Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Second Portion
 Third Portion
 Back Cover

Title: The parents' cabinet of amusement and instruction
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003492/00001
 Material Information
Title: The parents' cabinet of amusement and instruction
Physical Description: 12 v. in 4 : ill. (some col.), maps, charts ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Leighton, John, 1822-1912 ( Binding designer )
Smith, Elder, and Co
Publisher: Smith, Elder and Co.
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1859
Edition: New ed.
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Physics -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Geography -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Zoology -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1859   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1859   ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1859   ( local )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1859   ( rbprov )
Leighton -- Signed bindings (Binding) -- 1859   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1859
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Signed bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
General Note: "Printed by Smith, Elder and Co."--T.p. verso.
General Note: Binding design signed: "JL" <i.e. John Leighton>
General Note: Added engraved t.p.
General Note: Volume no. designation from the page of table of contents.
General Note: Publication information from t.p. of v. 4/6.
General Note: Baldwin Library copy imperfect: lacking t.p. of v. 1/3, 4/6, & 10/12.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003492
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002235434
oclc - 47660624
notis - ALH5881

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front cover 1
        Front cover 2
        Front cover 3
        Front cover 4
        Front cover 5
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
    Table of Contents
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
    Second Portion
        Section 2, page 3
        Section 2, page 4
        Section 2, page 5
        Section 2, page 6
        Section 2, page 7
        Section 2, page 8
        Section 2, page 9
        Section 2, page 10
        Section 2, page 11
        Section 2, page 12
        Section 2, page 13
        Section 2, page 14
        Section 2, page 15
        Section 2, page 16
        Section 2, page 17
        Section 2, page 18
        Section 2, page 19
        Section 2, page 20
        Section 2, page 21
        Section 2, page 22
        Section 2, page 23
        Section 2, page 24
        Section 2, page 25
        Section 2, page 26
        Section 2, page 27
        Section 2, page 28
        Section 2, page 29
        Section 2, page 30
        Section 2, page 31
        Section 2, page 32
        Section 2, page 33
        Section 2, page 34
        Section 2, page 35
        Section 2, page 36
        Section 2, page 37
        Section 2, page 38
        Section 2, page 39
        Section 2, page 40
        Section 2, page 41
        Section 2, page 42
        Section 2, page 43
        Section 2, page 44
        Section 2, page 45
        Section 2, page 46
        Section 2, page 47
        Section 2, page 48
        Section 2, page 49
        Section 2, page 50
        Section 2, page 51
        Section 2, page 52
        Section 2, page 53
        Section 2, page 54
        Section 2, page 55
        Section 2, page 56
        Section 2, page 57
        Section 2, page 58
        Section 2, page 59
        Section 2, page 60
        Section 2, page 61
        Section 2, page 62
        Section 2, page 63
        Section 2, page 64
        Section 2, page 65
        Section 2, page 66
        Section 2, page 67
        Section 2, page 68
        Section 2, page 69
        Section 2, page 70
        Section 2, page 71
        Section 2, page 72
        Section 2, page 73
        Section 2, page 74
        Section 2, page 75
        Section 2, page 76
        Section 2, page 77
        Section 2, page 78
        Section 2, page 79
        Section 2, page 80
        Section 2, page 81
        Section 2, page 82
        Section 2, page 83
        Section 2, page 84
        Section 2, page 85
        Section 2, page 86
        Section 2, page 87
        Section 2, page 88
        Section 2, page 89
        Section 2, page 90
        Section 2, page 91
        Section 2, page 92
        Section 2, page 93
        Section 2, page 94
        Section 2, page 95
        Section 2, page 96
        Section 2, page 97
        Section 2, page 98
        Section 2, page 99
        Section 2, page 100
        Section 2, page 101
        Section 2, page 102
        Section 2, page 103
        Section 2, page 104
        Section 2, page 105
        Section 2, page 106
        Section 2, page 107
        Section 2, page 108
        Section 2, page 109
        Section 2, page 110
        Section 2, page 111
        Section 2, page 112
        Section 2, page 113
        Section 2, page 114
        Section 2, page 115
        Section 2, page 116
        Section 2, page 117
        Section 2, page 118
        Section 2, page 119
        Section 2, page 120
        Section 2, page 121
        Section 2, page 122
        Section 2, page 123
        Section 2, page 124
        Section 2, page 125
        Section 2, page 126
        Section 2, page 127
        Section 2, page 128
        Section 2, page 133
        Section 2, page 134
        Section 2, page 135
        Section 2, page 136
        Section 2, page 137
        Section 2, page 138
        Section 2, page 139
        Section 2, page 140
        Section 2, page 141
        Section 2, page 142
        Section 2, page 143
        Section 2, page 144
        Section 2, page 145
        Section 2, page 146
        Section 2, page 147
        Section 2, page 148
        Section 2, page 149
        Section 2, page 150
        Section 2, page 151
        Section 2, page 152
        Section 2, page 153
        Section 2, page 154
        Section 2, page 155
        Section 2, page 156
        Section 2, page 157
        Section 2, page 158
        Section 2, page 159
        Section 2, page 160
        Section 2, page 161
        Section 2, page 162
        Section 2, page 163
        Section 2, page 164
        Section 2, page 165
        Section 2, page 166
        Section 2, page 167
        Section 2, page 168
        Section 2, page 169
        Section 2, page 170
        Section 2, page 171
        Section 2, page 172
        Section 2, page 173
        Section 2, page 174
        Section 2, page 175
        Section 2, page 176
        Section 2, page 177
        Section 2, page 178
        Section 2, page 179
        Section 2, page 180
        Section 2, page 181
        Section 2, page 182
        Section 2, page 183
        Section 2, page 184
        Section 2, page 185
        Section 2, page 186
        Section 2, page 187
        Section 2, page 188
        Section 2, page 189
        Section 2, page 190
        Section 2, page 191
        Section 2, page 192
        Section 2, page 193
        Section 2, page 194
        Section 2, page 195
        Section 2, page 196
        Section 2, page 197
        Section 2, page 198
        Section 2, page 199
        Section 2, page 200
        Section 2, page 201
        Section 2, page 202
        Section 2, page 203
        Section 2, page 204
        Section 2, page 205
        Section 2, page 206
        Section 2, page 207
        Section 2, page 208
        Section 2, page 209
        Section 2, page 210
    Third Portion
        Section 3, page 209
        Section 3, page 210
        Section 3, page 211
        Section 3, page 212
        Section 3, page 213
        Section 3, page 214
        Section 3, page 215
        Section 3, page 216
        Section 3, page 217
        Section 3, page 218
        Section 3, page 219
        Section 3, page 220
        Section 3, page 221
        Section 3, page 222
        Section 3, page 223
        Section 3, page 224
        Section 3, page 225
        Section 3, page 226
        Section 3, page 227
        Section 3, page 228
        Section 3, page 229
        Section 3, page 230
        Section 3, page 231
        Section 3, page 232
        Section 3, page 233
        Section 3, page 234
        Section 3, page 235
        Section 3, page 236
        Section 3, page 237
        Section 3, page 238
        Section 3, page 239
        Section 3, page 240
        Section 3, page 241
        Section 3, page 242
        Section 3, page 243
        Section 3, page 244
        Section 3, page 245
        Section 3, page 246
        Section 3, page 247
        Section 3, page 248
        Section 3, page 249
        Section 3, page 250
        Section 3, page 251
        Section 3, page 252
        Section 3, page 253
        Section 3, page 254
        Section 3, page 255
        Section 3, page 256
        Section 3, page 257
        Section 3, page 258
    Back Cover
        Section 3, page 259
        Section 3, page 260
        Section 3, page 261
Full Text






et- ,


The Baldwin Library
t i University





A wl
. Ur-.J ..... ..A il

- 1 FI------?-------~ I- --- ------^------- -------I--~I~---- -~~~~-'~--- -

- ~1 "I ~~i~3






I -

*| s



.,- o10-12.

r- -__

..i .
~~el r ';"~4









"Oir, fie! Caroline, to sit there nursing that lazy cat,
when you have done so much mischief in the garden!"
cried her brother William.
"I have not been into the garden this long time,"

said Caroline, so I cannot have done any harm;"
and she patted the cat's head.
"Not been into the garden! Pray, how then did
the geese and ducks get in ? You had the care of
them, and mamma desired you to drive them through
the garden into the cow-yard," replied her brother.
"The geese and ducks !" said his sister. "Oh!

they are quite safe: I only left them to rest them-
selves a little on the grass-plot, while I rested too,

for I was as tired as they were."
'i" You are always tired, I think," said William.

'- It miist be doing nothing that fatigues you so much.



~ _~~~


:, .

&rPd~lc~-m.-;-l~,..,u-L--u---- ..~n;"---.'L~ ~_,, ~~.._~1_';,,___~~_ ~__~,,~._r~Lr- -..L~L~B~fl



But now you must stir, for your laziness, or fatigue,
as you call it, has caused a great deal of mischief.
While you have been idling here with the cat, thl
geese haVe been eating the summer cabbages, and,
the' ducks the spinach, besides trampling down the
young plants and the French-beans."
Before Caroline could reply, she heard her mother's
voice inquiMng for her; and hastily turning the cat
out of her lap, she ran into the garden.
Too true was the news that William had given to
her. The geese and ducks had left the grass-plot,
and strayed into the kitchen garden, where she found
tirem very busily employed in eating the vegetables.
QOt of a bed of fine summer cabbages, five or six
only remained unhurt. The go e had eaten many
if A6em to the very stump, The lucks were tread-
fhg down the beans 'in hunting for s\gs, and eating
the spinach.
Tirbsome creature 1I" cried Caroline, "to give
mie all this trouble. Why could not you stop on the
grass-plot where I put you? Get away, get away, I
say; you cause more trouble than you are worth,
"tA.hot day;" and in an angry manner she began to
div them off the beds on to the paths.
The ill-teinpe made the matter worse, for the
birds being frightened, flew about in all directions,
screaming and quacking; and Caroline losing f.l
command of herself, picked up stones to throwwi
134 4



--- --- ~--------, --



___ _II~P~.WPIII~~P- --


them, and broke off a long switch from a pear-tree
to punish them with. But before she could use it,
her brother William, together with her mother and
the gardener, came up; and Caroline, ashamed,
dropped the stick, and ran hastily down the narrow
path where the poor ducks had taken refuge.
Caroline," said her mother, come back. You
will kill these creatures with your violence."
Caroline stopped, and after some trouble the geese
and ducks were gently driven from the garden into
the yard, and the garden gate was closed after
As Caroline walked out of the garden, she felt
sorry that her idleness should have caused so much
mischief; and she wished that she had seen the geese
and ducks into the cow-yard at once. It would
have been less trouble," said she.
Yes; it is always the way to save trouble to do
what is to be done well at once.
Caroline was fourteen years old, and had regular
duties to perform. It was her business to go into
the dairy to see the milk skimmed and the cream
measured; and on the mornings that the butter was
churned, to see it taken from the churn and washed
and weighed. Her mother expected that she would
keep an account of the quantity made, and also of
the quantity of milk which the two cows gave daily.
She had, besides, to weigh and give out from the

II I Ilrrr I



store-room the different things required in the house.
Her mother had trusted these things to her care, but
Caroline's indolence was so great that, although she
wished to please her mother, she scarcely ever was up
early enough to visit the dairy at the proper time; and
was obliged to give the key to the dairy-maid, not
being herself ready to attend. And she would have
to visit the store-room many times in the course of
the day, because she would not take the trouble to
think what would be wanted every day before she
went there.
When Caroline came into tie house, she went into
her mother's room and told her how sorry and
ashamed she was for her late piece of idleness.
"Caroline," said her mother, I grieve not for
the cabbages that have been destroyed, but -for the
unhappy life that you are preparing for yourself.
You are now fourteen years of age, and already
feel the discomfort that arises from your indolence.
But what you feel now is as nohing-a ompared with
what you will feel, if you suffer that which is still
but a slight failing to grow into a confirmed habit.
You will be neither trusted nor loved."
Feeling the justice of these remarks, and heartily
sorry to see her mother so much vexed with her,
Caroline made many promises to endeavour to con-
quer her laziness.
The next morning, when the maid came to say she


---~nxl~-~--l---~^~I----- ---------rL-^n

... ..- __


was ready to go into the dairy and wanted the key,
Caroline first rubbed her eyes, saying she was very
sleepy, and that it was very early; and then remem-
bering the many new-formed resolutions of not in-
dulging in indolence, she told the maid that she
would soon be ready. She did not give up the key.
This morning she had the satisfaction of feeling that
she did her duty; for she herself unlocked the dairy
before six o'clock, and while the butter was churned,
she saw the new-milk measured; and when the
butter had been washed and weighed, she put down
the quantity of both milk and butter into the book.
Her younger sister Maria fed the poultry; and
the young people met their mother at breakfast
with a good account of morning duties well per-
The day so well begun was equally well continued.
Caroline deserved and received her mother's praise
for her good conduct; and when the merry party met
at supper, her mother, taking a letter from her
Pocket, told her children that she had some good
news which they little expected-that in a fortnight
they would see their father.
This news was received with a general shout of
joy. We will go and meet him," was the first cry.
"Will he come in the morning or evening, dear
mother? Read all his letter, pray do!"
"He will not arrive till the evening, and I hope

I ~.~rcn*-----------ni~ -- ---. ---- .,

_ --


we shall all go to meet him," said their mother; "but
so great a treat can only belong to the industrious.
Let us therefore have a good account of nothing left
undone every day." Their mother then read the
letter to them.
The two boys, Henry and William, began to think
of the manner in which they should receive their
father. But their mother begged them to talk of all
that in the morning, as it was now bed-time. The
young people obeyed; and Caroline went to bed full
of schemes of happiness. Her father had been
absent from home more than three months, and all
his children expected his return with eagerness and
Caroline and her brothers met early the next
morning to settle their plans of rejoicing for their
father's return. William oosed that they should
make a large bonfire on the top o- e hill which
gives, as he said, the first glimpse of home. c" Yes,"
said Henry; "and we will be there, and we will
have a famous lot of fire-works; and as soon as our
father appears in sight, we will send up a serpent."
Oh, that will be beautiful," said Caroline; but
it will be finer still if we each of us send one off at
the same time."
And mamma says I may go with you, if it is not
much past nine," said little Maria. I shall run
and kiss papa first."

_ ___~_1___1

____~___I_~_ _I____~____~I_~ I__ __ ~____ __~_I


Let us save the white currants that are getting
ripe, for him," said Caroline: the white currants on
our tree. Maria, will you give your half?"
SOh, yes, that I will; and let us take the best to
him. He will like them so much after his long
journey," said Maria.
Everything was thus pleasantly arranged. The
boys were to make the fire-works and to collect the
materials for the bonfire, and to convey them to the
place, which was three quarters of a mile from the
house. Having settled their plans, the children,
eager as they were to see their father, could not
help hoping that he would arrive sufficiently late to
allow their bonfire and fire-works to be seen to ad-
Caroline's improved activity continued in full force
for two or three days; and then little by little her
long-indulged habit of indolence crept over her
again, and began to conquer her. A few minutes
later each morning soon destroyed her early rising.
She was again as usual the last down, and she had
the mortification of seeing the servant fetch the key,
and of knowing that her mother rose early and went
to the dairy herself. Her mother's health was not
strong, and the extra fatigue that she had was
easily to be traced in the paleness of her counte-
nance. Every day Caroline said, I will be up in
time to-morrow ;" and every morrow Caroline only

I ,-,-e ----------- -- ---- ------ -------- -- -- -- ----- -



-- --~ 1-~~-~c~-~-~-~


got down in time to eat her breakfast just before it
was removed.
This indolence also made her untidy in her per-
sonal appearance. She was satisfied with hurrying
her clothes on, without first washing herself; and
thought herself clean enough when she had passed
over her face the corner of a towel dipped in a little
drop of water at the bottom of her basin. A comb,
some mornings, scarcely passed through her hair;
and it was seldom that a hair-brush, nail-brush, and
tooth-brush were used as they ought to be. She
thought herself dressed when she pleased her eye by
putting round her waist a smart coloured ribbon,
although even in this she did not take the trouble to
suit the ribbon to the colour of the dress. Caroline
often, too, used a pin where she should have sewed
on a button or hook; and let every little girl remember
that, whenever a pi is employed where a needle and
thread ought to be used, s e ntidy and unpleas-
ing in her appearance.
Caroline, besides the care of her own linen, had
also part of her eldest brother Henry's. This was
included in her share of the business of the house;
and it ought to have been her care, as it was her
duty, to keep his shirts neatly mended. But the
same laziness which caused her to neglect her other
duties, made her also put off mending from week to
week the things required. Small rents and holes had

I.- ____ _. I __---- ~ -- ;--aii~ ~ .p

.~vrrr...i.l-.i m.--...-.L.r-r-- ca- ..- .._


thus become so large as to render many of Henry's
shirts unfit to be worn. Her brother at last
began to complain to her of the uncomfortable
state of his clothes; and one morning he brought
down the shirt she had given to him, saying,
he positively would -not wear such a ragged
What a plague !" said his sister.
What idleness, rather say," replied her brother.
" If I were to write my Greek exercises or Latin
translations in as slovenly a manner as you do your
work, I should be quite ashamed to let my father or
my master see them."
I do my work well enough," said Caroline, pet-
tishly. You tear your clothes much more than
anybody else. If I were to work all day and all
night too, it would be of no use."
"I wish you would try during the day, and I
would excuse you at night," said Henry, laughing;
you would soon have nothing to do. You must,
however, give me a shirt, for I am going in half an
hour to my Greek lesson, and if you cannot I must
ask my mother."
You need not do that," replied his sister, alarmed:
for she knew too well the sad state of the clothes
given into her charge, to wish her mother to see
them. If you will wear this shirt, which has only
one little tear at the shoulder, to-day, I will put

_ ~___-~---~I~LI~-CYII ---LII~---LIIII~i~XllCI~~~U)-II~



some new wristbands on another before you want it
to-morrow morning."
Henry good-humouredly took the offered shirt,
and shook his head significantly at the same time,
and said, laughing, "Ah! Caroline, I a afraid it will
be-rags out of sight, out of mind; but I will bring
some sticking-plaster home with me, for it is but fair,
if you prick your fingers working at- my wrist-
bands, that I should assist in healing the wounds."
Henry set off to attend his master, who lived in
the town three miles from hia father's house, He
went twice a-week, on half-holidays, for four hours
at a time. Caroline, instead of proceeding at once
to fulfil her promise, found the weather too hot just
then to sit down to needlework, and therefore put
off the evil hour, ant-aiused herself with sitting in
the shade, at one time reading a story-book, and at
another time nursing the cat, till the coolness of the
afternoon came on. But then came another excuse
for delay, for William having prepared his, school
work for the next morning, asked her to walk and
meet Henry. Henry's name, it is true, brought the
shirt to her recollection; but she felt more inclined
to walk than to work; and so she again yielded to
self-indulgence, flattering herself that she could get
up early in the morning, and mend his shirt.
Caroline was so long getting her bonnet, that they
had not walked more than a mile before they met

L- -i ,. __. .~., ~, ~~.,____~~~~~~ ---~_ -- ~~Fj~ii*i ~Ctsl~r -- _~ ..+

--- ---------*Jllr~~arIl~~a~~sll~~a~-r c-- I 1.

------ -- -------

L"-'~ -rs--,-uua---r~r~Li-~u- ..~, .


Henryv Well, Caroline," said he, how do you
do? I have not forgotten you-see here is a paper
of sticking-plaster which I have bought for you,
How many wounds are there on your fingers?"
Not one," said Caroline.
Then my poor shirt is unmended," said Henry.
Caroline made no answer. Her walk did not
seem to give her much pleasure; and she returned
home weary, and out of spirits.
The next morning Henry tapped at her door, and
heard, with considerable anger, when he inquired for
his shirt, that it was not mended. But, after many
bitter complaints, he was again persuaded to put up
with a ragged shirt in silence.
Caroline, as she looked upon the quantity of un-
mended linen which she had allowed to increase
upon her hands, felt ready to cry. It wanted now
but two days to her father's return; and it was abso-
lutely necessary that a shirt should be mended for
Henry; for every one of his shirts was ragged. She
had not courage to apply to her mother, and tell her
how disgracefully lazy she had been. She deter-
mined to give up the whole day to needlework.
But when she joined the rest of the family at break-
fast, she heard that her brothers had invited some
young friends to a cricket-match in the field that
afternoon, and her plan of industry was immediately
given up.

-- -T-` -



When the boys were assembled, Henry asked his
mother to come and sit in the tent which he had put
up, and look on at their game; and Caroline, as if
she had nothing to do but amuse herself, took her
seat in it also. Henry was soon called to bowl, and
to do this more easily he took off his jacket. 'The
rags that his sister obliged him to put on were now
displayed in public. The rent had increased so
much that the whole of his shoulder was bare. His
companions laughed and joked, telling him that he
was cool and airy.
I must put on my hot jacket, I suppose," said
he, 1" for I am really ashamed to bese-e -
When he came to the tent for his jacket, the state
of his linen was observed by his mother. My dear
boy," said she, pray, go in and change those rags.
How came you to wear such a shirt?"
Henry looked at Caroline, and she, colouring very
deeply as her mother looked at her also, stammered
out a few unmeaning words in a sorrowful tone, but
was quite unable to make an excuse.
Seeing her confused looks, her mother said no
more, but taking hold of her daughter's hand, in-
stantly returned to the house, and going to Henry's
drawers, began to take out and unfold the linen.
Caroline now burst into tears.
Dear mother," said Henry, who had followed, in
hopes of finding a shirt that he could wear, "Caro-

L; ___~_~~_ ~~_~____~_~~~~~ ~ ~ --



line is so sorry, do forgive her this time; she will
take more care in future."
"I wish I could think so," said his mother; "but
Caroline's indolence grieves me more and more
every day. I fear it will end in my being obliged
to treat her as a child; since she shows herself
unfit to be treated as a young person of her age
ought to be."
His mother then gave Henry the least ragged of
the unmended shirts, and then giving Caroline such
directions about mending another as she thought
necessary, desired her to do it that afternoon.
And may not I take my work out into the field?"
asked Caroline.
Certainly not; you would be sure to have
your attention distracted from it by what was
going on. It is your own fault that you can-
not look on at your brothers' game," replied her
mother. "Had you attended to your work at the
proper hours, you would not now be deprived of this
pleasure. I shall be obliged to take away all your
amusements if you do not exert yourself to keep
your brother's clothes in a neat state. It is a dis-
grace to us, Caroline, that he should be seen as he
was to-day. With patience and good humour at once
employ yourself at what I have given you to do."
Caroline had the additional vexation to see her
mother take away some of the shirts to mend her-


- --- -- ------------

v-~... ___~~~_~i_~_n-M-


self. She watched her, with a bundle and her work-
box in her hand, crossing the garden into the field to
the cricketers.
Silently and sorrowfully did Caroline sit down to
her work. With every stitch that she put in, she
had a feeling of repentance that she had not put
it in when it was first wanted. As she worked she
thought of the way she had been spending her
time. She could recollect nothing satisfactory.
A few pencil drawings, a few sums, and about
twelve pages of French translation, were all that
she could remember to have done for her own im-
provement during the last three months. Not
that her household duties had occupied rAuch of
her time. She had not kept the accounts regu-
larly. She had but seldom given out from the
store-room the different things wanted. She had
but seldom been to the dairy. She had not nursed
the baby, nor helped in teaching the younger chil-
dren. Every day was a blank. Every day she
deserved to be written down Idle." As Caroline
thought of all this, she cried bitterly.
But after some time she wiped her eyes, and
taking courage, said, "I can work quick and well
when I choose, and I can do other things well
also to please mamma when I take the trouble;
and I will try now at least to do what she wishes,
and make her and myself happy." With these

j-- ------~ -- ------~,-.-- ~-.e ,- ~..--~--~nlL~_rre~i~`lllrrt 1,

~----------------- ------ --- ----- ------------- .. -~--^~.~li~i-.--- I- ---1----I -rL;_lill


good feelings, she worked steadily on, not stopping
either to stroke the cat, loll out of the window, or
to read any of the amusiing story-books that were
within her reach.
She was not long in mending the shirt, for she
worked in earnest; and she had the pleasure of
hearing herself praised by her mother. Henry
also, who was present, was delighted that his sister
had succeeded in earning the praise bestowed upon
her, and he thanked-her for her diligence.
This evening, as soon as tea was over, Henry
and William employed themselves in looking over
what they had prepared against their father's re-
turn. These boys had copied, in a neat hand-
writing, their Latin and Greek exercises, and had
written out a long account of the arithmetic and
mathematics which they had learned during his
absence. Henry had, besides, helped his mother
to keep an exact account of the money that had
been paid to the different people employed by his
father. Little Maria had made a book, in which
she had written down, as well as she was able,
an account of how many eggs, whether from hens,
ducks, or guinea-fowls, she had collected, how much
needlework she had done, and how much weeding in
the garden. What lessons she had done were written
down in it also.
Caroline alone had kept no account; and if she




had kept one, the number of blanks in it would
have made her afraid to look at it. As she saw
the happy faces of her brothers and sisters while
they were so employed, she felt truly sorry that
she should have so misspent her time. She had
not enjoyed herself while she had given way to
indolence, and she had lost the pleasure of looking
back on well-spent time.
The gardener had given notice that lie intended
that night to take a hive of honey without killing
the bees; and, at about nine o'clock, he brought
the hive full of combs into the house. Maria had
gone to bed, and the two boys had gone out to
finish their fireworks. Caroline and her mother were
at work together. At her mother's request, she went
out at once for the purpose of taking the comb out
of the hive, and separating the honeycomb from the
cells containing the young bees. Her mother had
instructed her how to cut off the waxen coverings on
both sides of the honey-combs, so that they might
drain through the hair-sieves into the dishes.
Unfortunately for Caroline, when she came to the
pantry where the hive had been placed, she heard
her brothers letting off some of the fireworks to try
(as they said) if they were good; and this made
her forget the errand on which she had come. She
was so much interested in looking at what her brothers
were doing, that she loitered till it was time to go to

_. ~_~-u ,.--- I,;-----c-;--~

-- -- .L .~L I-


bed. She determined, however, to be up before break-
fast to attend to the honeycomb. But, as usual, her
good intentions were followed by nothing useful.
She awoke only just a quarter of an hour before
breakfast-time, and her hurry to be down made
her more slovenly than usual in performing her
scanty operations in dressing herself. The points
of the pins stuck out frightfully on each side of her
collar. Her hair was rough, and her face and hands
were scarcely touched with water. She came to the
breakfast-table with none of that fresh appearance in
her looks given by the free use of cold water.
Caroline felt much relieved when she saw her
mother come into the room with her bonnet on,
ready to go out. A neighbour's child had been
taken violently ill, and its mother had sent to re-
quest that Caroline's mother would be so kind as
to come and assist with her advice. Caroline's
mother had come in before she went, expressly to
tell her daughter to be careful to keep the door and
windows shut in the room where, as she supposed,
the honeycomb had been placed to drain.
As soon as her mother had gone, Caroline ate her
breakfast hastily, and hurried her brothers and sister
with theirs; and wishing to spare her mother the
vexation of knowing that the honeycomb was still
untouched, she ran to the pantry without a moment's
delay. She was not long in pulling out the combs

III~-------------- -- ------ -- ---. I-- -


from the hive; but in her hurry she did not think of
shutting the door and windows. She separated the
combs, placing the combs that contained the young
bees in their various stages of growth in a large pan,
and the honeycombs in dishes. She carried these
dishes to a table in the hall; and left them there
while she went to look for the store-room key. She
was going to take all these things to the store-room,
there to finish the work which ought to have been
done the night before.
In less than five minutes, the call of her sister
Maria made her run back to the hall.
Caroline! Caroline! make haste! the bees the
bees! The dishes are covered with bees! the house
is full of bees! Oh, what shall we do ?"
"Caroline," cried Henry, who had come into the
hall for his hat, as he was setting off for school, "be
quick, or there will be no honey left."
This information was too true. In a few minutes
more the house swarmed with bees in a very angry
state. The noise they made was prodigious. They
settled upon the various combs, some sucking the
honey, others gathering in clusters on the cells of the
young bees. Every attempt to drive them off was
useless. They only became more and more irritated,
and stung such as interfered.
1Maria, following Caroline's order to run away with
one of the dishes of honeycomb, was stung so severely



- ~"


in the hand that she dropped the dish, and crying, ran
upstairs out of the way of the bees.
Caroline was in great distress, and too much con-
fused to think what was the best to do. Henry
called the gardener, who came in with William
Our neighbours are quite astonished," said the
gardener, at the bustle among their bees."
Well done exclaimed William. No wonder
the bees from all the gardens near us are flocking in
here The smell of the honey makes them wild."
"And the smell of the honey and of their brood-
cells taken away," said the gardener, "makes ours
Shut the doors and windows, then," said Henry,
and let us cover over the dishes as quickly as
"What are we to do?" cried Caroline, quite
frightened, as the bees every instant flew around and
settled upon her.
"Oh, queen-bee, you must hive them all," said
William; you have attracted them."
We must burn some brimstone, and then cover
over the dishes," said the gardener. Let some one
run and fetch a lump of brimstone in an old iron
spoon or tin-plate, and bring a light to set fire to it."
This was soon brought, and the boys and the gar-
dener held the burning brimstone near the dishes,



and in different parts of the hall. The vapour of
the brimstone soon overpowered the bees, and they
dropped down in great numbers; and the gardener
crushed them by hundreds as they lay stupified
on the floor.
In the midst of this confusion, while the eyes of
the young people were smarting, and they were
coughing with the suffocating fumes of the brim-
stone that filled the house, their mother arrived.
What is the matter ?" said she, "that, all down
the road, the bees should be out in such numbers,
and so agitated ?"
Ask the queen-bee, mamma," said William, half-
laughing. She wants a hive in the hall."
I am not the queen-bee," cried Caroline, the
tears rolling down her cheeks with vexation, and
with the pain she was suffering from the stings, and
the brimstone fumes. I could not help it."
No, indeed," said Henry, laughing, William is
mistaken. I think we should rather say that the
drone, and not the queen-bee, has done all the mis-
chief. If it had not been for the gardener's brimstone
I think the poor thing would have been killed by her
angry pursuers."
It is not my fault," said Caroline, angrily. I
will not be called a drone."
"Hush-hush !" interrupted her mother, do not
add ill-temper to indolence. Repair the mischief

Irr----------- -- .



you have caused, as well as you can. Clear the
combs from the bees, and cover the dishes over one
by one, now that the bees are stupified, and run
away with them to the store-room."
Do not kill any more of the poor things," said
Henry. While they are torpid we can remove the
combs; and they may recover by and by, and fly
away to their homes again."
"I am afraid," said the gardener, that but few
will go back to their hives. The honey and the
brood-cells have made them mad."
William, wishing to save the stupified bees that
were on the table and floor, was gently sweeping
them up, and putting them with a spoon into a pan,
intending to take them into the garden, when one
of them stung him on the finger.
Thank you, Caroline," said he.
What for ?" asked Caroline.
One of your subjects has wounded me," said he,
laughing; and I think it right to inform you, as
queen-bee, of her bad conduct, so that you may
punish the offender."
Put some hartshorn to the wound," said his
mother; "and do not call her the queen-bee any
With great trouble the dishes were at last con-
veyed to the store-room, and the keyhole of the
door was carefully stopped. Then the house doors

_I_ ________^I_ __~_______ ____~_ __~_ ___ 1

_ __~_ UII___UII__ICIII__

--- -- .. ......._..._.___._._ ,---

were thrown open, the torpid bees were carried out,
and the agitation of the neighboring hives gradually
A little hartshorn and oil was then applied to the
wounds of those who had been stung.
The morrow came, the long-looked-for and wished-
for day, that was to bring back their father after so
long an absence. All was bustle and joy. It was a
holiday for all. The boys packed up the fire-works
which they had made in some tin cases that had
held gunpowder; and collected the necessary mate-
rials for the bonfire on the top of the hill where they
meant to light it. The girls prepared all things for
their father's refi-eshment, and gathered a basket of
their own ripe currants, ready to take with them
when they went to meet him.
It was a beautiful day in August-warm and
clear. The afternoon was impatiently expected; and
when dinner was concluded, the young people went
to prepare themselves to meet their father.
At five o'clock everything was in readiness. They
set off, but were scarcely outside the garden-gate,
when it was discovered that one of Caroline's stock-
ings had a large hole in it. Her mother stopped,
and pointed it out to her.
Caroline blushed, and was silent.
On a day of so much happiness and expected
pleasure, I will forgive even this disgraceful unti-

I IIlllW

- --- ------~11-~1--------- --------------~---- `---~



diness, if you have other stockings fit to put on,"
8aid her mother.
Caroline made no reply. She could not answer,
because she knew that her stockings were as much
neglected as her brother's clothes had been.
Why do not you speak ?" asked her mother.
Caroline being still silent, her mother continued-
' I leave it to yourself to decide whether you wish
your father, after so long an absence, to be pained by
the sight of his daughter's slovenliness."
Caroline burst into tears, and slowly turned back
to the house. Truly penitent and ashamed, she saw
the party depart without her. She listened to the
wstid of their voices as long as she could hear them,
ald cried till she could cry no longer.
But, suddenly wiping ler tears from her eyes, she
said-"This punishment I have brought on myself
by my indulgence in that indolence of which my
mother has so often tried to cure me. I will be a
disgrace to her no longer; I will not meet my father
as a sloven, although I have been one during his
absence. I will prove to both my father and mother
that I am anxious to improve, and will employ myself
till their arrival in mending as many things as I can."
Caroline accordingly took out her thimble and
needle and cotton, and first mended herself a pair of
stockings to put on. One half-hour only was re-
quired for this. For the sake of indulging some idle

CL---~2 ~__ ;-~ ~ ~_~___


whim, she had sacrificed the pleasure of meeting her
father. She knew he would ask for her; and what
would be said? This thought renewed her grief,
but it also urged her to further exertion. She opened
her drawers. There all was confusion. How dif-
ferently were Maria's drawers kept. Everything
there was laid in its place. I will try to be more
industrious; I will try to be neat," said Caroline;
and in a moment she turned everything out of her
drawers, and put them all in order. She then
mended some of her stockings; and was astonished
to find how easily everything might be kept mended,
and in order, by a little steady application. The
dusk of the evening coming on, she could no longer
see. "How long they are I wish they would
come!" said she, looking from the window.
The clock struck eight, and Caroline saw at a dis-
tance a shower of bright sparks. Oh!" said she,
starting up, "they are coming; that is one of Henry's
serpents, and another, and another. Oh, how I wish
I was with them !"
She now began to hear the shouts of joy, which
grew louder and louder every minute, and an-
nounced, through the darkness, that the happy party
was approaching. At length they reached the gate.
Caroline ran down to the house-door to meet her
father. He had already learned from her mother the
cause of his eldest girl's absence, and, therefore, he

- --


had no occasion to make any inquiries. But Caroline
was proud to tell him how she had employed herself
while waiting for them. Her father kissed her, and
kindly told her he hoped that henceforward her daily
account would be as good, and that he should have
the pleasure of seeing his eldest girl punctual and
"Conquer your indolence, my dear girl," said he,
" and do not let your mother and myself be any
longer uneasy on your account. Let us have the
pleasure of seeing you neat and useful; and the re-
flection that you have left no duty unperformed will
make your life cheerful and happy."
As Caroline listened to her father, she made many
good resolutions to endeavour to reform the bad
habits that, little by little, were making her both
unhappy and useless. It was a difficult task that lay
before her; but at each successful attempt to do her
duty, the task became easier; and, when once the
better habit had been formed, she found it as easy
and pleasant to be industrious and useful, as before
she had thought it difficult and painful. We rejoice
to add that in time she succeeded, and had the
reward of perseverance in good.


_________________ ________._i

I m ~ p---C-~ ~S'- 1~ -_-r-~i-- -------


SCOME, George, let us make a good high swing from
one of the boughs of the elm-tree," said Frederick
Harmer to his brother, as they ran into the garden
one morning after their return from school. If
you will fetch the rope, I will fasten it securely.
You can throw the rope to me when I am up."
"But while we are swinging, what will Lucy
do?" inquired George. She would be afraid to
swing in our high swing; besides, she might tumble
out. She came into the garden on purpose to play
with us, and she will not like to be left alone doing
"Oh, I will soon find her an amusement," replied
Fred; I have a piece of string in my pocket, and
I will make her a doll swing with it. Lucy, dear,
bring your doll, and you shall see how nicely she
will swing."
While Lucy ran for her doll, and George went to
fetch the rope for the great swing, Fred tied the
string to the branch of an apple-tree.
"Now for your doll, Lucy," said he, as she re-

I~ .---- --~-~---- C~c-~~Ia -~----"



turned with it in her hand. At first she appeared
to hesitate to trust him with it. "Give it to me,
my dear," said he, "I am in a hurry."
"But I am afraid the doll will fall out," said
Lucy; "you know she is not alive, Fred, she cannot
take hold of the string as I can."
"Ah, but I can manage to keep her in, Lucy,
though she is not alive," replied her brother. I
will take care she shall not fall;" and he placed the
Sdoll in the string as he spoke, and tied her two
hands to the little ropes, and then gently set her
Oh-oh! I like that!" exclaimed Lucy, as she
clapped her hands with pleasure. "The doll looks
just as if she held the ropes herself, and she cannot
fall. Thank you-thank you, Fred."
Fred then left his sister to swing her doll herself,
and climbed the elm-tree, where he soon fixed on a
suitable branch. It was strong, projecting far, and
high enough for their purpose. George was some
time in the house hunting for a rope of sufficient
length: but at last he ran to the elm-tree with a
good long coil of rope in his hand, and which he
quickly threw up to his brother.
As soon as Fred had firmly secured the two ends
of the rope round the branch, and had come down
the tree, he said to George: As you have had the
trouble of finding the rope, you shall have the first

----1 ~"--~-CllC~"-~U9-~*ns3lllro~l~-l~



swing." George, therefore, jumped into the swing,
and Fred swung him for some time.
Fred then proposed that they should swing each
other by turns for one minute at a time. But George
said, I do not think that will be fair to you, Fred,
because you are so much stronger than I, that you
can swing me a great deal quicker than Ican swing
you; and so you will give me more swings than I
ought to have."
"Oh," said Fred, as to that, I do not mind
giving you more swings than you give me, and I
should like to try how many more in the minute
I can give you."
Just as Fred spoke, Mr. and Mrs. Harmer came
into the garden. Mrs. Harmer went to see how
Lucy was amusing herself, while Mr. Harmer walked
towards his boys, by whom he was eagerly called to
stand near and look at his watch, that they might
know who gave most swings in a minute. First
Fred swung George, and then George swung Fred,
for one minute; but they each made exactly thirty
swings, that is, fifteen times forwards and fifteen
times backwards, although George went up much
higher than Fred.
Then their father sat in the swing, and calling
little Lucy, told her to swing him while he looked
at' his watch. So she swung him a very little way
forward, and a very little way backward, scarcely

-~- --







II rrrr~l

----- -------------- ---- ---------~----~--.--- ~~ ___~~~~

I-- ..- c------- ----~- _

making him move a yard; and yet in one minute
he also had made thirty swings. Mr. Harmer
jumped down, and told George if he liked to get
in, he would give him the highest swing that he
had ever had. George, who was a bold little fellow,
sprang into the swing in a moment, and holding the
ropes quite tight, he called out, Swing away,
papa!" Up he went, down again, up again, till his
mother was almost frightened, and Lucy covered
her eyes with her hands. When the minute was
over, he also had only had thirty swings, exactly the
same number as his father and brother.
"How very extraordinary !" exclaimed Fred. "I
cannot make it out."
Nor I," said George. I thought I had had a
great many more swings than Lucy gave papa."
The boys became so much interested in this sub-
ject, and so anxious to hear some explanation about
it, that they forgot the pleasure of swinging. They
ran to their little sister's swing, and asked their
father to/count how many swings in a minute that
would make. So the doll was swung up and down
as far as the swing would go for one minute, and
then the doll was swung very gently for another
minute; and both times Mr. Harmer counted exactly
sixty swings.
Oh, I have found out something!" exclaimed
Fred, eagerly. I can make a time-measurer."
X. 38 161


Indeed !" said his father. How do you know
that ?"
"Because when I had once seen by a watch how
many swings a string with a weight would make in
a minute, I should always know afterwards that a
minute had passed when the same string had made
the same number of swings. I can tell now, papa,
without your watch when a minute has passed. Stop:
I am going to take the doll out, and tie this stone
to the string. Look at your watch, please, when I
begin to count."
Fred accordingly tied the stone to the swing, and
the instant he began counting the swings backwards
and forwards, Mr. Harmer looked at his watch.
When Fred had counted sixty, he asked his father
if one minute had not exactly passed.
"Yes," said Mr. Harmer, you are quite right.
Do you observe, however, that this little swing goes
backwards and forwards sixty times in a minute,
while your large one only went thirty times?"
Oh, yes, I remember that," replied Fred. It
must be on accoaut of the difference of the length
of the rope and the string. The weight has plainly
nothing to do with it, because it mattered not whe-
ther you or George were in the large swing, papa,
or whether the doll or the stone was fastened to the
little swing. I will run into the house for the three-
foot rule, and maesure this little swing."

_ __ .____ _11_1 1_ __


Fred-soon retrnined with the rule, nid by carefully
measuring the little swing, he fouitd it was exactly
three feet three inches in length, or thirty-nine inches.
SLet us tie my ball to a piece of string just that
length," said George, ~" and we shall see if it will
swing backward and forward the same number of
times. Papa, you measure the string, please, and
tie the ball, because you will be sure to do it right.
Here is a bit of string."
1Ir. Harmer took the string, and having fastened
the ball at one end, he measured the string by the
rule, had made a knot in it, so as to leave thirty-
nine inches between the knot and the middle of the
ball. He then gave the watch to Fred, and told him
to look at it while he swung the ball backwards and
forwards. At the end of a minute it had made sixty
swings, the same number as the little swing.
See, papa," said Fred, if I could keep this
string going, it would measure an hour, or even a
day if I liked, only I must keep an exact account of
the number of swings."
"Papa," said George, "if there are sixty seconds
in a minute, and sixty swings in a minute, is there
not one swing in one second?"
SYes," said his father.
"Then we can measure such a little scrap of time
as a second ?" exclaimed George.
"Yes: your piece of string with the ball, and the
38-2 1c3



I a "~ I _,


little swing, which are each exactly thirty-nine inches
in length, are measurers of seconds."
"But our large swing was not a measure of
seconds," said George, because that only went back-
wards and forwards thirty times in the minute?"
No," said Fred; but it was a time-measurer,
although it did not make the same number of swings
in the minute as the little swing. How long, papa,
do you think that swing is?"
I cannot guess exactly, but if you will climb up
the tree, and untie the rope from the branch, I can
take the rule and measure the length of the swing."
Fred did so, and Mr. Harmer having measured
the swing, found it to be about thirteen feet long.*
Why, papa," said George, when we once know
the number of swings that a string with a weight at
the end will make in a minute, that string is almost
as good as a clock."
No, not quite so good," said his father. "But
is there not something in a clock that swings back-
wards and forwards just like your swings and the
You mean the pendulum, papa," said Fred.
"Is that long wire, with a lump of brass at the
end, called a pendulum ?" asked George.
Yes," said Mr. Harmer; "the pendulum that

When practicable, what has just been described should be
verified by actual trial.

'-~--~~- -- --- --,---------

LI^L~L~-------i~ ~^_il-L-. .. _I~isPR~LIUI-_~ ~~


swings backwards and forwards in a clock is thirty-
nine inches in length, and measures the time exactly
like your little swing, and like the string with the
ball at the end of it."
"But, papa," said Fred, "how is the pendulum
kept going? there is no one to swing it backwards
and forwards as we do the swings ?"
"Do not you remember, Fred, that there is a
weight which hangs by the side of the pendulum;
this weight keeps the pendulum going, by pulling
the wheels round. One of the wheels pushes the
pendulum backwards and forwards. If there were
no pendulum, the weight would run down almost
Sas fast as it was wound up, and would pull all the
wheels round so fast as to, show no regular time
S at all; but while the weight makes the wheels
move, the pendulum prevents the wheels from run-
ning round too fast, and makes them move in proper
time. But come, let us go into the house, and I
will make you some little sketches to explain how
the weight is made to drive the pendulum backward
and forward, and how the pendulum prevents the
weight from running down too fast."
When they had got, into the house, Mr. Harmer
made the little drawings, and marked the different
parts with letters; and although George did not
understand everything, lie was pleased to point out
the letters in the drawings. Mr. Harmer told them

- ... I


that the first sketch was intended to 'show how the
pendulum Wvas moved.
"Look, Fred," said he, the pendulum wire P is
I bent into the shape of a hook
Sat the upper end, and is hooked
-q',. on the wire staple that I have
S r marked S, at the end of the
i.z-,: wooden frame at the top of the
clock. D is a wooden spindle
A called the verge, having a wire
w fixed at one end, turning in
ig. 1. a hole at E, and another wire
turning in a hole exactly opposite in the wooden
frame at the back of the clock. This last wire
marked G is bent as is shown in the drawing,
and is called tie crutch. The end of the
crutch at H is something like lilhook, and
the pendulum wire goes through the hook, so
that when the crutch is moved, the pendulum
Sis moved with it, and as the crutch is fastened
to the spindle D, you cannot move the spindle,
turning it partly round and back again, without
moving the pendulum."
"Oh, I understand that quite well," said Fred;
"the wires of the spindle are quite loose in both
holes, and if the spindle is touched the crutch must
move, and then that jogs the pendulum. Buit what
sets the spindle moving, papa?"


C You shall see. On the spindle D there is a
piece of bent tin or brass fastened, which at both
ends is so much bent
as to form two broad .,'
little hooks about \A
half an inch wide. ; f
Look at these larger -
sketches, and you
will observe their
shape better. These
hooks are paled )pa l-
*Tl eight.
lets. Now if the pal- W
lets are struck what
happens, Fred?"
The spindle will
he moved partly round, and that will make the
pendulum swing, answered Fred.
"Quite right," said his father. "Now look at
this wheel marked C, the edge of which is cut into
thirty notches forming teeth like the teeth of a
common saw. The pallets are placed a little above
the notched wheel C, and in such a position that
one of the two pallets must touch the wheel. When
the pendulum swings to the left hand, as in Fig. 3,
the right-hand pallet A falls into a notch on the
right-hand side of the wheel; and when the pen-
dulum swings to the right, as in Fig. 2, then the
left-hand pallet B falls into a notch on the left side

--- ----- -- --


of the wheel. Every time the pallet swings out of
the notch, one tooth escapes by the pallet; and the
wheel is therefore called the escapement wheel. Round
the spindle of the escapement wheel is wound a string
with a weight at the end of it. As the weight
unwinds the string, it pulls the wheel C round,
making the side of the notch or tooth press against
the pallet, which it pushes out; and thus the tooth
is allowed to escape from the pallet. The wheel
then turns a little way, but not more than half a
notch, for as soon as the pallet A is pushed out of
No. 1, the pallet B falls into No. 10. The pallets
do not touch the side of the teeth when they first
enter; the wheel, therefore, turns a little round
till the side of the notch strikes against the pallets,
and in so doing makes the little noise we call
ticking. Now try and explain to me the next move-
Why, papa, I should think," said Fred, that
after A has been pushed out of No. 1, and B has
fallen into No. 10, the weight, still pulling the
wheel round, must make it push the pallet B
out of No. 10, and move round half a notch. But
before the wheel can go any further, A must fall
into No. 2."
"Yes, that is quite right," said Mr. Harmer
"the pallet A falls into every notch, and takes one
swing of the pendulum, or one second to fall into

..___ ___ ~i__ __ ____ __i ___~_____ __~_ __~_____~_~ _~______ _~__ ____ ___ ~ __


the notch, and one second to come out again, that
is, two seconds to each of the thirty notches."
"Then, papa," said Fred, "when the escapement
wheel has gone once round, one minute must have
passed; because there are thirty notches in the
wheel, and each notch is two seconds escaping from
the pallet."
"Oh, I can see that," said George. "Twice thirty
are sixty, and there are sixty seconds in a minute."
"Well, now," said his father, "we must think of
some plan to show us when the wheel has gone once
round, without watching it all the time. If the wire
spindle of the escapement wheel were made to come
through to the front of the clock, we could fasten a
little index or hand, as it is called, to it, which would
of course move round as the wheel moved round.
Then if we were to draw a circle with sixty divisions
on the face of the clock, what would the index do?"
It would travel round the whole circle in a
minute," replied Fred, passing one division of it
every second. It would be a complete seconds
clock, papa, just like the doctor's watch, the second
hand of which goes once round in a minute. Oh,
how I should like to make a little seconds clock! I
always thought before that clock-work was very
difficult to understand; for whenever people do not
know how any little machine is contrived, they
always say,' It goes by clock-work;' but I really




think, papa, I could make a seconds clock, if you
would help me."
I will help you with pleasure," replied Mr.
Harmer, so far as to tell you the shapes and sizes
of the different parts. I have no doubt you will be
able to make one that will go for half an hour."
That will be capital, Fred," said George: "we
could get up by it in the morning, if mamma would
only wind up the weight when she calls us."
You will not require many materials, Fred,"
said Mr. Harmer; "the wood neatly planed from
the carpenter's, two small pieces of tin from the
tin-man's, a piece of iron wire, two or three screws,
and a few brads from the ironmonger, will not cost
together more than tenpence or a shilling."
"Oh, I do not mind spending that at all," answered
Fred; "1 should be so glad to succeed in making
the clock; but, papa, will you draw the exact shape
of the pieces, if you please, and tell me the sizes of
them ? I can call at the shops as we go to school,
and say what I want."
Mr. Harmer then gave him the sketches, and the
following directions :-*
"The wood, Fred, should be nice clean deal, of

These directions should not be read, except for use in making
a clock. If the directions are omitted, go on to page 178. If the
young mechanician find the escapement wheel too difficult to make,
he can procure one at small cost from a clockmaker.

I ill .~.~,1._~_..~_ ~__-- ----------,- --~- --------

.~.I ---~*UU-W1III~LI~~LCY~LL~UY~C)


the sort called pine, a quarter of an inch thick before
it is planed. It must be free from knots, and planed
smooth. You
must cut the
pieces according
to the shapes in
the drawings,
which are one-
sixth of the real

you the real sizes .j

of an inch. As b m o
the escapement "" ___
wheel and pal-i
llets are the m aost f i i
difficult to make,
I have drawn
them opt for you,
the real size.
"Tjhe wheel is to be made of thin tin, that it may
be easily cut with an old pair of scissors, and the
pallets are to be made of thick tin, that they may not
readily lose their shape. You will be able to judge
whether you have made these parts right by laying
them on the drawing, and seeing if they correspond
with it.

- -L __~*~_~------_-la-cI---I------------i- I---~-~-v-~--c~i--iI-~-T~--l ~I ----~--


"You may put a thin piece of writing-paper over
the drawing, and trace the teeth and the square hole,
and then stick the paper on the piece of tin which is
to form the wheel, and when dry, cut out the teeth
and the hole; or you may draw the shape of the
teeth and the hole on the tin itself with a ruler and
compasses; and as you like to use the compasses, I
will tell you how to do it.
Draw a circle on the tin two inches in diameter,
and divide the circle into thirty equal parts; these
will form the points of the teeth. To get the proper
shape of the teeth, observe that the front of the tooth
points over ten teeth, and the back of the tooth points
over fourteen teeth; the dotted lines in the drawing
will show you this plainly. .Do, not draw the lines
longer than the tooth, or the crossing of the lines will
confuse you. When you have cut the teeth, they
must be made as smooth as possible with a fine file,
and it will be better if the front of the teeth is
polished a little with a small key or a knitting
"Now take a thick piece of tin, four inches and
a half long, and half an inch wide, and bend it as
nearly to the shape of the pallets as possible. Begin
by making the pallet (B), then carefully bend the tin
till you have got round to the pallet (A); then file or
cut it off to the right length. When you have done
this, mark where the screw comes, and punch a hole


large enough to admit the screw which is to fix the
pallets to the verge. Pallets in general are made of
steel of the shape, No. 1, and in the common Dutch
clocks they are made in Nr2 r
the shape of No. 2; but
by fixing the pallets by a
screw to the top of the verge, and having a hole in
the top of the frame of the clock to admit a screw-
driver, you will be able to unscrew the pallets after
the clock is put together, and then by bending or
straightening the arms of the pallets, or the pallets
themselves, you will be able to adjust them till the
clock goes properly: for this part requires some
care, and you must not be disappointed if you do not
succeed in your first trial.
The verge or spindle to which the pallets are
fixed, is a slip of wood half an inch square and three
inches seven-eighths long. You must make a hole
with a brad-awl in the middle of each end. Into one
end is to be fixed a piece of wire t
about the thickness of a knitting 3
needle, projecting about one-eighth
of an inch; into the other end is to
be fixed the crooked piece of wire
called the crutch. In the middle of the verge you
must screw. the pallets.
The spindle of the escapement wheel is a
round slip of wood half an inch in diameter; one-half



than thirty-nine inches is, because the length of the
penduttim is counted from the hook to the middle
of the weight; for if a pendulum be made of a rod
of iron, without any bob, it must be about half as
long again. By sliding the bob up, you will make
the clock go faster, and by sliding it down, you make
it go slower.
Here are the four pieces which fbrm the frame of

the clock. The front or face
is four inches wide, and
four inches high to the cor-
ners, and the round part is
one inch and a-half higher.
In the middle is a small
tound hole, which it will
be well to burn with a hot
.- 1 -1

Front. Back.

J T.

wire aIter you nave borec
it with the awl; this is to
permit the wire of the
escapement wheel to come i
through. Jtist above the 4
number sixty' is another L
such hole for the pallet .- -
spindle or verge. These Top. Bottom.
holes must be exactly the same distance apart, as the
centre of the escapement wheel and the centre of the
verge-that is, one inch and three-quarters and one-
sixteenth of an inch. A line should be drawn at the

:I_ .: i. -- ---------------------------- ---------~pl----.. -----LI-l-


back of the face, four inches and three-quarters from
the foot, to guide you in putting on the top piece.
"The back is six inches and a half long, and one
inch and three-quarters wide; at four inches and
three-quarters from the foot is an oblong hole, half
an inch long, and a quarter of an inch wide; and
above this is a round hole, three-quarters of an inch
in diameter, to hang the clock against the wall. The
two dots are two holes for the wire of the verge and
the wire of the wheel spindle to turn in, and should
be marked to correspond exactly with the holes in the
clock's face.
"The top is five inches and a quarter long, and
one inch and three-quarters wide; at four inches
from the end it is reduced to half an inch, and is to
fit into the square-hole in the back. Two holes are
made in the narrow part, and by passing a bit of
string through them, and tying it nearly tight, it
will form a loop to hang the pendulum on. In the
middle of the top is a round hole, three-quarters of
an inch in diameter, to admit the screw-driver.
"The bottom is four inches wide, and five inches
and a half long; at four inches from the end a piece
is cut out, leaving two projections, one inch and a half
long, and three-quarters of an inch wide. When the
clock is hung up, the projections rest against the wall,
and the pendulum swings between them. A square
hole is cut in the bottom, two inches long and one

_1_ _ X_ II L~


inch wide, to allow the line to pass through, to which
the weight is fastened.
"The places where the nails are to come are
marked, and the best nails for the purpose are those
called three-quarters of an inch cut brads.
Now, to put it together.-Nail the lower edge of
the front to the bottom; then nail the upper part
of the front to the broad end of the top piece, taking
care that the under edge of the top piece is on the
line marked there. To get the verge and crutch in,
you must take the crutch out of the verge. When
you have done this, put the crutch through the upper
hole of the back piece, and again into the verge. Put
the escapement wheel and spindle into its place, and
nail the back to the top and bottom; then screw on
the pallets-and now we come to the weight which is
to keep the clock going. If you have no lead, twist
up three halfpence in a piece of paper, and tie one
end of the string to the twist; do the same with one
halfpenny, and tie it to the other end of the string:
pass the string over the notch in the wheel
spindle, letting the heavier weight hang per-
pendicularly through the square hole, and
let the other weight hang over the edge of
the bottom piece. Thus the strings will
not get entangled, and by taking one string in each
hand, you will easily raise the heavier weight to the
clock; which will-be like winding it up."


After this conversation, Fred procured the neces-
sary materials for the Seconds Clock. It was several
days,- however, before he finished his work, as he
could not give much time to it except in the even-
ings. At last, by exactly following his father's
directions, the little clock was completed, and the
two boys were delighted to hear it tick, tick,
exactly like a real clock. The card-board index
pointed to the seconds, and went round the circle
exactly in a minute. Fred happened to finish it
one evening at supper-time, and found it very con-
venient to boil two eggs by for himself and his
brother. The clock went exactly half an hour.*
Fred was now anxious to know how a clock was
to be constructed to go for several days, ard how
the hands were to be made to tell both minutes and
hours. Mr. Harmer said that it would take some
time to explain this, and to make the necessary draw-
ings, and that as it was now past nine o'clock, he
would tell them all about the minute and hour hands
another evening.

Several seconds clocks have been made by young persons
from this description,


___ __ __ __i____l_____


" WHAT are you reading in that thick book, Aunt
Lucy ? said Arthur Campbell: I think you have
been reading it a very long time."
I am reading an account of Sweden and Lapland,"
replied his aunt, which I have found very enter-
Oh! then will you read some of it to Godfrey
and me ; or, what we should like still better, tell us
some of the amusing stories out of it ?"
S"rYes, I will with pleasure, when I have finished t!he
volume; I shall not be above a quarter of an hour. I
wish to return the book to the library this evening,
and will ask you and Godfrey to take it for
rm e."




SWe shall like to do that," said Arthur; but
pray finish the book very quickly, aunt."
Aunt Lucy laughed at the instructions to finish
quickly, and proceeded with her book. When she had
arrived at the last word, she called her two nephews
to look at the numerous prints.
"Dr. Clarke's Travels in Sweden and Lapland,"
said Godfrey, reading the title aloud; "I suppose
he gives a -description of the great forests of
"Yes, these forests are so immense, that the
view of them strikes every traveller. Dr. Clarke
says that the King of Sweden might be called
the King of the Woods. Sometimes this forest
scenery is all at once changed for beautiful views of
broad cascades; many streams uniting together, and
roaring and foaming to the Gulf of Bothnia. Some-
times rude bridges, formed of trunks of trees, stripped
merely of the bark, are thrown across these cataracts."
I should be almost frightened to pass over them,"
said Arthur.
Oh, I should not think of that," said Godfrey;
"I should be delighted to look down upop such
immense waterfalls. Are there many mountains
in Sweden, aunt ? "
"Yes," replied his aunt; in the North there are
mountains, valleys, forests, lakes, riyers, and water.
falls. In the great forests, the underwood grows so

~aman _77 17 1 -1_I I 7a l
.- .. I I,. ~ ~ ~ ~ 3L~p~ ~

-- ---- -- -


luxuriantly, that the wildest animals find shelter
there, and among them the bear and the elk. Dr.
Clarke saw there also ants' nests of such prodigious
size, that till he had carefully examined them, he
could hardly believe it possible that insects could
have constructed them. They were four or five
feet high."
"That is not so large as the nests of the white
ants in Africa," said Arthur: "I think they are ten
or twelve feet'high."
"Yes," said Godfrey; "but they are the work of
ants in hot countries; I never heard of such large
ants' nests in cold climates before. Are they made
of clay or earth, like the nests of the white ants ?"
"No; they are made of small leaves, and the fibres
of the pine, heaped up together like a sugar-loaf.
Bears are very fond of the eggs of ants, and by the
havoc amongst the nests, the trace of the bear is fre-
quently discovered. There are other insects, how-
ever, which cause much greater annoyance than ants.
During the short summer of Lapland, the mosquitoes
are numerous there beyond description. Dr. Clarke
was obliged to wear two veils tied down over his face;
but that was not enough to guard his skin, for the mos-
quitoes pierced through the thick gloves that covered
his hands; and at last he was made so ill by their
attacks during the hot weather, that he consented to
have his hands, face, and legs smeared over with a

-. ,.- I

-- _-I

mixture of tgy andp cream, in the same way that the
natives tarred theirs."
"I should not have liked that at all," said Arthur.
"Go on, aunt."
Pray, give. ue tiqre to breathe, Arthur," said his
aunt, laughing.
When Dr. Clarke was travelling in Denmark, he
found that the nights lyere so light that he could
travel by night pA well as by day; for the sun rose
so soon after setting, that it was never darker than
what we call twilight. The farther he proceeded
north, the longer did the days become. There are
parts in the north of IIpland and Sweden, where
the sun in the middle of s-nmmer nevey sets, but may
be seen mt midnight."
"How very strange," said Arthur; "but how
delightful. I should like to have it light always,
and no night. Pid not Dr. Clare enjoy it ?"
No; he says that the coutinual glare was pain-
fu$, ap4 that he was quite glad, when ~ytumn re-
turned, to enjqy the darkqpps of an English night."
SIn what part of Lapland, aunt, is the sup seen
the longest at one time, without setting?" inquired
In the mpost northern part, as you might know if
you reflected. At the torth Cape it does not set-
tlat i1, is not out of Pight -fro~ the a~Sdle of May
to the end of July but on t4e Qther an4, the sut
f,0 4



~ T~-~~ T~~.~-_11V~)-- VCIY -~T-~IC-Tlpl~~~fZ*l ~ 1 1 I I erbr

---- ---------


ig fi V isible thede froiti he middle of November to
the &nd of January."
I wider whether the birds go td r ost in those
wonderful light nights," said Arthifr.
Dr. Clarke say9 that the s ripes Wee piping atl
night long, and the flowers blossoming at ii the day-
time. I thirik thee ate not many small bird itt
Sweden or Ltpland."
"I suppose the Laplanders travel in Winter time
by the light of the ntooti or star," said Godfrey.
"In England, our whiterI night ate very light, whet
the ground is covered with snow."
"Yes, they are so," replied his aunt: "but the
Laplanders have another hiihi of light-the Aurora
Borealis, or Northern Light M it i. called. Streams
of crimson light appeal af it fiing from the
northefti 0~6i f the Af Y it ifltt il iifete t1 whole
of the littfilft
"Ah! tditi1 t h t ame beautiful light thlit voyagers
see in the Afti 0tiMifl' aid Godfrey; ~ and now
and then a fM1Ait li~gt iM0110 g ti A iiBFra Borealis
is seen in this country, is it not, aunt ?"
-" Yes, I have witnessed it tWo 6r three tim"s, and
once. it was very brilliant; butt i s itgually pale, aind
Passes quickly away; it cannot ble cotnpated in beatity
to the Aurora Borealis of Lapland."
'I suppose the houses in Sweden are usually built of
wood," said Arthur," as there is sich a quantity of it?

w.-.--.1. -


"Yes, they are often built entirely of wood, with-
out even the use of a saw, plane, hammer, or nail;
an axe being the only tool employed. The trunks
of the trees are placed one above another, to form the
dwelling; moss is stuffed into the crevices to keep
out rain, and when completed the whole is tarred and
painted red. They cover the roof with the bark or
trees, which is pressed down by long poles laid across,
and these are kept in their places by heavy stones.
Grass will often grow to such a height on these roofs,
that they are like meadows on the house-tops.

Every dwelling has by the side of it a high rack
for drying the unripened corn. These racks become
more frequent as you approach the North, because
the short summers prevent the corn from ever being
properly ripened. In the south of Sweden wheat
is grown; but in the north barley and rye are the
: .

r- .~: -



only kinds of corn that will grow and ripen sufficiently
to be usable for food."
"What a trouble to dry the produce of a large
field in this manner !" said Godfrey. Is the bread
good that is made from this corn?"
"Not what you and I should call good," replied his
aunt. The rye or barley meal is made into great cakes,
which are strung upon rods and placed under the roof
of every house, so that they can easily be taken down
when wanted. Even these hard cakes are by no
means the worst bread in Sweden; for in the most
northern parts of Swedish Lapland, the bread con-
sists chiefly of the inner bark of the fir-tree pounded
and mixed with chaff and a very little barley meal,
Some of this bread Dr. Clarke brought into England,
and gave to a friend. Many years afterwards, at
a sale of a collection of minerals, a piece of this
very bread was sold by mistake as a particular kind
of stone, called rock leather."
Well, that was curious," said Arthur. What
strange stuff it must have been !"
Yes: Dr. Clarke's servant, as he travelled north-
ward, was always longing for the bread which he had
refused to eat in the last province. Now get your
little Atlas out, for I want to show you the position
of Tornea, from which place the wild part of the
country commences, and which is nearly the most
southern town that the Laplanders frequent."

I ,
-- --l~r .- r -~-~B~emL~C~eAB~ICnrru-


__ 1


SI am glad we have come to the Laplanders,"
said Arthur; "I have been longing to i~r of Dr.
Clarke's meeting with them. Make haste, Godfrey;
have you got the Atlas ?'
"Yes; and here a thpe n:p pf Norway wd
Sweden," said Godfrey, retrying fro the book-
ease. Tpraea,--let me see-it is pa the shores of
the Gulf of Bothnia, at the most northern pArt. Is
not that gulf frozen oQyve in the winter, a.t ?"
"Every winter, I believe, Godfrey; #44 this is
taken advantage of by the inhabitants of the goast;
for when they require to visit the opposite ahore,
they travel over the ice in their sledges. The first
thing that struck Dr. Clarke on his approach to
Tornea was the appearance of the pines, birch,
aspen, and other trees, which were scarcely bigger
than shrubs; but the beauty of the flowers made
am nds for the piay aspect o the trees; Hte banks
of the lakes and rivers being eoverey with .h~,
besides abundance of strawberries, dewberries, and
'' And what kind of a place is Tornea ? said
A' It is so different from any town we se Mi
England," replied Aunt Lucy, that Dr. .Clarke sgys,
you might easily imagine, the abole town being buiLt
' of logs, that y-o were in the midst of fggot s tks
and piles of timber heaped for deportation "

.... :, .

)7`~-"; c'" ~RR~r~43~F--4nn~gt%FlTll~sB~B(l~ll~ihj~P -rb~iP +~~~
f C~; '. .Ivcj-ili .- -ryu-l-


"Exportation,-that is sending things out of a
country," said Arthur.
Yes; the merchants of Tornea export the skins
of reindeer, bears, foxes, and wild-cats to Stock-
holm and Russia, besides iron, deal planks, tar, and
butter. It is one of the AitMt urious and interest-
ing sights to see th& WiArs dtpart for their annual
tour among the thOuntains Atd woods, to traffic
with the Laplanderk' Tvey generally start in the
winter. Each mercha IS A n his service from
five to six hundred 0'kter; thirty Laplanders to
tend them, and severMl 4~er servants. The train
of one merchant alon Wi60 sometimes extend to the
distance of tw g6 ta s~iles. 'they carry with
them all kini4 '& WidatWs for thir own -se, and
cloth, linen, brandy, adA YVl%" taate in the form of
drinking-cups and spoons, 'to exchange with the
Laplanders for the furs and deer-skins."
"Look," continued his aunt, "here is a print of
the first Lapland woman that Dr. Clarke met with."
The baby looks as if it were in a fiddle case,"
said Arthur. "Poor litth thing! can it like to be
there ? "
"1 Dr. larke says that thei infants appeared Very
comfortable," replied his raint. "The case or cradle
is well lined with the hair of the reindeerr and soft
moss, and the strings across the top protect the fhce
-of the child frbm injury. When the mother is busy

I -- ~Tl~~?h,*-Vtll~_~~;~*I~?C Rnl~DP~.4LPri~9C.`--^.'7x11~ -

- -I- ---------I -- -- -1 -1 -----. -.-----~~ ---- ~-~--.--


she hangs up the case to a tree, or to some part of
tire hut, and as it easily rocks with the breeze, the
baby is soon hushed, even if it cries for a moment.

The dress of the woman is made of sheep's skin, with
the wool turned inside, and bound round the waist
by a blue sash. The features of both men and
women among the Laplanders are coarse and ugly;
they have wide mouths, with dark complexions,
differing very much from the Swedes. The Lap-
landers are gentle and kind in their dispositions,
hospitable to strangers, and fond of their own
country. Most of them are forced to lead a ram-
bling life, to find pasture for their large fldcks of




reindeer. Very few of the Laplanders cultivate the
ground, and live in log-houses like the Swedes."
"Did Dr. Clarke ever go into the Lapland huts ?"
said Arthur.
"Yes, frequently; and he says that the richest
Laplander has scarcely a better habitation than the
poorest. A few poles are fastened together at the
top, and spread out so as to make a circle on the
ground; the poles are then merely covered with
coarse cloth or skins. The ground is strewed with
fir branches, instead of a carpet, and the fire is placed
in the middle. Round this fire the whole family
sleep, wrapped in deer-skins. The reindeer are
kept in enclosures near the hut, and are often very
tame. Each hut has a dairy attached to it."
"A dairy !" said Godfrey. "Why, what kind of a
building can that be? not much like our English
dairies, I suppose ?"
No; the Lapland dairy consists merely of a shelf
raised between two trees, supported by the stems,
and overshadowed by the branches. On this shelf
the curds and cheese made from the milk of the
reindeer are placed."
Have the Laplanders no cows ?" said Arthur.
"Only in some parts of Lapland, Arthur; and there
the cows are very small; but they produce delicious
milk. They are fed on young branches of trees, and
on the lichen, which is called the reindeer moss."


"Oh! that is the io6ss that I head a visitor talk
to maimma about the other ahy sa1ti Godfrey. He
showed mamma soge grey lichen that h6 toitA on
Hounslow Heath, which he said was, the tiMe kind
that the reindeer feed on in LapItal ; atiA then he
told n'ianma how clever the reindeer wre in hnhtt
ing oit their food froin beneath thte nh6w. He s~id
that, however thick the snow might be, a reindeer
was sure to discoVet it; md thAt he works and works
away with his ~Pfoe-feet till h'e has scrathi-ed it up."
"1 believe," said Aunt Ltuy, that the rein-deer
moss may be found in several parts of 1England, and
if it be so good for the food of cows in Lapland, it is
a pity that it is not used for that-purpose iH EnglaAd.
Dr. Clarke was not aware that it grew in this
country; but he recommended that it should be
brought over from Lpland for winter food for onti
cattle, for even then it would be cheaper than bty."
How dreary aid desolate those great forests must
look in the winter-tithe!" said Godfrey. i ftink the
poor Laplander muiist be glad to shut himsfef up it
his hut and sleep the time aaway!"
On the contrary, Godfrey, the winter is their
most active time; all the fairs are then held, ind at
stated places they meet the merchants firidm Ahe casts
of Norway and thhe Gulf of Bothnia. All is cheer-
fulness asd activity. Even the children take their\
part in the 6ccti6adions. The Whole family -staft '\

LLwL *

gE expedition together, each w-a beipg entrusted with
a tin of reindeer and sledges. Children of pine
y~g s 9d a~e sometimes allowed to conduct a raid, as
ach train belonging to the whole caravan is called.
These little boys ad girls v~IJ manage a Jpng train
ofAfedges laen with merchandise, drawn by as many
as fifteen reindeer, ald Rnly fastened together by We
log line. From the great rapidity with w,44h they
travel, accidents yill soi.eimes happen, but in gene-
ral the guides show so much cleverness in auviding ll
obst.cfes, that tis mode of travlling is as ,fe as it
is delightful. The ieindl- r will endure mpor fatigue,
I believe, than aln ost ny .other animal. Many re-
markable stories are told of the length of their jour-
aeys and their great fleetness. Dr. Clarke tmentites
seeing two reindeer, which the Laplanders did not
think particularly strong or fleet, 1hat had travelled
ne hundred and fifty miles in ineteen hoprs."
"That would be very nearly eight miles an or,
ifhey did not stop oIce to eat or rest," said Godfrey.
"Do the Laplanders eve ride on them, ant, or will
the reindeer a1y dra ? "
"The Lapl3eders occasionally rie on them and
Dr. Clarke trja to do ao, ut 4e was always out-
stripped by he Lapleaders, who were exceedingly
amused at bs %wkwrdjess, Whep Dr. Clarke was
at Enontekis, a village leAwe hundred miles to the
north of Trfnea, he deteteainm to entertain a great

c. -. I-.

C*L--~--r -----C'-- --



number of the Laplanders with the sight of a bal-
loon. It took him three days to make it, as it was
very large, measuring nearly seventeen feet in height
and fifty feet in circumference. It was made of
white paper, with scarlet ornaments. Notice was
sent over all the country to the distance of forty
miles, and when the day of the exhibition arrived,
the Laplanders flocked in great numbers to the ap-
pointed place. Unfortunately, the wind proved
strong, and the Laplanders seeing the ballooil begin
to move, caught hold of the sides, and a rent being
made, it fell to the ground. This accident caused
great disappointment, but the Laplanders resolved
to remain on the spot all night, if necessary, while
Dr. Clarke mended the balloon. This was soon done,
and in due time it rose majestically in the air, to the
great astonishment and even terror of the Laplanders,
who, equally frightened with their own reindeer,
scampered away in all directions."
What fun !" exclaimed Arthur; how I should
have liked to have been there "
What, to see the fright of the Laplanders!" said
his aunt: "they would not be much indebted to
you. The next sight, however, pleased them much
better: after the balloon had fallen, Dr. Clarke
hoisted a large paper kite which he had made for
the children of a Swedish family, by whom he had
been very kindly treated. Old and young, men,

I ~c~
*--,-.;. I .-I -.-. -r .- .- ...., 1 -.,. -

-- ---- ;.,I,.-_ .,~..~

-w-uL~---------r~-rrCi-*r~-~-~~rr.- --- --L--- -- 111 --

l-r--.~b~~lYY I-L~ i~-~~~- :(-L-I~CL~_II~CdLT-~L--YT ~~LL ~5WI~~LC~~CI~L~IIII~BL~1CI~;~;I-~~


number of the Laplanders with the sight of a bal-
loon. It took him three days to make it, as it was
very large, measuring nearly seventeen feet in height
and fifty feet in circumference. It was made of
white paper, with scarlet ornaments. Notice was
sent over all the country to the distance of forty
miles, and when the day of the exhibition arrived,
the Laplanders flocked in great numbers to the ap-
pointed place. Unfortunately, the wind proved
strong, and the Laplanders seeing the balloori begin
to move, caught hold of the sides, and a rent being
made, it fell to the ground. This accident caused
great disappointment, but the Laplanders resolved
to remain on the spot all night, if necessary, while
Dr. Clarke mended the balloon. This was soon done,
and in due time it rose majestically in the air, to the
great astonishment and even terror of the Laplanders,
who, equally frightened with their own reindeer,
scampered away in all directions."
What fun !" exclaimed Arthur; how I should
have liked to have been there I
What, to see the fright of the Laplanders !" said
his aunt: "they would not be much indebted to
you. The next sight, however, pleased them much
better: after the balloon had fallen, Dr. Clarke
hoisted a large paper kite which he had made for
the children of a Swedish family, by whom he had
been very kindly treated. Old and young, men,

VI---- --r-- ~ -~~lIL-i-~---l ~~rrn-.~.rr~--r ---.C-- ia r-r r- ~_-~r~-- --.c;.~ ; -- --^r -- iv


I~rk. -- ~z ~li~L~Wu-L 1~~ --r~. ~--Y~- .. L--)-`--.~~url~ :-_--~L-p-P~Y~CL P~P- --I*L-jL~eCYYrL~~-C*y~Jly-~Y3~i~ij


and children, expressed their joy by capering
rspeaking, all coming in turn to lay hold of the
and bursting into fits of laughter when they
#,Bt the string was pulled by the kite."
'I ['wonder the kite was not let go amongst them
Said Arthur; "but I suppose Dr. Clarke took
care not to give it quite up to them. How
Their little short figures wrapped in furs must
.P.elooked, jumping and capering about! You have
$i ipld us anything about the wolves, aunt. I
there were a great many of them in Lapland."
s:q .gg t &r.e are, Arthur. Many Laplanders
i^itheird .of reindeer nearly destroyed
ii r, During one year in particular, when the
... l were exceedingly numerous, some of the Lap-
|: lers, who possessed twelve or fifteen hundred
eindeer, lost between six and seven hundred by
S.these fierce animals. In some parts of Lapland, the
first question one traveller asks of another, is, 'Have
.the wolves molested you ?" so frequent are their
attacks. After travelling through wild districts with-
out roads, and without any of the conveniences and
comforts of civilized Europe, Dr. Clarke was very
glad to return to Tornea, the town which you remem-
ber he said looked like a collection of faggot stacks.
There he found abundance of food, wholesome at
all events, if not of the same kind that he had been
accustomed to in England, and his health, which
x. 3.9 193
^ :.


-C~F~"~L*"~L~-~.~-~.~c~e_i~c~~ ---r~n

had been much injured by the many hardships
that he had undergone, now rebrned, and made
everything appear bright and -agreeable to him..
He found a few of the inhabitant acquainted
with natural history; and indeed, both in Tornea
and in -ther towns of Sweden, he had been sur-
prised .at the beauty of the collections of native
birds, insects, and wild animals. While he was at
Tornea, he sent to an apoteeary's for some pre-
served Arctic raspberries. They were brought by a
boy who had neither shoes nor stockings. Dr.
Clarke was, at the time, looking over his books of
dried plants, and to his great surprise, the boy
named every plant by its Latin name, and mentioned
where each was to be found. This boy was the son
of a poor widow, of the name of Pyppon, who having
given him the best education she could, had placed
him with an apothecary as an apprentice. The
apothecary was fond of natural history, but would
not allow his apprentice to study it. He said that it
interrupted the business of the shop. The conse-
quence was, that young Pyppon carried on his studies
unknown to his master, by concealing his books and
ihis plants, and by rising every morning at three
o'clock, is order that he might snatch a few hours
of study before his services were required in the
shop. If he happened to find in his bare-footed
rambles a new plant, or a new insect, he was com-

,__ ,

ih-- - ^ ^ x .. . ^ ^ .




j~:_hW.it i hi~ hat, and thus bear it to bhi

m ~t the master ever f nd him out ?

i re length discovered the boxes of insects,
i shet sH tiwed Pyppon to keep his curiosities
du shop be atese they attracted the notice of eus-
Sb. l ie he had the meanness to show them as
S t 6f h cwn collecting."
O ) tw thlRho6* est,? erxetaired Godfrey; "what
1 I af feiOw e # idost have been "
64 Q Wd ^ dt neW Pylppteb hte hirk?" said Arthur.
W ^ho e'ufevlk(ayd ifh him."

p ? w"a' o6Wged to stay with him, or give
up ope of being a doctor. There was no other

i iapghery for wates and miles round. Pyppon bore
p tiently "any other hardships, that he might not
give.pain to his mother, by complaining of treatment
Air.i she dmald not alter for hin. During six
yeate that he had been with the apothecary, he had
never had a single holiday, imr any other recreation,
thAM his sifimer morning scampers after a flower
a. as insect. -ou itay imagine, thereore, his
pleasure,.when Dr. Clarke prevailed oni his master
ft spare him to go with himself and a friend to fihe
Ktemi thir In the highest spirits Pyppon took hid
t fka the wasgoft, driesed for the first time in a
coat and shoes and stockings. Long, however, be-
39-2 1
* ^ ; ^- .. __ . _

i. r--
1 :t
i,, :
r. -

- ---




fore they arrived at the fair, he was obliged to
throw them aside, from the inconvenience they
occasioned him. At one moment the horses could
hardly go quick enough to please him; at another
he was longing to stop them, to run after some plant
that he espied on a bank; nothing could surpass his
gaiety and pleasure. After the fair was over, he
was forced to part with Dr. Clarke, who was on the
point of returning to England. When the poor lad
saw him preparing to depart, the tears rolled down
his cheeks, nor could Dr. Clarke prevail on him to
name any present he might wish for. At length he
said, Should you remember me when you return
to England, send me a dried plant of the sun-dew,
which travellers assure me grows in your country."
"I know the sun-dew," said Godfrey; the leaves
close up when touched, like the Venus' fly-trap.
Did Pyppon receive it?"
I do not know for certain," replied his aunt;
" but from the known kindness of Dr. Clarke,, I
should think it most probable."
I wish Pyppon could have come to England
with Dr. Clarke," said Arthur. Do you know any-
thing more about him?"
No, I do not, Arthur; and now I think I have
told you all that you will feel particularly interested
about, and I will thank you to take the book back to
the library."

RP&MVMi- 7mi ""-""rrrm~ ~ _,Iie p


S" Oh, yes, I will; but are you sure there is no

more we should like ?"
There is much more that you will like when you
are older, but not now."
Well, aunt, thank you for telling us so much
from the book," said Godfrey. I have been very
much entertained;" and he ran out of the room to
put on his cap and cloak to comply with his aunt's

-.-- ... .. _
-c-- -. -- _._ -__._4 j--

-- HUT. ---=---:__ __ _



1~ _ _


THERE was a little boy named Thomas, who endea-
voured always to behave well, and who was careful
to mind what was said to him. He liked to be
thought well of by his father and his other friends.
It gave him great pleasure when he heard his father
say, I can trust Thomas : he always does as he is
bid, and he always spe the tratk"
During the summer, Th~Ft:es ii feather were
in the habit of taking a walk together before break-
fast; and the boy liked the walk very much, for
the air was fresh and sweet, the dew sparkled
brightly on the grase and flers, the birds sang
gaily, and his fathe eplaine everyftbi that
appeared new or stge to him.
One morning, when Thomas tapped at his kther's
bed-room door to klow if he was reldy to go out, he
found ifat his fatbhe had a bad head-aee, and
8 -rilat L be able to walk before breakfast. "But,
Thomasy said his father, there is no reason why
you should bhe deprived. of your walk; you are a
steady boy, and I will trust you to go by yourself."
Papa," said Thomas, I should like to go very


I _Il__ I I____


mech sa=d I will take care to do nothing that I
damd anot do if We were walking together."
go having his father's permission to take a walk
by himself, Thtomas ran down to the kitchen for a
iece of bread, which he put into his pocket, intend-
ing to eat it case he should be hungry before he
get Bine. He then set off.
He s on .came to some pleasant fields, full of
dasies and buttercups, and he saw the bees flying
atd tmuimming about the flowers. Ue heard the
cnekto sing, and wished very much to discover
'is~A editeati &ingulaa bird was; but although he
ieoked carefully at the trees and hedges, he could
niot find out the cuckoo's hiding-place.
At the end of the second field there was a stile.
This he climbed over, and he was glad to see that he
should soon come to another, for he liked to climb
over stiles.
The next field he came into was a corn-field. The
blades of corn were very young, and Thomas was
careful to wallk only wpon the path.
After the corn-fied, the path led through :a turnip
field, and at the end of the turnip field was a high
gate with five bars, and no stile. So Thomas was
obliged to climb over the gate. He did this very
carefully, for fear he should miss his footing and
fall. He soon jumped down on the other side, and
found himself in a pleasant, green, shady lane.


; .'

'i *:.-




-- ---------------------






Some large trunks of trees were lying upon the
ground to dry, before they were used as timber, and
Thomas sat down upon one of them. A little way
on he saw a pond with four ducks swimming about
in it. Here he stood a few minutes looking at the
ducks, and he broke off four small pieces of bread,
which he threw to them. He was much amused
to see how greedily the ducks gobbled up the bread.
He then walked down the lane, and hearing the
sound of wheels rattling along, he knew he must be
near the high road.
Just as he came to the corner of the lane by the high
road, he saw a poor dog lying on the ground nearly
dead. It appeared to be very ill, and lay quite still.
It was so thin that all the bones of its body were
marked upon the skin, and its eyes were almost closed.
Poor creature!" cried Thomas, what is the
matter with you?"
As Thomas said this, the poor half-starved dog
opened his eyes, lifted up his head a little from the
ground, and looked at him in a very piteous manner.
Thomas felt quite sorry for the dog. Can he want
food?" said he to himself: and he pulled out his
piece of bread, which he had never thought of eat-
ing during his pleasant ramble.
When the dog saw the bread, he moved his tail as
if trying to wag it, and he strove to get up, but was
so weak that he could not.





Poor fellow !" said Thomas, are you hungry?
then you shall have some of my bread." And so
Saying, he broke off a small piece and held it close to
the dog's mouth. The dog snapped it up, and Tho-
mas broke off another bit and gave it to him. The
dog ate it eagerly, and looked veiy anxiously at the
kind boy for more.
W hen he had had three or four bits more, he
made an effort to stand, but he was still so weak
*h-at he could not. As soon as he got up, he fell
:SAi,. e again; but he could wag his tail a
J- at that Thomas was pleased, thinking it a
sign that the dog was getting better.
He sat down on the grass by the dog, and broke
him off some more bread. The dog ate readily all
that his young friend gave him. But Thomas was
wise, and fed him with a sparing hand, for he knew
it was dangerous to eat heartily after long fasting.
In a few minutes the dog once more tried to raise
himself on his legs, and was able to do so.
Thomas was now quite delighted. He remem-
bered the pond that he had left a little way off in
the lane, and he thought the dog would like some
water. But how was he to get the dog to the pond?
The dog could not walk, for he was still too weak.
I will carry him to the pond," thought the kind
little boy, if he will let me;" and he took up the
dog in his arms.
.... ..._ ._ .,_ -_

_ _I ~


Thomas found the dog was almost too heavy for
him to carry, although he was so thin and ill. But
he stuceeded in carrying him to the pond, and
placed the poor weak beast so that he might drilk
some of the water easily.
The dog lapped up a little water; then looked in
the boy's face,' wagged his tail, and tried to show
how much he thanked himn for his kindness.
Thomas gave him some more bread when he had
done drinking, and soon had the pleasure to see that
the dog could walk, although but slowly and with
difficAlty. It was now time for Thomas to think of
returning home; so he patted his lean friend gently
on the head, and, wishing him goodbye, began to
walk homeward.
Thomas had not walked far along the high road,
when he was surprised to, find the little dog following
him as fast as his weak legs would let him. Poor
creature !" said Thomas, is this the way in which
you try to thank me for the breakfast you have
had?"-and so saying, he stroked the dog, who
wagged his tail and rubbed his head against him.
"But I cannot stop to play with you now," said
-Thoeas, "for my father expects me to be at home;
so good-bye, little dog, good-bye!" and once more
Thomas walked on. But the dog would not leave
him, but continued to follow him until he' arrived
at the gate of his father's house.

1L~L~I~.~E~_u.-;~?cir~c- 1;:-- -~5--~-~ --- -- --- i~ Ic-71~--jir~Qfiis~e9iSiPSarsPrra Irrsllaa~lsmr*s~-raA


;ip father was walking in the garden when
Thomas arrived, and, as soon as he saw him, came
t@ open the gate. He let Thomas in, hut took no
notice of the dog, who, on being shut out, sat at the
gat wkininig most piteously.
0 Dear father," said Thomas, will not you let
aitad~ d~og come in?"
.'? said his father; I do not want the dog.
.iow came te there ? Why should we let him in ?"
e-OaN as, ahis father all that had happened, and
Si^t~Adt4irow him home; and he said,
: po~i or .creature is so grateful to me that he does
not like to leave me."
"E You have certainly behaved very kindly to this
little dog," said his father; but what are we to do
with im ? How are we to feed him ? I am not
rich, and have no money to throw away on dogs."
If you will be so kind as to let me keep this
dog," said Thomas, I will buy the meat and biscuit
that 1h wilt want out of my own money."
SBut wAe haIe no kennel for him to be in at
night," said his father, and I cannot allow him to
be itF the house."
"Dear father," said Thomas, I can make him a
kenneL lHe will not want one while the summer
lasts, but can sleep in the open air. In the mean-
time, I can make a kennel, and have it ready by the
time winter comes. Will von give me leave ?V

I -2*---- -II -~ ----" ---


Thomas's father, who always wished to indulge
his son in everything reasonable, complied with his
request. Happy Thomas! how eagerly he ran and
opened the gate The dog frisked in as well as he
was able, licked Thomas's hands, and lay down at
his feet. But he did not lie there long; he was
quite restless with joy, rubbed his head on his young
master's shoes, and tried to show his gratitude in
every possible way that a dog could. Thomas
seemed fully to share in the dog's happiness, and,
after caressing him a little, he put him in the yard,
and, giving him a bone, he went to get his own
All breakfast time Thomas talked about the dog
and the kennel that he intended to make for him.
When he had finished his lessons, he put on his hat,
called his dog, and went to the cottage of a car-
penter who lived near, to ask him some questions
about the kennel.
Thomas had been very kind to this carpenter, and
had often lent a few playthings to his children, and
also some of his books, so that the carpenter was
always glad to oblige him; and when Thomas Ifegan
to ask him about the dog's kennel, he did not send
him away, but told him in what way to set to work
to make one. "And, Master Thomas," said he, "I
will come, if you like, and show you how to do it,
when I have finished my day's work."



S:Thomas thanked the carpenter very much for his
kindness, and went home quite happy.
.'In the evening the carpenter came according to
his promise, and brought some pieces of wood with
SHere, Thomas," said he, you have been very
kiad to my children, and I am happy to be able to
oo:you a little kindness in return; and, therefore, I
have brought these pieces of wood as a present to
19:. they will serve for part of the kennel."
~:41 i hie thanks to the carpenter, and
hieyT egan lo woik' at the kennel together. The
carpenter told him to saw the pieces of wood with
which to make the sides all of the same length, and,
for this purpose, to measure with the foot-rule; so
Thomas took the foot-rule, which he saw was divided
into twelve parts, called inches, and measured care-
fully the length that he required.
When the piece of wood was sawed completely
through, Thomas found that he had in his hand a
piece measuring twenty-six inches, which was the
exact length that he wanted.
The carpenter now wished Thomas good-bye, first
telling him to go on measuring and sawing as he
had done, till he had as many pieces of wood as he
would require for the sides of his kennel, and pro-
jnised to come and help him again, when he should
have the wood prepared for use. Thomas continued

-.- ,

E~n~gi~z~l~ rr r


steadily at his work after the carpenter had gone, his
little dog sitting close to him.
When it began to get dark, Thomas put the rule
and saw carefully by, and gave Rover-for that was
the name by which he called the dog-his supper,
but felt sorry that he could not provide him with a
comfortable bed for the night, If it should rain,"
said he to himself, my poor dog will get wet.
What can I cover him with ?"
So he began to look about, and at last remembered
that his mother had an old barrel that had held
cranberries in the winter, but which was now empty.
As soon as he thought of this barrel, he ran into
the house, the dog with him, and asked his mother if
she would lend him the barrel to make a bed in for
his dog, until he had finished the keineL
His mother willingly gave him the barrel, and
Thomas took it into the yard, laid it on one side,
and put a little clean straw in it. Rover seemed to
guess what his kind master was doing for him.
He went and curled himself round in the straw
when it was ready, and Thomas had the pleasure
of seeing him comfoi'tably housed for the night.
He worked every day at the kennel, the carpenter
helping him now and then, and showing him how
to nail the different parts together, and to plane the
pieces of wood, so that they might be quite smooth,
and that no splinters might be left in them.



About the middle of the summer the kennel was
completed; and Thomas asked his father to look at
it His father went to the shed, and was much
pleased to, see how neatly the work had been
finished. "But, Thomas," said he, this wood will
S ws become rotten in the open air."
A What. sbhll I do to hinder its becoming
t.e.a. OXthfti people's kennels do not rot," said
C&fBeenais they pai t -t anEd yoe must either
iia --: "gSi,- replied Mis father. "How shall
amdiged- do that ?"
SI will buy some paint at the painter's," said the
boy; and then I can paint it myself."
So Thomas went to the painter, and told him that
he wanted some p8ait Sl what for. But what
colour will you have ?' said the painter.
"Oh! never mind," replied Thomas, any colour
will do."
I don't think you meam exaCt what you say,"
said the paiAter laughing S~ii you like your
kennel t e painted -tbht ybRiw .
IitAed I should irs Ait ght Thnmas, and,
after sa little hesitation as if nalir to fix upon a
colour, 6M asked the pldtr we t coflor he would
adviM Ih~al6 ha~ e.
The paniter told him kennels were usually
painted dark green, or slate colour.
,- nyYl. t__. .__ o


"Well, then," said Thomas, "I will have slate
The painter immediately mixed as much paint as
the kennel required, and lent Thomas a brush to
put on the paint with.
Thomas paid for the paint, returned home, and
painted his kennel; and when the paint was dry,
and the smell had gone off, he put his dog into it.
It was not necessary for his mother to ask for her
cranberry barrel, for Thomas was careful to return
it to her as soon as he had done with it; as he was
also to take the brush back to the painter. His little
dog grew lip to be a fine animal, and was much
attached to his master.


,T---l +; ,


"6 How troublesome the gnats are, papa!" said
Richard Bourne, as his father and he were enjoying
th~ light breeze in their garden one evening, after a
very hot day. I have been stung two or three
times already. See, there is a complete column of
illg over that pear-tree. What a
~inmftdg they make I"
C" Yes," said his father, and in countries where
gnats abound much more than they do in this coun-
try, that hum is dreaded as much, or even more than
the roar of the lion."
Indeed! Why, painful as is the sting of a gnat,
I think I could get used to it; at least, I think I
should be much more frightened by the roar of a lion
than the insignificant hum of these little insects."
Do not you recollect reading, Richard, that Dr.
Clarke, when in Lapland, was forced to cover his
body with pitch and tar, to prevent the attacks of these
insignificant insects, as you call them. Humboldt,
1%also, in his travels in South America, gives a descrip-
tion of the dreadful pain the natives and travellers
suffer from the continual bites of different kinds of
gnats. I thought you had read his account."

r __


No," replied Richard; I read his description
of the electrical eels; but, if you remember, papa,
I went from home for a month the day after you had
marked that book for me, and I have forgotten it
since my return. I will go and fetch it now, and read
about the gnats while they are dancing before me."
Richard fetched the book, and seating himself on
a garden seat near his father, read the following
account by Baron Humboldt:-
Persons who have not navigated the great rivers
in the northern part of South America, for instance,
the Oronoco and the river Mfagdalena, can scarcely
believe how,. without inteiarrptfi"n, at every instant of
your life, you may be toirme-mtel by ins sete flying i
the air, and how the multitude of these little ani-
mals may render vast regions almost uninhabitable.
However accustomed you may be to endure pain
without complaint, however lively an interest you
take in your occupations, it is impossible not to be
disturbed by the mosquitoes (small venomous flies),
and the zancndoes (a large species of gnat), which
cover the face and hands, pierce the clothes with
their long sucker in 'the form of a needle, and get-
tiagg hitothe mouth and nostrils, set you coughing
and simezing ~ whenever you attempt to speak in the
open air. In the villages on the banks of the river
Oronoco, which_ are surrounded by immense forests,
tlie plague of the fies affords- a-m eridless subject of

Ic--~.~ ~ii~~;~~pdPYlr-~-r ~C. ~ .~-- ~~:~~SLCI~L~ -e~j --.- .. ..-~Ct~P~: ~PaaasLiC



onversation. When two persons meet in the morn-
ing, the first questions they address to each other
are, How did you find the zancudoes during the
night ? How are we to-day for the mosquitoes ?'"
F" Papa," said Richard, as he paused reading for a
anoent, 0' that reminds one of the question about
t, wiolrks in some parts of Lapland-' Have the
-*ai molested you during the night?'"
Or the Chinese form of politeness," observed Mr.
,RsCAme' w1wikA w.as nspiwo7 hi ChiS a i a&in ent
Au n ia nnodled bhy the serpents
i'i~s-6 b? It is a comfort to think, Richard, that
aar country is cleared of thick dense forests; and that
the inhabitants are freed from such enemies as the
wolf, the serpent, and the mosquito. None of these
are found sufficiently numerous to be troublesome in
high, dry lands, remote from forests and rivers. But
go on with Baron Humboldt's interesting account."
Richard continued: In some parts of the shores
of the Oronaoo, the air from the surface of the
ground, to the height of fifteen ax tweoty feet, is
filled with venomous insects, like a thiek vapour.
What appeared to us very remarkable, and is a fact
known to all Europeans residing here, is, that the
different kinds do not associate together; and that
at different parts of the day you are stung by distinct
species. Every time that the scene changes, you
have a few minutes, often a quarter of an hbouar of


I --.-I -- ~- ._ -c~';~i-~35~Sp~l




--------- -- --- ------- .-. -.-.-..--. --~.- ----. ._._~_~~___ ~~__ __ __


repose, as the insects that disappear have not their
places instantly supplied in equal numbers by their
successors. In the same season, and at the same
place, we could guess blindfold the hour of the day or
night by the hum of the insects and by their stings,
the pain of which differs according to the nature of
the poison that each insect deposits in the wound.
Often I have seen the limbs of Europeans, long resi-
dent in these climates, so speckled with repeated
stings, that it was difficult to recognize the whiteness
of the skin through the spots of coagulated blood.
How comfortable must people be in the moon,'
said an Indian one day; she looks so beautiful and
so clear that she must be free from mosquitoes.'
The means that are employed to escape from
these little animals are very extraordinary. One
of our party, a European, constructed, on a scaffold-
ing of the trunks of palm-trees, a small apartment in
which he could breathe more freely. To this we
went up in the evening by means of a ladder, to
dry our plants and write our journal.
At Maypures, a town on the Oronoco, the In-
dians quit the village at night to go and sleep on the
little islets in the midst of the cataracts. There
they enjoy some rest, for the mosquitoes appear to
shun air loaded with vapour.
The Indians of the Upper Oronoco, on seeing
that my companion, Mr. Bonpland, could not pre-

~`--~-~------- ---- -I


pare his herbal on account of the continual torrent
of mosquitoes, invited him to enter their ovens; for
so they call little chambers without doors or win-
dows, into which they creep to avoid their little
winged enemies. When they have driven away the
insects by means of a fire of brushwood, which emits
kglat deal of smoke, they close the opening of the
<^ The absence of mosquitoes is dearly pur-
chased by the excessive heat, and the smoke of a
.o -opf copal, which lights the oven during your
P -hef platnd, with courage and patience
eT cc thy of praise, dried hundreds of plants in
these ovens of the Indians."
I think he did indeed deserve praise, papa," ex-
claimed Richard. What a persevering man he
must have been!"
M. Bonpland," observed Mr. Bourne, suffered
severer hardships than these, Richard, while striving
to increase his knowledge of natural history in South
America. He was unjustly taken prisoner by some
of the American Governments, and for many years
deprived of his liberty. Nevertheless, M. Bonpland
found so much to interest him in that rich tropical
country, that I believe he never returned to Europe;
at all events, he passed the greater part of his life
there, and, in the year 1857, there died, at the age
of eighty-five, preparing, even at that period of life,
works on science for publication."

" ,i


And what became of his companion, Baron
Humboldt?" inquired Richard.
He happily escaped at the time M. Bonplaand
was arrested, and returned to Europe in safety.
From that time intil h-e died at Berlin, in the
spring of this year (1859), at a still greater age
than his friend Bonpland (for he was .ore than
ninety), he was continually employed in adding
to our information on various countries, and :on
their different productions; in corresponding with
learned meii-in all parts of the world; and in en-
couraging earnest and.persevexing young students to
gain knowledge, and to make that knowledge useful
to others. Ile died lamented and honoured by all
classes of his countrymen, and by all foreigners who
had read his works.-But you have forgotten the
mosquitoes, Richard."
Oh, no, I have not; only I like to hear about
people who write books that interest me. You have
not heard all the plans, papa, that the poor Indians
make use of to avoid the mosquitoes. They actually
in one place, M. Humboldt says, are accustomed to
stretch themselves on the ground, and pass the night
bmied in dhe sand three or four inches deep, leaving
out tbhe head only, which they- cover with a hand.-
Men born in the country, whether they be
whites, negroes, or Indiang, all suffer from the sting

L.- .. .


of these insects, though far less than Europeans
recently arrived. During the day, when labouring
at thel oar, the nafives, in order to chase away these
insects, continually give one another smart slaps
with the palm of the hand. They even strike
themselves mechanically during their sleep. Near
F 2tiriBfesi. e saw some young Indians seated in a
iin$.ii :.- ritbing each other's backs with -the
ogk behk at # trees dried at the fire.
4eBsy tee sn e occupied with wondetftl
means of a sharp bone,
tood that forms the centre of
every sting.
I" One of the most barbarous nations of the
Oronoco had been taught ingenuity by their suffer-
ing, for they were perfectly acquainted with the
use of mosquito curtains, which they had formed
of a tissue of fibres of the palm-tree. There is,
however, no complete security against the torment
ef tcese insects. The Indians, covered with anelta
aniliturtt4e oil, give themselves nearly as many
smart slaps every instant as if their bodies were
not painted. Certainly, if persons, during the
navigation of these rivers, chose to be totally idle
all the time, they might have a garment in the
form o a bag, under which they could remain
covered, only opening it every half hour."
"What a delightful plan!" observed Richard,



laughing, to travel shut up in a bag! I am sure
that would never tempt me."
"No, I think not," said Mr. Bourne. If you
cannot make up your mind to endure the mosquitoes,
I think it is better to stay at home where you can
use your eyes."
"I am not surprised now, papa," said Richard,
that Baron Hulboldt observes that it is not the
dangers of a navigation in small boats, the savage
Indians, or the serpents, crocodiles, or jaguars, that
make the Spaniards dread a voyage on the Oronoco;
the mosquitoes, as they say, must be worse than all
these, they must indeed be terrible."
"Papa," added he, after a pause, I have just
recollected that among the slips of paper you put in
this book, you wrote on one of them, 'mosquitoes con-
sidered a blessing.' What could you possibly mean ?"
"I merely wrote down the simple fact to excite
your attention," replied his father. If you will give
me the volume, I will show you Baron Humboldt's
account of the cause of this strange feeling. Here
it is." When you hear tile continual complaints
that are made in hot countries of these tormenting
iisects, it is difficult to believe that their sudden
disappearance should become a subject of uneasi-
ness. Some of the inhabitants of Esmeralda told
us that one evening in the year 1795, an hotir
before sunset, when the mosquitoes usually form a

- I

a js~

-- ~-


"PUs~-o~rr-,;l,,~..,~5L -1SC il~-~ --_fCi---~UUUII-L ---i_-~F ---~~~--I- ~---_1~L-~--~~_- ~-


very thick cloud, the air was suddenly free from
them for twenty minutes. Not one insect was per-
ceived, although the sky was without a cloud, and
no wind announced rain. The inhabitants congra-
tulated each other, and inquired whether this state
of happiness, this relief from pain, could be of any
duration. But soon, instead of enjoying the pre-
it~, -they yielded to foolish fears, and imagined
%tiat the usual order of nature was changed, and
somethingg dreadful was going to happen.
... ;Iadians, the sages, of the place, asserted
tha is disappearance of the mosquitoes must be
the precursor of a great earthquake:-warm dis-
putes arose,-the least noise amid the foliage of
the trees was listened to with an attentive ear; and
when the air was again filled with mosquitoes, they
were almost hailed with pleasure."
How very curious!" said Richard; "but after
all, papa, the fear of the Indians was not more
surprising than the dread of an eclipse, which I
have heard you say is felt by all savage nations."
"No, certainly. Both give us a lesson not to be
terrified at unusual circumstances, merely because
we are ignorant of their cause. A little more
knowledge will often explain what to us may seem
strange and wonderful. Now if you have finished
reading, Richard, come into the field, and I will have
a game of cricket with you."

Iv .

_ __- ^- --------r -----UI--PI------~----rLCllbl






ONE evening, when the tea-things had been cleared
away, the lamp lighted, and Mr. Harmer's family
were happily settling their occupations till hbed-time,
Frederick reminded his father of his promise to
explain those parts of the clock which he did not
yet -understand; adding, M"y little Seconds Clock,

papa, will prevent me from ever forgetting the move-
ment of the pendulum and escapement-wheel, and
now I wish to know how the minute and hour-hands
are managed."
Mr. Harmer told him that lie should have great

pleasure in keeping his promise, and he placed on
the table several sketches, which he had made on
purpose to assist Fred in understanding his explana-
First of all, Fred," said Mr. Harmer, I wi:l
show you how the minute-hand goes once round in
an hour, and you must not think of the hour-hand
at all while I explain the minute-hand : neither is it
necessary to think any longer of the weight, as you

See page 158.


__ __ 1___ _



tEderstand thoroughly how it is that a weight prilu
round the wheels.
We have seen that the escapement-wheel C goes
once round in a minute; now if the spindle of the
escapement-wheel ______- __
C had a pinion,
lthat is, a very ill
little wheel C P
fixed on it, and c lil
this pinion turned
a great wihel G
W sixty times as
large as itself, the cw
pinion and the
escapement wheel
would have to go
round sixty times,
while the large
wheel went round once."
AAd then, papa," said Fred, each time that the
large wheel went round once, sixty minutes, or one
hour would pass. I see very plainly how the pinion
that is fixed on the escapement-wheel spindle would
make the large wheel move, because the teeth of the
pinion and the teeth of the large wheel fit into one
another; therefore when the pinion turns round, it
must move the great wheel. But, papa, a wheel
gsity times the size of the pinion must be very large

._ ___ _I _I L I __ ~_~





indeed. I should not have thought that common
clocks could have so large a wheel in them."
"Nor have they, Fred," replied Mr. Harmer.
"A wheel sixty times the size of the smallest pinion
is found to be inconveniently large besides, it would
make the index or hand move the wrong way.
The clockmakers, therefore, make use of two wheels
and two pinions in this manner :-The spindle of the
escapement-wheel has a pinion C P, of six teeth,
turning in a wheel D of sixty teeth, making it go
once round in ten minutes, because sixty is ten times
as much as six.

C l Once found in
one minute.

Once round in
Ii ten minutes.

Once round in
sixty minutes.

On the spindle of the ten-minute wheel D, is a
pinion D P, having twelve teeth turning in a wheel

-- ----~-- --..-;"-i-i~-C*rri-- I~--~-)il~ -- -I



E, of seventy-two teeth; and as seventy-two is six
times as much as twelve, the wheel E will be six
times as long going round as D P; that is, six times
ten minutes or sixty minutes. We will call this
wheel the sixty-minute wheel, because it may help
us to remember it better."
"Then, papa," said Fred, if a hand be fixed on
the spindle of this sixty-minute wheel, it will go once
round in an hour, pointing exactly to each minute as
it goes round."
"Precisely," answered his father, "in the same
manner that the hand on your little seconds clock
shows each second, and goes round once in a minute."
"If there were a hand fastened to the spindle of
the ten-minute wheel," observed Fred, it would
travel round in ten minutes. But it is much more
convenient to have the hand fixed on the spindle
of the sixty-minute wheel. Now for the hour hand,


How long is the hour-hand going once round,
George?" said Mr. Harmer to his youngest boy,
who, half stretched across the table, with his chin
resting on his hand, had been listening very atten-
tively, but looking somewhat puzzled. "'You are
almost too young, George, to understand these
things. In another year you will not find them

- I ~cae~ ~"a-~-~i$t~B


more difficult than your brother does now, so do
mot be vexed with yourself. I dare say you can
tell me how long the hour hand is in going once
"Yes," said George, one& hour"
Oh, no," exclaimed Fred, "it is one hour going
from one to two o'clock, another hour going from two
to three, and as there are twelve hours marked on the
clock, it must be twelve honrs in going round."
"Yes," said his father; "that is, twelve times as
long as the minute hand; and now you shall see how
that is contrived."
"O(C the spindle of the sixty-minute wheel E is
slipped a little tube F, which fits it tleraly jght.
At one end of this tube is fixed the minute-hand, anda
at the other end, the pinion G turning % wheel H of
three times the size and number of teeth as G, and of
course three times as long going round as G. On the
spindle of H is a pinion H P, turning a wheel I, of
four times the size and number of teeth of H P, and
therefore four times as long going round as H P
or H. Now, if I is four times as long going round as
H, and HI is three times as long going round as G, I
irmst be twelve times as long going round as G,
because three times four is twelve- that is, I is
twelve hours going round. This twelve-hourn wheel
I is fixed at one end' of a tube K, that turns loosely
on the tube F, and at the other end of-tlhe tube I is




i ...

-7 '' '`".--:~ '

,---------~' -` ~ ` ~;;;-~;L~si;~lli;C1^ --^ i~i~yTT1~OL~~___L~_





-- ~_L-b-jl~--

i--l----~-~L r-~Li ---^i^i--- --.-- ; -~

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs