commend the old Spanish 
 plan of seclusion : I have no such wish. Let the 
 gay creatures move freely in the circle of friends, 
 but still let the parental eye and the parental hand 
 be ever ready to descry and avert the danger. 
 The great point is gained when the father is con- 
 vinced that the daughter needs his care. He is 
 less anxious, and she is safe. 
 
 She should be educated. The age is favour- 
 able to this. In heathen countries women have 
 always been uneducated drudges. Among the 
 most refined of the ancients, an educated woman 
 was a sort of black swan, an object of curiosity 
 and amazement. Among our own Christian an- 
 cestors, female education was made to consist 
 almost entirely in housewifery, and a few offices 
 of religion. But in this country, at present, the 
 stream of opinion is wholly in favour of giving 
 learning and accomplishment to the sex. As a 
 general observation, it is true that daughters all
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 over the country have a better training than that 
 of their mothers. Perhaps there is some danger 
 of going to the extreme of refinement, and under- 
 taking to give grace, and polish, and embellish- 
 ment beyond what the solid acquisition will bear. 
 
 Give your daughter the best education you can 
 afford : you can give her nothing better. And 
 when I say the best education, I mean of course 
 that which is most suited to her expectations in 
 life, including in the term, not merely book-learn- 
 ing, but the household arts and the culture of the 
 heart. There is tendency enough towards mere 
 accomplishments, such as music, drawing, fancy- 
 work, and the like ; so that I plead more earnestly 
 for the solids. And with respect to the latter, it is 
 certainly safer to err on the side of too much, than 
 on that of too little. Any little excess of attain- 
 ment will be easily forgotten and thrown off amidst 
 the cares of a family. The wife and mother has 
 far less time than the husband to make attainments 
 in after life ; she must therefore get as much as is 
 possible before marriage. In most of the schools 
 with which I am acquainted, girls have too many 
 branches offered to their attention. A girl's edu- 
 cation is usually considered as complete after a 
 course of three or four years ; yet in this brief 
 period she is expected in some seminaries to 
 acquire the same amount of learning which it 
 takes boys three times as long to acquire ; and 
 this over and above a list of minor ornamental 
 branches of which the value is commonly in the 
 4*
 
 42 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 inverse proportion of the cost. This has weighed 
 heavily upon my mind for some years past ; when 
 I have seen the daughters of men who are frugal 
 and practical in other matters, really cheated out 
 of a good education by the quackery of a false 
 system. The point of this rebuke is directed not 
 so much against particular teachers, who will and 
 must furnish what the public taste demands, as 
 against those parents who are so foolish as to 
 bring up their children on a diet of froth, flowers, 
 and syllabub. No discreet parent surely will allow 
 himself to look upon his daughter's education as 
 a mere bait for suitors : he who does so is deck- 
 ing a victim for sacrifice. On the contrary, unless 
 you can secure to your child a longer course of 
 instruction than the average term, you will do well 
 to limit her to a moderate number of branches, 
 and these the most valuable, and to see that in 
 these she is as thoroughly instructed as a boy 
 would be in the same. Moreover, you will not 
 allow yourself to be satisfied with the advertise- 
 ments, circulars, or other professions of great 
 schools, however fashionable, as to the choice of 
 studies for your daughter, but will, after the best 
 advice, select such a course as will promise disci- 
 pline to her mind, and usefulness throughout life. 
 
 There is one more suggestion concerning this 
 important subject, and then I leave your daughter 
 to your own care : She should be well married. 
 True enough ! you will exclaim ; but how is this
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 to be accomplished ? I will tell you : not by 
 manoeuvring, or match-making, or any mercenary 
 or trade compact, such as, according to a hack- 
 neyed pun, may make " matrimony a matter of 
 money;" not by any measure to procure this or 
 that man as a son-in-law. Your cares are to have 
 another direction. Make your daughter all that 
 it is in your power to make her, by education in 
 its widest sense, and be assured she will never 
 lack suitors. The great difficulty will be to pre- 
 vent her being snatched away from you by some 
 unworthy man. How shall this be prevented ? 
 Not, as I think, by laying a repressing hand of 
 cold iron upon affections already formed. No ! 
 no ! It is almost always too late when matters 
 have reached this point. But a wise line of con- 
 duct will be preventive of a wrong alliance in two 
 particulars. For, first, if you bring the girl up in 
 right principles, with knowledge, modesty, and 
 affectionate duty, she will be in little danger of 
 suffering any passion to gain strength against the 
 wishes of a parent. And, again, if a suitable 
 guard be placed over her associations, she will be 
 seldom in those companies where such alliances 
 are most apt to be formed, and will thus be kept 
 out of harm's way. 
 
 O mothers, mothers ! how greatly are ye con- 
 cerned in this matter ! While you encourage 
 these young creatures in superficial accomplish- 
 ments, ind bold display, you are often preparing
 
 44 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 for them a lifetime of chagrin and misery. On 
 the other hand, where you train them at your 
 side, by precept and example, in retiring, indus- 
 trious, studious, virtuous habits, you are preparing 
 them to be " corner-stones, polished after the 
 similitude of a palace."
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 45 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 " Much zeal in virtue's cause all teachers boast, 
 Though motives of mere lucre sway the most" 
 
 COWPEH. 
 
 IT is pleasing to observe, as education spreads 
 its influence more and more widely, that the in- 
 structers of our children are rising in public esti- 
 mation. It has not been many years since the 
 very name of schoolmaster was a temptation to a 
 sneer. Perhaps the fault was sometimes in the 
 pedagogues themselves : they were not always 
 learned, they were not always discreet. It was 
 not indeed more common then, than now, for 
 young men raw from college to teach for a year 
 or two, until they might become clergymen, law- 
 yers, or doctors ; but while they did so they were 
 not held in great veneration ; and the older sort, 
 who made it a business for life, were often bache- 
 lors, humorists, and pedants. In the very State 
 in which I am writing, there is a township, in 
 which a majority of the schoolmasters were drunk- 
 ards ; and that since the Revolution. Poor fellows ! 
 I might wonder how they continued to buy their 
 drink, out of the pittance which they received for
 
 46 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 leaching, if I did not reflect that a man may kill 
 himself with whisky for two shillings. They 
 used to go about from house to house, like country 
 tailors ; and were less regarded. In the hard 
 winters, many of them travelled on foot more 
 miles in a month than they received dollars in a 
 year. The school-houses were wretched dens, 
 with no earthly recommendation but their airiness 
 in the summer ; and in these boys and girls, as 
 full of mischief and prank as buxom health could 
 make them, would vex the red-wigged master till 
 his carbuncled nose emulated the red cloaks behind 
 the door. Then came the smothered laugh, the 
 furious reconnoitre of the offending bench, the 
 cuff, the slap, the rejoinder, the surrejoinder ; 
 the quip modest, the reply churlish, the reproof 
 yaliant, the countercheck quarrelsome ; till down 
 fell the birchen shower. A stranger might have 
 taken the engagement for a fight, as the whole 
 commonly issued in a mutual castigation, in which 
 the master was reduced to a good humour, and 
 making a virtue of necessity, passed it all off as 
 a joke. 
 
 In those days, however, of Cocker and Dil- 
 worth, there were some ripe scholars, even in the 
 glens of the mountains ; and if learning was hardly 
 come by, it was prized the more. Old men aro 
 living, who remember to have heard Latin talked 
 in the upper forms of log school-houses ; nay, who 
 have seen and heard the master, in a fine frenzy, 
 spout Cicero, and even Demosthenes, in the ori
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 47 
 
 ginal. There were some who had emigrated from 
 " the old country," and some were bred among 
 ourselves, who taught for the love of it, and who 
 would scarcely have been willing to exchange the 
 ferula for the truncheon of a commander. 
 
 Many young people are now-a-days receiving 
 a finished education, whose fathers scarcely knew 
 a letter in a book. A few months ago, in a some- 
 what secluded place, almost five hundred miles 
 from here, I found the state of affairs so changed 
 from what it once was, that the daughters of me- 
 chanics were learning French, Latin, and the 
 guitar. Whether this is wise or not may be re- 
 served for future discussion ; but one thing is 
 certain, working-men are setting a higher value 
 than formerly on education. If we may judge 
 of the demand for an article by the price, teaching 
 is a better business than it was. People are be- 
 ginning to find out, that the man who gives good 
 learning to their sons and daughters is doing them 
 a favour. The schoolmaster is lifting his head, 
 and is no longer ashamed of the title. It is right 
 that this feeling should prevail, especially in the 
 case of those who make teaching a business for 
 life. Such men, if faithful and competent, are 
 second to none in the good they do. The per- 
 manent teacher, especially when venerable for 
 his years, ought to be honoured in every circle. 
 While he looks benignandy round him on those 
 whose fathers he has in former days led*, along 
 the ways of knowledge, he should be made to
 
 48 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 feel that his services are not undervalued. When 
 this shall be more generally the case, there will 
 be fewer instances of retreat from the vocation. 
 The instructer of youth will be regarded as con- 
 stituting one of the learned professions ; and young 
 men will look forward to this calling, just as they 
 do to the pulpit or the bar. "If it were asked," 
 says a late English writer, " what class of men 
 would receive, in the present or next generation, 
 the rewards to which their labours, when rightly 
 understood and assiduously performed, justly 
 entitle them, it might be answered, with every 
 appearance of probability those who improve 
 the moral and intellectual characters of individuals, 
 and fit them to perform the various duties of life 
 with satisfaction to themselves and advantage to 
 others." 
 
 A difficulty suggests itself in the case of many 
 mechanics and other men of the industrious classes, 
 which merits special attention. We have among 
 us highly respectable persons of this description, 
 who have never received a thorough education. 
 Still they are improved by their own exertions, 
 and by intercourse with society, and are conse- 
 quently far above the contemptible prejudice with 
 which ignorant parents regard all science and lite- 
 rature. So far are they from this, that they lament 
 their own deficiencies, and hold nothing more 
 resolutely before their minds than the purpose to 
 have their children instructed. But in seeing this 
 accomplished, there is this hinderance : they can-
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 4P 
 
 not themselves pretend to decide who is and who 
 is not a fit teacher ; and in this age, when recom- 
 mendations for pills, or dictionaries, or professors, 
 are as easily obtained as bank-accommodation, no 
 parent can rely on mere general testimonials. 
 Habits of calculation naturally lead a man in such 
 a case to make the price a criterion : and here is 
 a common snare. Wo to the boy or girl whose 
 parent has been beguiled by a schoolmaster with 
 no great merit but his cheapness. Cheapen your 
 watch or your chaise, but not your child's instruc- 
 tion. I knew a teacher once I know him still 
 whose like I would gladly see in every town and 
 hamlet of my country. Though aiming to be no 
 more than a common schoolmaster, he might have 
 graced the chair of a university. His manners 
 are formal, and his language precise, and his deci- 
 sions positive : these things are wont so to be, in 
 one that has ruled for fifty years. Yet he is bland, 
 and ready to communicate. He will put on his 
 huge round spectacles even now, to rule a girl's 
 copy-book. His gray hairs sometimes blow about 
 in the wind, while he is fixing a dial in a pupil's 
 garden. He has been a great aid to surveyors and 
 almanac-makers, and is suspected of helping the 
 clergyman to scraps of Greek and Hebrew. For 
 though he teaches English, he is not strange in 
 the ancient lore ; and I am not sure that among 
 all my good old mates, there is a single one who 
 could better give the meaning of a hard quotation, 
 than Robert Appletree. 
 
 5
 
 50 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 Continued. 
 
 " The village all declared how much he knew ; 
 Twas certain he could write and cipher too ; 
 Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 
 And even the story ran that he could gauge : 
 In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, 
 For even though vanquish'd he could argue still." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 WE are apt to flatter one another that the world 
 is growing wiser and better every day; and if 
 great public improvements are to be taken as a 
 fair sign, we are doubtless a greater people than 
 our forefathers. They, poor souls, had neither 
 steamships nor railways ; the division of labour, 
 which with us leads to such perfection in all the 
 arts, had with them gone but a few steps. Books 
 were rare among them ; exceedingly rare among 
 the earlier American settlers ; so that the libraries 
 of many able and learned men, before the Revo- 
 lution, were smaller than collections which may 
 now be found among mechanics. Schools are 
 more numerous, and nearer together, and scarcely 
 a day passes but we hear of discoveries in educa- 
 tion, which are almost as numerous as patent
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 51 
 
 medicines. Surely the age must be getting wiser. 
 Laying together a number of signs, such as the 
 magnetic pills, animal magnetism, phrenology, 
 the prolongation of life by vegetable diet, the 
 astonishing modes of teaching penmanship in six 
 lessons, and French in twenty, and the ponderous 
 volumes of speeches delivered at school conven- 
 tions and the like, is it not fair to expect the day 
 when the royal road to science, like the north-west 
 passage, shall have been discovered, and when a 
 complete organization of that thinking pulp which 
 we call the brain, shall be produced by steam ? 
 
 Such meditations as these are not uncommon, 
 but they are often driven clean out of my mind 
 when I hear uncle Benjamin discourse about the 
 times when he was a boy. Perhaps it was be- 
 cause he had just been insulted in the street, by a 
 couple of scape-graces, who, with the insubordinate 
 spirit which marks our day, had scoffed at his 
 lameness, that the old man 'appeared somewhat 
 ruffled during our last interview. He had seated 
 himself by an old-fashioned Franklin stove, for 
 he cannot endure coal, and with his feet upon the 
 fender, was enjoying the soothing odours of his 
 pipe. The very sight of him brought before my 
 mind's eye the period before the Revolution. 
 Here was the remnant of a robust frame and a 
 vigorous understanding. Here was one remaining 
 link to bind us to the old colonial times. Like 
 many of the aged, he loves to discourse ; and who 
 has a better right ?
 
 52 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 "Ah," said he, archly shaking a shrivelled 
 finger at his grandsons, " if you had been schooled 
 in my day, you would have had other jobs for your 
 winter evenings than playing that idle game of 
 backgammon which I see you at." " How so, 
 grandfather?" said Joseph, as he emptied his box 
 and cried "cinq-ace" "I'll tell you, boys. 
 Learning was something to be scrambled for in 
 those days. The schoolmaster was second only 
 to the minister, and used to wear his hair in a 
 bag. He went the rounds among the farmer's 
 houses, in a large circuit, and some of the boys 
 used to trudge their four and five miles to school. 
 As it was not every young collegian who could 
 set up a school, the business of teaching was 
 worth something. We did not, it is true, pay a 
 great deal in hard money, but taking into the 
 account firewood, clothing, board, and produce, 
 we used to make the schoolmaster quite com- 
 fortable." 
 
 " I suppose, grandfather, they used to whip, in 
 those days ?" " You may well say so, Joseph ; 
 you may well say so. The teacher was not 
 ashamed to be named Master, and we were not 
 ashamed to call him so. Master he was, and it 
 took a sturdy fellow to handle a set of resolute 
 young cubs, who sometimes turned upon him and 
 shut him out of his castle. Hard blows used to 
 fall thick ; and they made men of us. If you 
 want to become a young Lord Betty, or, as the 
 Indians say, turn squaw,' enter yourself at one
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 53 
 
 of these schools where the discipline is so parental, 
 that the lads are made to believe a buffet or a box 
 on the ear would ruin them. No, no ! We had 
 our full share of correction ; and though we used 
 to vow that we would take ample reprisals when 
 we should get big enough, yet we never fulfilled 
 the obligation. But every thing is on a new plan. 
 I do not see anybody that can write a fair, round, 
 copy-hand, such as we used to practise, having 
 our knuckles well rapped if there was a single 
 pot-hook awry. The teachers can't do it them- 
 selves, and they therefore cry ' sour-grapes,' and 
 set copies in three-cornered letters like a girl's 
 verses in a Valentine. The good old ciphering- 
 books have gone out : they used to teach us 
 figures, penmanship, and book-keeping, all at once. 
 Then you seem to me to have some new-fangled 
 school-book every month, and a new teacher almost 
 every quarter. The cry is for cheap education 
 low-priced teachers ; and your children fare ac- 
 cordingly. You have more wit than to do so with 
 other things. You do not look out so carefully 
 for the lowest-priced horse or bullock." 
 
 Thus the old man ran on. With due allow- 
 ance for the predilections of age, there was enough 
 of truth and reason in his complaints to make me 
 pause and consider. The stream of knowledge is 
 daily more diffused : I wish I were as sure that 
 it is deeper. Often, in talking with old men, I 
 am impressed with this truth, that while they 
 know less about many things than we of the pre- 
 5*
 
 34 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 sent race, they know better what they had learned. 
 If there was less compass in their knowledge, 
 there was more weight. Confinement to a few 
 books made them perfect in those few. You could 
 not puzzle uncle Benjamin in the Spectator, or 
 the Freeholder, or the poems of Pope ; but he 
 never heard of Shelley, or Bulwer, or Willis, and 
 my friend Appletree tells me it is much the same 
 in the learned languages. He contends, through 
 thick and thin, that we have no scholars to match 
 the old-school fellows of silver-buckles and hair- 
 powder, and that since small-clothes went out, 
 there has not been a teacher who could parse his 
 boys in Latin. He even doubts whether our pro- 
 fessors of language could all of them make a good 
 off-hand Latin speech ; and as to Latin verses, 
 which used to be so common, they are as obsolete 
 as horn-books and thumb-papers. He further 
 avers, though I would not be held responsible for 
 the assertion, that the men of '76 wrote purer, 
 stronger, racier English than the men of this day ; 
 and that John Hancock, John Adams, Josiah 
 Quincy, and George Washington, handled an 
 easier, simpler, and manlier style, than Mr. Wise, 
 Mr. John Quincy Adams, or Mr. Van Buren. 
 But this, I dare say, was told me in confidence.
 
 EARLY READING. 55 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE LASTING IMPRESSION OP EARLY READING. 
 
 " But she, who set on fire his infant heart, 
 
 And all his dreams and all his wanderings shared, 
 And bless'd, the Muse" and her celestial art, 
 
 Still claim th' enthusiast's fond and first regard." 
 
 BEATTIE. 
 
 IN the family of a working-man, where books 
 cannot in all cases be very numerous, it is par- 
 ticularly desirable that those which fall in the way 
 of the young people should be of the right sort ; 
 and this is to be managed not so much by rules 
 and restrictions, as by a care in the filling of the 
 shelves. If the latter have seductive books, they 
 will be sought after by the children, even though 
 you should open before their eyes the most sacred 
 homilies, or preach yourself hoarse in decrying 
 naughty novels and song-books. This becomes 
 more important, when we call to mind that the 
 whole course of a man's reading is often deter- 
 mined by the books which he happens to enjoy 
 in his boyhood. Robinson Crusoe has made many 
 a sailor; Spenser's Faery Queen made Pope a 
 versifier ; Xenophon's Memorabilia made Frank- 
 lin a disputant ; and if I might be allowed to play
 
 56 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 the egotist in a harmless way, I would add that 
 the liking of which I am conscious for the old- 
 fashioned English literature is owing to the con- 
 tents of a single shelf in the house in which I 
 spent my boyhood. That shelf contained the 
 essays commonly known as the British Classics. 
 I perfectly remember the eagerness with which I 
 used to clamber up the edge of the book-cases, to 
 reach these tempting works. At first my object 
 was to look at the pictures, of which there were 
 two or three in each of the thirty-nine volumes. 
 But soon I was allured to do more ; and while 
 yet quite a little boy, was as familiar with the 
 more light and humorous parts of Addison, Steele, 
 Goldsmith, and Mackenzie, as I have since been 
 with any other productions. And though books 
 for children were fewer then than they are now, 
 I am satisfied that the daily converse of a child 
 with such works as the Spectator, the Guardian, 
 and the Connoisseur, even if he finds many 
 things above his apprehension, is more profit- 
 able and far more delightful than the perpetual 
 dawdling over penny-volumes, written on the plan 
 of making every thing level to the meanest capa- 
 city. These first tastes of good letters diffuse 
 their savour through a lifetime. Hence it must 
 be clear to every parent, that he cannot be too 
 careful in the choice of books ; meaning not merely 
 such as are given to his children as their own, 
 but such also as form a part of the family stock. 
 When I try to gather up the broken recollec-
 
 EARLY READING. 57 
 
 tions of early days, and ask what pieces of reading 
 have left the most abiding impressions upon my 
 mind, I discern at once that it has been that class 
 which met my attention casually : not my school- 
 books, not the works spread before me by my 
 sage advisers, but effusions, gay or grave, which I 
 hastily devoured by forbidden snatches. At an 
 early age I fell upon the Life of Benjamin Frank- 
 lin, as written by himself: a book which I shall 
 always cite as an illustration of one of my favour- 
 ite maxims, that truth is more interesting than 
 fiction. The essays appended to the volume en- 
 gaged my attention ; and I was not content to read 
 merely what I could understand, but dived boldly 
 into some of the profundities of his politics and 
 his philosophy. The Way to Wealth, Poor 
 Richard, and The Whistle, are perhaps as familiar 
 to the minds of the American people, as any human 
 productions : I may therefore cite them as remark- 
 able instances of lasting impression. I wish my 
 admiration of Benjamin Franklin were not min- 
 gled with anxiety as to the probable influence 
 which one or two of these pieces, and the general 
 tone of his economical writings, have had upon 
 the national way of thinking. The maxims of 
 Poor Richard are undeniable ; and if the great end 
 of man were to make money, they might be 
 adopted as a sort of pecuniary gospel. But I fear 
 that the boy who is bred upon such diet as " If 
 you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as 
 getting ;" or " Six pounds a year is but a groat a
 
 58 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 day;" or " He that murders a crown destroys all 
 it might have produced ;" or "A penny saved is 
 twopence clear" or any the like adages, will be 
 not merely rich, but miserly. I am so little of a 
 utilitarian, that I do not believe wealth to be the 
 chief good, or frugality the cardinal virtue ; and 
 most heartily do I regret that such an authority 
 as Franklin should have erected for us such a 
 tutelary saint as Poor Richard. 
 
 Be this, however, as it may, my position holds 
 true ; the whole colour of our life, both mental 
 and moral, is frequently taken from what we read 
 during childhood ; and I am here reminded that 
 this very philosopher is an instance in point. A 
 very little book, exceedingly prized in old-time 
 families, seems to have had great effects on his 
 mind. In a letter written from France, in 1784, 
 Franklin thus addresses Dr. Mather of Boston : 
 " When I was a boy, I met with a book, entitled, 
 Essays to do good, which I think was written 
 by your father. It had been so little regarded by 
 a former possessor, that several leaves of it were 
 torn out ; but the remainder gave me such a turn 
 of thinking, as to have an influence on my con- 
 duct through life ; for I have always set a greater 
 value on the character of a doer of good, than 
 on any other kind of reputation ; and if I have 
 been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the 
 public owes the advantage of it to that book."* 
 These are notable words. Let them have their 
 From the American Museum, vol. vii. p. 100 

 
 EARLY READING. 59 
 
 due weight with the young. They were uttered 
 by Dr. Franklin when he was in his seventy- 
 ninth year : they were therefore not the fruit of 
 sudden excitement. Their import is, that if he 
 had been useful, it was owing to a torn book read 
 in his boyhood. I hope the republication of this 
 remark will not only have the effect of leading 
 every one who reads it to procure this work of 
 the famous Cotton Mather, but will induce some 
 publisher to give it to us in a shape more elegant 
 and better suited to the reigning taste, than that 
 in which it has hitherto appeared. " Such writ- 
 ings," says Franklin, of a similar production, 
 " though they may be lightly passed over by 
 many readers, yet if they make a deep impression 
 on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may 
 be considerable." 
 
 When the artisan, or the farmer, or the trades 
 man is making up a collection of books, he ought 
 to bear in mind that a well-kept book will last a 
 lifetime. Some of the soundest books I have 
 were owned by my grandfather. It is great im- 
 providence to fill our houses with trash. Ten 
 dollars, wisely expended, will, at an auction or 
 book-shop, furnish you with fine old copies, in 
 sheep or even calf, of Milton, Young, Thomson, 
 Pope, the Spectator, the Rambler, Boswell's John- 
 son, Plutarch's Lives, Josephus, with quite a 
 sprinkling of later and lighter productions. And 
 this will be a source of endless entertainment 
 during the winter evenings.* 
 
 * See the American Mechanic, p. 267.
 
 60 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 X. 
 
 READING FOR BEGINNERS. 
 
 " Only, good master, while we do admire 
 Thy virtue, and thy moral discipline, 
 Let's be no Stoics, nor no stocks, I pray." f 
 Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 RULES are good things, but one may have too 
 much of them ; and overmuch legislation is a 
 snare and a burden. Some of my friends, know- 
 ing me to be a bookish man, acquainted with a 
 number of the old English authors, have again 
 and again begged me to lay down for them, in 
 black and white, a course of reading, which they 
 might use themselves, and give to their young 
 folks. This I have always resisted, partly because 
 I have a dread of running all minds through the 
 same flatting-mill, and partly, perhaps, because 
 whatever little attainments I have myself made, 
 have come to me, not by regulations, but in spite 
 of them. I am half, disposed to think this is 
 nature's own way. Men and families that have 
 been held down to as rigid a uniformity as a Bri- 
 tish garrison, whose regimental order is absolute, 
 even to gaiter, moustache, and pipe-clay, always 
 have, in my eye, a cramp look. They have
 
 READING FOR BEGINNERS. 61 
 
 grown like fruit trees nailed to a garden wall, or 
 box-wood in the old-fashioned tin moulds. Even 
 in the fine arts, the pupil may be kept too long in 
 the dull formalities of the drawing-school. The 
 port-crayon need not be always in hand. As I 
 was lately in a very interesting conversation, in a 
 railroad car, with an eminent artist of Philadelphia, 
 he related to me a pointed saying of our great Gil- 
 bert Stuart, dropped by the latter when he was 
 painting in London ; " If young men are ever to 
 learn," said he, "it must be spontaneously. You 
 must teach them to draw, as young puppies are 
 taught to swim ; chuck them in, and let them take 
 their chance." It is somewhat so in letters ; at 
 least it has been so with the most successful. 
 Pray, what list of authors had Franklin, Murray, 
 or Gifford ? 
 
 When I remember my boyhood, I am rapt into 
 a little fairy -land. O how full of rules were my 
 compulsory pursuits ! O how free as air my read- 
 ing ! The dear old books in which I used to pore, 
 without direction, nay, against direction how do 
 they rise before my memory, like ghosts of be- 
 loved friends ! Their very looks are before me ; 
 I see their very "form and pressure." Nay, 
 smile not, reader, the odours of ancient volumes, 
 perused by me long, long ago, are in my mind's 
 nostril this blessed night. There is Sanford and 
 Merton the very first " big book" I can call to 
 mind ; it was given to me by my father ; I did 
 not so much read it, as gloat over it. To this day 
 6
 
 62 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 I cannot explain the charms of that volume ; but 
 who ever read it uncharmed ? " Robinson Crusoe !" 
 I need not tell an experience which is that of all 
 the world. " The Thousand and One Nights" 
 It was somewhat a stolen enjoyment; but not less 
 precious for that ; and it opened an orient world, 
 into which, on the mere strength of boyish fancies 
 recollected and embalmed, it would have taken 
 little at certain times to transport me bodily, as 
 those incomparable fictions did in spirit. " The 
 Pilgrim's Progress" There were two things 
 about this immortal story which made it dearer 
 to me than all the rest ; first, it carried with it a 
 pleasing yet fearful shuddering as before high re- 
 ligious mystery ; and, secondly, it was a prolonged 
 enigma, and he is no child who loves not a riddle. 
 In later days, the same work has commended 
 itself to my riper judgment, by its solid sense, its 
 holy unction, its lordly imaginings, its epic con- 
 duct, and its " English pure and undefiled" my 
 mother tongue the dialect, not of the college or 
 of books, but of the market, the shop, and the 
 hall. I hope earnestly, that while they are ham- 
 mering out for us a new language, to be called 
 American-English, and new-vamping the ortho- 
 graphy of all the old writers in order that the 
 books printed on the two sides of the water may 
 be as unlike as possible ^1 hope they will leave 
 a little of the racy idiomatic speech of the old 
 counlry still incorrupt, in such books as the Pil- 
 grim's Progress.
 
 READING FOR BEGINNERS. G3 
 
 Set a boy to read a large book through, for a 
 task, and you kill the book's influence on him. 
 But spread works before him, and let a little child- 
 ish caprice govern his choice, and he will learn 
 rapidly. It is not instruction merely that the 
 young scholar wants ; here is a great mistake ; 
 no, it is excitement. Excitement is that which 
 drives his soul on, as really as steam does the 
 engine. But then you must keep him on the 
 track. And the same thing holds in self-culture. 
 Somebody has said that every well-educated man 
 is self-educated ; and he said not amiss. Even in 
 universities the mind is its own great cultivator. 
 Do for yourself, young reader, so far as you know 
 how, what there is perhaps no kind friend or 
 teacher to do for you. It may be, while you read 
 this page, in your shop or garret, or by the dull 
 light beside some greasy counter, that you would 
 gladly have a lift above your present low pursuits, 
 into the world of knowledge. O that I were near 
 you, to give you such aid as I have ; but in lieu 
 of this take a friend's advice. My good fellow, 
 write down that wish. I say, write it down. 
 Go now and take a fair piece of paper, record 
 your determination to get knowledge. My word 
 for it all experience for it you will not be dis 
 appointed. There are, probably, not many books 
 at your command, but no matter. Many wealthy 
 young men, amidst thousands of volumes, pine 
 away in listless ignorance. Sometimes we read 
 with a double zest such things as we have to
 
 64 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 enjoy by stealth after hours of work, or before 
 day. What is thus read sticks fast. 
 
 The deep impressions made by one's first read- 
 ing are so delightful, that we are glad to renew 
 them. It is like a first love. When the Bible 
 opens before me at the story of Joseph, or the 
 Prodigal Son, I am all at once arrested my 
 thoughts go back to childhood a thousand pe- 
 rusals since have not dispossessed the first ima- 
 ginations. They throng before my mental vision 
 all the images of that dreamy time all the tender 
 cares all the little innocent misapprehensions. 
 What an unbought pleasure is here ! Give me 
 therefore my small shelf of books, in order that 
 each one may be the centre of such remembrances. 
 Let others throng the circulating libraries, and 
 take the mingled alcohol and opium of the leche- 
 rous and envious Byron, the puling and blasphe- 
 mous Shelley, the seducing Bulwer; give me my 
 Bible, my Milton, my Cowper, my Bunyan, my 
 shelf of histories, my shelf of biography, and my 
 shelf of travels, and I will have more " thick 
 coming fancies" in an hour than they in a day. 
 
 I wish you could be persuaded to let your 
 young people run a little out of harness. A horse 
 always in shafts learns to stumble. You would 
 not send your boy or your girl into the orchard to 
 eat apples and pears by a list of particulars ; no, 
 give them the key, and let them pick and choose.
 
 READING FOR ENTERTAINMENT. 65 
 
 XL 
 
 READING FOR ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 " Our kind relief against a rainy day, 
 We take our book, and laugh our spleen away." 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 THE man whose days are spent in labour does 
 not need so great a proportion of light reading, as 
 the professional man or the student. Nor need 
 this paradox startle any one. As it is true that 
 the lawyer or the bank-clerk does not need, when 
 evening comes, to rest his limbs, for the very 
 plain reason, that he has not been exerting them, 
 and that they are not weary ; so it is equally true, 
 that the wheelwright or the turner does not need 
 to relax his reasoning powers, because he has not 
 been putting them to task. The jaded body of 
 the workman claims its repose, the jaded mind 
 of the scholar claims its repose ; but the tired la- 
 bourer may rest his limbs while he studies mathe- 
 matics, just as the exhausted student may refresh 
 his spirit while he saws wood. 
 
 I have long thought that ignorance or oversight 
 
 of this truth, has been a great stumblingblock in 
 
 the way of the improvement of the industrious 
 
 classes. The flood of cheap novels and other 
 
 6*
 
 <J6 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 literary syllabubs is so exuberant, that, like the 
 Nile in an overflow, it conies up to every man's 
 door. Those who least need relaxation of mind, 
 because they have been engaged in no mental 
 effort, are the principal patrons of this sort of 
 literature. I have no doubt that most of the 
 romances of our circulating libraries are worn out 
 in the hands of working-men and women. If 
 their taste had not been perverted, they would be 
 quite as much entertained with a book of science, 
 or an instructive history, as by the frivolous story; 
 but forgetting this, or having never known it, they 
 go on year after year, until their minds lose all 
 vigour, just as completely as their stomachs would 
 have lost tone, if for a like period they had been 
 fed upon nothing but pastries, ices, and con- 
 fections. 
 
 The demand for this merely entertaining lite- 
 rature is evinced by the character of the large 
 weekly newspapers, and low-priced magazines, 
 which circulate most among operatives. I need 
 not name these ; our cities abound in them. The 
 newspapers to which I allude are commonly 
 issued on Saturday, and their immense sheet gives 
 occupation to many a poor reader for the whole 
 of Sunday. Now you will observe, that a large 
 part of the outer form of these publications is fre- 
 quently taken up with just that kind of reading 
 which is fitted to make a sound mind sick, and a 
 feeble mind crazy. Tales upon tales of love, of 
 horror, of madness, and these often the effusions
 
 READING FOR ENTERTAINMENT. 67 
 
 of the most unpractised and contemptible scrib- 
 blers, who rejoice in this channel for venting their 
 inanities, succeed one another week after week, 
 and are the chief reading of persons whpm I could 
 name, for year after year. If a man is bent upon 
 novel-reading, in the name of common reason, let 
 him go to what is worth reading let him sate his 
 mind with Scott, and Edge worth, and Ferriar, 
 and Ward ; but let him not expose so delicate a 
 thing as an undisciplined mind to the everlasting 
 wash and ooze of such slops as these. 
 
 By such a course of reading the mind gets a 
 surfeit: the appetite sickens, and so dies. Let 
 this become general, let it become the taste of the 
 country, and it will be here as it is in France. 
 The palled interest must be awakened by more 
 pungent condiments ; and as old snuff-takers some- 
 times mingle cayenne in their pinch, the jaded 
 novel readers will have recourse to the double- 
 distilled horror and obscenity of the Parisian 
 romance. Symptoms of this condition of things 
 are already apparent, and it is this which makes 
 me the more earnest in directing my young 
 readers to a better and safer kind of entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 " Habits of close attention, thinking heads, 
 Become more rare as dissipation spreads, 
 Till authors hear at length one general cry 
 Tickle and entertain us, or we die. 
 The loud demand, from year to year the same, 
 Beggars invention, and makes fancy lame ;
 
 68 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 Till farce itself, most mournfully jejune, 
 Calls for the kind assistance of a tune ; 
 And novels (witness every month's review) 
 Belie their name, and offer nothing new."* 
 
 Some years ago, it was frequently necessary 
 for me to make journeys of some hundreds of 
 miles in length. In taverns, and especially in 
 steamboats, I found myself constantly in need of 
 some reading which should be a relief from the 
 prevalent listlessness. Like everybody else, I 
 supplied myself with what is called light reading, 
 namely, the latest tales, romances, annuals, maga- 
 zines, and verses ; and, like everybody else, I 
 found myself perpetually laying down the volume 
 in a paroxysm of insufferable ennui. Why thus ? 
 I could not but ask. Such reading has often 
 relieved me after a day of hard study. Upon 
 consideration, I was led to believe, that a diet of 
 this kind is no more fit for a mind in active health, 
 than water-gruel for a man-of-war' s-man. If you 
 set out with the purpose of being amused for seve- 
 ral days together, the project will certainly fall 
 through. When the edge is on the intellect un- 
 abated, it cannot be safely used upon such small 
 matters. I was induced therefore on one occa- 
 sion, as a desperate experiment, to take with me 
 on a long journey a book on a philosophical sub- 
 ject in which I was interested, and which, I was 
 sure, would task my powers to the utmost ; and 
 whether I am credited or not, I must declare the 
 Cowper.
 
 READING FOR ENTERTAINMENT. 6& 
 
 truth, I never found such a resource against the 
 listlessness and weariness of a voyage, as in that 
 difficult volume. Long after my own discovery, 
 I met with the advice of Johnson : " If you are 
 to have but one book with you on a journey, let 
 it be a book of science. When you have read 
 through a book of entertainment, you know it, 
 and it can do no more for you ; but a book of 
 science is inexhaustible." The practical use I 
 make of such truths is this : I would have all men 
 who spend their principal hours in labour, to seek 
 their mental relaxation in books of a higher order 
 than those which promise mere amusement. At 
 any rate, begin with the more solid, and make the 
 trifling ones a last resort. 
 
 Not that I would by any means debar the young 
 reader from works of gayety and humour ; still 
 less would I lock out pleasing narratives, whether 
 histories or voyages and travels. These last afford 
 perhaps the most healthful relaxation of which a 
 wearied mind is capable. But let some useful 
 knowledge always be the object of pursuit. Even 
 if you seek the merest entertainment, you will find 
 this the true policy. The nobler the game, the 
 greater the enthusiasm of the hunter ; although 
 every shot be the same, yet the sportsman will 
 not waste powder upon wrens. Make therefore 
 a fair experiment of the quality and amount of 
 pleasure which may be derived from such reading 
 as the following : First, Important History ; as 
 that of Greece and Rome, of England and America.
 
 70 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 Secondly, Biography ; beginning with old Plu- 
 tarch, the favourite of every age, and including 
 the memoirs of the greatest men of our own land. 
 Thirdly, Voyages and Travels, which give the 
 best knowledge of geography, in all its extent, 
 and are especially useful in enlarging the views 
 of those persons, who, from their calling in life, 
 cannot see much of the world. Fourthly, Books 
 about Natural Philosophy and Chemistry; par- 
 ticularly those which suggest many easy experi- 
 ments. Fifthly, Books of Natural History; 
 some branch of which you may so far pursue as 
 to make collections. Sixthly, Poetry; the 
 choicest works of the great masters. And if in 
 no one of these six chambers of knowledge you 
 find entertainment, I must turn you over to the 
 incurable ward of novel-reading spinsters and 
 peevish newsmongers.
 
 IN SEARCH OF KNOWLEDGE. 71 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN SEARCH OP KNOW- 
 LEDGE. 
 
 " In dreams, in study, and in ardent thought, 
 Thus was he rear'd ; much wanting to assist 
 The growth of intellect, yet gaining more, 
 And every moral feeling of his soul 
 Strengthen'd and braced, by breathing in content 
 The keen, the wholesome air of poverty, 
 And drinking from the well of homely life." 
 
 The Excursion. 
 
 ALTHOUGH I have said so much in another 
 place about the ways and means of gaining know- 
 ledge amidst the greatest difficulties, I cannot 
 refrain from touching once more upon this favour- 
 ite topic.* For those who have at heart the 
 mental improvement of working-men, ought con- 
 stantly to keep before their minds the truth, that 
 there is nothing in their situation which need 
 debar them from the attainment of even eminence 
 in literature and science. Most of our young 
 men, however, sit down in a sort of stupor or 
 despondency, as if they said to themselves, 
 " Others may deal with books ; but we, who must 
 
 * See a great number of instances in the American Me- 
 chanic, pp. 161 275.
 
 72 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 work for a living, have no time for such enter- 
 tainments." There are a great many in whom 
 the desire of knowledge has never yet been 
 awakened. There are the two Riddles, twin- 
 brothers, working at the same trade ; I see those 
 young men almost daily, and perceive in their 
 countenances and discourse every sign of intelli- 
 gence ; yet I dare say they no more think of 
 making any advances in learning, than of becom- 
 ing governors of states. Yet half an hour a day, 
 properly bestowed, would make them men of valu- 
 able information in every common branch of science. 
 If I should urge John Crispin to apply himself 
 to books, he would perhaps drop his lapstone 
 and hammer, and exclaim, " What ! a shoemaker 
 get learning !" Yes ; certainly. Why not ? 
 Joseph Pendrell, William Gifford, and Robert 
 Bloomfield were all shoemakers, and all men of 
 learning. Roger Sherman was a shoemaker, and 
 he became first a congress-man and then a judge. 
 He had no education but that of the common- 
 school, and worked at his trade for some time 
 after he was of age. He used to sit at his bench 
 with a book open before him, giving to reading 
 every moment that his eyes could be spared. In 
 later life, men of the most finished education were 
 accustomed to look up to him with reverence. 
 Mr. Macon once said, " Roger Sherman had more 
 common sense than any man I ever knew." Mr. 
 Jefferson once exclaimed, as he pointed to him, 
 " That is Mr. Sherman, of Connecticut, who never
 
 IN SEARCH OP KNOWLEDGE. 73 
 
 said a foolish thing in his life." He was a true 
 Christian, a defender of virtue, and a daily student 
 of the Bible. 
 
 In like manner, my friend Shem Blue, the car- 
 penter, would stare if I should hint to him the 
 possibility of mixing a little study with his work. 
 But I could tell him of SAMUEL LEE, one of the 
 greatest linguists now living, who once handled 
 the plane and chisel. He began to learn the car- 
 penter's trade at the age of twelve, and was seven- 
 teen before he ever thought of foreign tongues. 
 He began with the Latin, in order to understand 
 the quotations in English books. By dint of 
 saving and pinching himself, he would buy volume 
 after volume at book-stalls, and, reading at night, 
 went on till he had gained some knowledge of 
 Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and Syriac. His learn- 
 ing brought him into notice ; he became a school- 
 master, and at length a clergyman and professor. 
 Now I do not advise our young carpenters to study 
 the dead languages, unless they feel an irresistible 
 bent towards them ; but I press on them this in- 
 stance to show, that a little self-denial and perse- 
 verance will enable them to lay in a great stock 
 of useful knowledge, such as may fit them for the 
 most intelligent society ; and perhaps raise them 
 to high office. A leading journal of New York 
 informs us that but a few years ago JOSEPH RIT- 
 NER, late governor of Pennsylvania, cracked his 
 whip and whistled to his six horse team as briskly 
 as any other wagoner who crossed the Alleghanies 
 7
 
 74 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 THOMAS EWING, a most distinguished senator, was 
 once known chiefly as an athletic woodsman. 
 But there is perhaps no instance of successful 
 study, in the midst of labour, which is more en- 
 couraging than that of the blacksmith whose his- 
 tory has been given to the public through his own 
 letter to Governor Everett of Massachusetts. This 
 sketch should not be confined to the newspapers. 
 
 "I was the youngest," says the writer, "of 
 many brethren, and my parents were poor. My 
 means of education were limited to the advantages 
 of a district school, and those again were circum- 
 scribed by my father's death, which deprived me, 
 at the age of fifteen, of those scanty opportunities 
 which I had previously enjoyed. A few months 
 after his decease, I apprenticed myself to a black- 
 smith in my native village. Thither I carried an 
 indomitable taste for reading, which I had pre- 
 viously acquired through the medium of the society 
 library ; all the historical works in which I had at 
 that time perused. At the expiration of a little 
 more than half my apprenticeship, I suddenly 
 conceived the idea of studying Latin. Through 
 the assistance of my elder brother, who had him- 
 self obtained a collegiate education by his own 
 exertions, I completed my Virgil during the even- 
 ings of one winter. After some time devoted to 
 Cicero and a few other Latin authors, I com- 
 menced the Greek. At this time it was necessary 
 that I should devote every hour of daylight and a 
 part of the evening to the duties of my apprentice-
 
 IN SEARCH OP KNOWLEDGE. 75 
 
 ship. Still I carried my Greek grammar in my 
 hat, and often found a moment, when I was heat- 
 ing some large iron, when I could place my book 
 , open before me against the chimney of my forge, 
 and go through with tupto, tupteis, tuptei, unper- 
 ceived by my fellow-apprentices, and, to my con- 
 fusion of face, with a detrimental effect to the 
 charge in my fire. At evening, I sat down un- 
 assisted and alone to the Iliad of Homer, twenty 
 books of which measured my progress in that 
 language during the evenings of another winter. 
 I next turned to the modern languages, and was 
 much gratified to learn that my knowledge of the 
 Latin furnished me with a key to the literature of 
 most of the languages of Europe. 
 
 " This circumstance gave a new impulse to the 
 desire of acquainting myself with the philosophy, 
 derivation, and affinity of the different European 
 tongues. I could not be reconciled to limit my- 
 self in these investigations to a few hours after 
 the arduous labours of the day. I therefore laid 
 down my hammer and went to New Haven, where 
 I recited to native teachers in French, Spanish, 
 German, and Italian. I returned at the expiration 
 of two years to the forge, bringing with me such 
 books in those languages as I could procure. 
 When I had read these books through, I com- 
 menced the Hebrew with an awakened desire of 
 examining another field ; and by assiduous appli- 
 cation I was enabled in a few weeks to read this 
 language with such facility, that I allotted it to 
 myself as a task, to read two chapters in the
 
 76 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 Hebrew Bible before breakfast each morning ; this 
 and an hour at noon being all the time that I could 
 devote to myself during the day. After becoming 
 somewhat familiar with this language, I looked 
 around me for the means of initiating myself into 
 the fields of oriental literature, and, to my deep 
 regret and concern, I found my progress in this 
 direction hedged up by the want of requisite 
 books. I immediately began to devise means of 
 obviating this obstacle ; and, after many plans, I 
 concluded to seek a place as a sailor on board 
 some ship bound to Europe, thinking in this way 
 to have opportunities of collecting at different 
 ports such works in the modern and oriental lan- 
 guages as I found necessary for this object. I 
 left the forge and my native place to carry this 
 plan into execution. I travelled on foot to Boston, 
 a distance of more than a hundred miles, to find 
 some vessel bound to Europe. In this I was dis- 
 appointed, and while revolving in my mind what 
 steps to take, accidentally heard of the American 
 Antiquarian Society in Worcester. I immediately 
 bent my steps towards this place. I visited the 
 hall of the American Antiquarian Society, and 
 found here, to my infinite gratification, such a 
 collection of ancient, modern, and oriental lan- 
 guages as I never before conceived to be collected 
 in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine with 
 what sentiments of gratitude I was affected, when, 
 upon evincing a desire to examine some of these 
 rich and rare works, I was kindly invited to an 
 unlimited participation in all the benefits of this
 
 IN SEARCH OF KNOWLEDGE. 77 
 
 noble institution. Availing myself of the kindness 
 of the directors, I spent about three hours daily at 
 the hall, which, with an hour at noon, and about 
 three in the evening, make up the portion of the 
 day which I appropriate to my studies, the rest 
 being occupied in arduous manual labour. Through 
 the facilities afforded by this institution, I have 
 been able to add so much to my previous acquaint- 
 ance with the ancient, modern, and oriental lan- 
 guages, as to be able to read upwards of fifty of 
 them with more or less facility." 
 
 This, it must be admitted, is an extreme case, 
 and is to be regarded as a prodigy. We cannot 
 expect to see many such blacksmiths, nor do we 
 need them; but the instance proves, as Mr. Everett 
 observed, when he introduced it to the friends of 
 education in Bristol, that the mechanic, the en- 
 gineer, the husbandman, the trader, have quite as 
 much leisure as the average of men in the learned 
 professions. 
 
 Let me close this paper with a remark which 
 may serve as an encouragement to many who late 
 in life begin to regret their neglect of past oppor- 
 tunities. There is such a thing as acquiring wis- 
 dom even without many books, and without great 
 learning. 
 
 " Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, 
 Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; 
 Wisdom in minds attentive to their own."* 
 
 * Cowper. 
 
 7*
 
 78 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 STUDY BY STEALTH. 
 
 " Man's life, sir, being 
 So short, and then the way that leads unto 
 The knowledge of ourselves, so long and tedious, 
 Each minute should be precious." 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 
 
 THE busiest men have some moments which 
 they do not spend upon their regular callings : 
 these are the moments which I have so often urged 
 that they should give to study. Strange as some 
 may think it, these unemployed hours often hang 
 heavily even upon those who have been tasked all 
 day. This is the case with all artisans whose work 
 has dead intermissions ; with many who only 
 labour by daylight, and with the whole race of 
 city clerks. Where dissipation does not come in, 
 the mind will corrode itself, and become worn by 
 melancholy broodings. This might be happily 
 prevented by a little regular study. 
 
 As a remarkable instance of the happy use of 
 time borrowed from sleep, I will give the follow- 
 ing account which I have received from a clergy- 
 man who was well acquainted with the subject of 
 the narrative. 
 
 "In the first settlement of New Virginia, as 
 the great valley west of the Blue Ridge was then
 
 STUDY BY STEALTH. 79 
 
 called, one of the greatest inconveniences ex- 
 perienced was the want of schools. In a certain 
 neighbourhood there was a settler who had re- 
 ceived an excellent English education, and had 
 brought with him a collection of choice books. 
 This farmer agreed, in the long nights of winter, 
 to give gratuitous instruction to as many of the 
 young men of the neighbourhood as would resort 
 to him. The offer was embraced by many, and 
 among these was a modest, retiring youth who 
 was learning the carpenter's trade. The instructor 
 having observed that this youth, whom 1 will 
 designate by his initials S. L., had a thirst for 
 learning and was fond of reading, paid particular 
 attention to him, and not only lent him good books, 
 but gave him good advice as to the best method 
 of redeeming time. S. L. profited by this advice, 
 and being obliged to work hard all day, he adopted 
 the practice of rising before day, and spending 
 two hours in reading, before other people were 
 out of bed. This practice grew into a settled 
 habit, and was uniformly pursued through a long 
 life, except when interrupted by bad health or 
 some other unusual circumstance. By industry 
 and economy the young man acquired not only 
 competence but affluence. His house was dis- 
 tinguished for hospitality and good order. But 
 what surprised all strangers, S. L. had acquired a 
 stock of useful knowledge on almost all practical 
 subjects. There were few valuable books in 
 English, then common, with the contents of which
 
 SO THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 he was not well acquainted. Theology was his 
 favourite pursuit, with all branches of which he 
 had an intimate knowledge. But his reading was 
 extended to all useful subjects. He could con- 
 verse with the divine upon all the nice points of 
 theology ; with the lawyer and politician upon 
 the great principles of natural law ; and with the 
 physician on the structure of the human frame, 
 and the nature and cure of the diseases to which 
 it is liable. While his mind was thus richly 
 stored with useful knowledge, he never made any 
 parade of his learning, nor had a semblance of 
 pedantry ; indeed, he did not assume any supe- 
 riority on this account over his more ignorant 
 neighbours. His judgment was as sound and 
 discriminating as his knowledge was extensive ; 
 and his truth and integrity were never called in 
 question. As a magistrate, as an elder, as an 
 arbitrator, he was held in high esteem ; and as 
 the patron of literary institutions. 
 
 " In his latter years he took occasion to speak 
 in the way of affectionate advice to a descendant 
 of his early instructor, on which occasion he said, 
 ' I feel it to be my duty to use this freedom towards 
 the grandson of one to whom I owe all the little 
 knowledge thai I possess. It was your grand- 
 father's counsel, and his lending me books that 
 first put me in the way of reading and acquiring 
 useful knowledge ; and therefore I cannot but 
 feel interested in the temporal and spiritual wel- 
 fare of his offspring.' "
 
 STUDY BY STEALTH. 81 
 
 Dr. Johnson used to relate, that he was once 
 applied to by a man who was clerk to a very emi- 
 nent trader, and who was half-crazed with some 
 scrupulosity of conscience. " I asked him," said 
 Johnson, "when he left the counting-house of an 
 evening ? ' At seven o'clock, sir.' ' And when 
 do you go to bed, sir ?' ' At twelve o'clock.' 
 ' Then,' replied I ; ' I have at least learned thus 
 much by my new acquaintance that five hours 
 of the four-and-twenty unemployed are enough 
 for 'a man to go mad in : so I would advise you, 
 sir, to study algebra, if you are not an adept 
 already in it; your head would get less muddy.' "* 
 In correspondence with this, the same great scholar 
 used to advise young people never to be without 
 a book in their pocket, to be read at times when 
 they had nothing else to do. " It has been by 
 that means," said he one day to a boy at Mr. 
 Thrale's, " that all my knowledge has been gained, 
 except what I have picked up by running about 
 the world with my wits ready to observe, and my 
 tongue ready to talk." 
 
 Learn to husband your odd moments. While 
 a companion keeps you out of employment you 
 may gain a new idea. I have been acquainted 
 with a man who committed to memory much 
 valuable matter while he was shaving ; and have 
 known many who were accustomed to read on 
 horseback ; one of these being the late learned 
 and eloquent Dr. Speece of Virginia. Since the 
 * Croker's Boswell : 1781.
 
 32 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 application of steam to spinning, those who attend 
 the mules may read during the intervals. A mule 
 spinner in England told Mr. Tutfnell, that in this 
 manner he had perused several volumes. While 
 dinner waits, one may study a minute, or even 
 write. " I had heard," says Madame de Genlis, 
 " that M. d'Aguesseau had written in a few years 
 four volumes quarto, by employing the fifteen 
 minutes a day which Madame d'Aguesseau occu- 
 pied in arranging her dress before coming down 
 to dinner. I profited by the example. The hour 
 of dinner at the Palais Royal was fixed at two, 
 but the Duchesse de Chartres was never ready for 
 a quarter of an hour later; and when I came down 
 at the appointed time, I was always desired to 
 wait fifteen or twenty minutes. I spent that time 
 in writing in a distinct and small hand a selection 
 of poetry from various authors." Here is a les- 
 son, the benefit of which need not be confined to 
 lords and ladies. In shops, and factories, and 
 sitting-rooms, and nurseries, the same thing may 
 be attempted. Make the most of reading aloud. 
 Where there is a room full of people, one who 
 has leisure may thus instruct a dozen, or a score ; 
 provided the work is not noisy. In country 
 places, or where operations are carried on at 
 home, a little child may instruct the whole family. 
 The wife and daughters may hear as well as sew. 
 Indeed, it needs but little contrivance, in some 
 large families, to have some instruction or enter- 
 tainment going on all the while.
 
 STUDY BY STEALTH. 83 
 
 There are few men who do not undervalue 
 what may be attained drop by drop. But rocks 
 are worn away thus, and fortunes are made thus. 
 Through the little slit in the counter, pence and 
 sixpences fall into the till, which in the end make 
 the tradesman's fortune. Why should not know- 
 ledge be gained in the same way ? That it is not, 
 is generally because it is not sought ; no plan is 
 laid; no effort begun. " It is astonishing," says 
 Sir Walter Scott, " how far even half an hour a 
 day, regularly bestowed on one object, will carry 
 a man in making himself master of it. The habit 
 of dawdling away time is easily acquired, and so 
 is that of putting every moment either to use or 
 amusement." In order to gain the most, the book 
 must be chosen, to prevent all vacillation ; and in 
 the very spot, to prevent all delay. It is well if 
 it be in the pocket, or on the bench, or ready 
 opened at the place in the window-seat. O ! who 
 but those who have experienced it can tell the 
 rapture with whicli knowledge is gathered in 
 these hurried moments ! What is thus read can- 
 not but stick fast. The man who studies thus 
 keeps his mind always on the alert. While the 
 wealthy scholar often lounges away whole after- 
 noons on the sofa of his library, unable to fix 
 upon a topic of study, the poor fellow who hangs 
 over a book-stall, or snatches a moment from his 
 work, is enjoying a paradise of intellectual satis- 
 faction. These are the cheap pleasures which 
 can be caught only under pressure : for there are
 
 84 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 joys peculiar to men in straits. I have cited 
 Johnson : his greatest attainments were made 
 during his greatest poverty. At one time, when 
 he was called upon by a learned friend, he had but 
 one chair in his apartment, and that stood on three 
 legs : he probably enjoyed his books as much as 
 when his library consisted of five thousand volumes. 
 Every child knows the avidity with which he 
 poaches among forbidden books. Little Walter 
 Scott used to creep out of bed and read for several 
 hours by fire-light : no man has done more to lay 
 similar temptations in the way of others. In fine, 
 where there is a will there will be a way; and 
 there is nothing so much to be deplored as the 
 stupid indifference with which many who most 
 need the awakening influence of letters, will re- 
 ceive all my suggestions. Yet, if one in five 
 hundred be helped up a single round of the ladder, 
 I shall be of good cheer still.
 
 THE ART OP DRAWING. 86 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE ART OF DRAWING VALUABLE TO 
 MECHANICS. 
 
 " From hence the rudiments of art began ; 
 A coal, or chalk, first imitated man: 
 Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall, 
 Gave outlines to the rude original." 
 
 DRTDEW. 
 
 MANY persons look upon drawing as a mere 
 accomplishment ; something fitted for the misses 
 of a boarding-school, or the parlour of a travelling 
 dandy. This is a very partial and absurd view 
 of the subject. However the art may be abused, 
 as the sister art of writing also is, it is, in many 
 respects, and to many persons, one of the useful 
 rather than the fine arts. It has been properly 
 said, by Mr. Rembrandt Peale, that writing is 
 nothing else than drawing the forms of letters ; 
 and drawing is little more than writing the forms 
 of objects. 
 
 If proper methods were employed, the art might 
 be very advantageously introduced into the primary 
 instruction of every school. It has a manifest 
 tendency to cultivate the faculty of accurate obser- 
 vation, and there is no trade in which form is 
 concerned, to which it may not contribute in a 
 8
 
 86 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 high degree. The architect and the painter must 
 of course be draftsmen ; but we may add to these 
 every trade which regards decoration. To have 
 freedom and grace in sketching is of value to 
 weavers, upholsterers, paper-hangers, coach-ma- 
 kers and trimmers, calico-printers, silver-platers, 
 turners, and many other classes of artisans which 
 need not now be named. 
 
 Almost a century ago, in 1741, the Bishop of 
 St. Asaph published a sermon upon the then un- 
 popular subject of general education, in which are 
 found the following remarkable suggestions, which 
 it seems to be reserved for our age to carry into 
 execution- " Several gentlemen of great know- 
 ledge in business, true friends to these schools, 
 and prudently desirous to establish a suitable plan 
 of education in them, have yet been of opinion, 
 that if the children were taught, as they might be 
 at small expense, something of the art of draw- 
 ing, it would prove beneficial in several respects. 
 For this they urge the great perfection to which 
 silk manufactures are now advanced in England, 
 so as to equal if not exceed a rival nation in that 
 commodity, except in the figure, and what is 
 called the fancy of a pattern, which this instruc- 
 tion might supply : that in France the very poorest 
 of the children are all taught to draw; that the 
 benefits of that branch of skill are very great, for 
 it not only multiplies persons capable of drawing 
 patterns, and thereby lessens the expense to the 
 manufacturer, but likewise greatly assists in the
 
 THE ART OF DRAWING. 87 
 
 performance of the work itself, as a workman 
 who can himself draw a pattern will finish with 
 greater truth and greater despatch, any given pat- 
 tern, whether drawn by his own or by another 
 hand." The same remarks, with little alteration, 
 might be applied to the work of cabinet-makers, 
 moulders, founders, and especially the makers 
 and decorators of porcelain and other fine ware. 
 
 In 1835, a report was printed by a Select Com- 
 mittee of the House of Commons, on the state of 
 arts as applied to manufactures ; in this a number 
 of statements occur, which confirm the view I am 
 now presenting. As it regards the silk-manufac- 
 ture, Mr. Skene testified that the English work- 
 men copied their patterns almost entirely from 
 the French. As to the uses of design, Mr. Har- 
 rington, an eminent silk-manufacturer, said to the 
 committee : "We would willingly, at the present 
 time, engage a man at a handsome salary, con- 
 versant with the principle of weaving, as a designer, 
 and also to put the pattern upon paper." The im- 
 portance of cultivated taste in drawing, even with 
 respect to iron-manufacture, will appear from the 
 evidence of Mr. Smith, of Sheffield, a partner in 
 a house which expends about six thousand dollars 
 a year in models for stove grates and fenders ; this 
 gentleman declaring that he would not hesitate to 
 spend two or three hundred pounds in a model 
 for a grate, if the pattern were protected. Lei 
 the reader call to mind American stoves, in which 
 a Gothic structure has been supported by four
 
 00 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 claw-feet ! Messrs. Rundell and Bridge, the cele- 
 brated jewellers, employed a person to design for 
 them, to whom they paid more than two thousand 
 dollars a year, and supplied him with a house to 
 live in. Charles Toplis, Esq., a vice-president 
 of the London Mechanics' Institute, gave in evi- 
 dence as his opinion that drawing was of high 
 value to a large portion of inventive artisans. 
 "All works of construction," says he, "require 
 to be preceded by a design on paper, or a propor- 
 tionate delineation, which is often to be done by 
 the workman himself. Workmen in these branches 
 must therefore be necessarily trained to the accu- 
 rate use of drawing-instruments, and their opera- 
 tions are frequently much assisted when they can 
 express their designs by sketches made by the 
 unguided hand. The workmen whose province 
 it is to shape and give form to materials, are greatly 
 aided in their operations when they can delineate 
 the contours of the forms they wish to impart, or 
 can model them in a yielding matter ; and their 
 taste is necessarily improved by studying the 
 selected forms set before them for imitation during 
 the course of their instruction in drawing or mo- 
 delling." Again: " In the porcelain manufacture," 
 says Mr. Toplis, " it is requisite that a painter 
 there should be able to paint landscapes and other 
 natural objects, perhaps to compose pictures ; but 
 at all events he should be able to copy a landscape 
 and other representation accurately." 
 
 The interior decoration of houses, whether by
 
 THE ART OF DRAWING. 89 
 
 means of the builder and joiner, or the painter, 
 paper-hanger, and upholsterer, presents a wide 
 field for the display of taste and genius in the art 
 of design. In the examination before the com- 
 mittee of the House of Commons, Mr. Cockerell, 
 the distinguished architect, explained the opinions 
 of the ancient Greeks on this subject. " We 
 know," said he, " that a stranger who established 
 a new branch of manufacture in Athens obtained 
 the rights of a citizen. Athens and .^Egina were 
 the greatest manufactories of Greece in all works 
 connected with fine arts. The artists of ^Egina 
 had more commissions in all parts of Greece than 
 any other nation. The manufacture of bronzes, 
 especially candelabra, is celebrated by Pliny." 
 Mr. C. H. Smith, a sculptor of architectural orna- 
 ments, stated to the committee, that he always 
 found those workmen who could draw, if ever so 
 little, were more useful to him than those who 
 were totally unable to use a pencil. " I recently," 
 said he, " sent my foreman into Yorkshire with 
 work ; on his arrival, he found difficulties arose 
 which he had not (nor had I) anticipated ; but by 
 letter to me, illustrated by his sketches, he ex- 
 plained all that I could wish for." There are 
 many cases in which an exact draft will enable 
 an architect or workman to ascertain, without cal- 
 culation, the extent and direction of lines which, 
 but for this, would demand the most abstruse 
 investigations of mathematics. I have also been 
 informed by a gentleman much conversant with 
 8*
 
 90 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 such matters, that in cases where there is doubt 
 as to the strength of materials or other qualities 
 of large engines, manufacturers find great advan- 
 tage in making a draught of the size of nature, 
 from the inspection of which they can form con- 
 jectures approaching to absolute accuracy. It is 
 believed that our great Fulton, in his long train 
 of experiments, received incalculable aid from his 
 expertness in the art of design ; for he was not 
 merely a draughtsman, but a master of painting 
 and perspective. 
 
 It is stated by Mr. Guillotte, a maker of the 
 Jacquard looms, that art is much cheaper in France 
 than in England; of course far cheaper than in 
 America. A French capitalist employs three or 
 four artists, where in England one artist would 
 supply eight or ten manufacturers. Thus, in 
 England, the designer of the pattern and he who 
 transfers it to the manufacture are distinct persons ; 
 in France, the workman is himself the artist. 
 "The French," says Mr. Cockerell, "have long 
 been celebrated for their attention to design in 
 manufactures. Their zeal in this pursuit is no- 
 where more manifest than in their recent prosecu- 
 tion of the shawl trade in the introduction both 
 of the material and pattern of the Cachemire shawl 
 by M. Fernaux, and in the later investigations of 
 M. Couder. M. Couder has established a school 
 for shawl designs at Paris." 
 
 In Prussia, the national system includes instruc- 
 tion in the principles of art. There are four
 
 THE ART OF DRAWING. 91 
 
 schools of design, at Breslau, Kcenigsberg, Dant- 
 zic, and Cologne. Professor Beuth, the director 
 of the Trade Institution at Berlin, several years 
 ago published a work at the expense of the govern- 
 ment, with copperplate engravings of models from 
 the ancients and the middle ages, for the use of 
 the pupils. " It is stated," says the committee 
 above named, " that the influence of Prof. Beuth's 
 publication is already perceptible in the shops and 
 dwelling-houses at Berlin." Drawing is taught in 
 every school in Bavaria. At Bruges, gratuitous 
 instruction in drawing is given to six or seven 
 hundred young men, and prizes are awarded 
 annually ; something of the same kind is observed 
 at Antwerp. Besides this encouragement, it may 
 be mentioned that in England cotton-prints are 
 protected for three months. In France, when a 
 boy draws well, and shows genius, he is in great 
 demand among the leading houses, and is often 
 fortunate enough to be taken as a partner. 
 
 Many facts might be stated, which would show 
 that far more attention is paid to this useful art in 
 France and Switzerland than among ourselves. 
 Among these a striking one is extracted from M. 
 Simond's Switzerland. " M. de Candolle, Pro- 
 fessor of Botany at Geneva, but whose reputation 
 is European, made use, in a course of lectures, of 
 a very valuable collection of drawings of American 
 plants, intnisted to him by a celebrated Spanish 
 botanist, who having occasion for this collection 
 sooner than was expected, sent for it back again.
 
 92 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 M. de Candolle, having communicated the circum- 
 stance to his audience, with the expression of his 
 regrets, some ladies who attended the lectures 
 offered to copy, with the aid of some of their 
 friends, the whole collection in a week; and the 
 task was actually performed. The drawings, 
 eight hundred and sixty in number, and filling 
 thirteen folio volumes, were executed by one hun- 
 dred and fourteen female artists ; one of the ladies 
 indeed did forty of them. In most cases, the 
 principal parts only of each plant are coloured, 
 the rest only traced with accuracy : the execution 
 in general very good, and in some instances quite 
 masterly. There is not, perhaps, another town 
 of twenty-three thousand souls, where such a 
 number of female artists, the greater part of course 
 amateurs, could be found." The instance is in 
 point to show how easily and how widely a degree 
 of skill in this art may be diffused. That which 
 is learned by so many may be easily learned. 
 
 I hope some readers of these hints will be led 
 forthwith to furnish themselves with drawing ma- 
 terials. The extensive class of house-painters 
 contains many who might rise to great eminence. 
 Let me address them in the language of one of 
 their own craft, Mr. D. R. Hay of Edinburgh. 
 He was asked by the committee, " What do you 
 consider the best line of study for persons intended 
 for a profession like your own, or best adapted to 
 improve the taste of the working-class generally?" 
 He replied; "It is in the first place to initiate
 
 THE AET OF DRAWING. 93 
 
 them in the drawing of large symmetrical figures 
 by the hand." Symmetrical figures are such as 
 squares, ovals, and circles. They should then 
 practise undulations and volutes. Their attention 
 should then be directed to the vegetable kingdom, 
 and they should begin their practice by studying 
 from large well-developed leaves. All the common 
 woods, that grow in such profusion by our hedge- 
 rows and road-sides, as also in the wildest and 
 most sterile parts of the country, are worthy of 
 the study and attention of those who wish to im- 
 prove their taste in regard to what is really elegant 
 or beautiful in form. Both grace and elegance of 
 form are to be found in the common dock, the 
 thistle, the fern, or even in a stalk of corn or 
 barley. The study of such objects is within the 
 reach of all classes ; and those who thus form 
 their taste, when they come to study the orna- 
 mental remains of Greece and Rome, will find 
 themselves familiar with the source from which 
 such designs are derived.
 
 S4 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 
 
 " Wealth, gathered long and slowly ; thoughts divine 
 Heap that full treasure-house ; and thou hast made 
 The gems of many a spirit's ocean thine ; 
 Shall the dark waters to oblivion bear 
 A pyramid so fair 1" 
 
 HEXANS. 
 
 THIS paper may catch the eye of some young 
 man whose earnest desire it is to improve his 
 mind, and who is carrying on, to the best of his 
 ability, the work of self-education. Such a one, 
 I take for granted, will not despise any suggestions 
 bearing on his main pursuit, from an unknown 
 adviser who has long been making an endeavour 
 of the very same kind. My remarks are intended 
 to bear upon a single faculty ; that is to say, on 
 the memory. 
 
 Words would be wasted if I were to set about 
 the task of showing the importance of the human 
 memory. But while all acknowledge this, I do 
 not believe there is one of our intellectual powers 
 which is more neglected and even abused, and 
 this even in our courses of popular education ; 
 and, if I err not, it is a fault which becomes every 
 day more common. The error of former ages
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 95 
 
 was one directly opposite ; and as extremes often 
 concur, it still shows itself in some particular 
 branches of study ; but the popular method leaves 
 memory very much in the background. 
 
 There is nothing in which there is more quackery 
 than in our public schools ; and this is no longer 
 wonderful, when we consider in how many cases 
 the instruction of youth is the dernier resort of 
 those who can make their bread in no other way. 
 An active competition springs up between rival 
 teachers, and every means is used to give eclat 
 and notoriety. It is the vanity of our age to be 
 philosophic ; the phrase is applied to every thing. 
 We are all philosophers. We all babble concern- 
 ing Bacon, and the Inductive Philosophy. Thou- 
 sands who have never got the first notion of what 
 an induction is, descant upon this or that school 
 or school-book as being on the principles of the 
 inductive system. Our babes learn the A B C on 
 the principles of the immortal Bacon. 
 
 All this would be very innocent, if it were not 
 made a stalking-horse for the introduction of 
 noxious errors in education ; and you had better 
 filch a purse from me, than set me awry in bring- 
 ing up my children. It is a part of this rigmarole 
 of smattering teachers, to declare that all the old 
 ways of teaching were slavish and useless. I 
 agree that, in some respects, some of them were 
 so. As a general declaration, however, it is far 
 from being true. Our new instructors teach phi 
 losophically. They educe the mind. They are
 
 96 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 resolved to teach nothing but what the child can 
 understand as it goes along. Therefore all the 
 old rules and antiquated catechisms are thrust 
 aside ; they are a mere load of undigested stuff 
 upon the mind. The little infant prattlers are 
 forsooth to analyze every thing. They chop logic 
 with you. Every thing is made gaudy and at- 
 tractive ; all rules become illustrations ; and all 
 journeying to science is on the royal road. 
 
 Of other evils consequent upon this method it 
 is not within my scope to speak, but I adduce its 
 bad effects in the affair above mentioned. Accord- 
 ing to this plan the memory is an inferior power, 
 to be used as little as possible ; and as a matter 
 of fact it is immeasurably less tasked in all our 
 public schools, than it was thirty years ago. 
 Everywhere, among young men, I hear the most 
 honest complaints about defect of memory ; and 
 if things go on as they have begun, we shall do 
 all within our power to reduce it to imbecility. I 
 appeal to the experience and observation of parents : 
 let us come to plain fact. Do your children com- 
 mit to memory as much as you used to do ? I 
 ask not whether it is for better or for worse, but 
 do they bring home as many evening-tasks as you 
 once did ? Do the boys make the house resound 
 with passages out of Milton and Dryden, and with 
 "capping verses"? Do the girls carry in their 
 memory, as you used to do, scores of fine extracts 
 from Pope and Thomson ? Your reply will attest 
 the truth of ray remark, that this 'faculty is neglected
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 97 
 
 in our schools: we may have some indemnity, 
 but unquestionably the memory is not improved. 
 
 This is a clear going backwards. Nor is it 
 single ; it is part and parcel of a system. The 
 plan of the age comprises, the spirit of the age 
 almost insures, this very thing. Look about 
 among your friends ; compare the young with the 
 old. I venture to anticipate your conclusion ; you 
 find the memory of the latter more rich in special 
 deposites of knowledge than the former ; more 
 fine old ingots of fact and poetry laid up in trea- 
 sure. This is one of the evils attendant on a great 
 blessing : it is the tax we pay for the multiplicity 
 of our books. Where books are many, we can 
 only touch and go, as travellers drink of springs 
 by the way ; where they are few, we resort to 
 them again and again, as men drink out of their 
 own wells. The poor man with few books is 
 observed, even in our day, to peruse and reperuse 
 until he has mastered their whole contents. Be- 
 fore the invention of printing this was often the 
 case ; as it now is in those Mohammedan coun- 
 tries where all books are in manuscript. The 
 poems of Homer were repeated for generations 
 by strolling rhapsodists, or minstrels, before they 
 were committed to writing ; and long after they 
 were transcribed, they were in whole or in large 
 part treasured in the minds of the people. It was 
 said in my hearing by Dr. Wolff, the celebrated 
 missionary, that a European or American would 
 be astonished at the number of persons in Persia 
 9
 
 93 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 who know by rote all the productions of their 
 principal poets. 
 
 Among the Mohammedans it is a common 
 achievement to commit the Koran to memory. 
 The following Egyptian anecdote is related in 
 Mr. Lane's " Manners and Customs of the Mo- 
 dern Egyptians :" 
 
 "A man was employed in Cairo to be a school- 
 master. He could neither read nor write, but he 
 could recite the Koran from beginning to end. 
 His plan was, to hear the boys repeat their les- 
 sons, which are always in this book. As to the 
 writing, he employed the head-boy in the school 
 to attend to this, pretending that his eyes were 
 weak. A few days after he had taken upon him- 
 self this office, a poor woman brought a letter for 
 him to read to her from her son, who had gone 
 on pilgrimage. He pretended to read it, but said 
 nothing; and the woman, inferring from his silence 
 that the letter contained bad news, said to him, 
 Shall I shriek ?" He answered, ' Yes.' Shall 
 I rend my clothes ?' He answered, ' Yes.' So 
 the poor woman returned to her house, and with 
 her assembled friends performed the lamentation 
 and other ceremonies usual on the occasion of 
 death. Not many days after this her son arrived, 
 and she asked him what he could mean by giving 
 her such an alarm. The explanation was given, 
 the letter was produced, and the teacher was called 
 to account for his imposture. His ready apology 
 was : God alone knows futurity ! How could I
 
 THE CULTIVATION OP MEMORY. 99 
 
 know that your son would arrive in safety t It 
 was better that you should think him dead, than 
 expect to see him and be disappointed.' " 
 
 As to the Jews, it is not only a common thing 
 for them to have the whole Hebrew Bible in their 
 memory, but also large portions of the Talmud, 
 which is a collection of comments five or six 
 times as extensive. One of their own chroniclers 
 relates a fact which illustrates this observation. 
 In the seventh century the copies of the Talmud 
 became very scarce in Persia, in consequence of 
 one of those hideous persecutions to which this 
 unconquerable race has been so often subjected. 
 A celebrated Rabbi, fearing lest the precious work 
 should be irreparably lost, fell upon the happy 
 expedient of consigning it, in portions, to the 
 memory of his several scholars, giving to each a 
 single treatise. At the appointed time the scholars 
 were assembled, and the immense work was re- 
 hearsed without the error of a jot or tittle. Strange 
 as this legend may seem, I think it right to say, 
 that it is cited with credence by an eminent Ger- 
 man author of our day, who adds this declaration: 
 " Even now, I would wager, that the same experi- 
 ment would have a like result. The most ortho- 
 dox Jews, those most attached to the Talmud, 
 among all who live in Europe, are to be found in 
 Lithuania and Poland. Now let the prince who 
 reigns over them send forth an edict through his 
 extensive dominions, that at the end of three 
 months every Talmud shall be delivered up and
 
 100 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 destroyed, except a single one with which to make 
 the trial. Within four months the Jews will pro- 
 duce twelve rabbins who shall repeat the contents 
 of the work word for word."* Indeed, a Jew 
 has exhibited himself in London within the last 
 few months, who publicly submitted to a trial in 
 proof of his having every word of this immense 
 mass in his memory. 
 
 It would be tedious to recite the instances of 
 amazing memory given in ancient books. The- 
 mistocles learned to speak Persian in a year. 
 Mithridates knew two -and -twenty languages. 
 Crassus professed to be familiar with five dialects 
 of the Greek tongue. Cyrus remembered the 
 names of all his soldiers.t Theodectes could 
 repeat any number of verses which were read to 
 him. Erasmus knew all Terence and Horace by 
 heart ; and Beza could repeat the Psalms in He- 
 brew, and St. Paul's epistles in Greek. The 
 great Pascal, in modern times, had a memory from 
 which nothing seemed to escape. In our own 
 country Dr. Nisbet, once president of Dickinson 
 College, is reported to have known every line in 
 Virgil. But I am becoming prolix, and must 
 therefore take a fresh pen for the more practical 
 part of my subject. 
 
 * Professor Gfriirer, of Stuttgart, in his History of Primi- 
 tive Christianity. 
 
 f Quintilian, last. Orat lib. \i. 2.
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 101 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OP MEMORY. 
 
 Continued. 
 
 " The busy power 
 Of memory her ideal train preserves 
 Entire ; or when they would elude her watch, 
 Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste 
 Of dark oblivion." AKENSIDE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE held, as I am told by the school- 
 master, that all remembrance is owing to a physical 
 impression made on the brain. Thus he is enabled 
 to account for the quickness and shortness of 
 memory in children ; because the brain of the 
 little one is soft, and therefore easily takes a mark, 
 and as easily loses it. On the other hand, the 
 brain of old men is tough and rigid, so that it nei- 
 ther takes nor loses an impression with facility. 
 This theory is exploded, but it still serves to illus- 
 trate the principle that it is in early life that the 
 memory must be chiefly disciplined. This is a 
 most important truth in education, but very much 
 overlooked in the pretended philosophy of educa- 
 tion. It is important as directing us to the proper 
 studies for our children. There are some things 
 which we must teach them now, because they 
 9*
 
 102 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 cannot learn them so well hereafter : there are 
 other things which we must teach them hereafter, 
 because they cannot learn them any better, if even 
 so well, now. The things which children should 
 learn now, are all those which exercise memory 
 rather than reason : such is whatever concerns 
 language, and whatever it is important to remem- 
 ber in certain terms. All rules and forms which 
 will be perpetually coming into play in subsequent 
 studies or in active life, should be deeply engraven 
 upon the memory. Rules of grammar, religious 
 catechisms, and the words of Holy Scripture are 
 especially of this sort. And that parent is trifling 
 with the future happiness and usefulness of his 
 child, who allows himself to be decoyed into the 
 absurd rule of inculcating nothing upon the memory 
 until it can be comprehended by the understanding. 
 But I must leave the children, and return to the 
 young men. What are they to do ? And espe- 
 cially what are they to do, if they have heretofore 
 been neglected ? Is there any chance of redeem- 
 ing lost opportunities ? or rather, is there not 
 occasion for despair ? One of my maxims about 
 every thing is, Never despair: another maxim is, 
 Never stand still; that is, never, in youth or 
 age, allow yourself to think you have reached the 
 ne plus ultra. Resolve to reform every error, to 
 cure every disorder, and to supply every defect, 
 as long as you live. Instead therefore of indulging 
 in pusillanimous complaints and indolent wishes 
 about the defects of your memory, set about sup-
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF MEMORY. 103 
 
 plying them. The very thing I am writing for 
 is to induce you to undertake this very work. 
 Your whole success depends upon two quite 
 simple principles : 
 
 FIRST. The memory must be exercised. The 
 law of all our powers, of mind and body, is the 
 same. They grow in proportion to their health- 
 ful exercise. It is so with muscles. Compare 
 the arm of the tailor with that of the blacksmith 
 or the woodman. Compare the voice of the 
 chimney-sweep with that of the silent house- 
 servant. Compare your own hand with that of 
 your neighbour whose way of life is the reverse 
 <o( your own. If your memory is weak, it is 
 probably from want of exercise. Not but that 
 there are great original diversities ; but still there 
 is not more than one in five hundred whose memory 
 might not be improved to a degree sufficient for 
 every useful purpose. You have either been 
 entirely neglected, or the discipline of your 
 memory, having been attended to in your child- 
 hood, has since been intermitted. If the former, 
 you have no recollection of any labours in this 
 kind ; if the latter, you find it much harder to get 
 any thing by rote than once you did. Which- 
 ever of these is the case, you are now to begin, 
 and practise, by suitable degrees. Though it is 
 a faculty which admits of being put upon immense 
 exertions where it has been trained, it must be 
 brought up from decay by degrees. You must 
 commit to memory, as a task. The task must
 
 104 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 be frequently renewed, and the matters given in 
 charge to the memory must be increased by very 
 slow degrees. 
 
 My friend, the schoolmaster, declares to me 
 that he has seen the most astonishing cures wrought 
 among his lads. He has a number of little rules 
 respecting memory, which are worth being re- 
 corded. Here are some of them. 
 
 Memory depends on three things. 
 
 1. Attention. Attend and you will remember. 
 The more you attend, the better will you remem- 
 ber. Great fixedness of attention will burn the 
 thing into your mind. Perhaps the whole of 
 your difficulty has this origin. If so, you must 
 go back one step, and cultivate the habit of con- 
 centrating your thoughts. 
 
 2. Repetition. Repeat and you will remember. 
 Drop after drop wears away rocks. But a par- 
 ticular sort of repetition must be recommended : 
 Repeat and examine yourself. This is the remark 
 of Lord Bacon, and almost every child has tried 
 the experiment : " You will not so easily learn a 
 piece of writing by rote by reading it over twenty 
 times, as by reading it over ten times and trying 
 every time to recite it, looking at the book when- 
 ever you fail."* 
 
 3. Associations of pleasure or pain. Even a 
 dog remembers where he has been whipped, and 
 an ox where he has been watered. It was the 
 
 * Bacon, Nov. Org. lib. ii. Aph. 28.
 
 THE CULTIVATION OP MEMORY. 105 
 
 custom, in old times, in England, to whip the 
 boys of a neighbourhood at each of the march- 
 stones, or division marks between parishes ; in 
 order to fix it in their memories. The Choctaws 
 are said to inculcate their traditions upon the 
 young people, in a similar way. I would not, 
 indeed, prescribe self-flagellation, great as its vir- 
 tues are supposed to be in some orders of monks, 
 but would strenuously recommend it to you, to 
 call up as vivid associations of a pleasurable kind 
 as you can around those things which you endea- 
 vour to remember. 
 
 The schoolmaster declares that he is convinced 
 the ancients were right in enjoining it on their 
 scholars when they wished to learn any thing 
 with remarkable ease, to sleep upon it ; that is to 
 rehearse it just before going to rest, and just after 
 rising. 
 
 SECOND. The memory must be trusted. This 
 principle is not less important than the foregoing, 
 though less obvious. Those have the most accu- 
 rate, prompt, and faithful recollection, who confide 
 most to their memory. It is a jealous faculty, 
 and does not willingly see its functions assigned 
 to another. Men who make it their habit to carry 
 every thing in their heads, seldom blunder ; men 
 who jot down every thing are lost without their 
 tablets. The penny-post knows a list of more 
 names and numbers than you or I could commit 
 to memory in a week. A respectable merchant 
 lately said to me, " I have scarcely any memory,
 
 106 TBJE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 and I attribute it to the habit of our business, in 
 which we never trust any thing to our recollection, 
 
 without an entry in some book." Judge Y , 
 
 of New York, used to declare that without his 
 notes of evidence he could not aver that this or 
 that witness had made any observation. This 
 agrees with what is said by old Montaigne : " I 
 can do nothing," says he, " without my memo- 
 randum-book; and so great is my difficulty in 
 remembering proper names, that I am forced to 
 call my domestic servants by their offices." On 
 the other hand, the schoolmaster relates of Hor- 
 tensius, the great rival of Cicero, that he could 
 attend a protracted auction, and then at the end of 
 the sale give as accurate a list of items and prices 
 as the clerks who kept minutes. I can believe 
 this the more readily from what I have myself 
 known of an analogous feat in an eminent merchant 
 of a southern city. 
 
 Practise then upon the maxim, to intrust every 
 thing to your memory which may be done so 
 safely. What we sometimes hear about " over- 
 burdening the memory" is the mere cant of a false 
 philosophy. Memory is not a beast of burden. 
 No man ever realized the threatened evil. We 
 may make our memory labour to weariness at one 
 time ; so may we do with the judgment. But in 
 neither case is it the multitude of particulars which 
 distresses the mind. We may again charge the 
 memory with what is useless or injurious ; but 
 this is clearly distinct from going beyond its
 
 THE CULTIVATION OP MEMORY. 107 
 
 capacity. We may further try to remember too 
 much. But that any pain or other evil is conse- 
 quent from the mere amount of things actually 
 remembered, I resolutely deny. Trust your 
 memory therefore. Beware of an inordinate use 
 of common-place books. They have their use ; 
 but you will often find that a great transcriber into 
 such volumes leaves all his stores behind him 
 when he shuts his study-door. And I have heard 
 the schoolmaster read passages out of Bayle, going 
 to show that all common-place books were con- 
 demned by several of the most learned men of 
 former days ; as by Saumaise or Salmasius, by 
 Menage, and by Govean ; the last of whom went 
 so far that he would not admit pen and ink into 
 his library, lest transcription should interrupt his 
 thinking and impair his memory.* It must be 
 confessed that this would be ruinous to a poor 
 writer of scraps, such as myself. 
 
 * Bayle's Diet art. Ancillon.
 
 108 THE WORKING-MAH- 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S JOURNEYS. 
 
 "Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits." 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 THE ease with which we go from one place to 
 another makes us a travelling people, perhaps to 
 as great an extent as is true of any equal number 
 of persons in the world. Go when you will upon 
 any of the great thoroughfares, as between Boston 
 and Providence, between Baltimore and Philadel- 
 phia, or especially between Philadelphia and New 
 York, and you find the steamers, cars, and coaches 
 filled with wanderers. I never cease to wonder 
 as to what may be the impelling motive with so 
 great a number, for so long a period. I have 
 nevertheless been led to the opinion that our 
 artisans do not travel a great deal, or even as much 
 as several other classes which might be named. 
 It is true they, like their neighbours, must some- 
 times change their place. When work is dull in 
 one town they go to another, and there are thus 
 two streams of workmen perpetually setting be- 
 tween our two great cities ; while, in a smaller 
 degree, a similar circulation of labour is kept up 
 through the whole country. There is also a cur-
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S JOURNEYS. 109 
 
 *ent of emigrants to the west, and in this there 
 is always a considerable infusion of mechanical 
 labour. But still, whatever may be done from 
 necessity, mechanics as a class do not jaunt about 
 much for pleasure, or for the purpose of gaining 
 those particular advantages which have been sup- 
 posed to result from travelling. Yet the mechanic 
 often needs recreation and change of air ; and 
 where his business admits of it, it would be well 
 if he could more frequently roam a little over the 
 face of our wide land. In some countries, it is 
 thought so important for young mechanics to 
 travel for improvement in their craft, that it is 
 enjoined by law. This is particularly the case 
 in the German states, and deserves consideration 
 from our enterprising mechanics. A German 
 artisan is not thought to have completed his edu- 
 cation until he has spent some months or years in 
 working abroad. The custom is very ancient, 
 and arose in a time when the modes of commu- 
 nicating knowledge which we now have were 
 altogether unknown. There were, in that day, 
 no Builder's or Millwright's Guides, no Manuals 
 for Weavers, Watchmakers, or Dyers, no Tailor's 
 Magazines. Men of trades as well as men of 
 letters were forced to go from place to place, in 
 order to pick up the nicer operations of their craft. 
 The stream of travel naturally tended from the 
 ruder to the more civilized nations. In the mid- 
 dle ages, when Germany was rough and Italy 
 refined, the young men who followed in the train 
 10
 
 110 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 of German princes and nobles on their expedition* 
 to the south, brought back new trades and new 
 methods from Tuscany or Venice. From being 
 an accidental thing it grew to be imperative, and 
 the Guilds or Trades' Unions of that day made 
 it a condition of entrance into their bodies, that 
 the applicant should have spent a certain number 
 of years away from the place of his apprentice- 
 ship. They regarded this as indispensably ne- 
 cessary to the dignity and improvement of their 
 calling. 
 
 This was very important when every art was a 
 mystery, and when the sleight of a clever work- 
 man was as sacred as the nostrum of a quack. It 
 was often but little of a trade that the master- 
 workman could give his boys ; and even where 
 he was skilled, he -too frequently kept his own 
 secret, or set on it an exorbitant price. To acquire 
 the higher polish of the art, a young man must go 
 through other countries, and pick up as much as 
 possible of their improvements. In this wcmder- 
 jahre, or year of wandering, the journeyman 
 found many things to learn. He saw some or 
 all the materials of his daily operations, in their 
 place of origin, or in great factories ; he consulted 
 with celebrated artisans, or worked in favoured 
 establishments, and beheld the -highest achieve- 
 ments of his art. The manifest tendency of the 
 system was to equalize information, to throw 
 happy inventions into the common stock ; to 
 awaken emulation and quicken genius ; to enlarge
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S JOUHNEYS. Ill 
 
 the views and add to the stock of processes. Be- 
 sides the acknowledged advantages of all travelling, 
 in an age when there was not much to prevent 
 stagnation of trade, it contributed to lessen the 
 number of hands where there were too many, 
 and to furnish labour abroad when it became 
 scarce. 
 
 The system continues to be thought useful, 
 although it is known to labour under some great 
 disadvantages. It tends in many instances to 
 produce roving habits, and affords great facilities 
 for idleness and dissipation. I am therefore very 
 far from recommending any such regular plan for 
 our own country. But to a certain extent our 
 mechanics might take the hint, and avail them- 
 selves of some of the advantages of travelling. I 
 have known one carpenter who made a voyage to 
 Europe for the express purpose of gaining new 
 ideas in his business ; and I see no reason why- 
 it should not be more common with the better 
 class of workmen. Particularly in all that relates 
 to architecture or other decorative arts, it would 
 seem to be highly desirable that the adept should 
 have fully before his mind's eye the greatest 
 works in his own department. Sir John Soane, 
 the son of a bricklayer, was an architect of great 
 eminence, and derived much of his taste and skill 
 from a visit of some years to Rome. But without 
 crossing the seas, our enterprising artisans might 
 contrive to know a little more about one another.
 
 112 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 and to make short trips for health at the same time 
 subservient to the progress of their arts. It has 
 been very common for agriculturists to pursue this 
 plan, as in the case of the noted Arthur Young : 
 why should it not yield its fruits to the mechanic 
 arts ? If the young traveller were to keep a few 
 memoranda of his more valuable observations, it 
 would be a useful exercise for his mind, and would 
 be useful in subsequent years. And if no objec- 
 tion can be raised against this but an indisposition 
 to expend a few dollars, I can only say that this 
 frugality would be much more wisely applied to 
 other and less profitable indulgences. Before 
 leaving this subject, I ought to remind my young 
 readers, that in their journeys for pleasure or 
 business, they may gain a large increase of know- 
 ledge from all the strangers into whose company 
 they are thrown. Experience soon teaches the 
 traveller, that there is no one from whom either 
 amusement or information may not be extracted. 
 " For ourselves," says Sir Walter Scott, " we 
 can assure the reader and perhaps if we have 
 ever been able to afford him amusement, it is 
 owing in a great degree to this cause that we 
 never found ourselves in company with the 
 stupidest of all possible companions in a post- 
 chaise, or with the most arrant cumber-corner 
 that ever occupied a place in the mail-coach, with- 
 out finding that, in the course of our conversation 
 with him, we had some ideas suggested to us,
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S JOURNEYS. 113 
 
 either grave or gay, or some information commu- 
 nicated in the course of our journey, which we 
 should have regretted not to have learned, and 
 which we should be sorry to have immediately 
 forgotten."
 
 114 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 APPRENTICES. 
 
 " Ye masters, then, 
 
 Be mindful of the rough, laborious hand 
 That sinks you soft in elegance and ease ; 
 Be mindful of those limbs in russet clad 
 Whose toil to yours is warmth and graceful pride." 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 Ii every tk;jng is ever effectually done in this 
 coumry, towaiJs elevating the industrious classes 
 to their due place in society, the work must begin 
 with those who are in youth. In regard to mind, 
 manners, or morals, we cannot expect very great 
 improvement IB those who have passed middle 
 life : our endearours should be directed to the 
 apprentice. 
 
 The relation of master and apprentice was a 
 closer and a warmer one in former days. The 
 lad was willing to allow that he had a master, for 
 a certain time and a certain purpose, and in ex- 
 pectation of being one day a master himself. He 
 thought this was no more disgraceful, than the 
 subordination of the scholar to his teacher, or the 
 soldier to his captain. And, in return, the em- 
 ployer felt a responsibility proportioned to his 
 authority. Good men were accustomed to treat
 
 APPRENTICES. 115 
 
 their apprentices as their sons ; they gave them 
 many little instructions out of the line of the trade, 
 and had an eye to their religious duties. It is 
 unnecessary to say, that the state of things is very 
 much altered. Insubordination, radicalism, and 
 a false and impracticable theory of equal rights, 
 have destroyed the gentle authority which used 
 to exist. The whole affair of indentures, as my 
 readers very well know, is in some places be- 
 coming a mere formality. It is less common than 
 it used to be for boys to serve out their whole 
 time. Many influences are at work to make lads 
 impatient, and loth to continue in one place, how- 
 ever good. And when they abscond from their 
 proper service, it is not every employer who now 
 thinks it worth his while to take the legal mea- 
 sures for recovering their time. It is known to 
 those who are conversant with mechanical esta- 
 blishments in our cities, that the old-fashioned 
 system is found to be ineffectual ; so that master- 
 workmen have to try new methods of getting the 
 requisite amount of work from their hands. In 
 some cases, this is effected by small remunerations 
 for task-work. There are many shops in which 
 there are no regular apprentices ; the employers 
 choosing rather to hire such labour as they can 
 get. I have even heard the opinion expressed 
 that the day is not far off when the whole system 
 of apprenticeship will be thrown aside. 
 
 The spirit of our age and country is a spirit of 
 restless hurry. We are for quick turns, short
 
 116 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 cuts, and sudden results. Amidst the increased 
 risks of human life, seven years is a great portion 
 of the human span. Another trait of our national 
 character is a dislike to all rule, just or unjust. 
 It is natural for a boy to prefer variety to sameness 
 of occupation ; and when regular service is no 
 longer compulsory, we must expect to see our 
 youth flying from the severe work of shops to 
 those chance jobs which give bread to so many 
 thousands in our streets. 
 
 The effects of this condition of things are mani- 
 festly bad. We are falling between two systems. 
 We are slipping away from the old plan of former 
 ages, and have not yet alighted upon a better 
 one more suited to modern improvements. If 
 boys and youth may serve one year or six years 
 at their own option, if they may run from one 
 employer to another, upon every whim; if they 
 may even exchange their trade two or three times 
 before they come of age, is it not as plain as 
 day, that the proportion of really accomplished 
 workmen must lessen from year to year ? And 
 this being the case, several evils must necessarily 
 ensue, which are too obvious to need recital. 
 
 But the nature of things does not alter : skilled 
 labour, like other commodities, will find a market, 
 and will bring the highest price. This is begin- 
 ning to show itself in certain kinds of manufacture, 
 in which foreign artisans are coming in, to the 
 exclusion of our own countrymen. It is as vain 
 as it is unrighteous, for us to fold our arms and
 
 XT APPRENTICES. 117 
 
 raise an outcry against foreign labour, and form 
 associations of native Americans. If we do not 
 secure the thorough trade-education of our own 
 youth, we must expect to see all the finer and 
 more difficult branches taken out of our hands. 
 As a general thing, I am glad to know that this is 
 far from being the case : I speak only of tendencies, 
 and I do not think it can be denied that the ten- 
 dency of the change I have mentioned is to evil. 
 
 But there are moral consequences of this relaxa- 
 tion of the old system, which are still more to be 
 deplored. As the tie between the employer and 
 the apprentice becomes slight, there is a lessening 
 of authority on the one side and of duty on the 
 other, as well as of affection on both. We often 
 talk of the advantages of domestic influence, the 
 bonds of the fireside, the charm of. home : and on 
 this point it would be hard for us to speak too 
 much, or too enthusiastically. But where is the 
 apprentice's home? It is not in his father's 
 house : in the greater number of cases, this is not 
 within reach. It is not his employer's house ; at 
 least under the prevailing system, and in our cities 
 and large towns. For this there are various 
 reasons. In great manufactories, where there are 
 at least a dozen boys these of course cannot be 
 allowed to overrun the employer's house : they 
 are often put out to board elsewhere. In neither 
 case have they a home. Even where there is 
 only an ordinary number, as the master is no longer 
 a parent, the apprentice feels no longer like a son
 
 118 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 Where can he spend his evenings ? Not in the 
 garret or loft where he sleeps : in winter it is cold ; 
 in summer it is suffocating. Not in the kitchen : 
 he would be in the way. Not in the sitting-room : 
 that would be too familiar. Where can he spend 
 the long hours of his Sunday ? Let us look the 
 truth in the face : The apprentice has no home. 
 Is it any wonder that at night we hear the heavy 
 tramp of their feet upon our pavements as they 
 career along by scores ? Is it any wonder that 
 they crowd our oyster-houses, porter-cellars, bar- 
 rooms, shows, and wait for checks about the doors 
 of our theatres ? 
 
 The moral consequences of this I need not 
 dwell upon : they are open to the day. I am not 
 so chimerical as to propose a return to old ways, 
 or to hang on the wheels of modern improvement. 
 I only urge, that the old system of master and 
 apprentice, when carried out in practice, had cer- 
 tain advantages, which are not provided for in our 
 present methods. If we do not wish our young 
 mechanics to become an easy prey to vice, we 
 must set about some preventive measures. The 
 apprentice must have some agreeable place in 
 which to spend his leisure moments. I am accus- 
 tomed to see some of the best youth I know, 
 passing their Sundays in the street or the fields. 
 Vice opens many doors to the less scrupulous : 
 surely virtue ought to do as much. For a number 
 of years, it has been my deliberate and unchanged 
 opinion, that no roan could bestow a greater benefit
 
 APPRENTICES. 119 
 
 on our working-classes, than he who should devise 
 and offer to apprentices a pleasing, popular, and 
 ever-open resort for their leisure hours, where they 
 might not only feel at home, but be out of the reach 
 of temptation, and in the way of mental improve- 
 ment. It is worthy of consideration in our Lyceums 
 and Mechanics' Institutes. And if this volume 
 should fall into the hands of any friends of the 
 young mechanic, in such towns or villages as are 
 without Lyceums or Mechanics' Institutions, I 
 would urge on them a new and strenuous effort to 
 procure the establishment of such truly useful 
 associations. The attempt will cost some pains ; 
 it will be opposed by some, and sneered at by 
 others, and some will stand aloof and recount the 
 history of similar enterprises, and their failure. 
 But, nevertheless, the thing has been done, and 
 can be done again ; and there is no good reason 
 why every town in America should not be adorned 
 by a graceful edifice devoted to the mental im- 
 provement of the young artisan.
 
 120 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 
 
 " Heaven forming each on other to depend, 
 A master, or a servant, or a friend, 
 Bids each on other for assistance call, 
 Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all." 
 
 POPZ. 
 
 UPON the question, What shall be the wages 
 of labour? the world of enterprise is naturally 
 divided into two parties. For it is obvious, that 
 the employer will desire to give as little as he can, 
 and the workman to receive as much as he can. 
 And in the great majority of instances, the advan- 
 tage in this contest has been on the side of the 
 master- workmen, as being able to combine more 
 easily, and to subsist longer without new receipts. 
 This state of things, however, has received a very 
 important disturbance from the expansion of the 
 credit system ; which, so far as this controversy 
 is concerned, has brought the two parties more 
 nearly upon a level. 
 
 In order to place themselves upon terms of some 
 equality in the contest, it was necessary that ope- 
 ratives should in some way or other combine for 
 mutual support ; and in the case of those who are
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 121 
 
 called "skilled workmen," the effect of such com- 
 binations has often been sudden and extensive. 
 
 In attempting to raise and keep up wages above 
 their natural rate, various methods have been used. 
 The most obvious is that of refusing to work for 
 less than a certain sum agreed upon ; and where 
 the combination is universal or very extensive, this 
 is likely to have its effect in the case of skilled 
 labour. Another method not much unlike this in 
 its principle, is that of combining to lessen the 
 hours of labour, the price remaining the same. 
 A third is that of limiting the number of skilled 
 workmen in any district; and this method has 
 from time to time been imbodied in the municipal 
 customs and statutory provisions of many coun- 
 tries. To this source we owe all the guilds or 
 trade-corporations of England, the statutes of 
 apprenticeship, the tours of journeymen (wander- 
 jahre) in Germany, and similar expedients ; the 
 object being in every case the same, namely, to 
 make labour more costly, by making it more diffi- 
 cult to be procured. Upon the same principle, 
 in some of the Spice Islands, it has been customary 
 to destroy part of the pepper crop in order to raise 
 the price of the commodity. 
 
 The corporations of the middle ages were the 
 basis of all our municipal privileges, as indeed 
 they were the cradle of modern civic prosperity 
 in general : they were, in those rude periods, a 
 necessary safeguard for the peaceful burgher 
 against the ruthless and iron-handed barons and 
 11
 
 122 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 their feudatories. But the state of things has 
 greatly changed with the advancement of society. 
 As the defences of established law have formed 
 themselves around the mechanic and the labourer, 
 those irregular and extraordinary provisions should 
 have been abandoned ; as being no less antiquated 
 and no less dangerous than the famous Secret 
 Tribunals of the dark ages ; which nevertheless 
 were almost demanded in a state of things where 
 society was in a perpetual conflict : 
 
 " For why 1 Because the good old rule 
 
 Sufficed them ; the simple plan, 
 That they should take who have the power, 
 And they should keep who can."* 
 
 But we have lived to see a new growth spring- 
 ing up in the rank soil of modern civilization. In 
 the unexampled increase and mighty influence of 
 Trades' Unions there is every thing to awaken, 
 the interest of the political and the moral philoso- 
 pher. Viewing what has occurred within a few 
 years, we can only say, with Talleyrand, It is 
 the beginning of the end! No man can examine 
 the influence of this organization of the working- 
 classes, without perceiving that, unless arrested, it 
 must give origin to a state of society totally dif- 
 ferent from any that the world has ever seen; 
 whether better or worse than that which has pre- 
 ceded, events will prove. 
 
 * Wordsworth,
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 123 
 
 The early dissensions of republican Rome gave 
 occasion to Menenius Agrippa to rehearse the 
 fable of the Belly and the Members ; an apologue 
 which is no less instructive and appropriate now, 
 than it was then. Nothing can fail to be dis- 
 organizing and ruinous, which tends to set the 
 rich against the poor, or marshals these two 
 classes into conflicting hosts. And such is the 
 tendency of that fearful system which is beginning 
 to spread itself among our happy yeomanry.
 
 124 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XX. 
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 
 
 Continued. 
 
 " We see, we hear with peril : Safety dwells 
 Remote from multitude. The world's a school 
 Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around ! 
 We must or imitate or disapprove ; 
 Must list as their accomplices or foes." 
 
 YOUHO. 
 
 THE true way to judge of Trades' Unions is to 
 see them at home; to examine their working in 
 the place of their origin, and where their influence 
 is most extensive. In this country they are still 
 in their infancy, and we can scarcely see their 
 ultimate tendencies ; but in Great Britain and 
 Ireland they have existed for a long period, and 
 we may sit in fair judgment upon their results. 
 Every year brings us nearer and nearer to the 
 transatlantic pattern : we borrow their organiza- 
 tion, their methods, their " slang-terms," and their 
 men. Here, as there, we have our weekly con- 
 tributions, our forms of initiation, our committees 
 of vigilance, our flags and mottoes and processions. 
 Perhaps in due course of time we may have our 
 burnings, maimings, and assassinations. But be-
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 125 
 
 fore we allow things to get to this pass, it becomes 
 us to sit down and count the cost. Let us look 
 into some of the reasons pro and contra. 
 
 If a contest were necessary between the rich 
 and the poor, (which we heartily believe it is not, 
 but on the contrary that, in the long run, their 
 interests are identical,) if it were necessary that 
 capital and labour should be placed in conflict 
 we should be ready to concede that every facility 
 and aid should be allowed to the working-man, 
 because he is under all sorts of disadvantage. 
 This is less true in America, where, for the most 
 part, labour and capital go together; but in Great 
 Britain mechanics and other labourers need every 
 species of lawful union to bear them up against 
 the weight of capital and easy concert which is 
 marshalled on the other side. No man who has 
 a heart can become acquainted with the distresses 
 which exist in the thronged manufactories of Bri- 
 tain, without being tempted to pray that this un- 
 natural system may never become paramount in 
 our own beloved country, where millions of untilled 
 acres still invite the pallid and starving artisan. 
 No wonder the working-classes desire to increase 
 the rewards of labour ; no wonder they take pity 
 on their own flesh and blood, and combine to 
 relieve them. And if wages, by any such expe- 
 dient, could be made to rise and stand at an ele- 
 vated point, we should say that the benefit had 
 almost indemnified society for the dreadful losses 
 sustained in the process. If, as has been held by 
 11*
 
 126 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 distinguished economical philosophers, the average 
 rate of wages is an exponent of national prosperity, 
 the Trades' Unions which should effect this would 
 be public benefactors. And it was in the expecta- 
 tion that the labourer by coping with his employers 
 would in some degree effect this, that the British 
 Parliament removed the restrictions from trade 
 combinations. But to the astonishment of many, 
 and the sorrow of all who know the facts, the 
 chief effect of this repeal has been to increase the 
 misery of the very class which it sought to benefit, 
 by subjecting labouring-men to a despotism almost 
 incredible in its power, and fruitless as to its grand 
 intention. 
 
 How far does combination tend to produce a 
 permanent elevation of wages? This is a proper 
 question for seasons of tranquillity, such as the 
 present. In the midst of a panic or a strike it 
 would be vain to agitate it, because the present or 
 proximate advantage the rise of wages, however 
 temporary would dazzle the excited workman, 
 and blind him to future evils. But in this time 
 of contentment we ought to establish principles, 
 which may stand us in stead when the struggle 
 comes. Let us take a case in which the imme- 
 diate effect of combination is that which was 
 desired ; and this is very common, where the 
 strike has been well-timed, at seasons when great 
 bills are running against employers, and where 
 credit is low, and especially if the establishment 
 is in some degree separate and single-handed.
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 127 
 
 Here the triumph of the working-man seems to 
 common observers to be complete. But let us 
 look a little deeper. 
 
 Take the case of journeymen tailors. Suppose 
 this class of operatives, in Newark, to strike for 
 higher wages, and to succeed. Journeymen tailors 
 will be at once tempted to flow in from New York ; 
 and this influx will be in proportion, first, to the 
 general distress, and, secondly, to the amount of 
 increasing remuneration. Of course it will be 
 less than it would be in the case of unskilled 
 labour, such as that of the piecers and pickers in 
 cotton factories ; where the vacuum would be 
 filled up almost immediately. The consequence 
 of this transfer of labour is, that wages rise else- 
 where, and by degrees fall here : after a short time 
 the proportion is much what it had been, and the 
 general rise of level is scarcely appreciable. 
 
 But put the case that all the journeymen tailors, 
 throughout all the country, combine to raise the 
 rate of wages. Here the transfer of labour is 
 more slow, but not less certain. It is now a 
 transfer, not from city to city, but from trade to 
 trade. The man who is apprenticing his boy, 
 chooses that trade whose wages are the highest : 
 if the state of things continue, the current will 
 change its bed, and find channels in new sorts of 
 business. The case is extreme ; one so favour- 
 able never occurs ; as the struggle is commonly 
 terminated long before any such result can be 
 matured.
 
 128 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 But imagine the case, that all the Unions, of all 
 the trades thus combined in all the country, agree 
 to force up the wages of labour. Unless they can 
 simultaneously augment the productive power of 
 the country, there is of necessity a fall in profits, 
 or, in other words, a decrease in the accumulation 
 of capital. Let us hear Dr. Vethake upon this 
 point. " Every retardation of the rate in which 
 capital accumulates will be accompanied by the 
 two effects of a less rapid increase of population, 
 and of a diminished rate of wages. Moreover, 
 but for the enjoyment/or a time by the labouring 
 classes of a higher rate of wages, which will render 
 them less disposed to content themselves with the 
 wages they were before accustomed to, the dimi- 
 nution of wages will proceed until they are reduced 
 once more to their former rate. The tendency of 
 them, however, to be for this reason at a some- 
 what higher rate than formerly, would in all pro- 
 bability be more than counteracted by the sum 
 total of production, when compared with the 
 augmented population, having, from the necessity 
 of applying capital and labour lo the land under 
 more disadvantageous circumstances than before, 
 become diminished ; a condition of things, it will 
 be recollected, implying a rise of rents, and a fall 
 of profits and wages" The same learned man 
 guards us against the selfish rejoinder that this 
 effect may not take place until years shall have 
 passed away ; by showing that from the very 
 moment a rise of wages takes place, the rate of
 
 TRADES' UNIONS. 129 
 
 profits will be reduced, capital accumulate slowly, 
 and wages will fall. Besides this, the real wages 
 of the working-man will not increase by any means 
 as his pecuniary wages. He will find it harder 
 to get work, and the commodities he needs will 
 be higher in price. 
 
 The voice of political philosophy is therefore 
 unequivocal. "Even setting aside wholly (says 
 Dr. Vethake) the permanently injurious effects 
 to result, I think that an unprejudiced person 
 can scarcely avoid concluding against every system 
 of the kind : not only in respect to the interests 
 of the community regarded as a whole, but also 
 in respect to those of the very parties to benefit 
 whom is the object proposed."
 
 130 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S LIBERTIES. 
 
 " Mortals, that would follow me, 
 Love Virtue, she alone is free." 
 
 MII/TOTT. 
 
 IT would be much too trite to be welcome, if I 
 were to say, that the tendency of things, in our 
 free country, is towards licentiousness. But I 
 shall account myself happy, if tumults, and revolts 
 against equitable rule, do not drive some among 
 us to ask for a strong government, as a resource 
 against perpetual alarms. There is danger of this ; 
 and the way to counteract a disposition so unlike 
 that in which we were all bred, and so inconsistent 
 with the principles of our government, is certainly 
 not unworthy of being searched for. In a knot 
 of village politicians, whom I sometimes encounter 
 of an evening, I listen with both ears to whatever 
 may be said ; and though I am without a tongue 
 in such matters, I cannot help having an opinion. 
 One thing is constantly showing itself, and I ask 
 attention to my surmises. The red-hot Jacobins 
 of our time are playing into the hands of the 
 absolutists of Europe. While they try to set the 
 poor against the rich forgetting that he who is
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S LIBERTIES. 131 
 
 poor to-day may be rich to-morrow ; while they 
 dupe the unthinking with the old Agrarian song 
 which befooled the Romans under the Gracchi, 
 and the English mob under Jack Cade, and will 
 never fail, till the world be wiser, to lift the dema- 
 gogue another round of the ladder, and crush the 
 poor fellows of whom he has made his stepping- 
 stone ; while they teach that all rule is tyranny, 
 and all subordination degrading, they are preparing 
 the happiest consummation for the enemies of 
 republican government. No union of foreign 
 legitimists could break our bulwarks. All the 
 power of Europe would only, like pressure on an 
 arch, compact us more closely. Open assault, 
 though gigantic and reiterated, would put us on 
 our strong national points of resistance ; nor do I 
 believe there is the power on earth which could 
 force a king upon America. The blood of the 
 old free colonists runs proudly yet. All fourth 
 of July harangues to the contrary notwithstanding 
 we never were slaves ; we never can be unless 
 we sell ourselves. 
 
 I am alarmed to hear quiet men expressing 
 themselves in new phrases ; as if our great ex- 
 periment had almost failed. They have no reason 
 to say so, except the rampant licentiousness and 
 turbulent ferocity of certain agitators. But these 
 occasional outbreaks tend to loosen our anchorage, 
 to strain our holdfasts, and even when we wish 
 to weigh and be off, the cables may part just when 
 the anchors come a-peak. Principles are wearing
 
 132 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 away silently hut fast, in some very useful minds, 
 which might be of great service to us at a pinch ; 
 and this change is owing entirely to the revulsion 
 caused by licentious temerity. 
 
 I am not one of those who dread so much from 
 the direct influence of mobs and riots. There is, 
 in the worst of them more show of teeth than 
 bloodshed, more powder than ball ; thanks to 
 Providence that it is so. More lives are lost in 
 a dozen street-fights, or one steam-explosion, than 
 in the riots of ten years. We are a strong people, 
 and can resist a number of partial shocks, just as 
 we resisted Shays' insurrection, and the Whisky 
 Boys. Our Anglo-Saxon reserve holds off the 
 supreme, ultimate force of repression as long as 
 possible ; but it comes out at last, like Neptune, 
 to still the waves. " A disorderly multitude," 
 says Addison, in one of his works, which we have 
 learned from British tories to neglect,* " a dis- 
 orderly multitude contending with the body of the 
 legislature, is like a man in a fit under the conduct 
 of one in the fulness of his health and strength. 
 Such a one is sure to be overruled in a little time, 
 though he deals about his blows, and exerts him- 
 self in the most furious convulsions while the dis- 
 temper is upon him." But my apprehensions are 
 of another sort. Our danger is from the disgust 
 which is likely to arise in a large and influential 
 portion of society, upon beholding the destructive 
 efforts of ambitious or disaffected citizens. The 
 The Freeholder, No. 28.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S LIBERTIES. 133 
 
 frame of our government, as left us by the heroic 
 men who planned and established it, is the master- 
 piece of political architecture ; it was often and 
 justly compared to a Temple of Freedom. " But 
 no\," we may say with an ancient poet, " they 
 break down the carved work thereof with axes 
 and hammers." There is perhaps no man, of any 
 trade, who does not think himself wise enough to 
 tinker at a state constitution. 
 
 With the aid of my friend Mr. Appletree, the 
 schoolmaster, and my favourite Plutarch, I could 
 easily multiply instances of the dangers of licen- 
 tiousness and excess among a free people. The 
 ancient histories are full of this. So are the 
 eventful stories of modern Italy. A volume might 
 be filled with the turmoil of Florence alone. And 
 all these examples go to show how important it is 
 for our young men to set out in life with proper 
 principles, and to maintain the golden mean betwixt 
 Scylla and Chary bdis. For there are two ex- 
 tremes. On the one side is the scented, girlish, 
 long-haired fopling, fresh from Paris or London, 
 who tries to acquire distinction by disparaging 
 American institutions. Though his grandfather, 
 perhaps, wrought with his own hands, the stripling 
 looks on all republicanism as ungenteel. And on 
 the other side is the braggart and ruffian, who 
 would resign every question to the mob as the 
 source of power, and have the country convulsed 
 by annual popular elections of every functionary 
 from a judge to a constable. "A usurping popu> 
 12
 
 134 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 lace," said Swift, " is its own dupe, a mere under- 
 worker, and a purchaser in trust for some simple 
 tyrant, whose state and power they advance to 
 their own ruin, with as blind an instinct as those 
 worms that die with weaving magnificent habits 
 for beings of a superior order. The people are 
 more dexterous in pulling down and setting up, 
 than at preserving what is fixed : and they are not 
 fonder of seizing more than their own, than they 
 are of delivering it up again to the worst bidder, 
 with their own into the bargain." 
 
 The upshot of the matter is this : people should 
 be taught from their cradles what true freedom is, 
 and how it is to be maintained ; how it differs 
 from lawlessness and misrule, and how closely it 
 is connected with popular virtue. The boy at 
 school and in the shop should be taught, that 
 nothing can be done without order ; that there can 
 be no order without law ; that all law demands 
 obedience ; and that in such obedience to rightful 
 authority, there is nothing which either injures or 
 degrades. The apprentice and the journeyman 
 should learn betimes, that to loosen a single pin 
 of the social machine is like loosening the pin of 
 a steam-engine ; and wherever the disorganization 
 may begin, it will never stop till it ruins those 
 who have begun it. When public disorders, and 
 civil broils, and revolutionary violence once enter, 
 the very class of persons who always bear the 
 worst of the tempest, is that for whose benefit I 
 am writing the honest, temperate, home-loving, 
 industrious, frugal working-men.
 
 IN A STRANGE LAND. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN A STRANGE LAND. 
 
 " But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto 
 you as one born among you, and thou shall love him as 
 thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." 
 
 Lev. xix. 34. 
 
 ON a cold Saturday night, I stepped into a hat- 
 ter's shop, in New York, to supply the loss of a 
 beaver, which had been hopelessly injured in a 
 crush at a public meeting. The gas-light before 
 the door threw its gleam directly in the face of a 
 young woman who was sitting near the counter. 
 I perceived in a moment that she was thin, pale, 
 and sorrowful. Her dark hair was ready to fall 
 over her cheeks, as if she had forgotten to fasten 
 it ; her lips seemed to move ; and the folds of a 
 scanty black woollen shawl could not so far hide 
 her hands but that I perceived she was wringing 
 them. I remained some minutes in the shop, 
 and, during that time, saw at least seven or eight 
 young women and girls come into the place with 
 work which they had been doing, after delivering 
 which they received their payment. But still this 
 sad creature kept her seat. At length the young 
 man of the establishment said, in a tone somewhat
 
 136 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 peevish, "Come, Jane it is nearly ten o'clock 
 I am going to shut up and you know you have 
 been paid." She looked wildly up for a moment, 
 and then dashed out of the house as if she had 
 only then awaked from a stupor. " She is in a 
 fair way to be crazy," said the young man. 
 
 "Ah !" rejoined I, much interested, "what has 
 happened to her?" " Oh ! I can scarcely tell you 
 the whole," said he ; " she is one of those con- 
 founded Irish they all come to ruin." " I hope 
 the girl is virtuous," said I. " Oh ! virtuous 
 enough, I warrant ye," cried he, with a vulgar 
 addition, and a horse-laugh ; " otherwise she 
 would not be sewing fifteen hours a day on hat- 
 linings. But then her father is sick in bed, her 
 mother is just dead, the only brother she has is 
 in jail for stealing a piece of domestic cotton, and 
 there are three little sisters that have to be sup- 
 ported by this one. I happen to know all this ; 
 for her brother used to drive an omnibus in which 
 I came down town every morning." 
 
 In reflecting on this case, as I walked to my 
 lodgings, I was oppressed with a recollection of 
 the vulgar saying, that " one half the world does 
 not know how the other half lives." How would 
 it shock, even the most heartless, to have gathered 
 before 1pm, at a single glance, all the cases of this 
 particular kind of misery, existing at this very 
 moment in New York, or in Philadelphia. Alas ! 
 the stranger and foreigner finds many of his golden 
 dreams untrue ; and dies a thousand deaths, in
 
 IN A STRANGE LAND. 137 
 
 beholding the less rugged members of his family 
 perish before him. Beauty, health, and innocence 
 are too often the sacrifice, when a piercing and 
 unexpected season of cold and poverty comes sud- 
 denly on a young creature in a strange country. 
 
 No man will have the hardihood to deny that 
 we suffer serious inconveniences from the unlimited 
 importation of foreigners. But every humane 
 man will remember, that the day was when all 
 the settlers of this country were emigrants ; that 
 his own ancestors came from abroad ; that not all 
 are ignorant, vicious, or uncivilized ; and that 
 even where vice has been the source of misery, 
 such misery is not to be abandoned to despair 
 and ruin. 
 
 It is the fashion to say much against the Irish 
 as improvident, intemperate, and riotous ; and no 
 one can deny that some such charge is no more 
 than fair against a large number ; but it is a mo- 
 mentous question in moral^ how far we are ex- 
 empted from the duty of relieving the widow, the 
 fatherless, the sick, or the aged, of any nation, 
 because some, or even most, of 'the same lineage 
 are vicious people. Some of the best blood in 
 America is from Ireland. Some of the best citizens 
 are the sons of Irishmen. Before we condemn, 
 or spurn from our doors, the poor son of Erin, 
 we are to remember that he flies to us from untold 
 wrongs, and that he has heard of ours as the land 
 of the oppressed. We need not go so far in our 
 proscription as to denounce every creature that has 
 12*
 
 138 THE WORKING-MAW. 
 
 the brogue upon his tongue. I well remember 
 having once stopped for a moment in Pine street, 
 to look at a boy who had been thrown from a 
 horse. Several men were around a pump at 
 which they were washing the mire and blood from 
 his face. " Who frightened the horse ?" some- 
 body inquired. "Oh," cried a bystander, "no- 
 body can tell ; but it was some Irishman, 
 
 I'll bet." This was carrying out the native Ame- 
 rican policy, with a vengeance. The beauty of 
 the thing was, that not ten rods off, in a door-way, 
 stood the Rev. Mr. P., a genuine Irishman, with 
 whom I was going to breakfast. He heard the 
 critical portion of the speech, and sadly smiled. 
 By-the-by, it would require the laborious charities 
 of several common Americans towards the Irish, 
 to repay the beneficence of this good clergyman 
 among the sick poor of our own country. In 
 conclusion, let me say, that I am neither an Irish- 
 man, nor the son of %n Irishman.
 
 ADVANTAGES OF WORKING-MEN. 130 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 vDVANTAGES OF AMERICAN WORKING-MEN. 
 
 "How small, of all that human hearts endure, 
 Th&i ^ait which laws or kings can cause or cure ! 
 Still U> i Ui'selves in every place consign'd, 
 Our GW.) Jghaty we make or find." 
 
 The Traveller. 
 
 IT is not uncoa^inon to hear mechanics and 
 other working-men repining at their lot in life, 
 especially as comp<nfcd with that of such as are 
 engaged in the learned professions. In hours of 
 despondency, those an, imagined to be happy 
 wlio are freed from the i\c\ essity of manual labour, 
 whether as men of wealta or of letters. Content- 
 ment is the best policy. All is not gold that glit- 
 ters. Inaction is not ease. Money will not pur- 
 chase happiness. Lords and ladies are often very 
 wretched people ; and the instances are numerous 
 n which even kings have thought men of humble 
 stations the happiest. 
 
 M. d'Alembert relates that Frederick, king of 
 Prussia, once said to him, as they were walking 
 together in the gardens of Sans Souci, " Do you 
 see that old woman, a poor weeder, asleep on that 
 sunny bank ? She is probably happier than either
 
 140 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 of us." So also Henry IV. exclaims, in Shak- 
 speare, 
 
 " Canst thou, partial Sleep ! give thy repose 
 To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; 
 And in the calmest and most stillest night, 
 With all appliances and aids to boot, 
 Deny it to a king 1" 
 
 which may remind us of the saying of a greater 
 and wiser king than either : " The sleep of a 
 labouring-man is sweet, whether he eat little or 
 much ; but the abundance of the rich will not 
 suffer him to sleep."* And before I dismiss my 
 royal witnesses, let me cite King James the First, 
 of England, who used to say, that the happiest 
 lot in life was that which set a man below the 
 office of a justice of the peace, and above that of 
 a petty constable.t 
 
 The truth is, labour is not an evil. " In the 
 sweat of thy face shall thou eat bread," sounds 
 like a curse, but has been made a blessing by our 
 benign Creator. Health, strength, and cheerful- 
 ness are promoted by the proper use of our bodily 
 powers. Among the Jews, labour was accounted 
 so honourable and so necessary, that every man 
 used to be bred to some trade ; that so he might 
 have a resource in case of misfortune. The same 
 sentiment has prevailed in other eastern nations. 
 One of the Hebrew Rabbies has the surname of 
 
 * Ecclei. v. 12. 
 
 f Life of Philip Henry, p. 25.
 
 ADVANTAGES OP WORKING-MEN. 141 
 
 the Shoemaker, and another of the Baker. Sir 
 Paul Ricaut somewhere mentions, that the Grand 
 Seignior, to whom he was ambassador, had been 
 taught to make wooden spoons. There cannot 
 be a greater mistake than to suppose that mental 
 exertion is less wearing than the labour of the 
 hands. Head work is the hardest work in the 
 world. The artisan feels this if at any time he 
 has to spend a whole day in calculation. All men 
 of learning testify to the same truth, and their 
 meager frames and sallow complexions tell a 
 plainer tale than their words. Sir Edward Goke, 
 the great English lawyer, speaks thus concerning 
 his great work : " Whilst we were in hand with 
 these four parts of the Institutes, we often having 
 occasion to go into the country, did in some sort 
 envy the state of the honest ploughman and other 
 mechanics. For one, when he was at his work, 
 would merrily sing, and the ploughman whistle 
 some self-pleasing tune, and yet their work both 
 proceeded and succeeded ; but he that takes upon 
 him to write, doth captivate all the faculties and 
 powers, both of his mind and body, and must be 
 only attentive to that which he collecteth, without 
 any expression of joy or cheerfulness while he 
 is at his work." 
 
 But if it is true of working-men everywhere 
 that as such their lot is not to be deplored, it is 
 eminently true of working-men in America, as 
 compared with those of other countries. It is 
 important that information on this subject should
 
 142 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 be diffused among the industrious classes, in order 
 to show them how unreasonable are their murmurs. 
 Take the case of the common labourer ; he is bet- 
 ter clothed, better lodged, and better fed, in Ame- 
 rica, than in any country on earth. Two-thirds 
 of the French people, says M. Dupin, are at this 
 day wholly deprived of the nourishment of animal 
 food, and they live on chestnuts, Indian corn, or 
 potatoes. In parts of Normandy, the lace-makers 
 take refuge in the cow-houses, where the breath 
 of the cattle diffuses some warmth : here they do 
 the whole of their work during the cold season. 
 Even in England, many of the hand-loom workers 
 receive but seven shillings a week, and live in 
 damp hovels, almost without furniture. I need 
 not say how different is the case of the poorest 
 labourer among ourselves ; while the condition of 
 the thriving mechanic is, in comparison, almost 
 princely. Mr. Grund, an intelligent foreigner, 
 says, on this point, " On entering the house of a 
 respectable mechanic in any of the large cities of 
 the United States, one cannot but be astonished 
 at the apparent neatness and comfort of the apart- 
 ments, the large airy parlours, the nice carpets 
 and mahogany furniture, and the tolerably good 
 library, showing the inmates' acquaintance with 
 the standard works of English literature. The 
 labouring classes in America are really less re- 
 moved from the wealthy merchants and profes- 
 sional men than they are in any part of Europe." 
 The American mechanic has the prospect of
 
 ADVANTAGES OF WORKING-MEN. H3 
 
 wealth spread before him ; and as he advances 
 towards it, his leisure increases with his means. 
 He has an opportunity to lay in stores of know- 
 ledge. If he has attended somewhat to learning 
 in his younger days, he finds no obstacle now in 
 the way of his advancement either in science or 
 literature. With a moderate income, and a favour- 
 able situation, he can give his sons and daughters 
 a far better education than he received himself. 
 And if he is so happy as to be a member of any 
 Christian church, he finds that there is no privi- 
 lege, trust, or office from which he is excluded 
 by his having been a labouring-man. Thus he 
 mingles with the choicest portions of society; and 
 if he live to old age, enjoys the grateful repose 
 of that season as fully as the proudest descendant 
 from nobles. Is there any country but our own, 
 where all this can be said with truth ? 
 
 Go into any of the American towns and large 
 villages, and you will find mechanics occupying 
 some of the most elegant mansions ; you will see 
 them filling the highest municipal stations. You 
 will recognise them in large proportion among 
 the officers of the militia, in the direction of 
 moneyed corporations, and upon the most im- 
 proved farms. You will find their names in every 
 ecclesiastical record, and high in the list of benefac- 
 tors in every charity. Such are the signs which 
 should satisfy every American working-man, that 
 by choosing a laborious calling, he has not excluded 
 himself from comfort, usefulness, or honour.
 
 144 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE VILLAGE TALKER. 
 
 " Talkers are no good doers." 
 
 King Richard III. 
 
 AFTER the lapse of twenty odd years, I have 
 full in my mind's eye the person of Sandy Thorp. 
 He was a grown man, while I was still a child, 
 yet a large, portion of his life passed within my 
 knowledge ; which will be the more credible when 
 I say that the better portion of his days was passed 
 in the street. Not that he did not sometimes, 
 nay, often, drop into the door of a tavern ; for he 
 knew everybody; but this was only the brief 
 exception, like the alighting of the swallow. It 
 might be said that Sandy was always on the whig. 
 Not even Socrates was less fond of the country 
 than Sandy Thorp, who, like the same great sage, 
 was almost perpetually engaged in discourse by 
 the wayside. At whatever hour you might choose 
 to go down town, you would be sure to see Sandy, 
 whatever else you might miss. In the early 
 summer morning he would be loitering around 
 the stage-office to get a glimpse of the passengers 
 who had lodged for the night ; perhaps to snatch 
 up a grain of news. When the tavern boarders
 
 THE VILLAGE TALKER. 145 
 
 were picking their teeth on the porch after break- 
 fast, Sandy picked his teeth under the same 
 auspices. The opening of our little post-office 
 usually gathered a group, of whom he was always 
 one. As the sun came out hotter and hotter, he 
 would retreat from the open ways, to some shed 
 or awning, or saunter from shop to shop, always 
 on his feet, and evidently preferring the outside 
 to the inside of the door. At that still hour of the 
 afternoon, when the Spaniard takes his siesta, 
 when ladies are invisible, and when every thing 
 seems to be dead, Sandy was as brisk as the bee 
 that hummed over his head ; for wherever a list- 
 ener could be found he was haranguing, with 
 rapid puffs from the short pipe which he employed 
 to keep down his nervous agitation. The night 
 did not close his activity, and I have often heard 
 his voice, long before I could discern his form, 
 among the worthies who make this the favourite 
 season of their promenade. 
 
 Perhaps I am drawing a picture which will be 
 recognised in more towns than one. Certain I 
 am there can be no mistake in that in which I 
 write. Though Sandy is long since dead, the 
 race is not extinct. That which characterized 
 him was his ubiquity and his news-mongering. 
 It was his pride to be at the first of every rumour. 
 You could not tell him any thing new, or make 
 him wonder at any thing unheard of: as he would 
 not be instructed, the marvel was how he ever 
 came to the knowledge of his facts. Only two 
 13
 
 146 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 explanations have ever been attempted ; one was 
 that he never so much heard as overheard ; though 
 not a willing listener, he was an eavesdropper : 
 and while he hung upon the outskirts of a gathering 
 of men, he would carry away more of the conver- 
 sation than any one of the company. Another 
 account was that many of the incidents which he 
 related were of his own manufacture. 
 
 No occurrence ever mortified him more, than 
 when Gleig, the Scotch stone-cutter, his next door 
 neighbour, absconded during the night, leaving 
 Sandy in the vocative with regard to the rent of a 
 little yard in which he worked at his tomb-stone. 
 He could not pretend that it had been done with 
 his privity, because he had been cozened : he 
 would not confess ignorance, because he would 
 thus lose the chief plume in his cap. For several 
 days he was missing from the village, and always 
 spoke of the event as very mysterious. 
 
 It is remarkable that in almost every place, 
 there are some men who seem to have no means 
 of support, and who live along for years together, 
 without suspicion of actual dishonesty, and with- 
 out falling into the clutches of the law. If Sandy 
 Thorp ever had a trade, nobody could tell what it 
 was. He owned a little shop separate from his 
 house, but no work was ever done in it, and when 
 any one was allowed to peep into it there seemed 
 to be nothing in it but old iron, scattered tools, 
 and refuse furniture and harness. In earlier life 
 Sandy picked up a dollar now and then, by going
 
 THE VILLAGE TALKER. 147 
 
 to the beach for a wagon load of fish, or by filling 
 an ice-house, or in the spring of the year by bring- 
 ing in choice forest trees for planting in pleasure- 
 grounds. But his main employment was that of 
 a veterinary surgeon, or, more vulgarly, a horse 
 doctor. Whether this science comes by inspira- 
 tion, or whether he was a seventh son, I know 
 not, but he took it up, as most do, without any 
 regular diploma. Like all loungers about tavern- 
 doors, he was much engaged in passing judgment 
 on all the horses of the neighbourhood. You 
 might see him, almost daily, feeling the legs, or 
 prying into the mouths of the hacks in the stable- 
 yard : and, let me not fail to say, it is an employ- 
 ment in which he has not left us without suc- 
 cessors. I distinctly remember the air with which 
 he would handle a fleam, or perform the operation 
 of mashing upon a choked cow. Such perform- 
 ances are sure to collect a little knot of men, and 
 this was just what Sandy gloried in. Here he 
 could repeat the freshest news, and give his deci- 
 sion upon affairs of state with an air of judicial 
 complacency. 
 
 Sandy was little versed in books. He always 
 knew, however, what sign the sun was in, and 
 whether the heavens were favourable for planting, 
 or for killing porkers. He was weather-wise, 
 keeping the breast-bone of a goose, by way of 
 teraphim. No one ever saw him in church, 
 except at funerals, on which occasion he was in 
 some sort a brevet undertaker; he would point
 
 148 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 out the way for the bearers, and determined whe- 
 ther the grave was wide enough. At vendues, 
 he was scarcely ever known to bid, but he advised 
 in a knowing way. Of money he had little con- 
 cern ; the instinct of beggars always led them to 
 pass him by. By long continued street-walking, 
 he had reduced his frame to a wiry fibre ; and as 
 he was tall, erect, and always thinly clad, his 
 appearance was striking. I ought to add that he 
 was never shabby. His apparel though very old 
 was always in repair, the patches and darns being 
 done with a neatness which made some suspect 
 he had been a tailor. It was observed that when 
 he had worn a hat for several years, and exhausted 
 the powers of brushing and ironing, he used to 
 put crape upon it : in such cases, it always hap- 
 pened, that he had recently lost a cousin in the 
 " Lake country." As long as he had hair, he 
 powdered it; then he used to powder his bare 
 crown, until this genteel appliance became obso- 
 lete. There was always, on the cuff of his left 
 sleeve, a row of pins, inserted with geometrical 
 parallelism. When he talked, he was in the habit 
 of whittling a stick, so that his track was often 
 marked by little piles of shavings. His likeness 
 was never taken, nor could it have been ; for when 
 he was not talking, he did not look like himself.
 
 PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 149 
 
 XXV. 
 
 PLEASURES OP THE TABLE. 
 
 " Alas ! how simple, to these cates compared, 
 Was that crude apple that diverted Eve." 
 
 MII.TON. 
 
 IT is the grand endeavour of all philosophy 
 and all religion to elevate the immortal part of 
 man ; to subdue and regulate that which he has in 
 common wifh the brute, and thus to refine and 
 expand his nature. But there is a latent sensuality 
 in our race which is perpetually thwarting this 
 pious effort; and as there are no men without 
 appetites, and few men without lusts, he who 
 flatters that within us which is animal, gains a 
 willing votary, and often beguiles us in spite of 
 our reason. The fine arts, occupying a field 
 intermediate between the region of sense and that 
 of intellect, have on this very account been often 
 prostituted. Painting, sculpture, and especially 
 music, have pandered to the unworthy principle, 
 and poetry and other kindred parts of literature 
 have been made to do homage to sense. All this 
 shows a sad inversion of human nature. It is not 
 that we have senses, that we have appetites, that 
 we have desires, that we have passions, but it is 
 13*
 
 150 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 that we serve them, that we are betrayed by them, 
 that they become our idols. Eden, the dwelling 
 of pure heaven-like creatures, was a garden of 
 sense ; its fruits were material, its sights and 
 sounds addressed bodily organs ; its paths were 
 trodden by creatures of flesh and blood. Let us 
 not curse the harmless matter, or the indifferent 
 sense ; but let us fear their abuse, in the present 
 decrepit condition of humanity. 
 
 Drunkenness has had its poetry. Nay, start 
 not some of the most stirring effusions of the 
 age have been written by men whose " fine 
 frenzy" was a sort of Dutch courage : Byron 
 declared the true Hippocrene to be gin and water. 
 The festivities of the table have been accompanied 
 with music and song, in all ages. Now I plead 
 for the festivities, in every virtuous sense, and I 
 plead for the song ; but in the name of injured 
 human nature I cry out against the intoxication. 
 Look back to early ages, and you see Bacchus 
 presiding over the poets. Anacreon was the 
 darling glee-maker for the old wine-bibbers. Horace 
 was little behind him among the Romans. In oui 
 day half the ballads remaining in our own language 
 turn upon drinking and drunkenness ; and many 
 a noble traditionary air is linked to the devil's 
 own litany, as in Cauld Kale in Aberdeen: 
 
 " For I maun hae my cogie, sire, 
 
 I canna want my cogie ; 
 I wadna gie my thrce-girr'd cog 
 For a' the queans in Bogie."
 
 PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 151 
 
 In adapting new words to the Scots' old melodies, 
 it was scarcely to be expected that Robert Burns 
 would so far preach above his practice as to sing 
 of cold water ; and some of Tom Moore's most 
 brilliant melodies have almost the scent of cham- 
 pagne. All seem to have thought with the Roman, 
 that a water-drinker could not be a poet. 
 
 In other branches of elegant letters, men who 
 should have felt the high calling to be the ministers 
 of moderation and virtue, have in certain instances, 
 even when they have not inculcated indulgence, 
 spread the sensual table with such seductive 
 sweets and garlands, as to wake the tendencies 
 which they should have lulled. It would be hard 
 to throw a glory around the extreme of inebriety: 
 the incongruity of Christopher Sly in the bed of 
 silk would startle one into ridicule. The poet's 
 wreath cannot be conveniently placed on him who 
 is dead drunk. But to this last depth men are 
 conducted through divers descents and landing- 
 places ; and of those some which are near the sur- 
 face, fall within the circle of flowers and breezes, 
 the poet's-land. Thus the wine-cup and the lyre 
 have lain side by side for ages ; but an evil demon 
 has maintained the connexion ; and I would to 
 God that at once and forever American youth 
 might dissever in their thoughts all that is ingenuous 
 and joyful from the paroxysms of vinous inspi- 
 ration. 
 
 Drinking, as a mere bodily act, is not more 
 dignified than eating: yet we have no eating-
 
 152 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 songs. Though great events, such as a successful 
 election, are solemnized by a dinner or a supper, 
 yet some veil is thrown over the deglutition. We 
 drink sentiments ; we never eat them. In adver- 
 tisements precedent, and narratives subsequent, 
 the orators and singers at these banquets are never 
 presented to the reader's imagination as pouring 
 out eloquence or song through the interstices of 
 venison or oysters, but over bumpers of costly 
 wine. Yet both go to the same place ; and the 
 whole artifice is one of the tricks we put upon 
 ourselves. Conscious that our souls are affronted 
 by this prominency given to animal indulgence, 
 we use all the poor means in our power to array 
 these gross delights in the vesture of tasteful 
 spirituality. Disguise the matter as we may, 
 ornament as we may the table or the cup, it is of 
 the earth, earthy. The soul spurns it. We do 
 but fill and feed that which is presently to be a 
 corpse and putrefaction. Do I cry out against 
 this ? Not by any means ; but I speak, for the 
 soul, against the homage we are so busily paying 
 to the body. God has graciously made our meat 
 and our drink delightful ; but it is we, who, like 
 the Egyptians with their goat and their onion, 
 have made them gods. We must fight against 
 this usurpation. We must from our infancy keep 
 under the body. He who would be a man, must 
 treat his lower nature as a gigantic slave, who is 
 always watching his chance to rise and be upper- 
 most.
 
 PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 153 
 
 There are some who pride themselves upon 
 withholding from their lips every thing which can 
 intoxicate, while they indulge in all other plea- 
 sures of the table ad libitum. This is a great 
 mockery. The soul may be crushed with a load, 
 as well as drowned with a flood. We have the 
 statistics of the disease and death caused by drink- 
 ing, but who will furnish that caused by eating ? 
 So far as the overt act is concerned, the latter is 
 certainly the more brutal. As a conclusion to my 
 outcry against animalism, I will state a case, which 
 may serve to show that there is a nearer analogy 
 than is usually suspected between the two sorts 
 of excess ; and which may further afford an exer- 
 cise for the pens of certain modern authors who 
 are fond of describing with Apician gusto the pro- 
 gress of a feast. True, the sketch I shall offer 
 relates to the Esquimaux ; but still it will, for that 
 very reason, best serve my purpose of exhibiting, 
 without a mask, the devotee of sense ; and I would 
 not quote it, if it were less disgusting. " We 
 found," says Capt. Lyon, in the account of his 
 northern adventures, " that the party which had 
 been adrift had killed two large walruses, which 
 they had carried home during the early part of the 
 night. No one therefore came to the ships, ah 
 remaining in the huts to gormandize. We found 
 the men lying under their deer-skins, and clouds 
 of steam rising from their naked bodies. From 
 Kooilittuk I learned a new Esquimaux luxury; 
 he had eaten until he was drunk, and every mo-
 
 154 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 ment fell asleep with a flushed and burning face, 
 and his mouth open. By his side sat Arnalooa, 
 who was attending her cooking-pot, and at short 
 intervals awakened her spouse, in order to cram 
 as much as was possible of a large piece of half- 
 boiled flesh into his mouth, with the assistance of 
 her forefinger, and having filled it quite full, cut 
 ofF the morsel close to his lips. This he slowly 
 chewed, and as soon as a small vacancy became 
 perceptible, this was filled by a lump of raw blub- 
 ber. During this operation the happy man moved 
 no part of him but his jaws, not even opening his 
 eyes ; but his extreme satisfaction was occasionally 
 shown by a most expressive grunt, whenever he 
 enjoyed sufficient room for the passage of sound. 
 The drippings of the savoury repast had so plen- 
 tifully covered his face and neck, that I had no 
 hesitation in determining that a man may look 
 more like a beast by over-eating than by drinking 
 to excess."* 
 
 * Capt. Lyon's Private Journal, p. 182.
 
 DRINKING AND DRUNKENNESS. 155 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 > 'if 
 DRINKING AND DRUNKENNESS. 
 
 " O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name 
 to be known by, let us call thee devil." Othello. 
 
 IF an insane parent should be brought to the 
 diabolical resolution of burning a child to death, 
 it would not be necessary that he should violently 
 thrust the infant into the flames. Only remove 
 from the little creature all dread of the fire, give 
 him free access within the fender to the blazing 
 billets, and no long time would elapse before the 
 ruin would be consummated. And precisely so, 
 in regard to death and destruction by strong drink. 
 The parent need not drench his son with a mortal 
 dose of alcohol ; nay, he need not force him to be 
 even once drunk. All that is necessary is that he 
 should bring him up to absolute carelessness as to 
 the danger of strong drink, allow him license in 
 tasting it, and set him the example of indulgence. 
 Alas ! for one that is literally burned alive, there 
 are a hundred destroyed by the liquid fire. 
 
 I should not deem myself pardonable, if I were 
 to omit this topic in addressing young men, espe- 
 cially those of the industrious class ; and although 
 some of the crusades in favour of the virtue of
 
 156 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 temperance have been conducted with fanatical 
 heats, and a contempt for all evidence and every 
 rule of reasoning, I cannot think that any friend 
 of his race is thereby excused from the duty of 
 employing every means to secure our rising popu- 
 lation ^rom so intense a curse as that of drunken- 
 ness. And when I speak of drunkenness, my 
 metaphysics will not help me to take a distinction 
 between getting drunk on gin and getting drunk 
 on cider. In the present state of the vintner's 
 business, the difference between a brandy-sot and 
 a wine-sot, is just this; the one drinks brandy 
 and water; the other drinks brandy and wine. 
 It is drunkenness, and its provocatives, against 
 which I would raise the alarm. The direct and 
 undeniable arguments against this vice are so 
 numerous and overwhelming, that I feel no neces 
 sity for rushing into the ludicrous paradoxes, 
 exaggerated statistics, and profane wresting of holy 
 writ, which have become a part of the regular 
 agitation in this matter. Therefore I have never 
 sought to prove that the wine of the Scriptures 
 was not inebriating, or that alcohol, in its smallest 
 portion, is concrete iniquity. But with the incon- 
 trovertible reasons occurring in every day's walk, 
 I would urge on my young countrymen to abhor 
 the cup of temptation. The sight of one slavering 
 drunkard is enough ; it contains an encyclopedia 
 of arguments against any indulgence in strong 
 liquors. I am amazed that, as one man, our youth 
 do not arise in their strength, and swear to exter-
 
 DRINKING AND DRUNKENNESS. 157 
 
 minate this dragon. I am amazed that a single 
 young man, so long as there remains a drunkard 
 in the land, should hesitate to save himself from 
 the reach of the monster's fang. And most of all 
 am I amazed that there should be a single being, 
 not confessedly a coward- and hypocrite, who can 
 be deterred by the sneers of corrupt comrades from 
 adopting a line of conduct which his reason and 
 his conscience imperatively prescribe. 
 
 If we can raise up a generation of sturdy fellows 
 who have never tasted the evil spirit, we shall 
 insure to the country, at a later day, a tribe of 
 hale aged men, every one of whom may say with 
 old Adam 
 
 " Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility ; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty but kindly."* 
 
 And our descendants will look back on the 
 annals of intoxication with as much incredulity or 
 detestation, as that with which we ourselves con- 
 template the gladiatorial shows, or the orgies of 
 the cannibal. 
 
 The attraction which has brought me to this 
 subject is certainly not its novelty, but its import- 
 ance ; and I must even run the risk of repeating 
 
 * As You Like It 
 14
 
 158 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 things which have been uttered at a hundred Tem- 
 perance meetings ; these pages may, however, be 
 read by some who do not frequent such assem- 
 blies. To the young man whose eye is upon, 
 this page, I would therefore say, do for yourself 
 what the Spartans used to do for their children : 
 summon before you some beastly impersonation 
 of the vice, in order that it may forever seize 
 your imagination and your heart. Call before 
 your mind's eye a group of the worst drunkards 
 within your knowledge. Fancy the whole dozen 
 to be before you as, for instance, on the bench 
 or settee of some gin or beer shop. Behold the 
 maudlin tears, the drivel, the lack-lustre eye, the 
 hiccough, the belch, the vomit, (shame on vice 
 which makes indecency indispensable to truth,) 
 the stagger, the stammer, the idiotism ! Behold 
 decrepitude in youth, and contempt in hoary hairs ! 
 Add to the scene the wives they have murdered, 
 and the sons who have died of drink before their 
 eyes and then while your "gorge rises" at the 
 spectacle, fix in your soul this one truth There 
 is not one of these demoniacs who was not once 
 as pure and as fearless as yourself. 
 
 There is something so nauseous in the extreme 
 symptoms of this disease, that it might be proper 
 to cast a veil over them, if it were not that Provi- 
 dence has made them odious in order to alarm our 
 fears. We ought therefore to take a fair look upon 
 the stagnant pool of abominations in which those 
 wallow who tamper with this indulgence. In the
 
 DRINKING AND DRUNKENNESS. 159 
 
 approach, Intemperance shows a gay and pleasing 
 face : her complexion is ruddy, her wreathed smiles 
 are soft and melting ; she sings and dances, as she 
 offers "the sweet poison of misused wine." She 
 leads the social bevy, and steals the mask of friend- 
 ship, of liberality, and of patriotism. She proffers 
 her assistance at every festival. It is this aspect 
 of the Circe which allures and misleads. It is 
 only after the seduction has been completed after 
 the curtain has been dropped in the recesses of 
 her private chamber, that the horrid truth is dis- 
 played. There it is the victim finds that her eye is 
 a red fountain of rheums, her breath putrescence, 
 her visage livid and bloated, her tongue ribald, 
 and her frame a mass of ulcerous corruption. 
 
 Faugh ! " Give me an ounce of civet, good 
 apothecary, to sweeten my imagination !" You 
 may well exclaim thus ; but the more you are dis- 
 gusted, the more just is your impression; and the 
 vile emblem is faint when placed by the viler 
 reality. Seeing then that the cup of wine leads 
 to such issues, and that the merely temporal results 
 of drinking are thus loathsome, let me beg you to 
 abjure all those sportive and therefore palliative 
 expressions which are often employed to describe 
 a condition which is in wretchedness and degrada- 
 tion below nothing on this side of hell. We have 
 many merry tropes by which to point out that a 
 man has made himself a fool or a maniac. The 
 Arabs are said to have near a hundred names for 
 a lion. We have almost as many for a man in
 
 160 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 liquor. But in proportion as we laugh, we fail to 
 abhor. The boy who jeers a street-drunkard, has 
 his natural horror merged in a mere sense of the 
 ludicrous. Let this be examined, and it will, if I 
 err not, lead to a principle which has been too 
 much neglected. Abandon at once and for life 
 the use as a beverage, either habitually or occa- 
 sionally, of every liquid which can intoxicate. 
 With a soul filled with detestation of this chief of 
 the Furies, free yourself from her solicitations.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HEALTH. 161 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HEALTH. 
 
 " Know, then, whatever cheerful and serene 
 Supports the mind, supports the body too. 
 Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, 
 Is Hope : the last of all our evils, Fear." 
 
 ARMSTRONG. 
 
 IN a late visit I had the pleasure of meeting ray 
 two good friends, uncle Benjamin and the school- 
 master, quietly seated under the shade of a spread- 
 ing buttonwood tree. Upon my making some 
 little complaints about my ill health, uncle Benja- 
 min interrupted me with " Pshaw ! man ! beware 
 of becoming a grumbler. I have known a man 
 whose everlasting reply was Dying, while he 
 ate well, slept well, and looked as if he could 
 have knocked down a beef." 
 
 " Some men," said the schoolmaster, quoting 
 Cowper, 
 
 " Some men employ their health, an ugly trick, 
 
 In making known how oft they have been sick, 
 
 And give us, in recitals of disease, 
 
 A doctor's trouble, but without the fees ; 
 
 Relate how many weeks they kept their bed, 
 
 How an emetic or cathartic sped ; 
 
 Nothing is slightly touch'd, much less forgot, 
 
 Nose, ears, and eyes seem present on the spot" 
 14*
 
 162 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 " Just so," rejoined uncle Benjamin : " ailing 
 folks should live in hospitals ; at any rate they 
 should remember that other people are not so 
 deeply interested in their disorders. In a long 
 life I have always observed, that there is no greater 
 difference between an ill-bred and a well-bred man, 
 than that the latter keeps his little troubles to him- 
 self. It is a shame for active mechanics to become 
 complainers ; even if they are amiss, brooding 
 only makes matters worse. What says the pro- 
 verb ? the three best doctors are Dr. Diet, Dr. 
 Quiet, and Dr. Merryman. What says the Bible ? 
 A merry heart doeth good like a medicine."* 
 
 " That reminds me," said Appletree, "of what 
 is said of the famous Dr. Nichols, that whatever 
 a man's distemper might be, he would not attend 
 him, as a physician, if his mind was not at ease ; 
 for he believed that no medicines would have any 
 influence. And I dare say you have read the 
 twenty-fifth number of the Spectator, where Addi- 
 son says, ' the fear of death often proves mortal,' 
 and that many more thousands are killed in a flight 
 than in a battle, and that it is impossible that we 
 should take delight in any thing that we are every 
 moment afraid of losing." 
 
 " There is too much talk," said uncle Benjamin, 
 " about health as a separate concern. If men are 
 temperate, regular, active, cheerful, and cleanly, 
 they will generally be well. If not, let them 
 bewail their mishaps, not before their friends, but 
 * Prov. xvii. 22.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HEALTH. 163 
 
 their doctor. But what with bran-bread and vege- 
 table diet, and what with lectures and tracts upon 
 health, hundreds are put in the way of becoming 
 symptom-hunters, then hypochondriacs, and then 
 real invalids. None but a fool will go to fingering 
 the nice works of a watch ; yet any one feels free 
 to tinker with his constitution. First whims, then 
 experiments, ruin the strength." 
 
 " Even learned men," said the schoolmaster, 
 " have fallen victims to this folly. Dr. Stark, an 
 eminent physician of the last century, experi- 
 mented on diet until his life ended in February, 
 1770. On the 24th of the preceding June he 
 began with bread and water. On the 26th of 
 July he changed this for bread, water, and sugar. 
 Then came bread, water, and olive oil. On the 
 8th of September he was so weak that he almost 
 fainted in walking across the room. The last 
 mess but one was a diet of bread or flour with 
 honey, and an infusion of tea or of rosemary. 
 He died on the 23d of February. Bathing, which 
 is one of the best things in the world, may be 
 carried to excess. Men of one idea are fond of 
 recommending their own notions to every one : 
 but Dr. Currie closes the account of one of his 
 experiments in cold bathing with the remark, that 
 the chief thing he learned from it was, that it was 
 not rashly to be repeated." 
 
 "Right, right," exclaimed uncle Benjamin; 
 " ' God never made his work for man to mend.' 
 The really robust and long-lived men in all nations
 
 164 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 have always been those who have had no whimsies. 
 They have been temperate, and cleanly, and good- 
 natured, and brisk, but they have kept no lenten 
 days, nor proscribed any of the ordinary articles 
 of diet. Good roast beef, with tea, coffee, and 
 garden stuffs, has not shortened their days.* 
 And I believe after all it is quantity rather than 
 quality which hurts us. Let a man be forever 
 asking himself, Will this hurt? or, Will that hurt? 
 and he will soon arrive at the point at which every 
 thing will hurt." 
 
 " Exactly so," said the schoolmaster. " When 
 Dr. Johnson's friend Taylor happened to say that 
 he was afraid of emetics, for fear of breaking some 
 small vessels, ' Poh !' said Johnson, ' if you have 
 so many things that will break, you had better 
 break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. 
 You will break no small vessels !' And then, 
 says Bos well, he puffed and blowed with high 
 derision." 
 
 The real diseases of working-men deserve to 
 be considered with all possible aid from science. 
 Let their causes and frequency be noted and re- 
 
 * " Mr. Wesley," says Dr. Southey, " believed that the use 
 of tea made his hand shake so before he was twenty years 
 old, that he could hardly write. He published an essay 
 against tea-drinking, and left off during twelve years : then, 
 ' at the close of a consumption,' by Dr. Fothergill's directions, 
 he used it again, and probably learned how much he had 
 been mistaken in attributing ill effects to so refreshing and 
 innocent a beverage."
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S HEALTH. 165 
 
 ported. Where prevention is possible, let them 
 be prevented; where cure is possible, let them 
 be cured; but let them not weigh like a night- 
 mare on those who are well. The statistics of 
 disease in England go to show that " one hundred 
 of the efficient male population of the country are 
 net liable to more than twenty-five severe attacks 
 of disease in the year. Each man is liable to a 
 protracted disease, disabling him from work, every 
 four years : this forms one great section of the 
 sickness of the country, but it does not include 
 accidents from fighting and drunkenness, or the 
 many ailments which make men apply for me- 
 dical advice while they carry on their occupa- 
 tion, comprising, perhaps, as many more cases 
 of a slighter character, which raise to fifty per 
 cent, the proportion of the population attacked 
 annually."* 
 
 Some of our working-men of the active trades 
 lose their health by over-eating and over-working: 
 of course I leave out the drinking men, who can 
 seldom have sound insides. Extreme exertion 
 wears out multitudes in all trades where great 
 bodily power is required. The coal-heavers of 
 London, healthy as they look, are but a short- 
 lived people. The heavy loads which they carry 
 and the liquor which they drink carry them off 
 rapidly. Before the introduction of the power- 
 press, a large proportion of the pressmen who 
 
 Statistical Account of the British Empire ; Article by 
 Dr. Farr.
 
 166 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 were accustomed to print large newspapers, by 
 hand, were affected with a particular disease, 
 which is the result of an unequal action on the 
 muscles. In the sedentary trades, the danger is 
 from constrained position, bad air, want of ex- 
 ercise, and want of water. An hour every day ** 
 in the garden or wood-yard, and a daily sponging 
 of the whole body, together with temperance, 
 cheerful evening visits, and good music, would 
 put blood into the veins of many a limber tailor 
 and swarthy shoemaker.
 
 BATHS, AND CLEANLINESS. 167 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 BATHS, AND CLEANLINESS. 
 
 " 'Tis this adorns the rich ; 
 The want of this is poverty's worst wo ; 
 With this external virtue, age maintains 
 A decent grace ; without it, youth and charms 
 Are loathsome." AH.MSTUOSTG 
 
 THERE is nothing in which the domestic eco- 
 nomy of the moderns, more differs from that of 
 the ancients, than in the article of Baths. The 
 allusions of the Bible to this practice are familiar 
 to us all. The Egyptians, the Greeks, and the 
 Romans agreed in making it a part of their daily 
 routine. The public baths of the Romans were 
 magnificent structures. Those of Caracalla were 
 adorned with two hundred pillars, and furnished 
 with sixteen hundred seats of marble ; on which 
 three thousand persons could be accommodated at 
 once. Those of Dioclesian were still more sump- 
 tuous. Alexander Severus, to gratify the passion 
 for bathing, ordered the warm baths to be opened 
 by break of day, and also supplied the lamps with 
 oil. Thus the bath became a universal luxury, 
 until there were some so devoted to the enjoyment 
 as to use it four, five, and even eight times a day.
 
 168 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 In modern Europe, though bathing is not so 
 highly prized as it was among the ancients, it is 
 regarded as far more necessary to health and com- 
 fort than among ourselves. Indeed the neglect of 
 thorough ablution is not unlikely to become a na- 
 tional reproach. A British traveller says, and not 
 without some appearance of truth, that " the prac- 
 tice of travellers' washing at the door or in the 
 porticoes, or at the wells of taverns and hotels, 
 once a day, is most prejudicial to health ; the ablu- 
 tion of the body, which ought never to be neglect- 
 ed, at least twice a day, in a hot climate, being 
 altogether inconsistent with it. In fact," he adds, 
 " I have found it more difficult, in travelling in the 
 United States, to procure a liberal supply of water 
 at all times of the day and night in my bedcham- 
 ber than to obtain any other necessary. A supply 
 for washing the hands and face once a day seems 
 all that is thought requisite."* Though the tra- 
 veller's censure applies with its full force to some 
 parts of his own country, we may take a useful 
 hint, and amend our ways. 
 
 The two great considerations which recommend 
 the bath are its influence, first, on cleanliness, and, 
 next, on health ; and the latter is in a great degree 
 dependent on the former. " Cleanliness," as John 
 Wesley is reported to have said, " is the next 
 thing to godliness ;" and such is the connexion 
 between outward and inward purity, that, in all 
 
 Stuart's Three Years in America, vol. ii. p. 440.
 
 BATHS, AND CLEANLINESS. 169 
 
 religions, the one has been the symbol of the 
 other. Of course, those who work hard and per- 
 spire copiously, have more need of care in this 
 particular than others. To the artisan, therefore, 
 the bath is a double advantage, a double luxury. 
 All trades, however, are not alike. There are 
 some in which the operative cannot pretend to be 
 clean, while he is actually employed ; to attempt 
 it would be affectation ; but there is the more rea- 
 son why he should enjoy the feeling of perfect 
 cleanliness when work is over. The watchmaker* 
 or the trimmer may be almost as neat as a lady ; 
 but there are none who are entirely exempt from 
 the need of water. Some there are who are 
 scarcely aware of the extent to which their skin 
 has become clogged by the successive perspira- 
 tions and depositions of years. They might form 
 some idea of the fact if they should scrape the sur- 
 face with a dull knife, by which the accumulated 
 outer skin would come off in a scurf of branny 
 powder. It is too common with certain persons, 
 to wash only for the public, and to cleanse only 
 what is visible. 
 
 If we were brought up in proper notions on this 
 subject, and knew when we were comfortable, 
 we should feel as much necessity for water to our 
 bodies as to our faces ; and a bathing-house, or at 
 least a bathing-tub, would be as indispensable as 
 a wash-basin. An eminent German physician, 
 Hufeland, tells us, that "every Sunday evening 
 people formerly went in procession through the 
 15
 
 170 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 streets, beating on basins, to remind the labourers 
 of bathing ; and the tradesman, who laboured at 
 dirty work, washed off, in the bath, that dirt, 
 which now adheres to him during a long life." 
 Only he who has made the experiment can know 
 how delicious is the feeling produced by a tho- 
 rough warm ablution, after a day of heat and exer- 
 tion. " To wash one's self," says one of our 
 own eminent medical authorities, " ought to have 
 a much more extended meaning than people gene- 
 rally attach to the words. It should not consist 
 merely in washing the hands, and rubbing a wet 
 towel over the face, and sometimes the neck ; the 
 ablution ought to extend over the entire surface, 
 and it is particularly necessary where often least 
 thought of, as at the bends of the limbs, &c. In 
 a tepid bath, with the aid of a little soap and a 
 sponge, or brush, the process may be completely 
 performed with a feeling of comfort at the mo- 
 ment, and of much pleasure afterwards."* 
 
 If bathing affords so much comfort, it conduces 
 not less to health. No man can be in health 
 whose skin is out of order. This is beginning 
 to be acknowledged by all who think and write 
 upon the human system. It is the skin which is 
 the seat of perspiration, of which about thirty- 
 three ounces pass through every twenty-four 
 hours ; even when there is no visible moisture 
 
 * Dr. John Bell, on Baths and Mineral Waters; a learned 
 and judicious work, to which I am indebted for most that 
 is valuable in this essay.
 
 BATHS AND CLEANLINESS. 171 
 
 on the surface. The skin is the regulator of ani- 
 mal heat; it is a great absorbent, and takes in 
 again much of the corrupt matter left in contact 
 with it by want of cleanliness. It is in close con- 
 nexion with almost every important function of 
 the system. A glance at these facts will show 
 that it requires daily attention. But some will be 
 surprised to learn further, that this wonderful 
 covering has other no less important offices. It 
 not only lets out liquid, but it takes in airs, as 
 well as watery vapour : so that it may almost be 
 said to play the part of the lungs, by secreting and 
 absorbing the same gases. In some animals, in- 
 deed, as in the leech, all the breathing is done by 
 the skin, and you may kill a frog as effectually by 
 varnishing him all over, as by tearing out his 
 lungs. The filthy covering of an unwashed per- 
 son is not unlike such a varnish, and he who 
 never bathes labours under a sort of half-suffoca- 
 tion. The outer scurf which we may scrape 
 away is a deposition from the true or inner skin. 
 A good washing and rubbing softens this outer 
 skin, and makes it easy to rub off the dead parts 
 with a brush or hard towel. In this respect, all 
 baths, of whatever temperature, are useful. The 
 surface is cleansed and freed from obstructions, 
 and a way is cleared for the passage of the proper 
 fluids and gases. On a subject so important, I 
 trust these little details will not be thought either 
 dry or unnecessary. 
 
 The cold bath is the most natural, and the most
 
 172 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 easily taken, but it is not always proper or safe. 
 There are some I know who recommend it indis- 
 criminately to all persons, at all seasons ; but 
 such is not the counsel of wise physicians. " In 
 proportion," says Dr. Combe, " as cold bathing 
 is influential in the restoration of health when 
 judiciously used, it is hurtful when resorted to 
 without discrimination." " Many persons," says 
 Dr. Bell, " in even vigorous health, cannot tolerate 
 Jhe cold bath for the shortest period, still less can 
 they habitually use it with benefit. Even they 
 who have accustomed themselves to it are in dan- 
 ger from the practice, if it be continued after any 
 sudden diminution of vital energy, by whatever 
 cause produced." The same learned author re- 
 jects the vulgar notion that cold bathing is either 
 a tonic or a stimulant, and teaches us, that what 
 some- are pleased to consider a reaction after the 
 application of cold, is no such thing, and that the 
 skin is not actually warmer at this time than 
 before. He therefore comes to the same conclu- 
 sion with the great ancient Galen, that the cold 
 bath is proper for persons in perfect health, and 
 for fleshy ones, for the temperate and those who 
 use due exercise ; that the proper season for it is 
 summer, and that one must be gradually accus- 
 tomed to it. But neither he nor the most timid 
 adviser would debar the manly swimmer from 
 plunging into the stream, or still better from indulg- 
 ing in that exquisite refreshment, the dash of the 
 surf upon the sea-shore.
 
 BATHS AND CLEANLINESS. 173 
 
 Both the eminent physicians whom I have 
 quoted recommend for habitual use the tepid or 
 warm bath. A temperature ranging from 85 to 
 98 is named by Dr. Combe. The best rule is 
 to avoid the positive impressions, either of heat or 
 cold. The effect is at once tranquillizing and 
 invigorating, in a high degree. Nothing can savour 
 more of ignorance, or be less agreeable to expe- 
 rience, than the notion of some, that the warm bath 
 is enfeebling. From the earliest ages it has been 
 the restorative of the exhausted traveller, and the 
 writer of these lines can never forget its magical 
 effect after a wearisome journey of some hundreds 
 of miles. Darwin reminds us, that the words 
 relaxing and bracing, which are generally used 
 in relation to warm and cold baths, are mechani- 
 cal terms, properly applied to drums or strings ; 
 but are only metaphors, when applied to this sub- 
 ject. After a long day's work the warm bath is a 
 thousand-fold better than strong liquors. Bruce, 
 in his travels in Abyssinia, tells us, that when he 
 felt an intolerable inward heat, and was so exhaust- 
 ed as to be ready to faint, he was made as fresh 
 and strong by a warm bath, as on his rising in the 
 morning. " Some persons may tell me," says he, 
 " that the heat of the bath must weaken and ener- 
 vate, but I can assure them that the reverse is the 
 case." Our celebrated countryman, Count Rum- 
 ford, once repaired to Harrowgate, in a feeble 
 state of health. Such was his fear of taking cold 
 from the warm bath, that he used it only once in 
 15*
 
 174 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 three days, for less than fifteen minutes, and 
 always went from it to a warm bed. Finding 
 this unprofitable, he reversed his method, and 
 bathed every day, at two o'clock, for half an hour, 
 at 96 and 97 of Fahrenheit, for thirty-five days 
 to'gether. " The salutary effects of this experi- 
 ment," he adds, " were perfectly evident to all 
 those who were present, and saw the progress of 
 it ; and the advantages I received from it have 
 been permanent. The good state of health which 
 I have since enjoyed, I attribute to it entirely." 
 The same philosopher exposes the mistake of 
 those who avoid the warm bath for fear of catch- 
 ing cold ; as, indeed, one has no more occasion to 
 dread catching cold after having been in a warm 
 bath, than from going out of doors into the air of 
 a frosty morning. " There are few," says Dr. 
 Combe, " who do not derive evident advantage 
 from the regular use of the tepid bath, and still 
 fewer who are hurt by it." 
 
 It is one of the great advantages of a residence 
 in the city of Philadelphia, that there is not only 
 an abundant supply of water, but that all the 
 better class of houses are provided with bathing- 
 rooms, in which either cold or warm baths may 
 be taken. And even those who are without these 
 conveniences, may have easy access to public 
 baths. Or, in the worst imaginable case, a tub 
 of warm water, a piece of soap, a sponge, and a 
 hard towel may be found in the house of any man 
 who wishes to cleanse his person.
 
 INTEMPERANCE AND DISEASE. 175 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 INTEMPERANCE AND DISEASE. 
 
 " Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
 I would not taste thy treasonous offer ; none 
 But such as are good men can give good things, 
 And that which is not good, is not delicious 
 To a well-governed and wise appetite." 
 
 MILTOIT. 
 
 IN looking over a book upon the effects of 
 different trades upon health and long life,* I was 
 struck with the repeated statement that such and 
 such occupations would be less unhealthy, if it 
 were not for the liquor drunk by the workmen. 
 This, thought I, is very unfair : why blame the 
 trade, when the fault all lies in the drink ? We 
 may lay it down as a principle, that of honest 
 employments, there is not one in fifty which is 
 hurtful to the health of a temperate and prudent 
 man ; but if men will still be mad enough to 
 guzzle beer or whisky, they may destroy them- 
 
 * The Effects of the Pnncipal Arts, Trades, and Profes- 
 sions, and of civic states and habits of living, on Health and 
 Longevity : &c. &c. by C. Turner Thackrah. Philadelphia, 
 1831.
 
 176 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 selves amidst the most wholesome circumstances 
 in the world. 
 
 The book I spoke of, though small in size, con- 
 tains much information on this important subject. 
 Let me advert to some instances of the kind men- 
 tioned above. Of coachmen and other drivers, 
 Mr. Thackrah says that their exposure to the 
 weather is thought to produce rheumatism and in- 
 flammation of the lungs. " I conceive, however," 
 he adds, "that these diseases would rarely occur 
 to abstemious men. It is intemperance which 
 gives the susceptibility to such maladies ; and it 
 is intemperance which produces much greater." 
 And here he speaks of morning-sickness ; disease 
 of the stomach and head ; apoplexy and palsy. 
 In regard to another trade, he says : " Though 
 temperate millwrights are healthy, and continue 
 their employ to a great age, often even to that of 
 sixty, there is another class, who fit up the shafts 
 and wheels, to convey the power from the steam- 
 engine to the machinery, and who suffer from 
 their debauched habit of life. These men earn 
 high wages ; take much of that pernicious com- 
 pound called ale, and sometimes even drams in 
 addition, and are moreover off work at the pot- 
 house two or three days in the week. Such men, 
 of course, are unhealthy and short-lived." These 
 remarks may be applied to many classes of ope- 
 ratives in America, who receive high wages, and 
 are not required to keep honrs. For there ia 
 nothing more conducive to health and good habits
 
 INTEMPERANCE AND DISEASE. 177 
 
 than for a man to have such employment and such 
 pay as shall make it necessary for him to be mo- 
 derately engaged every day. 
 
 A master pocketbook-maker informed our au- 
 thor that several of his people had died from 
 consumption. " This, however," says he, " I 
 should attribute not to the employ, but to intem- 
 perance." When blacksmiths are ill, " the cause 
 is most frequently intemperance." Of hatters, he 
 tells us, " they are often intemperate and short- 
 lived." And of brewers, who are commonly re- 
 garded as patterns of portly strength, Mr. Thackrah 
 observes : " As a body, they are far from healthy. 
 Under a robust and often florid appearance, they 
 conceal chronic disorders of the abdomen, particu- 
 larly a congested (overfull) state of the venous 
 system. When these men are accidentally hurt 
 or wounded, they are more liable than other indi- 
 viduals to severe and dangerous effects. The 
 ill-health of brewers is, however, evidently 
 attributable to their habitual and unnecessary 
 potation of beer." 
 
 After such statements as these, we need not be 
 surprised when this judicious medical man comes 
 to the conclusion, that intemperance is the grand 
 bane of civilized life. These observations were 
 made nearly twenty years ago in the populous 
 town of Leeds, and are therefore introduced here 
 in preference to still stronger statements more 
 near to us in time and place ; as it is common to 
 suspect the latter as coloured by zeal for a popular
 
 178 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 enterprise. In regard to mere health, then, it ap- 
 pears, that intoxicating- drinks are unnecessary and 
 noxious. To him who uses them, no circum- 
 stances can ensure health : to him who abstains, 
 even great exposure is usually harmless. The 
 first rule of health to be inculcated on our 
 children, apprentices, and families, is to live 
 without drink. 
 
 Here is work for masters and employers. 
 Surely they have an accountability in this matter 
 to God and to man. The apprentice and even 
 the journeyman are, and ever ought to be under 
 some control ; and the more fully the master 
 sustains to them the part of a father, the greater 
 will this control be. It will be an evil day for 
 our land when either party shall feel that this 
 bond is loosed. Let the household links be 
 broken, and the political chain will have no binding 
 force. If we wish such a reformation as shall 
 make and keep our rising race virtuous and happy, 
 we must begin at home, and masters must take 
 some steps which are now unpopular. The vices 
 of journeymen fall, with part of their burden, on 
 master -workmen. As Mr. Thackrah very justly 
 says, the latter may do much to lessen this great 
 evil of intemperance. Does any one ask what 
 can the master do ? I reply, he can bring up his 
 boys in good principles. He can press upon them 
 the precepts of the Bible. He can correct their 
 youthful errors. He can set them an example of 
 rigid temperance. He can see that they spend
 
 INTEMPERANCE AN1) DISEASE. 179 
 
 their evenings and their Sundays at home, in 
 reading, or in some useful amusements. He can 
 open facilities for them to enjoy the advantages 
 of night-schools, libraries, Sunday-schools, Bible- 
 classes, and lyceums. Is it asked what can he 
 do for journeymen? I reply, some of these 
 same things ; for a man's being a journeyman does 
 not put him beyond the reach of good advice or 
 good example. But, over and above this, I adopt 
 our author's language : " Let the master discharge 
 from his employ every man who ' breaks work ;' 
 nay, let him admonish, and afterwards discharge 
 every man who spends his evenings at the ale- 
 house, or calls at the dram-shop. This is, in 
 fact, the great point : for the evil is curable at the 
 beginning." I anticipate what will be said about 
 the difference between the state of things here and 
 in the old country ; about the independence of opera- 
 tives, and the scarcity of skilled labour. Never- 
 theless every employer, who has patronage, is 
 responsible to society and to God for the manner 
 in which he employs it. He may not lord it over 
 his men, but he has a right to know how and 
 where they spend their evenings ; for the plain 
 reason that his own interests are involved in it. 
 The inquiry is not always agreeable ; nay, it will 
 often give great offence ; but what then ? Is the 
 truly benevolent man to do nothing which is dis- 
 agreeable ? Of a truth, we are not so delicate in 
 the collection of a debt, or the prosecution of a 
 claim. These lions are chiefly in the way of our
 
 180 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 benevolent efforts. Until the law of the land shall 
 render us more effectual aid, by erecting dykes 
 against this flood of evil, every good man will do 
 what he can to keep it out of his own doors. 
 
 The place where health, fortune, character, and 
 happiness are lost, is the tavern. In their origin, 
 public houses were places for the entertainment of 
 the weary traveller ; no object could be more be- 
 nevolent. But they have become, by the change 
 of times, chiefly remarkable as dens of drunken- 
 ness. Take away the bar, and in most cases you 
 take away the publican's livelihood. But even 
 now, if taverns were frequented chiefly by way- 
 faring-men, it were well. But, far from this, they 
 are sources of temptation and ruin to the neigh 
 bourhood. Where must you go to find the black 
 leg, the drunkard, and the bully ? To the tavern 
 Where is the young man who is never in his own 
 shop, and whose shabby coat and anxious eye 
 betoken debt and danger ? In the tavern. Where 
 were the journeymen and apprentices last night, 
 who are this morning haggard and sallow, yawn- 
 ing and hiccuping over their work ? At the 
 tavern. I must in justice say, that I know inn- 
 keepers who are temperate, orderly men, and 
 good citizens, and who deplore this state of things; 
 and I know houses to which these remarks do not 
 apply ; but in the greater number of cases, the 
 bar-room is the way to destruction ; and to say 
 that a man is often seen hanging about the tavern 
 porch, under whatever pretence of business, is to
 
 INTEMPERANCE AND DISEASE. 181 
 
 say that his work is neglected, his habits declining, 
 and his company detestable. 
 
 In these and similar observations, I purposely 
 avoid all mention of Temperance societies and 
 their pledges, not because I am indifferent to the 
 success of their endeavours, but because I wish 
 to reach even those who do not admit the prin- 
 ciple of these associations in its full extent. The 
 sentiments which are here expressed, have been 
 entertained by thoughtful men for scores of years; 
 nor do I see how they can be rejected by any one 
 who loves his country. Some of the happiest 
 changes I have ever known have been wrought in 
 men who have escaped the snare of strong drink. 
 Such a one is PHELPS the coach-painter. Time 
 was when he thought his paint would kill him 
 outright, but for his brandy ; and he could not 
 conceive how he could be merry with a couple of 
 friends, except over a bottle. He sang a good 
 song, and, being a musician, used to be the life of 
 the tavern suppers. Some of his bacchanal 
 staves may still be heard at midnight by those 
 who pass by the Bull's Head. Phelps had been 
 well schooled, and sometimes wrote verses. But 
 his eyes became weak, and his nose red, and the 
 palette began to shake on his thumb. This did 
 not arouse him, until his only son Ned was 
 brought home drunk. He had fondly imagined 
 that the boy had never seen him drink : it is the 
 folly of many a parent, who rears a household of 
 drunkards. That night Phelps broke every bottle 
 16
 
 182 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 in his cellar. Last week I dined with him, and 
 he sang me the following verses of his own 
 making, over a goblet of excellent lemonade. 
 
 When the glass sparkles, and the group 
 
 Of wassail gathers there ; 
 Though friends invite, though spirits droop, 
 
 Tis Wisdom cries, BEWARE ! 
 
 Be it the juice of tortured grain 
 
 Which foaming tankards bear, 
 Or distillation of sweet-cane, 
 
 'Tis perilous BEWARE ! 
 
 Or should ripe clusters pour a flood 
 
 Whose varying hues compare 
 With gems, or Tyrian dye, or blood, 
 
 'Tis wine that mocks BEWAHE ! 
 
 But doubly fly that fiery stream, 
 
 Forced by perverted care, 
 Through tortuous pipe, in pungent steam ; 
 
 Those drops are death BEWAKE ! 
 
 Howe'er the Tempter drug his bowl, 
 
 Or mix his potions fair, 
 Why shouldst thou jeopard thus thy soul 1 
 
 Madness is near BEWARE !
 
 MONET. 183 
 
 XXX. 
 
 MONEY. 
 
 " Yet to be just to these poor men of pelf, 
 Each does but hate his neighbour as himself: 
 Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides 
 The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides." 
 
 POPE. 
 
 THE good and the evil of money are the subject 
 of our daily conversation, and neither can well be 
 represented as greater than it is. The same book 
 of wisdom which declares to us that " money an- 
 swereth all things," warns us that the love of it is 
 a " root of all evil." We love what costs us 
 pains ; our own work, or the fruit of it ; our own 
 little garden rather than our neighbour's hot-house. 
 It is, therefore, constantly observed that it is hard 
 to wring money out of the hands of one who has 
 earned it by little and little. Look at the farmer ; 
 even if he owns thousands of acres, he is some- 
 times startled at a call for the disbursement of 
 twenty dollars : while the merchant, who gains 
 and loses by fifties and hundreds, will transfer ten 
 thousand dollars' worth of stock in five minutes. 
 Women, who seldom dear creatures have the 
 handling of large sums, are more frugal in the 
 disposition of their means, than their more hard-
 
 184 THE WOBKING-MAN. 
 
 hearted husbands. Hence the great moralist avers 
 that mendicants seldom beg of women. How- 
 ever this may be, it is undeniable that where 
 money is hardly got, it is sure to be prized suffi- 
 ciently. Let a man work hard for his dollar and 
 he will be in danger of setting too high a value 
 upon it ; and thus, by imperceptible degrees, fru- 
 gality grows into avarice and thrift into meanness. 
 
 It is not the mere coin, the material gold, silver, 
 copper, and alloy that we love ; at least in the 
 outset. The miser, who is a possessed man, may 
 transfer his regards to the sign from the thing sig- 
 nified, and gloat over dollars and doubloons ; but 
 what the most love is what the money will bring. 
 To use a large word, it is the potentiality of hap- 
 piness. We turn every thing into money. We 
 measure every thing by money. It is money 
 which marks the injury done by a slander or a 
 blow. As we measure the force of an engine by 
 horse-power, so we measure an honourable office 
 by dollars. Men value their lives at certain sums, 
 and persons could be found who would be bribed 
 to run the risk of being bit by a mad dog. In 
 consequence of this universal applicability of 
 money as the measure of value, it comes to stand 
 for the things which it measures. We look with 
 complacency on the key which unlocks our trea- 
 sures ; and gaze on a dirty bank-note, which is 
 only a rag. 
 
 In Pitcairn's island, at the latest accounts, there 
 was no money, nor any need of it. Hut does it
 
 MONET. 185 
 
 follow that there can be no avarice there ? I think 
 not. The passion may look beyond the medium 
 to the end in view, but it is still the same. The 
 dislike to part with our cash, when reduced to its 
 principles, is a mode of selfishness. It is only 
 one aspect of our love of the things which money 
 will buy. If any man would guaranty to us all 
 these things for life, we would freely give him the 
 money. Hence the moral evils of avarice. But 
 for this the love of gold would be as innocent as 
 the love of roses and lilies. 
 
 Bat even on the selfish principle, I have some- 
 times thought that a more refined and profound 
 view of the matter would loosen our hold on the 
 purse. By pinching hard we hurt nobody but 
 ourselves. Every one sees that if a man spends 
 none of his money, he is wretched ; hence the 
 name miser, which is only the Latin for a wretch. 
 But many make it the business of their lives to 
 come as near this as they can. They sail as near 
 the wind as is possible. Sound economy will teach 
 a man that a liberal outlay of money is in some 
 cases no more a loss, than a liberal sowing of 
 wheat. STOLIDO has adopted the saving maxim 
 never to cut the packthread of a parcel, but al- 
 ways to untie it : he therefore fumbles at a hard 
 knot for ten minutes, in which he could have 
 earned the worth of ten such packthreads. BASSO 
 grudges sixpence for a dose of physic, and in the 
 end loses six weeks. We all agree that time is 
 money. Why so? Because time will procure 
 16*
 
 186 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 us money, or, what is the same, money's worth. 
 But we are not so ready to admit, though it is 
 equally true, that health is money that temper- 
 ance is money that good habits are money 
 that character is money. Nay, I go further than 
 this : if we must value every thing by this merce- 
 nary standard, then I say, ease is money, because 
 it is worth money, and we labour all our life to 
 earn it. Comfort is money, and happiness is 
 money. 
 
 These remarks are certainly not intended to 
 foster the disposition to estimate every thing by 
 pounds, shillings, and pence. God forbid ! Our 
 money-making nation needs no spur in their race : 
 we are already pointed at by the finger of nations. 
 But as the world's ready reckoners insist on 
 gauging human bliss by this rule, I wish to show 
 that on their own principles a man may be too 
 saving. Even the rule of the usurer in the old 
 play,* which was short enough to be engraven on 
 his ring, and which is engraven on many a heart, 
 Tu tibi cura, " Take care of number one," is 
 often violated by unwise parsimony. We may be 
 sparing to our damage. There are better things 
 than money. O that I could ring it through every 
 shop, factory, and counting-house of my country ! 
 There is good which gold cannot buy, and which 
 to barter for gold were ruin. It cannot buy the 
 kindly affections of the fireside. It cannot buy 
 
 The " Groat's Worth of Wit," by Robert Green.
 
 MONET. 187 
 
 the blessings of friendship. It cannot buy the 
 serene comforts of virtue, the quiet of conscience, 
 the joys of religion. This lesson should be in- 
 culcated on the young. It is idle to fear that such 
 a lesson will make them careless or profuse. It 
 is a lesson opposed, not to frugality, but to parsi- 
 mony. Those who learn it will not hoard, but 
 neither will they squander. They will look on 
 money, not as an ultimate good, but as the repre- 
 sentative of purchasable advantages ; and they 
 will count it as nothing when put in the opposite 
 scale to moral and eternal things, which are above 
 all price.
 
 188 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 RISKS AND SPECULATIONS. 
 
 " Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 OF all the ways of making money, that which 
 belongs to a man's proper 'trade or business is the 
 safest, easiest, and most honest. He who would, 
 even in a worldly sense, prosper, must let many 
 gay chances of wealth flit before him, without 
 drawing him from his daily work. This, how- 
 ever, is very much against the spirit of the age. 
 To become rich by sudden leaps is more attrac- 
 tive than to plod on for years with scarcely per- 
 ceptible gains. Yet the truly solid men are those 
 who have pursued the latter course. It is not too 
 much to say, that at the time of this present writ- 
 ing, there are a thousand mechanics, manufacturers, 
 and small tradesmen, who are trying to become 
 rich by what they call speculation. Some, in a 
 low sphere, deal in horses. Though this is not 
 their trade, they are perpetually driving some 
 bargain, or making some match, or showing off 
 the paces of some famous roadster. It becomes
 
 RISKS AND SPECULATIONS. 189 
 
 a passion, business is neglected ; and, so far 
 as my observation goes, horse-dealers do not 
 always maintain the purest character for straight- 
 forward conduct. Some are, or were, very full 
 of buying and selling lots about our growing 
 towns and cities. Others are all for granite-quar- 
 ries. While many behold visions of untold 
 wealth in the silk business, and forsake their own 
 calling, to plant acres of the Chinese mulberry. 
 One in fifty of these draws a prize ; the rest, 
 after some months of suspense, sit down with 
 blanks, and find their proper business near to ruin. 
 
 These hopes commonly lead to expensive 
 habits, unknown to the artisans of former days. 
 Hence, my friend Mrs. BATES used often to re- 
 mind her son Arthur of his father's frugality. 
 " Dear mother," cried Arthur, on one of these 
 occasions, with a face of great vexation, " pray, 
 pray, don't quote my good father any more. The 
 next thing will be to rig me out in his white 
 neckcloth and small-clothes." 
 
 " Arthur," said the old lady, with tears in her 
 eyes, " the image which has been before my mind 
 for forty years, will sometimes be in your way ; 
 but bear with me, and I will not say any more 
 about your father." 
 
 " Say what you please," said the relenting son. 
 
 " All I have to say is this : you know that your 
 father was a thriving mechanic he had no ambi- 
 tion to be more he became wealthy, as you 
 might now have been, but for the rash adventure
 
 190 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 of your two uncles, in 1815, which swept away 
 our property. When your father began life, how- 
 ever, as you are now doing, he was frugal and 
 domestic ; he stuck to his trade ; and after his 
 great reverse, he returned to the habits of his 
 youth. His maxim was, Waste nothing risk 
 nothing borrow nothing." 
 
 "Exactly, and had he lived to this day, he 
 would have felt, as I feel, the change of times, 
 and would think as little of owing five hundred 
 dollars, as he did of borrowing a pinch of 
 snuff." 
 
 " Arthur," said the good old woman, smiling 
 with the consciousness of experience, " the 
 maxims of economy do not change with the 
 fashions. They go by the nature of things." 
 
 " Surely, madam, money is not now what 
 money was before the Revolution !" 
 
 " Perhaps not, in a certain sense ; but, as the 
 shopkeepers say, money is money. Bread, and 
 clothes, and fuel, are not got for nothing. You 
 talk of credit : credit implies borrowing ; and 
 borrowing implies paying. Creditors are made 
 of no milder stuff than when I was a girl ; and, 
 for all that I can see, a cistern that is always run- 
 ning and never receiving is as like to run dry as 
 any cistern of the olden time. To be plain 
 what was the occasion of your haste in visiting 
 New York, yesterday ?" 
 
 " Then, to answer plainly, in my turn, though 
 I am sure you are going to misunderstand it, it
 
 RISKS AND SPECULATIONS. 191 
 
 was to see several of my friends in William 
 street." 
 
 " Ah ! and why so anxious to see them at this, 
 the busiest season of your trade ?" 
 
 " You press me but I will be frank it was to 
 get a lift in the pecuniary way common thing- 
 to meet an arrangement a mere trifle a name 
 or two was all I wanted a-hem a little mat- 
 ter in " 
 
 " In bank, you would say, my son. Speak it out. 
 I understand you. Now consider ; what change 
 has come over the plain old-fashioned business of 
 coach-making, that you should need to be a bor- 
 rower? Let an old woman tell your fortune 
 your intimacy with banks will end in your being 
 a bankrupt." 
 
 With a blush and a sneer, Arthur went to his 
 drying-room, then to his trimming-room, then to 
 his counting-room, and then to the open air ; but 
 nowhere could he fix his attention. He had be- 
 come a borrower. He kept his horses and his 
 dogs, and gave dinners, and went to the springs. 
 To meet this expense, he had several little specu- 
 lations, added to his regular trade. Instead of 
 straitening his expenses to suit his means, he 
 plunged into new indulgences ; and to meet their 
 cost, he drew upon future and unreal gains. In 
 America, perhaps, more than elsewhere, it is very 
 common to find mechanics, and even professional 
 and salaried men, falling into embarrassments, to 
 which formerly only mercantile adventurers were
 
 192 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 thought liable. How can a young man sit down 
 at his desk, or examine his books, when every 
 paper and almost every knock remind him that 
 he is in debt ? Arthur Bates was oftener in the 
 street than in his shop ; and every part of his 
 proper business became distasteful to him. He 
 was often seen in the humbling situation of a vex- 
 atious supplicant at the doors of men who were 
 far below him in every scale but that of dollars 
 and cents. He who becomes a borrower cannot 
 foretell at what point of the descent he will stop. 
 From a custom it grows into a habit. The first 
 plunge is the most revolting ; after that, the 
 smooth lapse becomes smoother with each suc- 
 cessive yielding. 
 
 Borrowing became so easy with Arthur, that 
 he began to scribble on his waste papers the 
 goodly proverbs, " Nothing venture, nothing 
 lose," and " In for a penny, in for a pound." To 
 one so diseased, no stimulant can be worse than a 
 morning paper : it offers schemes of wealth on 
 every page. These have a great charm for the 
 man who feels that nothing but a grand " opera- 
 tion" can get him out of the slough, and who, at 
 the same time, reads of thousands realized on lots 
 at Brooklyn, Brighton, and Chicago, or by sales 
 of granite or mulberries. True, these things have 
 had their day ; but so will other things. In pro- 
 cess of time, Arthur Bates removed from a 
 thriving country town to the great metropolis. 
 No one who knows the world will be surprised at
 
 RISKS AND SPECULATIONS. 193 
 
 the change. It is not long since I could have 
 named a round dozen of young men, attorneys, 
 mechanics, and even doctors, who had closed 
 their shops and offices, and gone into speculation. 
 Arthur had entered the Alsatia of borrowing. 
 After many fruitless attempts, he despaired of 
 making his simple mother comprehend how a 
 man may live and do well, without any regular 
 business ; or how these rapid turns of the wheel 
 differed from gambling. He descanted to her 
 upon the credit system, the rise of property, the 
 diversities of script, and the fortunes made by 
 happy investments. He unrolled before her 
 without effect, lithographic maps of unbuilt cities 
 in the West, or of Venices to be conjured up, in 
 the North River ; he turned her into stone, with 
 calculations about the sugar beet and the morus 
 multicaulis. Poor Mrs. Bates was too old to 
 mend, and read out of her old book, that the bor- 
 rower is servant to the lender.* In these de- 
 bates Arthur was aided by a new friend of his, 
 Peleg Peck, Esq. Mr. Peck was a son of the 
 house of Peck, Pigeon, and Fitch, in Pearl street. 
 After the usual time spent in billiards and dra- 
 matic criticism, and after being bowed out of his 
 father's counting-house by the elder partner, Mr. 
 George W. Pigeon of Providence, he opened a 
 livery stable at Brooklyn. Thence, by some un- 
 explained change, he became booking-clerk in a 
 stage-office in Market street, Philadelphia, and his 
 *_Prov. xxii. 7. 
 17
 
 194 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 last ostensible calling was that of clerk in a Mis- 
 sissippi steamboat. But he had seen wonders in 
 the great West, and had come back to engage 
 other adventurers. It was after a dialogue be- 
 tween Mr. Peck and Arthur, that the latter hastily 
 entered his mother's parlour. " Why so flurried, 
 my son ?" said Mrs. Bates, as her son threw him- 
 self into an elbow chair. " Dearest mother! nothing 
 uncommon, I assure you. But one who belongs 
 to the world cannot but partake of its great con- 
 cussions. The motions of the great sea reach 
 even our little creeks." 
 
 " Pray, come down from your stilts, Arthur : 
 you used wiser as well as plainer talk when you 
 were a well-doing carriage-maker. Surely your 
 connexions with the moneyed world are slight." 
 
 " Ah ! there it is, again. Your notions are out 
 of date. Indeed, mother, I do not know that you 
 have got the least insight into the great modern 
 system of debt and credit." 
 
 " Be it so, my dear. Take a glass of water, 
 and give me such lessons as suit my simplicity. 
 But observe, before you begin, that I am not in 
 my dotage yet, and that I have long observed that 
 there is no subject on which men can talk longer 
 without ideas, than on this same matter of credit, 
 stocks, banks, and speculation. But perhaps you 
 can trade in the same way without capital." 
 
 " No jests, I entreat. In sober earnestness 
 there is a great pressure a panic, you may say 
 Wall street like the mouth of a bee-hive in June
 
 RISKS AND SPECULATIONS. 195 
 
 Three houses shut up this morning in Pearl 
 street and I have every reason to believe that the 
 fall of cotton has ruined Cromwell and Zebulons 
 of Mobile, which will drag down Grubbs, Ish- 
 mael, and Grubbs." 
 
 " Hold ! hold ! my son, what has come over 
 you ! Panic Wall street Ishmael ! And what 
 concern can you have with these affairs ? You 
 are not a bank-director, a broker, or a Jew." 
 
 " True, my dear mother true but let me ex- 
 plain. The modern system is so bound that is, 
 such is the concatenation just to think, that bills 
 on London are no longer in a word, money is so 
 scarce. But your old notions are so queer, that I 
 shall seem ridiculous." 
 
 " Indeed you do," said Mrs. Bates, drawing 
 herself up with some sternness. " Indeed you 
 do. This rigmarole is a mere screen for igno- 
 rance yes, pardon a mother's plainness for 
 your ignorance of this complicated system of 
 licensed gambling. Like too many, you have 
 neglected your proper business ; you have tried 
 to retrieve matters, by unwarrantable means ; and 
 now, in your embarrassments, you are trying to 
 lay all the blame on public measures, banks, and 
 brokers. A plain mechanical business, as thrifty 
 as yours was, needs no such connexions. What 
 did your poor father know of banks ? Yet he 
 was worth his forty thousand dollars, just before 
 his two younger brothers decoyed him into a 
 share in their liabilities. Arthur, I see your des-
 
 196 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 perate game. I have seen it long. You have 
 failed to grow rich by slow earnings. You have 
 borrowed to support your needless expenses. You 
 have filled one vessel from another, neither of 
 them being your own. You are now staking all 
 your credit on these paltry speculations. You 
 have become a mere borrower ; a borrower of 
 what you can never pay." 
 
 I am not writing a biography, and therefore it 
 will be enough to say, that Arthur Bates has for 
 two years been clerk in the counting-room of the 
 establishment owned by his father ; a poor but 
 honest man, and deeply penitent for his follies.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN WANT. 197 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN WANT. 
 " He that is down needs fear no fall." BUWYAW. 
 
 THERE is not, perhaps, a country in the 
 world where the extremes of human condition are 
 less frequent than in our own : we are unac- 
 quainted alike with princely wealth and abject 
 wretchedness. Yet even here it is not always 
 sunshine, even with the honest, temperate, and 
 industrious. As a general rule, indeed, any man 
 of ordinary health, strength, and capacity, can 
 make his living, if he chooses : but there are ex- 
 ceptions to the rule. It would be as absurd as it 
 is inhuman to consider all poverty as the result of 
 vice. The contrary is manifest every day. All 
 men are fallible in judgment, and may fall into 
 wrong projects. The best plans may fail from 
 uncontrollable circumstances. The incapacity of 
 a partner or an agent, or the fraud of a neighbour, 
 or some sudden change in the price of an article, 
 in the demand for a particular fabric, or even in 
 the most trifling fashion, is often sufficient to bring 
 to penury such as have never laid up any thing. 
 But the case is so plain in the eyes of all observing 
 17*
 
 198 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 and benevolent men, that I shall not dwell on this 
 point, but confine myself to a few suggestions for 
 those who, by whatever path, have got to the bot- 
 tom of the hill. 
 
 My friend, let me take you by the hand : I like 
 the pressure of a poor man's hand, and I am not 
 one of those Pharisaical helpers who can see 
 nothing to pity where there is any thing to blame. 
 It is enough for me that you are in straits : I ask 
 not how you came there. But, let me whisper 
 it might be well if you would ask it yourself. Per- 
 haps you have been lavish, when you had abun- 
 dance. Perhaps you have been idle, or improvi- 
 dent ; or your children have been too fine, or your 
 wife has haunted auctions. Or, peradventure, you 
 have been too fond of a horse or a gun ; or the 
 coin has found its way from your till into the bar- 
 room or the eating-house ; or you have been a 
 customer of the brewer, or the tobacconist. No 
 matter whatever the wrong step may have been, 
 the course of wisdom is for you to learn by expe- 
 rience. Dread the fire which has scorched you ; 
 perhaps it is the best and the cheapest lesson you 
 ever had. Now, when you are cool and collected, 
 in the shades of the valley, take a survey of the 
 path which you ought to have trodden, and make 
 np your mind to choose and to pursue it. 
 
 Be sure not to listen to the voice of pride. 
 This is what barbs the arrow of poverty. True, 
 if you are in absolute want, and near starvation, 
 there will be wo enough even without pride. But
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN WANT. 199 
 
 in the great majority of reverses, the feeling of 
 mortification is the worst part. If you have 
 enough to support nature, and are doing all "that is 
 in your power, banish the consideration of other 
 people's thoughts, which cannot make your case 
 either better or worse. With a good conscience, 
 you may safely leave your case to the care of Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 You are, it is true, at the foot of the ladder ; 
 but what then ? The way up is just the same as 
 before. Never despond ; this is the grand rule, 
 and I repeat it, never despond. The most suc- 
 cessful men have had their reverses. " Try 
 again," is a good motto, and your condition must 
 be bad indeed, if this does not set you right. At 
 any rate, brooding over losses cannot repair them. 
 Your melancholy feelings can do you no good, 
 and will do you much harm. Despondency strikes 
 a palsy into your arm, and cuts off all the chances 
 of your recovery. It is, perhaps, as great an 
 evil in poverty as in sickness. After all, it is not 
 a leading trait in the American character ; we are 
 a sanguine people, and, like boats which easily 
 right themselves, our merchants and mechanics 
 rise out of troubles with an alacrity which is sur- 
 prising. Encourage this hopeful temper, but let 
 it be natural. As you value your happiness shun 
 all artificial comforters. The man who, in embar- 
 rassment, resorts to the bottle, or the tavern, may 
 be said to be half lost. However bad your con- 
 dition may be, it is not so wretched as this will
 
 200 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 make you. If intoxicating liquors are always 
 dangerous, they are a thousand-fold so to the man 
 who is in straits. 
 
 You are embarrassed, but not undone. Now 
 let me warn you against suddenly abandoning 
 your present business. In nine cases out of ten, 
 those who leave the trade to which they have been 
 bred, find the change disastrous. You cannot be 
 as much at home in any other employment, and 
 your having failed in one effort is no sign that you 
 will fail in the next. On the same principle I 
 would say, beware of suddenly changing your 
 place of residence. This almost always involves 
 loss of time, loss of money, and loss of credit. 
 Whatever may have brought you down, resolve 
 to retrieve your former standing in the very place 
 where you have lost it. That which needs altera- 
 tion is not your circumstances, but yourself. Un- 
 less you can change this by a removal, you had 
 better remain. There is, of course, an exception 
 in those cases where a man's business is over- 
 stocked, where there is no demand for his labour, 
 or where there exist other insuperable obstacles to 
 his progress. 
 
 Supposing you, then, to have come to the wise 
 resolve to build on the old foundation, let me give 
 you another hint : Do not relax your exertions for 
 a moment. It is strange, but common, to see men 
 making poverty an excuse for idleness. Their 
 business has failed, and accordingly they walk 
 about the streets for a month with their hands in
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN WANT. 201 
 
 their pockets. When the waterman finds that his 
 boat has been carried by the tide far below the 
 landing-place, he does not relax his rowing, and 
 yield himself to the adverse waves, but braces 
 every muscle, and pulls hard against the stream. 
 Redouble your exertions, and you may soon be 
 extricated. Particularly when one is in debt, this 
 is the best encouragement which he can give his 
 creditors to allow him every favour. And if it 
 has been your misfortune to be involved in debt, 
 let me beseech you to avoid plunging any deeper 
 into this slough. Necessity has no law, but so 
 long as you can procure an honest mouthful of 
 food, avoid this embarrassment. 
 
 There are occasions on which, if ever, men are 
 open to temptation. When want pinches, when 
 wife and family cry for food, those whose ho- 
 nour has never wavered will sometimes think 
 of dishonest resources. Stifle the viper in your 
 bosom ! 
 
 Last of all, I say, do not repine. Discontent 
 will only imbitter the distress which it cannot re- 
 lieve ; and it is as wrong as it is useless and inju- 
 rious. Be humble, patient, and resigned to the 
 arrangements of Providence, and you will not fail 
 to see better days.
 
 802 THE WORKINft-MA.N. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE VILLAGE REVISITED. 
 
 " I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
 Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 
 Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
 And tell of all I felt, and all I saw. 
 And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
 Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
 I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 
 Home to return and die at home at last." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 AFTER an absence of many years I lately re- 
 visited the village of Ashford. This is a small 
 inland place, in the midst of farmers, and undis- 
 tinguished by manufactures or extensive trade. Its 
 inhabitants are chiefly mechanics and store-keep- 
 ers. On my entrance, I perceived that the place 
 had undergone fewer changes than is common in 
 America. There was the same long, straggling 
 street, widening at one place into a green or com- 
 mon, upon which stood an unsightly market-place, 
 of that red brick which so disfigures and degrades 
 the architectural prospects of our country. There 
 were the same inns, and before one of them the 
 same creaking sign of an Indian Queen, at which 
 I used to throw stones when I was a boy. The
 
 THE VILLAGE REVISITED. 203 
 
 principal tavern had been enlarged, and I was told 
 that the present incumbent was the last of six who 
 had practised at that bar within twenty years. Be- 
 sides those who had been burned out, one had been 
 hanged, and one had become a reformed character. 
 I was sorry to see that the other tavern-keeper was 
 a person who had in former days been a pro 
 raising saddler. 
 
 My attention was drawn forcibly to the places 
 of the old mechanics. I looked for old JAMES 
 SORREL, the chair-maker ; there was no trace of 
 him or his. None of his sons were bred to his 
 trade, and those who survive are in the West. I 
 also looked for MARK BELVILLE, the hatter the 
 only one of his trade in those days. He ran 
 away from his creditors fifteen years ago. The 
 reason I found it easy to guess : his shop was 
 always a rendezvous for the idlers of the whole 
 street. The little English tailor, who was next 
 in the row, had become too old to work ; I was 
 told he had become rich and miserly ; he had no 
 children, and, as I remember, could not read. RO- 
 BERTS, the shoemaker, was still visible, a gray- 
 haired old man, pacing about the street with an 
 unsteady step, his hands behind him. After many 
 years' hard work, he has retired to live with a 
 married niece ; his sons are in Ohio, except one 
 who keeps up the trade in a neighbouring town. 
 The old man has one serious calamity : he has no 
 solace for his old age, either of mind or heart. In 
 his young days he had but one rule, Be honest
 
 204 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 and industrious. How many think this all- 
 sufficient ! He observed it ; he worked early 
 and late, till his back was bowed down, and his 
 eyesight gone. He succeeded that is, he accu- 
 mulated wealth. In order to do this, he saved 
 both time and money. He had no books but an 
 almanac, and always voted at town-meeting for 
 the lowest possible sum to common schools. His 
 charity began at home ; and he took care to let it 
 end there ; and resolving to be just before he 
 should be generous, he was all his life practising 
 this first lesson. Now, in his old age, he is wealthy, 
 but wretched. The domestic charm which keeps 
 some families together, was unknown to him, and 
 he is a solitary widower ; though, if you number 
 his children, the family is large. I have written 
 down in my pocket-book, that it will not do for a 
 man to make a god of his trade ; and that, in spite 
 of Ben Franklin, there are other goods in life than 
 popularity and thrift. The very next house is oc- 
 cupied by two young brokers, partners, who are 
 playing the very same game. A new race of 
 loungers appeared in the streets, but in no respect 
 inferior to those who had been before them, having 
 the same airs, and very much the same haunts. 
 It is a class which propagates itself with remark- 
 able ease, and there are few country towns in 
 which there may not be found abundant speci- 
 mens. The spots once occupied by the shops of 
 two bakers, I was pleased to see covered with 
 beautiful pleasure-grounds, and embellished with
 
 THE VILLAGE REVISITED. 205 
 
 two mansions a good deal superior to any thing in 
 Ashford. I knew their occupants well. They 
 were dutiful boys, and public-spirited men. The 
 time and money, which at intervals they bestowed 
 upon objects of common interest, have been amply 
 made up to them by increase of credit and re- 
 spectability. Benevolence is good policy. By 
 doing good they are more known, and more re- 
 vered. The chief difficulty is for them to decline 
 offices of trust ; and they are already concerned in 
 the administration and settlement of more estates 
 than any of their fellow-townsmen. Though not 
 related, they have always been good friends ; and 
 I am told they are about to join in erecting, chiefly 
 at their own expense, a Lyceum, or building for 
 public lectures and philosophical experiments. 
 They furnish a happy example of that healthful 
 popularity which may be attained without an 
 undue meddling with party politics. 
 
 By this I am reminded of OLIVER CRABBE, the 
 tallow-chandler. One would have supposed that 
 Oliver's business might have occupied all his 
 hours, but he found time to spend upon the affairs 
 of the public. He was oftener in his front shop 
 than in his dipping-room, because his front shop 
 was a sort of news-room. There, upon bench 
 and counter, at almost any hour, might be seen 
 the sage quidnuncs of the town. It was the vil- 
 lage exchange. In spite of odours " not of am- 
 ber," that door seemed to attract to itself perpetual 
 groups, which might be likened to the clusters at 
 18
 
 206 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 the aperture of a bee-hive. Here the newspapers 
 were read, and the public business settled. As 
 you might expect, Oliver was chief speaker ; he 
 loved to hear himself talk, which I have observed 
 to be the grand inducement to mingle in politics. 
 There was no meeting of the party to which he 
 belonged, at which he did not find it easy to at- 
 tend, whatever might be the state of his business. 
 At town meetings, his voice was lifted up, and 
 when he passed between the tellers, he was 
 usually followed by a retinue of humble political 
 admirers. I am not sure that he did not some- 
 times dream of higher honours, for I have heard 
 him rallied about a sheet of paper, on which he 
 had practised, in a fine flourishing hand, the mys- 
 terious words, Pub. Doc. Free OLIVER CRABBE. 
 Oliver has been in the poor-house for five years. 
 
 The grave-yard of the little village gave evident 
 tokens that almost a generation had passed away. 
 In walking among the green mounds, and marble 
 memorials, I could not but observe that a large 
 proportion of those who lay there had by no means 
 arrived at extreme age. Another reflection which 
 forced itself on me was, that the epitaphs never 
 told the whole truth. The young man who ac- 
 companied me seemed very sensible of this. I 
 would, for instance, read aloud from a headstone 
 the pretty verses commemorative of some spotless 
 youth, and my guide would say, " He died of 
 drink." Of another, equally celebrated over his 
 grave, he would observe : " This man was a
 
 THE VILLAGE REVISITED. 207 
 
 drunkard." Indeed, I shudder to think how 
 many whom I once knew among the working 
 classes of this place, have been brought to their 
 grave, either directly or indirectly, by strong drink. 
 As I sauntered about the streets and neighbouring 
 lanes, I would occasionally stumble on one and 
 another of the few surviving topers, who seem to 
 be left as warnings by Providence, like the black- 
 ened pine-trunks after a forest-burning. It is re- 
 markable that when you find an aged drunkard, 
 you commonly find that he did not begin very 
 early, and also that he has murdered several child- 
 ren by his example, and sent them before him into 
 eternity. 
 
 But my reflections must draw to a close. Look- 
 ing at the town as a whole, I see some increase, 
 and some improvement ; but, in the midst of this, 
 too great a disposition to be still and do nothing. 
 // will do for the present, is a ruinous motto. It 
 has led DICK HARLOW to leave an old post-and-rail 
 fence in front of his house and shop, until he has 
 grown to be an old man. It has allowed an old 
 ruinous well-curb to disgrace the garden of JONES, 
 the wheelwright, ever since he was a boy. It has 
 kept half a dozen little door-yards without a single 
 improvement, when they might, every one of 
 them, have been, this fine April morning, full of 
 hyacinths, crocuses, violets, and moss-pinks. And, 
 to speak of more public concerns, this same motto 
 might be inscribed over the shabby town-house,
 
 208 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 shadeless streets, and filthy horse-pond, which con- 
 tinue to be nuisances of the village of Ashford. 
 
 After all, there are a score or two of honest, 
 healthy, happy artisans, who are thriving in their 
 business, and bringing up their households in vir- 
 tuous habits. There are two good schools, and a 
 new church ; a debating society, and a musical 
 club ; a reading-room and a lyceum ; and at any 
 moment at which the body of the people shall 
 agree to abandon their sleepy motto, there will be 
 a hundred more good things to recount.
 
 THE CONTENTED WORKING-MAN. 209 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 THE CONTENTED WORKING-MAN. 
 
 " I love to hear of those, who, not contending 
 Nor summon'd to contend for virtue's prize, 
 Miss not the humbler good at which they aim ; 
 Blest with a kindly faculty to blunt 
 The edge of adverse circumstance, and turn 
 Into their contraries the petty plagues 
 And hinderances with which they stand beset." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 IN our earliest story-books, and in the copies 
 set for us by our writing-masters, we all learned 
 the value of contentment. But in real life, it is 
 remarkable how little this excellent means of hap- 
 piness is cultivated. The other evening, as I sat 
 under my willow with UNCLE BENJAMIN and Mr. 
 APPLETREE, the question arose whether men were 
 made unhappy more by their own fault, or the 
 fault of others. The good schoolmaster gave it 
 as his opinion, that in our country most men might 
 be happy if they would. "I except," said he, 
 "-eases of signal calamity ; but as Virgil says of 
 the farmers, I say of most of my neighbours, ' O 
 too happy men ! if ye only knew your own ad- 
 vantages !' " 
 
 Here I ventured to put in my oar, by saying, 
 18*
 
 210 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 what, perhaps, may not be new to the reader, 
 that there are few men who do not wish for some- 
 thing which they have not. " Yes," said uncle 
 Benjamin, " according to the old saying, ' Enough 
 means a little more.' Every man wants to reach 
 a higher peak of the mountain before he sits down, 
 when he might as well sit down where he is." 
 " You remind me of Plutarch, uncle Benjamin," 
 said the schoolmaster. " In his life of Pyrrhus, 
 he relates that this monarch was once talking with 
 Cineas, a favourite orator and counsellor, about 
 the plan of his future conquests. First, he meant 
 to conquer the Romans. Then he would extend 
 his power over all Italy. Then he would pass to 
 Sicily, to Lybia, to Carthage. ' But when we 
 have conquered all,' asked Cineas, ' what are we 
 to do then ?' ' Why, then, my friend,' said Pyr- 
 rhus, laughing, ' we will take our ease, and drink 
 and be merry.' ' But why,' said Cineas, can 
 we not sit down and do that just as well now ?' 
 The same may be applied to smaller men than 
 Pyrrhus." 
 
 " Ay, ay, you say truly," said the old man, 
 shaking out the ashes, and preparing for a fresh 
 pipe ; " you say truly. Few men are wise in 
 time. They chase their game so hotly that when 
 they have nm it down they can't enjoy it. There 
 was our neighbour Gripe : Mr. Quill knew him 
 well. He and I began life together. Gripe 
 started in a small way, but by everlasting pains 
 made himself a rich man. He had no children,
 
 THE CONTENTED WORKING-MAN. 211 
 
 and few expenses, yet he always pressed on as if 
 the constable was at his heels. There was no 
 repose there was no relaxation. Round and 
 round he went, like a horse in a mill. I often 
 urged him to stop. ' You have enough,' I would 
 say, ' begin to enjoy it; why make yourself the 
 prey of these vexing cares ?' But no he could 
 not be content. At length his wife died ; he was 
 left alone, rich but friendless. He gave up busi- 
 ness, but it was too late. His fireside had no 
 charms, and he fell into a melancholy which was 
 soon followed by a mortal complaint. So he died 
 without having ever known what it was to sit down 
 and enjoy a moment of quiet. The whole of his 
 property was scattered to the winds, by a pair of 
 grand-nephews, his heirs-at-law." 
 
 " Nature requires but a little," said Mr. Apple- 
 tree. " We are the slaves of our artificial wants. 
 I have accustomed myself to say, in looking at 
 many a piece of luxury, ' I can do without it.' 
 Even the ancient heathen had learned as much as 
 this. Their philosophers endeavoured to per- 
 suade men to seek happiness by narrowing their 
 desires, rather than by increasing their gratifica- 
 tions. ' He who wants least,' says one of them, 
 ' is most like the gods, who want nothing.' " 
 
 " Those old fellows were mighty wise, I dare 
 say," said uncle Benjamin ; " but I warrant you 
 they found it hard to practise as they preached. 
 At the same time no one can deny the truth of 
 what they affirmed. And I have often told my
 
 212 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 son Sammy, that nothing would be a greater curse 
 to him than to have all his desires gratified ; ac- 
 cording to the old story of the Three Wishes. 
 On the other hand, if a man would but buckle his 
 desires within the belt of his circumstances, he 
 would be happy in an Irish cabin." 
 
 " Do you think, uncle Benjamin, that men 
 usually gain this sort of wisdom in proportion as 
 they rise in the world ?" " No, no far from it. 
 Pampering does not produce patience. He who 
 grows rich is only feeding a fever. Indulgence 
 begets peevishness. Those tailors and shoe- 
 makers, along our street, who are just shutting up 
 for the night, are happier than the wealthy sports- 
 men and idlers over the river ; nay, they are hap- 
 pier than they will be themselves, when, like so 
 many American mechanics, they become wealthy, 
 and live in their own great houses. I have often 
 heard Thrale, the rich brewer, say that he did 
 not feel at home in his own parlour, and that he 
 looked back with regret to the days when he had 
 but three rooms in his house." 
 
 This led me to relate the story of my cousin 
 Barnaby Cox. He was a book-binder, in a small 
 way, and took a sweet little woman to wife, and 
 lived in the . lower part of Second street. He 
 seemed as happy a fellow as worldly things can 
 make any one ; he earned his pleasures, and he 
 enjoyed them. He needed no balls, taverns, 
 gaming, or theatre to enliven his evenings. This 
 was while he lived, as you may say, from hand
 
 THE CONTENTED WORKING-MAN. 213 
 
 to mouth. By some turn in the wheel, he be- 
 came prosperous ; he formed new connexions, 
 and got into new lines of business ; in short, he 
 became a wealthy man. But riches did not make 
 him a better man. He lives in splendour in 
 Chestnut street ; but he has gone down in health 
 and cheerfulness. He is restless, and listless, and 
 seems never to know what to do next. His great 
 house is seldom visited except by a few relations, 
 and if the truth could be told, he sighs for the 
 evenings he used to enjoy when work was done. 
 
 " The case is not rare," said Mr. Appletree ; 
 " but I have one to relate, which, I think, you 
 will allow, is really so. It may be taken as a fair 
 offset to Mr. Quill's. In the neighbourhood 
 where I was bred, there is a man whom I shall 
 call ARATOR. He was the son of a wealthy and 
 somewhat proud family, and fell heir to a large 
 and well-kept estate. There was not a nobler 
 farm or mansion in the whole country-side. Be- 
 ing a man of studious habits, and indolent and 
 melancholy, he allowed his affairs to run on rather 
 negligently, and partly from this cause, and partly 
 from the treachery of his principal legal agent, he 
 became what the world calls a ruined man. 
 
 " Ruined, however, he was not. After the first 
 shock of misfortune, he seemed to be awakened 
 to new energies. His indolence and his gloom 
 took leave of him. He set about the retrieving 
 of his fortune, with an energy which astonished 
 those who knew him best. True, he is likely to be
 
 214 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 a poor man as long as he lives, but he is in a faiy 
 way to pay his debts, and he is cheerful and con- 
 tented. Not long since I called upon him at his 
 humble dwelling, in the midst of a little piece of 
 land which he tills. He was in his working 
 dress, and moist with the labours of the hay-field; 
 but he received me with a radiant smile, and ush- 
 ering me into his sitting-room, cried out, ' Here, 
 Lucy, is our old friend Appletree ; he has not for- 
 gotten the champagne and venison of Strawberry 
 hill, nor have we : we cannot treat him to any ; 
 but we can teach him, when our children come in, 
 that there is some truth still in the old stories about 
 cottages and contentment.' And the blended blush 
 and tear of his wife, with the whoop and halloo 
 of the boys that just then bounded into the room, 
 told me that, by coming down in the world, they 
 had risen in the scale of true enjoyment."
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 215 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 
 
 " Cade. Dost thou use to write thy name 1 or hast thou a 
 mark to thyself, like an honest plain-dealing man 1 
 
 Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up 
 that I can write my name. 
 
 All. He hath confessed ; away with him : he's a villain, 
 and a traitor. 
 
 Cade. Away with him, I say ; hang him with his pen 
 and inkhorn about his neck." 
 
 Second Part of King Henry VI. 
 
 IN using the title working-man, I have merely 
 availed myself of a phrase which is commonly 
 understood. As usually employed, it designates 
 the artisan, the mechanic, the operative, or the 
 labourer ; all, in a word, who work with their 
 hands. But I trust no reader of these pages will so 
 far misunderstand me, as to suppose that I mean 
 to deny that there are multitudes of other classes, 
 who work, and work hard, and whose honest in- 
 dustry is as useful to society as that of the smith 
 or the carpenter. 
 
 There are many varieties of industry, and the 
 common distinction is a just one between head- 
 work and hand-work. But then the two are so 
 intermingled that it is almost impossible to draw
 
 216 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 the line between them. The mathematical instm 
 ment maker is as industrious and indispensable a 
 character as the puddler in an iron foundry ; but 
 the work of the former is chiefly head-work : and 
 then what a difference between the bodily labour 
 of the two ! Yet no reasonable person could ex- 
 clude the instrument maker from the number of 
 working-men. The nice operations, however, of 
 this workman, as also those of the watchmaker, 
 jeweller, lapidary, and engraver, do not, in a 
 strict sense, deserve the name of labour any more 
 than that of the man who writes his six hours 
 daily in a clerk's office. Yet how many are there 
 who would deny the honours of industry to the 
 jaded clerk, even though his toils are a thousand- 
 fold more wasting and disheartening than those of 
 the mason or wheelwright ! 
 
 In every great establishment both kinds of ser- 
 vice are required, and neither party should look 
 upon the other with jealousy or disdain. There 
 must, for instance, in a great printing establish- 
 ment, be men to work the presses, and boys to 
 see to the rollers ; and there must be the setting 
 up of the type ; but, again, there must be correct- 
 ing of the proofs, which is purely head-work. 
 There must be keeping of accounts, which is of 
 the same nature, and equally indispensable. And, 
 if I may be allowed to say a word in behalf of 
 my own calling, there is the poor author, but for 
 whom the press would stand still; and whose 
 labour is not the least exhausting of the whole.
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 217 
 
 Yet he is the very one who, according to some 
 of the popular doctrines of the day, should be 
 denied the name and credit of a working-man ! 
 In every extensive manufactory, the carter, dray- 
 man, or porter, is not more necessary than the 
 clerk or book-keeper. The conductor of a rail- 
 road train, though he does little or nothing with 
 his hands, is as needful as the brake-man or en- 
 gineer. The skilful director of a cotton-mill, who 
 contrives and manages, is just as necessary as the 
 operatives. No great building can be erected 
 without previous drawings ; the man who plans 
 and executes these, has no more labour than he 
 who keeps the books ; and both these are no less 
 working-men than the stone-sawyer in the marble- 
 yard, or the hod-carrier upon the scaffold. The 
 pilot does no hard labour on board ship, yet he is 
 as important a working-man as the hardiest tar. 
 So, likewise, in the manufacture of complicated 
 machines, such as steam-engines, not a blow can 
 be effectually struck until the chief engineer has 
 gone about his head-work, and made his calcula- 
 tions : and the sturdy fellow who toils at the anvil, 
 or the grindstone, should not forget that his em- 
 ployer is tasked as severely and as needfully as 
 himself. There is really such a thing as head- 
 work, and it is hard work. This is proved by 
 the appearance of those who are devoted to it. 
 Clerks, book-keepers, accountants, and all writers, 
 are liable to suffer exceedingly in point of health, 
 from their confined atmosphere and fixed position. 
 19
 
 218 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 They are often as much distressed by rest as la- 
 bouring men by motion ; the maintenance of one 
 posture injures them in various ways. Their 
 digestive organs soon give way, they grow lean 
 and sallow, and low-spirited, and are ready to 
 envy every wood-sawyer they meet. Surely it 
 is unjust to sneer at such men, as drones in the 
 hive. 
 
 The concerns of life cannot be carried on with- 
 out a mixture of both head-work and hand-work. 
 Strike out either sort from any extensive establish- 
 ment, and the work must come to an end. A 
 hasty observer, on going into a ship-yard, and 
 seeing the bustle, and hearing the hum of business, 
 would be ready to think that every thing was done 
 by main force, by the saw, hammer, and adze. 
 But on looking a little deeper, he would find that 
 quite as important a part of the work is done out 
 of sight, in the noiseless office, or model-loft. He 
 would see one man writing letters, or copying 
 them in a book, another posting into a leger, a 
 third drawing plans, a fourth making tedious com- 
 putations, and a fifth overseeing the whole, and 
 acting as head to a hundred pair of hands. How 
 soon would our famous steam-engines, which have 
 attracted admiration even in England, cease to be 
 produced, if it were not for the contriving heads 
 of our Stevenses, Baldwins, Norrises, and Mer- 
 ricks ! Can any man deny that James Watt or 
 Sir Richard Arkwright were working as really 
 and as hard for the common good, when they
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 219 
 
 were studying out their great inventions, as if they 
 had been filing brass, or casting iron, or turning a 
 lathe ? And was not Sir Humphry Davy, in his 
 laboratory, when contriving his safety-lamp, as 
 truly working in a useful vocation as the humblest 
 miner with his pick-axe and shovel? But the 
 principle admits of much wider application, to 
 those, namely, who have no immediate connexion 
 with manual labour. I maintain, that every man 
 who honestly supports himself by industrious ap- 
 plication to useful business is a working-man. 
 The mere amount of motion or bodily labour does 
 not make so great a difference. If it did, we 
 might find it hard to show that there is not a 
 wider step between the coal-heaver and the tailor, 
 than between the tailor and the accountant. Roger 
 Sherman was first a shoemaker, and then a Con- 
 gressman : but he worked harder and did more 
 good in the latter than in the former capacity. 
 John Newton was first a sailor and then a 
 preacher ; but no one who knows his history will 
 deny that he was vastly more useful to society in 
 his second calling. The salesman and travelling 
 agent are working-men, no less than the manu- 
 facturer. The affairs of commerce require clerks, 
 bankers, merchants, calculators, editors of jour- 
 nals. Not less necessary are physicians, teachers, 
 lawyers, clergymen, and judges. No man can 
 be said to lead an easy life who faithfully dis- 
 charges the duties of any one of these professions ; 
 and this would be soon found to be true, by any
 
 220 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 doubter who should undertake to assume their 
 place for a single week. If knowledge is power, 
 then those who make great 'acquirements in 
 science are contributing in the highest degree to 
 the productions of human art. Many a man can 
 do ten times as much in this way as in any other. 
 The late lamented Judge Buel, of Albany, whose 
 death has been announced since this work was 
 going through the press, may be named as an in- 
 stance in point. Though he well knew what it 
 was to labour with his own hands as a practical 
 farmer, yet no one who has looked at the pages 
 of the " Cultivator," will doubt for an instant that 
 by conducting this work he did more for the agri- 
 culture, and consequently for the wealth of his 
 country, than any hundred farmers, as good as he, 
 could have accomplished by following the plough. 
 Let us hear no more of this cant about working 
 men and idle men : all industrious citizens are 
 working-men. There are drones, indeed, but 
 they exist as largely in the ranks of nominal la- 
 bour as elsewhere. 
 
 Nearly allied to this subject, is another to 
 which the most serious and impartial attention is 
 requested. I mean the opposition which some 
 have attempted to set on foot, between the poor 
 and the rich. It is natural for the opposition to 
 exist in some degree ; but they are traitors to 
 society who make it their business to foster it. It 
 is natural for the hard working-man, sorely pressed 
 to support his family, to look with envy upon the
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 221 
 
 glittering equipage or marble house of his wealthy 
 neighbour. But to seek the regulation of this 
 matter by tumult and spoliation would be the ex- 
 treme of madness. There never has been, and 
 there never will be a country without this same 
 division into rich and poor. Attempts have, in- 
 deed, been made for a season, to have every thing 
 in common ; somewhat after the visions of Robert 
 Owen ; but they have always failed. This was 
 tried two hundred years ago among the romantic 
 settlers of Virginia ; but the bubble soon burst, 
 for none were gainers but the drones, and it was 
 soon proclaimed as a law, that " he who will not 
 work shall not eat." 
 
 The sure and direct way to competency and 
 even wealth, is the quiet pursuit of a good trade 
 or calling. In no country is this more true than 
 in our own, where there are no legal barriers 
 against the rising of the honest poor ; where 
 there are no titles of nobility, no law of primo- 
 geniture, no entail of estates. A few glaring ex- 
 ceptions there may be, but, generally speaking, 
 the wealth of this country has been acquired by 
 indefatigable industry : our rich men have been 
 working-men. Or, suppose it to have been their 
 fathers who were the working-men ; is my reader 
 the man who would cut off his own sons from all 
 the advantages of what he has earned ? It is idle, 
 it is ruinous, in such a country as ours, to set the 
 poor against the rich. For who are the poor? 
 If you mean the drunken, the profligate, the idle . 
 19*
 
 222 THE WORKING-MAtt. 
 
 our gamblers, sharpers, and sturdy beggars ; cer- 
 tainly it is not for their behoof that you would 
 make a division of property. Who are the poor? 
 If you mean the hard-working tradesman or ope 
 rative he does not need your help, and if he is 
 wise he will not ask it ; because he is rapidly 
 passing out of the ranks of the poor into those of 
 the rich. Nor would it be possible to draw a line 
 separating the one class, from the other, without 
 placing on each hand those who were rising or 
 falling from either side. Whose interest, then, is 
 it to excite prejudices between rich and poor? 
 Not that of the industrious ; not that of the poor 
 man who has sons, who may rise to the utmost 
 elevation known among us ; not that of the quiet 
 man who desires security of property for himself 
 and his neighbour ; but only of the grasping and 
 designing rogue, who, like a thief at a fire, wishes 
 to profit by the general confusion. 
 
 All these suspicions and heart-burnings between 
 one class and another are evil and disastrous. 
 There can no more be an absolute level in society 
 than in the ocean ; and there is no great class of 
 men which is not necessary to the good of all the 
 rest. The reader of history will remember the 
 famous story of Menenius Agrippa, a Roman 
 consul and general, as related by Livy. The 
 populace were up in arms against the nobles, and 
 had intrenched themselves on one of the hills of 
 the city. Agrippa appeased them by the follow- 
 ing fable : " Once on a time, when each member
 
 WHO IS THE WORKING-MAN? 223 
 
 of the human body could speak for itself, the 
 members became dissatisfied with the belly ; 
 which, said they, does nothing but lie in state, and 
 enjoy the fruit of our labours. They resolved, 
 therefore, upon a strike, and determined to stop 
 the supplies of this luxurious organ. The hands 
 stopped work, and would bring no food to keep 
 him from starving ; the mouth would receive no 
 provision ; the feet came to a perfect stand-still ; 
 in a word, all business was stagnant. There 
 was great perseverance in this combination, until 
 at length a universal emaciation took place, and 
 it was seen that there was no such thing as living 
 without the kind offices of this indolent and aris- 
 tocratic consumer of victual."
 
 224 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 HOME PLEASURES. 
 
 " I crown thee king of intimate delights, 
 Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, 
 And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
 Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours 
 Of long uninterrupted evening know." 
 
 COWPEH. 
 
 THE family relation implies community of in- 
 terest ; as there is a common stock, so there are 
 common sorrows and common joys. Put a dozen 
 people together in a house, and let each lead the 
 life of a hermit : this would be no family, even 
 though they might be blood relations. There is 
 more of domestic life even in the steerage of a 
 packet-ship, where like seeks its like, and little 
 congenial groups are formed before the voyage is 
 over. The true glory of home is in the middle 
 region of civilization : it is absent alike from the 
 highest and the lowest. What can be more cheer- 
 less than the sullen selfishness of the Indian wig- 
 wam ; where the relentless savage wraps himself 
 up in indolent dignity, while the squaw and the 
 children are spurned, as unworthy of a look un- 
 less it be the elegant and fashionable household 
 of the prince or noble, where each is independent
 
 HOME PLEASURES. 225 
 
 of the other, and has his separate equipage and 
 peculiar friends. Compare with this the cottage 
 of the poor labourer, who returns at twilight to 
 be welcomed by every human being, and every 
 domestic animal ; who tells over, or hears, all the 
 occurrences of the day, and who feels that there 
 is no interest which he does not share with every 
 one around him. 
 
 There is more value than all believe, in the 
 simple maxim, Let family enjoyments be com- 
 mon to all. If there are few who deny this, there 
 are still fewer who act upon it in its full extent. 
 Something of it, as I have said, there must be, to 
 make a family at all. We occupy the same house, 
 sit around the same fire, and eat at the same table. 
 It would seem churlish, and almost inhuman, to 
 do otherwise. But I am for carrying the matter 
 much farther, and for knitting more closely to- 
 gether those who cluster around the same hearth ; 
 believing that every influence is evil which severs 
 father from child, and brother from brother. The 
 morsel that is eaten alone becomes sooner or later 
 a bitter morsel. 
 
 Members of the same household should feel 
 that they are dependent on one another, and should 
 be as free to ask, as ready to give, assistance. 
 Each should rise in the morning with the impres- 
 sion, that no duty of the day is more urgent than 
 to make every individual happy, with whom he is 
 brought into contact. And this contact should be 
 sought, not shunned. It is a bad sign, when
 
 226 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 members of the same household are shy of one 
 another. I do not, of course, allude here to those 
 horrid instances of unnatural, brutal temper, 
 where persons of the same blood, daily gathered 
 around the same board, refuse to speak to one 
 another : malice and envy must rankle deeply 
 where this can be the case. I refer to a more 
 common fault, which sometimes exists where 
 there is a degree of real affection, but where the 
 members of a family have separate pursuits and 
 separate pleasures. The hasty morning meal is 
 swallowed with little intercourse. When it is 
 done, each hurries to his or her peculiar line of 
 employment. The mother is busy in the kitchen, 
 the father in the shop, the sons go their several 
 ways. This might do well enough, if it were 
 confined to business, but it becomes the habit of 
 the hours of leisure. The father has his evenings 
 abroad ; the sons are seldom within doors till a 
 late hour, and too often, she who most needs the 
 cheering influences of the family circle, the 
 mother, is left to patch or darn by a dim candle, 
 with the cradle moving at her feet, during those 
 hours in which her daughters are laughing or 
 singing among their young company. All this is 
 highly undesirable. The evenings of the indus- 
 trious family may be, and ought to be, delightful 
 seasons of joint satisfactions. If we must have 
 evening parties of friends, let there be a proper 
 mingling of sexes and ages. The presence of the 
 old may to a degree moderate the mirth of the
 
 HOME PLEASURES. 227 
 
 young, but in the same proportion the aged will 
 be enlivened. This parcelling and assorting of 
 society, like labelled packages in a shop, is be- 
 coming too common, and in my judgment inju- 
 rious. The young folks must be all together; 
 and the children must be all together ; and if mat- 
 ters go on thus, we may live to see parties of 
 graybeards and parties of sucklings. No ! wher- 
 ever it is possible, let the family chain be kept 
 bright and whole. In the houses of the indus- 
 trious, it is surely broken often enough by separa- 
 tion at work during the day. 
 
 Instead of thus living apart, which engenders 
 selfishness and moroseness, I love to see the mem- 
 bers of families flowing together, like congenial 
 drops. There are some houses in which no one 
 makes a confidant of another : if one would learn 
 the secret of his brother, he must go abroad for it. 
 This is unnatural, and wholly evil ; incompatible 
 with the frankness of simple love. Show me the 
 father often walking with his sons, and these sons 
 often with one another, not in business merely, but 
 in sports ; and I shall think I see a virtuous and 
 happy household. 
 
 There is one particular in which the principle 
 I have laid down may have a very important ap- 
 plication. I mean the case of mental improve- 
 ment. The rule should here be, so far as pos- 
 sible, let the pursuit of knowledge in every family 
 be a joint pursuit. For many reasons this is de- 
 sirable in every house, but it is almost indispen-
 
 228 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 sable in the house of the working-man. It wakes 
 up the spirit of improvement ; it saves time and 
 expense, and it gives tenfold zest to the refresh- 
 ments of leisure. To take one of the simplest 
 instances, I would, in two words, say to every 
 working-man, Read aloud. If the book is bor- 
 rowed, this is often the only way in which every 
 one can get his share. If the family is very busy, 
 and the female members of all industrious fami- 
 lies are as much so in the evening as in the day 
 the reading of one will be as good as the reading 
 of all, and while one reads, a dozen may knit or 
 sew. There are many persons who enjoy much 
 more and retain much better what is read to them 
 than what they read themselves : to the reader 
 himself, there is a great difference in favour of 
 reading aloud, as it regards the impression on his 
 own mind. The members of the circle may take 
 turns, and thus each will have a chance of learn- 
 ing, what so few really attain, the art of correct 
 and agreeable reading. Occasion is thus offered 
 for questions, remarks, and general discourse ; 
 and it is almost impossible for conversation to 
 flag, where this practice is pursued. With this 
 method, the younger members of a family may be 
 saved in a good degree from the perusal of frivo- 
 lous and hurtful books ; and, if a little foresight 
 be used, a regular course of solid or elegant in- 
 struction might thus be constantly going forward, 
 even in the humblest family. 
 
 But the moral and social effects of such a prac-
 
 HOME PLEASURES. 229 
 
 tice are not less to be regarded. Evenings thus 
 spent will never be forgotten. Their influence 
 will be daily felt in making every member of the 
 circle more necessary to all the rest. There will 
 be an attractive charm in these little fireside asso- 
 ciations which will hold the sons and daughters 
 back from much of the wandering which is com- 
 mon. It will be a cheap, wholesome, safe eajoy- 
 ment, and it will be all this, at home. 
 
 The gains of an affectionate family ought to be 
 shared and equalized ; the remark is true of all 
 degrees and kinds of learning. Study has a ten- 
 dency to drive men to solitude, and solitude begets 
 selfishness, whim, and moroseness. There are 
 some households in which only one person is 
 learned ; this one, however amiable, has, perhaps, 
 never thought of sharing his acquisitions with a 
 brother or a sister. How seldom do men com- 
 municate what they have learned to their female 
 relations : or, as a man once said in my hearing, 
 " Who tells news to his wife ?" And yet how 
 easy would it be, by dropping a word here, and 
 a word there, for even a philosopher to convey the 
 chief results of his inquiries to those whom he 
 meets at every meal. I have been sometimes sur- 
 prised to see fathers, who had made great attain- 
 ments, and who, therefore, knew the value of 
 knowledge, abstaining from all intercourse with 
 their sons, upon the points which were nearest 
 their own hearts. In families where the reverse 
 of this is true, that is, where the pursuits of the 
 20
 
 230 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 house have been a joint business, it is common to 
 see a succession of persons eminent in the same 
 line. Thus, among linguists, the Buxtorfs ; 
 among painters the Vernets and the Peales ; among 
 musicians, the Garcias ; in literature, the Edge- 
 worths, the Taylors, and the Wirts. 
 
 There are some pleasures which, in their very- 
 nature, are social ; these may be used to give a 
 charm to the working-man's home. This is more 
 true of nothing than of music. Harmony implies 
 a concurrence of parts, and I have seen families 
 so trained, that every individual had his allotted 
 part or instrument. Let the thing, however, be 
 conducted by some rule. If proper pains be taken 
 with children, while they are yet young, they 
 may all be taught to sing. Where circumstances 
 favour it, instrumental music may be added. It 
 is somewhat unfortunate that American women 
 practise almost entirely upon the more expensive 
 instruments ; and it is not every man who can or 
 ought to give two hundred and fifty dollars for a 
 piano-forte. In countries where the guitar is a 
 common accompaniment, it is within the reach 
 of the poorest. There may be lovely music, 
 however without any instrument. The most ex- 
 quisite music in the world, I mean that of the 
 pope's Sistine Chapel, is known to be such. 
 There is great room for selection, however, both 
 as to music and words. It is the height of folly 
 to buy every new thing which comes from the 
 music-sellers. So far as words are concerned, a
 
 HOME PLEASURES. 231 
 
 full half of what they publish is nonsense, or 
 worse ; and I have blushed to see a young lady 
 turning over what she very properly called her 
 " loose music." Those persons, therefore, de- 
 serve our thanks, who from time to time are pub- 
 lishing in a cheap form such secular music as is 
 proper for families. I here refer chiefly to such 
 works as Kingsley's Social Choir, Mason's Odeon, 
 and the Boston Glee Book. 
 
 But, after all, and without any reference to re- 
 ligion, the best music is sacred music. It is on 
 this that the greatest masters have laid out their 
 strength ; it is this which most suits the chorus 
 of many voices. Secular pieces, as commonly 
 published, are intended to be sung by few, or by 
 a single voice ; but sacred compositions admit of 
 the strength of a whole company. And it is truly 
 delightful to drop into one of those families where 
 the evenings are sometimes spent in this way. 
 There is the eldest daughter at the piano-forte, 
 accompanied by the eldest son upon the violin. 
 Another son and two daughters lead off vocally, 
 with the principal melody, while a neighbouring 
 youth plays the tenor, and sings the same part. 
 The old gentleman in spectacles labours at his 
 violoncello, and two or three flutes come in mo- 
 destly to complete the orchestra ; while nieces, 
 nephews, cousins, friends, and, perhaps, suitors, 
 fill up the sounding chorus with right good will. 
 This is, indeed, something more than a mere 
 family meeting, but it is what grows out of it;
 
 232 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 and when the evening ends, and some little re- 
 freshments have gone around, the transition is not 
 abrupt from this to the social worship, when 
 all voices join once more in a happy evening 
 hymn.
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME. 233 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S EVENINGS AT HOME 
 
 " 0, evenings worthy of the gods ! exclaimed 
 The Sabine bard. O evenings, I reply, 
 More to be prized and coveted than yours, 
 As more illumined, and with nobler truths, 
 That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy." 
 
 COWPEB. 
 
 THERE are no portions of the working-man's 
 life in which a more constant series of innocent 
 satisfactions is offered to him, than his evenings. 
 This is true of those at least whose trades do not 
 encroach upon the night. When labour is over, 
 there is an opening for domestic pleasures which 
 no wise man will ever neglect. 
 
 My neighbour BOSWELL has a high sense of 
 these enjoyments, and makes the most of them. 
 Except when some public meeting calls him 
 abroad, you are as sure to find him at home in the 
 evening, as at work in the day. Sometimes, in- 
 deed, he accompanies his wife or eldest daughter 
 in a visit, but he never appears at clubs or taverns. 
 " I work hard," he is accustomed to say, " for my 
 little comforts, and I like to enjoy them unbroken." 
 
 The picture would not be unworthy of the 
 20*
 
 234 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 pencil of a Wilkie : I have it clearly in my mind's 
 eye. The snug and well-closed room is all gay 
 with the blaze of a high wood-fire ; which casts 
 upon the smiling circle a ruddy glow. There is 
 Bos well, in his arm-chair, one hand between the * 
 leaves of a book which he has just closed, the 
 other among the auburn locks of a little prattling 
 girl. He gazes into the coals with that air of 
 happy revery, which is so sure a token of a mind 
 at rest. The wife, nearer to the light, is plying 
 the ceaseless needle, and distributing kind words, 
 and kinder glances among the little group. Mary, 
 the eldest daughter, is leaning over a sheet of 
 paper, upon which she has just executed a draw- 
 ing. George, the eldest son, is most laboriously 
 engaged in the construction of a powder-horn. 
 Two little ones are playing the royal game of 
 Goose ; while one, the least of all, is asleep be- 
 fore the fire, by the dog and the cat, who never 
 fail to occupy the same spot every evening. 
 
 Such humble scenes, I am happy to beliete, are 
 still presented to view, in thousands of families 
 among the working classes. Need it be added, 
 that they are immeasurably above the sickly heats 
 of those who make pleasure the great object of 
 their pursuit in life ? It is among such influences 
 that religion spreads its balm, and that knowledge 
 sheds its fruits. Rest after toil is always agree- 
 able ; but it is doubly so when enjoyed in such 
 circumstances, in the bosom of a loving family, 
 healthful, instructed, and harmonious. Such uni-
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME. 235 
 
 formity is never tedious, nor such quiet ever dull. 
 Every such evening may be remembered in after 
 life with pleasing regrets. 
 
 My friend tells me, that it is a refreshment to 
 his mind, during the greatest labours or chagrin 
 of the day, to look forward to his tranquil even- 
 ing. When work is done, he hastens to wash 
 away the traces of his ruder business, and to 
 make himself as smart as is consistent with frugal 
 plainness. "He who hammers all day," he says, 
 " has a right to be clean at night." This is the 
 rule of his house; and when his sons grow large 
 enough to be out at trades, they will, no doubt, 
 come in every evening as trim and as tidy as they 
 went out. 
 
 It is no interruption of such a group for a 
 neighbour to drop in. The circle opens, a seat is 
 drawn up, the sleepers are merrily pushed aside 
 from the rug, the conversation grows lively, news 
 circulates, and joy sparkles in every face. The 
 salves of cakes, or the fruit-basket, or some health- 
 ful beverage prepared by "neat-handed" Mary, 
 adds to the substantial of the entertainment. The 
 newspaper, or some pleasant book is read aloud ; 
 and when the hour for separation comes, they 
 part with a vastly better state of feeling than that 
 of the greasy creature who has nodded in his 
 moping corner, or the peevish tavern-haunter who 
 comes home late to scold his solitary wife. 
 
 It might be interesting to inquire what would be 
 the effect upon the state of society in any village
 
 236 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 or town, if every working-man in it could be in- 
 duced to spend his evenings at home, and in this 
 manner. A reform in this single particular would 
 work wonders. Every one who is admitted to 
 such a scene, feels at once that there is a charm 
 in it. Why, then, are there so many families, 
 where nothing of this kind is known ? To give 
 all the reasons might be tedious ; but I must men- 
 tion one or two. First, there must be punctuality, 
 neatness, and thrift in the affairs of housekeeping, 
 to make such a state of things practicable. No 
 man loves to take his seat between two washing- 
 tubs, or beside a fire where lard is simmering, or 
 to stretch his legs over a hearth where almost 
 every spot is occupied by some domestic utensil. 
 Then, there must be a feeling of mutual respect 
 and love, to afford inducement to come together 
 in this way. Further, it is difficult to maintain 
 these happy evening groups without some little 
 sprinkling of knowledge. The house where there 
 are no books is a dull house ; the talk is amazingly 
 dull talk. Reading makes pleasant conversation. 
 George always has some good thing to read to 
 Mary ; or Mary some useful fact to repeat to 
 George. A little learning in the family is like a 
 little salt in the barrel, it keeps all sound and 
 savoury. And, finally, I feel it incumbent on me 
 to repeat what has been said more than once al- 
 ready, that he who overtasks his days, has no 
 evenings. In our country, thank God, labour 
 need not be immoderate to keep one alive. There
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME. 237 
 
 is such a thing as working too much, and thus be- 
 coming a mere beast of burden. I could name 
 some men, and more women, who seem to me to 
 be guilty of this error. Consequently, when 
 work is past they are fit for nothing but solid 
 sleep. Such are the men and the women who 
 have no domestic pleasures ; no reading, ro im 
 provement, no delightful evenings *t honw.
 
 S38 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 " As one who long in populous city pent 
 Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 
 Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe 
 Among the pleasant villages and farms 
 Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight, 
 The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 
 
 Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound " 
 
 MH.TOST. 
 
 EVERY man, until his taste is completely vitiated, 
 and habit, a second nature, has inverted his na- 
 tive propensities, will experience a satisfaction 
 upon going into the country ; and there is a par- 
 ticular zest in the little excursions of the town- 
 bred artisan, who leaves the brick, and mortar, 
 and confined air within, to enjoy the gaiety and 
 freshness of rural environs. These visits have 
 pleasant associations. We connect them with 
 fine weather, clean clothes, holidays, and good 
 company ; and it is not unlikely that much of the 
 beauty of the country is merely an emanation 
 from our own cheerfulness. Yet after every de- 
 duction on this score, we shall all say with the 
 poet, 
 
 " God made the country, but man made the town '."
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 239 
 
 It is not wonderful, therefore, that many of our 
 working-men, as soon as they are able, take their 
 families into the country, either for the summer, 
 or as a permanent residence. A large proportion 
 of the snug little farms around our great towns, 
 are tilled by mechanics, some of whom have re- 
 tired from trade, while others still continue in bu- 
 siness, and use these as their places of retreat. 
 This tendency to the country seems to be on the 
 increase, and I am persuaded it augurs well for 
 the future respectability of the whole class. 
 There are few mechanics in our land who may 
 not look forward to the possession and occupancy 
 of a few acres ; and the expectation is a very 
 cheering one to those who have to ply their se- 
 dentary tasks, year after year, in the same unven- 
 tilated shops or lofts. There is a feeling of inde- 
 pendence in surveying one's own grounds, how- 
 ever small in extent ; there is a perpetual gratifi- 
 cation of natural taste in the sights, sounds, and 
 odours of the country ; but there are more sub- 
 stantial benefits. No device for the prevention of 
 disease or the restoration of health, is comparable 
 to that of moderate agricultural labour. The fresh 
 air, the exhalation of newly opened furrows, the 
 morning ride, the succession of vegetables and 
 fruits, the continual variety of employments, the 
 intervals of absolute rest, and the placid ease of 
 mind, concur to keep the animal powers in their 
 most healthful play. I scarcely know which sea- 
 son most to covet : spring is balmy and full of
 
 240 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 promise ; summer affords gorgeous flowers and 
 sunny harvest ; autumn comes laden with fruits ; 
 and even winter brings days of healthful labour 
 and evenings of cheerfulness and improvement by 
 the ample fire-place. 
 
 There is no situation in which children may be 
 brought up in greater security from the tempta- 
 tions of a wicked world. They must, indeed, 
 become somewhat restive ; they may, perhaps, be 
 bashful, and will fail of having that precocious as- 
 surance, and almost pertness, which one observes 
 in too many city lads. But from how many 
 moral defilements are they protected ! Having 
 had some trial of both situations in my earlier 
 days, I do not hesitate a moment to say, that the 
 temptations of boyhood are far less in a farm than 
 in any other condition in life. Then we should 
 take into the reckoning the strength, and agility, 
 and manliness which are fostered in a country 
 life. The youthful limbs are developed, and the 
 constitution made robust by labour, sport, and ex- 
 posure. Sometimes the little farmer strains the 
 young horse across the meadow, or with his faith- 
 ful dogs traverses the wood, and climbs high to 
 dislodge the squirrel or the raccoon from the slen- 
 der hickory. Or he dashes into the rapid stream, 
 or rows his boat, or drives his herd into distant 
 pastures, regardless of rains and snows, which 
 would put in jeopardy the lives of more effemi- 
 nate boys Certainly the solids of physical edu- 
 cation are best secured in the country.
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 241 
 
 My old neighbour, HENRY HOPE, is an instance 
 of the good effect of a timely retreat into the 
 country. After working many years at the hat- 
 ter's trade, he began to show signs of primitive 
 decay. He had contracted a stoop in the shoul- 
 ders, and his complexion was of a dirty yellow. 
 Without entirely giving up his business, he in- 
 vested some of his savings in a little property four 
 miles out of town. Every year found him more 
 and more of a farmer, until last spring he sold out 
 his whole mechanical establishment, and betook 
 himself to the green fields. I lately visited him, 
 and was entertained with the complacency of his 
 air, as he took me over his grounds. " There," 
 said he, " are my stacks of wheat ; not more, 
 perhaps, than six hundred bushels ; but then my 
 own, in every sense. There, on the right, you 
 see I am putting up a new barn, and cover for 
 my cattle. That spring-house of white stone is 
 as cool as winter ; the clear water trickles over 
 the brick floor at all seasons. Near by, you may 
 see my meadow, with the brook running through 
 the midst of it. The double row of willows is to 
 protect a causeway I have been making through 
 that newly-drained swamp. But, come, I must 
 not let you go till I have showed you my orchard, 
 and explained my plans of grafting." So he ran 
 on, descanting now on his stock, now on his poul- 
 try, exhibiting improved ploughs, and young 
 hedges, until t was almost persuaded to turn 
 farmer myself. 
 
 21
 
 242 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 It is more than eighteen centuries since a Latin 
 poet described, with enthusiasm, the lot of the 
 husbandman : 
 
 " O happy, if he knew his happy state, 
 The swain who, free from business and debate, 
 Receives the easy food from nature's hand, 
 And just returns of cultivated land. 
 Unvex'd with quarrels, undisturb'd with noise, 
 The country king his peaceful realm enjoys 
 Cool grots, and living lakes, the flowing pride 
 Of meads, and streams that through the valley glide, 
 And shady groves that easy sleep invite, 
 And, after toilsome days, a soft repose at night"* 
 
 A country where agriculture is the great pur- 
 suit, is always a country advancing in civilization. 
 Our own land still spreads out before the enter- 
 prising young man so many millions of untilled 
 acres, that it would seem to be a plain indication 
 of Providence, that for some time to come we 
 should be an agricultural people. There can be 
 no serious comparison between the health, phy- 
 sical and moral, of men in a thriving, rural dis- 
 trict, and any equal number pent up in manufac- 
 turing towns. In order to succeed in husbandry, 
 great farms are by no means necessary. It has 
 grown into a proverb, that men grow poor on 
 large farms, and rich on small ones. But if a 
 man wishes to do these things upon the widest 
 scale, the West is all open before him, and he 
 may sit down among thousands of acres. 
 
 Virgil.
 
 SATURDAY EVENING. 243 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S SATURDAY EVENING. 
 
 " Come, evening, once again, season of peace ; 
 Return, sweet evening, and continue long. 
 Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, 
 With matron step slow moving, while the night 
 Treads on thy sweeping train ! one hand employ'd 
 In letting fall the curtain of repose 
 On bird and beast, the other charged for man 
 With sweet oblivion of the cares of day." 
 
 CoWPEH. 
 
 No one familiar with the aspect of towns in- 
 habited by artisans, needs to be informed that the 
 close of the week is marked by very striking pe- 
 culiarities. As the ponderous engine of human 
 labour slackens its revolutions, and at length stands 
 still, and gentle rest begins to spread her wing 
 over the haunts of toil, there is at once an addi- 
 tion made to the happiness of man, which no en- 
 thusiasm can well overvalue. In a few moments 
 we may apply to the great capital or manufactur- 
 ing town, the expressive verse from Wordsworth's 
 famous sonnet on London Bridge. 
 
 "And all that mighty heart is lying still !"
 
 244 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 The forge and the smithy are ceasing to 
 smoke. The mighty arms and shafts moved by 
 steam, are dropping into repose. The quick re- 
 port of millions of manual utensils has terminated. 
 Jaded animals, bowing their necks, are set free 
 from the yoke ; while innumerable sons and 
 daughters of toil, released from the necessity of 
 further work, are ready for rest or pleasure, for 
 improvement or vice. The thought is pleasing. 
 As I survey the crowded city, and allow my ima- 
 gination to picture the details of the scene, I be- 
 hold a thousand delightful images of domestic 
 comfort. 
 
 Now, according to an extensively prevalent 
 usage, the well-earned reward of labour is re- 
 ceived. Now the anxieties of the tedious week 
 are suspended. Families, separated during the 
 preceding days, come together, better prepared 
 than at other tims to aid one another, and to 
 enjoy one another's company. One unbroken 
 day between two nights of unaccustomed repose, 
 is a golden prize in expectation. The meeting of 
 parents, brothers, sisters, children, sometimes of 
 husband and wife, who have been kept apart by 
 the stress of labour, is not without some points 
 which deserve the poetic touch of a Crabbe or an 
 Elliot. It is, with the virtuous, a season of hal- 
 lowed affections. 
 
 Happy is that working-man who, when, at the 
 week's end, he throws off, in the bath, the soils
 
 SATURDAY EVENING. 245 
 
 of labour, can with equal ease lay aside the wrong 
 emotions or evil habits of the same period, and 
 with a clear conscience prepare for the day of 
 rest ! Happy is the youth who, when he comes 
 home to greet his aged parents, and the sister of 
 whom he is proud, feels that no tarnish has come 
 over his heart ! Happy the blooming girl, how- 
 ever lowly her calling, who enters the humble 
 dwelling with the elastic tread of conscious inno- 
 cence ! Blessed family, where the call to rest is 
 but the signal for the renewal of every kindly af- 
 fection ! 
 
 I know that with some, even in early life, the 
 end of the week is the beginning of a frolic. The 
 time when wages are received is apt to be a sea- 
 son of merriment if not of vice. In summer, 
 multitudes, in every sort of hired vehicle, stream 
 forth out of the various avenues of our cities and 
 towns. In winter the streets resound till a late 
 hour with the tread of idlers and debauchees. 
 And in every season, Saturday night fills the 
 taverns, oyster-houses, porter-cellars, and other 
 resorts, with a double allowance of hale fellows. 
 There is a triple consumption of tobacco and 
 strong drink on these occasions. So that there is 
 a dark side to the picture, as there is, indeed, to 
 most pictures of human life. But even here, I 
 find an illustration of some of my favourite posi- 
 tions about the conservative influence of the do- 
 mestic institution. The worst men, I will con- 
 
 21*
 
 246 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 tinue to affirm, are those who, either from choice 
 or from necessity, have no home. Perhaps, out 
 of a thousand families gathered after a week's 
 work, there is not one gathered for vicious indul- 
 gence. Where youth are vicious, they commonly 
 hate the hearthstone. Saturday evening is a good 
 criterion of the attachment which a young man 
 bears to the virtuous attractions of home. As the 
 guardian angel of the fireside, woman has here a 
 great and hopeful work. I wish I could impress 
 on the wife, the mother, and the sister, the value 
 of their influence in this particular. Make home 
 delightful, and you will work wonders. That 
 wayward youth may, perhaps, be won by sisterly 
 invitation. Spare nothing that is fairly within 
 your power to make it worth his while to spend 
 his Saturday evening with the family. So long 
 as you have this hold upon him, you may almost 
 bid defiance to the attempts of evil companions. 
 
 Let it never be forgotten, that we owe all these 
 good influences to religion. There would be no 
 Saturday evening, if there were no Christian Sab- 
 bath. In countries where man and beast work 
 seven days in the week, there is nothing which 
 resembles the pleasant scenes to which I have al- 
 luded. In such countries there is little of what 
 we mean by home. Who would undertake to ex- 
 plain to a French labourer the Cotter's Saturday 
 Night? 
 
 And since I have been led to name that exqui-
 
 SATURDAY EVENING. 247 
 
 site production, I cannot leave it without com- 
 mending it to the attention of every working-man 
 who sets a value on family quiet and contentment. 
 This single effusion would not be bought too dearly 
 at the price of all the other productions of Robert 
 Burns. Though written with special reference to 
 an agricultural population, it presents a scene 
 which might be realized in the household of any 
 good man of whatever calling. The return of 
 the cottager, after his labours, is described with 
 the feeling of one who knew what it was to come 
 home weary from the plough. The return of the 
 sons, and of the daughter, is described in the very 
 dialect of nature ; and the entrance of the lover 
 is as arch as it is accurate. The chat, the joke, 
 the supper, are all admirably told ; the crowning 
 grace of the poem is the account of the family 
 worship : 
 
 " The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, 
 They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 
 The big Aa' Bible, ance his father's pride : 
 His bonnet reverently is laid aside, 
 His lyart haflets* wearing thin an' bare ; 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
 And, Let us worship God ! he says, with solemn air." 
 
 The psalm is sung, the chapter is read; the 
 family, led by " the priest-like father," bows in 
 
 * Temples covered with gray locks.
 
 248 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 prayer; they separate with affectionate salutations. 
 Well says Burns, whom none will suspect of 
 being a fanatic : 
 
 " From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 That makes her loved at home, revered abroad : 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
 ' An honest man's the noblest work of God :' 
 And, certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 
 The cottage leaves the palace far behind,"
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-MAN. 249 
 
 XL. 
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 " A man so various that he seem'd to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome: 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, 
 Was every thing by turns, and nothing long. 
 But in the course of one revolving moon 
 Was chymist, fidler, statesman, and buffoon." 
 
 DRTDEX, 
 
 THE character which Dryden gives of the 
 witty and wicked Duke of Buckingham, may, 
 with some little change, be applied to many of 
 us who have no titles of nobility. There is no 
 more common character among our young men, 
 than that of Reuben : Unstable as water, thou 
 shall not excel.* Nor do I know any class of 
 persons in whom it is more unfortunate than in 
 those who earn their living by industry ; because 
 it is the very nature of their employment to re- 
 quire patient continuance in one course. No trade 
 can be either learned or practised without regu- 
 larity and constancy. As I write with a principal 
 reference to the young, I think it right to say 
 here, that if the disease of instability is ever 
 
 Gen. xlii. 4.
 
 250 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 cured, it must be in youth ; and the effort is one 
 of the most important which could be suggested. 
 HARRY VANE is a young man of my neighbour 
 hood. He has good talents and good prospects, 
 and has begun life with a pretty little sum of 
 money from his father's estate. But though he 
 is not yet twenty-three, he has already lived in 
 three houses, and set up two trades. He has 
 very decided opinions to-day, but no one can in- 
 sure their lasting till to-morrow. When he hears 
 arguments on one side, he leans one way ; when 
 on the other side, he leans the other way. Hence, 
 he is quite at the mercy of his companions ; and 
 being somewhat sensible of this, he tries to make 
 up for strength of belief, by energy of assevera- 
 tion. Nevertheless, he betrays himself at every 
 step ; for this is one of those things which can- 
 not be hidden. Vane takes up his opinions on 
 trade, politics, and religion, at second-hand. The 
 task of reasoning, he resigns to BRIGGS, the post- 
 master, and BRAG, the apothecary, who are his 
 cronies. He never sits down to think any thing 
 out, and, therefore, he is never long of one mind. 
 For when opinions come lightly, they will go 
 lightly. They are trees without roots, easily 
 transplanted or blown down ; reeds shaken with 
 the wind ; weathercocks turning with every breath. 
 There is scarcely one of Vane's opinions which 
 his neighbours could not alter. His mind takes 
 hold of truth with a paralytic grasp. True, this 
 is sometimes amiable ; but for the purpose of life,
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-MAN. 251 
 
 it is even worse than obstinacy : just as granite, 
 however hard, is more useful than friable sand- 
 stone. So much for his opinions. 
 
 It is just the same with his feelings. Never 
 have I seen an April sky so changeable as his 
 temper. His tears and his laughter, his frowns 
 and his caresses, maybe, at any moment, exchanged 
 for one another. He shows this in his attach- 
 ments. He rushes into new associations, to rush 
 as quickly out of them. I have observed him 
 for a few months together, and" ever and anon I 
 find him with new faces. I own it is the same as 
 to his malignant feelings ; he cannot hold spite ; 
 but still, with such fickleness, he never can be a 
 man of strength, either for good or evil. 
 
 It is the same with his habits. Vane never 
 walks long enough in any one direction to wear a 
 track. He breaks down in his journey, for want 
 of patience. He is driven out of the road, for 
 want of courage. I should as little expect to find 
 him two successive days in the same state, as to 
 see the moon rise for two nights at the same hour. 
 
 I have more serious things to say. Vane is 
 unstable in his principles. By a man of prin- 
 ciple, I mean one who acts for reasons, which he 
 can show and defend. What he does, he has be- 
 fore resolved to do. He has made up his mind 
 as to the right and wrong of actions before he is 
 brought to trial. Such a man is not Harry Vane. 
 He lacks the very thing which distinguishes the 
 man of principle, namely, perseverance in a de-
 
 252 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 termined course. On one day he seems quite 
 correct, the next almost dissolute. To-night he 
 plays cards : to-morro\v, he will join the temper- 
 ance society. And this because he has no govern- 
 ing principle. 
 
 It was good advice which a father once gave to 
 his boy : " My son, learn to say NO." There is 
 as much energy in this short word, as in any ex- 
 pression in human language. But what object is 
 more pitiable, than the poor, pliant young man, 
 who cannot stand out against the gentlest wind of 
 temptation, or resist the sneer or the entreaty of 
 bad companions ! I have often thought, therefore, 
 that there is as much greatness as safety, in com- 
 plying with the caution : " My son, when sinners 
 entice thee, consent thou not." Better far would 
 it be for our youth, if they would barter away a 
 good portion of pompous swagger and braggart 
 imbecility, for the quiet dignity of that firmness 
 which will not yield an inch to the importunity 
 of vice. 
 
 Let me return to my subject. I have spoken 
 of the opinions, the feelings, and the habits of 
 Harry Vane. Answerable to these is his universal 
 conduct. He is in every circumstance of his life 
 a poor fickle young man. In labour, in amuse- 
 ment, in friendship, he is still the same. He forgets 
 that what he is becoming now, he will be for life. 
 He is quick, amiable, and generous, but he is un- 
 stable, and this gives a sickly hue to his whole 
 constitution. He begins a thousand things; he
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-MAN. 253 
 
 begins them with zeal, with enthusiasm, with ex- 
 pectation, perhaps with rapture but he ends none 
 of them. Vane's life, so far as I can see, is likely 
 to be a series of abandoned enterprises. He may 
 talk big, and play the man ; but, like the bells on 
 a fool's cap, his actions betray him at every 
 motion. 
 
 I wish every young reader of this page would 
 for a moment lay aside the book, and ask himself 
 how nearly he resembles Harry Vane. There is 
 great room for self-deception here. The evil in 
 question is often allied with some of the gentler 
 traits of character. Arising from a certain soft- 
 ness, it easily couples itself with pity, mildness, 
 benevolence, and even generosity. But do not 
 err ; unless you can end your day as you begin 
 it ; unless you can begin the same thing a hun- 
 dred times over ; unless you can bid defiance to 
 weariness and sloth ; unless you can be for a 
 thousand days what you are the first of them ; un- 
 less you can bear and forbear, and resist beseech- 
 ings, and example, and raillery, and neglect, you 
 may, indeed, be an agreeable lady's companion ; 
 you may be esteemed in the little circle of your 
 friends ; you may be popular among those who 
 bend your flexible will to their own purposes ; but 
 you must forever forsake the expectation of being 
 manly, influential, or truly great and useful. Let 
 me dwell a minute or two on this. 
 
 Fickleness is usually accompanied by other bad 
 traits. Certain vices grow in clusters. If yoa 
 22
 
 254 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 are fickle, I shall expect to find you a superficial 
 reasoner. The unsteady man is frequently 
 though not always timid. A measure of irreso- 
 lution is certainly implied. Resolved purpose 
 cannot be expected in him who is perpetually 
 changing. In the same bed of noxious weeds, 
 springs up indolence in all its forms. As there is 
 a want of self-reliance, there will be a disposition 
 to lean upon others. As there is lack of prin- 
 ciple, there will be many violations of duty. 
 
 All great works are accomplished by constancy. 
 Perseverance in labour wears away rocks, chan- 
 nels our plains, tunnels our mountains ; and this 
 perseverance is produced and insured by uniformity 
 of judgment and of passion. The unstable have 
 no unity of plan. A thousand threads are spun 
 for a little distance, only to be snapped and ex- 
 changed for others. Great men of every age 
 whether scholars, statesmen, soldiers, or philan 
 thropists, have been men of decision, of con 
 stancy, of single purpose. Such men were New 
 ton, Washington, Watt, and Fulton. 
 
 Where fickleness predominates, there will al- 
 ways be a general debility of character. Say that 
 a youtli is changeable, and by that word you fix 
 on him a stigma of weakness and meanness. It 
 matters little what is his trade or employment. 
 There are no employments which do not demand 
 uniformity and constancy of effort. Moreover, it 
 is a blemish which cannot be concealed : the 
 world will know it ; and this is a matter on which
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-AIAN. 255 
 
 the world judges aright. Whatever may be the 
 reigning enterprise, the fickle man is thought unfit 
 for it. Are important plans on foot ? he is sure 
 to be left out. No one will embark on a vessel 
 without rudder, without anchor, without ballast, 
 without pilot, which can do nothing but go be- 
 fore the wind. But such is the fickle man. He 
 is unsafe in every emergency, because he may 
 change his mind before the work is even begun ; 
 and he is prone to be the slave of other men's 
 opinions. And, by the rebound of public opinion, 
 the unstable man sometimes gains a view of his 
 own weaknesses, and is filled with self-contempt. 
 For, as I have hinted above, he is not necessarily 
 a fool ; nay, he may be clever and ingenious ; he 
 may have candour and generosity, and every thing 
 except the manly virtues. But, wanting these, and 
 sensible of the great defect, and shocked by the 
 contrast of nobler minds, he shrinks from the 
 view, and often retires from attempting any thing 
 worthy of notice. 
 
 There is nothing in which the unstable man 
 meets with more losses than in the affairs of 
 morals and religion. There are many who have 
 begun very well, have entered the Christian course 
 with great alacrity, but have fallen out during the 
 race. If it were as easy to complete as to begin, 
 most of us would do well. Some will, perhaps, 
 read these lines, who have lost all the religious 
 emotions which once possessed their minds, and 
 who are likely to be the victims of instability.
 
 256 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 As was said before, if this great error is ever 
 amended, it must be in youth ; and to be amended 
 it must be detected. Some will tell us it is all in 
 natural temperament, or in the organs of the brain ; 
 and it cannot be denied that there are great differ- 
 ences in the constitutions of men : all are not 
 moulded of the same clay. Yet here, as in a 
 thousand similar instances, the pains of education, 
 and especially of self-control, are not in vain. 
 Even a bad constitution may be kept alive and 
 strengthened, which, if let alone, would soon go 
 to ruin. 
 
 It is the ruinous mistake of many to suppose 
 that mere talent can insure success without con- 
 stancy and perseverance. One of the most inge- 
 nious men I have ever known, is at the same time 
 the most useless member of society. With abili- 
 ties which might have made his fortune long ago, 
 he is little above the condition of a pauper. At a 
 very early age he was apprenticed to a cabinet- 
 maker, with whom he served about half his time, 
 and learned the simpler operations. During this 
 time, however, he invented a machine for making 
 sausages, for which he received a handsome sum 
 from a neighbouring butcher. It is hard to say 
 what trade he is of, for he plies almost every sort 
 of handicraft. I lately consulted him about a 
 crazy bathing-tub, but found that he had ceased to 
 be a cooper, and was manufacturing shoemakers' 
 lasts. He has made reeds for weavers, bird-cages, 
 and wire-safes ; he has taken out several patents
 
 THE UNSTABLE WORKING-MAN. 257 
 
 for churns, and has even tinkered a little about 
 clocks and watches. But, then, his patents do 
 him no good, for he has not resolution to fulfil his 
 orders, and his occupations are so various that no 
 one knows where to find him. Yet I never met 
 with any who did not grant that this same fellow 
 was one of the greatest mechanical geniuses in 
 our neighbourhood. But mere cleverness, without 
 strength of character, can never make a man re- 
 spectable, useful, or happy.
 
 258 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S GOOD WORKS. 
 
 " Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, 
 Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." 
 
 POPE. 
 
 IT is an unwilling tribute to moral principle, 
 that even the most hardened of our race dislike 
 to be called selfish. It needs little instruction 
 and little philosophy to show a man that he does 
 not live entirely for his own interest ; and the 
 slightest experience is sufficient to prove that he 
 who tries to do so offends against his own happi- 
 ness. The person who cares for nobody but 
 himself, is in every sense a wretch, and so glaring 
 is this wretchedness in the case of the money- 
 slave, that we have borrowed a word of this im- 
 port from Latin, and call him a miser. 
 
 From their earliest years, our children should 
 be taught this simple but invaluable lesson, that 
 benevolence is bliss. Do good and be happy. 
 We are most like God, the happiest of all beings, 
 when we are most beneficent. In pursuance of 
 this, I would bring up my child to feel that his 
 cake, or his penny, or his orange was to be shared ; 
 that for this purpose it is given ; and that he fails
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S GOOD WORKS. 259 
 
 of his pleasure if this end is not attained. I would 
 make it one of his chief rewards to carry aid to 
 the poor, and would give him an early chance of 
 being my almoner. And when fit opportunities 
 occurred, I would take him with me to see for 
 himself the happiness effected by his own little 
 gifts. For it is apt to slip from our thoughts that 
 in moral as well as in intellectual principles and 
 habits, the mind is made by education. Con- 
 science and the affections are almost latent in the 
 savage, or the London thief, or the young slave- 
 trader ; and a child bred in the forest would be 
 only above the ourang-outang, in morals as in 
 reason. A difference not so great, yet by no 
 means unimportant, is to be observed in the 
 children of different families, in respect to kind- 
 ness of feeling and beneficence of action. Let 
 us aim to bring up our little ones to deeds of 
 mercy. 
 
 Do we, however, who are parents, teach them 
 by example ? Have we any plans for doing good? 
 Are we not quite content to let days roll by, in 
 which we have not conferred a real benefit on any 
 fellow-creature ? Is the impression deep in our 
 own minds, that there is a luxury in doing good, 
 and that it is its own reward ? Benevolence 
 should be cherished by contemplating the charac- 
 ters of such as have acquired the blessed reputa- 
 tion of philanthropists : though there are thou- 
 sands who never have the name, because they 
 have modestly shunned the publicity.
 
 260 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 Travellers in Herefordshire are still shown the 
 arm-chair of John Kyrle, the original of Pope's 
 " Man of Ross." Of his history not much can 
 be recovered, and this little is preserved entirely 
 by the memorials of his good deeds ; for he lives 
 in the recollection of the poor in that neighbour- 
 hood. He does not seem to have been remark- 
 able for any thing but his beneficence. As we 
 learn, on good authority, that the celebrated lines 
 of the poet are not exaggerated, we prefer his 
 elegant description to any thing of our own : 
 
 " But all our praises why should lords engross 1 
 Rise, honest Muse ! and sing the Man of Ross. 
 Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, 
 And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. 
 Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows 1 
 Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? 
 Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ? 
 1 The MAN or Ross,' each lisping babe replies. 
 Behold the market-place, with poor o'erspread ; 
 The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread ; 
 He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state, 
 Where age and want sit smiling at the gate ; 
 Him portion'd maids, apprenticed orphans bless'd, 
 The young who labour, and the old who rest. 
 Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves, y 
 
 Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes and gives. 
 la there a variance ? enter but his door, 
 Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. 
 O say, what sums that generous hand supply ? 
 What mines, to swell that boundless charity ? 
 Of debt and taxes, wife and children clear, 
 That man possess'd five hundred pounds a year.'
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S GOOD WORKS. 261 
 
 In his own particular sphere, and with due 
 allowance made for circumstances, every man 
 who has a little substance and a little leisure, may 
 be a Man of Ross. " The most worthless," it 
 has been said, " have at times, moments in which 
 they wish to rise out of the slough of their pas- 
 sions, and be beneficially employed ; and many 
 of the best lose opportunities of effecting much, 
 by neglecting the common materials within their 
 reach and aspiring to what is beyond them." I 
 have known weakly benevolent persons to sigh 
 for occasions of usefulness, when widows and 
 orphans were suffering the extremities of want 
 within a few hundred yards of their dwellings. 
 
 I have often. stood in amazement at the number 
 of beneficent acts which my friend Joseph Pitson 
 will accomplish, without taking away any thing 
 considerable from his daily labours. He succeeds 
 in this by husbanding his moments, watching for 
 opportunities, and seizing upon them the instant 
 they appear. But it is genuine benevolence 
 which gives him this alacrity. Among a thousand 
 objects presented to his attention, Joseph's eye 
 singles out at a glance that to which he can be 
 useful ; if the comparison is not out of place, just 
 as the bird of prey pounces upon its quarry. 
 When, not long since, I spent one or two days 
 together with him in settling the affairs of a de- 
 ceased friend's estate, I was often called to won- 
 der at the multiplicity of his acts of kindness. 
 On one day in particular, he was perpetually fly-
 
 262 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 ing from business to charity, and yet not appa- 
 rently to the disadvantage of either. When 
 breakfast was over, he had two plates and as 
 many bowls of coffee despatched to the sick 
 father of one of his apprentices. Shortly after, 
 he stole ten minutes to run across the way, to 
 arrange something towards a Temperance meeting 
 in the evening, and to drop three tracts into as 
 many country market-carts. A woman called 
 him out to ask advice about a drunken son, who 
 had been arrested in a riot. Then he had notices 
 to sign as chairman of a committee respecting the 
 improvement of schools. These did not alto- 
 gether take up more of his time than the filling 
 and smoking of three or four pipes would of my 
 old friend Stith's. While I was at my dinner, 
 Joseph had walked half a mile to see about the 
 indentures of widow Jones's boy, and had his 
 meal into the bargain. In the afternoon he made 
 his wife accomplish almost as much more, and I 
 sat down with him at tea in company with three 
 or four religious friends from a distance, who 
 were sharing his hospitality, and who were to be 
 present at the meeting after dark. 
 
 I wish what I am saying might induce the 
 reader of these pages to lay down the book for a 
 moment, and to ask himself these questions : Am 
 I doing any good in the world ? What proportion 
 of my gains do I allot to acts of charity ? Am I 
 active in giving personally to the relief of those 
 whom I hear to be in distress ? Do I take any
 
 WORKING-MAN'S GOOD WORKS. 263 
 
 pains to seek out such cases ? What poor, or 
 otherwise suffering persons, are there in my im- 
 mediate neighbourhood, to whom I have never 
 extended any relief? A little self-catechising of 
 this sort would not be thrown away, now and 
 then, upon the best of us. 
 
 The saying of the wise man is remarkable : 
 " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and 
 there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but 
 it tendeth to poverty." Tithe, and be rich, is the 
 Jewish proverb. " I am verily persuaded," says 
 Gouge, a writer of the seventeenth century, " that 
 there is scarcely any man who gives to the poor 
 proportionably to what God has bestowed on him; 
 but, if he observe the dealings of God's provi- 
 dence toward him, will find the same doubled and 
 redoubled upon him in temporal blessings. I 
 dare challenge all the world to produce one in- 
 stance (or at least any considerable number of in- 
 stances) of a merciful man, whose charity has 
 undone him. On the contrary, as the more the 
 living wells are exhausted, the more freely they 
 spring and flow, so the substance of charitable 
 men frequently multiplies in the very distribution: 
 even as the five loaves and few fishes multiplied, 
 while being broken and distributed, and as the 
 widow's oil increased by being poured nut "
 
 264 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S REST. 
 
 " O, day most calm, most bright ! 
 The fruit of this, the next world's bud ; 
 Th' endorsement of supreme delight, 
 
 Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; 
 The couch of time ; care's balm and bay : 
 The week were dark, but for thy light ; 
 Thy torch doth show the way." 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 THERE is no engine which can work forever. 
 There must be intermissions to oil the joints and 
 wheels, and supply the losses by wear and tear. 
 Not even the human frame, the most wonderful 
 and complete of all machines, can do its work 
 without some remission. It is so constituted as 
 to require the supplies of food and sleep, at least 
 once every twenty-four hours. But something 
 more than this is needed. After several days of 
 toil, both the body and the mind ask for respite. 
 It is too much to have all our powers and all our 
 thoughts day after day and month after month 
 bent intensely upon the same object. Either body 
 or mind, or both together, must infallibly break 
 down under such a strain.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S REST. 265 
 
 Our beneficent Creator has kindly provided for 
 this necessity of nature, by the institution of the 
 Sabbath, which is older than Christianity, and 
 older than the Mosaic law ; having been ordained 
 immediately after the creation. It is set apart as 
 a day of rest, which the name imports ; a day of 
 devotion, of instruction, and of mercy. If it is a 
 mercy to the world at large, it is a seven-fold 
 mercy to the working-man, who cannot possibly 
 thrive without this, or some similar refreshment. 
 The beast of burden sinks under perpetual loads, 
 and the law of the human constitution is just as 
 binding, which enjoins periodical and sufficient 
 rest. 
 
 Men may try to brave the authority of heaven ; 
 but they do it to their own great loss, even in a 
 worldly point of view. Take one week with 
 another, and the man who works seven days ac- 
 complishes no more than he who works six. 
 Careful observers tell us, that they never knew 
 any one to grow rich by Sunday labour. 
 
 It is strange that any arguments should be 
 needed in behalf of the Sabbath. Every thing 
 that accompanies it is delightful. The hum, and 
 whirl, and crash of business come to an end. 
 Serene repose broods over the face of nature. 
 Families separated during the week, now come 
 together ; and parents greet their sons and daugh- 
 ters. The very cleanliness which the Sabbath 
 brings with it has a charm. Even the poorest 
 who observe the day, are now in their best ap- 
 23
 
 266 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 parel ; and I am one of those who believe that 
 to be neat and tidy has a decided moral influence. 
 As the tradesman or the mechanic, who has been 
 confined for some days, walks abroad, leading his 
 little ones to the Sunday-school or the church, he 
 feels a complacency which nothing else could 
 produce. If his turn is serious, he will be led to 
 contemplate the Creator in his works ; and, espe- 
 cially in the fairer seasons of the year, to rejoice 
 with rejoicing nature. 
 
 But it is at church that we discern the greatest 
 advantages of the Sabbath. There is a little com- 
 munity met in their best suit, in their best humour, 
 for the most important business of the week. If 
 it is in the country, the scene is often enchanting. 
 The old church stands on some eminence, sur- 
 rounded by ancient trees, beneath which are scat- 
 tered the grassy mounds that mark the resting- 
 place of the dead. Friends are now exchanging 
 kind looks and salutations, who meet at no other 
 time during the week. There is scarcely a dull 
 eye or a lack-lustre face among the groups which 
 crown every knoll of the wide enclosure. So 
 that, long before public worship begins, there is 
 a benign, moral influence at work. How much 
 more pure and genial is the social spirit thus 
 awakened than that which is engendered at wakes, 
 auctions, and town-meetings : and how little real 
 community of feeling would there be in a neigh- 
 bourhood where there was no such weekly 
 gathering !
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S REST. 267 
 
 But enter the house of God, and catch the im- 
 pression of the sacred scene. The vision of the 
 poet is realized : 
 
 " Fast the church-yard fills ; anon 
 Look again, and they are gone ; 
 The cluster round the porch, and the folk 
 Who sat in the shade of the prior's oak ! 
 And scarcely have they disappear'd 
 Ere the prelusive hymn is heard : 
 With one consent the people rejoice, 
 Filling the church with a lofty voice, 
 A moment ends the fervent din, 
 And all is hush'd without and within."* 
 
 Who can calculate the softening, elevating, hal- 
 lowing influences of such a service once every 
 week ! Fifty-two Sundays, every year, is this 
 custom spreading its blessed fruits of peace and 
 good order. Consider next the instructions of this 
 sacred season. " Here," says a popular writer, 
 " on a day devoted to no employment but the 
 gaining of this knowledge, and the performance 
 of those religious duties which unite with it in 
 perfect harmony ; in a place convenient and 
 sacred ; on an occasion infinitely important ; and 
 with the strong power of sympathy to aid and 
 impress ; a thousand persons are taught the best 
 of all knowledge ; the most useful to themselves 
 and the most beneficial to mankind ; for a less 
 sum than must be expended by a twentieth part 
 
 Wordsworth.
 
 268 THE WORKIXG-MAN. 
 
 of their number in order to obtain the same in- 
 struction in any other science. No device of 
 the heathen philosophers, or of modern infidels, 
 greatly as they have boasted of their wisdom, can 
 be compared, as to its usefulness, with this. The 
 Sabbath, particularly, is the only means ever de- 
 vised of communicating important instruction to 
 the great mass of mankind." 
 
 For these reasons the habit of church-going is 
 of, great value to every man, and above all price 
 to such as have not received a thorough education. 
 I like to see the head of a family bringing all his 
 household to public worship : children cannot 
 begin too soon to enjoy so great a blessing. 
 
 The afternoon and evening of Sunday afford a 
 favourable opportunity for the religious instruction 
 of children and dependants. In the stricter sort of 
 old families this was as regular a thing as the return 
 of the day. There are good occasions also for the 
 reading of the Scriptures and of other good books. 
 Happy is that domestic circle where this has been 
 the habit of every member from his childhood. 
 
 What time can be more favourable than this for 
 acts of mercy ! From the smallest gains some- 
 thing may be laid by, on the first day of the week, 
 for the poor, or for benevolent institutions. It is 
 really surprising to observe how much more men 
 will give in the course of a year in this way, 
 than by random gifts of large amount. 
 
 He who enters at all into the spirit of what I 
 have written, will not need to be warned against
 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S REST. 269 
 
 Sunday dinners, visits to public gardens, rides or 
 drives into the country, or any of the varieties of 
 profane dissipation. Sir Matthew Hale is reported 
 to have said, that during a long life he had ob- 
 served the success of his weeks to turn out well 
 or ill, according as he had observed or neglected 
 the Lord's-day.
 
 270 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE WOKKING-MAN RETIRED FROM BUSINESS. 
 
 " O bless'd retirement, friend to life's decline, 
 Retreats from care, that never must be mine, 
 How happy he who crowns, in shades like these, 
 A yputh of labour with an age of ease." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 AN elderly man once expressed to me his sense 
 of declining life, by saying, " My birth-days 
 begin to come very fast." The years seem to 
 run round faster as they approach their close ; so 
 that it is a common saying among the aged, that 
 time flies much more rapidly than when they were 
 young. Every gray hair, every failing tooth, 
 every wrinkle, and every decay of eyesight, ought 
 to serve as a gentle hint, that we are going down 
 the hill ; and yet I believe there is no one whom 
 old age does not take by surprise. There is a 
 fine moral in the little poem of the Three Warn- 
 ings ; those of us who begin to be shy of telling 
 our age would do well to read it. 
 
 At this period of life, particularly where a man 
 has had some prosperity, it is natural to think of 
 retiring from business. What can be more rea- 
 sonable than to desist from labour when the ne-
 
 RETIRED FROM BUSINESS. 271 
 
 cessity for it is at an end, or to close the journey 
 when the end has been attained ? This would be 
 unanswerable, if the only end of labour and occu- 
 pation was to make money : and though avarice 
 would cling to the last possibility of turning a 
 penny, every man of liberal feeling would be 
 ready to cease when he has got enough, and to 
 leave the field open for younger competitors. But 
 there is a consideration of great importance which 
 is too often left out, in this inquiry : I invite to it 
 the serious attention of all elderly mechanics. 
 After fifteen or twenty years of labour, occupa- 
 tion becomes necessary to one's comfort. This 
 arises from a law of our constitution. Few men 
 can break off a habit of long standing with im- 
 punity, unless it be a habit which is injurious in 
 itself. 
 
 There is an illusion in most cases of sudden re- 
 tirement from business of any kind. The veteran, 
 when he lays down his arms, dreams of perfect 
 peace : he finds ennui and satiety. When from 
 ill-health or great infirmity there is no fitness for 
 employment, nothing can be said ; but I would 
 warn all working-men against retiring unadvisedly. 
 Charles Lamb's admirable sketch of the " Super- 
 annuated Man," is a case in point. At first there 
 will be a feeling of release and exemption, as if 
 a great burden had been thrown off; but after- 
 wards, unless where there are great mental re- 
 sources, the mind will turn upon itself. 
 
 Instances will occur to every observing reader
 
 272 THE WORKING-MAN, 
 
 of men Avho have become miserable from this very 
 cause. A highly respectable man of my ac- 
 quaintance, who united the pursuits of agriculture 
 and trade, found himself rich enough at threescore 
 to give up both employments. He retired to a 
 snug little retreat to spend the remainder of his 
 days in repose. But he soon began to .miss the ex- 
 citement of regular business. His hours were now 
 empty alike of work and pleasure, and as dull as a 
 boy's solitary holiday. He longed for the counter 
 and the plough. At length he fell into a most de- 
 plorable melancholy, which lasted for some years. 
 If there is the slightest tendency to drink, it is 
 apt to manifest itself at this critical season. Where 
 the consequences are not so serious, how often do 
 we see the retired mechanic gloomily revisiting 
 his old haunts, pacing about the street with a dis- 
 consolate air, and envying every whistling appren- 
 tice that he meets. The following instance is given 
 by Dr. Johnson : " An eminent tallow-chandler in 
 London, who had acquired a considerable forlune, 
 gave up the trade in favour of his foreman, and 
 went to live at a country-house near town. He 
 soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his 
 old shop, where he desired they might let him 
 know their melting-days, and he would come and 
 assist them ; which he accordingly did. Here 
 was a man to whom the most disgusting circum- 
 stances in the business to which he had been used 
 was a relief from idleness." 
 
 This change should be made, if possible, by
 
 RETIRED FROM BUSINESS. 273 
 
 slow degrees, and the reins of business should 
 not be altogether abandoned until several experi- 
 ments shall have been made. Even aged and in- 
 firm men may find great pleasure in some of the 
 lighter employments of their trade, or in a general 
 superintendence. 
 
 It is in such cases as this that a little learning, 
 and a taste for books, come admirably into play. 
 To have nothing to do is the worst part of 
 solitary confinement in jails : give the convict 
 books, and he would soon become interested and 
 comfortable. Give the old working-man his little 
 library, and he will have a solace for his declining 
 years. 
 
 But there is another greater and more certain 
 preventive of stupor and listlessness. Where 
 there is a truly religious temper, old age is de- 
 lightful. It is natural and seemly that old age 
 should 
 
 " Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore 
 Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon." 
 
 The consolations of the gospel will cast broad 
 sunshine over the whole prospect. The glow of 
 Christian love will soften every asperity, and 
 mellow those dispositions which old age is apt to 
 sour. And if the hoary man can take his staff, 
 and, with benignant affection, walk about among 
 children, grand-children, old friends, and neigh-
 
 274 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 hours, rousing them by his advice, instructing 
 them by his example, and aiding them by his 
 charities, he may do more good, and consequently 
 enjoy more happiness in the close of his life than 
 in all the vigour of his youth and manhood.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 275 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 
 
 " My morning walks I now could bear to lose, 
 And bless'd the shower that gave me not to choose : 
 In fact, I felt a languor stealing on ; 
 The active arm, the agile hand were gone ; 
 Small daily actions into habits grew, 
 And new dislikes to forms and fashions new : 
 I loved my trees in order to dispose, 
 I number'd peaches, look'd how stocks arose, 
 Told the same story oft in short, began to prose." 
 
 CBABDE. 
 
 IN a long sitting by our fireside, the other even- 
 ing, I had the whole subject of old age discussed 
 between UNCLE BENJAMIN and Mr. APPLETREE ; 
 and some of the results I am disposed to set down, 
 without trying, however, to keep up the form of 
 dialogue, or to trace every remark to the respective 
 speakers. Nevertheless, the reader may rest as- 
 sured, that whatever is matter of daily observa- 
 tion, is from uncle Benjamin, and whatever smacks 
 of ancient times, from the schoolmaster. 
 
 Old age takes men by surprise : this has been 
 long observed. " No one," says Pliny, " ever 
 says, ' the storks are coming,' or, ' they are going ;' 
 but always, ' they have come,' or, ' they have
 
 276 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 gone ;' for they both come and go secretly, and 
 by night." So it is with old age : we do not 
 perceive its approach. At length, however, the 
 head becomes cold from its baldness ; the last 
 stump forsakes the gums ; it is a labour to bend 
 the joints, to mount a horse, or to go up stairs ; 
 there is a drumming in the ears, and the eyes 
 almost refuse the aid of useless glasses. And 
 then comes the sense of decline ; it is well called 
 the winter of the year. " When men wish for 
 old age," says St. Augustin, " what do they de- 
 sire but a long disease ?" 
 
 A life of moderate labour, if the habits are good 
 in other respects, is one of the best securities for 
 a mild old age. But, in point of fact, working- 
 men very seldom think it necessary to observe 
 caution in this particular during their strong days, 
 and they pay the penalty at the close of life, in 
 stiff joints, a crooked back, and many pains and 
 infirmities which need not be mentioned. Disease 
 and sorrow sometimes sour the temper, and the 
 old man becomes complaining, peevish, and 
 moody. The grasshopper becomes a burden, and 
 fears increase ; he carries caution to the extreme 
 of timidity, and has a distressing irresolution 
 about the smallest concerns. These evils are of 
 course greatly aggravated if he is poor, widowed, 
 and childless. In such a case, unless the blessings 
 of religion come in to cheer the prospect, one 
 might almost see the saying of Diogenes made 
 true, that a poor old man is the most wretched
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 277 
 
 of mortals. And though I would not say a word 
 to inculcate a miserly temper, it is certainly right 
 to remind our young men, that a youth of prodi- 
 gality will have an old age of want. After a life 
 even of laborious pursuits, we sometimes see old 
 people in this melancholy condition. 
 
 " Nor yet can time itself obtain for these 
 Life's latest comforts, due respect and ease ; 
 For yonder see that hoary swain, whose age 
 Can with no cares except its own engage ; 
 Who, propp'd on that rude staff, looks up to see 
 The bare arms broken from the withering tree, 
 On which, a boy, he climb'd the loftiest bough, 
 Then his first joy, but his sad emblem now." 
 
 This is far from being true of every old man. 
 Indeed, where there have been habits of frugality, 
 foresight, temperance, and religion, old age is 
 often like a summer's evening after a day of toil. 
 Especially may it be so to one who has not de- 
 sisted prematurely from active labours, and who 
 looks back upon a long life filled with industrious 
 perseverance and useful deeds. In one of the 
 most pleasing chapters of Paley's Natural Theo- 
 logy, that benevolent philosopher cites the case 
 of comfortable old age as remarkably illustrating 
 the goodness of the Deity. " It is not for youth 
 alone, that the great Parent of creation hath pro- 
 vided. Happiness is found with the purring cat, 
 no less than with the playful kitten ; in the arm- 
 chair of dozing age, as well as in either the 
 24
 
 278 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 sprightliness of the dance, or the animation of the 
 chase. To novelty, to acuteness of sensation, to 
 hope, to ardour of pursuit, succeeds what is, in 
 no inconsiderable degree, an equivalent for them 
 all, ' perception of ease.' Herein is the exact 
 difference between the young and the old. The 
 young are not happy, but when enjoying pleasure; 
 the old are happy when free from pain. And this 
 constitution suits with the degree of animal power 
 which they respectively possess. The vigour of 
 youth was to be stimulated to action by impa- 
 tience of rest ; whilst, to the imbecility of age, 
 quietness and repose become positive gratifica- 
 tions. In one important respect the advantage is 
 with the old. A state of ease is, generally speak- 
 ing, more attainable than a state of pleasure. I 
 am far, even as an observer of human life, from 
 thinking that youth is its happiest season, much 
 less the only happy one : as a Christian, I am 
 willing to believe that there is a great deal of truth 
 in the following representation, given by a very 
 pious writer, as well as excellent man :* ' To the 
 intelligent and virtuous, old age presents a scene 
 of tranquil enjoyments, of obedient appetites, of 
 well-regulated affections, of maturity in know- 
 ledge, and of calm preparation for immortality.' ' 
 Among the humbler circles of society, in dwell- 
 ings seldom entered by the rich or gay, I have 
 seen beautiful examples of this. What sight is 
 
 Father's Instructions, by Dr. Percival.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 279 
 
 more lovely, than that of a gray-haired father, 
 seated by the glowing hearth, surrounded by 
 children and grand-children, who hang upon his 
 instructions, and fly to anticipate his every want ! 
 " Children's children," says Solomon, " are the 
 crown of old men." Where the fifth command- 
 ment has been inculcated and obeyed, old age 
 derives many indescribable comforts from the 
 affectionate respect of youth. Among the Chi- 
 nese, it is well known that filial reverence is car- 
 ried to a degree little short of religious worship. 
 To speak carelessly to parents, is with them a 
 heinous crime ; to raise the hand against them, a 
 capital one. Providence sometimes repays men 
 in their own coin. Those who have been undu- 
 tiful sons, are often made to smart as neglected 
 parents. There are few spectacles more disgrace- 
 ful than that of aged parents surrounded by idle 
 sons, living upon their little remaining substance, 
 and clinging to them, not to support them, but, 
 like parasitical plants, to suck the last juices from 
 their wasted trunks. It should be the pride and 
 glory of youth, so far as practicable, to remove 
 every annoyance from the old age of those who 
 watched over their helpless childhood. Let 
 parents see to it, that they are bringing up their 
 children in such habits as are likely to make them 
 a stay and prop to their declining years. 
 
 Next to the affection of his own children, the 
 old man will rank among his prerogatives the 
 respect of society. There is something in the
 
 2SO THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 sight of any old man, even if he is a sober beg- 
 gar, which awakes ray respect. In some parts 
 of the country it is, or was, the custom to give a 
 respectful salutation to every aged person, whether 
 rich or poor, known or unknown. It is a good 
 custom, and speaks well for the social state of the 
 land. I have been told of a gentleman who never 
 allowed himself to speak to an aged person with- 
 out being uncovered. Such was the Mosaic law : 
 " Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and 
 honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: 
 I am the Lord."* The principles of the ancient 
 Lacedemonians were very strict in this particular, 
 and such as may put some Christians to the blush. 
 Their youth were daily taught to reverence old 
 age, and to give the proofs of it on every suitable 
 occasion, by making way for them, yielding the 
 best places, saluting them in the street, and show- 
 ing them honour in public assemblies. They 
 were commanded to receive the instructions and 
 reproofs of the aged with the utmost submission. 
 In consequence of this, a Spartan was known 
 wherever he went, and was considered as dis- 
 gracing his country if he behaved otherwise. 
 Cicero tells us of Lysander, that he used to say 
 that Sparta was the place for a man to grow old in. 
 The story is well known, as related by Plutarch, 
 of the old man of Athens, at the theatre. Coming 
 in late, he found all the seats occupied His 
 
 Lev, xix. 32.
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 281 
 
 young countrymen, by whom he passed, kept 
 their seats, but when he came near the place where 
 the Spartan ambassadors and their suite were 
 sitting, they all instantly rose, and seated him in 
 the midst of them ; upon which the house re- 
 sounded with the applause of the Athenians. The 
 old man quietly said, " The Athenians know 
 what is right, but the Spartans practise it." If 
 there is any form of self-complacency which is 
 pardonable, it is that of the happy old man, who 
 makes his circuit among the places of business, 
 where he was once among the busiest, and re- 
 ceives with a satisfied smile the regard of all 
 around him. He seats himself in the shops, 
 cracks his old jokes, repeats his old stories, lec- 
 tures the boys, and sometimes breaks forth into a 
 half-comic scolding of every thing pertaining to 
 modern times. 
 
 I look upon it as one of the great advantages of 
 age, that it can freely give advice. This is what 
 the rest of us cannot do so well. But who will 
 be offended with the counsels, or even the rebukes 
 of a venerable father, leaning on his staff, and 
 shaking with that infirmity which is but the be- 
 ginning of death ? The words and the example 
 of old men are so effective, that I have sometimes 
 thought the responsibility of this season of life 
 was not sufficiently felt. A man may do more 
 good in this way after he is sixty, than in all his 
 foregoing life. But it is to be done, not sourly, 
 grimly, complainingly, or morosely, but with that 
 24*
 
 282 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 gentleness which may show that it arises from 
 true benevolence. 
 
 It was observed by the ancients, that the beset- 
 ting sin of old age is avarice. Strange, that the 
 less one needs, the more he should desire ! Yet 
 thus it is : and thus it will ever be, unless some 
 better principles be infused in earlier life ; the 
 ruling passion will be strong even in death. In 
 the following celebrated verses of Pope, it is now 
 well known that the poet merely repeated the very 
 words used on his death-bed by Sir William 
 Bateman : 
 
 " 'I give, and I devise' (old Euclio said, 
 And sigh'd) ' my lands and tenements to Ned.' 
 Your money, sir ? ' My money, sir ] what, all 1 
 Why, if I must (then wept) I give it Paul.' 
 The manor, sir 7 The manor ! hold,' he cried, 
 ' Not that, I cannot part with that' and died." 
 
 Thus, I repeat it, old age will be liable to the 
 madness of avarice, unless religious principle 
 prevent ; and even if religion has been neglected 
 in former years, it should demand attention now, 
 " When a ship is leaking," says Seneca, " we 
 may stop a single leak, or even two or three ; but 
 when all the timbers are going to pieces, our 
 efforts are of no avail." So in the human body, 
 when old age shows that the fabric is breaking 
 down, the soul ought to be looking out for a better 
 habitation. Alas ! few grow wise late in life. 
 The most pleasing instances of old age are those
 
 THE WORKING-MAN IN OLD AGE. 283 
 
 of persons who have attended to the best things 
 in youth. Such there are, and they are among 
 the greatest ornaments of religion. " The hoary 
 head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the 
 way of righteousness." The Christian old man 
 shows fruit even in winter. Instead of being 
 querulous, he is contented, hopeful, rejoicing. 
 The natural sourness of declining years has been 
 ripened into a delightful mellowness of temper, 
 by the graces of religion. May such be the old 
 age of the reader !
 
 284 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 " 'Tis the only discipline we are born for ; 
 All studies else are but as circular lines, 
 And death the centre where they must all meet." 
 
 MASSINGEH. 
 
 IN the foregoing essays I have touched upon a 
 great variety of subjects, and have passed " from 
 grave to gay," from entertainment to instruction. 
 There are many matters quite as important which 
 must be left unattempted. But I cannot bring 
 myself to close the volume without a word of 
 counsel upon what is still more momentous than 
 any to which I have alluded. Whatever our call- 
 ing in life may be, it must come to an end ; and 
 however our paths may differ, they will all meet 
 in the same termination. At death we shall be 
 stripped of all our petty distinctions, and despoiled 
 of all our worldly gains. 
 
 He must be a very stupid or a very heedless 
 man, who never asks himself what are the proba- 
 bilities of his condition after death. A prosper- 
 ous life here does not secure a prosperous life 
 hereafter. The very heathen may rebuke us for 
 our carelessness. Even the deist, if he believes
 
 CONCLUSION. 285 
 
 in the immortality of the soul, must have some 
 solicitude about the nature of that immortality. 
 Some persuade themselves that all men will cer- 
 tainly be happy after death. This is a convenient 
 doctrine for all who wish to enjoy vicious plea- 
 sures ; but there is too much at stake for any 
 man to adopt it without great consideration, and 
 such arguments as defy all contradiction. It is 
 against our rational feelings of justice, the com- 
 mon judgment of all ages, and the plain meaning 
 of the Bible. 
 
 If there is, then, a risk of losing one's soul, 
 can a reasonable man leave the matter unsettled ? 
 It has often filled me with astonishment to see 
 men of the greatest foresight and discretion in 
 worldly affairs, so ruinously careless in these. 
 They would not consent to pay a small sum of 
 money without taking a receipt ; or to live in a 
 house without insurance ; or to lend money with- 
 out security; knowing that even where neigh- 
 bours are honest, life is uncertain. But they will 
 hazard their everlasting interests upon the merest 
 chance. No one can predict what a day may 
 bring forth. Death takes most of its victims by 
 surprise. Yet the multitude live from year to 
 year without any attempt at preparation. 
 
 The undue value set upon wealth and temporal 
 prosperity, is one great cause of this recklessness. 
 All through life men are in chase of that which 
 perishes as they grasp it. Give them all that 
 their most eager wishes could demand, and you
 
 286 THE WORKING-MAN. 
 
 do not secure them for eternity. But there is a 
 good part which cannot be taken away from them. 
 
 No considerate man can reflect on his life, or 
 examine his heart without acknowledging that he 
 is a sinner against God. The whole tenor of the 
 Scriptures speaks the same truth. How am I to 
 escape the punishment due to my sin ? This is 
 the great question, on which every one ought to 
 have some settled determination. He is not a 
 wise man, who lies down at night without some 
 satisfactory hope that sudden death would not ruin 
 his happiness. 
 
 The great truths of the Christian religion lie 
 within a small compass. There is an agreement 
 among all the conflicting sects of evangelical 
 Christians as to a few cardinal points. They are 
 such as these : that by nature men are children of 
 wrath; that God will punish the impenitent; that 
 we must be born again ; that without faith it is 
 impossible to please God ; that he who believeth 
 shall be saved, and he who believes not will be 
 condemned. Further, the faith which saves us, 
 regards chiefly the Lord Jesus Christ ; that he is 
 the Son of God ; that he became man for our sal- 
 vation ; that he bore our sins in his own body on 
 the tree ; that he rose again from the dead, and 
 ascended into heaven ; and that we are justified 
 by faith in him. He who believes thus, and 
 manifests this belief by corresponding works, is 
 a true Christian. 
 
 There is reason to think that infidelity is on
 
 CONCLUSION. 287 
 
 the wane in our country. About the time of the 
 French revolution, the impious falsehoods of Vol- 
 taire were making havoc among our youth. This 
 arch-infidel once predicted that in twenty years 
 ihe Christian religion would be no more ! Those 
 who were deceived by him found nothing but dis- 
 appointment and wretchedness. Learned, witty, 
 and applauded as he was, he had less real wisdom 
 than the poorest and most ignorant Christian 
 widow. 
 
 "She, for her humble sphere by nature fit, 
 Has little understanding, and no wit ; 
 Receives no praise ; but though her lot be such, 
 Toilsome and indigent, she renders much ; 
 Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true, 
 A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew; 
 And in that charter reads with sparkling eyes 
 Her title to a treasure in the skies. 
 O happy peasant ! O unhappy bard ! 
 His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward ; 
 He praised, perhaps, for ages yet to come, 
 She never heard of half a mile from home : 
 He, lost in errors, his vain heart prefers, 
 She, safe in the simplicity of hers." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE 
 
 AMERICAN MECHANIC 
 
 AND 
 
 WORKING-MAN. 
 
 BY JAMES W. ALEXANDER. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 WILLIAM S. MARTIEN.
 
 ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 
 1847, by WILLIAM S. MARTIEN, in the Clerk's Office 
 of the District Court for the Eastern District of Penn- 
 sylvania.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 L The Mechanic's Pleasures ....... 7 
 
 II. What will you have ? 12 
 
 in. The Mechanic's Reverse 16 
 
 IV. The Mechanic's Pleasures 20 
 
 V. The Mechanic's Social Pleasures 24 
 
 VL The Mechanic's Garden M 
 
 VII. The Mechanic's Fashions 35 
 
 VIII. The Mechanic in Straits 39 
 
 DC. The Mechanic's Wife 44 
 
 X. The Mechanic doing Good 50 
 
 XI. The Mechanic's four Temptations in Hard 
 
 Times 55 
 
 XI F. The Mechanic's Vacation. 63 
 
 XHI. The Mechanic's Children ....... 9 
 
 XIV. The Mechanic's Children 75 
 
 XV. The Mechanic improved by Literature. .... 80 
 
 XVI. The Mechanic's Dog and Gun 86 
 
 XVII. The Mechanic's Mornings 92 
 
 XVIH. The Mechanic's Friends 99 
 
 XIX. The Mechanic's Change of Trade 105 
 
 XX. The Mechanic in Celibacy 113 
 
 XXI. The Mechanic's Table 119 
 
 XXII. The Mechanic's Musical Recreations 126 
 
 XXHI. The Mechanic's Clubs 134 
 
 1 5
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 XXIV. The Mechanic above his Business 142 
 
 XXV. The Mechanic in Sickness 148 
 
 XXVI. The Mechanic's Winter Evenings 155 
 
 XXVII. The Mechanic's Studies. Importance of 
 
 Education to the American Mechanic. . 161 
 tXVIII. The Mechanic's Studies. The Pleasures 
 
 of Knowledge 167 
 
 XXIX. The Mechanic's Studies. The Profit of 
 
 Knowledge * 173 
 
 XXX. The Mechanic's Studies. Discourage- 
 ments 179 
 
 XXXI. The Mechanic's Studies. Examples 185 
 
 XXXII. The Mechanic's Studies. More Exam- 
 ples Learned Shoemakers 190 
 
 XXXIII. The Mechanic's Studies. Examples of 
 
 Self-instruction 196 
 
 XXXIV. The Mechanic's Studies. Clarke Cole- 
 
 man Drew Hill Wild 203 
 
 XXXV. The Mechanic's Studies. Encourage- 
 ment to make a beginning 211 
 
 XXXVI. The Mechanic's Studies. Hints and Di- 
 rections 217 
 
 XXXVII. The Mechanic's Studies. Reading 224 
 
 XXXVIII. The Mechanic's Studies. Writing 230 
 
 XXXIX. The Mechanic's Studies. Grammar 235 
 
 XL. The Mechanic's Studies. Arithmetic and 
 
 Accounts 241 
 
 XLI. The Mechanic's Studies. History 246 
 
 XLII. The Mechanic's Studies. Chronology and 
 
 Geography 252 
 
 A 1 ,1 1 1. The Mechanic's Studies. Natural Philo- 
 sophy and Chemistry 259 
 
 XLIV. The Mechanic's Library 267 
 
 XLV. The Study of the Bible 275 
 
 XLVL The Mechanic's Religion 28 1
 
 ?,W. WAOiaHKA HKT 
 
 ...:;; ;L^IJ ,-.- J Ji dgtfotft Jim?.: I eirf sujsJ 
 
 ?s 
 THE 
 
 AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 I. 
 
 - 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASURES. 
 
 OURS is not the country where one may sneer 
 at the " mechanic." Demagogues know this ; 
 and the same agitators who would spurn the 
 " unwashed artificer," if met in some old despotic 
 realm, find it to be their true policy to flatter and 
 cajole him here. This is no part of my business. 
 I respect honest labour, though it be in the black 
 man who saws my wood ; and, so far as I can 
 learn, my ancestors have been working men so 
 long that " the memory of man runneth not to 
 the contrary." Though the motto of William of 
 Wickham is no longer good English, it is good 
 sense still MANNERS MAKETH MAN. Wherever 
 the demeanour and life of a man are good, let me 
 get as near to him as he will allow, that I may 
 
 7
 
 8 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 take his hand, though it be as black and hardened 
 as his anvil. 
 
 I am ready to maintain that the American 
 mechanic has no reason to envy any man on 
 earth. " Happy, happy men !" as an old poet 
 says, " if they could appreciate their own felicity!" 
 
 Has the mechanic no pleasures ? Let us see : 
 and in order to see better, let me use some illus- 
 trations. There is a shop near my lodgings ; 
 and I never yet saw the shop in which there was 
 not something to be learned. In this one there is 
 evidence enough that working men may have 
 cheap and abundant pleasures. Without going 
 so far as to state, what I believe firmly, that to 
 the industrious man labour is pleasure, I beg 
 'eave to introduce ARTHUR KIP. This young 
 man is a plain cooper, and lives on the extremity 
 of a street which I pass daily. He is in his shop 
 as early as his earliest neighbour, yet I some- 
 times see him busy a good half hour before he is 
 in his shop. What is Arthur about in the grey 
 of the morning ? I will tell you. He has been 
 Betting out rows of elms around the whole border 
 of his little lot. For you must know that he is 
 content to live in a very uncomfortable house, in 
 order to forward his business and prepare his 
 grounds, so as to " make a fair start," as he calls 
 it. He has told me that he was induced to do
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASURES. 9 
 
 this by a maxim of an ancient king : " Prepare 
 thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in 
 the field, and afterwards build thy house." It 
 does one good to see Arthur among his trees ; he 
 sings cheerily over his spade and hatchet, long 
 before the sun is up. " These saplings," says 
 he, " will be noble branching trees over the 
 heads of my children ; and if little Tom should 
 be a rich man thirty years hence, he will have a 
 grove which all the money of the aristocrats in 
 England could not cause to spring up." Tn this 
 he agreed well with the laird of Dumbiedikes, 
 who is known to have said on his death-bed to 
 his son and heir : " Jock, when ye hae naething 
 else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree ; it 
 will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping" 
 
 Arthur has a garden also. His rule is, " first 
 for use ; next for show." So he has most of his 
 ground in substantial vegetables for the table ; but 
 a very goodly portion, I assure you, in choice 
 flowers. Why should he not? God has given 
 the poor man these gems of the earth with a 
 bounteous profusion; and Ellen Kip and little 
 Tom will love Arthur and one another all the 
 better for dwelling among the lustre and fragrance 
 of tulips and violets. 
 
 In these bright spring evenings, I take a walk 
 about the time that this little household comes
 
 10 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 together after work. No tavern has yet become 
 Ellen's rival ; her husband spends not only his 
 nights, but his evenings, at home. Or, if he goes 
 abroad, it is in the old-fashioned way: I mean he 
 takes his wife and his boy along. At this hour 
 I am always sure of witnessing another of the 
 mechanic's pleasures. Arthur and Ellen are 
 natives of a state where young folks are taught 
 to sing: they have already begun to bring up 
 little Tom in the same way. They carry a tune 
 in several parts ; for Arthur is no mean performer 
 on the violin, and Ellen sings a soprano part to 
 her husband's base. The neighbours are be- 
 ginning to find their way out, since the spring 
 weather has unclosed doors and windows, and 
 there are some signs of a little musical associa- 
 tion. 
 
 Some of the best musical talent in America is 
 among our mechanics ; and it is sad that they are 
 so slow to discover the exquisite satisfaction 
 whicli they might derive from this innocent re- 
 creation. It soothes the troubled mind ; it breaks 
 the thread of vexing thoughts ; it prepares the 
 affections for every good impression ; it affords a 
 healthful excitement ; it knits families together by 
 gentlest bands ; and it makes a paradise of home. 
 What mechanic is there who may not com- 
 mand these pleasures ? What pleasures of the
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASURES. li 
 
 bar-room, the circus, the gaming-table, the theatre, 
 are equal to these in purity and genuine content ? 
 I am sure I shall have the right answer if not 
 from mechanics, at least from their wives. But 
 for fear of being prolix, I reserve some other 
 pleasures for a future paper.
 
 12 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 II. 
 
 WHAT WILL YOU HAVE ? 
 
 AFTER a day's work of calculation and copy- 
 ing, I was under the mortifying necessity of wait- 
 ing an hour in the tap-room of a low tavern, to 
 secure the services of a mail-guard, who was to 
 carry a parcel for my employers. Amidst the 
 smoke, the spitting, and the clatter of a crowd of 
 inn-haunters, I could not but find some subjects 
 for reflection. 
 
 The presiding genius of the bar was a bloated, 
 carbuncled, whiskered young man, whom I had 
 long known as the abandoned son of a deceased 
 friend. I sighed and was silent. Ever and anon 
 as one after another, or squads of two, three or 
 more, approached his shrine, to receive and 
 empty their glasses, and deposit their sixpences, 
 I heard the short, peremptory formula of the 
 Bacchanal minister " Wliat will yon have? 
 brandy ? gin ? punch ? What will you have ?" 
 And the victims severally made their bids, for a 
 smaller, a cocktail, a sling, or a julep, as the case 
 might be. The constant repetition of " the form
 
 WHAT WILL YOU HAVE? 13 
 
 in that case made and provided," set me upon 
 a drowsy meditation on the pregnant question 
 What will you have ? " Methinks I can answei 
 the question," said I to myself, as I cast a glance 
 around the murky apartment. And first to the 
 young shoemaker, Avho, with a pair of newly 
 finished boots, is asking for " grog." What will 
 you have ? Young man, you will soon have an 
 empty pocked 
 
 There is a trembling, ragged man, with livid 
 spots under the eyes. He is a machine-maker, 
 and has lodgings in the house. What will you 
 have ? Ah ! the bar-keeper knows without an 
 answer : he takes gin and water. Poor man ! I 
 also know what you will have. Already you 
 have been twice at death's door ; and the gin will 
 not drive off that chill. You will have typhus 
 fever. 
 
 There comes my neighbour the bookbinder. 
 tfis hand shakes as he raises his full glass. Ah, 
 Shannon ! I dread to say it but you will have 
 the palsy. 
 
 The glasses are washed out, not cleansed, in 
 the slop-tub under the bar-shelf. Now a fresh 
 bevy comes up, cigar in hand. Gentlemen, what 
 will you have ? I choose to supply the answer 
 for myself; thus: The baker there will have an 
 apoplexy or a sudden fall in his shop. That tailor 
 2
 
 14 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 in green glasses will have, or rather has already, 
 a consumption. And I fear the three idlers in 
 their train Avill have the next epidemic that 
 shall sweep off our refuse drunkards. 
 
 But what will that man have who leans over 
 the table, seeming to pore over the last " Herald" ? 
 He is scarcely resolved what he shall drink, or 
 whether he shall drink at all. I understand the 
 language of his motions ; he is a renegade from 
 the Temperance ranks. He has borrowed money 
 this week. John, you will have lodgings in a 
 jail. 
 
 Sorry indeed am I to see in this den Mr. 
 Scantling, the cooper. Not to speak of himself, 
 I have reason to believe that both his grown sons 
 are beginning to drink. He looks about him 
 suspiciously. Now he has plucked up courage. 
 He takes whisky. You will have a pair of 
 drunken sons. 
 
 That young fellow in the green frock coat and 
 coloured neckcloth, is a musician, a man of read- 
 ing, and the husband of a lovely English woman. 
 He takes his glass with the air of a Greek drink- 
 ing hemlock. You will have a heart-broken wife. 
 
 What ! is that lad of fifteen going to the bar ! 
 He is : and he tosses off his Cognac with an air. 
 You will have an early death. 
 
 The old mun that totters out of the door has
 
 WHAT WILL FOU HAVE ? 15 
 
 doubtless come hither to drown his grief. His 
 last son has died in prison, from the effects of a 
 brawl in the theatre. The father has looked un- 
 utterable anguish every sober moment for two 
 years. Wretched old man ! You will have the 
 halter of a suicide. 
 
 I must take the rest in mass, for it is Saturday 
 night, and the throng increases. The bar-keeper 
 has an assistant, in the person of a pale, sorrow- 
 ful girl. Two voices now reiterate the challenge : 
 What will you have? What will you have ? 
 
 Misguided friends, I am greatly afraid you wih 
 all have a death-bed without hope. 
 
 My man has arrived. I must go ; glad to 
 escape to purer air : and still the parrot-note re- 
 sounds in my ears, What will you have ? You 
 will have to sum up all you will have a 
 terrible judgment and an eternity of such retri- 
 bution as befits your life. 
 
 As I walked home across the common, I 
 thought thus : " And what will he have, who, day 
 after day, and month after month, and year after 
 year, doles out the devil's bounty to his recruits ; 
 and receives his sixpences, as it were, over the 
 coffin of his victims ? You, to say the least, 
 hardened tempter, (if memory live hereafter) will 
 have the recollection of your triumphs, and the 
 vision of their eternal results."
 
 16 
 
 III. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S REVERSE. 
 
 REVERSES of fortune befall all men, and a 
 sudden one befell JOSEPH LEWIS. He had enter- 
 ed on a lucrative handicraft business with more 
 capital than often comes to the hand of a cabinet- 
 maker, such as he was ; and, like a true-born 
 American, who is never willing to let anybody 
 get above him as long as he is able to rise, he 
 shone out in a style of equipage, dress, and living, 
 which was almost aristocratical. His chaise and 
 horse, his marble mantel, his greyhound, his Joe 
 Manton, his pointer, his dinner-service all 
 savoured of Bond street or St. Mark's place 
 Was he happy ? He ought to have been so. A 
 quiet, beautiful wife ; a child such as Titania 
 might have stolen ; a full warehouse and a full 
 pocket ; are just the things to make a young man 
 happy. So flushed was Joseph with success and 
 hope, that he could not find vent for his exuberant 
 satisfaction alone, or on cold water ; he invited 
 frequent groups to late dinners ; he opened bottles
 
 THE MECHANIC'S REVERSE. 17 
 
 of Hock and Sauterne ; he imported his own 
 Parmesan. 
 
 I met Joseph in Broadway. He had come to 
 town to make preparations for a ball. Was he 
 happy ? Ah ! you must answer that yourself. 
 He was abundantly fine too fine for a gentle- 
 man ; he was as smart as a barber on Sunday 
 evening, or a wedding journeyman. His hat was 
 a St. John ; his mosaic pin was Baldwin's richest 
 Tuscany; his whole manner was that of high 
 fashion, save that it was all too full of a certain 
 consciousness. And then he did so blush when 
 a brother chip passed us ; and his eye sparkled 
 with the glimmer, not of serene joy, but of unac 
 customed wine. 
 
 That day fortnight Joseph Lewis became in- 
 solvent. What a reverse ! But stay was he 
 ruined ? By no means. Let me bring forward 
 another personage, thus far a mute in the scene. 
 His wife threw her arms more passionately 
 around his neck, on that evening, than ever be- 
 fore. Was Joseph now unhappy? His great 
 house and useless stables were soon cleared. 
 Finding himself a poor man, he began life at a 
 new corner. He began, did I say? No, she 
 began; Mary Lewis began, not to assume the 
 husband's place, but to fill her own. She sang 
 a sweeter sorg after his frugal evening meal, than 
 2*
 
 18 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 had ever echoed over his sumptuous dinner from 
 New York parasites, or stage-struck clerks. Is 
 he unhappy ? Let us see : he has neither carriage 
 nor wines, but he has his hands full of work, and 
 his two yellow-haired girls sit on his knee in the 
 hour which he used to spend at the theatre. 
 He has no cards ; he gives no concerts ; but he 
 rests more sweetly at night ; and he and Mary 
 make good music on the guitar and flute, accom' 
 panying very passable voices. Last week I met 
 him again. He was carrying home a picture 
 which he had been framing. One blush arid 
 then a hearty shake of my hand, and " O 
 Charles ! come and see us we are rich enough 
 to give you a good cup of tea and my wife and 
 children will be too much rejoiced to meet 
 you." 
 
 I went, and found him quiet, healthful, self- 
 possessed, temperate, domestic ; amidst a lovely 
 home-circle ; with music, books, a few philoso- 
 phical instruments ; living within his means : in 
 a great reverse, but never so happy before. 
 
 The ancient philosophers spent a good part of 
 their time in studying out rules by which men 
 might sustain themselves under the changes of 
 fortune. I have read many of these in my 
 younger days. In none of them do I find any 
 allusion to two things which I now regard as the
 
 THE MECHANIC'S REVERSE. 19 
 
 most indispensable in every such discussion : I 
 mean domestic life and religion the hearth and 
 the altar. For when both sources of comfort 
 are united in a gently pious wife, the working 
 man who has this treasure, has that which in a 
 reverse is more precious than rubies.
 
 20 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASURES. NO. 2. , 
 
 GEORGE BROWN is a shoemaker in this village. 
 He grew up from a pale apprentice, into a still 
 paler journeyman, with little prospect of long 
 life. After being several times very low with 
 coughs, he was supposed to have fallen into a 
 consumption ; and when I came to inquire into 
 the case, I found that the physician had ordered 
 him to seek a southern climate. It was not until 
 the spring of 1835, when Brown returned from 
 New Orleans, florid and robust, that I discovered 
 what it was that had impaired his health. The 
 fact was, he had become a great reader, and had 
 most imprudently sat up a third part of his nights, 
 studying such books as he could beg, borrow, or 
 buy. 
 
 Those who have acquired no taste for learning 
 will not believe me when I say, that there is 
 scarcely a passion felt by man which is more 
 powerful than the thirst for knowledge. It has 
 slain its thousands ; and it came near slaying 
 George Brown. Why do I mention this ? Cer-
 
 \ 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASUBES. 21 
 
 tainly not to lead any promising apprentice into 
 the like snare ; but simply to show that those 
 mistake egregiously who think there is no plea- 
 , sure in reading and study. 
 
 George Brown loved knowledge as much as 
 ever, on his return from a residence of two years 
 in the South ; but he had learned wisdom from 
 experience. I have a little collection of good 
 books, and by frequent lending, I had gained 
 George's confidence. He let me into his plans. 
 He now works with a thriving boot-maker, and is 
 said to be one of his best hands ; and he is as dif- 
 ferent from his fellows in the shop, as young Bep 
 Franklin was from his fellow printers. Wherein 
 are they unlike ? Not in mere labour, for George's 
 hammer, awl, and lapstone are plied as briskly 
 as theirs ; the difference is all out of shop. While 
 they are careering through the streets, arm in 
 arm, puffing tobacco smoke, smiting the pave- 
 ment with their cudgels ; or even worse, hanging 
 about tavern doors, or playing at " all fours" with 
 a greasy pack, or doing overwork in the nine-pin 
 alley, George Brown is dividing his spare time 
 between two things, reading and recreation. 
 
 In summer, he takes a good long walk, or he 
 strays along the river bank, or he joins a party of 
 quiet friends, until he feels the labour of the day 
 to be half forgotten. Then, after a thorough cold
 
 22 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 bath, which he learned in the South to be worth 
 more than a whole medicine chest, he sits down 
 to his books. True, he never gets more than an 
 hour a day for reading, and often not ten minutes : 
 but what of that ? " Does not the jeweller," says 
 he, " save the smallest filings of his gold ?" Time 
 is gold. Every little helps. Constant dropping 
 wears away rocks. Take care of the minutes ; 
 the hours will take care of themselves. Never 
 throw away an instant. These are maxims which 
 he has laid up for life. And the young man who 
 acts on these will never fail to be a scholar. 
 
 George Brown is as happy as the day is long. 
 Being the best reader in the shop, he is, by com- 
 mon consent, permitted to read aloud from the 
 newspaper and the Penny Magazine. The boys 
 will laugh at him for a book-worm, and a parson, 
 and so forth ; but George smiles knowingly, and 
 says, " Let them laugh that win !" While he 
 labours with his hands, he is often turning over 
 iu his mind what he has read the night before. 
 Some of his evenings are spent in taking lessons 
 from an accomplished gentleman who instructs a 
 class of young men ; and others in hearing philo- 
 sophical lectures at a neighbouring Lyceum. 
 
 He has not a novel or a play-book on his 
 shelves. These he calls the champagne of read- 
 ing ; pleasant to take, but leaving you uneasy
 
 THE MECHANIC'S PLEASURES. 23 
 
 He is fond of history and travels : and books are 
 now so cheap that he has more than fifty volumes. 
 He showed me the Bible in several forms ; Jose- 
 phus ; Tytler's History ; Plutarch's Lives ; Ram- 
 sey's United States ; Mackintosh's England ; 
 Edwards's Lives of Self-Taught Men; The 
 Library of Entertaining Knowledge ; the Ram- 
 bler ; the Spectator ; Milton, Thomson, Cowper, 
 and Wordsworth ; and others of which I do not 
 remember the titles. 
 
 Here is another of the mechanic's pleasures. 
 And I am sure all who ever tried it, will agree 
 that it is the best of the three. I hope, before 
 long, to go into this subject more at large, in order 
 to encourage the reader to enter a new field. It 
 lies invitingly open to every young man who is 
 willing to enjoy it. These fruits hang near the 
 ground ; if the tree is hard to climb, it is only 
 until you reach the first boughs. Young me- 
 chanics ! take a friend's advice, and TRY.
 
 24 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S SOCIAL PLEASURES. 
 
 WHEN any man's business grows so fast as to 
 stand in the way of his being neighbourly, you 
 may lay it down as a rule that it grows too fast. 
 This is true of every sort of labour, whether of 
 the mind or the body. We were not made to be 
 unsocial, sullen, independent machines, but to 
 love and help one another. " He that is a friend 
 must show himself friendly ;" and this is to be 
 done by a pleasant and frequent intercourse with 
 acquaintances and neighbours. 
 
 No wealth, nor power, nor selfish pleasure, can 
 ever compensate for the absence of kindly inter- 
 course. Working men may work so hard as to 
 work out their best native propensities. In our 
 haste to make money, let us look to it that we do 
 uot lose what no money can buy true friendship. 
 
 The tendency to form friendly connexions and 
 cultivate associations is so strong, that where it 
 has not a good outlet, it will find a bad one. If 
 a young man is not allowed to enjoy company at 
 home, he will enjoy it at the tavern, or some
 
 THE MECHANIC'S SOCIAL PLEASURES. 25 
 
 worse place. I find it in my heart to honour that 
 principle of our nature which abhors a vacuum, 
 and cries out that it is not good for man to be 
 alone. The parent, the teacher, and the employer, 
 in proportion as they seek the welfare of the 
 youth under their care, will try to afford healthful 
 exercise to the social principle. 
 
 Let me ask old housekeepers, whether amidst 
 the great improvements of the times, there is not 
 a change for the worse in our domestic and social 
 intercourse. How did this matter stand some 
 thirty years ago ? Much as follows. John Den 
 and Richard Fen, when they established them- 
 selves in this village, were both lately married, and 
 had little families gathering like olive branches 
 round their tables. They had worked in the 
 same shop, and they remembered it. They had 
 been apprentices of the old stamp, labouring a 
 good seven years, and making six working days 
 in every week. They knew one another thorough- 
 ly, and kept up a friendly communication. 
 Scarcely a day passed in which John was not in 
 T Richard's shop, or Richard in John's : and Mrs. 
 Den and Mrs. Fen ran across to one another often 
 half a dozen times in a day. Their children grew 
 up as friends, and once every week they made a 
 joint concern, and took tea together. There was 
 then but one grog house in the village, and neither 
 3
 
 26 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 of these men was ever seen in it, except when 
 Richard had occasion to go thither in his capacity 
 of constable. It was a pleasant way of life. The 
 little circle increased ; and other families quietly 
 fell into the same arrangements ; so that, as I well 
 remember, you could scarcely ever sit an hour of a 
 summer's evening, in the house of any one of 
 these mechanics, without witnessing the friendly 
 entrance of a number of the neighbours. They 
 did one another good, and their friendships, how- 
 ever humble, were comparatively pure. 
 
 But how does this matter stand now ? Much 
 as follows. John Den and Richard Fen are dead 
 and gone. In their place there are Dens and 
 Fens, and husbands of Dens and Fens enough 
 to people a town in Illinois. Business is driven 
 on in double quick time. George Washington 
 Den has more journeymen this moment than his 
 good father ever had in all his life. Napoleon 
 Fen makes more money in one year than old 
 Richard ever possessed. Meet these men where 
 you will, and you will find them in a hurry. 
 They are rushing forward, and can no more pause 
 than can a railroad car. Their social intercourse 
 is hasty, fitful, irregular, unsatisfactory, and 
 feverish. Their earnings are spent at political 
 meetings, at Trades' Unions, at entertainments, 
 at taverns in short, anywhere but at home.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S SOCIAL PLEASURES. 27 
 
 Their sons and daughters are very fine, and gay, 
 and to a certain degree polished ; but they are 
 growing up in total ignorance of that old-fashioned, 
 wholesome, serene, and profitable intercourse, 
 which gave to their parents an unwrinkled old 
 age. 
 
 What is to be done ? I think the remedy is 
 obvious ; but I fear most will resist it. We must 
 return to simplicity of manners. We must 
 cease to live so fast. We must take a little 
 breath, and persuade ourselves that there are other 
 and higher purposes to which hours may be de- 
 voted, than the earning of so many dollars and 
 cents. It is poor economy of life to lay out all 
 our time on mere gain, when by so doing we 
 actually bid fair to make life not only shorter but 
 less sweet. 
 
 Among the thousand evils of our unreformed 
 taverns, it is not the least, that every one of them 
 is the rival of some score of firesides. The real 
 competition is between the bar-room and the sit- 
 ting-room. License a new tavern, and you dig a 
 sluice which draws off just so much from do- 
 mestic comfort. Write it down for it is true 
 whenever you see a young man standing much 
 on tavern steps or porch, you see one who has 
 little thrift, and who will die poor, even if he do 
 not die drunk.
 
 S8 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 It is the great error of many parents to discoui 
 age evening visits between their own children 
 and those of their neighbours. What is the con- 
 sequence ? The young men will and must have 
 company. If they are frowned on at home, they 
 will spend their evenings abroad. And as no 
 youth can very freely visit young companions 
 whom he is not allowed to entertain in return, 
 the young men of these churlish families will be 
 found at the bar-room. Here is a wide sluice 
 prepared for intemperance and vice. Already, in 
 some towns, all the associations of working men 
 are in the streets or in public places. The evil 
 cries aloud for speedy reformation. Who will 
 set the example ?
 
 THE MECHANIC'S GARDEN. 29 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S GARDEN. 
 
 IN the garden the mechanic finds a sort of re- 
 lief from his toils of mind, which he can nowhere 
 else find so cheaply. Let it not be thought strange 
 that I speak of toils of mind. Every physician 
 knows that it is the jaded soul, no less than the 
 jaded body, which brings to his office the pale 
 and tremulous working man. This may be seen 
 in comparing different trades. The house car- 
 penter, who works here and there, in every va- 
 riety of situation, and most of all in the open air 
 or the well-ventilated shed, shows a very differ- 
 ent complexion from the tailor, the shoemaker, or 
 the printer, who tasks himself from morning till 
 night in the same spot. No man is called upon 
 to spend all his hours at one sort of work. He 
 who does so, works too much, and injures both 
 mind and body. We all need elbow-room, rest- 
 ing-places, and breathing-spells, in every part of 
 the journey of life. 
 
 It is often asked why we have so few good 
 musicians among the mechanics of this country 
 3*
 
 30 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 One reason is, that they allow themselves so little 
 time. From morning until night, it is hurry, 
 hurry, hurry ! Few men ever accomplished more 
 than John Wesley, and his motto was, Always 
 in haste, but never in a hurry. It is good to go 
 out of doors sometimes, if it were only to cool 
 down this American fever of the blood. 
 
 You are in too great a hurry to be rich, or you 
 could take an hour before breakfast, and an hour 
 after tea, for the purpose of healthful recreation ; 
 besides a good quiet hour in the middle of the 
 day for absolute rest, including your principal 
 meal. 
 
 "Ay, but I am already behindhand, and I must 
 husband every moment to bring up arrears." 
 
 Perhaps so : and this is only an evidence of 
 bad management somewhere, in time past. Ne- 
 cessity has no law ; but you ought to plan such 
 a life as, by the blessing of Providence, may keep 
 the wolf away from the door, and not leave you 
 the prey ef urgent necessity. You have already 
 lost days by ill health ; and this ill health was 
 brought on by neglect of the laws of your animal 
 economy ; and one of these fundamental laws is, 
 that a machine always running in gear, and never 
 oiled or refitted, must go to pieces. Take your 
 spade and hoe and rake, and come with me into 
 the garden.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S GARDEN. 31 
 
 "I have no garden." 
 
 No garden ! why, what is that little enclosure 
 which I see behind your house ? 
 
 " O, it was once a garden but but " 
 
 Yes, I see how it is ; it was once a garden, 
 but you have made it a rubbish-heap. See there, 
 your cow is actually devouring a row of good 
 spinach, this instant. Yes, yes where your gar- 
 den should be, you have a vile hog-stye ; and 
 there is your ley-tub dripping away in the pret- 
 tiest corner of your court-yard. 
 
 " Why, to be sure, we have let matters ga 
 rather at sixes and sevens back here ; my wood 
 and coal are thrown over the fence, and we have 
 chopped our fuel in the old garden path ; but there 
 nobody ever comes to see this part of the estab- 
 lishment." 
 
 Surely, your wife and children see it; you 
 see it yourself: I am afraid you would never 
 wash your face if no one were to see you. This 
 will never do. Take your spade and come out 
 of this stupor. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I have no spade 1" 
 
 The more shame for you ! Then throw off 
 that apron, and go with me to the hardware shop, 
 and I will pick you a good one, and we will get 
 Barney to sharpen it, and go to work. 
 
 "I feel weary and dull I have a headache
 
 32 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 from leaning over my work so long ; I am not fit 
 to dig." 
 
 Yes, you are dull enough ; and duller yet you 
 will be, unless you amend your ways. Your 
 skin is dry and sallow ; your eyes are heavy ; 
 you are getting a sad stoop in your shoulders ; 
 you are not the active, cheerful man you once 
 were. In fact you are this moment ten years 
 older than you have any right to be. 
 
 " I know it I know it ! My wife has said 
 so every day for a twelvemonth. I know it^ 
 but what can I do ? I have eaten half a hundred 
 of bran bread ; I have taken three boxes of pills." 
 
 Miserable man ! I wonder you are not in your 
 coffin ! Throw your bran bread and your pills 
 into the swill pail. 
 
 *' But, dear sir, what must I do ?" 
 
 Do ! Take your spade, as I have been telling 
 you. Here, I will show you how to begin. You 
 have a very decent lot there ; only it has seven 
 or eight boards off the fence. 
 
 " Yes, they have been coming off all winter." 
 
 Surprising ! and you have slept over it all 
 this time ! Here, John ! Jacob ! Call out your 
 apprentices for five minutes. Let me take the 
 command. Bill can stay and have an eye to cus- 
 tomers. John, run to Mr. Deal's for his saw. 
 Jacob,' pull out that pile of old boards from under
 
 THE MECHANIC'S GARDEN. 33 
 
 the wheelbarrow. I'll take my coat off, and if 
 your strength allows, perhaps you had better take 
 yours off too. We shall have this breach stop- 
 ped in ten minutes, if you can produce a hand 
 ful of nails. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Quill, I really never thought 01 
 this way before !" 
 
 I should like to know what other way there 
 is ! " Off coat, and at it," is the only way I am 
 acquainted with. 
 
 " Now you have the fence up, what next ?" 
 
 Clear off this rubbish. Rake together these 
 stalks of last year's weeds, and burn them. 
 Gather out the thousand and one sticks, and 
 stones, and old shoes. Get a bit of'old cord and 
 mark out some walks. Furnish yonrself with 
 tools, and begin to-morrow morning by sunrise 
 to dig up the ground. I will be ready to give 
 you seeds and plants ; and by this day week, my 
 vrord for it, you will show some circulation in 
 your wan cheeks, and not look so black under 
 the eyes. The only pity is, that you should not 
 have had your peas and beans in ten days ago : 
 but better late than never. 
 
 When God made man, he placed in his hand 
 the spade and pruning-hook. When God re- 
 stored man to the beautiful earth, after the flood, 
 he promised not to curse the ground any more,
 
 34 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ana to give seed-time and harvest as duly as day 
 and night. When God spake to man, he conde- 
 scended to use the language of the gardener; for 
 the gentlest invitations and incitements of Holy 
 Writ come to us breathing the odours of the 
 " rose of Sharon," the " fig-tree and the vine," 
 and the " lily of the valleys." And I am fain to 
 believe that in the cool morning hour, when, with 
 devout thankfulness, the father of an humble 
 family, with his little ones about him, gently tills 
 his plot of ground, training his vines, and water- 
 ing his tender herbs, God often condescends in 
 the secrecy of a heart brought into harmony with 
 nature, to whisper words of awful grace. 
 
 I entreat my friends of the labouring classes to 
 cultivate the earth. I entreat them to take ad- 
 vantage of every little nook of ground about their 
 dwellings. Flowers are the gems of the soil ; 
 we ought to nurture, to gather, and to enjoy 
 them. I shrink from the denaturalized creature 
 who has outlived his childish love of flowers. 
 Better have a gay garden than a gay parlour ; bet- 
 ter keep a bed of tulips than a horse and chaise. 
 " When ages grow to civility and elegancy, men 
 come to build stately sooner than to garden finely ; 
 as if gardening were the greater perfection." So 
 saith my Lord Bacon.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FASHIONS. 35 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FASHIONS. 
 
 EVERY one is ready enough to cry out against 
 the tyranny of fashion, yet almost every one 
 meekly submits. Here and there, in my daily 
 walks, I fall in with a few elderly men, fellows 
 of the old school, who prefer comfort to appear- 
 ances. You may know them a hundred yards off, 
 by the easy, contented, independent carriage of 
 their bodies, and the fulness and simplicity of 
 their garb. The cut of their coats is not very 
 unlike that of the year eighteen hundred, and 
 their red cheeks would dissolve in a healthy 
 smile if you should speak to them of the reign- 
 ing mode. 
 
 I am no friend to mere fashion as a directress 
 of life ; she is a capricious sultana who mocks 
 us into disguises, and then punishes us for com- 
 pliance. Who can tell the money out of which 
 she has cheated the mechanics of America ! 
 
 If we were systematically inclined, we migh* 
 draw up a brief, as thus : I. Fashion in general. 
 II. Fashion in particulars. 1. In dress. 2. In 
 equipage. 3. In furniture. 4. In living. 5. In
 
 36 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 manners. 6. In opinions. 7. In religion. But 
 before I could reach the remaining specifica- 
 tions I might possibly wax wearisome. Let us 
 forbear undue method. 
 
 FREDERICK FITZ-FRANCIS, in despite of his 
 name, is a haberdasher ; so he used to be called 
 in Cheapside, but in America, where rivers, cata- 
 racts, and names, are bigger than in the old world, 
 he is a dry goods merchant. He is a proper 
 man, and the very mirror of gentility, giving the 
 ray after its third or fourth reflection ; his neck- 
 cloth is immaculate ; his collar pokes beyond his 
 black whiskers, in the precise acute angle which 
 is just the thing. Not long since he chose to 
 call on his neighbour and former friend, THOMAS 
 CHUBB, the carriage-maker, who had recently 
 established himself in a new house. 
 
 " Well, Chubb," said Mr. Fitz-Francis, " I 
 thought I would look in upon ye." 
 
 " I am sure you are welcome, Frederick, and I 
 snail be pleased to show you over my new house." 
 
 " Just what I came for ; but look ye, Chubb, I 
 don't like this arrangement of your court-yard. 
 Nobody in town has such a space laid out in 
 llowers." 
 
 Here Chubb smiled. 
 
 " Let us go in. How is this ! Upon my word 
 you can't be furnished yet, in this parlor."
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FASHIONS. 37 
 
 "Yes, I am ; what's the matter?" 
 
 " Matter ! Why I don't know, but things 
 have a very odd, unfashionable look." 
 
 " Perhaps so, Frederick ; I am not a man of 
 fashion, though I sometimes turn out a fashionable 
 carriage. But what is wrong ?" 
 
 " Why, your chairs are very droll." 
 
 " Are they ? Just sit in one of them, and tell 
 me whether you find them easy." 
 
 " Pshaw ! that is not the thing. Hem ah 
 on my word, they are uncommonly easy, but out 
 of date nobody has the like." 
 
 " Very likely ; they were made in my own 
 shop, and after my own plan, and they are wider, 
 lower, and softer than any chairs in town." 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Chubb ! have you not a pier- 
 glass ?" 
 
 " None, I assure you. If you wish to dress, 
 or look at your whiskers, I have an old mirror 
 in the other room." 
 
 " Come, come, no drollery : but surely you 
 mean to introduce a centre-table." 
 
 " Not I," said Chubb ; " I find it irksome to 
 look at a toy-table, with playthings, albums, and 
 little smelling-bottles, standing forever in the 
 way." And he smiled to think that even Mr. 
 Fitz was here behind the fashion. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Chubb, if you are bent upon 
 4
 
 38 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 saving and living without expense, pray be con- 
 sistent, and carry matters out. Why have you 
 these oil paintings on your walls ? They must 
 have cost you more than a pier-glass or a claw- 
 foot table." 
 
 " They did ; and I am not bent on saving. 
 The pictures gratify my taste ; the gimcracks 
 would have been only a tax paid to that of other 
 people. Where money gives me or my frienos 
 real comfort, or innocent pleasure, or solid profit, 
 I grudge it not ; but not a cent in mere aping of 
 others. I wear a high-priced boot, but I take 
 care that it shall not pinch my toes into corns. 
 That sofa, on the other hand, cost me but fifteen 
 dollars, but it is as comfortable as a bed. And 
 that homely piece of furniture which you are 
 eyeing with so much contempt, is an old organ 
 which my wife's father once played on, and 
 which my daughter is beginning to touch quite 
 pleasantly. You perceive I am what the world 
 considers an odd fellow ; but I find independent 
 satisfaction in abstaining from a chase after ever- 
 varying modes. Even you, allow me to hint, 
 are only half-way in the race, and are as ridicu- 
 lous in the eyes of the grandees you imitate, as I 
 am in yours. Come in this evening, and we will 
 show you our fashions in food."
 
 THE MECHANIC IN STRAITS. 39 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC IN STRAITS. 
 
 HISTORIANS have been busy for several thou- 
 sands of years, but they have not described any 
 one class of men which is exempt from trouble. 
 The most sturdy beggars, in the greatest paradise 
 of mendicity, are sometimes brought to a non- 
 plus. Belisarius, the champion of the wealthiest 
 empire yet recorded, was reduced to beg his 
 farthing. And a European king, in the last 
 century, died penniless in England. 
 K After this becoming preface, we may go fairly 
 to work on our subject. I heartily sympathize 
 with the man who is reduced to want, without 
 his own fault ; especially if he is a man who earns 
 his bread with the sweat of his brow ; and, most 
 of all, if he has to share his sorrow and loss with 
 a confiding wife and helpless children. There 
 are many such, for we meet them in almost every 
 walk, downcast and unemployed ; there are more 
 than we at first suppose, for the greatest sufTerers 
 shun the glare of observation. 
 
 American mechanics are said to love money,
 
 40 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 and Mrs. Trollope writes, that one cannot hear 
 two Americans talking together for five minutes, 
 without the repetition of the word dollar. Jeremy 
 Bentham makes the same remark of the lower 
 English, except that for dollar he reads beer. 
 Europeans seem resolved to fix on us the charge 
 of loving gold. If this be true in any discredit- 
 able sense, it is so in a sense different from that 
 of the olden time. The money-lover of our day 
 is bad enough, but he is not the miser of old 
 stories. He grasps, but does not hoard. The 
 excitement which drives him on to rapid gains is 
 only one branch of a wider excitement having 
 many branches, characteristic of our time and 
 country, and susceptible of a direction to good as 
 well as evil. The old-time moneyMnaker was a 
 tortoise, und when a storm came he closed his 
 shell. The modern money-maker is a bird of 
 the air ; the tempest drenches, and peradventure 
 stuns him, but at the first laughing sunshine he 
 is again on the wing. Let the mechanic in straits 
 hope strongly for deliverance. Many are now 
 reduced to great difficulties by changes in the 
 commercial world, which they had no hand in 
 producing. In such circumstances, when the 
 father of a family sees the dearest object of his 
 affections brought into want and distress, there is 
 a great temptation to discontent and repining.
 
 THE MECHANIC IN STRAITS. 41 
 
 This tendency must be resisted ; it never did any 
 good, and it never can. No man ever gained by 
 grumbling. Complaint, recriminations, and even 
 curses, serve neither to make the hunger smaller 
 nor the loaf larger. Stick a pin there, and con- 
 sider. Here is a starting point. 
 
 Not many hours ago I heard Uncle Benjamin 
 discoursing this matter to his son, who was com- 
 plaining of the pressure. " Rely upon it, Sammy," 
 said the old man, as he leaned on his staff, with 
 his gray locks flowing in the breeze of a May 
 morning, " murmuring pays no bills. I have 
 been an observer any time these fifty years, and 
 I never saw a man helped out of a hole by 
 cursing his horses. Be as quiet as you can, for 
 nothing will grow under a moving harrow, and 
 discontent harrows the mind. Matters are bad, I 
 acknowledge, but no ulcer is any the better for fin- 
 gering. The more you groan the poorer you grow. 
 
 " Repining at losses is only putting pepper 
 into a sore eye. Crops will fail in all soils, and 
 we may be thankful that we have not a famine. 
 Besides, I always took notice that whenever I 
 felt the rod pretty smartly, it was as much as to 
 say, ' Here is something which you have got to 
 learn.' Sammy, don't forget that your school- 
 ing is not over yet, though you have a wife and 
 two children." 
 
 4*
 
 42 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 " Ay," cried Sammy, " you may say that, 
 ind a mother-in-law and two apprentices into the 
 bargain. And I should like to know what a poor 
 man can learn here, when the greatest scholars 
 and lawyers are at loggerheads, and can't for 
 their lives tell what has become of the hard 
 money." 
 
 " Softly, Sammy ! I am older than you. I 
 have not got these gray hairs and this crooked 
 back without some burdens. I could tell you 
 stories of the days of continental money, when 
 my grandfather used to stuff a sulky-box with 
 bills in order to pay for a yearling or a wheat- 
 fan ; and when Jersey-women used thorns for 
 pins, and laid their teapots away in the garret. 
 You wish to know what you may learn ? You 
 may learn these seven things : 
 
 "First, That you have saved too little and 
 spent too much. I never taught you to be a 
 miser, but I have seen you giving your dollar for 
 a ' notion,' when you might have laid one half 
 aside for charity, and another half for a rainy day. 
 
 " Secondly, That you have gone too much 
 upon credit. I always told you that credit was a 
 shadow ; it shows that there is a substance be- 
 hind, which casts the shadow ; but a small body 
 may cast a great shadow ; and no wise man will 
 follow the shadow any further than he can see
 
 THE MECHANIC IN STRAITS. 43 
 
 substance. You may now learn that you have 
 followed the opinion and fashion of others till 
 you have been deooyed into a bog. 
 
 " Thirdly, That you have been in too much 
 haste to become rich. Slow and easy wins the 
 race. 
 
 " Fourthly, That no course of life can be de- 
 vended on as always prosperous. I am afraid 
 the younger race of working men in America 
 have had a notion that nobody could go to ruin 
 on this side of the water. Providence has greatly 
 blessed us, but we have become presumptuous. 
 
 " Fifthly, That you have not been thankful 
 enough to God for his benefits in time past. 
 
 "Sixthly, That you may be thankful that 
 our lot is no worse ; we might have famine, or 
 pestilence, or war, or tyranny, or all together. 
 
 " And lastly, to end my sermon, you may learn 
 to offer with more understanding the prayer of 
 your infancy, ' Give us this day our daily 
 bread. 1 " 
 
 The old man ceased, and Sammy put on his 
 apron, and told Dick to blow away at the forge- 
 bellows.
 
 44 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WI?E. 
 
 IN America, every mechanic is supposed to 
 nave, or to be about to have, a wife. The many 
 thousands of these spouses are divided into sorts. 
 Thus we have good and bad ; very good and 
 very bad ; unspeakably good and insufferably 
 bad; and as a sort gf par expression toler- 
 able. It is not every good woman who is a 
 good wife ; nor is it every good wife who is a 
 good wife for the mechanic. A working man 
 needs a working wife ; but as to qualities of 
 mind, manners, and morals, she cannot run too 
 high in the scale. There is an error prevalent 
 concerning this. 
 
 GILES says, " I do not want a wife with too 
 much sense." Why not? Perhaps Giles will 
 not answer ; but the shrug of his shoulders an- 
 swers, " Because I am afraid she will be an 
 overmatch for me." Giles talks like a simple- 
 ton. The unfortunate men who have their ty- 
 rants at home are never married to women of 
 sense. Genuine elevation of mind cannot prompt
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WIFE. 45 
 
 any one, male or female, to go out of his or her 
 proper sphere. No man ever suffered from an 
 overplus of intelligence, whether in his own 
 head or his wife's. 
 
 HODGE says, " I will not marry a girl who has 
 too much manners." Very well, Hodge : you 
 are right ; too much of any thing is bad. But 
 consider what you say. Perhaps you mean that 
 a fine lady would not suit you. Very true ; I 
 should not desire to see you joined for life to 
 what is called a " fine lady," to wit, to a woman 
 who treats you as beneath her level, sneers at 
 your friends, and is above her business. But 
 this is not good manners. Real good manners 
 and true politeness are equally at home in courts 
 and farm houses. This quality springs from na- 
 ture, and is the expression of unaffected good will. 
 Even in high life, the higher you go the simpler 
 do manners become. Parade and " fuss" of man- 
 ners are the marks of half-bred people. True 
 simplicity and native good will, and kind regard 
 for the convenience and feelings of others, will 
 ensure good manners, even in a kitchen : and I 
 have seen many a vulgar dame in an assembly, 
 and many a gentlewoman in an humble shed. 
 Nay, your wife must have good manners. 
 
 RALPH declares, " I hope I may never have a 
 wife who is too strict and moral." Now, my
 
 46 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 good Ralph, you talk nonsense. Who taught 
 you that cant? I perceive you do not know 
 what you mean. Are you afraid your wife will 
 be too virtuous ? 
 
 " Bless me ! no." 
 
 Then you rather prefer a moral wife to an im- 
 moral one ? 
 
 " Surely." 
 
 Are you afraid, then, of a religious wife ? 
 
 " Why something like that was in my head ; 
 for there is neighbour Smith's wife, who gives 
 him no peace of his life, she is so religious." 
 
 Let me hear how she behaves herself. 
 
 " Why, she is forever teaching the children 
 out of the Bible." 
 
 Indeed ! And you, Ralph, are an enemy of 
 the Bible ? 
 
 "O, no! But then ahem there is reason 
 in all things." 
 
 Yes, and the reason you have just given is that 
 of a child, and, like the child's because, is made 
 to do hard service. But let me understand you. 
 Does Mrs. Smith teach the children any thing 
 wrong T 
 
 " O, no 1 But plague it all ! if one of them 
 hears Smith let fly an oath, it begins to preach 
 at him." 
 
 Then you wish, when you have children, to
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WIPE. 47 
 
 have liberty to teach them all the usual oaths and 
 curses, and obscene jokes that are common. 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Quill, you won't understand 
 me." 
 
 Yes, I understand you fully : it is you, Ralph, 
 who do not understand yourself. Look here. 
 Mrs. Smith is so religious that if she proceeds as 
 she has begun, her children will break their father 
 of his low blasphemies. I hope you may get 
 just such a wife. 
 
 " But then, Smith can't spend a couple of 
 hours at the tavern for fear of his wife !" 
 
 Ah ! what does he go to the tavern for ? 
 
 " Just to sit and chat, and drink a little." 
 
 And how does his wife interfere ? Does she 
 fetch him home ? 
 
 " No." 
 
 Does she chastise him on his return ? 
 
 " O, no !" 
 
 Does she scold him then ? 
 
 " No." 
 
 What is it then that disturbs him ? 
 
 " "Why, she looks so solemn and mournful, 
 and shuts herself up so and cries, whenever he 
 is a little disguised, that the man has no satisfac- 
 tion." 
 
 Good ! And I pray he may have none until he 
 alters his course of life.
 
 48 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 A proper self-respect would teach every noble- 
 hearted American, of whatever class, that he 
 cannot set too high a value on the conjugal rela- 
 tion. We may judge of the welfare and honour 
 of a community by its wives and mothers. Op- 
 portunities for acquiring knowledge, and even ac- 
 complishments, are happily open to every class 
 above the very lowest ; and the wise mechanic 
 will not fail to choose such a companion as may 
 not shame his sons and daughters in that coming 
 age, when an ignorant American shall be as ob- 
 solete as a fossil fish. 
 
 Away with flaunting, giggling, dancing, squan- 
 dering, peevish, fashion-hunting wives ! The 
 woman of this stamp is a poor comforter when 
 the poor husband is sick or bankrupt. Give me 
 the house-wife, who can be a " help-meet" to her 
 Adam : 
 
 " For nothing lovelier can be found 
 
 In woman, than to study household good, 
 And good works in her husband to promote." 
 
 I have such a mechanic's wife in my mind's 
 eye : gentle as the antelope, untiring as the bee, 
 joyous as the linnet; neat, punctual, modest, con- 
 fiding. She is patient, but resolute ; aiding in 
 counsel, reviving in troubles, ever pointing out 
 the brightest side, and concealing nothing but her
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WIFE. 49 
 
 owu sorrows. She loves her home, believing 
 with Milton, that 
 
 1 The wife, where danger and dishonour lurks, 
 Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, 
 Who guards her, or with her the worst endures." 
 
 The place of woman is eminently at the fire- 
 side. It is at home that you must see her, to 
 know who she is. It is less material what she 
 is abroad ; but what she is in the family circle is 
 all-important. It is bad merchandise, in any de- 
 partment of trade, to pay a premium for other 
 men's opinions. In matrimony, he who selects a 
 wife for the applause or wonder of his neigh- 
 bours, is in a fair way towards domestic bank- 
 ruptcy. Having got a wife, there is but one 
 rule honour and love her. Seek to improve 
 her understanding and her heart. Strive to make 
 her more and more such an one as you can cor- 
 dially respect. Shame on the brute in man's 
 shape, who can affront or vex, not to say neglect, 
 the woman who has embarked with him for life, 
 " for better, for worse," and whose happiness, 
 if severed from his smiles, must be unnatural and 
 monstrous. In fine, I am proud of nothing in 
 America so much as of our American wives. 
 5
 
 50 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 X. 
 
 THE MECHANIC DOING GOOD. 
 
 THE duties of life are not all of the great and 
 exciting sort. There are many duties in every 
 day ; but there are few days in which one is called 
 to mighty efforts or heroic sacrifices. I am per- 
 suaded that most of us are better prepared for 
 great emergencies, than for the exigencies of the 
 passing hour. Paradox as this is, it is tenable, 
 and may be illustrated by palpable instances. 
 There are many men who would, without the 
 hesitation of an instant, plunge into the sea to 
 rescue a drowning child, but who, the very next 
 hour, would break an engagement, or sneer at 
 an awkward servant, or frown unjustly on an 
 amiable wife. 
 
 Life is made up of these little things. Accord- 
 ing to the character of household words, looks, 
 and trivial actions, is the true temper of our 
 virtue. Hence there are many men reputed good, 
 and, as the world goes, really so, who belie in 
 domestic life the promise of their holiday and 
 Sunday demeanour. Great in the large assembly,
 
 THE MECHANIC DOING GOOD. 51 
 
 they are little at the fireside. Leaders, perhaps, 
 of public benevolence, they plead for universal 
 love, as the saving principle of the social com- 
 pact ; yet, when among their dependents, they are 
 peevish, morose, severe, or in some other way 
 constantly sinning against the law of kindness. 
 
 Why do you begin to do good so far off? 
 This is a reigningerror. Begin at the centre and 
 work outwards. If you do not love your wife, 
 do not pretend to such love for the people of the 
 antipodes. If you let some family grudge, some 
 peccadillo, some undesirable gesture, sour your 
 visage towards a sister or a daughter, pray cease 
 to preach beneficence on the large scale. 
 
 What do you mean by " doing good" ? Is it 
 not increasing human happiness ? Very well ! 
 But whose happiness ? Not the happiness of A, 
 B, or C, in the planet Saturn, but that of fellow 
 terrestrials ; not of the millions you never see, so 
 much as that of the hundreds or scores whom 
 you see every day. Begin to make people happy. 
 It is a good work it is the best work. Begin, not 
 next door, but within your own door ; with your 
 next neighbour whether relative, servant, or 
 superior. Account the man you meet the man 
 you are to bless. Give him such things as you 
 have. " How can I make him or her happier ?" 
 This is the question. If a dollar will do it, give
 
 52 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 the dollar. If advice will do it, give advice. If 
 chastisement will do it, give chastisement. If a 
 look, a smile, or warm pressure of the hand, or a 
 tear will do it, give the look, smile, hand, or tear. 
 But never forget that the happiness of our world 
 is a mountain of golden sands, and that it is your 
 part to cast some contributory atom almost every 
 moment. 
 
 I would hope that such suggestions, however 
 hackneyed, will not be without their influence 
 
 " On that best portion of a good man's life, 
 His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
 Of kindness and of love."* 
 
 In a season of great reverses and real suffering 
 in the mercantile and manufacturing world, there 
 is occasion for the luxury of doing good. The 
 happiest mechanic I ever knew was a hatter, who 
 had grown rich, and who felt himself thereby ex- 
 alted only in this sense, that his responsibility as 
 a steward was increased. It was sacred wealth, 
 
 " For God, who gave the riches, gave the heart 
 To sanctify the whole, by giving part."t 
 
 The poorest man may lessen his neighbour's 
 load. He who has no gold may give what gold 
 cannot purchase. If religion does not make men 
 
 * Wordsworth's Tintcrn Abbey. t Dryden.
 
 THE MECHANIC DOING GOOD. 53 
 
 who profess it more ready to render others happy, 
 it is a pretence. We are to be judged at the 
 last by this rule. The inquiry is to be especially 
 concerning our conduct towards the sick, the 
 prisoner, the pauper, and the foreigner. The 
 neighbour whom we are to love is our next door 
 neighbour ; that is, the man who falls in our way. 
 The Samaritan knew this. It* was but a small 
 pittance he gave : the poorest among us may go 
 and do likewise. Do not allow a townsman, or 
 a stranger, or even an emigrant, to suffer for lack 
 of your endeavours. It will cost you little, but 
 it will be much to him. 
 
 " 'Tis a little thing 
 
 To give a cup of water ; yet its draught 
 Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, 
 May give a shock of pleasure to the frame 
 More exquisite than when nectarean juice 
 Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. 
 It is a little thing to speak a phrase 
 Of common comfort which by daily use 
 Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear 
 Of him who thought to die unmourned 'twill fall 
 Like choicest music."* 
 
 Let no one be surprised at my quoting choice 
 poetry to mechanics. Servile boors may stare in 
 amaze ; but the American mechanic is no boor. 
 
 * Mr. Sergeant Talfourd. 
 5*
 
 54 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 Who shall dare to say that the poorest journey- 
 man may not reach forth his hand in the garden 
 of the muses ? And who shall deny to the honest 
 labourer the solace of doing good ? It is the best 
 work, in the worst times. Help others and you 
 relieve yourself. Go out, and drive away the 
 cloud from that distressed friend's brow, and you 
 will return with 'a lighter heart. Take heed to 
 the little things the trifling, unobserved lan- 
 guage or action passing in a moment. A syl- 
 lable may stab a blessed hope : a syllable may 
 revive the dying. A frown may crush a gentle 
 heart ; the smile of forgiveness may relieve from 
 torture. He that is faithful in that which is least, 
 is faithful also in much ; and he that is unjust in 
 the least, is unjust also in much.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FOUR TEMPTATIONS. 5-5 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FOUR TEMPTATIONS IN 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 OF the city of Trenton there was a plumber, 
 of quiet life and good habits, and his name was 
 SIMON STARK. We met in the market on a fine 
 morning, and talked over the distresses of the 
 times ; for I sometimes go to the seats of justice 
 and legislation, and always take pains to survey 
 the public gatherings. I perceived that Simon 
 was in trouble. He was out of employment, out 
 of money, and out of heart. So sad was his 
 visage, that I thought of him all day, and then 
 dreamed of him at night; and my dream was 
 this. 
 
 I saw Simon sitting under the light of the new 
 moon, at his back door, which looks into a small 
 garden. The scent of roses and Bermuda grape 
 vines filled the air. He clasped his hands and 
 looked upward. Occasionally, the voice of his 
 wife, hushing to sleep a half-famished child, 
 caused him to groan. Simon was pondering on
 
 56 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 the probable sale of his little place, and the beg- 
 gary of his family. 
 
 A heavy eloud passed over. A thin silvery 
 haze veiled the surrounding shrubbery. An un- 
 accustomed whispering sound was heard, and Si 
 mon rubbed his eyes and looked up wistfully, 
 
 From amidst the vapour, a figure dimly seen 
 emerged into the space before the porch, as if 
 about to speak. It resembled a haggard old man. 
 He seated himself near Simon, who shuddered a 
 little, for the visiter was lank and wretched in 
 appearance, and his hollow eye shot out the 
 glare of a viper. Hatred and anguish were 
 blended into one penetrating expression. He 
 trembled as he spoke, and I could now and then 
 catch a word, which seemed to be injurious to 
 the character of various persons. Simon was 
 much moved, and ever and anon clenched his fist, 
 smote his thigh, and muttered, " True, true ! all 
 men are liars all men are oppressors all men 
 are my enemies !" 
 
 The old man drew nearer, and spoke more 
 audibly : " Simon, you are a discerning person. 
 You have been wronged. The habits of society 
 are tyrannical. The rich grind you to the dust. 
 The poor cheat you and rejoice in your woes. 
 Learn wisdom ; forget your idle forbearance ;
 
 r THE MECHANIC'S FOUR TEMPTATIONS. 57 
 
 cease from womanish love to the race. They 
 are all alike." 
 
 Then there was a pause ; the old man moved 
 slowly away, and Simon gazed on vacancy, as 
 he pronounced several times the syllable, hate! 
 hate! hate! 
 
 How long the reverie would have lasted I 
 know not, but a sweet, fair, cherub-like child, 
 thrust its curled head out of the adjoining win- 
 dow and said, " Father, I have got another 
 verse, ' Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
 you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for 
 them which despitefully use you.' " 
 
 Simon arose, shook his limbs, and said, " Now 
 I know the tempter ! It is the demon MISAN- 
 THROPY. Begone !" 
 
 Again I looked, and Simon had aroused him- 
 self, and was looking towards the garden walk, 
 where a tall female form in mourning weeds was 
 approaching with grave and languid pace. She 
 stood over the poor plumber, who shrank from 
 her fascination, for there was an unearthly influ- 
 ence issuing from her leaden countenance, and 
 he seemed benumbed by an indescribable night- 
 mare. She drew from under the folds of her 
 mantle a phial of some black mixture, which she 
 held to his nostrils. His face immediately as- 
 sumed a hue like her own : it was the visage of
 
 58 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 hopeless grief. She said in his ear with a se- 
 pulchral tone : " All is lost ! all is lost ! Think 
 of your wife in a poor-house your dear babes 
 in beggary yourself in a prison. All is 
 lost !" 
 
 Then there was a pause, during which Simon 
 seemed bowing towards the earth, his face buried 
 in his hands. The phantom's eye lightened with 
 a flash of diabolical joy, as she slipped into his 
 hands a glittering dagger. 
 
 At this instant the window opened, and the 
 same lovely child, with infantile joy, cried out, 
 " Father, listen to another pretty verse : ' Take, 
 therefore, no thought for the morrow ; for the 
 morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. 
 Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' " 
 
 Simon wiped the cold moisture from his 
 brow, and feebly smiled ; the phantom vanished, 
 and he waved his hand, saying, " Begone, 
 DESPAIR!" 
 
 I then saw in my dream that the clouds cleared 
 away, and the moon shone pleasantly over all the 
 neighbouring gardens. Simon arose, saying, as 
 he took a turn in the little green alley, " Surely 
 I must have been asleep I will walk in among 
 the flowers, and then I shall not be haunted by 
 these doleful thoughts. He soon found every 
 thing take a more cheerful hue ; and just as he
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FOUR TEMPTATIONS. 59 
 
 began to recover from his gloom, he thought he 
 heard the footsteps of some one entering the back 
 gate of the garden. He moved in that direction, 
 and met a gentleman in black, with a gold-headed 
 cane, gold spectacles, and gold chain a fair- 
 spoken, bright-eyed man, whom he thought he 
 had seen at one of the banks. Simon was in 
 error, for he had never seen him before. 
 
 " Mr. Stark ?" said the stranger. 
 
 " That is my name." 
 
 " I was passing, and was pleased with the 
 smell of your stock-gilley flowers thought I 
 would look in." 
 
 ** You are welcome, sir," said Simon, a little 
 surprised. 
 
 " And since I am here," said the gentleman, 
 " I should like to hear a word or two about the 
 state of money-matters, as I am rather a stranger 
 in your place." 
 
 Simon gave him the information sought, in- 
 voluntarily mingling some accounts of his own 
 trouble. The stranger listened eagerly ; his eye 
 gleaming with benevolent interest, while he 
 jingled eagles and dollars in his pockets. Then 
 wiping his glasses with a white handkerchief, 
 and settling his stock, he smiled knowingly, and 
 said:
 
 60 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 " Stark, I am glad I came in. I am some 
 years your elder have been abroad know the 
 world long in the East India service three 
 years cashier of a bank some acquaintance with 
 finance. Stark, you are a happy man. 'Tis an 
 ill wind that blows nobody good. Let us go into 
 your house, while I untie these papers, and I'll 
 put you in the way of making your fortune in 
 two weeks. I know your look you are too 
 keen a one to fail of being a rich man, for the 
 sake of any old primer proverbs. Live and let 
 live ; that's my motto." 
 
 They went in. He opened piles of papers, 
 some of which resembled uncut sheets of bank 
 notes. I could not hear the particulars, but Si- 
 mon's face glowed at beholding a purse of gold 
 which was thrown carelessly on the table. But 
 while the gentleman was mending a pen for Si- 
 mon to write something, a door opened the dear 
 little girl entered with an open book, and asked 
 her father to hear her read the following passage, 
 viz : Proverbs, chapter first, verses 10 19. Upon 
 which the strange gentleman looked for his hat, 
 and vainly tried to pick up the card, on which he 
 had given his address ; he departed with a sul- 
 phurous smell, and Simon read on the card the 
 name of Mr. FRAUD.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FOUR TEMPTATIONS. 61 
 
 Simon looked as if he rejoiced at a great 
 escape, while at the same time he was alarmed 
 at being surrounded by such bad company. He 
 therefore opened his closet, and took a draught 
 of ale, and then went to the door to see who had 
 knocked. It was a beautiful woman, and Simon 
 was about to call his wife, but the visiter said, 
 with a voluptuous smile, 
 
 " No, do not call her ; my visit is to you. 
 Several of your friends have heard of your 
 straits, and have discovered what it is that you 
 want. Could you relieve me from this faintness 
 which has come over me by a glass of wine ?" 
 
 Simon of course took a glass himself. The 
 lady looked lovelier than ever her cheeks 
 were roses ; her hand was velvet ; her breath 
 was the perfume of the vine. She enchanted 
 poor Simon with a voice of music, and over 
 another glass of wine, into which she sprinkled 
 certain atoms, he began to feel as rich as Astor, 
 as happy as a child. 
 
 " Why, why," said she, " have you al- 
 lowed yourself to sink in despondency. Live 
 while you live ! A short life and a merry one !" 
 
 And Simon, with a cracked voice, began to 
 carol, Begone, dull care: when a little sweet 
 voice cried through the key-hole, " Wine is a 
 6
 
 62 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 mocker." The lady departed, and Simon dashed 
 the decanter to the floor, exclaiming, Begone, 
 INTEMPERANCE ! 
 And I awoke from my dream.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S VACATION. 63 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S VACATION. 
 
 IT is supposed that American mechanics work 
 more days in the week than any free men on 
 earth, as it is certain that they effect more in a 
 given time than any slaves. For even where 
 there is no Sunday, working men have many 
 festivals, holidays, and fasts, which give the pre- 
 text for relaxation. In great manufacturing estab- 
 lishments these habits of persevering labour are 
 sometimes impaired by the practice of assigning 
 weekly tasks to the younger workmen ; but in 
 rural districts the cheerful hum of honest toil is 
 heard from Monday morning until Saturday night. 
 We are a busy people, and must ever be so, 
 while high prizes are held out to all alike, and 
 while no caste excludes the labourer from attain- 
 ing respectability as well as affluence. Whether 
 this persistency in hard work has a good moral 
 tendency, is a grave inquiry which I shall leave 
 to more profound heads. As matters stand, the 
 generality of the productive classes have no volun- 
 tary vacations. The lawyer relaxes between his
 
 64 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 lerms; the doctor between his cases, and in 
 healthy seasons. The sallow nervous clergyman 
 flies to Saratoga or Rockaway; the merchant 
 leaves town for the dog-days ; but my neighbour 
 the saddler seems to me to have been at his brisk 
 employment late and early these ten years. Thus 
 it is with multitudes of our mechanics. 
 
 These are thoughts which have often occurred 
 to me when passing through the towns and villages 
 of Pennsylvania and New Jersey ; and I have 
 mused and calculated how much money these busy 
 bees must have laid up against the season of ice 
 and tempest. Yet I am not sure that I should have 
 alighted on so happy a title as that which graces 
 this paper, if it had not been for the following 
 incident. On a prime day of this leafy month of 
 June, I was passing along that beautiful road 
 which leads up the right bank of the winding 
 Raritan, in a northwesterly direction from New 
 Brunswick. There are few more desirable drives 
 in Jersey. The hills, divested of forest, but clad 
 in herbage, stand high enough to invite the free 
 access of every breeze ; in this resembling the 
 downs of England. It is what Old Burton would 
 call " a cotswold country, as being most commo- 
 dious for hawking, hunting, wood, water, and all 
 manner of pleasures :" and the gentle river sleeps 
 along under the green bank with a quietude which
 
 THE MECHANIC'S VACATION. 65 
 
 the early Dutch settlers of Somerset must have 
 regarded as paradisiacal. It was the season of 
 clover, and to say that, is to say enough to any 
 man who lacks not the two great senses for vege- 
 table enjoyment. In the corner of a rank field, 
 besprinkled with a million of fragrant flowering 
 heads, and under the shade of a cherry tree, on 
 which the earliest blush of the fruit was visible 
 among the dark green, there sat, or rather re- 
 clined, two travellers. Their light packs lay by 
 their side, and their hats were flung over upon the 
 greensward. One was a man about sixty, the 
 other a mere youth. It does me good, now and 
 then, amidst our business stiffness, to snatcn a 
 scene like this, which half realizes some of the 
 pastoral pictures of my boyish reading. There 
 they lay, as careless as though Adam had never 
 done a day's work, as unaffectedly rural as any 
 vagabond in Gil Bias, or any shepherd in a land- 
 scape of Poussin or Claude. 
 
 I mean no disparagement to a respectable and 
 indispensable craft, (and ancient withal, for I have 
 before me good authority for declaring that the 
 44 merchant tailors were completely incorporated in 
 the year 1501, by Henry VII., their arms being 
 argent a tent, three robes gules, on a chief azure, 
 a lion passant regardant, or with this motto, con- 
 cordia parvae res crescunt,") but I at once per- 
 6
 
 66 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ceived them to be tailors ; by what free masonry 
 I shall not define. I made free to tie my horse 
 and join company, and before ten minutes had 
 elapsed, I had become well acquainted with their 
 views of that commercial pressure, of which no 
 two men have precisely the same understanding. 
 After having fully learned how well they had 
 thriven, how many dollars they had earned each 
 week, how handsomely they had lived, and how 
 all their hopes had been dashed by the loss of 
 employment, I adjusted my hat, wiped my spec- 
 tacles, and after a few grimaces, such as all lec- 
 turers deem suitable to an exordium, I proceeded 
 to administer a little admonition. 
 
 I perceive, my good friends, said I, that tinies 
 have begun to pinch you. 
 
 " Not at all," interrupted the elder, " we are 
 only enjoying the Tailor's Vacation" 
 
 Bravo ! cried I, forgetting in an instant my pre- 
 vious train of condolence, there is a new idea, 
 which is always worth a day's work to any man. 
 
 " Not so new, either, with Roger," said the 
 youth, " for he has said the same thing at every 
 green resting-place since we left Somerville." 
 
 " But good," replied Roger, " whether newer 
 old. I am no Ben Franklin, and never expect to 
 invent any thing to catch lightning, or to be in 
 Congress ; but, for all that, I do sometimes moral-
 
 67 
 
 ize a bit, and I see that every thing goes down 
 better with us under a good name. Pressure is 
 well enough, to be sure, aa I can testify when the 
 last dollar is about to be pressed out of me ; but 
 Vacation is capital. It tickles one's fancy with 
 the notion of choice. ' Nothing on compulsion' 
 is my motto. I have often thought that if I were 
 a slave, I should put a good face on it, and strut 
 among my tobacco-hills with a show of good- 
 will." 
 
 So you keep up your cheer, said I, even in the 
 worst weather ? 
 
 " Why not ? I am learning a good lesson. 
 Fifteen years have I worked without losing a 
 month by sickness, or a day by dissipation. I 
 have seen others resting, but I have scarcely ever 
 rested. The repose which they got by driblets 
 I am getting by wholesale. I am learning that I 
 have worked too much, saved too little, and made 
 no provision for winter days. It would be a bad 
 state of things in which men could feel sure of 
 being above reverses. The pressure impresses 
 me with a sense of the instability of things. Then 
 it tries my resolution. He who wants content 
 can't find an easy chair. Better days will come,' 
 as my good old mother in the old-country used 
 to say ; I have had sunshine, and perhaps I need 
 the shade. There is a saying of somebody, ' I
 
 68 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 myself had been happy, if I had been unfortunate 
 in time.' It is time enough for Frank here, but 
 he grumbles more than I do ; let him lay up 
 wisdom for the next storm." 
 
 Sir, said I, it was my purpose to advise you, 
 but I had rather listen. 
 
 Roger blushed and smiled.. 
 
 " It is a way I have got," said he, " by talk- 
 ing among my juniors. Being a bachelor, I live 
 among boys, and perhaps I discourse too much ; 
 but I am resolved to turn the best side of my coat 
 outside. And if I live through this pinch, rely 
 upon it I will be more wary. True, it is becom- 
 ing a bad business, and before two days more I 
 shall be like the tailors of Twickenham, who 
 worked for nothing and found thread. But I am 
 learning. Experience keeps a dear school, but 
 fools will learn in no other. I can dig or plough ; 
 nothing is plentier than land, and my weak chest 
 needs the balm of the country. It is worth some- 
 thing to lie among this clover ; and when I marry 
 I shall have more adventures to tell than if I had 
 grown double over the press-board." 
 
 After further discourse, I left the cheerful tailor 
 enjoying his vacation.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 69 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 
 
 LET a group of children be gathered at a school 
 or play-ground, and whether they be rich or poor, 
 gentle or simple, they will coalesce so as to real- 
 ize the most complete levelling theory. If this 
 is true of the very poor, how much more appa- 
 rent is it, when the comparison takes in the off- 
 spring of the well-doing mechanic. Children, 
 take them one with another, are beautiful crea- 
 tures at least in America, nay all the world over. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds has observed that children, 
 until mistaught, always throw their limbs into 
 graceful attitudes. I trouble myself very little, 
 when I meet a rosy, ingenuous, clean, and happy 
 child, with the inquiry, whether it be aristocratic 
 or plebeian in its origin. John Randolph, of 
 Roanoke, was often in the habit of alluding to 
 certain families, as having no ancestral portraits. 
 Now I question whether the great orator would 
 not have given Bushy Forest, or even Roanoke, 
 for a pair of boys. It is better to have fruit on 
 the limbs, than ever so many dead roots under
 
 70 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ground. A cluster of merry, healthy boys and 
 girls, is better than a family crest, or old plate, or 
 faded pictures, or a genealogical tree, or the 
 pitiful pride of penniless grandeur. These olive 
 branches around one's table afford good presump- 
 tion of a certain degree of health and virtue ; and 
 are just what the effete patricians of lordly Britain 
 often sigh for in vain. Every now and then 
 some great family goes out, like a dying lamp, 
 with an impotent conclusion. Blessed are those 
 poor men who are rich in children such as I 
 mean ! 
 
 I plead guilty to the charge of living at the 
 corner of a very narrow alley with a somewhat 
 ignoble name. My window looks upon this 
 humble avenue, which is properly a cul-de-sac. 
 A.t a certain hour of every day it is filled with 
 boys and girls ; for at the further end of it there 
 is a " madam's school." My writing is ever and 
 anon interrupted by the joyous laugh or the 
 scream of ecstasy from these romping creatures : 
 I seldom fail to look out, and am generally as 
 long nibbing my pen at the window, as they 
 are in making their irregular procession through 
 the lane. True, they have pulled a board off my 
 garden fence, and foraged most naughtily among 
 my gooseberries ; but what of that? I have many 
 a time paid a heavier tax for a less pretty sight.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 71 
 
 They are happy : and so am I, while I look at 
 them. 
 
 Surely nothing can be more graceful or attract- 
 ive than the fawn-like girl, not yet in her teens, 
 not yet practising any factitious steps, and not 
 yet seduced into the bold coquetry and flirting 
 display of the " young miss." Whose children 
 are these? The children of mechanics; almost 
 without exception. Call it not pride in the 
 anxious mother, that she decks these little ones 
 in the cleanliest, fairest product of her needle, and 
 shows off with innocent complacency the chubby 
 face or the slender ankle ; call it not pride, but 
 love. The mechanic's wife has a heart; and 
 over the cradle, which she keeps in motion while 
 she plies her task, she sometimes wanders in 
 musing which needs the aid of poesy to represent 
 it. She feels that she is an American mother ; 
 she knows her boy not only may but must have 
 opportunities of advancement far superior to those 
 of his parents. She blushes in forethought to 
 imagine him illiterate and unpolished when he 
 shall have come to wealth : and therefore she de- 
 nies herself that she may send him to school. 
 
 What a security Providence has given us for 
 the next race of men, in the gushing fulness of 
 that perpetual spring a mother's heart ! 1 said
 
 72 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 I was proud of our American wives : I am ready 
 to kneel in tears of thankfulness for our American 
 mothers. 
 
 But let me get back from the mothers to the 
 children. Our future electors and jurymen, and 
 legislators, and judges, and magistrates, are the 
 urchins who are now shouting and leaping around 
 a thousand shops and school-houses. Shall their 
 parents live in disregard of the duty they owe 
 these budding minds ? I am half disposed to 
 undertake a sort of lectureship, from house to 
 house, in order to persuade these fathers and 
 mothers that, with all their affection, they are not 
 sufficiently in earnest in making the most of their 
 children. I would talk somehow in this way. 
 " My good sir, or madam, how old is that boy ? 
 Very well ; he is well grown for his age, and I 
 hope you are keeping in mind that he will live in a 
 different world from that in which you and I live. 
 Bring him up accordingly. Lay upon him very 
 early the gentle yoke of discipline. Guard him 
 from evil companions. Save him from idleness, 
 which is the muck-heap in which every rank, 
 noisome weed of vice grows up. Put work into 
 his hands, and make it his pleasure. Make him 
 love home ; and by all means encourage him to 
 love his parents better than all other human beings
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 73 
 
 Allow me to beg that you will not fall into the 
 absurd cant which some people, parrot-like, catch 
 and echo, against book learning. Determine that 
 this fellow shall know more than ever you have 
 known ; then he wilt be an honour to your de- 
 clining years. Keep him at a good school ; re- 
 ward him with good books ; and he will one day 
 bless you for it. I know men in our legislature, 
 who were brought up to hard work, and are now 
 very rich ; but they cannot utter a single sentence 
 without disgracing themselves by some vulgar 
 expression or some blunder in grammar. They 
 know this, but have found it out too late. They 
 feel that their influence is only half what it might 
 have been, if their parents had only taken pains 
 to have them well taught. Now look ahead, and 
 give your child that sort of fortune which no re- 
 verse in trade can take away." 
 
 It is a great and prevalent error, that children 
 may be left to run wild in every sort of street- 
 temptation for several years, and that it will 
 then be time enough to break them in. This 
 horrid mistake makes half our spendthrifts, gam- 
 blers, thieves, and drunkards. No man would 
 deal so with his garden or lot ; no man would 
 raise a colt or a puppy on such a principle. 
 Take notice, parents, unless you till the new 
 7
 
 74 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 soil, and throw in good seed, the devil will have 
 a crop of poison-weeds before you know what is 
 taking place. Look at your dear child, and 
 think whether you will leave his safety or ruin 
 at hazard.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 75 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 
 
 WHAT ! more about the children ? Yes ; for 
 they are to be the men of the coming age ; and he 
 has looked but drowsily at the signs of the times. 
 who has not discerned that these little ones are to 
 act in a world very different from our own. The 
 question is, shall we prepare them for it? 
 
 These pauses in business, these cloudy days 
 of distress, are given us for some end ; perhaps 
 as intervals of consideration. Let us then con- 
 sider the ways and means of making something out 
 of these beloved representatives of our very selves. 
 Let us build something of the spars that float from 
 our wreck ; this will be our best speculation. 
 
 " Let us know, 
 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do fail ; and that should teach us 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will."* 
 
 Sit down among your little children, and let me 
 say a word to you about family-government. We 
 * Hamlet.
 
 76 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 good people of America, in our race for self- 
 government, are in danger of not governing our- 
 selves. Our lads grow up insubordinate finding 
 out to our and their cost, that " it is a free coun- 
 try." An English traveller could find no boys in 
 the United States ; all being either children or men. 
 The evil is undeniably on the increase. Parents 
 are abandoning the reins ; and when once this 
 shall have become universal, all sorts of govern- 
 ment but despotism will be impracticable. 
 
 Take that froward child in hand at once, or you 
 will soon have to be his suppliant rather than his 
 guide. The old way was perhaps too rugged, 
 where every thing was accomplished by mere dint 
 of authority ; but the new way is as bad on the 
 other side : no man is reduced to the necessity of 
 choosing an extreme. 
 
 We often visit houses where the parents seem 
 to be mere advisory attendants, with a painful 
 sinecure. Let such hear the words of a wise 
 Congressman of New Jersey, and a signer of the 
 Declaration: "There is not a more disgusting sight 
 than the impotent rage of a parent who has no 
 authority. Among the lower ranks of people, who 
 are under no restraints from decency, you may 
 sometimes see a father or mother running out into 
 the street after a child who has fled from them, 
 with looks of fury and words of execration ; and
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 77 
 
 they are often stupid enough to imagine that neigh- 
 bours or passengers will approve them m their 
 conduct, though in fact it fills every beholder with 
 horror." I am afraid none of us need go many 
 rods from home to witness the like. What is 
 commonly administered as reproof is often worse 
 than nothing. Scolding rebukes are like scalding 
 potions they injure the patient. And angry 
 chastisement is little better than oil on the fire. 
 Not long since, I was passing by the railroad 
 from Newark to New York. The train of cars 
 pursued its furious way immediately by the door 
 of a low " shanty," from which a small child 
 innocently issued, and crossed the track before us 
 just in time to escape being crushed by the loco- 
 motive. We all looked out with shuddering, 
 when lo ! the sturdy mother, more full of anger 
 than alarm, strode forth, and seizing the poor in- 
 fant, which had strayed only in consequence of 
 her own negligence, gave it a summary and violent 
 correction in the old-fashioned, inverse method 
 Inference : parents often deserve the strokes they 
 give. 
 
 Implicit obedience and that without question, 
 expostulation, or delay is the keystone of the 
 family arch. This is perfectly consistent with 
 the utmost affection, and should be enforced from 
 the beginning, and absolutely. The philosopher 
 7*
 
 78 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 whom I cited above says of parental authority : 
 ' I would have it early that it may be absolute, 
 and absolute that it may not be severe. It holds 
 universally in families and schools, and even the 
 greater bodies of men, the army and navy, that 
 those who keep the strictest discipline give the 
 fewest strokes." Some parents seem to imagine 
 that their failures in this kind arise from the want 
 of a certain mysterious knack, of which they con- 
 ceive themselves to be destitute. There is such 
 a knack ; but it is as much within reach as the 
 knack of driving a horse and chaise, or handling 
 a knife and fork, and will never be got by yawn- 
 ing over it. 
 
 Not only love your children, but show that you 
 love them ; not by merely fondling and kissing 
 them, but by being always open to their ap- 
 proaches. Here is a man who drives his child- 
 ren out of his shop, because they pester him ; 
 here is another who *s always too busy to give 
 them a good word. Now I would gladly learn 
 of these penny-wise and pound-foolish fathers, 
 what work they expect erer to turn out, which 
 shall equal in importance the children who are 
 now taking their mould for life. Hapless is that 
 child which is forced to seek for companions 
 more accessible and winning than its father or its 
 mother.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHILDREN. 79 
 
 You may observe that when a working man 
 spends his leisure hours abroad, it is at the ex- 
 pense of his family. While he is at the club or 
 the tavern, his boy or girl is seeking out-of-door 
 connexions. The great school of juvenile vice 
 is the STREET. Here the urchin, while he 
 " knuckles down at taw," learns the vulgar oath, 
 or the putrid obscenity. For one lesson at the 
 fireside, he has a dozen in the kennel. Here are 
 scattered the seeds of falsehood, gambling, theft 
 and violence. I pray you, as you love your own 
 flesh and blood, make your children cling to the 
 hearth-stone. Love home yourself; sink your 
 roots deeply among your domestic treasures ; set 
 an example in this as in all things, which your 
 offspring may follow. The garden- plant seems 
 to have accomplished its great work, and is con- 
 tent to wither, when it has matured the fruit <bt 
 the next race : learn a lesson from the plant.
 
 80 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XV. 
 
 E MECHANIC IMPROVED BY LITERATURE. 
 
 * * * " Strongest minds 
 Are often those of whom the noisy world 
 Hears least ; else surely this man had not left 
 His graces unrevealed and unproclaimed. 
 But, as the mind was filled with inward light, 
 So not without distinction had he lived, 
 Beloved and honoured far as he was known. 
 And something that may serve to set in view 
 The feeling pleasures of his loneliness, 
 His observations, and the thoughts his mind 
 Had dealt with I will here record." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 IN the belief that the common mind in every 
 age is best reached by parables, I have sometimes 
 indulged in a little fiction ; always, however, 
 using the invention only as the embroidered veil 
 of truth ; and drawing up the curtain in time for 
 the serious performance. But this license has 
 made it necessary that in what I am about to re- 
 late I should declare every jot and tittle of the 
 story to be absolute fact, to the best of my know- 
 ledge and recollection. Having kept no memo- 
 -anda, I may be in error as to a date, or the exact
 
 IMPROVED BY LITERATURE. 81 
 
 succession of events, but the statements may be 
 relied on as in every main point true. 
 
 It is now more than twenty-three years since 
 I became acquainted with a coach-painter in a 
 village of New Jersey. At that time he occu- 
 pied a very small shop adjacent to a larger build- 
 ing which was used by the coach-maker. Even 
 in early youth I was led to observe something in 
 the manner and countenance of this man, indica- 
 tive of superior reflection. I shall conceal his 
 name under that of AUGUST, which will point 
 him out to many who knew him. As I advanced 
 in life, I gained access to his painting-room and 
 his dwelling ; and as he was particularly kind to 
 young persons, I passed in his company some of 
 the pleasantest hours which it is my fortune to 
 remember. August was then in the prime of 
 life, and his character and habits were fully un- 
 folded. In looking back upon the acquaintances 
 of many years, I can declare with sincerity, that 
 I have never known a more accomplished man. 
 In his trade he was exemplary and approved. 
 His taste led him to make excursions beyond the 
 sphere of his daily work ; and I call to mind a 
 number of portraits and fancy-pieces which orna- 
 mented his own house and the apartments of his 
 friends. I am not prepared to say, however, that 
 he was eminent as an artist But there were va-
 
 82 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 rious other walks of life in which he was a mas 
 ter. He was fond of reading to a degree which 
 wholly interfered with the care of his business 
 and his health. Indeed, he was a devourer of 
 books. Attached to his easel one was sure to 
 find an open volume ; and sometimes he caused 
 a favourite boy to read aloud while he was grind- 
 ing his colours. I well remember that, on a cer- 
 tain day when he had to walk five miles to do a 
 piece of work, he travelled the whole distance 
 book in hand ; it was a quarto volume of Hob- 
 house's Travels. 
 
 There was nothing in the whole circle of Eng- 
 lish literature, so far as it is traversed by most 
 professed scholars, with which August was not 
 familiar. He had made himself master of the 
 French language, spoke it with some facility, and 
 *iad perused its chief treasures. Among other 
 jvidences of his application, he put into my 
 hands a laborious translation from the French, of 
 a work by Latude, detailing the events of his 
 long and cruel imprisonment; a narrative not 
 unlike that of Baron Trenck. In my youth I 
 read this with avidity ; and some years later, on 
 the death of August, I endeavoured to obtain the 
 manuscript from his widow, with a view to its 
 publication for her benefit. We were, however, 
 so raw in the matter of book-making, as to con-
 
 IMPROVED BY LITERATURE. 83 
 
 elude that the public taste would not warrant the 
 adventure. Many years since, an English trans- 
 t lation of the same memoirs has been published 
 in Great Britain. I have vividly before my mind 
 the scene, when August was busy with his pa- 
 lette, in a rude loft, and a little boy seated on a 
 work-bench was pouring into his delighted ear 
 the early fictions of the author of Waverley. Sir 
 Walter himself would have been repaid by the 
 spectacle. 
 
 Such tastes and habits gave a richness to his 
 mind, and a refinement to his manners. August 
 was fully suited to mingle with any group of sci- 
 entific or literary men. His love of talk was 
 unbounded, and his hilarity most genial. I re- 
 member no acquaintance whose discourse was 
 more stimulating or instructive. Many an hour 
 of summer days I whiled away in his shop, list- 
 ening to the sentiment, humour, and wit, which 
 would have graced any company I ever met. All 
 this was without a trace of self-conceit or arro- 
 gance. His conversation was the easy overflow- 
 ing of a full mind. It was always animated, and 
 always arch : there was a twinkle of unutterable 
 mirth in his expressive eye, which won regard 
 and awakened expectation. 
 
 August was a musician. This delightful art 
 had been his solace from childhood. He played
 
 84 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 on several instruments, but the clarionet was that 
 of which he had the greatest mastery. Often 
 have I heard its clear melodious tones for suc- 
 cessive hours on a summer evening. He seemed 
 to use it as the outlet for those musings which 
 found no vent among his ordinary associations ; 
 for most of his performances were voluntaries 
 and fitful capriccios. Yet he was a sight-singer, 
 and read even intricate music with ease. It was 
 one of his whims to have a number of flageolets, 
 lessening by degrees until the smallest was a 
 mere bird-pipe, with the ventages almost too 
 near together for adult fingers. Such is the 
 power of association, that to this very day I 
 sometimes amuse myself with that feeblest of all 
 instruments, a French flageolet, in affectionate re- 
 collection of poor August. 
 
 I have heard that he sometimes wrote verses, 
 but have never been so fortunate as to alight on 
 any specimen. August was a man of poetic 
 tendencies, living habitually above the defiling in- 
 fluences of a sordid world, and seeking his plea- 
 sures in a region beyond the visible horizon of 
 daily scenes. In this connexion, I ought with 
 great seriousness to mention, that during all the 
 years of my acquaintance with him, he wa an 
 open professor of Christian faith, which he ex- 
 emplified by a life of purity, patience, and benevo-
 
 IMPROVED BY LITERATURE. 35 
 
 lence. His family was a religious household. 
 When he came to enter the valley of poignant 
 trial with which his life terminated, he is said to 
 have evinced great joyfulness of confidence in 
 the propitiation and grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 These scattered memorials of a friend of my 
 youth are grateful to my feelings in the delivery, 
 but are given with the higher intention of inciting 
 young mechanics to seek the same cultivation of 
 mind. What was there in the case of August 
 which should deter any young man of ordinary 
 parts from attempting to gain the same eminence ? 
 He was a man of the people ; he was under the 
 necessity of daily labour for his support ; yet he 
 made himself respected by the most accomplished 
 scholars around him, as a man of mental culture. 
 There was no magic in this. Do as he did, and 
 you will have the same respectability, the same 
 pleasures, and, perhaps, the same knowledge. 
 Seek your pleasures in mental pursuits ; disci- 
 pline your intellect ; READ READ READ and 
 you will find yourself soon in a new world. 
 
 8
 
 80 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 >!M-, ,.f. ...,,,.,. ,, .,. ,,,. ./} ;;^'f- 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S DOG AND GUN. 
 
 NOTHING can be more natural, than that a man 
 of sedentary and confined pursuits should feel a 
 strong attraction to sports of the field. It has 
 been so in all countries and in every age. The 
 freedom of traversing the open country, in fine 
 weather, with a sense of leisure, and the buoyant 
 excitement of expected trophies, has something 
 which enchants a mind at ease. And it cannot 
 be denied, that when taken in moderation, the 
 amusement and exercise of the sportsman are 
 highly productive of vigorous health. The Amer- 
 ican, restrained by no game-laws, and enjoying 
 a state of social confidence, which in most cases 
 prevents any vindictive action in cases of tres- 
 pass, is led to exercise his prerogative ; hence 
 many addict themselves to this recreation, who 
 have no great taste for its labours. 
 
 There is something independent and athletic in 
 the pursuit of game, and this is particularly en- 
 chanting to those who are most of their time con- 
 demned to employments within doors, which
 
 THE MECHANIC'S DOG AND GUN. 87 
 
 afford little active exercise to the limbs. It is the 
 same principle which fills our volunteer companies 
 with working men ; the great majority, and the 
 most zealous members, are commonly from trades 
 which are the least manly. When a boy has a 
 fowlingpiece on his shoulder, and a trusty dog 
 gamboling before him, he feels exalted into man- 
 hood ; and we are all children of a larger growth. 
 After all, these field-sports are not to my mind. 
 I am not prepared to denounce them as cruel and 
 iniquitous, or to debar the young mechanic from 
 all indulgence in them ; but they are seductive 
 pleasures, and in our region bring in their train 
 some very undesirable consequences. If a man 
 is an indifferent marksman, it is a poor business, 
 producing little fruit, and much weariness and 
 chagrin ; and many days must be expended be- 
 fore great dexterity can be attained. If, on the 
 other hand, one is what Miss Sinclair calls " a 
 horse-and-dog man," he becomes engrossed in 
 the pursuit, and neglects his business. To say 
 truth, I cannot now call to mind any mechanic 
 remarkable as a good shot, or very successful in 
 bagging game, who was not at the same time dis- 
 tinguished for indolence in his proper calling, or 
 for some frivolity of manner, or looseness of 
 habits. Every fair day yields a temptation to 
 forsake the shop for the field. The enthusiasm
 
 88 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 of the chase must be high to ensure success : and 
 when high it scarcely admits of sudden checks. 
 One day of capital sport is no more satisfactory 
 than one glass of exhilarating liquor ; it incites to 
 another experiment ; and thus I have known days 
 and weeks squandered by men whose business 
 was languishing at home. 
 
 The dog and gun introduce the young man to 
 strange companions ; and the more, as his skill 
 makes progress. In evefy town or village, there 
 are found a number of prime fellows, who have 
 learned all the capabilities of the Joe Manton 
 and percussion cap, and are very Nimrods in the 
 field. Such persons naturally become the patrons 
 and oracles of the inchoate sportsman. Such a 
 worthy I have known for many years, and his 
 influence has been only evil upon two or three 
 generations of amateur fowlers. 
 
 NED NicHOLWas a watchmaker in some ancient 
 day ; for he is now on the wrong side of sixty. 
 His ruinous house has a wing which is never 
 opened to the street; the closed windows used to 
 show an array of watches and silver spoons, but 
 he seldom enters it except to deposit his accou- 
 trements, or to file and tinker at the lock of his 
 gun. Around his door one seldom fails to see 
 three or four setters or pointers, duly trained, and 
 for laziness fit emblems of their master. All
 
 THE MECHANIC'S DOG AND GUN. 89 
 
 other faculties in Ned's nature seem to have been 
 absorbed by the faculty of following game. He 
 has ceased to pique himself on his ability ; it has 
 become an instinct. No doubt he could load and 
 fire in his sleep ; as indeed I knew him on one 
 occasion to bring down a woodcock while he 
 was falling over a broken fence. 
 
 Ned is sometimes descried in the dun of the 
 morning sauntering forth in a shooting-jacket of 
 many colours. His appointments, like the Indian's, 
 are for use, not show. His game-bag is capacious, 
 and as he despises the coxcombry of patent flasks 
 and chargers, he has slung around him a gigantic 
 horn, which he has decorated in a whimsical 
 manner. Two or three dogs are playing in 
 circles before him, and evince far more life than 
 their leader. Ned's impulse is pure love of sport 
 and of the fields. The wilderness of swamps and 
 glens has been his Paradise. What he bags is 
 never talked about or offered in the market. He 
 is of course a venerable character in the eyes of 
 all young fowlers. As a dog-trainer he is un- 
 rivalled, and this secures him the attendance of a 
 group of gaping loungers, who consign to him the 
 education of their puppies. When-a crazy fire- 
 lock labours under some almost immedicable dis- 
 ease, it is carried to Ned ; and hence, on a 
 summer's noon, when he sits under his great 
 8*
 
 90 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 shady willow washing his gun or worming his 
 dogs, he is sure to be encircled by inquirers. 
 The shadow of this tree is his dispensary. 
 
 Strange to say, though everybody recognises 
 Ned Nichol as a good-for-nothing knave, it is the 
 ambition of a score of would-be sportsmen to 
 imitate and accompany him. The young me- 
 chanics who follow him at humble distance, need 
 only raise their eyes to His tatters and his tangled 
 locks, to behold what they will become, if their 
 idle aspirations prove successful. 
 
 The wise mechanic will scorn to be a poor 
 shot and dread to be a good one. The passion 
 for this sport becomes a mania, and ruins multi- 
 tudes. It does not admit of partial devotion ; it 
 cannot be indulged for mere hours, but for whole 
 days, and for day after day. Then how paltry a 
 sight is it to see a full-grown man coming home 
 weary at night, with a few poor robins, a half- 
 grown squirrel, and a solitary snipe slain on the 
 ground ! It is a far different thing in a wild, hunt- 
 ing country, where there is abundance of deer and 
 wild turkeys. Here the use of the rifle becomes 
 a necessary means of livelihood, and the pack of 
 hounds is an indispensable part of one's stock. 
 Not for a moment would I throw into the same 
 class the fowler of our Atlantic towns and the 
 frank hunter of the West. There is something
 
 THE MECHANIC'S DOG AND GUN. 91 
 
 at once picturesque and sublime in the fortunes 
 of these frontier men ; and their sports are lordly. 
 But there is something inglorious in the grave 
 pursuit of tomtits. 
 
 Shooting-matches, where a number of harmless 
 pigeons are let out to be scared to death by the 
 competing heroes, in some green meadow, with 
 liquors and refreshments spread under the trees, 
 are scenes of rude clamour, and usually end in 
 drunken brawls. I scarcely know why, but it is 
 an unquestionable fact, that great attachment to 
 the dog and gun is usually coupled with other 
 loose pursuits. The famous sportsman is some- 
 times a black-leg, and often a tippler. Other 
 flasks than those for powder are wont to sticK 
 out of the shooter's pocket. To be brief and 
 candid if you desire the reputation of a thriving 
 artisan, avoid that of a capital shot.
 
 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S MORNINGS. 
 
 " Falsely luxurious, will not man arise 
 And, leaping from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent morn, 
 To meditation due and sacred song." 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 IT was Franklin, if I mistake not, who uttered 
 the adage, " If a man lie in bed late, he may trot 
 after his business all day, and never overtake it." 
 There is no class of men concerning whom this 
 is more true than mechanics. Indeed, it is so 
 generally received as a maxim, that any working 
 man's character for thrift is gone if he is not an 
 early riser. In regard to mere enjoyment, it is 
 something to add an hour or two of conscious 
 existence to every day of life. It matters not 
 whether we make our days longer, our years 
 longer, or the sum total of days and years longer: 
 in each case life is by so much prolonged. By 
 making this addition at the better end of every day, 
 we gain much in the quality of what is redeemed. 
 An hour before breakfast is commonly worth two
 
 THE MECHANIC S MORNINGS. 93 
 
 afterwards. The whole day is apt to take the 
 colour of the morning. There are certain things 
 which, if not done early in the morning, are likely 
 to be left undone altogether. Late risers are 
 usually indolent. " Love not sleep, lest thou 
 come to poverty." Late rising is also conjoined 
 with slovenliness in every kind of performance. 
 The luxury of early rising is a mystery to the 
 uninitiated. People of quality deny themselves 
 the very choicest portion of a summer day. 
 
 " Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 
 With charm of earliest birds." 
 
 What can be lovelier than the aspect of nature 
 at sunrise, during the season of flowers ? No 
 man knows any thing about the music of birds 
 who has not heard their performances between 
 dawn and sunrise. No man appreciates the un- 
 bought odours of the vegetable world, who has 
 not quaffed them at this hour. Let any one who 
 has been so unfortunate as to keep his bed at this 
 enchanting season of the day, henceforth amend 
 his habits. He will find himself in a new world. 
 The current of his thoughts will flow more 
 healthfully and purely. After rising early, I have 
 often thought that I was in a better humour with 
 myself and others all the succeeding day. This 
 is the suitable time for planning out the day's
 
 94 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 work. No thriving man can live without method 
 and foresight ; and these are but names, where 
 indolence robs us of the day's prime. Every 
 man of business knows how idle it is for a master 
 to indulge in sleep in the expectation that his 
 subordinates will at the same time be diligently 
 employed. 
 
 The duty of making the most of every day 
 should be inculcated on children. Let the habit 
 be well fixed, and it will never leave them. 
 Whatever may be the change in their circum- 
 stances, and however they may affect more deli- 
 cate fashions, they will never be able to forget 
 the elasticity and fragrance of their boyish morn- 
 ings : nor ever prefer the sickly damps of a hot 
 bed to the refreshing breezes of dawn. 
 
 Under another head I will give an instance or 
 two of surprising attainments in learning, made in 
 early hours redeemed from sleep, by labouring 
 men. In every thing that concerns the mind, 
 the morning is invaluable. After the repose and 
 corroboration of sleep, the spirits are new-made, 
 and the faculties act with twofold alacrity. 
 Hence the ancient proverb, Aurora is a friend 
 to the Muses. On this account, I would venture 
 to commend to mechanics the practice of getting 
 all their pecuniary accounts into proper order be- 
 fore breakfast. It is well known that many in-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S MORNINGS. 95 
 
 dustrious and sober men get behindhand in their 
 affairs, simply because their books become de- 
 ranged. This derangement frequently arises 
 from the great hurry of business during the day, 
 which prevents a leisurely settlement. Where a 
 man is not much versed in arithmetic and book- 
 keeping, these settlements are somewhat serious 
 affairs, and cannot be duly performed at a counter 
 among customers, or in the hum of a busy shop. 
 Let the master-mechanic rise an hour earlier than 
 is usual, for this very purpose. He will then 
 have unbroken time for his accounts ; and will 
 be able, with great satisfaction, to enter on the 
 day's work, with the feeling that his papers and 
 books are in a good state. A little of this every 
 morning will soon make itself felt ; constant 
 dropping wears away the rock. This practice is 
 immensely better than that of leaving this ugly 
 job until night, when there is an urgent tempta- 
 tion to neglect it altogether. I need not say that 
 the practice of posting one's books on Sunday 
 is at once profane and injurious. 
 
 Let me quote Milton ; for it is a part of my 
 creed, that the great masterpieces of human 
 genius are a part of the working man's inherit- 
 ance. Some one had spoken of the poet's morn- 
 ing haunts: he replies with just indignation: 
 " These morning haunts are where they should
 
 96 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 be, at home ; not sleeping, or concocting the sur- 
 feits of an irregular feast, but up and stirring, in 
 winter often ere the sound of any bell to awaken 
 men to labour or to devotion ; in summer as oft 
 with the bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, 
 to read good authors, or cause them to be read, 
 till the attention be weary, or memory have its 
 full fraught." For the same, or other purposes, 
 such as our business may render important, let 
 us shake off slumber, and enjoy the happiest 
 hours of the twenty -four. 
 
 The influence of early rising upon health may 
 have been overrated by zealots, yet none can 
 deny the great salubrity of the practice. Too 
 much sleep is relaxing to the animal fibre, and 
 instead of rendering one less drowsy through the 
 day, is often observed to induce a lethargic state 
 of mind and body. Early rising presupposes 
 good hours at night ; and these afford a good se- 
 curity to health as well as morals. It is too often 
 the case, that young mechanics, after a day of 
 hard work, give themselves the license of passing 
 many hours of the night in street-walking, ca- 
 rousing, or tavern-haunting. 
 
 There is one class of duties still to be men- 
 tioned, which demands the proper use of the 
 morning hours ; I mean the exercises of devo- 
 tion. The cry echoes every morning from the
 
 THE MECHANIC'S MORNINGS. 97 
 
 turrets of Mohammedan mosques, Prayer is bet- 
 ter than sleep ! Prayer is better than sleep ' 
 The man, whether rich or poor, who never com 
 munes with God and with his own heart, lives 
 like a brute. Natural religion may suffice to 
 teach us that our first thoughts are due to God. 
 In this connexion, one cannot but be reminded 
 of the brilliant passage of the Shakspeare of 
 preachers : " When the sun approaches to- 
 wards the gates of the morning, he first opens a 
 little eye of heaven, and sends away the spirits 
 of darkness, and gives light to a cock, and calls 
 up the lark to matins, and by-and-by gilds the 
 fringes of a cloud, and peeps over the eastern hills, 
 thrusting out his golden horns, like those which 
 decked the brow of Moses, when he was forced 
 to wear a veil, because he himself had seen the 
 face of God ; and still, while a man tells the 
 story, the sun gets higher and higher, till he 
 shows a fair face and a full light, and then he 
 shines one whole day."* 
 
 Amidst the fragrance and sabbath quiet of 
 morning, all nature allures us to serious and 
 thankful consideration. When the beautiful face 
 of the world, refreshed by the moisture and the 
 coolness of night, bursts once more upon our 
 view, it is a dictate of every good feeling within 
 
 * Jeremy Taylor. 
 9
 
 98 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 us, to elevate our hearts to our Creator and Re- 
 deemer. The devout and rational soul will say : 
 
 " Witness if I be silent, morn or even, 
 To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, 
 Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 
 Hail ! universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
 To give us only good ; and if the night 
 Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 
 Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark."
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FRIENDS. 99 
 
 ' .) j \>t 
 
 ' " '. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FRIENDS. 
 
 IT is a wise direction of a certain philosopher, 
 that every man, as he advances in life, should 
 contract new friendships among men younger 
 than himself. The reason is obvious. Every 
 year lessens the circle of our youthful coevals, 
 and the old man often finds himself going down 
 the hill of life absolutely bereft of every friend of 
 his boyhood. We must therefore do what we 
 can to repair these wastes, and indemnify our- 
 selves for those heavy losses. 
 
 A celebrated poet has given us a memorable 
 verse on this subject : Poor is the friendless 
 master of a world! But this is only the voice 
 of all history, philosophy, and song, as well as 
 of the proverbs of all ages and nations. One of 
 the loveliest productions of the most eloquent of 
 Romans is on the subject of Friendship ; and 
 when we moralize, we are all apt to harp on the 
 same string. 
 
 The mechanic needs, no less than other men, 
 the solace and profit of friendly connexions ; and
 
 100 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 yet I fear the value of this treasure is sometimes 
 overlooked in our hurry to gain wealth. The love 
 of money being a root of all evil, produces a great 
 harm in this very direction. It is a selfish pas- 
 sion ; and all selfish passions narrow and sear the 
 heart. Therefore it is, that we look more readily 
 for warm friendships in the simple scenes of 
 rural and pastoral society. 
 
 Let me indulge my humour by recording 
 sketches of two very dissimilar characters. There 
 Avas a thriving silversmith in our village in years 
 gone by. He was a moral and industrious man, 
 and a clever workman ; so that he rapidly gather- 
 ed a little property, sufficient to make him com- 
 fortable for life. HARPER, for so I shall call him, 
 was a bachelor, and had no kinsfolk in our neigh- 
 bourhood but a mother and two sisters, with 
 whom he resided. He was regular in his engage- 
 ments, and punctual in every part of business. 
 You were sure to meet him at a certain hour at 
 market and at church. But it was observed that 
 he never appeared in company. His walks were 
 always solitary. He visited nobody ; and nobody 
 visited him. So it continued to be, year after 
 year, until he became a grey-headed man. Yet 
 he was said, by those who sometimes called on 
 his family, to be pleasant enough in his own 
 house. I never heard a whisper of any unkind-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FRIENDS. 101 
 
 ness between him and his mother or sisters. Still 
 he was a friendless man. Without being posi- 
 tively surly, he was selfish. He had his pleasures 
 and his pains all to himself. True, he hurt no 
 one ; but he helped no one. As well might he 
 have lived on Crusoe's island, for any contribu- 
 tion that he made to the stock of social enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 Harper was not a misanthrope ; yet he had no 
 tenderness for his fellow men. He confided no- 
 thing to them, and he sought not their confidence. 
 The next-door neighbour might be sick in bed, 
 but Harper visited him not. He seemed to in- 
 dulge a proud independence, and to seek nothing 
 so much as to be let alone. This will not do in 
 such a world as ours. The trait is unamiable, 
 and, I doubt not, usually meets with a retribution 
 in Providence. As Harper grew older, his habits 
 became more rigid. He had enjoyed the kind 
 offices of his female relations so long, that he had 
 forgotten that they were not immortal. His aged 
 mother died. This gave him a severe shock, but 
 did not alter his habits ; he only clung more 
 closely to the survivors. After a few years, the 
 younger of his sisters married and removed to the 
 West. The brother and remaining sister were 
 now inseparable ; but at length this sister fell into 
 a decline, and finally died. Poor Harper had 
 9*
 
 102 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 made no provision for such a state of things. He 
 had become rich, but his wealth could not brighten 
 his long melancholy evenings. He was friend- 
 less ; even if he had been willing to seek new 
 alliances, he had outlived the ductile period when 
 friendship takes its mould. His latter days were 
 cheerless ; he sank in hopeless melancholy ; and 
 when he died, I presume there was no human 
 creature who felt the loss, even for a moment. 
 
 I gladly change the subject, foi the sake of in- 
 troducing another mechanic, JOSEPH RITSON. 
 Joseph is still living, and with as much enjoy- 
 ment of life as any man I have ever known. He 
 also is industrious and successful, but after another 
 sort. His maxim has been that of Solomon : 
 "He that is a friend must show himself friend- 
 ly." Joseph is one whom you would sooner 
 love than revere. He has marked faults, but they 
 are on the side of frankness and generosity. If 
 any inhabitant of our village should be asked, 
 "What man of your acquaintance has most 
 friends ?" I doubt not the unhesitating reply 
 would be, " Joseph Ritson." 
 
 Several sets of apprentices have issued from 
 his shop, to all of whom he stands almost in the 
 relation of a father. He has made it his business 
 to seek out promising young lads, and help them 
 on in the world. In every one of these lie will
 
 THE MECHANIC'S FRIENDS. 103 
 
 find a fast friend. No day passes in which he 
 may not be seen going with a hearty, open coun- 
 tenance into the houses of the neighbours ; and 
 his face always carries a sort of sunshine with it. 
 His own house is the abode of hospitality. In- 
 deed he has harboured more travellers, and lodged 
 more strangers, than any man I ever knew. 
 There is not a poor family in our neighbourhood 
 who is not acquainted with him. When any one 
 is sick, Joseph is sure to find it out, and to be 
 on the spot before the minister, and often before 
 the doctor. Whenever a man falls into trouble, 
 he resorts, by a kind of instinct, to Joseph 
 Ritson. In consequence of this temper, he is, I 
 confess, often imposed upon ; but what then ? he 
 has vastly more enjoyment than if he never made 
 a mistake. Business crowds upon him rather too 
 fast, for he is executor to half a dozen estates, and 
 is really overladen with other people's affairs. 
 But then he has his reward. Man is made for 
 affectionate intercourse. Joseph is always en- 
 joying the genial flow of kindly emotions. Every 
 day he feels the warm grasp from hands of those 
 whom he has befriended. As he advances in life, 
 he will find himself surrounded by those who love 
 him, and who will be the friends of his children 
 after him. Besides this, he possesses the un-
 
 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 speakable satisfaction which arises from the exer- 
 cise of true benevolence. 
 
 I trust these lines will not be altogether lost 
 upon young mechanics. They should early learn 
 the value of real friendship ; not that which is 
 cemented by association in vice, and always ruin- 
 ous ; nor that which springs from indiscriminate 
 and jovial intercourse ; but such as is the fruit of 
 wise selection, founded on cordial esteem. 1 
 would say to the young man fail not to have a 
 small circle of true friends. Choose your own 
 companions, and do not allow yourself to be the 
 intimate of every one who may choose you. Be- 
 ware of immoral comrades. The man who is not 
 true to his own conscience, will never be true to 
 you. Shun the man who has even once been 
 guilty of falsehood. Cultivate no friendship over 
 strong drink. " Make no friendship with an 
 angry man, and with a furious man thou shalt 
 not go ; lest thou learn his ways, and get a snare 
 to thy soul." Be slow in choosing a friend, but 
 once chosen do not forsake him for slight faults. 
 One friend of your boyhood is worth a dozen of 
 later growth. And make it your purpose to stand 
 by a friend to the very last drop of your blood.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHANGE OP TRADE. 105 
 
 i 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHANGE OP TRADE. 
 
 THERE is something in the homespun philo- 
 sophy of UNCLE BENJAMIN which always secures 
 my attention. Rude as it is, it has that strength 
 which is often wanting in schools and books. 
 Uncle Benjamin has never read Lord Chester- 
 field, and, therefore, has not learned how exceed- 
 ingly vulgar it is to use a common proverb ; in- 
 deed, these concentrated morsels of wisdom, 
 handed down from father to son, form a consi- 
 derable portion of his discourse. Poor Richard 
 is his favourite author, and if his son Sammy has 
 not become a ripe proverbialist, it is his own 
 fault. 
 
 I regret to say that Sammy is sadly destitute 
 of thrift. Being disappointed in the trade to 
 which he was brought up, he has been thinking 
 of a change to some other business. But no 
 sooner did the old man hear of this freak, than 
 he hobbled over to his son's as fast as his legs 
 and staff would carry him, and without ceremony 
 opened the business thus :
 
 106 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 " Ah, Sammy, so you are going to break 
 ground in a new place, and begin life over 
 again !" 
 
 " Why, yes, father : I make out so poorly at 
 my trade, and the times are so hard." 
 
 " Let the times alone, Sammy. They will be 
 as bad, I dare say, for your new trade. The 
 fault is not in the horse but the rider: not in 
 the trade but the tradesman. You will run 
 through many callings before you outrun lazi- 
 ness. Look about you, and see if you can find 
 one man who has bettered himself by forsaking 
 his business. We have many such ; jacks-of-all- 
 trades and masters of none. You know the old 
 saw, ' the rolling stone gathers no moss.' My 
 advice to you is, to go forward in the road you 
 are in : it is waste of life to open a new road 
 and take a fresh start every few years." 
 
 " But, father," said Sammy, " the times are 
 altered, and there are new chances for rising in 
 the world. A great many of my acquaintances 
 are growing tired of being little country-mecha- 
 nics. I am not alone in my notions." 
 
 " Perhaps not, Sammy. If all fools wore 
 white caps, we should look like a flock of geese : 
 most of our working men seem bitten by the 
 gadfly of change. But they may turn and turn, 
 and gain nothing until they change their habits.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHANGE OF TRADE. 107 
 
 With a good trade, good health, good habits, and 
 a good wife, any man may grow wealthy. But 
 pray what is to become of a man's seven years' 
 apprenticeship, when he goes into a new busi- 
 ness ? Would you throw this into the sea ?" 
 
 " O, no, father ! That would be all loss, if I 
 were going to slave it again at the anvil ; but I 
 mean only to superintend the work of others." 
 
 " That indeed !" cried the old man. " I begin 
 to see your drift. You are going to leave a trade 
 to which you were bred, for one of which you 
 know little or nothing. You are going from an 
 old business, in which you have to work with 
 your own hands, to a new one in which you ex- 
 pect to play master. And are you so green, 
 Sammy, as to think it requires no skill to oversee 
 the work of others ? Look at our gentlemen- 
 farmers, when they come out of the cities, and 
 see in what style they superintend the work. 
 No, no ! take an old man's word for it, unless 
 yon stick to your last, you may expect to go 
 barefoot. One may decant liquor from vessel to 
 vessel till there be nothing left. Let well enough 
 alone. You have every tiling but perseverance ; 
 now have that. Remember the epitaph, I was 
 well took physic and here I am.' I have 
 often heard it said, that three removes are as 
 bad as a fire : it is as true of trades as of tene-
 
 108 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ments. Remove an old tree and it will wither to 
 death. To make such a change is at best but 
 bartering certainty for hope. Your bright pros- 
 pects may turn out like those of the country- 
 mouse: you remember the fable." 
 
 The conversation of the old man put me on a 
 recollection of the cases which have occurred in 
 our own neighbourhood, and I believe uncle 
 Benjamin is in the right. I have seen the rise 
 and progress of some hundreds of working men. 
 Where they have stuck to their business, observ- 
 ing economy, and adding little to little, they have 
 in almost every case arrived at comfortable sub- 
 stance. On the other hand, where they have 
 been restless and versatile, even though these 
 changes seemed to be for the better, they have, 
 usually, lost all, and died beggars. In this free 
 country, mechanics are not bound down by legal 
 restrictions to the trade which they have learned, 
 but may exchange one line of business for an- 
 other, at their pleasure : and there are many 
 temptations to do so, particularly when the times 
 are unfavourable. It is the more necessary, there- 
 fore, to inculcate the principle that, as a general 
 rule, perseverance ensures success, and change 
 brings disaster. Men of lively genius often grow 
 weary of the dull routine of business, and are 
 tempted to forsake the beaten track upon new ad-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHANGE OF TRADE. 109 
 
 ventures; while your dull plodding fellows are 
 laying a foundation for lasting wealth and useful- 
 ness. Hence the erroneous adage, that fortune fa- 
 vours fools. Sparkling qualities and elastic enter- 
 prise are not always coupled with practical wis- 
 dom. 
 
 Let me give the name of RUPERT to a man 
 whom I formerly knew. His case is that of 
 hundreds. He was indented to a harness-maker, 
 with whom he served his time without any re- 
 markable occurrence. He was considered very 
 clever in his trade, and lived with his first em- 
 ployer about a year as a journeyman. At the 
 end of this time, he thought fit to leave his former 
 calling, in order to open a shop for the sale of 
 glazed leather caps and similar articles. Having 
 little capital and less perseverance, he had not 
 been more than a twelvemonth in this occupation, 
 before papers were seen in the windows, purport- 
 ing that the stock was selling off, &c., and shortly 
 thereafter the house was closed. For several 
 weeks Rupert walked the streets, in the manner 
 usual with those who do nothing because they 
 cannot pay their creditors. When I next ob- 
 served him, he was again labouring as a journey- 
 man, but this did not last long, as he soon ap 
 peared among us as the agent of a line of stage- 
 coaches. After acting his part for a few months 
 10
 
 110 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 in this vocation, he was enabled by one or two 
 of his friends to set up a shop for ready-made 
 clothing ; and we really thought he was about to 
 manage prosperously. But his unstable temper 
 again betrayed him. Just about this juncture, 
 certain new resources were developed in the 
 water-power of our creek, and several mills and 
 manufactories were enterprised. Rupert became 
 a partner in a paper-making establishment ; was 
 once more embarrassed ; sunk in the stream ; and 
 after a suitable time, arose upon the surface 
 in the new character of a lottery-agent. This 
 gambling employment finally mined him. It 
 brought him into acquaintance with idlers, sports- 
 men, and black-legs. He became well known 
 upon the turf. His whole appearance and dress 
 were changed, for it may be observed that sport- 
 ing cnaracters strangely choose to be conspicuous. 
 When I saw him last, he was on his way to Long 
 Island races. He wore a white hat, plush 
 vest, green broad-tailed, single-breasted coat, with 
 fancy outtons, coloured stock ; and had a whale- 
 bone wand in his hand, a paltry large ring on his 
 finger, and a would-be cameo, as large as a half- 
 dollar, on the soiled bosom of his striped shirt. 
 Every feature and every motion indicated uneasi- 
 ness and drink. 
 
 How was this catastrophe to have been avoided ?
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CHANGE OF TRADE. Ill 
 
 The answer is simple : by sticking to the shop. 
 Keep your shop and your shop will keep you. 
 The patriarch Jacob gives his eldest son a very 
 had name : " Unstable as water, thou shalt not 
 excel."* It is the character and the lot of many 
 a young mechanic. There are some employ- 
 ments which seem to lie open as snug harbours 
 for those who have failed of all other ports. 
 They are occupations which are supposed, 
 whether truly or falsely, to need no foregoing 
 apprenticeship. In country villages, it is too 
 common to imagine that any man is fit to be an 
 apothecary, though our very life may depend on 
 a druggist's knowledge of pharmacy, and though 
 more than one has sold arsenic for magnesia. 
 Most men have talents sufficient for vending con- 
 fectionary or old clothes. Tavern-keepers are 
 seldom such as have been bred to the craft; 
 though our best hosts are certainly those who 
 bave grown up in the bar. The same may be 
 said of bar-keepers, booking-clerks, and travelling 
 agents. The hawkers, and other travellers who 
 go about so importunately with subscription-pa- 
 pers, pictures, German- silver spoons, or cheap 
 books, wrapped up in greasy pocket handker- 
 chiefs, have all seen other days, and would even 
 now do better, if they would return to their proper 
 
 * Gen. x lix. 1.
 
 112 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 calling. The worst of it is, this is the last thing 
 they ever think of doing. Who was ever known 
 to re-marry a divorced wife ? The only safety is 
 in dogged perseverance. Industry and time will 
 wear away all the little disquietudes which prompt 
 to change.
 
 THE MECHANIC IN CELIBACY. 113 
 
 Of*' t'Mf "i.'l ,* ttii -i--' w'-'n.rv i ; . . *..;,){;, 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC IN CELIBACY. 
 
 WITHOUT going to the extreme of him who 
 compared an old bachelor to the odd half of a pair 
 of snuffers, I have always looked upon this 
 specimen of human nature as something out of the 
 way, and pitiable. To the honour of mechanics, 
 be it said, that they are more rarely in celibacy 
 than men of other callings. He who works hard 
 for his living finds abundant evidence that it is 
 not good for man to be alone. Nevertheless, we 
 now and then fall in with a veteran bachelor even 
 among this class. As I am persuaded that truth 
 is more attractive than fiction, all the world over, 
 I will gratify my fondness for portrait by giving 
 a half-length of my old acquaintance LUKE PEAR- 
 MAIN. 
 
 Luke for I love to be particular is a last- 
 maker, and learned his trade in a shop in Tooley 
 street, within stone's throw of the old London 
 bridge ; now, alas ! no more. He has room enough 
 for a single man, for besides a front-shop, back- 
 room, kitchen, and shed, he has two good 
 10*
 
 114 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 chambers and a garret. Moreover, he owns the 
 house, and about an acre of land appurtenant to 
 it. The reader has observed the tendency in all 
 Benedicts towards punctuality, nay punctilio. 
 They get a set, and crystallize in a rigid form. 
 Luke is the most regular of men. Long since he 
 has ceased to feel the need of severe labour, so 
 that it is only by fits and starts that he works in 
 his shop ; indeed he has few calls, and the 
 windows are half the time closed. He is by no 
 means an extreme case, and I select him as a fair 
 average specimen. 
 
 On Sundays he is one of the earliest at church, 
 whither he repairs exactly once a day, and de- 
 posits in the proper receptacle exactly one cent. 
 No eloquence ever thawed him into an enlarge, 
 ment of his charity. He is six feet high, erect, 
 and spare in figure, with a rough, healthy ruddi- 
 ness on his cheeks ; and as he has that sandy hair 
 which wears best with time, he shows not a gray 
 lock, though he must be above sixty. In his 
 apparel he is scrupulously clean, and his coarse 
 shoes are well polished ; but the cut of his gar- 
 ments is antique. His carefulness and ease of 
 motion are such that dress lasts with him a long 
 time. His brown surtout with metal buttons has 
 appeared every Sunday for ten years. A tailor 
 not long since pointed out to me a summer coat
 
 THE MECHANIC IN CELIBACY. 115 
 
 upon Luke's back, as an article which he had 
 himself made twenty years ago. 
 
 This honest man is* not at all morose or snap- 
 pish in his salutations or discourse ; he is only 
 particular. Yet living by one's self engenders 
 selfishness, and a man must have a warm heart, 
 if it is not congealed by forty years of bachelor- 
 hood. Luke buys little, and gives nothing, 
 though he sometimes has money to lend. He 
 has few visiters, and makes no calls, except at a 
 few shops. He has a housekeeper, with whom 
 he sometimes takes a formal drive, on a fair after- 
 noon, in a gig which looks as if he might have 
 made it himself, drawn by a bony horse, whose 
 age nobody knows. But he is evidently very shy 
 of the woman, and never manifests any recog- 
 nition of the existence of children, unless they 
 make undue noise about his door. His sitting- 
 room is decorated with an old map of London, 
 and a print of Westminster Abbey ; and I have 
 seen him reading Tristram Shandy with his 
 spectacles on. 
 
 If any grave person now inquire what the 
 moral of all this may be, I reply, it is not a fable 
 but a true description. Yet it has its moral, and 
 this I shall humbly endeavour to unfold. I 
 scarcely ever meet Luke Pearmain without re-
 
 116 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 fleeting on the advantages of happy wedlock 
 His staid and precise demeanour cannot altogethei 
 mask a certain unsatisfied air which he always 
 carries with him. Luke is not happy. Natural 
 dispositions may be greatly stunted in their growth, 
 but cannot be altogether eradicated : and when the 
 social principles of our nature are suppressed, it 
 is at a great expense. The process is gradual, 
 and cannot be perceived in youth, but its effects 
 are very manifest in a course of years. No man 
 can go on through a long period, caring only for 
 himself, without having many of the generous 
 and nobler sensibilities of his nature deadened. 
 It is often thought that a bachelor escapes many 
 of the vexations of life. So he does ; but at the 
 same time he loses some of its most excellent 
 lessons. He has no sick wife, with whose re- 
 peated sorrows to condole ; but it were better for 
 him if he had. Tears of conjugal sympathy are 
 blessed in their softening effects on the heart. He 
 has no children to give him perpetual anxiety ; 
 but if he had, he would find his best affections 
 enlarged and clarified by flowing forth among 
 beloved objects. 
 
 An old man, without wife or children, is like 
 an old leafless trunk ; when he dies, his memorial 
 is gone forever ; he has none to bury him, or to
 
 THE MECHANIC IN CELIBACY. 117 
 
 represent him. Look at Luke Pearmain. His 
 long evenings are dreary, and he hastens to bed ; 
 thus constraining himself to rise before cock-crow. 
 What a different sight is witnessed next door. 
 There is old JOHN SCUDDER, quite as old a man, 
 and much feebler, as well as poorer ; but ten times 
 happier. He has had many a buffeting with hard 
 times, has lost one eye, and followed four chil- 
 dren to the grave ; but see him on a winter's 
 evening ! The very remembrance of the scene 
 does me good. There he sits in his stuffed arm- 
 chair, by the glowing grate ; his wife knitting by 
 his side ; his children around him at their books 
 or work ; his grandchildren climbing up his knees ; 
 or in the summer twilight, as he smokes his pipe 
 under the oak-tree before his door, and chats with 
 every old acquaintance. 
 
 Even beggars learn that they fare but ill at the 
 doors of bachelors. Domestic troubles teach us 
 to be compassionate. When a man so narrows 
 himself as to present scarcely any mark for the 
 shafts of adversity, he commonly lessens his be- 
 nevolence in the same proportion. Besides, who 
 can calculate the effect produced on the mind, 
 manners, and heart of any man, by the intercourse 
 of many years, with a gentle, loving, virtuous 
 woman ? In fine, there is no greater token of the
 
 118 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 prosperity of America, than the facts that all 
 things around us conspire to encourage early wed- 
 lock ; that among our yeomanry marriages are 
 seldom contracted for money ; and that we have 
 our choice among thousands of the loveliest and 
 purest women in the world.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S TABLE. 119 
 
 XXL 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S TABLE. 
 
 LET me say a word about the mechanic's meat 
 and drink. Here there are two extremes to be 
 avoided, namely those of too little and too much 
 And first of the first. It may seem strange that 
 any man should need to be cautioned against too 
 meager a diet ; yet such is really the case, in 
 consequence of the fanatical hoax of certain 
 grandame writers on Hygiene, and certain errant 
 preachers turned quacks. Every one who is ac- 
 quainted with the environs of London, has heard 
 of the " Horns of Highgate," which used to be 
 kept at each of the nineteen public houses of that 
 suburb. There, in ancient limes, the wayfaring 
 man used to be " sworn on the horns," that he 
 would not eat brown bread while he could get 
 white, unless he liked the brown best ; nor drink 
 small beer while he could get strong, unless he 
 liked the small the best. Among the " old ale 
 knights of England," there were none who could 
 not safely take this oath ; but we have changed 
 all this ; and the American doctrine, among a cer-
 
 120 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 tain class, is, that white bread is poison, and flesh 
 an abomination. Many a man, whose mouth 
 waters for a savoury chop or steak, is, by the 
 stress of humbug, kept upon a lenten regimen 
 for year after year, living on bran bread and 
 vegetables. 
 
 The mischief is greatest among those who 
 need the sustenance of generous viands work- 
 ing men, and often invalids, to whom, in this 
 land of plenty, a kind Providence has given an 
 abundant variety of flesh and fowl. Some good 
 people, having had their consciences schooled 
 awry, believe the slaughter of animals to be akin 
 to murder. They have, in their reading of Scrip- 
 ture, omitted the grant made to Noah: "Every 
 moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you ; 
 even as the green herb have I given you all 
 things." Gen. ix. 3. 
 
 The entrance of one of these modern Pytha- 
 gorean teachers, to the kitchen or table of a me- 
 chanic, produces the same effects as the wand of 
 a certain doctor in Sancho Panza's island. Among 
 pallid young ladies the system has great vogue ; 
 as also with dyspeptical matrons, and hypochon- 
 driacs of all classes. The converts profess to 
 return to natural food, and eschew all artificial 
 preparations. Swift must have had them in his 
 eye when he said of a former race of herb-eaters,
 
 THE MECHANIC'S TABLE. 121 
 
 " I am told many of them are now thinking of 
 turning their children into woods to graze with 
 the cattle, in hopes to raise a healthy and moral 
 race, refined from the corruptions of this luxu- 
 rious world." 
 
 In seriousness, let me dissuade every man who 
 values his health, from trying experiments on so 
 delicate a subject as the human constitution. The 
 experience of many centuries has sufficiently 
 evinced the fitness of a temperate animal diet to 
 preserve our powers in good order. Many gene- 
 rations of sound and stalwart meat-eaters have 
 lived to a good old age. The learned physi- 
 ologist, Dr. Pritchard, has shown by numerous 
 examples, that the nations which subsist wholly 
 on vegetable food, cannot compare in robust 
 health and muscular strength with the rest of 
 mankind ; and any one who has seen a tribe of 
 the South Western Indians, who live exclusively 
 on flesh, will find it hard to believe that it is a 
 deleterious article of food. I plead only for a 
 judicious mixture, and against the senseless 
 clamours of charlatan lecturers. 
 
 It merits the particular consideration of work- 
 ing men, that in the statistical reports rendered 
 to the Parliament of Great Britain from the manu- 
 facturing districts, the want of proper animal 
 food is mentioned as a chief source of infantile 
 11
 
 122 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 disease, scrofula, and premature decrepitude. N> 
 work on philosophy, as connected with diet, 
 has received a more deserved popularity than 
 Dr. Combe's treatise on " Digestion and Diete 
 tics." This able physician and sound philoso- 
 pher writes thus : "As a general rule, animal 
 food is more easily and speedily digested, and 
 contains a greater quantity of nutriment in a 
 given bulk, than either herbaceous or farinaceous 
 food." And again he says of vegetable sub- 
 stances: "to a person undergoing hard labour, 
 they afford inadequate support." He also main- 
 tains, with our countryman Dr. Beaumont, that 
 the reason of this is to be sought in the " adap- 
 tation of animal food to the properties of the 
 gastric juice provided by nature for its solution." 
 But I am beginning to talk too much like a 
 doctor. 
 
 The wise mechanic will be careful to provide 
 for his family and workmen a sufficiency of such 
 food as is in season, provided the experience of 
 the country declare it to be wholesome ; without 
 joining in a crusade against any accredited article 
 of diet. Providence has given to us, in great 
 profusion, both the fruits of the earth and the 
 beasts of the field ; let us make a temperate use 
 of these bounties. I would banish from the 
 table the intoxicating glass, but at the same time
 
 THE MECHANIC'S TABLE. 123 
 
 would welcome the rich variety of good things 
 which adorn our American market. 
 
 I am now ready to pass to the other extreme, 
 namely, that of too much. This, it will be 
 readily acknowledged, is by far the more com- 
 mon. As it regards animal food, there is surely 
 a golden mean between eating too much and eat- 
 ing none at all. There is no civilized nation 
 which devours more flesh than our own. While 
 the peasantry of Europe have meat on their ta- 
 bles, in some countries about once a month, in 
 others about once a week, the labourers of the 
 United States indulge in animal food every day, 
 and often at every meal. This is greatly over- 
 doing the matter ; and the stimulating effects of 
 such excess is witnessed in the inflammatory and 
 febrile disorders which prevail. Besides, it is 
 common for men who work hard to eat by far too 
 much of what is set before them. 
 
 " Intemperate eating," says Professor Cald- 
 well, " is perhaps the most universal fault we 
 commit. We are guilty of it, not occasionally, 
 but habitually, and almost uniformly, from the 
 cradle to the grave. For every reeling drunkard 
 that disgraces our country, it contains one hun- 
 dred gluttons persons, I mean, who eat to 
 excess, and suffer by the practice. Like the ox 
 in rich pasture-ground, or the swine at his swill-
 
 124 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 trough, men stow away their viands until they 
 have neither desire nor room for any more." 
 This gorging of the stomach probably slays as 
 many as strong drink. And this eating too much 
 arises, in great measure, from a practice which 
 is unfortunately a disgrace to our whole nation, I 
 mean eating too fast. This prevents necessary 
 mastication, and of course healthful digestion. It 
 carries the eater far beyond the point at which 
 the natural appetite cries, Enough. It renders 
 the cheerful meal a rapid and almost brutal feed- 
 ing. " Nowhere," says Dr. Combe, " does 
 man hurry off to business so immediately as in 
 the United States of America, and nowhere does 
 he bolt his food so much, as if running a race 
 against time. The consequence is, that nowhere 
 do intemperate eating and dyspepsia prevail to 
 the same enormous amount." Even the philo- 
 sophy of epicurism might teach us, that we alto- 
 gether miss the exquisite savour of morsels which 
 are swallowed in such inordinate haste. 
 
 When the mechanic comes in to his meals, he 
 should regard the hour as devoted, not merely to 
 being/erf, but to gentle repose after labour, social 
 relaxation, and deliberate intercourse with his 
 family. How different the scene, when a gang 
 of men and boys, at the sound of bell or horn, 
 rush into the eating-room ; seize upon the nearest
 
 THE MECHANIC'S TABLE. 125 
 
 dishes with ravenous violence ; hurry through 
 their intemperate repast with the silence and 
 ferocity of beasts ; while each, as soon as he has 
 stayed the rage of hunger, dashes out of the 
 apartment, unrefreshed and overloaded. 
 
 To the mechanic's wife belongs the task of 
 spreading the frugal meal in cleanliness and 
 order. Much of the comfort of home depends 
 on these minor arrangements ; nay much of the 
 husband's attachment to his own fireside has this 
 source. The white and well-laid cloth, the 
 bright knives and other implements, the scrupu- 
 lous neatness of every dish, and the delicate 
 grace of tidy arrangement, when coupled with 
 smiles and good humour, can give a charm even 
 to " a dinner of herbs." But as I look into the 
 dining-rooms of my neighbours, I sometimes see 
 another sight ; the table thrust against the wall ; 
 the cloth rent, and stained, and scanty, and ill- 
 spread ; the knives mottled with rust ; the dishes 
 huddled together; and all that is to be eaten 
 heaped up at one view. To the mechanic's wife, 
 I would say, " Pray you avoid it." 
 11*
 
 126 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S MUSICAL RECREATIONS. 
 
 IT can scarcely be denied that we are not a 
 musical nation. We have no popular ballads ; 
 and what we call our National air is a burlesque, 
 and always sung to ludicrous words. Listen to 
 the snatches of songs which resound in the streets, 
 and you will find them to be, in nine cases out of 
 ten, not traditional lays, rich in ancient associa- 
 tions, but fragments of the last play-house airs, 
 and for the most part senseless buffooneries, such 
 as " Billy Barlow," " Jim Crow," or " Settin' 
 on a Rail." 
 
 Yet I do not despair, having strong faith in the 
 possibility of reforming even National tastes. 
 There is a taste for music in our people ; and 
 here we have a foundation for our structure. In 
 half our shops there is some musical instrument; 
 and even though nothing but horrid discord is ex- 
 tracted from the ill-tuned fiddle or cracked flute, 
 the very attempt shows the existence of a natural 
 desire for the pleasures of melody. If our me-
 
 MUSICAL RECREATIONS. 127 
 
 chanics would only go about the work in the right 
 way, they might soon arrive at exquisite enjoy- 
 ment. Two errors are to be avoided ; first, the 
 supposition that music is a luxury beyond the 
 reach of busy men ; secondly, that proficiency 
 may be attained without any instruction. There 
 is so much musical capacity in our population, 
 that in every village there might be, within a 
 twelvemonth, a respectable band or orchestra. 
 Where the experiment has been tried, this has 
 been abundantly evinced. Several of the best 
 bands in our cities are at this very moment com- 
 posed of young working-men. But then let it be 
 carefully observed, that musical skill does not 
 come by inspiration. It is the fruit of labour, and 
 of labour directed by some competent instructer. 
 There lives very near to my abode a young 
 apprentice, who has for about a year been play- 
 ing, or rather working, on a violin. The youth 
 is clever enough to learn, and his instrument is 
 decent ; but I am persuaded that, in the way 
 which he now pursues, he may perform for ten 
 years without ever being able to execute a tune. 
 His instrument is never in tune, and as he system- 
 atically scrapes upon two discordant strings at the 
 same time, the constant effect is not unlike the 
 filing of a saw. He has begun at the wrong end ;
 
 128 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 for I am persuaded that in two weeks I could put 
 him in the way of becoming a very tolerable per- 
 former. In this, as in other things, some prelim- 
 inary instruction is necessary ; and in music, 
 more than in most pursuits, the first blow is half 
 the battle. If five or six young men would ap- 
 point an hour, bring their instruments, and for a 
 few months play together under an experienced 
 leader, they would be enabled to proceed even to 
 the intricacies of the art, and would secure to 
 tnemselves a satisfaction, of which they can now 
 scarcely form a conception. 
 
 In Germany, music is taught in the schools as 
 an indispensable part of common education. The 
 reading of musical notation is learned even in the 
 snow-covered huts of Iceland. In traversing the 
 continent of Europe, the traveller finds at most of 
 the hotels, bands of musicians from the neigh- 
 bourhood, who play while he is at his meals. 
 Every festival, whether national or religious, is 
 graced with music. Serenades, from the same 
 class of persons, are heard every night in the 
 streets. Music echoes from shops and boats and 
 harvest fields. Some of the best performances of 
 Mozart's difficult pieces are said to proceed from 
 the privates of Prussian regiments. It may be 
 stated, as a general fact, that every house in Ger-
 
 MUSICAL RECREATIONS. 129 
 
 many and Switzerland has some musical instru- 
 ment. In the vicinity of Geneva, a friend of the 
 people succeeded in exciting such a zeal for na- 
 tional music, that I have known two thousand 
 persons to be collected for the mere purpose of 
 practising patriotic songs. It is scarcely needful 
 to speak of Italy, or of the gondoliers of Venice. 
 The street-music of that country might compare 
 with our best performances here. Dr. Burney, 
 a fastidious judge, speaks of having heard master- 
 ly execution in the streets of Brescia, from a com- 
 pany of the inhabitants ; and he names the instru- 
 ments, which were two violins, a mandoline, a 
 French horn, a trumpet, and a violoncello. 
 
 I once stopped at a German settlement of no 
 great size, where I was invited to hear some music 
 at the house of a mechanic. Here a small com- 
 pany performed, vocally and instrumentally, al- 
 most the whole of Haydn's Creation. The 
 master of the house, a blacksmith, more than 
 sixty years old, took the first violin. His aged 
 wife, in spectacles, gave us a vocal part. The 
 eldest son, a joiner from a neighbouring village, 
 sat down at a Leipsick piano-forte, on which, 
 after having tuned it, he then executed with great 
 skill the whole accompaniment. Several young 
 men and women filled the remainder of the score.
 
 130 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 A boy, five years of age, was pointed out to me, 
 as beginning to play on the violin. Upon inquiry, 
 I found that there was not a house in the town 
 ' without a piano-forte, or some keyed instrument. 
 The recollection of this evening's entertainment 
 has often occurred to me as illustrating the happy 
 influence of music upon domestic life and social 
 habits. If you would have your young people to 
 love home, induce them to cultivate music. It 
 will beguile many a winter night, which might 
 otherwise be spent in far different and more ques- 
 tionable pursuits. 
 
 I would seriously recommend to such young 
 working-men as have any fondness for music, 
 to look a little into the state of this matter among 
 our more respectable German emigrants, or in the 
 Moravian settlements in Pennsylvania. That 
 which, among us, is a luxury imperfectly enjoyed 
 by the rich, is among them the free inheritance 
 of the yeomanry. There are few pleasures 
 cheaper, more innocent, or nearer home. The 
 best instrumental music in our great towns is pro- 
 duced by the aid of foreigners. I have scarcely 
 ever listened to more entrancing harmony than 
 that afforded, not long since, in our village, by a 
 gtrolling band of eight very common-looking 
 Germans. A few years ago a party of emigrants
 
 MUSICAL RECREATIONS. 131 
 
 encamped for the night upon an eminence aoout 
 half a mile from my residence. About dusk, we 
 were surprised by the most delightful sounds 
 wafted across the valley from these humble so- 
 journers. It appeared to be their evening hymn, 
 accompanied by horns. The effect was inde- 
 scribable. 
 
 The drift of all these remarks is to induce me- 
 chanics to cultivate music. I would, however, 
 go a step further, and say, that the subject is one 
 of so much importance in a national and moral 
 point of view, that public-spirited men should 
 attempt some concerted action for the encourage- 
 ment of latent genius among the people. In 
 Paris there was instituted, several years ago, a 
 company of instrumental performers, wholly from 
 men in mechanical employments, numbering 
 more than a thousand. When I last heard of 
 them, prizes were about to be distributed to the 
 greatest proficients. Without aiming at any 
 thing gigantic or chimerical, we may still do 
 something in furtherance of this object. For ex- 
 ample, in our own town and village, we may take 
 pains to gather the scattered talent already exist- 
 ing, thus forming an association of such as have 
 some measure of skill. These persons may be 
 placed under the direction of the most advanced
 
 132 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 musician among them, and may have stated meet- 
 ings for practice. I have seen wonders wrought 
 in this way. It is scarcely to be believed, before 
 trial, how rapid is the progress of a company, 
 as compared with that of a solitary player. And 
 there is so great a charm in orchestral music, 
 even though the performers do not exceed ten or 
 a dozen, that little more will ever be needed than 
 a beginning. Further, something may be done 
 to reduce the price of instruction in instrumental 
 music. So long as it comes to us with the tax 
 of a luxury, it cannot diffuse itself. This end 
 would soon be gained, if we should open the door 
 to some of our worthy German musicians. A 
 class of fifteen or twenty, at a low rate, might 
 support some honest foreigner who is now starv- 
 ing. But the greatest reform is needed in private 
 families. Parents and employers might accom- 
 plish the work, if they chose. But the truth is, 
 they set no proper value on music, either as a 
 pleasure, or a moral instrument. Their boy may 
 whistle, or sing, or drum, or twang the jew's-harp, 
 if he choose ; but it no more enters their heads 
 that music is a thing demanding any countenance 
 or supervision, than that they should regulate the 
 matter of hoop and ball. I am very sure that if 
 I could duly represent to the apprentice who
 
 MUSICAL RECREATIONS. 133 
 
 reads these lines, how much refined and con- 
 stantly increasing satisfaction he might derive, 
 without any expense, from the cultivation of this 
 art, he would not rest until he had advised with 
 a teacher, bought an instrument, and deliberately 
 entered his name as a musical scholar.
 
 134 TBE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CLTTBS. 
 
 IN a free country, the tendency to association 
 for mutual benefit is very strong. Hence the 
 great number of societies, clubs, unions, and 
 other fraternities, for intellectual improvement, 
 for political discussion, for defence, or for relief 
 in sickness. The fascination of such alliances is 
 so great, that young mechanics are often drawn 
 in, before they are aware, to connexions, mea- 
 sures, and expenses, at once unjustifiable and 
 ruinous. In times of pressure, ignorance is sure 
 to impute every calamity to the designs of malig- 
 nant persons sometimes the government, some- 
 times corporations, sometimes capitalists and em- 
 ployers. It is thus that the cholera, in various 
 unenlightened countries, has been ascribed to 
 the arts of enemies. Under embarrassments and 
 want, the sufferers cling together, and combine in 
 associations for mutual defence ; and in some 
 cases these combinations remain long after their 
 original work has been done. We have become
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CLUBS. 135 
 
 too familiar with " trades' unions" and " strikes" 
 to need any special explanations. These asso 
 ciations, in the long run, fail of their professed 
 aim ; partly by encouraging conviviality, and 
 withdrawing great numbers of men from regular 
 work ; partly from the fact, that employers, being 
 few in number, can act in better concert, and being 
 possessed of some capital, can stand out in resist- 
 ance longer than the other party. From a careful 
 observation of the way in which this thing works, 
 I am inclined to advise every young mechanic to 
 hold himself aloof from all entangling alliances 
 of the kind. 
 
 Not long since, I met with the wife of a me- 
 chanic whom I had formerly known. Observing, 
 her to be in great want and distress, I inquired 
 into the causes ; upon which she gave me, in 
 substance, the following history. 
 
 " My husband (John Glenn) worked in * * *", 
 at the hatting business, in the employ of a Mr. 
 Jones. He gave such satisfaction, that Jones put 
 him into a decent house which he owned, allow- 
 ing him a number of years to pay for it, and thus 
 securing the continuance of his services. This 
 suited both parties, and we were very happy in 
 our little dwelling, until the hard times came. At 
 this time we had more than half paid for the
 
 136 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 house, and had a nice garden with abundance of 
 fruit. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were very kind, and 
 I really felt as if we were fixed for life. John 
 seemed to get along comfortably enough, though 
 we certainly had to use great economy ; but at 
 length his acquaintances began to put other no- 
 tions into his head. They were determined to 
 have higher wages, and declared that John should 
 unite with them in their Union. He was as de- 
 sirous as any one for higher wages, but then he 
 had been well treated by his employer, and was 
 in his debt, and therefore felt that it was against 
 his real interest to join with them. He held out 
 a long time, and was one of nine or ten who con- 
 tinued at the manufactory after all the others had 
 struck for higher wages. But they ridiculed and 
 even persecuted him. There was scarcely any 
 shameful name which they did not call him. 
 They used to come in by dozens, and laugh at 
 him, saying that he was a coward, a sneak, and 
 a deserter, Mr. Jones's man Friday, and his 
 * last apprentice.' In fact, they goaded him so 
 much, that at last he threw up the game, and 
 united in their combination. I was always against 
 this ; but, in such matters, a woman's advice goes 
 for very little. Often, I assure you, I have shed 
 tears to see him parading through the streets with
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CLUBS. 137 
 
 their procession and flags, or paying money to 
 their union, when I knew that we had not a whole 
 loaf for our dear little children. And then he 
 used to come home at nights from their meetings, 
 not exactly drunk, but in a state of excitement 
 which was very new to him. 
 
 " Matters grew worse and worse, and we were 
 brought nearer to absolute beggary than I had 
 ever been in my life. After a while we began to 
 see that we had been too hasty in condemning 
 our employers ; for we observed that they were 
 as little able to help themselves as we had been 
 ourselves. Mr. Jones was obliged to shut up his 
 large factory ; and, as for us, we were on the 
 brink of starvation. Our hearts were too full 
 for much talk ; and we spent many a sad day 
 without saying a word to one another about our 
 affairs. At length John declared that this could 
 last no longer, but that he must look for work 
 somewhere else. We sold part of our little fur- 
 niture, and went to Philadelphia. Here we had 
 so little encouragement, and lived so poorly, that 
 one of our children died, and John was taken 
 down with a fever, which lasted nine weeks. 
 When he recovered, he told me that all hope of 
 getting a support in this part of the world was at 
 an end. He is now on his way to Cincinnati, to 
 12*
 
 138 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 seek employment, and I am returning with our 
 two remaining children to * * *, to see whether 
 I can keep them alive among our former friends 
 by taking in washing." 
 
 I am persuaded that this is the unvarnished 
 history of many a mechanic's family, during the 
 last year ; and, also, that in many cases the evil 
 has been greatly aggravated by rash connexion 
 with clubs and combinations. The temptation 
 to drink, to which this good woman alluded, is 
 very common in most of these associations. 
 When men without employment, and under 
 strong passion, meet together in large numbers, 
 they seldom fail to indulge in the use of liquor ; 
 and here it is that some lay the foundation of in- 
 temperate habits for life. Idleness, the parent of 
 all vice, is inseparable from such connexions ; 
 arid the whole system tends directly to produce 
 irregularity of life and sullen discontent. 
 
 There are clubs and societies of other kinds, 
 which might be mentioned as pertaining to the 
 life of mechanics. Debating societies are popular 
 in some parts of the country. They have a 
 cha/m for young men of active minds, because 
 they cultivate the social feelings, yield a sort of 
 intellectual pleasure, and give opportunity for 
 the excitements of public speaking. Such clubs
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CLUBS. 139 
 
 might be turned to good account; but in practice 
 they are often found to be deleterious. As they 
 frequently meet at taverns, the transition is too 
 easy from the debate to the bar. The subjects 
 discussed are apt to be those of party politics ; 
 and these are treated in most instances with 
 asperity and heat. The leading members of 
 these societies, not content with exercising the 
 rights of freemen, are prone to fall into the cur- 
 rent of factious turbulence, to the neglect of their 
 proper business. You will seldom find a noted 
 politician among working men who is not un- 
 thrifty in his trade. 
 
 It is pleasing to observe, however, that there 
 is still another description of club or society, of 
 which the influence is purely beneficial. I refer 
 to those associations which have for their object 
 the mental improvement of their members in 
 knowledge and morals. There are many such 
 connected with the town and village Lyceums of 
 our country. Where these are conducted in an 
 orderly way, and especially where they are con- 
 nected with lectures, experiments, libraries, and 
 reading-rooms, they cannot be too strongly re- 
 commended. It is to be wished that every 
 young mechanic should be a member of some 
 such institution. Their influence upon friendly
 
 140 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 feeling is very benign. They afford a delight- 
 ful recreation after the labour and tedium of 
 the day. They draw their members away from 
 the temptations of the tavern, the dance, and 
 the circus ; and they enrich the mind with the 
 best of all worldly wealth, true knowledge. Yet 
 even here I would be jealous of every thing 
 which encroaches on the sanctity of the domestic 
 circle, or breaks the flow of neighbourly fellow- 
 ship. These associations become evil so soon as 
 they keep any man perpetually away from his 
 wife and children, or preclude the kindly inter- 
 change of visits between friend and friend. On 
 this topic I must be allowed to repeat what I have 
 said elsewhere, that the tendency of the age is 
 adverse to the genial glow of old-fashioned social 
 intercourse. In former days, neighbours spent a 
 large part of their evenings in mingling with one 
 another, and these pleasant, homely visits, ce- 
 mented alliances which endured as long as life, 
 and friendships which descended from father to 
 son. There were lovely winter-evenings, " when 
 this auld cap was new." But now, the chief as- 
 semblages of our young men are in the club, the 
 bar-room, or the streets. If no other evil re- 
 sulted, the necessary consequence is, that during 
 all the time thus spent, they are debarred from
 
 THE MECHANIC'S CLUBS. 141 
 
 the humanizing influence of woman. I am ready 
 to maintain that a society without female com- 
 munion tends to barbarism. In a word, let us so 
 regulate our associations that they may not in- 
 vade the sacred intercourse of domestic and 
 social life.
 
 142 
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE MECHANIC ABOVE HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 " I HAVE often heard," said UNCLE BENJAMIN 
 " that puss in gloves catches no mice. And this 
 has been very much in my mind lately, when 1 
 have observed how great is the ambition of our 
 young sparks to be thought gentlemen." 
 
 " Surely, father," said Sammy, " you have no 
 objection to a man's dressing himself decently ?" 
 
 " Not at all, Sammy ; a man may be as decent, 
 tidy, and even elegant as you please ; but all in 
 its proper place. I often hear people asking why 
 Sunderland, which is one of our oldest villages, 
 thrives so little ; and I always answer, because 
 the master-workmen are never in their shirt- 
 sleeves. You may see them at their shop-doors 
 in Sunday trim before they have got their third 
 apprentice." 
 
 " Then, father, you would have a man always 
 in his apron." 
 
 " Not at all, Sammy, I say again. When I 
 was a lad, we made ourselves smart every even- 
 ing ; on Saturday nights we took a little foretaste
 
 THE MECHANIC ABOVE HIS BUSINESS. 143 
 
 of Sunday ; and when Sunday came, every man 
 was rigged out in his best; and a very pretty 
 sight it was, I assure ye, to see an old-time beau 
 his hair in powder, prettily clubbed plated stock- 
 buckle ditto for knees and shoes small-clothes 
 and white stockings and posy in the bosom. 
 
 " But then we earned it fairly by hard knocks. 
 In working-hours there was no play ; and no man 
 was ashamed of labour. But now-a-days there 
 .is a great rage for being over-genteel. I often 
 spy a rich waistcoat and gold chain under a 
 butcher's frock, and see young mechanics twid- 
 dling their ratans in the street, when they ought 
 to have their coats off." 
 
 " But you will allow that a man may do a good 
 stroke of work with a clean shirt and decent 
 vest ?" 
 
 " Very good ! perhaps he may in some sorts 
 of business. Let every man be as neat as his 
 work will allow ; but a collier will have a black 
 face, and he is a poor carpenter who makes no 
 chips. But I am thinking of more than mere 
 dress. Too many of our working-men are 
 ashamed of that which is their honour, namely, 
 their trade. When they appear in Broadway, 
 they wear gloves, and ape the coxcombs who 
 never do any thing." 
 
 " Father, father," said Sammy, " I am afraid
 
 144 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 vou would have mechanics reduced to an inferior 
 caste, who must never rise, but forever look up 
 to the richer folks as the lords of creation." 
 
 " There you mistake me greatly, Sammy. I 
 am an old mechanic. Many a long year have I 
 wrought at a laborious employment. I am for 
 giving every man a chance to rise. I honour an 
 industrious working-man. I think nothing more 
 honourable than honest labour ; and because I 
 think so, I don't like to see a man ashamed of it. 
 Let me tell you a story. 
 
 " About a year ago, I was returning in the 
 stagecoach from Philadelphia, where I had been 
 to see your uncle Isaac. Next to me sat a young 
 man, who did not recognise me, but whom I at 
 once knew to be a shoemaker in Second street. 
 He took his seat with an air, and looked the 
 gentleman. Every thing was fine ; kid gloves ; 
 spectacles ; watch in a little pocket almost under 
 his arm ; underclothes with a perpendicular aper- 
 ture ; white sole-straps ; gold-head.ed switch. I 
 perceived that his plan was to ' sink the shop.' 
 Poor fellow ! I wished to teach him a lesson, be- 
 cause I had known his father ; so I gave him line 
 for a while, and sat mum, while he talked largely 
 of what the Philadelphians consider the property 
 of each and every citizen Fair Mount Laurel 
 Hill Girard College the new gas-lights the
 
 THE MECHANIC ABOVE HIS BUSINESS. 145 
 
 big ship. Not a word about trade, but much of 
 * Councils,' election, politics, the Great Western, 
 and the theatre. As the company was very com- 
 plaisant, he grew more easy, and at length usurped 
 most of the conversation. At a good pause, I 
 ventured to put in my oar, and asked, ' Can you 
 tell me, sir, how Spanish hides have been sell- 
 ing ?' He looked at me hard, and said, ' Not ex- 
 actly, sir ;' and hastened to talk of something 
 else. ' Pray,' said I, ' do you know whether this 
 business of importing Paris shoes has turned out 
 
 well for the 's in Walnut street?' He 
 
 coloured a little, pulled up the angles of his collar, 
 and said, ' Not being in that line, sir, you must 
 excuse me for not knowing.' He was uneasy, 
 but not quite convinced that he was found out, 
 and went on talking quite largely about the ship- 
 ping business. I thought I could come a little 
 nearer home by another inquiry, so I said gaily, 
 ' Allow me to ask you whether good old Mr. 
 Smack sticks to the last ? I remember the day 
 when he could finish his pair of boots with any 
 man in Jersey.' This was wormwood ; for he 
 knew in his heart that Mr. Smack was his own 
 father ; yet as he was not even yet quite sure that 
 I was apprized of the connexion, he replied with 
 some confidence, though with a red face, ' Mr. 
 Smack ? ah yes the old man ; he has no 
 13
 
 146 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 been in active business for several years.' I 
 should perhaps have been content with going thus 
 far. had not young Mr. Smack launched out in a 
 strain, more affected than ever, of very absurd 
 discourse about playhouse matters. As it was, 
 inasmuch as I never was ashamed of being a me- 
 chanic myself, I knew no reason why he should 
 be ; so at the earliest rest in the conversation, I 
 said, ' Mr. Smack, I am pleased to see that you 
 keep up the old business : a very pretty stand 
 that of yours in Second street ; and if you please 
 customers as well as your good old father did, I 
 can engage for your success.' This speech settled 
 my man. He turned several colours ; the pas- 
 sengers exchanged looks and smiled ; and at the 
 next watering-place Mr. Smack went outside and 
 made the rest of the journey on the box." 
 
 " I can't help thinking," said Sammy, " that 
 this was a little illnatured in you, father. The 
 thing is this. We live in a land of liberty and 
 equality : we are looked down upon as labourers, 
 and twitted as mechanics, ' snobs,' and so on. It 
 is very natural, therefore, that a man should try 
 to escape these sneers, and put the best foot fore- 
 most." 
 
 " But hold, Sammy ; I agree it is natural and 
 right to escape from contempt ; but take the right 
 way to effect it. What is the right way? Cer-
 
 THE MECHANIC ABOVE HIS BUSINESS. 147 
 
 tainly not by being above one's business, or try- 
 ing to ' sink the shop.' For this is saying that 
 you are yourself ashamed of your calling ; where- 
 as you ought to be proud of it. Why conceal a 
 thing, unless you think it a disgrace ? Can you 
 expect other men to respect that which you de- 
 spise yourself? There is no surer way of bring- 
 ing honest industry into contempt, than by using 
 low shifts to avoid the appearance of labour. If 
 you wish the public to respect your vocation, 
 show that you respect it yourself." 
 
 Such was the advice of this veteran mechanic 
 to his son ; and I verily believe there is sound 
 wisdom in it. It is very common to find the very 
 same persons complaining that they are looked 
 down upon, who encourage the contempt by 
 seeming ashamed of that which is their honour. 
 After some years of careful observation, I have 
 never seen a mechanic above his business, who 
 did not meet with mortification where he sought 
 respect ; and I have never seen a working-man, 
 however humble his sphere, who lost any con- 
 sideration in society by frankly appearing in his 
 real character, and laying his own hand to the 
 task whenever it became needful. The working- 
 men of America constitute a powerful and in- 
 creasing class, and should do nothing to betray a 
 doubt as to their own respectability.
 
 148 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE MECHANIC IN SICKNESS. 
 
 THERE are, at any given moment, more scenes 
 of heart-touching grief among the humbler classes 
 of society, than are ever dreamed of by the gay 
 and opulent. It is one thing to sigh over the 
 pictured sorrows of a romance, and another thing 
 to enter among the realities of human suffering. 
 In the latter case, we have to do with the naked, 
 and often loathsome evil, without deduction, and 
 without qualifying refinements. 
 
 Not long since, my business led me to visit 
 the family of a young mechanic a few yards 
 from my own lodgings. He was a journeyman 
 printer, who had known fairer days : as had also 
 his wife, a very young woman of little more than 
 twenty years. This couple, with two infants, 
 occupied a confined room in a third story. Some 
 of my readers know that such is the habitation 
 of many a larger household ; and when favoured 
 with employment and health, there may be true 
 comfort even in such a spot. But the case was 
 here far different. At my first entrance, I felt
 
 THE MECHANIC IN SICKNESS '49 
 
 that I was inhaling the noxious air of a sick 
 room. The apartment was kept much too warm 
 by an unmanageable old stove, upon which were 
 simmering, in one or two earthen mugs, various 
 simples, imagined to be suitable to the patient. 
 The fumes of these, and the atmosphere of a 
 chamber which could never be duly ventilated, 
 made the place oppressive in the extreme. In 
 one corner, upon a sorry bed, lay poor JAMESON, 
 haggard and wan, and plainly labouring under a 
 violent pulmonary affection. The hectic spot 
 upon the cheek, and the painful respiration, too 
 clearly showed the nature of the malady. The 
 hand which he languidly extended, on my en- 
 trance, was husky and hot, and I could feel the 
 throb of the angry arteries, even without touch- 
 ing the wrist. His eye was lighted up with that 
 peculiar glow which accompanies such visita- 
 tions. 
 
 Near the bed, the pale and sorrowful wife, 
 while she held her husband's hand, seemed at 
 the same time to be making fruitless attempts so 
 to arrange the tattered clothes as to conceal the 
 meagerness of the covering. A puny child was 
 hiding its face in her lap, and another was asleep 
 upon the floor. But few words were needed to let 
 me into the extent of their disasters. During the 
 earlier summer they had enjoyed health, and 
 13*
 
 150 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 found ample employment. But the decline of 
 business threw Jameson out of work ; and as he 
 had never earned enough to justify any savings, 
 the end of the season found him almost penni- 
 less. Just at this juncture, an unavoidable expo- 
 sure occasioned a cough, which settled on his ' 
 lungs, and left him in the state I have described. 
 At first they called in a physician, but finding 
 that this was an expense beyond their means, and 
 that his prescriptions were of little avail, they 
 had abandoned this reliance. They were with- 
 out friends, or a single acquaintance except the 
 inmates of the house, who treated them with 
 vulgar indifference. 
 
 When I proceeded to inquire more closely into 
 their circumstances, the poor woman burst into 
 lamentation, and begged me not to press the sub- 
 ject, lest the excitement should be too much for 
 her husband ; while I could perceive the eyes of 
 the sick man himself filling with scalding tears. 
 Indeed, it would be hard to imagine a wretched- 
 ness more abject. At that very moment they 
 were without a mouthful of food. For the sick 
 man it was not needed ; and the heroic self-devo- 
 tion of the wife seemed to raise her above the 
 ordinary cravings of nature ; but she admitted 
 that her heart was breaking with the cries of her 
 little ones for bread.
 
 THE MECHANIC IN SICKNESS. 151 
 
 As I pursued my solitary way homeward, sad- 
 dened by what I had beheld, my gloom was in- 
 creased by the reflection, that even then, and in 
 that single town, there were doubtless many re- 
 petitions of the same scene ; and that the number 
 of these must necessarily be increased upon the 
 access of a severe winter. If, therefore, I could 
 write a line which might serve to prevent or alle- 
 viate such burdens, I thought the effort would not 
 be undesirable. Among working-men, who " live 
 from hand to mouth," sickness is a sore calamity; 
 and on an examination of statistical tables, I find 
 that on an extended computation, the average num- 
 ber of sick days in a working-man's year is far 
 greater than I had imagined. The late pressure 
 and present embarrassments in commerce cannot 
 fail to make themselves felt, by their operation 
 on the mind. " Of the causes of disease," says 
 a judicious English physician, " anxiety of mind 
 is one of the most frequent and important 
 When we walk the streets of large commercial 
 towns, we can scarcely fail to remark the hurried 
 gait and care-worn features of the well-dressed 
 passengers. We live in a state of unnatural ex- 
 citement ; unnatural, because it is partial, irre- 
 gular, and excessive. Our muscles waste for 
 want of action ; our nervous system is worn out 
 by excess of action." We may add, that in
 
 152 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 many trades there is an excess in both sorts of 
 action, and the body is worn away by labour 
 while the mind is exhausted by despondency. If, 
 then, disease is so sore a calamity to the working- 
 man, it were greatly to be desired that every such 
 person should be in some measure familiar with 
 the laws of his animal constitution, and by all pos- 
 sible means should guard against the decay of his 
 animal powers. But, inasmuch as sickness is 
 unavoidable, with even the wisest precautions, 
 there are one or two considerations which every 
 mechanic should ponder, with reference to what 
 has been hinted above. 
 
 First, Frugality and economy should be used 
 in time of health, in order to lay up something 
 for time of sickness. Disease is most oppres- 
 sive when it is conjoined with poverty. Though 
 a money-loving, we are at the same time an 
 improvident, race. Many good and thrifty ar- 
 tisans lay up nothing. I know men now in ab- 
 ject want, who, a few months ago, were earning 
 each his twenty dollars a week. What can such 
 men do to resist the sudden tide of disease ? 
 
 Secondly, Working-men should avail them- 
 selves of associations for mutual relief in case 
 of sickness. Beneficent societies of this nature 
 are common, but hale and well-doing persons are 
 in many instances neglectful of this resource until
 
 THE MECHANIC IN SICKNESS. 153 
 
 it is too late. The manner in which these institu- 
 tions are conducted is frequently most injudicious. 
 The rates both of subscription and of disburse- 
 ment are often unwise, and contrary to all sound 
 principles of life-insurance and probability. The 
 consequence is, that in bad times the fund is ex- 
 hausted. Before any such scheme is ratified, it 
 should be carefully examined by persons versed in 
 the intricate calculations of annuities. And when 
 the plan goes into effect, there should be great care 
 taken to guard against wanton expenditure upon 
 entertainments, processions, and other unneces- 
 sary wastes. I would commend this subject to 
 the careful discrimination of all those who are 
 interested in the well-being of the labouring 
 classes. 
 
 Thirdly, Private benevolence should busy it- 
 self in seeking out and relieving all such cases 
 of distress. Let the mechanic feel that his in- 
 terest is identified with that of all his brethren. 
 Let him be quick to descry, and alert to mitigate 
 the sorrows of his own townsmen and neighbours. 
 No associated action can reach every case ; but 
 private charity, inspired by the genius of the 
 gospel, may extend its kindly arm to the humblest 
 sufferer. It is one of the most striking particulars 
 in the account of the last judgment, as given by our 
 Saviour, that the great final doom is to be awarded
 
 154 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 with a direct reference to duties of this very 
 class. That which is done for Christ's poor 
 brethren is done for Christ; and if we neglect 
 them, we neglect our own salvation. For the 
 King shall say to those who have been guilty of 
 this omission, " I was an hungered, and ye gave 
 me no meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no 
 drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in ; 
 naked, and ye clothed me not ; sick and in prison, 
 and ye visited me not."
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WINTER EVENINGS. 155 
 
 * 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 THE dreariest of all the seasons is not without 
 its charms. If we have no verdure, nor flowers, 
 nor zephyrs, we have the bright fireside and the 
 family circle. Some of our most valuable attain- 
 ments may be made, and some of our purest 
 pleasures enjoyed, during the long winter even- 
 ings. It is, however, unfortunately the case with 
 too many, that these fine opportunities are thrown 
 away. 
 
 The other evening, after my usual light meal, 
 the thought struck me, that I would give some- 
 thing to know how some half dozen of my ac- 
 quaintances were spending their hours of release. 
 Now, as I have no familiar Asmodeus to unroof 
 for me my neighbours' houses and disclose their 
 contents, I was reduced to the necessity of seizing 
 my good oaken stick, and sallying forth upon a 
 rapid tour of espionage. 
 
 At the very first corner, I perceived through 
 the window my old comrade Stith, employed, as 
 usual, with his pipe. After a day spent at the lathe,
 
 156 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 he thinks himself entitled to this luxury ; and 
 with his dog at his feet, and his tobacco-box at his 
 elbow, he sacrifices long hours of every night to 
 the subduing influence of a narcotic. As I should 
 only disturb his reverie, thought I, I will pass on. 
 
 Boulanger, the French baker, was the next in 
 order. When I knocked, there was no reply. 
 At length a drowsy boy let me in, and, as I ex- 
 pected, there was the corpulent master of the 
 house fast asleep in an arm-chair. It is surprising 
 how " practice makes perfect" in the art of slum- 
 bering. There may be some excuse for the baker, 
 who has to rise several hours before day ; but the 
 practice is by no means confined to him ; and I 
 know more than one working-man who prepares 
 for the regular night's work of the bed, by a sort 
 of prelibation in the chimney-corner. This case 
 offered nothing to detain me. 
 
 My next call was at the Golden Swan, one of 
 the numerous taverns of our village. The bar- 
 room was highly illuminated with many lamps, 
 and two bright coal fires : the atmosphere was 
 almost palpable, so thick was the smoke ; and the 
 air was redolent of alcoholic mixtures. Here I 
 found, as I never fail to find at this hour, four or 
 five of our mechanics ; some smoking, some 
 chewing, some drinking ; and all engaged with 
 loud voices in discussing the affairs of the state
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WINTER EVENINGS. 157 
 
 and nation. Of such men the tavern is the home. 
 True, each of them has a residence, inhabited by 
 his wife, and known by the assessor ; and where 
 indeed he eats and sleeps : but that is not his 
 home. His heart is not there, but at the bar- 
 room, whither he goes with the momentum of an 
 unbent spring, whenever labour is over ; in which 
 he spends the long evening of every day ; and 
 from which he reels to his family, at a late hour, 
 to chide his wife for being up so late, and fo r 
 looking so melancholy. 
 
 I gladly passed on to the dwelling of Quince, 
 the shoemaker. Alas ! the scene was altered, but 
 not improved. The spirit of intoxication leads 
 some men to ruin in groups, others in soli- 
 tude. Quince is not a tavern-brawler, but a 
 sot. During the day he never drinks ; during the 
 evening he does little else. There are many that 
 have a fair reputation in the world, who never go 
 to bed sober. I am willing to drop a veil over 
 the particulars which I witnessed. 
 
 The scene brightened when I reached the steps 
 of John Hall, the cabinet-maker ; for I found his 
 front room illuminated, and occupied by a little 
 religious meeting. But I proceeded, and stepped 
 into the house of Dukes, my next acquaintance, 
 and was near spending the whole hour there ; for 
 he and his wife and children were engaged in a 
 14
 
 158 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 little musical concert, which was most enviable. 
 Mary Dukes sung over her knitting, and Robert 
 sung over his base-viol ; while the two boys, om, 
 with a flute and the other with a violin, added a 
 good accompaniment. As I hurried away, I 
 perceived the silversmith, who hires their front 
 room for a shop, busily employed in posting his 
 books. 
 
 Having travelled thus far on one side of the 
 street, I thought it no more than fair to return on 
 the other ; so I crossed over, and knocked at the 
 door of Belden, the coppersmith. The house is 
 one of the tidiest in our town, at whatever hour 
 you may drop in ; and this must be set to the 
 credit of the notable partner. Truly the sight 
 was a pleasant one which met my eyes as I 
 was ushered into their best room ; being nothing 
 less than a genuine old-fashioned tea-drinkinp" 
 with some dozen of pleasant neighbours, all in 
 their best dress and best humours, around a well- 
 feden table and a smoking urn. When I com- 
 pared the healthy glow of their countenances with 
 the excited glare of the tavern-haunters, I could, 
 not hesitate whose evening to prefer. But I 
 denied myself, and went on. I hesitated a mo- 
 ment about intruding upon my friend George 
 Riley, wheelwright, because I remembered how 
 lately he had lost his wife ; but lon<t intimacy em-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S WINTER EVENINGS 159 
 
 boldened me, and I went in. George was sitting 
 by the fire, with an infant on his knee, and two 
 little girls seated by his side. He was talking 
 with them in a low tone of voice, and a tear was 
 twinkling in his eye as he rose to accost me. 
 No doubt he was giving them some useful in- 
 struction, for a Bible was lying open on the stand, 
 and George is a man of religious feelings. 
 
 Last of all, I chose to enter the little back-room 
 of Henderson, the Scotch weaver, nothing doubt- 
 ing as to what I should find. As I expected, 
 Colin was at his books. A large map was spread 
 out upon the table, and on this he was tracing the 
 triumphant progress of Napoleon, whose life he 
 was engaged in reading. Henderson is a man of 
 slender means, but he finds himself able to lay 
 out a few dollars every year upon good books ; 
 and the number of these has increased so much, 
 that he has lately fitted up a neat little bookcase 
 in one corner of his room. He has also a pair 
 of globes, and an electrical machine, and has 
 made himself quite familiar with natural philo- 
 sophy and chemistry. Almost all his evenings 
 are spent in reading, or in making philosophical 
 experiments ; and I am persuaded that none of 
 his neighbours enjoy more comfort than he. 
 After a few minutes' conversation with him, I 
 came home, musing upon the blindness of the
 
 160 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 multitude, who cannot perceive the profit and 
 pleasure of knowledge. But I defer my reflec- 
 tions on this subject for another paper, as I have 
 much more to say than can be comprehended in 
 a single communication.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 16! 
 
 -' ' 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Importance of Education to the American Mechanic 
 
 I AM ready to believe that the day is past, in 
 which any one could find the title of this paper 
 strange or ludicrous. If there is any reader who 
 is disposed to take such a view of the subject, I 
 must set him down as an emigrant from some 
 despotic state, or a native of some wild frontier. 
 There are regions, and there have been periods 
 of time, in which mechanics have been held at so 
 low a rate, as to be ranked but one degree above 
 beasts of burden; to whom we might look for 
 valuable service, but who needed no illumination. 
 A better doctrine prevails in America. Wherever 
 God has made a soul, we maintain that he has 
 furnished a receptacle for knowledge. Some 
 men must indeed require more knowledge than 
 others, just as some men acquire more wealth 
 than others ; but man is an intelligent, or, in other 
 words, a knowing creature ; and we wish the 
 stream of knowledge to be conducted to every in- 
 dividual of our nation. 
 
 14*
 
 162 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 The working-man is not expected to become 
 an erudite scholar, or profound philosopher ; this 
 is the lot of such only as make the pursuit of 
 knowledge their great business for life. But there 
 is no man who may not acquire information 
 enough on every subject, to be highly useful and 
 agreeable. I have already suggested, in the course 
 of these papers, that knowledge is peculiarly im- 
 portant to mechanics in America. In our free 
 and growing country there is no barrier to inde- 
 finite advancement. Among the Hindoos, the 
 son of a carpenter must be a carpenter ; and the 
 son of a blacksmith, a blacksmith. In the de- 
 spotic states of Europe, the hedge of caste is not 
 quite so high ; yet such is the state of society, 
 that, in the long run, the labourer's son is always 
 a labourer ; and though many sink below, few rise 
 above the level of their origin. How different is 
 the case among us ! Every reader of these lines 
 will think of persons who were once poor work- 
 ing-men, but who are now not merely rich, but 
 distinguished in political and civil life. We at 
 once call to mind the names of Benjamin Frank- 
 lin, David Rittenhouse, Nathaniel Greene, Roger 
 Sherman, and Thomas Ewing. Here then is a 
 strong reason why the working-man should have 
 education. Perhaps he will not always be a 
 working-man ; nay, it is his aim and expectation
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 163 
 
 to be something more. Now, if this wish be 
 gratified, he will find himself in a new circle, 
 amidst new companions, and where new qualifi- 
 cations for respectability will be demanded. 
 Among men of information and refinement of 
 mind, he will need something of the same, in 
 order to take an equal rank. There are few ob- 
 jects more laughable than a vulgar and ignorant 
 man of wealth. Every young mechanic should 
 resolve to gain as great a store of information as 
 is possible, in order to be ready for these changes 
 which may take place in his circumstances. 
 
 But there is another peculiarity of American 
 society, which renders some learning indispen- 
 sable to the mechanic. Not only may he cease 
 to be a working-man, but, even remaining such, 
 he may be admitted to the intimacy of the accom- 
 plished and the elegant. Amidst these last I am 
 bold to enrol some friends among the labouring 
 classes enough, certainly, to show that the two 
 things are by no means incompatible. Now, edu- 
 cated and refined persons do not enjoy the com- 
 pany of those who are just the reverse. If you 
 desire to mingle with persons of this character, 
 you must seek to have some of their excellencies : 
 and having these, there will be no obstacle to your 
 admission. In Europe it is not so ; there the de- 
 marcation between ranks is strongly drawn. In
 
 164 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 America, though demagogues are fond of crying 
 Aristocracy! there is no aristocracy in the Eu- 
 ropean sense of that word. Here, it is true, as all 
 over the world, like seeks its like the rich man 
 consorts with the rich man the poor with the 
 poor the mechanic with the mechanic. But let 
 it be remembered, that in America the educated 
 man also seeks the intimacy of the educated man ; 
 and this whether he be rich or poor. Few ties 
 of association are stronger than the common pur- 
 suit of knowledge. If you are possessed of 
 science, or even seeking it, you have a passport 
 to the study of the scholar. My word for it, that 
 this experiment will not fail. Let the humblest 
 labourer, possessed of some philosophical acqui- 
 sition, go to Bowditch, Silliman, Henry, Cleve- 
 land, Bache, or Emmet, with a view to confer on 
 a topic of common interest, and I will engage that 
 no one of these learned men will ask whether he 
 is rich or poor a professor or a pedler. 
 
 Take it into consideration, likewise, that posts 
 of honour and responsibility are open to all classes 
 of men in the commonwealth. No poor mother, 
 who looks on her sleeping babe, can predict with 
 certainty that this very child may not one day be 
 President of the United States. Leaving this ex- 
 treme supposition, however, let it be noticed, that 
 a large proportion of our public functionaries,
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 165 
 
 especially in the new states, are men who have 
 laboured with their hands. How did it happen 
 that these, rather than many others, obtained such 
 prizes ? Was it by mere chance ? Certainly 
 not ; but by the deliberate choice of their fellow- 
 citizens. Were they then the only men of talents 
 in all that class of society ? By no means : there 
 are thousands still at the last and the loom, whose 
 native powers are equal to theirs. What then is 
 the secret of their advancement ? I will tell you : 
 They had a thirst for knowledge. They pursued 
 and attained it. Knowledge is power : they thus 
 gained power over their fellow men, exactly in 
 proportion to their mental attainments. Here is 
 a motive to exertion, which might well move 
 every young man of spirit to attempt the improve- 
 ment of his mind. 
 
 All these reasons, notwithstanding their truth 
 and importance, should still have less cogency 
 than the conviction of duty, which must arise 
 whenever we consider ourselves as rational and 
 immortal creatures. God has not given us these 
 minds to be unemployed. Our usefulness in life 
 depends very much on the exercise which we 
 give to our faculties. 
 
 In several subsequent papers, I propose to offer 
 a few suggestions, intended to stimulate working 
 men to more earnest intellectual endeavours ; to
 
 166 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 point out the advantages and pleasures of such 
 pursuits ; to give some hints of what matters it is 
 desirable to know ; to indicate the ways and means 
 of acquiring knowledge ; and to encourage even 
 the busy mechanic in the hope that by redeem- 
 ing time he may arrive at invaluable attainments. 
 Let me ask the attention of the industrious 
 classes to these counsels of a friend.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 167 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 The Pleasures of Knowledge. 
 
 No man ever needed any arguments to increase 
 his desire for the pleasures of sense. Yet these 
 pleasures are in their nature evanescent ; soon 
 palling upon the jaded appetite ; and, when pur- 
 sued beyond certain very narrow limits, produc- 
 tive of great pain. In their quality, also, they 
 are acknowledged to be the lowest of our gratifi- 
 cations. It is far otherwise with the pleasures 
 of the mind. These are high, and spiritual, and 
 ennobling, and may be pursued without weari- 
 ness and without satiety. 
 
 That there is a natural thirst in all men for 
 knowledge, and that the gratification of this thirst 
 conveys pleasure, are truths which are felt to be 
 such as soon as stated. The infant's curiosity, 
 and the inquisitiveness of the schoolboy, the 
 search for strange or wonderful objects, and the 
 universal passion for news, are all modifications 
 of the same original propensity. If there is one 
 boy in a shop, who has travelled more, or read
 
 168 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 more than his fellows, he straightway becomes 
 their oracle, and they extract from him all that he 
 can communicate. Many readers of the news- 
 papers are really hard students ; but they have 
 never yet entertained the important truths, that 
 all serious reading is study ; that the same pro- 
 pensities are gratified in perusing the news as in 
 poring over the sciences ; and that the process 
 of acquiring knowledge is in both cases the same. 
 My desire is to impress on the mind of every 
 young mechanic, that a little increase of learning 
 will give him a great increase of happiness. 
 Knowledge ^s Power, says Lord Bacon. Know- 
 ledge is Pleasure, we may add with equal truth. 
 Perhaps you will grant this, but you have taken 
 up the notion that this pleasure must be sought 
 through a great deal of pain. No supposition 
 can be more erroneous. The first steps towards 
 these fruits are, indeed, over a rugged way. The 
 trunk of the tree is of difficult ascent. The husk 
 is rough. But these obstacles are little more 
 than momentary, and, having once overcome 
 them, you have nothing but a succession of en- 
 joyments. Indeed, the pursuit of knowledge is 
 so purely pleasurable, that I have often paused, 
 and sat in amazement at the blindness and folly 
 of those, who, with every opportunity and free 
 invitation, never enter this garden. I may say
 
 THE. MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 169 
 
 with Milton, to such as yield to my guidance, 
 "We shall conduct you to a hill-side, laborious 
 indeed at the first ascent; but else so smooth, 
 so green, so full of goodly prospects and melo- 
 dious sounds, that the harp of Orpheus was not 
 more charming." 
 
 The pleasures of knowledge are distinct from 
 its utility ; and were there no profit in science, it 
 might still be sought as the highest luxury. By 
 reading and study you become acquainted with a 
 great number of new and extraordinary truths. 
 Hear Lord Brougham on this point: " How won- 
 derful are the laws that regulate, the motions of 
 fluids ! Is there any thing in all the idle books 
 of tales and horrors, more truly astonishing than 
 the fact, that a few pounds of water may, by 
 mere pressure, without any machinery by 
 merely being placed in a particular way, produce 
 an irresistible force ? That the diamond should 
 be made of the same material as coal ; that water 
 should be chiefly composed of an inflammable 
 substance ; that acids should be, for the most 
 part, formed of different kinds of air ; that one 
 of these acids, whose strength can dissolve 
 almost any of the metals, should consist of the 
 selfsame ingredients with the common air we 
 breathe ; that salts should be of a metallic nature, 
 and composed in great part of metals, fluid like 
 15
 
 170 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 quicksilver, but lighter than water, and which, 
 without heating, take fire upon being exposed to 
 the air, and, by burning, form the substance so 
 abounding in saltpetre and in the ashes of burnt 
 wood: these, surely, are things to excite the 
 wonder of any reflecting mind nay, of any one 
 but little accustomed to reflect. And yet these 
 are trifling when compared to the prodigies which 
 astronomy opens to our view : the enormous 
 masses of the heavenly bodies ; their immense 
 distances, their countless numbers, and their mo- 
 tions, whose swiftness mocks the utmost efforts 
 of the imagination." To this we may add the 
 pleasure of discerning new relations between 
 truths already known ; of advancing in the track 
 of discovery ; and of conducting trains of rea- 
 soning to undeniable conclusions. For lighter 
 hours, the records of past ages open a path of 
 entertainment far more healthful, and far more 
 enduring than the pages of the romance. Truth 
 is more wonderful, more fascinating than fiction. 
 I have recently been reading a detailed account 
 of the French Revolution, by a very eminent 
 statesman of France : and I can truly say, that 
 although I have been a great devourer of novels 
 in my day, I have never had my curiosity, sym- 
 pathy, dread, and indignation, wound up to so 
 high a pitch of interest, as in the perusal of these
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 171 
 
 volumes. Why should the mechanic, more than 
 other men, be willing to remain in ignorance of 
 all that has been occurring for centuries upon our 
 globe ? His interests are those of common 
 humanity. An ancient has said, " Not to know 
 what happened before you were born, is to be 
 always a child." Why should not the mechanic, 
 as well as his wealthier neighbours, enjoy the 
 high satisfaction of reading the story of past 
 ages, and especially of his country's independ- 
 ence ? If it be possible for a working-man to 
 have these exquisite satisfactions, surely every 
 one will say at once, Let him have them without 
 delay. That it is possible, I mean to show in 
 the papers which follow. One of the greatest 
 privileges of a freeman is denied to him who re- 
 mains in ignorance for he might as well be a 
 slave. The religious man, also, who suffers his 
 mind to continue without cultivation, buries one 
 of his most important talents. " The delight is 
 inexpressible," says the noble author quoted 
 above, " of being able to follow, as it were, with 
 our eyes, the marvellous works of the Great 
 Architect of Nature to trace the unbounded 
 power and exquisite skill which are exhibited in 
 the most minute, as well as the mightiest parts 
 of his system. The pleasure derived from this 
 study is unceasing, and so various, that it never
 
 172 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 tires the appetite. But it is unlike the low gra- 
 tifications of sense in another respect : while 
 those hurt the health, debase the understanding, 
 and corrupt the feelings, this elevates and refines 
 our nature, teaching us to look upon all earthly 
 objects as insignificant and below our notice, ex- 
 cept the pursuit of knowledge and the cultivation 
 of virtue ; and giving a dignity and importance 
 to the enjoyment of life, which the frivolous and 
 the grovelling cannot even comprehend."
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 173 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 The Profit of Knowledge. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE is POWER, said Lord Bacon, and 
 the aphorism has become immortal ; but I think 
 it has not been sufficiently considered that the 
 same observation, in substance, was made many 
 centuries earlier by Solomon, who says, Wis- 
 dom is better than strength. When I think of 
 answering the question, " What are the uses of 
 knowledge ?" I am disheartened at the greatness 
 of the subject. Volumes might be written in 
 reply ; and I am almost tempted to cut the matter 
 short, by saying, " All conceivable uses." All the 
 good there is in the world is in a sense the pro- 
 duct of knowledge. Compare the Hottentot with 
 the Englishman, and own the power of education. 
 Knowledge is the instrument in civilizing the 
 world ; and in proportion to the knowledge of any 
 individual is his exaltation above the savage state. 
 
 You are, let me suppose, an artisan ; you know 
 that some information is useful to certain ends, 
 but you are contented to seek those ends by an 
 15*
 
 174 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 easier and shorter method, independently of 
 science. Allow me to tell you that you egre- 
 giously mistake. You cannot throw out the in- 
 fluence of knowledge any more than the influence 
 of gravity. It is still knowledge which governs, 
 though it may not be possessed by you. The 
 only option which you have, is between being 
 under the dominion of other people's knowledge, 
 or taking part in the direction by your own. This 
 makes a striking difference among mechanics. 
 One man is a mere imitator. He turns out good 
 work, but precisely as his old master did fifty 
 years ago. He has no principles, exercises no 
 reason, and makes no improvements. It is his 
 pleasure to drive his wheel in the old rut. This 
 is more like instinct than intellect ; thus the bird 
 builds its nest precisely as its ancestors have don 
 ever since the creation. But a second workman 
 has knowledge ; he learns to investigate ; he ap- 
 plies a little science to his work, and he becomes 
 a discoverer. His methods are the fruit of reflec- 
 tion, and they save labour, time, materials, and 
 money. 
 
 Let me illustrate this a little more fully. The 
 story is familiar of the boy who always took his 
 sacks to the mill with the corn in one end and a 
 great stone to balance it in the other : his father 
 and grandfather, forsooth, had done so before him.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 175 
 
 Here we have a picture of the way in which 
 ignorant men go on from age to age without ad- 
 vancement. It may be safely alleged that there 
 is no handicraft, however plain or humble, to 
 which some of the principles of science may not 
 be applied with advantage. In the more glaring 
 cases, every one grants this. Thus a clock-maker 
 should know something about oscillating bodies ; 
 a pump-maker something of hydraulics. Yet 
 even in these instances many pursue their trades 
 with a mere blind imitation, and are totally at 
 fault when a new case occurs. The coachmaker, 
 and even the wagoner, would gain by understand- 
 ing a few principles about the proper line of 
 draught, and the advantage or disadvantage of the 
 several sorts of springs. A caster of metals was 
 for months perplexed by finding that he could 
 scarcely ever hit the precise weight of metal to 
 be used in casting an article of irregular form ; at 
 length a neighbouring schoolmaster taught him 
 a simple law of hydrostatics, and then he had 
 only first to immerse his model in a tub of water, 
 and then to throw in metal until it reached the 
 same height. Every one sees that some science 
 is required for the invention of the Nott or the 
 Olmsted stove ; but it is not so readily acknow- 
 ledged that some science is required in order to 
 use them with economy and advantage. The
 
 176 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 roughening of surfaces which are to radiate heat 
 is a dictate of philosophy which is often very 
 important. Metallic coffee-pots sometimes burn 
 the fingers : this is avoided by making the handle 
 partly of a non-conductor ; but I have seen the 
 bungling imitator copy this very article, with the 
 ignorant substitution of the painted metal for 
 painted wood ; thus defeating the object. Many 
 a good miller spoils his mill by unphilosophical 
 tampering ; as, for instance, by placing cogs on 
 one of the rings of the water-wheel, or using a 
 driving-wheel of equal diameter ; thus giving a 
 check to the momentum. 
 
 Many valuable products of the earth are lost by 
 the ignorance of their possessors. In some of 
 our States, how long was it before the properties 
 of marl were fully recognised ; and how many 
 agriculturists are still incompetent to make a dis- 
 criminating use of this mineral substance. With- 
 in thirty years, manganese was imported into 
 England from Germany for the arts, while masses 
 of it were ignorantly used for the repair of roads ; 
 and it is not two centuries since the tinners of 
 Cornwall threw away the ores of copper, as 
 refuse, under the name of poder. " To how 
 many kinds of workmen must a knowledge of 
 mechanical philosophy be useful ! To how many 
 others does chemistry prove almost necessary !
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 177 
 
 Every one must perceive at a glance, that 
 to engineers, watchmakers, instrument-makers, 
 bleachers, and dyers, those sciences are most 
 useful, if not necessary. But carpenters and 
 masons are surely likely to do their work better 
 for knowing how to measure, which practical 
 mathematics teaches them, and how to estimate 
 the strength of timber, of walls, and of arches, 
 which they learn from practical mechanics ; and 
 they who work in various metals are certain to be 
 more skilful in their trades for knowing the nature 
 of these substances, and their relations to both 
 heat and other metals, and to the airs and liquids 
 they come in contact with. Nor is it enough to 
 say, that philosophers may discover all that is 
 wanted, and may invent practical methods, which 
 it is sufficient for the working-man to learn by 
 rote, without knowing the principles. He never 
 will work so well if he is ignorant of the prin- 
 ciples ; and for a plain reason : if he only learns 
 his lesson by rote, the least change of circum- 
 stances puts him out. Be the method ever so 
 general, cases will always arise in which it must 
 be varied in order to apply ; and if the workman 
 only knows the rule without knowing the reason, 
 he must be at fault the moment he is required to 
 make any new application of it."* 
 * Library of Useful Knowledge, vol. i. Prelim. Treatise.
 
 178 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 So much for that knowledge which comes into 
 play in the prosecution of the several trades. But 
 over and above this, there is no sort of informa- 
 tion which may not, at one time or another, con- 
 duce to man's comfort or emolument. In this 
 country we are all fond of being politicians, and 
 proud of the right of discussion, and the elective 
 franchise. The history of states and revolutions 
 is, after all, the great treasury of political science, 
 and every free citizen should have access to these 
 stores. 
 
 In a word, if you desire to rise in society, and 
 to influence others, labour for an increase of your 
 knowledge. The method is infallible. Look 
 around you, and find the man who excels all his 
 fellows in useful information, and you will per- 
 ceive in him one who governs the minds and the 
 conduct of a large circle.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 179 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Discouragements, 
 
 IN smoothing the way for the working-man 
 towards the attainment of knowledge, I find that 
 I have not many predecessors.* It is only in 
 modern times that any such assistance has been 
 systematically proffered. Among the works of 
 the ancients, there are none which invite the 
 labouring classes to share in the banquet of sci- 
 ence ; and even in later days, the popular essays 
 of Johnson and Addison have been addressed to 
 the wealthy and the gay. Within a few years 
 past, the cause of popular education, in all free 
 States, has begun to assume its just rank ; and 
 various publications have been made to stimulate 
 the productive portion of nations to inquiry and 
 culture. Still there are many objections to be 
 met, and many discouragements to be blown 
 away, before we can awaken to action even those 
 
 * There is, of course, an exception here in favour of one 
 or two excellent compilations, which are recommended on 
 another page.
 
 ISO T?E AMERICAN MECHANJjQ. 
 
 who admit the excellency of education. I pro- 
 pose to evince to the intelligent mechanic, that 
 the acquisition of learning is practicable ; that 
 there is no obstacle which may not be surmounted; 
 and then, in succeeding papers, to show by un- 
 doubted facts, that every sort of difficulty has 
 actually been overcome. Let me consider some 
 of the objections which are likely to arise. 
 
 1. Tlie, acquisition of learning is a great 
 work, and I am appalled by its vastness. True, 
 the work is great, but not impossible. To attempt 
 the whole circle of sciences would be vain ; but 
 to gain a part, and that a large part, is by no 
 means out of the question. Dr. Johnson some- 
 where uses a happy illustration, of which I. can 
 only recollect the outline. Let a man sit down 
 at the foot of a high mountain, to contemplate its 
 greatness, and he will be ready to say, " The at- 
 tempt is futile ; I can never go over it." Yet, on 
 second thought, he perceives that the work is to 
 be achieved, not at one mighty leap, but by suc- 
 cessive steps, and by the simple process of put- 
 ting one foot before the other. The same great 
 philosopher has said : " The chief art of learn- 
 ing, as Locke has observed, is to attempt but 
 little at a time. The widest excursions of the 
 mind are made by short flights frequently re- 
 peated : the most lofty fabrics of science are
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 181 
 
 formed by the accumulation of single proposi 
 tions." Sands make the mountain, moments 
 make the year. The rock is worn away, not by 
 sudden force, but by perpetual droppings. 
 
 2. I am poor, and cannot hope to become a 
 scholar. Blessed be God ! no golden key is re- 
 quired in order to enter the garden of knowledge. 
 Poverty offers hinderances, but only enough to 
 induce more strenuous efforts. I mean to adduce 
 examples of wonderful attainments made by men 
 whose penury was greater than that of any one 
 who reads these pages. Much may be learned 
 from a few books, and much may be learned 
 without any books at all. Some of the most 
 brilliant discoveries in philosophy and chemistry 
 have flowed from experiments, the whole appa- 
 ratus for which did not cost a dollar. Let the 
 poor man think of Heyne, Hutton, and Ferguson, 
 of whom more hereafter. Wealth does not en- 
 sure learning. Indeed, opulence relaxes perhaps 
 quite as much as want contracts the mind. One 
 of the papers of the Rambler is entitled, " On 
 the difficulty of educating a young nobleman." 
 It is possible that if you were rich you would be 
 far less disposed to acquire knowledge than you 
 are at present. 
 
 3. My occupation is laborious, and I have no 
 time for study Certainly you are unable to 
 
 16
 
 182 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 command as much time as men of leisure ; but 
 you overrate the difficulty. There is not one 
 person in ten who does not spend some of his 
 hours in idleness, if not in vice. Most hard- 
 working men pass more of their time in actual 
 labour than is good for either mind or body : na- 
 ture is supported with moderate toil, and there 
 should be a portion reserved for the refreshment 
 and discipline of the understanding. Besides, 
 more may be learned by devoting a few moments 
 daily to reading, than you would at first suppose. 
 Five pages may be read in fifteen minutes ; at 
 which rate one may peruse twenty-six volumes, 
 of two hundred pages each, in a single year. By 
 saving the broken fragments of time, and redeem- 
 ing hours from sloth and sleep, it is almost incre- 
 dible how much may be accomplished without 
 interfering with the most industrious habits. 
 
 4. / have no teacher or assistant. A good 
 mstructer is of great use, and saves much unne- 
 cessary labour ; but even this is not indispensable. 
 You will see from the examples which I shall 
 give, how many have become learned in spite of 
 this defect. Most educated persons, even among 
 those who have enjoyed the best tuition, will tell 
 you, that by far the most valuable part of their 
 education is that which they have given them- 
 selves. Some of the greatest philosophers and
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 188 
 
 scholars whom the world has seen have been 
 literally self-taught men. Only determine to 
 acquire knowledge ; use the best helps you have ; 
 and wherever you may begin, you will certainly 
 end in great acquirements. 
 
 5. My early education was neglected, and I 
 am now too old to begin. Let me call the at- 
 tention of every youthful reader to this objection. 
 How powerful an argument may be drawn from 
 it in favour of beginning at once ! But even to 
 those who are somewhat advanced in life, I would 
 say with the proverb, " Better late than never." 
 Be encouraged : you have lost the highest prize, 
 but there are others behind. It is true that the 
 man who begins his journey after the sun is high, 
 cannot overtake him who started at dawn, but 
 by activity he may still do a great deal. You will 
 have to work harder than others, but your gain 
 will be just in proportion to your own efforts. 
 
 6. My talents are only of the ordinary kind. 
 Be it so : you may still employ them so as to 
 add immensely to your profit and happiness. It 
 is an injurious error to suppose that the difficulties 
 in the way of knowledge can be overcome only 
 by extraordinary genius. Sir Henry Savile, pro- 
 vost of Eton, and one of the translators of our 
 English Bible, used to say, " Give me the plod- 
 ding student. If I would look for wits, I would
 
 184 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 go to Newgate. There be the wits." That 
 same good sound common-sense which conducts 
 you through the details of your trade, will, if 
 properly directed, lead you to the most desirable 
 attainments in knowledge. Perhaps you may 
 never become a Bacon, a Newton, or a Pascal, 
 but you may obtain enough to double your use- 
 fulness and your comfort. Lay it down as a 
 maxim, that no difficulty, arising from outward 
 circumstances, can effectually resist a steady de- 
 termination to excel.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 185 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Examples. 
 
 To say what can be done is less impres&ive 
 that to say what has been done ; therefore I pro- 
 pose by a number of examples to show what the 
 love of learning and persevering industry have 
 accomplished, even in the persons of the humble.* 
 I might begin with FRANKLIN ; but I take it for 
 granted that every reader of these pages is fami- 
 liar with his history. LINNAEUS is an instance 
 less hackneyed. It is known that he became the 
 greatest naturalist of his day, and the father of a 
 system which bears his name. But it is not so 
 generally known that Linnaeus, the founder of the 
 science of botany, was once seated on the shoe- 
 maker's bench. JOHN HUNTER, one of the greatest 
 anatomists of our own or any age, was a cabinet- 
 maker's apprentice, and spent the first twenty 
 
 * It is no more than just to say here, once for all, that in 
 a number of these instances the author has done little more 
 than abridge the lives published by the " Society for the Dif- 
 fusion of Useful Knowledge." 
 
 16*
 
 186 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 years of his life without education. At this late 
 period, he was led, by the failure of his master, 
 to become an assistant in his brother's dissecting- 
 room ; and here his genius was awakened. The 
 great dramatist, BEN JONSON, was a working 
 bricklayer, and afterwards a soldier. The great- 
 est of modern comic writers, MOLIERE, was four- 
 teen years old before he was an adept in reading 
 and writing. HANS SACHS, an early German 
 poet of great fame, and a very learned scholar, 
 was the son of a tailor, and served an apprentice- 
 ship, first to a shoemaker, and afterwards to a 
 weaver ; and continued to work at the loom as 
 long as he lived. JOHN FOLCZ, another German 
 poet, was a barber. JOHN CHRISTIAN THEDEN, 
 who rose to be chief surgeon to the Prussian 
 army, had been a tailor's apprentice. PAUCTON, 
 an eminent French mathematician, was bred in 
 such poverty, that he received scarcely any edu- 
 cation until he reached his eighteenth year. 
 
 A very remarkable exemplification of successful 
 enterprise occurs in the case of STEPHEN DUCK, 
 a native of Wiltshire. He was born about 1700, 
 of poor parents, and received a little school in- 
 struction. He then became a common labourer 
 for some years, and forgot all that he had pre- 
 viously learned. At length he began to read a 
 little, and found a thirst for knowledge excited.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 187 
 
 He was now twenty-four years of age, with a 
 wife and family, engaged at hard labour, and too 
 poor to buy any books. Yet by extra jobs he 
 earned enough to purchase one or two works on 
 arithmetic and surveying. These he studied with 
 great avidity, at night, while others were asleep. 
 From a comrade he borrowed a few books, such 
 as Milton, the Spectator, Seneca's Morals, an 
 English Dictionary and Grammar, Ovid, Jose- 
 phus, a few plays, Dryden's Virgil, Hudibras, 
 and the poems of Waller and Prior, In process 
 of time he became himself a poet, and attracted 
 some attention, so that he received a pension from 
 the queen. He applied himself to the learned 
 languages, took holy orders, and lived in much 
 respectability until the year 1756. 
 
 This instance, in common with most which I 
 cite, shows that poverty is no effectual barrier to 
 the pursuit of knowledge. The history of the 
 great scholar ERASMUS is well known. While 
 he was studying at Paris his necessities were 
 rery great, so that he was reduced to rags ; yet 
 such was his literary zeal, that he wrote to a 
 friend : " As soon as I get money, I will first buy 
 Greek books, and then clothes." Among the 
 classical scholars of our day, there has been no 
 one more distinguished than the German, HEYNE, 
 a voluminous commentator on Homer and Virgil,
 
 188 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 and an eminent professor; yet his origin was 
 humble, and he had to struggle through great 
 poverty. His father was a poor weaver, with a 
 large family. " Want," says Heyne, " was the 
 earliest companion of my childhood. I well re- 
 member the painful impressions made upon my 
 mind by witnessing the distress of my mother, 
 when without food for her children. How often 
 have I seen her, on a Saturday evening, weeping 
 and wringing her hands, as she returned home 
 from an unsuccessful effort to sell the goods 
 which the daily and nightly toil of my father had 
 manufactured." After the usual course at a vil- 
 lage school, the poor lad wished to learn Latin, 
 and engaged to pay a schoolfellow fourpence a 
 week for instructing him ; but even this pittance 
 would have been too much for him to raise, if it 
 had not been for the kindness of a baker who 
 was his godfather. From this time forward he 
 battled with misfortune till he entered the univer- 
 sity. Here his ardour for study was such, that 
 for six months he allowed himself only two 
 nights' sleep in the week. It is needless to trace 
 his further course : what has been stated shows 
 that poverty is no effectual obstacle. 
 
 The great HERSCHEL was a self-taught astro- 
 nomer. He was the son of a poor musician, and 
 at the age of fourteen was placed in a band of
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 189 
 
 music attached to the Hanoverian guards. After 
 going to England he undertook instruction in 
 music ; then became an organist. But while he 
 was supporting himself in this way, he was learn- 
 ing Italian, Latin, and even Greek. From music 
 he was naturally led to mathematics, and thence 
 to optics and astronomy. His name is now in- 
 scribed among the planetary orbs. 
 
 The inventer of the Achromatic Telescope is 
 another instance in point. JOHN DOLLOND spent 
 his early years at the silk-loom. But even in 
 boyhood he evinced a taste for mathematics, and 
 used to amuse himself with making sundials, and 
 solving geometrical problems. Yet he continued 
 in his original business even for some years after 
 his eldest son came to an age to join him in it. 
 During all this period, however, he was making 
 silent advances in scientific reading. At the age 
 of forty-six, he and his son devoted themselves 
 to optics, and proceeded from step to step until 
 his great discovery respecting light, which ele- 
 vated him to the acme of his reputation. 
 
 How many manufacturers, who may cast their 
 eyes on these lines, might find in the imitation 
 of Dollond an ennobling as well as entertaining 
 pursuit !
 
 190 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 More Examples. Learned Shoemakers. 
 
 WHEN we have to wrestle with difficulties, it 
 is cheering to know that others before us have 
 met and overcome them. The working-man, 
 who is earnestly endeavouring to obtain learning, 
 will find much to incite him in the following in- 
 stances. 
 
 JOSEPH PENDRELL spent his days as a shoe- 
 maker. When he was a boy, he once happened 
 to stop at a book-stall, where he saw a book of 
 arithmetic marked fourpence. He bought it, and 
 immediately began to study it. At the end of 
 this volume there was a short introduction to 
 mathematics. This awakened his curiosity, and 
 he went on adding one book to another, and read- 
 ing these at little snatches of time, until at length 
 he reached the higher branches of mathematics. 
 When he became a journeyman he used all pos- 
 sible economy in order to purchase books. Find- 
 ing that many works on his favourite subject were 
 written in French, he bought a grammar and die-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 191 
 
 tionary, and mastered this language. Then he 
 proceeded to acquire the Latin and the Greek, 
 and formed a collection of classical books. Dur- 
 ing all this progress, however, he kept himself 
 concealed from public observation ; but he con- 
 trived to make himself master of fortification, 
 navigation, astronomy, and all the branches of 
 natural philosophy. He also became versed in 
 elegant literature. Pendrell died in London, in 
 the seventy-fifth year of his age. 
 
 ALEXANDER MURRAY was a Scottish shepherd's 
 boy, and was born in 1775. His father taught 
 him the alphabet by writing it on the back of an 
 old wool-card. He then learned to read in an old 
 catechism, out of which he used to copy the 
 letters. In 1782, he exchanged this for a psalm- 
 book. Next he procured a New Testament, and 
 read the historical books ; and afterwards became 
 the master of a loose-leaved Bible. He spent 
 much of his time, while tending sheep, in writing 
 on boards with a coal. In 1784, he attracted the 
 notice of an uncle, who sent him to school ; but 
 this was only for one quarter, and then for five 
 years he had no teacher. During this time he 
 read nothing but penny ballads and the Bible. In 
 1787, he fell upon Josephus, and Salmon's Geo- 
 graphy, of which he copied the maps. At twelve 
 years of age he became teacher of the neighbour's
 
 192 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 children, for which service his winter's remune- 
 ration was sixteen shillings ! After this he again 
 went to school, pored over the arithmetic, perused 
 the Spectator, and studied book-keeping. In 1790, 
 he learned the Hebrew letters from the 119th 
 psalm, in an old Bible. Then he studied French, 
 and afterwards got an old Latin grammar, which 
 he learned, comparing it with the French. So 
 he went on, and with such patience that he care- 
 fully read the whole of a Latin dictionary. His 
 next study was Milton's Paradise Lost, of which 
 he never ceased to be an enthusiastic admirer. 
 In 1791, he began the Greek, and also proceeded 
 to apply himself in good earnest to the Hebrew. 
 These languages he continued to cultivate, some- 
 times teaching, and sometimes labouring, but 
 always depending on his own exertions. Thus 
 he made progress, adding one attainment to an- 
 other, till at length he became the author of a 
 learned work, and professor of oriental languages 
 in the university of Edinburgh. 
 
 Among modern critics and scholars there is no 
 name more distinguished than that of WILLIAM 
 GIFFORD, the founder and editor of the Quarterly 
 Review. He was born at Ashburton, Devonshire, 
 in 1765. Being left an orphan, and about being 
 sent to the poor-house, he was put to school for 
 awhile by his godfather, and learned a few of the
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 193 
 
 elements. Then he became a ship-boy on board 
 of a coasting vessel, and performed the most 
 menial duties. At the age of fourteen, he re- 
 turned to school, where he distinguished himself; 
 but up to this time his only reading had been the 
 Bible, Thomas a Kempis, and an old romance. 
 He was now apprenticed to a shoemaker, but was 
 a very poor workman, and devoted many of his 
 hours to arithmetic and algebra. His only book 
 was a treatise on the latter of these sciences ; 
 and for lack of other conveniences, he used to 
 work out his problems on leather, with a blunted 
 awl. At this juncture he began to make verses, 
 greatly to the displeasure of his master. Six 
 years he drudged as a shoemaker, often sinking 
 into the deepest melancholy, when, at the age of 
 twenty, he was taken up by some kind patrons, 
 and prepared for the University of Oxford. He 
 afterwards became one of the most celebrated or- 
 naments of modern literature. 
 
 ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, the author of the Farmer's 
 Boy, may here be mentioned. His father, who 
 was a tailor, died before Robert was a year old, 
 and all the education which the boy ever re- 
 ceived, out of his mother's house, was two or 
 three months' instruction in writing. At the age 
 of eleven, he became a farmer's boy. At fifteen, 
 he began to learn the shoemaker's trade with an 
 17
 
 194 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 elder brother living in London. He worked in 
 a garret with four others, and used to be selected 
 to read the papers to the others. An English dic- 
 tionary, cost fourpence, was the first book he pos- 
 sessed ; but after a while, the shoemakers took in 
 weekly numbers of the British Traveller, a geo- 
 graphy, and a History of England, which Robert 
 read to them while they were at work. His 
 brother calculates that he spent in this way about 
 as many hours every week in reading, as boys 
 generally do in play. " I, at this time," says the 
 same brother, " read the London Magazine ; and 
 in that work about two sheets were set apart for 
 a review. Robert always seemed eager to read 
 this review. Here he could see what the literary 
 men were doing, and learn how to judge of the 
 merits of the works that came out. And I ob- 
 served that he always looked at the ' poets' 
 corner.' And one day he repeated a song which 
 lie composed to an old tune. I was surprised 
 that he should make so smooth verses ; so I per- 
 suaded him to try whether the editor of our paper 
 would give them a place in poets' corner.' He 
 succeeded, and they were printed." Such was 
 his first leaning towards poetry. In this garret 
 he composed the Farmer's Boy, amidst all the 
 noise of the hammer and the last. 
 
 THOMAS HOLCROFT is well known as the au-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 195 
 
 thor of " Hugh Trever," and other fictions. He 
 was born in London, in 1745. His father was a 
 shoemaker, and his mother a huckster of greens 
 and oysters. For a very short time he was car- 
 ried to a children's school by an apprentice of his 
 father's. After the removal of the family into 
 Berkshire, the boy learned to read, and this kind 
 apprentice used to bring him little books from the 
 metropolis. The mother became a pedler, and 
 Thomas trotted after her through the country, 
 sometimes begging, and often near starvation. 
 Soon after this he became a stable-boy at New- 
 market, where he picked up a few volumes, such 
 as Gulliver's Travels, The Whole Duty of Man, 
 and the Pilgrim's Progress. He practised arith- 
 metic with an old nail upon the paling of the 
 stable-yard. After two years thus spent, he re- 
 joined his father, who now kept a cobbler's stall 
 in South Audley street. At the age of twenty, 
 he attempted to teach a school, but returned to 
 the stall. Then he began to write for the news- 
 papers : and such were the beginnings of a man 
 who became in time a learned scholar, and a 
 writer of some popularity.
 
 196 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Examples of Self-instruction. 
 
 WHY may not the young artisan who takes up 
 this volume become a learned man ? The thing 
 has been done before, and may be done again. 
 Many a soul of genius is this moment buried in 
 the shop and the factory. I shall proceed with 
 my examples, availing myself of the authorities 
 already mentioned. 
 
 The best beginning I can make is with the case 
 of JAMES FERGUSON, the Scottish philosopher. 
 James was the son of a day-labourer, and was 
 born in 1710. Such was his early thirst for edu- 
 cation, that he learned to read tolerably well be- 
 fore his father had any suspicion that he knew 
 his letters. When about eight years of age, he 
 began to make experiments with levers, which he 
 called bars, and succeeded in discovering the great 
 mechanical principle which regulates their opera- 
 tion. In the same manner he found out the law 
 of the wheel and axle being without books or 
 teacher, or any tools but his father's turning-lathe
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 197 
 
 and a pocket-knife. He had actually written out 
 an account of his supposed discoveries before he 
 learned that the same things were contained in 
 printed books. While employed as a shepherd's 
 boy, he used to amuse himself, in the midst of 
 his flock, by making models of spinning-wheels 
 and mills ; and at night he studied the starry 
 heavens. His method was to wrap himself in a 
 blanket, and, with a lighted candle, to lie for hours 
 on his back in the open fields. " I used to 
 stretch," says he, " a thread with small beads on 
 it, at arm's length, between my eye and the stars, 
 sliding the beads upon it till they hid such and 
 such stars from my eye, in order to take their 
 apparent distances from one another ; and then 
 laying the thread down on a paper, I marked the 
 stars thereon by the beads." Mr. Gilchrist, the 
 minister of Keith, coming to the knowledge of 
 this, furnished him with compasses, ruler, pens, 
 ink, and paper, and set him to copying maps. 
 His kind master often took the flail out of his 
 hands and worked himself, while James sat by 
 him in the barn, busy with his pen, rule, and 
 dividers. A neighbouring butler gave him some 
 hints in dialling, decimal fractions, and algebra, 
 and lent him books. Among these was a geo- 
 graphy, which contained a description of a globe, 
 but without any figure. This set Ferguson at 
 17*
 
 198 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 work, and he made a wooden ball, covered it 
 with a map, and thus made the first artificial 
 globe he ever saw. By the aid of this he solved 
 problems. 
 
 Soon after this be became an invalid, and went 
 into the service of a miller. Here he made a 
 wooden clock, and afterwards a wooden watch, 
 both of which kept time pretty well. From this 
 he proceeded to clean clocks, to copy prints, and 
 even to take likenesses ; and followed the busi- 
 ness of a painter for six-and-twenty years. Here 
 we may leave him, after saying that his nume- 
 rous works on philosophical subjects are still 
 held in high esteem. 
 
 Next I adduce the case of THOMAS SIMPSON, 
 the great mathematician. He was born in Leices- 
 tershire, in 1710. His father was a weaver, with 
 whom Thomas, after learning to read imperfectly, 
 began to learn his trade. But he loved books, 
 and was resolved to be a scholar. This led to 
 repeated quarrels with his father, who turned 
 him out of doors. He found refuge in the house 
 of a poor widow, and there stole a little time for 
 reading. From a fortune-telling pedler, who pre- 
 tended to astrology, he acquired some taste for 
 astronomy. Cocker's Arithmetic and a book of 
 algebra introduced him to the exact sciences. 
 He became a schoolmaster for a time, but soon
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 199 
 
 returned to the loom, still making wonderful at- 
 tainments in knowledge. Having heard of the 
 mysteries of the differential calculus, he procured 
 two works on fluxions, and not only mastered 
 them, but qualified himself to write a book on 
 this intricate subject, which was afterwards pub- 
 lished, and gained great applause. After this 
 time his mathematical publications rapidly follow- 
 ed one another ; he became professor of mathe- 
 matics at Woolwich and a fellow of the Royal 
 Society, and died in 1761. 
 
 The next example is not less instructive, 
 though it is that of a less celebrated man. ED- 
 MUND STONE was the son of the Duke of Argyle's 
 gardener. As the duke was walking one day in 
 his garden, he observed a Latin copy of Newton's 
 " Principia" lying on the grass, and supposing it 
 had been brought from his own library, called 
 upon some one to carry it back. " Upon this," 
 says his biographer, " Stone, who was then in 
 his eighteenth year, claimed the book as his own. 
 ' Yours ?' replied the duke : ' do you under- 
 stand geometry, Latin, and Newton ?' ' I know 
 a little of them,' replied the young man. The 
 duke was surprised ; and, having a taste for the 
 sciences, he entered into conversation with the 
 young mathematician. He asked him several
 
 200 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 questions ; and was astonished at the force, the 
 accuracy, and the candour of his answers. ' But 
 how,' said the duke, ' came you by the know- 
 ledge of all these things?' Stone replied, 'A 
 servant taught me, ten years ago, to read. Does 
 one need to know more than the twenty-four 
 letters in order to learn every thing else that one 
 wishes ?' The duke's curiosity redoubled : he 
 sat down on a bank, and requested a detail of 
 the whole process by which he had become so 
 learned. 
 
 " * I first learned to read ;' said Stone : ' the 
 masons were then at work on your house. I 
 approached them one day, and observed that the 
 architect used a rule and compass, and that he 
 made calculations. I inquired what might be 
 the meaning and use of these things, and I was 
 informed that there was a science called arith- 
 metic. I purchased a book of arithmetic, and 
 learned it. I was told there was another science 
 called geometry; I bought the necessary books, and 
 learned geometry. By reading, I found that there 
 were good books in these two sciences in Latin ; 
 I bought a dictionary, and I learned Latin. I 
 understood, also, that there were good books of 
 the same kind in French ; I bought a dictionary, 
 and I learned French. And this, my lord, is what
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 201 
 
 I have done : it seems to me that we may learn 
 every thing when we know the twenty-four letters 
 of the alphabet.' " Stone also became a useful 
 mathematical writer, and a member of the Royal 
 Society ; and though he is by no means to be 
 compared with Simpson, yet it was one of Stone's 
 books from which Simpson acquired his first 
 knowledge of fluxions. 
 
 To my other instances I might add those of 
 three Americans, who are all living, all working 
 printers, and, if I mistake not, all journeymen. 
 From motives of delicacy,! must suppress names, 
 out the truth of the statement can be abundantly 
 vouched by many who will peruse these pages. 
 The first is the case of a self-taught man in the 
 city of Albany, well known as an excellent work- 
 man, and no less so among scientific men as one 
 of the most profound mathematicians in America. 
 The second case is that of a younger man, re- 
 siding in Brooklyn, who, amidst the labours of the 
 composing-desk and the press, has found time to 
 make himself thorough master of the Hebrew, 
 Greek, Latin, French, and German languages, and 
 is, moreover, one of the few men in the United 
 States who are versed in the Arabic tongue. 
 The third is a journeyman in the printing house 
 of the American Sunday-school Union, whose 
 poetical effusions, under the signature of T. McK.,
 
 202 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 though as yet little noticed, would not discredit 
 more famous pens.* 
 
 In closing this paper, let me earnestly recom- 
 mend to every inquiring mechanic, a book by 
 Professor Edwards, of Andover, entitled the 
 "Biography of Self-taught Men." 
 
 * I subjoin the shortest piece of this writer's that I can find. 
 THE SYCAMORE BOUGH. 
 
 Upon an ancient sycamore 
 
 A noble bough there grew, 
 And fostered myriads of leaves 
 
 That hid itself from view. 
 When winter came with angry breath, 
 
 The bough was brown and bare ; 
 Gone were the summer-hearted leaves 
 
 That once were nurtured there. 
 
 Thus with vain man. In summer days 
 
 The world around him clings ; 
 It guiles his heart, and o'er his faults 
 
 A leafy mantle flings ; 
 It blinds him, till the bitter day 
 
 Of pain and death comes on, 
 And leaves him, then, to bear his woes 
 
 Unaided and alone. 
 
 Not so the lowly man who walks 
 
 The path that Jesus trod, 
 Who daily learns to die ; whose " life 
 
 Is hid with Christ in God." 
 The world can ne'er between his soul 
 
 And God's love intervene ; 
 In joy or sorrow, life or death, 
 
 His hope is evergreen.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 203 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Clarke Cokmar^- Drew Hill Wild. 
 
 THERE have been few instances, in our day, of 
 more successful perseverance against difficulties, 
 than that of the great commentator, doctor ADAM 
 CLARKE. Though not a mechanic, he had to 
 surmount obstacles as great as those which lie in 
 the path of most working-men. It is known 
 that at the time of his death he took rank among 
 the most learned men of the age ; yet, in 1782, 
 he was a poor Methodist preacher ; and they 
 who are acquainted with the labours of this 
 indefatigable class, know that they have any 
 thing but an easy life. The toils of journeying 
 did not, however, prevent his learning. He had 
 already made some progress in Latin, Greek, and 
 French, but these he was forced to intermit in 
 some degree, having to travel several miles every 
 day, and to preach, on an average, thirty days in 
 each month. That he might not lose the whole 
 time which he was obliged to employ in riding,
 
 204 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 he accustomed himself to read on horseback. In 
 this way he read many volumes. He also began 
 the study of Hebrew, in which he afterwards be- 
 came such a proficient 
 
 In his biographical sketch of himself, he gives 
 some account of another Methodist preacher, 
 named ANPREW COLEMAN, who, though a poor 
 youth, and destitute of the ordinary helps to edu- 
 cation, " attained to such a pitch of mental culti- 
 vation before his seventeenth year, as few have 
 Deen able to acquire in the course of a long 
 life. He became master of the Latin and Greek 
 languages, and made considerable progress in He- 
 brew. To these studies he joined geometry, as- 
 tronomy, chronology, history, and most branches 
 of the mathematics. When he was about four- 
 teen years of age, he had the whole of the Com- 
 mon Prayer by heart. He had made himself such 
 a master of the ^Eneid of Virgil, and the Paradise 
 Lost of Milton, at the same age, that on the men- 
 tion of any line in either of these poems, he 
 could immediately tell the book in which it oc- 
 curs, and the number of the line."* 
 
 At this point, I might adduce the late remark- 
 able metaphysician, SAMUEL DREW. First a poor 
 boy, and then a working shoemaker, he became 
 one of the closest thinkers and most profound 
 Clarke's Life, vol. i. p. 63.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 205 
 
 reasoners of our age. Whatever may be thought 
 of his opinions, no one can fail to admire the 
 talent displayed in his works on the resurrection, 
 the immortality of the soul, and the being and 
 attributes of God. Samuel Drew was born in 
 the parish of St. Austell, in Cornwall, March 
 3, 1765. He was the son of a poor labourer. All 
 he ever learned at any school was his alpnabet. 
 At the age of seven, he was obliged to go to 
 work, his wages being twopence a day. At 
 the age of ten years and a half, he was bound 
 apprentice to a shoemaker, in the parish of St. 
 Blazey. During his apprenticeship he made some 
 progress in reading, chiefly by means of a paper 
 called the Weekly Entertainer. Nothing in this 
 journal, he tells us, so much excited his atten- 
 tion, as the adventures, vicissitudes, and disasters 
 to which the American war gave rise. On set- 
 ting up for himself, as he did near Plymouth, he 
 lost his opportunities of reading, which he did 
 not regain until, after four years, he became, at 
 St. Austell, the foreman of a shoemaker, saddler, 
 and bookbinder, who afterwards removed to 
 America. Here he had various books, and read 
 diligently ; though his knowledge of hard words 
 was so scanty that he had to make perpetual 
 use of a dictionary. Among other books brought 
 to be bound, he had access to Locke's Essay. 
 18
 
 206 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 He had never heard of it before. He read it 
 with admiration, nay, amazement. It opened to 
 him a new world, and made him a metaphysician 
 for life. For several years, all his leisure hours 
 were given to reading ; but he tells us this never 
 interrupted his business. 
 
 Perhaps Drew might never have become an 
 author, if it had not been for an attempt made by 
 a young gentleman to convert him to the opinions 
 of Thomas Paine. The attempt failed, and Drew 
 wrote down his answers to Paine, which, in 
 1799, appeared in a pamphlet, being his first 
 publication. The reviewers praised the work, 
 and the humble author continued to write and 
 publish ; nor did he cease until he had become 
 known to the British public as the writer of 
 several profound works on the most recondite 
 points in philosophy. 
 
 Among these instances of self-instruction," it 
 would be wrong to omit the name of ROBERT 
 HILL. He was born in Hertfordshire, in 1699. 
 At the age of fifteen, he was bound apprentice to 
 a tailor, with whom he remained the usual term. 
 In 1716, he chanced to get hold of broken copies 
 of the Latin grammar and dictionary. He had 
 already acquired the habit of sitting up the 
 greater part of every night at his books, but he 
 uow received a powerful incitement to the study
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 207 
 
 of languages. During a prevalence of the small- 
 pox, which drove him away from his former re- 
 sidence in Buckingham, he kept his uncle's sheep, 
 in which employment he was very happy ; " for," 
 said he, " I could lie under a hedge and read all 
 day long." On his return home, he resumed his 
 Latin, and used to bribe the schoolboys, by small 
 favours, to help him over his difficulties. He 
 would willingly run on an errand, in consi- 
 deration of being taught the meaning of some 
 word which was not in his dictionary. Before 
 he ended his apprenticeship, he had read a 
 good part of Caesar, and of the Latin Testament. 
 The next event was his receiving, as a present, 
 copies of Homer and the Greek Testament. 
 This was enough to start him with a new lan- 
 guage ; accordingly he taught a young gentleman 
 to fish, in return for a Greek grammar, and some 
 instructions. In 1724, he opened a school, which 
 he taught for six or seven years. But, unfortu- 
 nately, at his beginning he had only ciphered " a 
 little way into division," and had, nevertheless, 
 to teach arithmetic. One of his scholars had 
 proceeded as far as decimal fractions. Hill 
 adopted the following plan : he set his pupil, by 
 way of preliminary exercise, to copy a series of 
 tables, which had some apparent relation to the 
 subject of his intended studies. This occupied
 
 208 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 six weeks, during which the poor master often 
 sat up nearly the whole night, in order to get a 
 little in advance of his pupil. A few years after 
 this, he bought a lot of thirteen Hebrew books, 
 for as many shillings, and succeeded in learning 
 this language also. Such were his methods, 
 which need not detain us longer. Hill died in 
 1777. 
 
 Let the working-man who reads this, lay down 
 the book for an instant, and ask himself, how 
 much he might have acquired, if he had possessed 
 the same thirst for knowledge ; nay, how much 
 he might still learn. For the encouragement of 
 diffident minds, let it be noticed, that Hill was by 
 no means what is called a genius. His attain- 
 ments were made by dogged perseverance, such 
 as the apprentice who reads this might use with 
 equal success. He acquired every thing slowly. 
 He said himself that he had been seven years 
 learning Latin, and twice as long learning Greek ; 
 and though he declared that he could teach any 
 person Hebrew in six weeks, he had to struggle 
 alone against very great difficulties. " When I 
 was saying to him," says Spence, his biographer, 
 " that I was afraid his studies must have broke in 
 upon his other business too much ; he said that 
 sometimes they had a little ; but that his usual 
 way had been to sit up very deep into the nights,
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 209 
 
 or else to rise by two or three in the morning, on 
 purpose to get time for reading, without preju- 
 dicing himself in .his trade." He lived to be 
 seventy-eight years old.* 
 
 From the same invaluable book, in the Library 
 of Entertaining Knowledge, which supplied me 
 with several examples, I borrow one more, which 
 shall be my last in this connexion. 
 
 HENRY WILD, of Norfolk, was also a tailor. 
 During seven years of service under his inden- 
 ture, and seven more as a journeyman, he forgot 
 all that he had previously learned at school. A 
 lingering fever laid him aside from his trade, and 
 he amused himself with some theological work, 
 in which he met with Hebrew quotations. This 
 determined him to become a scholar. By hard 
 labour he became able to read Latin, of which 
 he had known something when a child. Then 
 he proceeded to Hebrew, using a lexicon in 
 which the meanings of the words were given in 
 Latin. " While he was thus engaged, his health 
 gradually improved, and he was enabled to return 
 to his business ; but he did not, for all that, 
 neglect his studies. After working all day, his 
 general practice was to sit up reading for a great 
 part of the night, deeming himself far more than 
 
 * Pursuit of Knowledge, vol. i. p. 352 
 18*
 
 210 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 compensated for his labours and privations, by 
 obtaining, even at this sacrifice, a few hours every 
 week for the pursuit he loved : and in this man- 
 ner, within seven years, he had actually made 
 himself master of the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, 
 Chaldee, Syriac, Arabic, and Persian languages. 
 Yet his extraordinary attainments seem not to have 
 been generally known till a fortunate accident 
 introduced him to the notice of Dean Prideaux, 
 a distinguished proficient in oriental learning. 
 Dr. Prideaux soon after exerted himself to raise 
 a small subscription for this poor and meritorious 
 scholar, by which means he was sent to Oxford, 
 not to be entered at the University, but that he 
 might have access to the libraries, and find a 
 more appropriate occupation for his talents, in 
 teaching those oriental tongues with which he 
 had in so wonderful a manner contrived to make 
 himself acquainted." The students gave him 
 the name of the Arabian tailor. 
 
 My readers may never choose to become great 
 linguists ; but the same assiduity will have the 
 same results in any other part of the ample field 
 of knowledge. Nor can I believe that these, my 
 hasty recitals of such facts, can altogether fail to 
 tir up some aspiring minds.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 211 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Encouragement to make a beginning. 
 
 THERE is something pleasant in the anecdote 
 which Boswell relates concerning Dr. Johnson 
 and a boy who rowed him down the Thames. 
 The two friends were conversing upon the use of 
 learning, when Johnson said, " This boy rows 
 us as well without learning, as if he could sing the 
 song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the 
 first sailors." He then called to the boy, " What 
 would you give, my lad, to know about the Ar- 
 gonauts ?" " Sir," said the boy, " I would give 
 what I have." Johnson was much pleased with 
 his answer, and gave him a double fare. Dr. 
 Johnson then turned to his companion and said, 
 " Sir, the desire of knowledge is the natural feel 
 ing of mankind ; and every human being, whose 
 mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all 
 that he has to get knowledge." 
 
 This truth is manifest, and I am persuaded that 
 many thousands of working-men would be en- 
 gaged in the pursuit of knowledge, if it were not
 
 212 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 for their ignorance of the way to set about it, 
 and their magnifying the difficulties of the task. 
 Hence it is that I have gone to what some may 
 think a tedious length in the citation of examples, 
 to show that every sort of obstacle has been sur- 
 mounted, and every sort of attainment made, by 
 men of ordinary talents. In considering the 
 cases which have been detailed, you will find 
 them so various, that the individuals have nothing 
 in common except a determination to learn. 
 Where this exists, the man will succeed; no 
 matter what method he takes. The Greek pro- 
 verb says, Love learning, and you will get learn- 
 ing. Set about it at once at any subject 
 .with any book and you will not fail. Not that 
 I would undervalue regular system. Method is 
 invaluable, and a methodical man will do twice 
 as much in a day as his neighbour, just as a good 
 packer will put twiee as much into a trunk. Yet 
 the most untoward beginnings, if followed up, 
 will end in something. If a man were bent upon 
 clearing a certain forest, it would undoubtedly be 
 best for him to observe some order, and go for- 
 ward in such a way that the trees should not fall 
 over each other, or obstruct his road : yet if he 
 should neglect this, and begin anywhere, and 
 work in any way, provided he continued moving, 
 he could not fail in time to accomplish his work.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 213 
 
 I make this observation for the encouragement of 
 those who are disheartened by the want of any 
 directions, and by ignorance of the way to begin. 
 The ancients tell us that Cato learned Greek in 
 his old age. Let me entreat those who have 
 passed the prime of life without much education 
 not to give up in despair. They may not learn 
 every thing ; but they may learn enough to shed a 
 serene pleasure around their declining days. I 
 have myself had pupils in spelling, who were 
 nearly seventy years of age. A new life is given 
 by education, even to elderly persons, when the 
 imagination and the heart begin to be cultivated, 
 and they learn to extend their views beyond the 
 little circle of visible objects. " In such men," 
 says Dugald Stewart, " what an accession is 
 gained by their most refined pleasures ! What 
 enchantments are added to their most ordinary 
 perceptions ! The mind awakening, as if from a 
 trance to a new existence, becomes habituated to 
 the most interesting aspects of life and of nature : 
 the intellectual eye is ' purged of its film ;' and 
 things, the most familiar and unnoticed, disclose 
 charms invisible before." The same objects and 
 events which were lately beheld with indifference, 
 occupy now all the powers and capacities of the 
 soul the contrast between the present and the 
 past serving only to enhance and endear so un-
 
 214 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 looked-for an acquisition. What Gray has so 
 finely said of the pleasures of vicissitude, con- 
 veys but a faint image of what is experienced by 
 the man who, after having lost in vulgar occupa- 
 tions and vulgar amusements his earliest and most 
 precious years, is thus introduced at last to a new 
 heaven and a new earth : 
 
 The meanest floweret of the vale, 
 The simplest note that swells the gale, 
 The common sun, the air, the skies, 
 To him are opening Paradise." 
 
 Fix in your minds the maxim, that of know- 
 ledge, as of gold, the minutest fragments are 
 valuable. I have often wished that Pope had 
 never penned that much-abused couplet : 
 
 "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, 
 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring." 
 
 It has frightened many an humble pilgrim from 
 the paths of science. The verses contain an im- 
 portant truth, when understood in their connexion 
 as applicable to smatterers in classical literature ; 
 but in their vulgar acceptation they are false and 
 dangerous. There is no sense in which a little 
 knoivledge is more dangerous than a little of any 
 other good thing. Great knowledge is undoubt- 
 edly better ; but even a grain of knowledge is good, 
 so far as it goes. A few moments' reflection will
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 215 
 
 set any man's mind at rest on this point. You are 
 afraid of a "little knowledge :" but, with all your 
 fears, you already possess a little. Do you sup- 
 pose that you are the worse for this ? Has this 
 little proved dangerous ? Small as it is are you 
 willing to lose it ? Not at all. If a little know- 
 ledge is a dangerous thing, (it has been well said,) 
 make it more. 
 
 Where the avidity for information is great, all 
 such apprehensions will vanish. The humblest 
 attainments will have their value, and the learner 
 will be disposed to avail himself of the most 
 trifling accessions to his stock. Take the follow- 
 ing authentic statement, made by one whose early 
 education had been neglected. 
 
 " My boyhood and youth are now over, and, in 
 reviewing my past career, I am sensible of many 
 errors of conduct, and many omissions of the duty 
 which each man owes to himself ; but in advert- 
 ing to the particular period I have mentioned, I 
 am at a loss to perceive how, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, I could better have employed the un- 
 controlled and unguided leisure of my boyhood 
 than I did. During this period, and subsequently, 
 in the intervals of manual occupation, I read with 
 eagerness every printed thing that fell in my way 
 from the placard on the wall, and the torn 
 newspaper gathered from the street, to volumes
 
 216 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 from the shelves of my neighbours and from the 
 nursery-book and the fairy-tale, to the poetry of 
 Milton and the metaphysics of Locke. Thus, in 
 the progress of years, I gathered together a con- 
 siderable quantity of general knowledge, mixed 
 with much rubbish and unprofitable matter. I 
 gathered this knowledge together in solitude and 
 silence, without the cognizance, direction, en- 
 couragement, or control of any living soul. I 
 was even stirred by reading to think and to write 
 for myself ; and I acquired the power of express- 
 ing what I thought or wished to state, just as I 
 now express it to you." 
 
 My great end will have been accomplished, if 
 I can lodge deeply in the reader's mind two con- 
 victions : first, that knowledge is desirable ; 
 secondly, that it is attainable. He who has re- 
 ceived the due impression of these two truths, 
 may be safely left to himself. In my next I shall 
 attempt to give a few useful hints in regard to the 
 pursuit of knowledge.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 217 
 
 XXXVJ 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 
 Hints and Directions. 
 
 LET not the reader expect too much from this 
 title ; for, after all, the grand direction is, TRY 
 TRY TRY. Yet a few general counsels may 
 prove useful to such as are entering upon an 
 untried way. The great object in all pursuit of 
 knowledge is, the formation of habits ; and the 
 earlier one begins to form good habits the better. 
 Therefore, I would address the remarks of the 
 present paper more especially to apprentices and 
 young journeymen ; while, at the same time, 
 they have an application to working-men of any 
 age, who are addicting themselves to study. I 
 will now proceed to offer the following direc- 
 tions. 
 
 1. Begin at once. Do not put off your learn- 
 ing till some better opportunity. The first blow 
 is half the battle. This is eminently true in the 
 matter of study. There is always a difficulty in 
 beginning. It is like the starting of a car on the 
 railway : overcome the first resistance, and the 
 19
 
 218 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 remaining progress is easy. It might take a little 
 time to " get your hand in," but not so long as 
 you suppose. Begin from this very day ; re- 
 solve as you now sit and read these lines that 
 you will commence the work of self-improve- - 
 ment. Take time by the forelock ; or, if you 
 have already lost a good part of your life, ac- 
 knowledge this as a strong reason why you 
 should husband that which remains. If you can 
 only bring yourself to take the first step, there 
 will be a good hope of your continuance. 
 
 2. Learn something every day. If you read 
 only by fits and starts, you will probably lose a 
 great deal in the intervals. It is by slight, but 
 perpetually repeated strokes, that the iron is 
 wrought into shape. Begin every morning with 
 the inquiry, " What can I add to my stock this 
 day ?" In this respect, act with regard to know- 
 ledge, as you are ready enough to do with regard 
 to money. We are all wise about the wealth of 
 the world ; but learning is wealth. I could take 
 all the maxims of frugality, and show how they 
 apply to the accumulation of knowledge. " A 
 pin a day is a groat a year." Consider no day's 
 work as complete, unless you have tried to learn 
 something useful. 
 
 3. Set a value on the smallest morsels of 
 knotuledge. These fragments are the dust of
 
 THE MECHANIC S STUDIES. 219 
 
 diamonds. Of these fragments the mass of learn- 
 ing is composed. " It is true," as Poor Richard 
 says, " there is much to be done, and perhaps 
 you are weak-handed ; but stick to it steadily, 
 and you will see great effects, for constant drop- 
 ping wears away stones ; and by diligence and 
 patience the mouse ate in two the cable ; and 
 little strokes fell great oaks." A man may learn 
 that in two minutes which may be valuable to 
 him all his life. Even if you see no use in the 
 thing learned, do not despise it. Learn all that 
 you can, and you will live to see its value. Never 
 let slip an opportunity of gaining a new idea. 
 And remember that the beginnings, even of the 
 most sublime sciences, are often so simple as to 
 seem worthless. 
 
 4. Redeem time for study. The busiest 
 workman can spare some moments. If you 
 mean to get wisdom, you must learn the value of 
 moments. Great attainments have been made in 
 these little snatches. Whether you work or play, 
 do it in earnest ; but never be unemployed an in- 
 stant. Unstable and indolent people lose much 
 of life in thinking what they shall do next. Al- 
 ways have a book within reach, which you may 
 catch up at your odd minutes. It is incredible, 
 until trial has been made, how much real know- 
 ledge may be acquired in these broken scraps of
 
 220 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 time. Resolve to edge in a little reading every 
 Jay, if it is but a single sentence. The man 
 who pursues this method will infallibly become 
 learned. Take a little time for reading from each 
 end of your night's rest. If you can gain fifteen 
 minutes a day, it will make itself felt at the close 
 of the year. I have sometimes thought that the 
 mind acts with double vigour when forced into 
 these brief periods of application. By degrees, 
 you will learn to save moments from recreation, 
 from idle talk, and even from work. And in the 
 long winter evenings, you will certainly be inex- 
 cusable, if you do not devote an hour or two to 
 your books. 
 
 5. Regulate your thoughts when not at 
 study. A man is thinking even while at work : 
 why may he not be thinking about what is use- 
 ful ? Study is intended to discipline the mind ; let 
 your mind be kept under check and rein, while 
 your hands are employed. Revolve in your 
 mind what you have last been reading. Com- 
 mit useful things to your memory, and turn these 
 over in your thoughts, while you ply the hammer 
 or the wheel. Remember that most of the match- 
 less effusions of Robert Burns were conceived 
 while he was toiling after his plough. More- 
 over, there is such a thing as study without 
 books. Keep your mind in an inquiring mood,
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 221 
 
 and you cannot be in any situation where you 
 may not be learning. 
 
 6. Try to get companions in learning. Every 
 one has felt the pleasure and profit of having a 
 companion in a journey. It is the same thing in 
 the pursuit of knowledge. The way is thus 
 made lighter, and even shorter. If you have no 
 acquaintance who is rightly disposed, seek to in- 
 spire some friend with the desire of knowledge ; 
 you will thus be benefiting another as well as 
 yourself. If possible, however, attach yourself 
 to one who is somewhat in advance of you ; he 
 will be a sort of instructor and guide ; and this 
 will prove a great saving of time and labour. 
 Where two persons are engaged in the same 
 pursuits, they encourage one another, and find a 
 stimulus in the little amicable rivalry which is 
 awakened. Above all, talk with some companion, 
 as often as possible, about the subject of your 
 reading. Conversation about what we study is 
 almost as useful an exercise as the study itself. 
 Not only does each communicate the light which 
 he has gained himself, but new sparks are struck 
 out by the collision of mind with mind. There 
 will be also an exchange of books, and each will 
 alight upon plans and methods which might not 
 have occurred to the other. 
 
 7. Seek the advice and aid of some man of 
 
 19*
 
 222 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 education. This is not indispensable, but highly 
 to be desired. In travelling an intricate road, it is 
 well to be guided by one who has passed it before 
 us. I am sure that half the labour of a lifetime 
 may be saved in this way. There is scarcely 
 any man of real learning who would not take 
 pleasure in lending a helping hand to a beginner. 
 Young mechanics are too diffident in this matter. 
 Any young man who has difficulties in his solitary 
 studies, may feel assured that he will be welcomed 
 oy the true scholar whom he goes to consult. I 
 cannot call to mind an instance in which applica- 
 tions of this kind have failed to give pleasure. 
 You will particularly need advice about the books 
 which you should read. There are elementary, 
 or first books, in every branch of knowledge. If 
 you begin with one of these, much unnecessary 
 trouble will be avoided, and you will have less 
 need of a teacher. Get from your most approved 
 adviser a list of such books as you should from 
 time to time procure. 
 
 8. Lay aside a little money for books. If 
 you love learning, I need not say a word about 
 the value of books. A little economy will enable 
 you soon to have a little collection of your own. 
 When I consider how much is squandered by 
 apprentices upon superfluous dress, trinkets, 
 horses and vehicles, strong drink, tobacco and
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES 223 
 
 cigars, I see at once a fund from which many a 
 little library might be founded. 
 
 9. Be not discouraged by the seeming slow- 
 ness of your progress. All progress in learning 
 is by imperceptible degrees. You cannot see the 
 minute hand of your watch move ; yet it com- 
 pletes its circle eight thousand seven hundred and 
 sixty times every year. Call to mind the steps 
 by which you learned your trade ; in any given 
 week you could discern no advancement. The 
 growth of knowledge is like the growth of the 
 body ; you do not feel yourself growing, but 
 you know that you have grown, by comparison 
 at long intervals. Be of good cheer, delay not. 
 and you will one day thank me for my counsels.
 
 224 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 
 Reading. 
 
 LET no great scholar read this essay. It is 
 meant for those whose education has been neg- 
 ,ected, and who are willing to go back and lay 
 the first stone of the structure. The subject is, 
 the Art of Reading. 
 
 If our system of popular education was what 
 it ought to be, no boy of fourteen would be put 
 out to a trade, without a thorough acquaintance 
 with reading, writing, arithmetic, and plain com- 
 position. If parents and guardians were awake 
 to their duty, the same result would take place. 
 But as matters now stand, it is an undeniable 
 truth, that not more than half our young appren- 
 tices are even good readers. 
 
 Reading is rather an instrument than a part of 
 education. It is the indispensable key. Many 
 are said to know how to read, who still find the 
 greatest difficulty in picking out the sense of a 
 common paragraph in the newspapers. Others 
 can, indeed, spell out the words, but the effort is
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 225 
 
 such as to absorb their whole minds, and to leave 
 them scarcely any ability to catch the train of 
 ideas. Now, it should be laid down as a prin- 
 ciple, that no man is yet a reader, who has not 
 so much facility that he never considers it a task, 
 or finds any more labour in it than in eating his 
 daily food. This is to be gained only by con- 
 stant practice. 
 
 Again, there are persons who take pleasure in 
 the solitary and silent perusal of books, while 
 they are ashamed or afraid to read aloud for the 
 benefit of others. Their pronunciation is bar- 
 barous ; they stammer, and hesitate, and miscall 
 the words ; they have no idea of giving proper 
 expression to what they utter. They are, there- 
 fore, unfit to teach their children, or even to en- 
 tertain their friends. 
 
 The proper remedy for these evils is to be 
 sought in careful and constant practice ; and 
 especially in reading aloud ; which, besides being 
 a useful accomplishment, is highly advantageous 
 to the health, and is recommended by the best 
 physicians, as a preservative of the lungs. All 
 this may be gained without any self-denial, by the 
 custom of reading the papers, or other entertain- 
 ing publications, during the intervals of labour. 
 This is an advantage possessed by mechanics 
 whose operations are sedentary and within doors ;
 
 226 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 and this, I suppose, will go far to account for the 
 fact, that learned men have so frequently pro- 
 ceeded from the shops of tailors and shoemakers. 
 (t would be vain for the bricklayer, the black- 
 smith, or the ship-carpenter, to attempt such an l 
 exercise, amidst the clang of the hammer and the 
 adze ; but the privilege may frequently be en- 
 joyed by the saddler, the painter, and the watch- 
 maker. There is no shop in which there is not 
 occasionally an individual waiting for his work, 
 or otherwise unemployed. In such cases, how 
 much improvement and satisfaction might be de- 
 rived from a wise economy of the odd minutes ! 
 The case of Bloomfield, already mentioned, may 
 be referred to as an illustration. Even the little 
 boys of the family might sometimes be intro- 
 duced for the same purpose. But, as my pre- 
 sent subject is improvement in reading, nothing 
 will be effectually gained, unless the person who 
 feels his deficiency actually practises himself. 
 And here let me earnestly warn every young 
 mechanic against that wretched and ruinous false- 
 shame, which would tempt him to avoid the 
 means of learning, for the sake of concealing his 
 ignorance. However gross your defects may be, 
 do not scruple to make them known : in no other 
 way can they be supplied. You will find it to 
 have been the invariable practice of all who have
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 227 
 
 become eminent, to confess their ignorance, as 
 the first step towards acquisition. Every man is 
 t ignorant of something ; but it is the part of the 
 truly wise to be constantly filling up these vacan- 
 cies, in every practicable way. 
 
 With this principle in view, the apprentice, or 
 the journeyman, or even the master-mechanic, 
 who feels the shame and loss of ignorance, will 
 slight no methods of improvement. If he can- 
 not get the private instruction of some more 
 gifted friend, he will seek the advantages of a 
 night-school, or club with some half dozen of his 
 acquaintances to secure the assistance of a teacher 
 for an hour or two during the week. As I have 
 hinted, there is but a small proportion of our work- 
 ing-men who can be called good readers ; and yet 
 there is, perhaps, no man who, during the course 
 of his life, is not placed in circumstances where 
 the want of this facility is the source of loss or 
 mortification. In public meetings or committees, 
 the routine of ordinary business often demands the 
 reading of papers, and a man must have at least 
 forty years over his head before he can decline the 
 office under the pretext of having forgotten his 
 spectacles. Most of all is this element of educa- 
 tion necessary in training up a family of children. 
 Even if a man can contrive to get through the 
 world without ever reading a pleasant anecdote
 
 228 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 to his wife how is it possible for him to do his 
 part by his children, if he is unable either to in- 
 struct them by books, or to help them in their 
 tasks ? How can he act as the domestic priest and 
 religious head of his household, if he is unfit to 
 read with them a chapter in the Bible, or a family 
 prayer ? I have said little about literal and abso- 
 lute inability to read, because I would really 
 flatter myself that few working-men among us 
 are in this sad condition ; and because such per- 
 sons, by the very supposition, are out of the 
 reach of my essays : but more is needed than what 
 is called reading in our hedge-schools ; and which 
 often partakes more of the qualities of whining, 
 snuffling, and singing, than of human elocution. 
 If then, among the readers of this volume, there 
 should happen to be even one, who, after spell- 
 ing out my meaning, has been made sensible of 
 his neglects, and desirous of redeeming lost time, 
 let me affectionately clap him on the shoulder 
 by way of encouragement : my good fellow, it is 
 never too late to learn ! 
 
 Such is the benignity of Providence, that the 
 things which are most necessary are most acces- 
 sible. Among all human arts, there is none 
 more rich in its fruits than the art of reading ; 
 and there is none more easily acquired. Resolve 
 to make up for lost time ; acknowledge your im-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 229 
 
 perfections ; begin in the right way, and you will 
 assuredly succeed 
 
 Without such facility in reading as may allow 
 the mind to follow without distraction the cur- 
 rent of an author's thought, there can be no real 
 pleasure in the exercise. And where there is no 
 taste for reading, a man's school-learning is of 
 little value. How many are there who have gone 
 to school, and have books in their houses, who 
 yet are making no improvement in knowledge ! 
 If, for form's sake, they open a volume and turn 
 over the leaves, you see by the vacant eye and 
 sleepy countenance that they have no pleasure in 
 it. The task is heavy ; and after a few yawns, 
 and perhaps nods, they lay the book aside, or let 
 it drop, to find more congenial satisfaction in the 
 arm-chair or the pipe. On the other hand, if 
 you read with ease, you will read with pleasure, 
 and will have opened to you the door of uni- 
 versal knowledge. As Edmund Stone said to 
 the Duke of Argyle : " It seems to me that we 
 may know every thing, when we know how to 
 read. Does one need to know any thing more 
 than the twenty-four letters, to learn every thing 
 else that one wishes ?" 
 
 20 
 
 1 '* & l* AJ . . _ ' - . j . ' . . ;
 
 230 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 
 Writing. 
 
 BY working so long under ground, among the 
 rude foundations, I am likely to deter from the 
 perusal of these essays all who think -themselves 
 already well-informed. Such an effect will give 
 me no concern, as I shall be the better able to lay 
 a broad and solid basis for the structure, without 
 the interference of critical or conceited meddlers. 
 My business lies with the working-man, and most 
 of all with him who frankly owns that he knows 
 but little, and would fain know more. My heart 
 warms at even the remote probability that these 
 lines, penned in solitude, and often in weakness 
 and pain, may prove a guiding light to one or two 
 of my industrious fellow-citizens. But lest I wax 
 sentimental, let me proceed to the Art of Wri- 
 ting. 
 
 I now use the term writing in a wide sense, 
 including orthography, or what is commonly 
 called spelling, because our proficiency in this is 
 evinced only in what we write ; and plain com
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 231 
 
 position; but for which the mere manual dex- 
 terity is of little account. 
 
 One might readily suppose that every me- 
 chanic and tradesman would be desirous to write 
 a fair and legible hand. The clergyman, the 
 professor, or the man of wealth, may scrawl 
 the vilest pot-hooks and hieroglyphics, and yet 
 manage to avoid exposure ; but the working-man 
 has his books to keep and his accounts to render. 
 His writing is therefore seen by hundreds ; and 
 we are all very apt to form some notion of a man's 
 neatness and general improvement from the way 
 in which he handles his pen. It is needless to 
 say 'that not one in fifty possesses this accom- 
 plishment. Alas for our common schools ! Alas 
 for the indolence and indifference of our young 
 men ! I will not dwell long on this part of the 
 subject, but I do seriously maintain, that every 
 man who has his complement of fingers, and re- 
 solution to begin at the beginning, and set him- 
 self regular copies, may attain to a decent, clear, 
 and intelligible hand. And, by so doing, many a 
 man might avoid the mortification which has been 
 known to ensue upon the exhibition of a day- 
 book in a court of justice. In order to write 
 well, one must have so far mastered the manual 
 operation as to write with some pleasure. If our 
 schools were what they should be, this matter
 
 232 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 would be secured before boys enter upon their 
 apprenticeship. At present, I dare say there are 
 not a few mechanics who find less trouble in the 
 manufacture of a table or a boat, than in drawing 
 off a fair copy of a bill. 
 
 But suppose the mere handwriting to be unex 
 ceptionable, there is another matter which is quite 
 as important, namely the art of spelling. So far 
 as my observation goes, orthography is never 
 adequately learned without the practice of writing. 
 It is one thing to get by rote endless columns of 
 words in a spelling-book, and another thing to 
 take a pen and write off the same words promptly 
 and accurately. I could show laughable speci- 
 mens from my files of accounts, and I presume 
 every reader can do the like. This evil often be- 
 trays itself in a way somewhat mortifying, when 
 a man rises in the world, and is invested with 
 public office. There is within my knowledge a 
 very worthy personage, a justice of the peace, 
 whose records of evidence are among the rarest 
 curiosities in the collections of the lawyers who 
 have made them laughing-stocks. Some ten or 
 twelve years since, I visited a hall of legislation 
 not a thousand miles from our state capital. The 
 barrier between the dignitaries and their consti- 
 tuents had not then been elevated so as to shut 
 out the pragmatical glances of saucy observers ;
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 233 
 
 and as I leaned over the railing, just behind a 
 portly legislator, my eye undesignedly fell on 
 the engrossed title of a bill, the topmost in the 
 little tape-tied parcel on the assembly-man's 
 desk. He had intended to entitle it " Bill con- 
 cerning Horse-racing postponed," Instead of 
 this, I beheld, in a very legible copyhand, the 
 following words 
 
 BlLL AGAINST HORS RASSING 
 POSPONDED. 
 
 Those who are willing to mend their ways in 
 this particular, should furnish themselves with a 
 good copy of Johnson's or Walker's Dictionary ; 
 they should consult this whenever they are iu 
 doubt ; and they should cherish their doubts, in 
 order to secure themselves against that blindness 
 to their own errors, into which every man is 
 tempted to fall. 
 
 Yet all this is merely instrumental, and in order 
 to something beyond itself. Under writing I in- 
 clude plain composition, but for the sake of 
 which a man might safely be ignorant of pen and 
 ink. Let me distinctly say that I am far from 
 summoning the young mechanic to attempt any 
 thing like authorship, or even elegant composi 
 tion. But it is certainly desirable that every one 
 should have the ability to sit down, and withou 
 20
 
 234 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 hesitation or embarrassment, express with his 
 pen such things as he daily has to express with 
 his voice. He should know how to write a de- 
 cent letter, not merely in a fair hand and correct 
 spelling, but without grammatical blunders or awk- 
 ward construction. Every man who has friends 
 or customers will sometimes need to write a 
 ousiness letter ; and weighty interests may some- 
 times depend on the manner in which this is 
 done. And any man who can pen a creditable 
 letter, without vulgarity or affectation, will be in 
 the same degree able to prepare a resolution at 
 a public meeting, to draft the report of a com- 
 mittee, or to compose a memorial. Where is the 
 American freeman who is not liable to be called to 
 some such service ? This is a branch of educa- 
 tion which should be taught in every common 
 school ; and if it has been neglected, he who is 
 sensible of his defect should spare no pains to 
 repair it.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 235 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Grammar. 
 
 IF there is any one thing which more than all 
 others distinguishes the improved from the unim- 
 proved man, it is the manner in which he uses his 
 mother tongue. Apparel does not form such a 
 distinction, for the richest dress is often the 
 disguise of the simpleton. Big words and lofty 
 periods are so far from designating the man of in- 
 formation, that they are most common with the 
 smatterer and the pedant. But perfectly gram- 
 matical English is the infallible countersign of an 
 educated mind. It is too late to attempt the cure 
 of a bad habit in regard to language, when one 
 has passed his prime ; this subject is therefore 
 important to young men. Your business may 
 prosper ; your wealth may increase ; you may live 
 in splendour, and imitate the manners of the 
 great ; you may even grow purse-proud and scorn 
 your former associates ; but all this will be in vain 
 if you cannot open your lips without breaking
 
 236 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 *' Priscian's head." Your grandeur will be only 
 a costly frame for a show of ignorance. 
 
 It is not by merely committing to memory 
 pages of rules, however excellent, that any one 
 becomes a grammarian. Many persons are able 
 to repeat dozens of rules, which they break even 
 while they are talking of them. The best method 
 of gaining the desired accuracy, is to converse 
 with those who never blunder in their English : 
 thus the children of educated men come to speak 
 correctly, even before they have learned a word 
 of the book. The next best method is to seek 
 with care the discovery of all your common 
 errors. If it were not for false shame the great- 
 est bane of self-instruction this might soon be 
 accomplished. Nothing is necessary but to ask 
 some literary friend to point out to you every case 
 in which you trip. And this will soon prove 
 effectual: for, be it observed, solecisms, or 
 grammatical mistakes, are of such a nature, that 
 if a man makes them at all, he will make them 
 repeatedly. You may be assured, that in three 
 or four conversations of an hour's length, you will 
 be likely to fall into every error of this kind to 
 which you are liable. I have friends who are 
 men of sense and knowledge, but whose sad 
 breaches of grammatical propriety expose them 
 to ridicule. How often have I wished that their
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 237 
 
 feelings would allow me to show them the cases 
 in which they offend ! In a fortnight, I feei per- 
 suaded, they might succeed in freeing themselves 
 from this blemish forever. 
 
 But supposing that only such as have a very 
 strong purpose to excel, and some elevation of 
 mind, will avail themselves of the foregoing hint, 
 I would propose, as an alternative, the use of a 
 good grammar; which, indeed, ought not to be 
 neglected in any case. In the choice of a gram- 
 mar, we should be regulated, not by the transient 
 popularity of some late production, but by the 
 solid judgment of literary men in the mother 
 country as well as in America. We speak the 
 blessed tongue of good old England : may we 
 ever continue to be one in language. The books 
 of worthy Lindley Murray are still unsurpassed, 
 so far as principles are concerned ; and any man 
 will be safe who frames his diction after the 
 guidance of this gentle Anglo-American Quaker. 
 
 It must be observed, however, that the portion 
 of any grammar which is of most value to one 
 who is to be his own instructor, is that which 
 consists of exercises. Here you will find spe- 
 cimens of every sort of error, and in reading them 
 you will descry many an old acquaintance. Care- 
 fully and repeatedly write these off in their cor-
 
 238 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 rect form. There is no surer way of detecting 
 and weeding out your ungrammatical expressions. 
 Examine a list of erroneous phrases, and you will 
 find many such as these, which perhaps have 
 escaped from your own lips in earlier days, viz : 
 " I seen John when he done it." " He plead not 
 guilty." " He writes like I do." " He is con- 
 siderable of a scholar." " I felled him that he 
 drink'd too much." " The carriage or the sleigh 
 were sent." " You hadn't ought to have come," 
 &c. But I am almost ashamed to have inserted 
 even these : in Dr. Bullions' grammar you will find 
 pages of such blunders exposed and corrected. 
 
 There is another class of expressions which 
 oflend, not so exactly against grammar, as against 
 purity and propriety of language. Lists of these 
 have been made out by Pickering and other 
 eminent scholars ; but still they are used by news- 
 paper editors and certain members of congress. 
 For example : " / calculate to leave Boston." 
 " He conducts well." " I expect he was there." 
 " The event transpired, (that is ' occurred,') on 
 Friday." " The bill was predicated on these 
 facts." " An article over the signature of Cato." 
 " James went up on to the ship." " I was raised 
 in Kentucky." " He is an ugly man," mean- 
 ing an ill-tempered man. " He has too much
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 239 
 
 temper; 11 using the word in a bad sense, whereas 
 in sound English it always has a good one. 
 
 There is a single caution which it may be use- 
 ful to add : there is such a thing as overstraining 
 grammar. There are those who make efforts so 
 sirenuous, as to fall over upon the other side. I 
 can scarcely suppose that my reader could so far 
 mistake as to say " Charles and me went to New 
 York ;" yet I have heard even ladies and gentle- 
 men uttering as great a solecism, by saying, " He 
 gave the books to Charles and /." Not quite so 
 bad is the obsolete participle "gotten''' for "got;" 
 a nicety in going backwards which prevails 
 chiefly among elderly ladies. Every one has 
 heard physicians speak of " three spoonsful!," 
 instead of " three spoonfuls ;" though the same 
 persons would scruple to say " three cartsload" 
 for " three cartloads" or " three mouthsfulV 
 for " three mouthfuls" In fact, different ideas 
 are conveyed by the two phrases. So, likewise, 
 a certain class of affected smatterers use this 
 form " The house is being built" In good 
 English there is no such participle as being built 
 in this sense. No example can be found in the 
 British classics. A learned writer judiciously 
 observes : " If the expression is being built be a 
 correct form of the present indicative passive,
 
 240 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 then it must be equally correct to say in the pre- 
 sent-perfect, has been being built; in the past- 
 perfect, had been being built ; and in the present 
 participle being being built" Enough of this. I 
 now close this dry communication, hoping, after 
 one more essay, to recover a more sprightly 
 strain.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 241 
 
 XL. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Arithmetic and Accounts. 
 
 IF there is any part of science which is Indis- 
 pensable to mechanics in common with other 
 men in business, it is that which forms the sub- 
 ject of this paper. Every tradesman is supposed 
 to keep regular accounts, and as his affairs be- 
 come more extended, these become more com- 
 plicated. If we could look into the secret causes 
 of the numerous bankruptcies which occur, we 
 should find a large proportion of them to have 
 their origin in a defect just here. The appren- 
 tice is left to grow up without adequate instruc- 
 tion. He learns his trade, it may be, but he 
 learns nothing more. He becomes a journey- 
 man, and finds here no inducement to supply his 
 deficiencies. In due course of time he sets up 
 for himself, and then discovers, much too late, 
 that there are difficulties and perplexities, even 
 in the most ordinary routine of business, for 
 which he is altogether unprepared. 
 
 Men could be named who have to study an 
 21
 
 242 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 hour before they can foot up the amount of a 
 customer's bill for a few dollars ; and the simplest 
 questions in interest or discount, which have, un- 
 happily, become every-day transactions among 
 us, are to them mysteries altogether past com- 
 prehension. No person can be considered fit for 
 the management of any lucrative and flourishing 
 enterprise, who is not able, whenever it is neces- 
 sary, to arrive at a clear view of his liabilities 
 and resources, a fair balance per contra of his 
 whole affairs. And, for safety and comfort, this 
 is an operation which should frequently take 
 place. Next to a good conscience, it is desirable 
 for every mechanic to have a good leger. Now, 
 if the very sight of his books gives him the hor- 
 rors, and if he would rather work a week than 
 spend half a day over his desk of accounts, it is 
 very plain that he will be likely to neglect this 
 irksome and distasteful business. Consequently, 
 he will scarcely ever know where he stands ; he 
 will put off the evil day of balancing his accounts, 
 until it is forced upon him by some unexpected 
 entanglement; and then, perhaps, he will be 
 astounded at the discovery that he is really 
 worth less than nothing. 
 
 Under the old-time hard-money system, there 
 was less danger of such an issue, and a small 
 tradesman might balance accounts between his
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 243 
 
 right and left breeches-pockets. But the intro- 
 duction of a more remote representative of value 
 than coin, or even bank-notes, has totally changed 
 the situation of the trader. He cannot, by a mere 
 inventory of his stock, or a glance at his strong- 
 box and his bank-book, determine how he stands 
 related to the great system of credit. The only 
 index of this is found in his accounts. It is 
 only in his accounts that he can assure himself 
 that his house and stock are not his neighbour's. 
 And if the said accounts have been suffered to go 
 at sixes and sevens, it is plain that his knowledge 
 of his own condition is no more than a shrewd 
 guess. 
 
 I seriously believe that this is the actual con- 
 dition of more than half the mechanics in the 
 land : and it is an evil daily increasing with the 
 recklessness of our speculations. The poor man 
 drives on through thick and thin. The American 
 motto, Go ahead, is written on his equipage. He 
 flies over plain and valley, till at last, discovering 
 that he is going down hill with perilous speed, 
 he begins to think of putting on the drag, and 
 moderating his rate of travel, when, all at once, 
 he is cast over the precipice and dashed to pieces. 
 
 I have endeavoured to pen all my advices to 
 mechanics, in full view of the remarkable fact, 
 that in America the way is open for the humblest
 
 244 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 working-man, by industry and enterprise, to be- 
 come the head of a large establishment. Our 
 greatest manufacturers are those who began life 
 by hammering at little jobs. But consider, I 
 pray you, how intricate and extensive are the ac- 
 counts of one of these great concerns. Is it pos- 
 sible for a man to conduct such a business with 
 the ordinary amount of knowledge in figures and 
 book-keeping? Can he safely rely on the aids 
 of mere clerks or hired accountants ? It is true 
 that many men, under the strong incitements of 
 expected gain, meet the demands of their circum- 
 stances, and even late in life make themselves 
 thoroughly acquainted with every detail of busi- 
 ness ; and these are the men who become wealthy, 
 and continue so. But there are many more who 
 never comprehend the calculations upon which 
 their very gains are hinged ; and these are the 
 men who fail by scores even in the best of times. 
 Prevention is better than cure : the twig is 
 bent more easily than the tree. Begin to get 
 the mastery of these things in your youth, and 
 you will smooth your way for life. Labour, by 
 constantly repeated practice, at the operations of 
 common arithmetic. Repeat every sort of ex- 
 ample in the four fundamental rules, and in pro- 
 portion, until you not merely understand them, 
 but are prompt and expert in them, and you will
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 245 
 
 find the advantage of it every day that you live. 
 Besides this, take the pains, under some good 
 accountant, to become familiar with book-keeping. 
 The mechanic has to keep his books, as well as 
 the merchant. However small your business, it 
 is best to do it in the right way, for then you will 
 have nothing to unlearn when it becomes large. 
 I believe it will be found that nine men out of 
 every ten go through life with the methods which 
 they adopted at the start. In other words, most 
 mechanics pursue a method of book-keeping in- 
 vented by themselves. This is to reject all the 
 lights derived from the mercantile experience of 
 ages. Scientific book-keeping is a time-saving, 
 labour-saving, and money-saving contrivance ; 
 and you will find a few dollars laid out in ac- 
 quiring it, as little lost as the grain of corn which 
 you drop in the earth. 
 
 Let me close with a single question : At what 
 period of life do our mechanics learn the keep- 
 ing f accounts ? Is it when they are appren- 
 tices ? I have never known a master-workman 
 to give any lessons of this kind. Is it when they 
 are journeymen ? Our journeymen are glad to 
 earn and to spend money, but they keep few ac- 
 counts. No : the little they half learn is taught 
 them by the sad experience of actual business 
 21*
 
 246 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 History. 
 
 THE study of history has commended itself 
 to considerate men of all ages, perhaps more 
 generally than any branch of intellectual pursuit. 
 Holding a middle place between mere entertain- 
 ment and abstruse research, it has allured into its 
 wide and variegated fields the curious and the 
 reflecting of every different walk in life. And 
 this is reasonable and easy of explanation. Often 
 has it been said, till the sentence has grown into 
 a proverb, that " history is philosophy teaching 
 by example." Often have the words of the Ro- 
 man orator been reiterated, that " not to know 
 what happened before one was born, is to be 
 always a child." If our great statesmen could 
 be fairly questioned, it would be found that they 
 have gained more concerning the principles of 
 government from the story of former times, 
 than from all their perusal of abstract treatises. 
 
 The American mechanic is a freeman ; he is 
 one of that people to whom we ascribe sove-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 247 
 
 reignty. If independent in his way of thinking, 
 he must needs be, to a certain extent, a politician. 
 In point of fact, all men, of all vocations, in this 
 country, undertake to talk about the measures of 
 government, and to give some reason for their 
 party-attachments and their votes. Here we 
 find a good argument for the study of history 
 by working-men. 
 
 But to this we must add other signal and 
 acknowledged benefits, which flow from historical 
 reading, whenever and by whomsoever pursued. 
 It enlarges our knowledge of the world, and gives 
 new views of human manners ; it lifts us above 
 the petty circle of our city or our state, and 
 brings us into a felt relation to the great system 
 of events ; it affords a lively commentary on the 
 happy or baneful tendencies of virtue and vice ; 
 and it displays in the most striking manner the 
 wise and wonderful plans of Divine Providence. 
 
 Before the unhappy multiplication of novels 
 and romances, young men sought their chief 
 mental refreshment in historical reading ; and 
 there is cause for believing that by reason of this 
 difference, the rising race is likely to be less ac- 
 quainted with past events than their fathers were. 
 A morbid taste for the excitements of romantic 
 fiction has depraved many a mind, and in some 
 measure placed history nearer than it once stood
 
 248 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 to what are considered severe studies. Never- 
 theless, after having dreamed away golden hours 
 over scores of novels, I am confident in saying, 
 that, in the long run, history is more entertaining 
 than romance. Truth, it has been said, is more 
 interesting than fiction; and the more a man ex- 
 tends his reading, the deeper will be his convic- 
 tion of this truth. Few men could spend a week 
 in reading novels, and nothing else ; but many 
 men spend delightful months upon the annals of 
 great events. It is an unconscious homage to 
 this quality of authentic narrative, that some of 
 our greatest novelists have chosen to interweave 
 the events of true history in their most success- 
 ful romances. 
 
 No patriotic American would willingly confess 
 that he does not feel his soul more stirred by the 
 unvarnished tale of revolutionary conflict, than 
 by the exciting scenes of any fiction whatever ; 
 and the wonderful, unexpected, and rapid changes 
 and convulsions of the French revolution, reach 
 the passions with a mightier influence than all 
 the feigned terrors of the tragic muse. 
 
 As we extend our reading of history, this in- 
 terest, far from decreasing, grows exceedingly in 
 strength ; so that there is no branch of study 
 which so uniformly gains upon the affections of 
 its votaries In the field of romance, the facti-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 249 
 
 tious emotion becomes dull and dies away ; but 
 in historical researches, the studies of our youth 
 continue to be the solace even of our old age. 
 
 It will be suitable for me to add a few sugges- 
 tions as to the method in which history may 
 be advantageously studied ; and these shall be 
 adapted to the case of such as are not surrounded 
 by copious libraries. 
 
 First, Let it be observed, that no man in one 
 lifetime can read all history ; and that it is alto- 
 gether undesirable to attempt any thing like this. 
 Consequently, every thing depends upon wise 
 selection, both as to subjects and authors. All 
 history is not equally valuable to all ; and time 
 may be deplorably wasted over an annalist who 
 is inaccurate, prolix, or obscure. 
 
 Secondly, Method is as important here as any- 
 where. By method in history, I simply mean 
 " beginning at the beginning." Experience as- 
 sures me that half our labour would be saved, if 
 we would cross the stream nearer to its source, 
 or assault the tree nearer to its root. My grand 
 counsel, then, is this : Begin with generals, and 
 from these descend to particulars. Proceed as 
 the draughtsman does ; first sketch a rapid out- 
 line, then fill in the minuter touches, and at 
 length, if time permit, add the more delicate 
 lights and shades. Or, in still plainer terms,
 
 250 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 begin with some very brief and compendious, 
 but clear and masterly view of general history ; 
 such an aid we have in two invaluable and well- 
 known works of Tytler. A good chronological 
 chart would afford an outline still more general. 
 Then proceed to gain a more familiar acquaint- 
 ance, first with ancient, and afterwards with 
 modern history. 
 
 Thirdly ', Beware of the false supposition, that 
 every part of your picture is to be filled up with 
 equal care and minuteness. Where the planta- 
 tion is vast, the wise planter cultivates in well- 
 chosen spots. Be thankful that you are not 
 called upon to know every thing. For example, 
 the history of Carthage is less important than 
 that of Rome ; the former, to most men, only as 
 subsidiary to the latter : the one you will cursorily 
 peruse ; to the other you will repeatedly resort 
 through life. Again, the history of the German 
 States may be adequately learned in an epitome : 
 the history of England and America you will 
 study in some detail. So again, in the case of a 
 single country, you may very soon gain all yoU 
 need about the British Heptarchy ; but you will 
 dwell with assiduity and delight on the annals of 
 tne Reformation, the Civil Wars, and Revolution. 
 And, above all, you will naturally, and with 
 eagerness, peruse almost every book within your
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 251 
 
 reach, upon the subject of our own free institu- 
 tions, and the struggles in which they had their 
 birth. 
 
 Fourthly, With the cautions and provisions 
 given above, after having mastered your outline 
 of general history, you may safely consult your 
 own pleasure, and read wherever you have a 
 mind. When the canvass is once prepared and 
 the great lines chalked out, it matters little 
 whether the painter works upon the head of an 
 Achilles, or the buckle of his armour provided 
 he keeps on working. Never did old Shakspeare 
 speak more pregnant truth than when he said, 
 " No profit grows where is no pleasure taken." 
 What we learn by snatches, in moments when 
 the mind is warm and ductile, is most apt to 
 leave abiding traces. 
 
 Lastly, Be not unduly perplexed with the 
 vain effort to charge your memory with mere 
 dates. One hour over a good chronological table 
 will in this respect do more for you than months 
 of study. Often recur to such a table or chart, 
 and you will soon discover that the great cardinal 
 and leading dates will fix themselves, without a 
 separate endeavour.
 
 252 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Chronology and Geography. 
 
 No man can be said to know any event, unless 
 he knows when it happened and where it hap- 
 pened. The former he learns from chronology, 
 the latter from geography ; and thus it at once 
 appears how truly these two sciences were called 
 by an ancient, " the two eyes of history." 
 
 Chronology is one of those things which is 
 exceedingly dry by itself, and which cannot be 
 got by wholesale. A little familiarity with a 
 chronological chart, table, or atlas, will be suffi- 
 cient to give a general idea of the succession of 
 great periods : particular dates are best learned 
 by actual reference at the time of reading about 
 the event to which they relate. In perusing his- 
 tory, take care to have by you a good collection of 
 dates, and refer to these with regard to every im- 
 portant occurrence.* The more signal epochs 
 
 * Those who have money to spend, may purchase the 
 valuable but expensive works of Blair, Le Sage, or Lavoisne. 
 But I will name two books, which together will cost two 
 dollars, and which contain all that a common reader wiU
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 253 
 
 will fix themselves in your minds without a 
 separate effort ; and it would be a waste of time 
 and a burden on the mind, to set about the task 
 of committing to memory lists of mere figures. 
 It will of course happen, that the most important 
 events will oftenest be referred to : and this re- 
 peated reference to the time of their occurrence 
 will secure your recollection of the date. Thus, 
 I remember that the deluge was about 2348 years 
 before Christ; the Norman conquest, A. D. 1066, 
 the Revolution, 1688 ; the Declaration of Ameri- 
 can Independence, July 4, 1776; and this without 
 having set myself down to learn these as a lesson. 
 By using a few such points of departure, one 
 may, at any time, go a little back or a little for- 
 wards, and fix with sufficient approach to accu- 
 racy, the date of other events in the same period. 
 It is necessary to say something more about 
 the other eye of history that is, Geography as 
 being both more important and far more interest- 
 ing. The man who reads history without geo- 
 graphical information, may be compared to a 
 blind man playing chess. No wonder so many 
 of our reading men have an obscure and con- 
 desire : first, an Historical Atlas, by J. E. Worcester, (con- 
 taining twelve charts ;) second, Chronology, or an Introdu- 
 tion and Index to Universal History, Biography, and Useful 
 Knowledge. New- York, J. Leavitt, 1833, 12mo. 
 22
 
 2*54 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 fused recollection of recorded events, when they 
 hastened through the several narratives without 
 ever discovering in what corner of the earth they 
 took place. On the other hand, when you pre- 
 sent to your imagination the exact scene of great 
 exploits, following your hero on the map from 
 country to country, and from town to town, you 
 not only furnish a new association, as a crutch to 
 memory, but you add life, interest, and reality to 
 the transactions, and remember them more as one 
 who has beheld than as one who has learned by 
 hearsay. 
 
 Our schoolboy recollections of geography are 
 odious. Such has been the absurd method of 
 teaching it, that it is hard for many persons to 
 overcome their disgust, or regard it as deserving 
 the name of a science. The poor child was 
 made to take an unintelligible book, full of tech- 
 nical terms, and, with little or no aid of map or 
 globe, to get this by heart. Odd as this may 
 seem to such of my young readers as live under 
 a better dispensation, this is the way in which 
 many of our old-fashioned hedge-schoolmasters 
 used to teach geography. And the man who 
 has learned it in no other way knows nothing 
 about it. 
 
 In directing the mechanic how to acquire 
 geographical information, perhaps my simplest
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 255 
 
 method will be to ask how one should endeavour 
 to give this same information to a child or very 
 ignorant person. It would be the best and 
 shortest way, if it were practicable, to take the 
 pupil some thousands of miles above our earth, 
 and there to show him the countries and the seas, 
 as the planet revolves upon its axis. But as it 
 may be long before science can afford us such a 
 facility, the next best course is to show the pupil 
 the same thing in an humble imitation. Let Jie 
 very first conceptions of geography be derived 
 from the terrestrial globe. Here you will learn 
 in such a manner that you need not unlearn ; 
 whereas there is a never-failing confusion in the 
 mind which, after having conceived of the earth 
 as depicted on a plane surface, vainly endeavours 
 in after years to correct this false impression, and 
 to imagine this parallelogram transmuted into a 
 sphere. What I said of history I now say of 
 geography: Begin with generals, and from 
 these, descend to specifications and particulars. 
 Gain a comprehensive view, first of the grand 
 divisions of the globe, and then of the principal 
 countries ; and do this from inspection of a 
 globe, or, where this is wanting, of a good map ; 
 and, in the first instance, with little or no refer- 
 ence to the artificial lines of latitude and longi-
 
 256 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 tude, or the numerical dimensions. You may 
 proceed to fill up this outline from time to time. 
 
 It is impossible to recommend too strongly the 
 practice of actually drawing rough maps. By 
 this I do not mean copying from a map, but 
 drafting from memory the outlines of any region 
 which you may be studying. There is no other 
 absolute test of accurate knowledge. Compare 
 this with a correct map, and you will at a 
 glance see where you are in error. Even those 
 who have no experience in drawing may do this ; 
 and no instruments are needed but a slate or a 
 black-board. 
 
 Still it must be remembered, that in a subject 
 so boundless as this, we must expect to be 
 learners all our life. The true maxim is a little 
 at a time, and often repeated. The grand secret 
 for making a geographer is perpetual reference. 
 When you read history or travels, never be with- 
 out your map ; and never pass any important 
 name without seeking it out: the search will 
 make you acquainted with many particulars be- 
 sides that of which you are in quest, and the 
 necessity for such reference will become less 
 and less every day you live. If, on the other 
 hand, you endeavour to store your mind with 
 many geographical items at once, from lists of
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 257 
 
 uncouth names, without any interesting associa- 
 tions, you will be wearied and disgusted ; one 
 thing will jostle out another ; and you will in- 
 fallibly forget nine out of every ten. You must 
 learn the situation and distances of places, just 
 as a young salesman learns the prices of articles 
 in a great assortment : not all at once, but as they 
 come to hand. I would not forbid the perusal 
 of geographical books ; indeed, it is from these 
 only that you can derive the facts of statistical 
 and political geography ; but the great matter is 
 to know where the spot is, and this can be gained 
 only from the map or globe. 
 
 The geography of our own extensive and 
 growing country is of unspeakable importance 
 to men in every line of business ; ignorance 
 here is really disgraceful. You will not, there- 
 fore, grudge the expense of a complete Ameri- 
 can Atlas ; and after the labours of our dis- 
 tinguished countryman, Tanner, you need not be 
 at a loss where to look. 
 
 Many persons are in the habit of denominating 
 geography a dry study. When pursued after the 
 ordinary method, it is such indeed ; but when 
 learned in connexion with interesting narrative 
 and eventful travel, it becomes truly fascinating. 
 This is so much the case, that to a man of va- 
 22*
 
 258 THK AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ried knowledge and lively imagination, there is 
 scarcely any visible object which awakens more 
 pleasing associations than a satisfactory map. 
 The lines and points of the engraving are con- 
 nected in his mind with a thousand stirring 
 events, and the motley sheet spreads itself into 
 a picture, variegated and enlivened with the 
 achievements of ancient and modern story. 
 Make but a fair trial, and you will arrive at the 
 agreeable discovery, here as elsewhere, that all 
 knowledge is sweet, and that within a prickly 
 husk and a hard shell there lies a delicious 
 kernel.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 259 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 
 Natural Philosophy and Chemistry. 
 
 THE man who lives in such a world of wonders 
 as that which we inhabit, and in an age teeming 
 with discoveries and inventions, especially if he 
 is one who is daily called to the performance oi 
 those experiments which we call working at a 
 trade, must be singularly incurious, if he can fail to 
 inquire into the properties of matter, the relations 
 of different substances, and the laws of motion 
 and rest. All this is nothing else than physics, 
 or natural philosophy. Of this, every man, 
 whether he tries or not, knows something, and no 
 man knows every thing. Here it is that we get 
 into the regions of actual observation and experi- 
 ment ; which are always delightful to the inqui- 
 sitive mind. Even without books, and without a 
 teacher, many a man, like Franklin or Ferguson, 
 has arrived at valuable discoveries by mere ex- 
 amination and random attempts. But it is a great 
 advantage to begin with principles, to learn the 
 laws which regulate all the changes in nature, and
 
 260 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 to master in a brief and comprehensive manner, 
 the discoveries of past ages. To make use of 
 these scientific systems, is to avail ourselves of 
 the ladder prepared to our hand, instead of try- 
 ing to scale the almost impracticable crag by 
 hands and feet alone. 
 
 The very name mechanics ought to have a 
 charm for working-men. How is it possible for 
 them to ply their tools, or even use their balance, 
 without asking to know something about the laws 
 of motion ? Especially, how can they continue 
 supine and blind, when they are told that the 
 same great fundamental law brings the steel-yard 
 to a poise, and whirls the planets in their orbits ? 
 The use of a common crow-bar brings into play 
 the doctrine of the lever ; the same is true of the 
 sledge, forceps, and windlass-bar. But it is need- 
 less to particularize, where every thing is an illus- 
 tration. No mechanic can apply himself to any 
 act of his trade without exemplifying the laws of 
 motion ; and if men engaged in labour would but 
 keep in mind those doctrines respecting forces 
 which relate to the processes in which they are 
 necessarily engaged, they would soon and plea- 
 santly arrive at a competent knowledge of me- 
 chanics. 
 
 The direct and immediate value of natural phi- 
 losophy, to those employed in mechanical labour,
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 261 
 
 la so obvious as almost to forbid further remark. 
 In a great number of trades, the workman is ac- 
 tually engaged in making machines. The worth 
 of these is precisely measured by their confor- 
 mity to philosophical laws. Unless then the 
 workman knows something about these laws, he 
 must be a mere copyist, or at best a random ex- 
 perimenter. Any wheelwright or carriage-maker 
 may indeed imitate a given model, and construct 
 one vehicle exactly like another ; but it is only 
 the artificer who has studied principles, or gained 
 some science, that can arrive at inventions, and 
 suit his structure to emergencies, and meet the 
 condition of new roads, new modes of draught, 
 and peculiar dangers. The common builder needs 
 an accurate acquaintance with all the topics con- 
 cerning strength of materials, lateral pressure, the 
 combination of forces at angular junctures, and 
 the strain and support of arches. The clock or 
 watch-maker, if more than a mere tinker, must 
 add a little mathematics, and calculate the effects 
 of complicated wheel-work, and the transmission 
 of motion. The millwright and machinist must 
 not be content to make his shafts and cogs and 
 pinions, or to copy the gearing of those who lived 
 before he was born ; but he must know how and 
 why all these changes are effected, and what 
 alterations are rendered necessary by a change of
 
 262 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 circumstances. The business of block-making, 
 viewed in its principles, is almost a science by 
 itself, involving whatever relates to pulleys, fixed 
 and movable, the friction of cords, the operation 
 of wheels, shafts, and rollers. 
 
 In every large factory, the mind of the in- 
 quiring lad will be attracted by the daily sight of 
 the fly-wheel or the governor, to examine into 
 the causes of unsteady motion, and the means of 
 remedying it ; the interference of power and re- 
 sistance, where one is constant and the other vari- 
 able ; and the doctrine of virtual velocities ; all 
 which he will find to his heart's content, in the 
 simplest treatise on mechanics. In every sort of 
 employment which concerns damps, currents, 
 aqueducts, pipes, pumps, or water in general, 
 nothing can be done intelligently without some 
 insight into hydrostatics and hydraulics. As to 
 those numerous and important trades where the 
 application of fire takes place in conducting pro- 
 cesses, the philosophy of heat will render the 
 most valuable aids : such is the case in all that 
 concern the manufacture of metals and glass. 
 And indeed there is scarcely a branch of human 
 labour, even in those pursuits which seem farthest 
 removed from scientific research, where we do 
 not observe the direct increase of power derived 
 from philosophical information.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 263 
 
 But leaving out of view the mere profit of such 
 knowledge, natural philosophy recommends it- 
 self to working-men as a cheap and accessible 
 source of endless entertainment. No department 
 of study affords such ample variety, and none 
 awakens more enthusiasm. When we read the 
 lives of great self-taught discoverers and invent- 
 ers, we find that it was while in chase of amuse- 
 ment that they alighted on their highest attain- 
 ments ; zeal for the pursuit itself conducted them 
 to their greatest gains. Consider the fervid per- 
 severance of Ferguson and Franklin. Call to 
 mind the barber's boy, Richard Jlrkwright, 
 whose name is now associated with the bound- 
 less ramifications of the cotton manufacture. He 
 began, it should seem, by amusing himself about 
 the chimera of the perpetual motion ; he next 
 sought recreation in the shop of a clock-maker ; 
 he then entertained himself with constructing 
 spinning-machines ; he ended by becoming the 
 acknowledged founder of a new fabric of national 
 industry, at this time second to no other in the 
 British empire. It was the entertaining character 
 of mechanical experiment which beguiled the 
 tedium of the way, and conducted Sir Richard 
 Arkwright to wealth and honour. There is no 
 part of science which recommends itself so strong- 
 ly to mechanics of every sort, as natural philoso-
 
 264 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 phy. Nearly allied to their daily pursuits, it 
 offers a delightful refuge from the wearings of the 
 burdened hours, and casts an elevating influence 
 over the severest or dullest toil. 
 
 Mechanics of the more active classes enjoy one 
 signal advantage over other men, in prosecuting 
 the study of natural philosophy. Let me ask 
 special attention to this remark. Their common 
 employments make it easy for them to institute 
 experiments, because, from their possession of 
 materials, and their dexterity with tools, they are 
 able, at once, to construct every kind of appa- 
 ratus. The student at college, or even the pro- 
 fessor, desires (we shall suppose) to put together 
 a series of lenses or tooth-wheels, or to erect the 
 model of some mill or other engine. This is ne- 
 cessary for his experiments. But he is a bungler 
 at mechanical labour, and could scarcely build a 
 decent wren-box : the carpenter, the joiner, the 
 smith, the wheelwright, the turner, the watch- 
 maker, on the contrary, can knock up such a con- 
 trivance in a few hours, without even thinking of 
 it as a task. The same observation applies to 
 chemical inquiries. There is no active mechanic, 
 (of those strictly so called,) who might not with 
 his own hands, with little expense, fit up in a 
 shed or garret, a laboratory with apparatus suffi- 
 cient for all the leading experiments in physics
 
 THE MECHANIC'S STUDIES. 265 
 
 and chemistry. And if two or three, of different 
 trades, would combine, this might be accomplisn- 
 rd with completeness and elegance. Will not 
 some half dozen of my young mechanical readers 
 take the hint ? 
 
 All that has been said about natural philosophy 
 is equally true, with a trifling change of terms, 
 in relation to chemistry. This science regards 
 not the general, but the particular properties of 
 bodies ; with respect to their mixture with one 
 another, mutual influence, temperature, weight, 
 and minor peculiarities. The truths of chemistry 
 are involved in every operation of the painter, the 
 dyer, the tanner, the druggist, the distiller, the 
 baker, the confectioner, and in innumerable others 
 Indeed there is no trade, not even that of the 
 tailor or the shoemaker, in which chemistry does 
 not play a part. Its revelations are at once charm- 
 ing and stupendous, and the science is in its full 
 career of discovery at this moment. The great 
 majority of experiments in chemistry may be per- 
 formed with apparatus which any joiner is com- 
 petent to put together. With such inducements, 
 it is really wonderful that young working-men are 
 not more generally attached to this subject. The 
 young apothecary, Humphrey Davy, began his 
 brilliant course with perhaps as little external in- 
 23
 
 266 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 dication of success as that which is offered to the 
 humblest reader of these lines. 
 
 In regard to the studies of working-men, I was 
 recently much instructed by some hints from one 
 of the most distinguished natural philosophers of 
 our country. He gave it as the result of his ob- 
 servation, that self-taught and aspiring mechanics 
 often fail from the neglect of a single caution. 
 The caution is simply this, that they should not 
 attempt premature discoveries or inventions in 
 general science, or in departments remote from 
 their own trades, but should sedulously cultivate 
 such branches of science as facilitate their parti- 
 cular handicraft. Very important discoveries have 
 been made by mechanics, but these have not been 
 so much in general science as in the proper field 
 of the discoverer's own pursuit. By a wise ap- 
 plication of philosophy, the artisan may alight 
 upon valuable and labour-saving processes in his 
 own business. On the other hand, some work- 
 ing-men have exposed themselves to ridicule or 
 commiseration, by vaunting as discoveries those 
 things which are absurd, exploded, or long since 
 recorded in scientific works. 
 
 With these remarks, I earnestly recommend to 
 mechanics that source of enjoyment which they 
 will find in the natural sciences.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S LIBRARY 267 
 
 XLIV. 
 THE MECHANIC'S LIBRARY. 
 
 ALMOST every mechanic who can read at all, 
 has some books ; in other words, possesses a 
 library. In going from house to house, I have 
 frequently amused myself with taking a brief 
 inventory of these little collections. In many 
 houses, pretty well furnished as to other things, 
 one will find on a shelf, sideboard, or mantel, 
 some such collection as the following : The Al- 
 manac, The New and Complete Dream-Book, 
 The Universal Songster, Life of George Bur- 
 rowes, Gray's Complete Farrier, half a spelling- 
 book, and a dusty, incomplete New Testament, 
 together with a dozen worn-out and odd volumes 
 of other works. 
 
 When there are two ways of doing a thing, 
 and the right way is as cheap and easy as the 
 wrong, why should men be left to go astray ? 
 Let me get the attention of the apprentice or 
 young tradesman on this point. I can, perhaps, 
 save him much expense, and the still greater evil 
 of having a worthless article. He will, perhaps,
 
 268 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 6e ready to complain that books are dear, that he 
 is poor, and that many books only confuse him. 
 Observe, therefore, I do not recommend many 
 books, nor costly books, nor a number at once. 
 All I want is, that you should lay out wisely the 
 very sum, or a mere trifle above the sum, which 
 you would otherwise lay out foolishly. Pray be 
 not too proud to learn of one who has already 
 made mistakes, and got a little experience. 
 
 One great mistake of young working-men in 
 the purchase of their books is, that they get them 
 by chance. They take no advice, and use no 
 foresight. The book they buy is not so much the 
 one they need, as the one that offers at the stall, 
 auction, or pedler's basket. Another mistake is, 
 the purchase of certain books merely because 
 they are low-priced. This is an error which you 
 would laugh at in a schoolboy, if he were buy- 
 ing wares in your shop : take care lest he have 
 cause to laugh at you in return. The cheap 
 books are in the long run far the dearest. They 
 are usually on poor paper, in poor type, and poor 
 binding, and too often are but poor stuff through 
 and through. Instead of following mere hazard, 
 lay it down as your maxim, to know beforehand 
 what particular books you need, and to buy just 
 these in preference to any others. What should 
 you think of a carpenter who should purchase
 
 \ 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S LIBRARY. 269 
 
 any tool or material which he might fall in with, 
 while the indispensable utensils and staple articles 
 of his bench were wanting ? Books are to the 
 reading man both tools and material. If you say 
 that you cannot indulge in many, I reply, very 
 true, and, for that very reason, see to it that they 
 be the best. In order to prevent error, proceed 
 as you would do if you were purchasing some 
 new material with which you had not been very 
 familiar. You are, I will suppose, a coach-maker 
 in the country. You are desirous of introducing 
 a variety of gum-elastic fabric for tops, which 
 you have never used yourself. When you go to 
 New-York, or Philadelphia, or Boston, for your 
 materials, you naturally walk round to the manu- 
 factory of Messrs. A, or B, and make inquiries, 
 and, perhaps, ask the aid of their more practised 
 eye in choosing. Do the same in the book-line. 
 Seek the advice of some bookish man ; and how- 
 ever little he may know about your business, trust 
 him in his own. 
 
 Another mistake of young book-buyers is, the 
 supposition that they must fill their book-shelf 
 at one stroke. He who does this will almost 
 always buy some trash. It takes time to read 
 books ; it take time to find out what books to 
 read. Lay aside a certain portion of earnings 
 for books ; let it be sacredly set apart for this 
 23*
 
 X 
 
 270 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 object. Next keep a list of such books as you 
 think you need : examine this from time to time ; 
 add to it and take from it. Then seek good 
 advice of a friend, as to the best place to buy 
 the book you most need, the best edition for your 
 purpose, and the fair price. I have bought and 
 sold books, and have seen many buy and sell 
 them, and I am convinced that working-men lose 
 a greater proportion of what they lay out on 
 cheap books than of any other disbursement 
 they make. 
 
 Perhaps there are readers of these counsels, 
 who are ready to ask for a list of books proper 
 to constitute a mechanic's library. There are 
 people, perhaps, who would freely draught you 
 such a catalogue at a sitting : but it is a respon- 
 sibility which I dare not assume. To make out 
 such a list for every one, would be almost as 
 quack-like as to prescribe the same pills for every 
 disease. I know what would suit me, and what 
 would suit this or that neighbour ; but to recom- 
 mend for any given individual, one should know 
 his age, his temper, his talents, his tastes, his ac- 
 quirements, and even his trade. I prefer, there- 
 fore, the method of naming a few books and 
 classes of books, which may be got from time to 
 time with advantage, adding some running com- 
 ments.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S LIBRARY. 271 
 
 The Bible should stand first in every list : not 
 a heavy, square volume, on the parlour table, too 
 pretty to use, too heavy to carry, and chiefly 
 valuable as a register of the births and deaths ; 
 but a real book for use, of large print, and solid 
 materials. But I have spoken elsewhere of this. 
 A good English dictionary, of large size, is in- 
 dispensable. Wiser men may do without this ; 
 but there is scarcely a day in which I do not look 
 for the meaning of some word. And until I see 
 a better, I shall use Walker's Critical Pronounc- 
 ing Dictionary. The laws of your State, and 
 the necessary forms of common legal processes, 
 and the Constitution of the United States, should 
 be in your shelves. Bayard on the Constitution 
 of the United States is an admirable little book. 
 In your own particular trade, you should have 
 one or two of the best treatises. 
 
 For pleasant historical reading, all your life 
 long, you cannot go amiss among such works 
 as these, viz : Tytler's Universal History, Jo- 
 sephus, Plutarch's Lives, Goldsmith's England, 
 Sir Walter Scott's little histories of France and 
 Scotland, Ramsay's History of the American Re- 
 volution. To these may be added some history 
 of the church, and good biographies of Penn, 
 Washington, and Franklin.
 
 272 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 For poetry, which is quite as necessary and 
 as lovely as prose, buy Milton, Pope, Young, 
 Thomson, Cowper, Campbell, Bloomfield, Mont- 
 gomery, Hemans, and Wordsworth ; and take 
 care to procure large, fair copies, in good condi- 
 tion, even if they cost you twice as much. A 
 poem is a piece of furniture for life, and you will 
 wish to take it on jaunts with you, to read it 
 out of doors, and to refresh yourself with it in 
 old age. 
 
 The publications of the Society in England for 
 the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, so far as I can 
 judge, are the best and the cheapest books for 
 working-men that the world has ever seen. Their 
 ' Library of Useful Knowledge" gives you the 
 whole round of science ; and you may get any par- 
 ticular part by itself. Their " Library of Enter- 
 taining Knowledge" is a most instructive as well 
 as most amusing series. Their " Penny Cyclo- 
 pedia," and especially their " Penny Magazine," 
 are incomparable family books. I hope nothing 
 may ever occur to change my opinion, as at pre- 
 sent I regard the mere pictures of these works 
 as fully worth the whole cost, and cordially re- 
 commend them to the shelves of every mechanic. 
 With the exception of moral and religious read- 
 ing, and purely American subjects, there is
 
 THE MECHANIC'S LIBRARY. 273 
 
 scarcely any topic excluded from these work?. 
 In religion, it is scarcely necessary to name the 
 following works, which Christians of almost 
 every persuasion have approved : The Imitation 
 of Christ, by Thomas a Kempis ; Bunyan's Pil- 
 grim's Progress, Baxter's Saint's Rest, Mason 
 on Self-Knowledge, and Watts on the Improve- 
 ment of the Mind, which is as good in directing 
 the morals as the studies of the youthful reader. 
 I cannot dwell on books of mere entertainment. 
 Biography, and voyages and travels, have worn 
 the best with me. 
 
 Let me close these desultory hints by declar- 
 ing my belief, that, for the youth and children of 
 a family, it would not be possible to lay out the 
 sum of thirty-three dollars to greater advantage, 
 than by purchasing the Library prepared and for 
 sale by the American Sunday-school Union. It 
 contains one hundred and twenty-one volumes. 
 These are uniformly bound, and all ready for use, 
 in a neat and convenient book-case, which forms 
 a striking ornament in the houses of many 
 economical book-buyers. The reader needs only 
 to see it to be convinced. 
 
 In all that precedes, I have written with refer- 
 ence to young men just entering on a course of 
 improvement, and somewhat straitened in their
 
 274 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 means. More learned and more wealthy persons 
 will smile at the simplicity and scantiness of my 
 recommendations ; but even- these books, well 
 pondered, and often re-perused, may lay the 
 foundation of great and accurate erudition.
 
 THE STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 275 
 
 XLV. 
 
 THE STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 IT will be readily believed by my readers, 
 that I am not disposed to undervalue any kind 
 of real knowledge, or any description of books. 
 Much of my labour has been intended to awaken 
 in the apprentice and the journeyman a desire for 
 varied information. I have recommended philo- 
 sophy ; I have recommended history ; I have re- 
 commended books of entertainment. For this 
 reason I trust I shall be credited, when I further 
 say, that there is no philosophy, no history, no 
 entertainment, equal to that of the Bible. This 
 is not only my own opinion, after reading for 
 many years, and in several languages, but it is 
 the deliberate opinion of many of the greatest 
 scholars and wisest philosophers that ever lived. 
 
 Some forty or fifty years ago, another senti- 
 ment prevailed among many people. It became 
 fashionable to ridicule the Scriptures, to represent 
 them as exploded old-wives'-fables. This was 
 chiefly owing to the spread of French opinions, 
 which gained ground among us in consequence
 
 276 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 of our sympathy with an oppressed people, who 
 were supposed to be in search of rational liberty. 
 The writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Volney, and 
 Paine propagated these ignorant, false, and mali- 
 cious objections against the Bible, and long after 
 the atheism and bloodshed of the French revolu- 
 tion revealed the true tendency of these opinions, 
 there were some even among our leading politi- 
 cians, who upheld and preached them. 
 
 The case is happily altered. Here and there 
 we may meet with some gray-headed and perhaps 
 doting old man, who, parrot-like, rehearses the 
 absurd chimeras of Volney, or the ribaldry of 
 Paine ; or some young mechanic, who, despair- 
 ing of any virtuous notoriety, tries to distinguish 
 himself by railing at religion. But these cases 
 are rare. Deism and atheism are no longer the 
 mode, even among wicked men. 
 
 It is undoubtedly true, that we occasionally find 
 in our cities an infidel club, or an infidel book- 
 shop. If the reader will take the pains to observe 
 these closely for a series of months, he will find 
 the following statements to be true. First, these 
 clubs are composed of men who have little stake 
 in society, and little permanent interest in the 
 place where they live, being sometimes foreigners, 
 often strangers or new-comers, and always per- 
 sons of low character and bad habits. Secondly,
 
 THE STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 277 
 
 the members of these associations, and the keep- 
 ers of these shops, it will be observed, change 
 very often. You will not see many of the same 
 faces where you saw them a twelvemonth ago. 
 They are short-lived lights, like those of brim- 
 stone matches. Thirdly, if you trace these people 
 to their homes, you will find them discontented 
 and wretched, and you will learn that they almost 
 invariably come to some bad end. 
 
 Let the Holy Scriptures have more of your 
 time than all other books. It is the oldest book 
 in the world : surely you would like to know 
 what is recorded of the early ages of our race. 
 It is the most entertaining book in the world. 
 Ever, Voltaire confessed that there was nothi ig 
 equal for pathos to the story of Joseph. Of like 
 interest are the histories of Abraham, of David, 
 and especially of our Lord Jesus Christ. The 
 Bible is the book of greatest wisdom ; even if by the 
 term be understood worldly-prudence. It is the 
 only book which gives us any certain knowledge 
 of the future. Is it possible for a man to be so 
 sunk in sensuality, or so brutalized, as riot to care 
 to know what shall happen to his immortal part 
 after death ? The Bible will give you this know- 
 ledge. Moreover, it is the only work which can 
 authoritatively teach you how to escape the punish- 
 24
 
 278 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ment of sin, and how to attain the perfection of 
 your nature. 
 
 Take pains to have in your possession a good 
 copy of the whole Bible, in a fair large type, and 
 in a convenient form. I lay stress on these last , 
 particulars, because many people, for the sake of 
 saving a few shillings, purchase Bibles of cheap 
 and inferior execution. If the book is unwieldy, 
 you will seldom open it : if it is in small print, 
 you will instinctively avoid it, when the light 
 is imperfect, or when your eyesight fails. The 
 best and cheapest editions are in large octavo, and 
 are published by the American Bible Society, and 
 also by the Friends' Bible Association. At the 
 same time, every one should have a Bible suffi- 
 ciently portable to be carried on journeys ; and 
 every member of a family should possess his 
 own. 
 
 The following rules may be useful in the study 
 of the Scriptures : 
 
 1. Read the Bible as the word of God. 
 Never forget whence it comes. Endeavour to 
 feel that it is a message from heaven, and that 
 your Creator is speaking to you. And, as you 
 read, implore the help of its divine Author, to 
 open your understanding, and keep you from 
 error.
 
 THE STUDY OP THE BIBLE. 
 
 2. Read the Bible diligently; attentively; 
 with faith and obedience. Perhaps you read the 
 Scriptures. But in what way? Much depends 
 on this. Some people read them more careless- 
 ly and with less pleasure than the morning's 
 paper. 
 
 3. Read the Bible every day. However much 
 pressed you may be for time, you may snatch 
 from sleep or labour time enough for a chapter in 
 the Old and a chapter in the New Testament. 
 
 4. Read the Bible in regular course. By 
 doing this, you will not be in danger of remain- 
 ing entirely ignorant of certain parts. The por- 
 tions skipped by people who open anywhere and 
 read at random, are often the most important 
 parts. 
 
 5. Employ every means within your reach to 
 get the true and full meaning of what you read. 
 If you have learned and wise and religious friends, 
 ask their aid. If you have a good commentary, 
 make occasional use of it ; if you have not, lay 
 aside a few cents a week until you get one. 
 Especially use the Bible itself as a commentary ; 
 make one place explain another. The Jews have 
 a saying, that there is no obscure text in the 
 Bible which has not some light thrown on it from 
 some other text. In order to get this light, take 
 care to have a Bible with the marginal notes and
 
 280 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 references, which were made by the transla- 
 tors. 
 
 6. Make the Bible your study for life. The 
 ancient Romans used to say, proverbially, " Be- 
 ware of a man of one book :" that is, such a man 
 will be too wise for you. The meaning was, 
 that the perpetual re-perusal and meditation of a 
 single work gave a special exercise and vigour 
 to the human powers. This is true of the one 
 book I am commending. I am persuaded, that 
 if a man in trade were to read every day in 
 every month one of the thirty-one chapters into 
 which the Book of Proverbs is divided, he would 
 never find one day in which some saying of the 
 wisest of kings would not prove useful to him, 
 even in his worldly business.* 
 
 * The reader is informed that several thoughts in this 
 essay will be found more fully explained and illustrated, in 
 a cheap little volume, published in Philadelphia, under the 
 title, THE SCRIPTURE GUIDE ; a familiar introduction to the 
 study of the Bible.
 
 THE MECHANIC'S RELIGION. 281 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S RELIGION. 
 
 So large a part of the American nation is made 
 up of mechanics, that the opinions, feelings, and 
 lives of this one class will give character to the 
 whole people of the land. If our working-men 
 are virtuous and religious, we shall be a happy 
 country. I have taken some pains, in the pre- 
 ceding essays, to set before my friends of the 
 labouring classes, the unspeakable value of sound 
 education. I now have to add a qualifying re- 
 mark of very great importance. Mere know- 
 ledge, without morality, will never make a nation 
 prosperous. Science and literature may be pos- 
 sessed, and have been possessed, by some of the 
 worst men that ever lived. Knowledge is power; 
 but in the hands of the wicked it is power to 
 do evil. We may multiply books, and multiply 
 schools, and pass laws for education, until there 
 shall not be an uninstructed child in all the land ; 
 but unless we also provide for the moral culture 
 of the rising race, these means will be the instru- 
 ments of our destruction. The horrors of the 
 24*
 
 282 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 French revolution, which have put back the 
 course of free principles a hundred years, took 
 place in no rude or ignorant corner of the earth ; 
 and some of the incarnate demons who presided 
 at the guillotine and the drownings, were among 
 the most intelligent and learned of their day. No, 
 let the truth sink deeply, education to be a bless- 
 ing, must be education for the future for the im- 
 mortal state for eternity. 
 
 To leave generals, and come down to indivi- 
 dual cases, the American mechanic should be a 
 virtuous, upright, and benevolent man. I know 
 nothing but true Christianity which will ensure 
 this. Infidels have tried their hand at melio- 
 rating the condition of the labouring class ; they 
 have had no effect but to make them conceited, 
 radical, violent, discontented, factious, and idle. 
 I could wish that every mechanic had a copy of 
 the "Radical's Saturday Night," by Professor 
 Wilson. The doctrines, precepts, and examples 
 of the Bible afford the only available rules for 
 happiness. These it is which have thrown so 
 holy a light over the cottage of the Swiss, the 
 Scot, and the New-Englander of former days. 
 
 In recommending religion, let me not be un- 
 derstood as recommending this or that sect. The 
 Christian army is divided into many battalions, 
 differing in their name, uniform, colours, watch-
 
 THE MECHANIC'S RELIGION. 2S3 
 
 words, and tactics : while they agree in recog- 
 nising the same master, and fighting for the same 
 cause, against the same foe, and with the same 
 arms. The reader of these pages, with the Bible 
 in his hand, has already chosen for himself, or 
 ought to do so without delay. In regard to this 
 choice I would not interfere. Not that I am in- 
 dift'erent ; on the contrary, my own convictions 
 are strong ; but it is no part of my plan to make 
 proselytes, or even to betray my partialities. 
 The grand object of this paper will be attained, 
 if I can persuade the reader to join himself to the 
 number of true Christians. And I am willing to 
 describe the true Christian in the words of Chief 
 Justice Hale, that ornament as well of the bench 
 as of the church of England. 
 
 " He who fears the God of heaven and earth," 
 such is Judge Hale's description of the good 
 man, " walks humbly before him, thankfully lays 
 hold of the message of redemption by Jesus 
 Christ, and strives to express his thankfulness by 
 the sincerity of his obedience. He is sorry with 
 all his soul when he comes short of his duty. 
 He walks watchfully in the denial of himself, 
 and holds no confederacy with any lust or known 
 sin. If he falls in the least measure, he is rest- 
 less till he has made his peace by true repent-
 
 284 THE AMERICAN MECHANIC. 
 
 ance. He is true to his promises, just in his 
 dealings, charitable to the poor, sincere in his de- 
 votion. He will not deliberately dishonour God, 
 although secure of impunity ; he hath his hopes 
 and his conversation in heaven, and dares not do 
 any thing unjustly, be it ever so much to his ad- 
 vantage ; and all this because he loves him, and 
 fears him, as well for his goodness as his great- 
 ness. 
 
 " Such a man," continues Hale, " whether he 
 be an Episcopalian or a Presbyterian, an Inde- 
 pendent, or an Anabaptist ; whether he wears a 
 surplice or wears none ; whether he hears organs 
 or hears none ; whether he kneels at the commu- 
 nion, or for conscience sake stands or sits ; he 
 has the life of religion in him ; and that life acts 
 in him, and will conform his soul to the image of 
 his Saviour, and go along with him to eternity, 
 notwithstanding his practice or non-practice of 
 things indifferent. 
 
 " On the other hand, if a man fears not the 
 eternal God ; if he can commit sin with presump- 
 tion, drink excessively, swear vainly or falsely, 
 cozen, lie, cheat, break his promises, live loosely ; 
 though at the same time he may be studious to 
 practise every ceremony with a scrupulous exact- 
 ness, or may, perhaps, as stubbornly oppose
 
 THE MECHANIC'S RELIGION. 285 
 
 them ; though he should cry down bishops or 
 cry down presbytery ; though he fasts all Lent, 
 or feasts out of pretence of avoiding superstition ; 
 yet, notwithstanding these and a thousand more 
 external conformities, or zealous opposition of 
 them he wants the life of religion." 
 
 It is impossible to conceive of greater folly 
 than that of the man who pleads want of time, 
 or hurry of business, in justification of his neg- 
 lect of religion. It is bartering the greatest in- 
 terest away for nothing ; losing eternity for the 
 chances of a moment.
 
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