Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 A few words to parents
 Harry and Lucy: Part I
 Harry and Lucy: Part II
 Harry and Lucy: Part III
 The little dog Trusty
 The orange-man
 The cherry orchard
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Title: Harry and Lucy
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015748/00001
 Material Information
Title: Harry and Lucy to which are added, The little dog Trusty, The cherry orchard, and The orange man
Alternate Title: Edgeworth's Harry and Lucy
Little dog Trusty
Cherry orchard
Orange man
Physical Description: 192 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Edgeworth, Maria, 1767-1849
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Savill and Edwards ( Printer )
Publisher: George Routledge and Sons
Place of Publication: London
New York
Manufacturer: Savill and Edwards
Publication Date: 1856
Copyright Date: 1856
Edition: New ed.
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Honesty -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Laziness -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Parent and child -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1856   ( lcsh )
Dialogues -- 1856   ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1856   ( local )
Bldn -- 1856
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Dialogues   ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Maria Edgeworth.
General Note: Preface p. 3 dated 1856.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015748
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA8278
notis - ALJ3415
oclc - 13111298
alephbibnum - 002242462
lccn - 06026305

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Table of Contents
        Page 5
        Page 6
    A few words to parents
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    Harry and Lucy: Part I
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    Harry and Lucy: Part II
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    Harry and Lucy: Part III
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
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        Page 125
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        Page 131
        Page 132
        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
    The little dog Trusty
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
    The orange-man
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
    The cherry orchard
        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
    Back Matter
        Back Matter 1
        Back Matter 2
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library
m Unversn









Price Is. 6d. each,'cloth,


GEORGE ROUTLEDGE and SONS, The Broadwny, LultLALe.


IN Harry and Lucy, Miss Edgeworth has treated of
more scientific subjects than in either Rosamond or
Franc ; and, in spite of the difficulty of the task, has
rendered many pleasing experiments intelligible to
Science wears an attractive or a repulsive aspect to
the young, according to the form in which it is pre-
sented to their minds. Familiar illustration, and an
earnest desire to communicate knowledge, will excite
the curiosity of learners of the tenderest age. In
these pages this result has been accomplished.
These tales have amused and instructed successive
generations; and the high estimation in which they
are held has induced the publishers to issue this
In this volume The Little Dog Trusty, The Cherry
Orchard, and The Orange Man, are added to Harry
and Lucy, and they have all been carefully revised
and corrected.

London, May, 1856.




HARRY AND LUCY .. . ...... 11


THE BOY OF TRUTH . . . .. 165


THE THIEF ....... 172

THE CHERRY ORCHARD .. . .. . 178


WE are afraid that the following pages should appear
too difficult for children of eight or ten years of age, if
their thoughts have not been turned to subjects of
the sort which are here introduced to their attention.
We therefore most earnestly deprecate the use of the
following book till the understandings of the pupils
into whose hands it may be put shall have been pre-
viously accustomed to the terms, and to the objects,
which are nientioned in the following part of this little
The intention of the writers is to prepare the mind
for more difficult studies; and the end which they
have in view will be completely frustrated if this little
book is crammed into the minds of children. It is
intended to be used in very short portions, and not to
be formed into necessary tasks; but to be read when
the child's mind has been prepared, by what it has
already seen and heard, to wish to hear and see more.
That these lessons (not tasks) are in themselves in-
telligible to children, we are certain; because they
have been readily comprehended by several young
children, and, in particular, by a boy of four years and
two months old. All the experiments herein related


were shown to him, at different times, within a fort-
night. He was much entertained. His lessons were
short, but his attention was engaged, and he seemed to
wish for their return with eagerness. That he did,
and does understand them thoroughly, and that he has
not been taught certain answers to certain questions
by rote, we assert. In making this assertion, we do
not mean to claim any'superiority for this child over
other children; because we believe him to be no pro-
digy, but a child of good abilities, without any peculiar
cleverness. So far from making any such claim, we
must acknowledge that this boy scarcely knows his
letters; and that he shows no extraordinary quickness
in learning them. He is, however, lively and obedient;
indeed, the most lively children are, if well treated,
usually the most obedient. The names of various
objects, of common and of uncommon use, are familiar
to him; he has seen a variety of tools, and has been
accustomed to handle a few of them. In short, in his
education nothing extraordinary has been said, or
taught, or done. Every governess, and every mother
who acts as governess to her own children, may easily
follow the same course. Where mothers have not
time, and where they cannot obtain the assistance of a
governess, it were to be wished that early schools
could be found for early education. To learn to read
is to acquire a key to knowledge: but, alas! it is a
key that is not always used to advantage. There is
not an hour in the day when something useful may
not be taught, before books can be read or understood.
Perhaps parents may pity the father and mother, in
Harry and Lucy, as much as they pity the children;


and may consider them as the most hard-worked and
hard-working people that ever existed, or that were
ever fabled to exist. They may say that these children
never had a moment's respite, and that the poor father
and mother never had anything to do, or never did
anything, but attend to these children, answer their
questions, and provide for their instruction or amuse-
ment. This view of what is expected from- parents
may alarm many, even of those who have much zeal
and ability in education. But we beseech them not to
take this false alarm. Even if they were actually to
do all that the father and mother of Harry and Lucy
are here represented to have done, they would not, in
practice, feel it so very laborious, or find that it takes
up so preposterous a portion of their lives as they
might apprehend. In fact, however, there is no neces-
sity for parents doing all this in any given time,
though there was a necessity for the authors' bringing
into a small compass, in a reasonable number of pages,
a certain portion of knowledge.
Be it therefore hereby declared, and be it now and
henceforward understood, by all those whom it may
concern, that fathers or mothers (as the case may be)
are not expected to devote the whole of their days, or
even two hours out of the four-and-twenty, to the
tuition or instruction of their children; that no father
is expected, like Harry's father, to devote an hour
before breakfast to the trying of experiments for his
children; that no mother is required to suspend her
toilet-no father to delay shaving-while their chil-
dren blow bubbles, or inquire into the construction of
bellows, windmill, barometer, or pump. And be it


further understood, that no mother is required, like
Lucy's mother, to read or find, every evening, enter-
taining books, or passages from books, for her children.
Provided always, that said fathers and mothers do,
at any and all convenient times, introduce or suggest,
or cause to be introduced or suggested, to their p1iils,
the simple elementary notions of science, contained in
the following pages; and provided always, that they
do at all times associate, or cause 0o be associated,.
pleasure in the minds of their children with the acqui-
sition of knowledge.



LITTLE children who know the sounds of all letters
can read words, and can understand what is told in
this book.
Harry and Lucy were brother and sister. Harry
had just come home to his father's house. He had
been left at his uncle's when an infant, and had always
lived at this relative's house.
Lucy slept in a little bed in a closet near her
mother's room; and Harry in a little bed in another

Early in the morning, whilst Lucy was in bed, the
sun shone through the window upon her face, and
aroused her; when she was quite awake, she knew
that it was morning, because it was daylight, and she
called to her mother, and said, Mamma, may I get
up ?" But her mother did not answer her, f6r she did
not hear what she said, because she was asleep. When
Lucy knew that her mother was asleep, she lay still,
that she might not disturb her. At length she heard
her mother stir; and then she asked her again if she
might get up; and her mother said she might.


So Lucy got up, and put on her stockings and shoes,
and finished dressing herself, and then went to her
mother, and asked for some breakfast. But her mother
told her to make her bed, before she should have any
breakfast. Little Lucy began to make her bed, and
her mother went into her other closet, to call Harry,
and she said, "Harry! get up!" And Harry jumped
out of bed in an instant, and put on his trousers, and
his jacket, and his shoes; and then he combed his
hair, and washed his hands; and whilst he was wiping
his hands, his mother went down stairs.

Little Lucy hearing her brother Harry walking
about in the closet, called him, and asked him if he
had made his bed. Harry said he had not.
Oh then," says Lucy, mamma will give you no
Yes," says Harry, "she will. I never made my
bed at my uncle's, and I always had my breakfast."
As they were talking, he heard his father call him,
and he ran down-stairs to the parlour, where his
father and mother were at breakfast. Lucy's mother
called her down, too, and said to her, Well, Lucy,
have you made your bed neatly ?"
Lucy. Yes, mamma; I made it as well as I could.
Mother. You shall have some breakfast, then.
Harry's father asked whether he had made his
bed. Harry answered, that he did not know how to
make it.
"I will show you," said his mother; and taking


him by the hand, she led him up stairs, and showed
him how to make his bed.

When Harry came down to his father, he said that
he did not know that boys or men ever made beds;
for at his uncle's nobody ever made beds but the
His father told him, that in some countries* the
beds are made by men; and that in ships, which sail
on the sea, and carry men from one country to an-
other, the beds in which the sailors sleep are always
made by men.
Lucy's mother observed that she had not eaten her
breakfast, and asked her why she had not eaten it.
Lucy said, that she waited for her brother. Her
mother then gave Harry a basin of milk, and a large
piece of bread; and she set a little table for him and
his sister under a shady tree that was opposite to the
open window of the room where she breakfasted.

Lucy was a good little girl, and always minded what
was said to her, and was very attentive whenever her
father or mother had taught her anything. So her
mother taught her to read and to work, and when she
was six years old she could employ herself, without
being troublesome to anybody. She could work for
herself, and for her brother, and sometimes, when Lucy
behaved very well, her mother let her do a little work
Here the child, if at a distance from the coast, should be told
what is meant by different countries; what a ship is, and what is
meant by a sailor, &c.



for her, or for her father. Her mother had given her
a little thimble, to put upon her finger, and a little
housewife, to keep her needles and thread in, and a
little pair of scissors, to cut her thread with, and a
little work-bag, to put her work in; and Lucy's father
had given her a little book, to read in, whenever she
pleased, and she could read in it by herself, and under-
stand all she read, and learn everything that was in it.

As soon as Lucy had eaten the breakfast which her
mother had given her, she sat down on her stool, and
took her work out of her work-bag, and worked some
time. Presently her mother told her that she had
worked an hour, and that she did not choose that she
should work any more. Lucy got up, and brought
her work to her mother, and asked her if it was done
as it ought to be done. And her mother said, Lucy,
it is done pretty well for a little girl that is but six
years old, and I am pleased to see that you have tried
to avoid the fault of which I told you yesterday."
Then Lucy's mother kissed her, and said to her, "t Put
your work into your work-bag, and put your work-
bag into its place, and then come back to me."

Lucy did as she was desired; and then her mother
asked her if she would rather go out of doors and
walk, or stay with her. Lucy preferred staying with
her mother, who very soon afterwards went to her dairy.

Lucy followed her, and took a great deal of care not


to be troublesome, for she loved to be with her mother.
She .observed whatever she saw, and did not meddle
with anything. She noticed that the dairy was very
clean; the floor was a little damp, which made her
think that it had been washed that morning, and there
were not any cobwebs or dust upon the walls; and
she perceived that the room smelt very sweet. She
then looked about, to discover if there were any
flowers from which that pleasant smell might proceed;
but she could not see anything but a great many clean
empty vessels of different shapes, and a great many
round, wide, and shallow pans full of milk. She went
near to them, and thought the smell came from them.
When she had looked at a good many of them, she
thought they werebiot all alike; the milk in some of
the pans was a little yellowish, and looked thick, like
the cream that she saw every morning at her mother's
breakfast; and the milk in the other pans of a blue
shade, and looked thin, like the milk that was often
given to her and her brother to drink. Whilst Lucy
was thinking on this, she saw one of her mother's
maids go to one of the pans, that had the yellowish
milk in it. The maid had a wooden saucer in her
hand, and she put the wooden saucer very gently into
the pan; she did not put it down to the bottom of the
pan, but took up that part of the milk which was at
the top, and poured it into another vessel, and then
Lucy saw that the milk that was left in the pan was
not at all like that which the maid had taken out, but
was very thin, and a little blue.
When Lucy's mother went out of the dairy, she
took her little daughter out into the fields, to walk



with her. Soon after they set out, Lucy said, "Mother,
when I was in your dairy, just now, I saw the maid
take some milk out of a milk-pan, and it looked like
what I see you put into your tea-I believe it is
called cream; but she left some milk in the pan, and
that was not at all like cream, but like very thin milk.
Pray, mother, will you tell me why all that was in the
pan was not cream ?"
Then her mother said, "Yes, Lucy, I will answer
any questions you like to ask me, when I have
leisure, because, whenever I talk to you, you mind
what I say, and remember whatever your father or I
teach you."

I believe you know that the kind of milk which 1
give you very often for your breakfast and supper, is
taken out of the udders of cows. Did you never see
the maids, with milk-pails, going a-milking? They
were then going to take the milk from my cows; they
call that milking them, and it is done twice every day-
once in the morning, and once in the evening. When
they have got the milk in the pails, they carry it into
the dairy, and put it into such milk-pans as you saw,
and they let the milk-pans stand still, in the same
place, for several hours, that the milk may not be
shaken. During that time, the heaviest part of. the
milk falls as low as it can, towards the bottom of the
pan, and the lightest part of the milk remains above
it, at the top of the pan, and that thick light part is
called cream, as you thought it was. When the milk
has stood long enough, the cream is taken from the

Pi~BWi~ihtB~L~ r. ..I ---


other part of the milk-and doing this is called skim-
ming the milk; but it must be done very carefully, or
else the cream and milk would be all mixed together
Lucy told her mother, that when she was in the
dairy, she had walked all round it, and that she saw a
great deal of cream; more, she thought, than came
every day into the parlour; and she wished to know
what other use was made of it, besides mixing it with
tea, and fruit, or sweetmeats.

Lucy's mother was going to answer her, but she
looked towards the other side of the field, and said,
"Lucy, I think I see some pretty flowers there, will
you run, and gather me a nosegay, before I talk any
more to you ?" Lucy said, "Yes, mother;" and ran
away to do what her mother requested. When she
came to the place where the flowers were, she looked
about for the prettiest, and gathered two or three of
them,-but when she had them in her hand, she per-
ceived that they had not any smell ; so she went to a
great many more, and at last she found some that had
a sweet smell. These, however, were not pretty, and
she gathered some of them, intending to take them to
her mother. As she passed near a hedge, she saw some
honeysuckles, growing in it, and she remembered that
she had smelt honeysuckles that were very sweet and
very pretty too, so she was glad that she had found
some, because she thought that her mother would like
them. When she came close to the hedge, she saw
that they were so high from the ground that she could
not reach them. Lucy did not like to go away with-
"r 3



out taking some honeysuckles to her mother, so she
"walked slowly by the side of the hedge, till she came
to a place wherheretere was a large stone, upon which
she climbed, and gathered as many honeysuckles as she

Whilst she was getting down she held the flowers
fast, for fear she should drop them into the ditch, and
she felt something prick her finger very sharply. She
looked and saw a bee drop off one of the honeysuckles
that she had squeezed in her hand; so she thought
that she had hurt the bee, and that the bee had stung
her to make her release him, and that it was the bee
which she had felt pricking her. Lucy was afraid
that she had hurt the bee very much, for she remem-
bered that when she opened her hands the bee did not
fly away, but dropt down; so she looked for it on the
ground, and she soon found it struggling in some water,
.and trying with its little legs and wings to get out, but
it was not strong enough. Lucy was very sorry for
the bee, but she was afraid to touch it, lest she should
jurt it again, or that it should hurt her. She thought
for a little while what she could do, and then she got
a large stalk of a flower and put it close to the bee.
As soon as ever the bee felt it, he clasped his legs
round it, and Lucy gently raised the stalk with the
hee upon it from the wet ground, and laid it upon a
large flower that was near her. The bee was covered
with dirt, but as soon as he felt that he was standing
ipon his legs again, he began to stretch his wings and
to clean himself and to buzz a little union the flower.


Lucy was glad to see that the bee did not seem to be
very much hurt, and she took up her nosegay and ran
as fast as she could towards her mother; but the finger
that the bee had stung began to be very sore.

She met her mother coming to her, who wondered
what had made her-stay so long; and when Lucy
told her what had happened, she said, "I thank you,
my dear, for getting me so sweet a nosegay, and I am
very sorry you have been pricked in doing it. I am
sure you did not intend to hurt the poor little bee; and
we will walk home now, and I will put some hartshorn
to your finger, which will lessen the pain you feel."
Lucy said, Indeed, mother, I did not mean to hurt
the bee, for I did not know that it was in my hand;
but when I am going to gather flowers another time, I
will look to see if there are any bees upon them."
When Lucy's mother got home, she put some harts-
horn to Lucy's finger, and soon after it grew easier;
and Lucy's mother said to her, Now I am going to
be busy, and, if you like, you may go into the garden
till dressing time." Lucy thanked her, and said "she
did like it, but she hoped that some time when she was
not busy, her mother would answer what she had asked
her about cream."

After breakfast, Harry's father took him out a walk-
ing; and they came to a field where several men were
at work. Some were digging clay out of a pit in the
ground; some were wetting that which had been dug
out with water, and others were making the clay into,


a great number of pieces, of the same size and shaa
Harry asked his father, what the men were abod)
His parent told him that they were making bricks for'
building houses. "Yes," says Harry, "but I can run
my finger into these; they are quite soft and brown,
and the bricks of your house are red and hard, and
they don't stick together as the bricks of your house
do." Saying this, he pushed down a whole hack of
bricks. The man who was making them called out to
desire he would pay for those he had spoiled. Little
Harry had no money, and did not know what to do;
but said to the man, "indeed, sir, I did not intend to
do any harm." The man answered, whether you
intended it or not, you have spoiled the bricks, and
must pay me for them; I am a poor man, and buy all
the bread that I have with the money which I get for
these bricks, and I shall have less bread if I have a
smaller number of bricks to sell."

Poor Harry. was very sorry for what he had done,
and at last thought of asking his father to pay for
them. But his father said, "I have not spoiled them,
and therefore it is not necessary that I should pay for
them." The man, seeing that Harry had not intended
to do mischief, told him, if he would promise to make
amends at some future time for the mischief which he
had done, he would be satisfied." Harry promised that
he would. "Now you find, Harry," said his father,
"that you must not meddle with what does not belong
to you."
During their walk they came to a blacksmith's shop,
and as it began to rain, Harry's father stood under the
... .. , -- . ... .. ... . .. . .. . ..... .. .......... 1 -,. .1.~.. .....~..



shed beforee the door. A farmer rode up to the shop,
and asked the blacksmith to put a shoe upon his horse,
which, he said, had lost one a little way off, and which
would be lamed if he went over any stony road without
a shoe. "Sir," says the blacksmith, I cannot shoe
your horse, as I have not iron enough. I have sent for
a supply to the next town, and the person whom I sent
cannot be back before evening."
Perhaps," said the farmer, you have an old shoe
that may be made to fit my horse."
The smith had no iron, except a bit of small nail-
rod, which was only fit for making nails: but he said
that, if the farmer looked on the road, perhaps he might
find the shoe which had fallen from his horse. Little
Harry, hearing what had passed, told his father that
he thought he could find a shoe for the farmer's horse.
His father asked him where he thought he could find
a shoe?

He said, that, as they walked along the road, he
had observed something lying in the dirt, which he
thought was like a horse-shoe. His father begged that
the farmer would wait a little while; and then he
walked back with Harry on the road by which they
came to the blacksmith's. Harry looked very care-
fully, and after some time he found the horseshoe, and
brought it back to the smith's shop; but it was not fit
to be put upon the horse's foot again, as it had beer
bent by a waggon-wheel which had passed over it.
The farmer thanked Harry, the blacksmith said,
that he wished every little boy was as attentive and as



useful. He now began to blow his large bellows, which
made a roaring noise, and the wind came out of the
pipe of the bellows among the coals upon the hearth, and
the coals grew red, and by degrees they became brighter
and brighter, the fire became hotter, and the smith put
the old iron horse-shoe into the fire, and after some
time it became red and hot like the coals. When the
smith thought that the iron was hot enough, he took
it out of the fire with a pair of tongs, and put it upon
the anvil, and struck it with a heavy hammer. Harry
saw that the iron became soft by being made red hot;
and he noticed that the smith could hammer it into
whatever shape he pleased.

When the smith had made the shoe of a proper size
and shape, he took a piece of nail-rod, and heated it
red hot in the fire, by the help of the large bellows,
which he blew with his right hand, whilst he held the
tongs in his left.
Harry was going to examine the horseshoe that the
smith had just made, but he would not meddle with
it without leave, as he recollected what had happened
in the brick-field.
Whilst he was looking at the shoe, another little
boy came into the shop, and after lounging about for
some time, stooped down and took up the horse-shoe
in his hand. He suddenly let it drop,-roared put vio-
lently, and said that he was burnt. Whilst he was cry-
ing, and blowing his fingers, and squeezing and pinching
them, to lessen the pain, the smith turned him out of
the shop, and told him, that if he had not meddled with



what did not belong to him, he would not have been
hurt. The little boy went away whimpering and mut-
tering that he did not know that black iron would
burn him.

The smith now took the nail-rod out of the fire, and
it was hotter than the other iron, and it was of a glow-
ing white colour. When the smith struck it upon the
anvil, a number of bright sparks flew off the iron, on
every side about the shop, and they appeared very
The smith then made some nails, and began to fasten
the shoe on the horse's foot with these. Harry, who
had never before seen a horse shod, was much surprised
that the horse did not seem to be hurt by the nails
which were driven into his foot; for the horse did not
draw away his foot or show any signs of feeling pain.
Harry's father asked him whether his nails had ever
been cut.
Harry said that they had.
Papa. Did cutting your nails hurt you?
Harry. No.
Papa. A horse's hoof is of horn, like your nails, and
that part of it that has no flesh fastened to it is not
sensible to pain. The outside of the hoof may be cut,
and may have nails driven into it, without giving any
pain to the horse.
The blacksmith, who was paring the horse's foot,
gave Harry a piece of the horn that he had cut off.
Harry perceived that it was neither so hard as bone
nor so soft as flesh; and the blacksmith told him, that



the hoof of a horse grows in the same manner as the
nails of a man, and requires, like them, to be some-
times pared.

And when the blacksmith had finished shoeing the
horse, he showed Harry the hoof of a dead horse, that
had been separated from the foot, and Harry saw how
thick it was in that part where the nails were driven in.
Harry's father now told him that it was time to go
home, as they had two miles to walk, and it wanted but
an hour of dinner time. Harry asked his father, how
much time it would take up to walk two miles, if they
walked as fast as they usually did? His father showed
him his watch, and told him he might see, when they
got home, how long they had been returning. Harry
saw that it was four minutes after two o'clock, and
when they got home it was forty-eight minutes after
two; so Harry counted, and found how many minutes
had passed from the time they left the blacksmith's shop
until they got home.

When Harry came into the garden, he ran to his
sister Lucy to tell her all that had happened to him,
and she left what she was about, and ran to meet him.
She thought he had been away a great while, and was
very glad to see him; but just then the bell rang, and
they knew they must go in directly to make them-
selves ready for dinner,
When dinner was over, Harry and Lucy were allowed
to go into the garden, and then Lucy begged her brother


to tell her all that had happened whilst he was out in
the morning. Harry then told her how he had spoiled
the bricks, and what the brickmaker had said to him;
and he told her that he had promised to make amends
for the mischief which he had done.
He told her, that to make bricks men dug clay and
beat it with a spade, and mixed it with water to make
it soft and sticky, and that then they made it into the
shape of bricks, and left it to dry; and when it was
hard enough to be carried without breaking, it was put
into large heaps and burnt so as to become of a red-
dish yellow colour, and almost as hard as a stone.

"Then, brother," says Lucy, if you will make some
bricks we can build a house in the little garden mamma
lent me." So they went to the little garden, and Harry
dug some earth with a little spade which his father had
given him, and endeavoured to make it stick together
with some water, but he could not make it sticky like
the clay that he saw the brickmakers use. He ran in,
and asked his father why he could not make it sticky
with water ? And his father asked him whether it was
the same kind of earth that he had seen at the brick-
field ? And Harry said, he did not know what his
father meant by the same kind of earth: he saw a man
dig earth, and he dug it in the same manner.
Papa. But is the earth in the garden the same colour
as that in the brickfield ?
Harry, No: that in the garden is almost black, and
that in the field is yellow.
Papa. Then they are not the same kinds of earth.


flHar;y. I thought all earth was alike.
Papa. You find that it is not; for you see that all
earth cannot be made to stick together with water.

Harry went back into the garden, and after having
looked into a great many places for yellow earth, at
last he saw some in the bottom of a hole that had been
dug some time before. He ran back and asked his
father's leave to dig some of it; and after he had ob-
tained leave, he dug some of the yellow clay, and found
that when it was mixed with water it became very
sticky and tough; and that the more it was mixed, and
squeezed, and beaten with the spade, the tougher it
became. He now endeavoured to make it into the
shape of bricks, but he found that he could not do this,
and Lucy asked him whether the brickmakers were as
long making a brick as he was ? "No," said he, they
have a little box made in the shape of a brick without
top or bottom, into which they put the clay upon a
table, and with a straight stick like a ruler they scrape
the clay even with the top of the box, and then lifting
up the box, they find the clay in the shape of a brick
upon the table."
"Harry," says Lucy, "there is a carpenter in the
house at work for my mother; I will go and ask her to
get a box made for you. Do you know by what name
such a box is called, brother'?"
"It is called a mould."

Lucy's mother ordered the carpenter to make a brick-
maker s mould for HIarry; but the man could not begin


until he knew what size it should be; that is, how
many inches long, how many inches broad, and how
many inches thick. Harry did not know what the
carpenter meant; but Lucy, having always lived with
her mother, who had been very kind to her, and who
had taught her a great many things, understood very
well. As she wished to have bricks of the size of those
with which her father's house was built, she went and
measured some of the bricks in the wall, and finding
that a great number of them were all of the same length,
she said to her brother that she supposed that they
were all alike. Harry told her that as the brickmakers
used but one mould whilst he saw them at work, he
supposed that they mad4 a great number of bricks of
the same size, and that the wall would not look so re-
gular as it did if the bricks were of different sizes.

Lucy therefore thought if she could measure one
brick it would be sufficient. She easily found the
length and the depth of a brick in the wall, but she did
not at first know how to find the breadth, as the bricks
were lying upon each other, and this prevented her
from seeing their breadth. Harry showed her at the
corner of the wall how the breadth of the bricks could
be seen. She measured very carefully, and found the
length to be nine inches, the breadth four inches, and
the depth two inches and a quarter. So the carpenter,
when he knew the dimensions of the mould, made it;
and Harry placed a flat stone upon two other large
stones, to serve for a table, and he and Lucy made several
bricks. They were a great while before they could



make them tolerably smooth, as they stuck to the mould
unless the mould was wetted. They were very happy
making their bricks, but they did not know how they
should burn them, so as to make them hard, although
they determined to try.
It was eight o'clock in the evening before they had
finished ten bricks, and they were called in, and their
mother gave them some bread-and-milk for supper, and
sent them to bed.
The next morning, Harry and Lucy got up as usual;
and their father and mother gave them permission to go
to look at the bricks they had made. Harry found that
they were a little harder than they were the night be-
fore; and Lucy thought that burning them would make
them softer; for she had seen butter, and wax, and
pomatum, and sealing-wax, all made soft by heat, but
she did not remember to have seen anything made
hard by heat. But Harry put her in mind of the
crust of pies, which is soft and tough, like clay, before
it is baked, and which grows hard and brittle by the
'heat of the oven. He also told her, that the iron of
which the blacksmith made the horse's shoe, when he
blew the bellows, was hard and black, before it was
put into the fire, but that it became red, when it was
sufficiently heated, and so soft that the smith could
hammer it into what shape he pleased.
Lucy believed what her brother said, but was re-
solved to ask her mother to take her to see red hot
iron, and a brick-kiln, which Harry told her was the
name of the place in which bricks were burnt.

Whilst they were eating the breakfast which their



mother gave them, Harry asked his sister what she
had been doing the day before, when he was out with
his father; and Lucy told him all she had seen in the
dairy, and when she was out walking. When they
had done breakfast, his mother lent Harry one of Mrs.
Barbauld's little books for children, and made him
read the story of the poor Blind Fiddler, with which
Harry was very much pleased ; and then she told Lucy
to read the following story.

A MAN riding near the town of Reading, saw a little
chimney-sweeper lying in the dirt. The poor lad
seemed to be in great pain, so he asked him what was
the matter; and the chimney-sweeper said that he had
fallen down, and broken his arm, and hurt his leg, so
that he was not able to walk. The man, who was very
good-natured, got off his horse, and put the chimney-
sweeper upon it, and walked beside the horse, and held
the boy on till he came to Reading. When he came
to Reading, he put the boy under the care of an old
woman whom he knew there, and he paid a surgeon
for setting his arm. He also gave the woman money
for the trouble which she would have in taking care of
the boy, and the expense which she would incur in
feeding him, till he should be able to work again, to
earn money for himself. Then the man continued his
Journey, till he got to his own house, which was at a
great distance. The boy soon recovered, and earned
his bread by sweeping chimneys at Reading.

"Several years after that time, this same good-natured
man was riding through Reading, and his horse took



i ght; upon a bridge, and jumped, with the man upon
his back, into the water. The man could not swim,
and the people who were on the bridge, and saw him
tum ble in, were afraid to jump into the water, to pull
himl out ; but just as he was about to sink, a chimney-
sweeper who was going by saw him, and without stopping
a moment, tre.w himself into the river, and seizing hold
.f himn, dragged him out of the water, and saved him
from being drowned. When the man was safe upon
I he bank, and was going to thank the man who had
lulled him out of the water, he recollected that it was
the sane chimney-sweeper whom he had taken care of
several years before, and who now haz-r'ded his own
life to .ave that of his benefactor."
WVhen Lucy had done reading, her mother asked
I.arry which he liked best, the man who had taken
care of the chimney-sweeper, whom he did not know,
or the chimney-sweeper, who had saved the life of the
man whom he knew, and who had taken care of him
when his arm was broken.
Harry said, he liked the chimney-sweeper best, be-
cause he was grateful, and because he ventured his
own life to save that of the man who had been kind to
him: but Lucy said, she liked the other man the best,
because he was humane, and took care of a poor little
boy who had nobody to take care of him, and from
whom he could never expect to receive any benefit.

This is the history of Harry and Lucy for two days.
The next part will consist of the history of another day,
when Harry and Lucy were a year older.

-- .p-.*- ..-1.~ ...-:..~ I ..~


AFTER the summer was over, and the autumn and
winter had passed away, another spring came.
Harry and Lucy were now each of them a year
And during the year that had elapsed, they had
grown taller and stronger, and had learnt a great
many things that they did not know before.
They had learnt to read fluently; and they were
therefore able to entertain themselves a little, during
the winter's evenings, by reading short stories in books
which their mamma gave them; and they had learnt
a little arithmetic, and could cast up sums in addition,
and subtract.
And they had each of them a little garden. Harry
dug the ground when it was necessary, and Lucy
pulled up weeds, and helped to wheel them away
in her little wheelbarrow, and assisted in sowing
seeds of different sorts, and in planting the roots of
In the summer she and Harry carried water, to
water the plants and flowers which they had set and
sown in the spring. And they had not only planted
flowers, and sown small salad, but Harry had also a
crop of peas, and a crop of potatoes, in his garden; for
his father had seen that he was industrious, and for


that reason he gave him a piece of good ground, to be
added to his garden. As it had been grass-ground for
some time, it was so hard that Harry was not able to
dig it. But his father had it dug roughly for him, and
a cart-load of dung laid upon it. Harry had observed
very attentively how his father's laboiurers set potatoes;
and in the beginning of the month of February he dug
his ground over again, and marked it out into ridges,
with stakes and a line, and spread the dung upon the
ridges, leaving sufficient space between the ridges for
the furrows. He then cut some potatoes, which his
father had given him, into small pieces, to plant in
the ground for sets. He took care to cut them so
that each piece had an eye in it; that is to say,
that each piece should have one of those little black
spots in it which contain the root of the potato.
After the piece of potato has been some time in the
ground, it rots' away, and the root unfolds, and long
fibres spread into the earth.
He scattered these pieces upon the dung, at eight or
ten inches from each other; and then he dug earth
out of the furrows that lay between the ridges, and
covered the bits of potato and the dung with it,
laying it over them both to the depth of three or four
When he had made any mistake, or had not done
the work well, his father assisted him, and showed him
how to do it better.
The rain in the following spring, and the heat of
the sun in the beginning of summer, had contributed
to the growth of Harry's crop, and in the middle of
June he had some fine young potatoes fit to eat.


About this time of the year the weather is generally
very hot; and one day, as Harry and his sister were
sitting under the shady tree,which was mentioned in
the former chapter, picking some cowslips for their
mamma, Harry observed that the shadow of the tree
reached almost round the stem. He had noticed in the
morning, when he was at breakfast, that the shadow of
the tree fell only at one side of it. He asked his father,
who was passing- by, the reason of this, and his
father took him to the door of the house, and desired
him to look where the sun was; and he saw that it
was opposite the door, and very high in the sky.
Take notice, Harry, where you see the sun now, and
observe where you see it this evening, when the sun is
Harry said he knew where the sun set; that he could
not see it from the hall-door; but that he could see it
from that end of the house, which was at the right
hand of the hall-door as he went out.
Father. Did you ever observe where it rises?
Harry. Yes; it rose this morning at the other en
of the house.
Father. It did so. Now, do you know where are
the south, and the north, and the east, and the west?
Harry. No; but I believe that part of the sky in
which the sun rises is called the east.
Father. It is; and the part in which it sets is called
the west. Now you may always know the south and
the north, wherever you are, if you know where the sun
Either rises pr sets. If you know where-it rises, stand
with your left hand towards that part of the sky, and
thenTthe part of the sky before your face will be the


south, and that part of the sky behind your back will
be the north.
In the same manner, if you know where the sun
sets, turn your right hand towards that place, and the
part of the sky opposite to you will be the south. But,
Harry, you must remember that there are only two
days in the year when the sun sets exactly in the
west and rises exactly in the east.
Harry. What days are those, papa?
Father. It would be of no use now to tell you the
names of those days; but when one of them comes I
will let you know it. On that day the sun rises exactly
at six o'clock in the morning, and sets exactly at six
o'clock in the evening.
Papa," said Harry, "I have observed several times
that my shadow in the morning and in the evening is
very long; but in the middle of the day I can scarcely
see it at all."
Father. You must think about it yourself, Harry;
or if I tell you everything that you want to know,
without your taking the trouble to think, you will not
acquire the habit of thinking for yourself; and with-
out being able to think for yourself, you will never
have good sense.

The bricks, which Harry and Lucy had made the
year before, all melted away (as the workmen say) by
the rain, or broke because they had not been burnt.
In the month of November, before the usual frosts of
the winterhad begun, Harry dug some tough yellow clay,
of a proper sort, and he mixed it well with his spade,


and Lucy picked out the little pebbles with a small
paddle, and the frost made the clay mellow, as the
workmen call it. In the spring, Harry made nearly six
hundred bricks, and built them into stacks, and covered
them with turf, which his father had allowed him to
pare off the surface of the ground. And Harry's father,
who had been much pleased with his good behaviour
and industry, came to the tree where he was at work,
and asked him if he would like to go to the brick-field,
to see how bricks were burnt. Lucy wished to go
with them, and she ran and asked her mother to let
her go. Her mother very cheerfully consented, and said
she would accompany her.

Whilst Lucy and her mother were getting ready to,
go, Harry ran to his garden and dug some of his fine
young potatoes, and put them into a basket which he
had of his own, and returned to the house; and his
father asked him what he intended to do with them.
Father," said Harry, "last year when I had spoiled
the poor man's bricks, I promised that I would make him.
amends, and I determined, when I set my potatoes, to
let him have the first of them that were fit to be dug up,
as I was told that early potatoes are more valuable
than those that come in later.
father But you will not be able to carry such a
heavy load so far.
I will try," said Harry.
He was able to proceed but a little way. with hii
]oWl, without re6tiog.
What could he do?


His father was willing to assist him, as he had shown
honesty and truth in keeping his promise, and good
sense in the means which he had taken to make the
brickmaker amends for the injury which he had done
to him. He asked a farmer whom he knew, and who
was passing at the time with a cart, to take the basket
into his vehicle, and to leave it in the brick-field which
was at the roadside.

By the time they had reached the brick-field, by a
pleasant walk through the fields, the farmer, who kept
to the road, had arrived with his cart at the same
Harry thanked him, took up his basket, and marched
boldly into the place where the brickmaker was at
The man knew him again, and was much pleased
with Harry's punctuality. He took the potatoes out
of the basket, and said that they were worth full as
much as the bricks that had been spoilt.
Harry's father asked the man to show him how he
burnt his bricks, in order to make them hard; and
the man said he was just going to set fire to a kiln
of bricks, and that he would show them how it was

The kiln was made of the bricks that were to be
burnt. These bricks were built up one upon another,
and one beside the other, not quite close, but in such a
manner as to leave a little room on every side of each


brick; and in the middle of the kiln, near the bottom,
there were large holes filled with furze bushes.
The whole kiln was as large as a good-sized room.
The man went to his house for a few lighted coals, and
he put them under the furze, which soon took fire and
blazed, and the smoke came through the openings that
were left between the bricks, and the heat of the fire
came through them also, and heated the bricks. The
man told Harry's father that he should supply the kiln
with furze and keep the fire strong for six days and
six nights, and that then the bricks would be sufficiently
Harry now said that he was afraid that he should
not be able to build a kiln for his bricks. He had
grown wise enough to know that it required time to
learn how to do things which we have not been used
to do. And he asked the brickmaker whether he
thought he could build his bricks so as to be able to
burn them. And the man told him that he believed
he could not; but he said that on some holiday he
would go to the place where Harry's bricks were, and
would show him how to build a nice little kiln, if
Harry's father would give him leave.

Harry's father accepted this good-natured offer; and
Harry plainly perceived that good conduct makes
friends, and that a poor brickmaker may be of use
even to persons who are not obliged to work for their
Whilst they were talking, Lucy was looking about,
and examining everything in the brick-field; and


she observed that at the farthest part of the field
some white linen was stretched upon the grass to dry,
and she noticed several bits of black dirt lying upon
the linen. They did not stick to the linen, but were
blown about by the wind, as they were very light.
Lucy picked up some of these black things; and
when she showed them to her mother, her mother told
her that they were bits of soot, which had been carried
by the wind from the brick-kiln.
"But, mamma," said Lucy, I don't.see any chimney
belonging to the brick-kiln, and soot, I believe, is al-
ways found in chimneys."
Mother. No, my dear, soot is smoke cooled; and
wherever there is smoke there is soot. A great quan-
tity of thick smoke rises from brick-kiln; or, to speak
more properly, a great quantity of smoke is carried up-
wards by the hot air that rises from a brick-kiln, and
when this smoke cools, parts of it stick together and
make what we call soot, which falls slowly to the
ground. This is some of it that has fallen upon the
white linen; and you see it because it is black, and the
linen upon which it has fallen is white.
Lucy. Why does it fall slowly ?
Mother. Because it is light; if it were heavier, it
would fall faster.
Lucy. What do you mean by light and heavy ?
Mother. You cannot yet understand all that I mean
by those words; but if you take two things which are
nearly of the same size in your hands, and if one of
them presses downwards the hand in which it is held
more than the other does, that may be called heavy,
and the other may be called light. You must observe,


Lucy, that they can be called heavy or light only as
compared together or weighed in your hands. For
instance, if you take a large wafer in one hand, and a
wooden button-mould of the same size in the other,
you will readily perceive that the button-mould is the
heavier. You might, therefore, say that the button-
mould is heavy, and the wafer is light.
But if you were to take the button-mould again in
one hand, and take a shilling in the other, you would
call the shilling heavy, and the button-mould light.
And if you were to lay down the button-mould, and
were to take a guinea into your hand instead of it, you
would find the shilling would appear light when com-
pared with the guinea.
Lucy. But, mamma, what do you compare the soot
with when you say it is light ?
Mother. I compare it in my mind with other things
of nearly the same size, as bits of saw-dust, or coal-
dust, or bits of gravel; but I cannot yet make you
entirely understand what I mean. When you have
learnt the uses and properties of more things, and
their names, I shall be better able to answer the ques-
tions you have asked me upon subjects which I cannot
explain to you now.

As they returned home, they saw a poor little girl
crying sadly, and she seemed to be very unhappy.
Lucy's mother said to her: "Poor girl! what is the
matter with you What makes you. cry so ."
Oh, madam," said the little girl, my mother sent
me to market with a basket of eggs, and I tumbled


down, and the eggs are all broken to pieces, and I am
very sorry for it. My mother trusted them to me, as
she thought I T.ould take care of them; and indeed,
I minded what I was about, but a man with a sack
upon his back was coming by, and he pushed me and
made me tumble down."
Mother. Will your mother be angry with you when
she knows it
Little girl. I shall tell my mother, and she will not
be angry with me; but she will be very sorry, and she
will cry, because she is very poor, and she will want
the bread which I was to have bought with the money
for which I ought to have sold the eggs; and my
brothers and sisters will have no supper.
When the little girl had done speaking, she sat
down again upon the bank, and cried very bitterly.
Little Lucy pulled her mother's gown, to make her
listen to her, and then she said softly, Mamma, may
I speak to the poor little girl ?"
Mother. Yes, Lucy.
Lucy. Little girl, I have some eggs at home, and I
will give them to you, if my mamma will let me go
for them.
My dear," said Lucy's mother to her, "our house
is at a distance; and if you were to try to go back by
yourself, you could not find the way. If the little
girl will come to-morrow to my house, you may give
her the eggs; she is used to go to market, and knows
the road. In the mean time, my poor little girl, come
with me to the baker's at the top of the hill, and I
will give you a loaf to carry home to your mother;
you are a good girl to tell the truth."


So Lucy's mother took the little girl to the baker's
shop, and bought a loaf, and gave it to her; and the
little girl thanked her, and put the loaf under her
arm, and walked homewards, very happy.

As he was going over a stile, Harry dropped his
handkerchief out of his pocket, and it fell into some
water, and was made quite wet. He was forced to
carry it in his hand, until they came to a house, where
his father told him he would ask leave to have it dried
for him. And he asked the mistress of the house to
let Harry go to the fire to dry his handkerchief. And
while he held it at the fire, Lucy said she saw a great
smoke go from the handkerchief into the fire; and her
mother asked her how she knew it was smoke ?
Lucy. Because it looks like smoke.
Mother. Hold this piece of paper in what you think
like smoke, and try if you can catch any of those black
things that were in the smoke you saw in the brick-
Lucy. No, mamma, it does not blacken the paper in
the least; but it wets the paper.
Mother. Hold this cold plate in what you call
smoke, that comes from the handkerchief.
Lucy. Mamma, I find the plate is wet.
Mother. What is it, then, that comes from the
Lucy. Water-the water with which it was wetted
when it fell into the ditch.
Mother. What makes the water come out of it?
Lucy. The heat of the fire, I believe.


Mother. At tea-time, to-night, remind me to show
you how water is turned into steam, and how steam
is turned into water.
When they reached home, Harry and Lucy went
immediately, without losing any time, to cast up
two sums in arithmetic, which they were accustomed
to do every day.
Harry could cast up sums in common addition
readily; and Lucy understood the rule called subtrac-
tion; and she knew very well what was meant by the
words borrowing and paying, though it is not easy to
understand them distinctly. But she had been taught
carefully by her mother, who was a woman of good
sense, and who was more desirous that her daughter
should understand what she did, than that she should
merely be able to go on as she was told to do, without
knowing the reason of what she was about.
And after they had shown the sums which they had
mast up to their mother, they sat down to draw.
Lucy was learning to draw the outlines of flowers,
and she took a great deal of pains, and looked atten-
tively at the print she was copying. And she was not
in a hurry to have done, or to begin another flower;
but she minded what she was about, and attended to
everything that her mother had desired her the day
before to correct. After she had copied a print of
periwinkle, she attempted to draw it from the flower
itself, which she had placed in such a manner as to
have the same appearance as the print had, that she
might be able to compare her drawing from the print
with her drawing from the flower.


She found it was not so easy to draw from the latter
as from the former; but every time that she tried it
became easier. And she was wise enough to know that it
was better to be able to draw from things themselves, or
from nature, as it is called, than from other drawings;
because everybody may everywhere have objects before
them which they may imitate. By practice they may
learn to draw or delineate objects so well as to be able
to express upon paper, &c., to other people, whatever
curious things they meet with.
The habit of drawing is particularly useful to those
who study botany; and it was her love of botany that
made Lucy fond of drawing flowers.
She had a number of dried plants, the names of
which she knew; and she took great pleasure in the
spring, and in the beginning of summer, in gathering
such plants as were in flower, and in discovering, by
the rules of botany, to what class, order, genus, and
species they belonged.
Harry, also, knew something of botany; but he did
not learn to draw flowers. He was endeavouring,
with great care, to trace a map of the fields about his
father's house. He had made several attempts, and
had failed several times; but he began again, and
every time he improved.
He understood very well the use of a map. He
knew that it was a sort of picture of ground, by which
he could measure the size of every yard, or garden, or
field, or orchard, after it had been drawn upon paper,
as well as it could be measured upon the ground itself.
He could also draw a little with a rule and compasses;
he could describe a circle, and make an equilateral


triangle, and a right angle, and he had begun to learn
to write.

After they had drawn and written for one hour, it
was time for them to go and dress for dinner.
Harry's walk to the brick-field had made him very
hungry, so that he ate heartily.
Whilst he was eating, his mother told him that she
intended to send him into the garden, after dinner, for
some strawberries, that were just ripe; and she ad-
vised him not to eat so much pudding, if he wished to
eat strawberries.
Now, Harry had learnt, from experience, that if he
ate too much it would make him sick; he therefore
prudently determined not to have another spoonful of
A little while after dinner, Harry and Lucy went
with their mother into the garden; and Lucy was
desired to gather six strawberries, and Harry was
desired to gather four strawberries. Andwhen theywere
put together, Harry counted them, and found that they
made ten. Lucy was not obliged to count them, for
she knew by rote, or by heart, as it is sometimes
called, that six and four make ten.
Each of them then brought five strawberries; and
Harry knew, without counting, that when they were
put together, they would make ten. And Lucy knew
that the parcel of strawberries which they gathered
first, which made ten, would, when added to the second
parcel, which also consisted of ten, make twenty.
They now went and gathered ten more. One


gathered three, and the other gathered seven; and this
ten, added to the former number, made thirty. And
they went again, and brought ten more to their
mother. This ten was made up of eight and two; and
this ten, added to the thirty they had gathered before,
made forty.

Whilst they were eating them, Harry asked his
sister if she knew what was meant by ty in twenty
and thirty. Lucy laughed at him for supposing that
she did not know it, and said her father had told her.
Harry said that he knew before that teen, in the words
thirteen, fourteen, &c., meant ten; but he did not
know that ty, in twenty and thirty, &c., meant ten.
And he said he did not know why ten should have
three names-ten, teen, and ty.
Lucy said she could not tell. They asked their
father; and he told them that ten meant ten by itself,
without any other number joined to it; but that teen
meant ten with some other number joined to it; and
he asked Harry what thirteen meant.
Harry. I believe that it is three and ten, for three
joined or added to ten make thirteen. Fourteen is
plainly four and ten; fifteen five and ten. But why,
papa, is it not threeteen instead of being called thir-
Papa. Because it is easier to say thirteen than
Lucy. But why is it called twelve ? It should be
Harry. And eleven, papa, should be one-teen.


Papa. I cannot now explain to you, my dear, the
reason why we have not those names in English; but
you perceive that it is easy to remember the names
of fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, &c., because we remember
that four, five, six, come after one another, and we
perceive that all that is necessary is to add teen to
them. You see that fourteen means four and ten, four
added to ten.
Harry. But does ty in forty mean four added to
ten ?
Lucy replied that it did not.
Papa. No; it means four times ten; not ten added
to four, but ten added together four times; and fifty
means ten added together five times. So you see
that it is useful to have three names for ten, which
differ a little from each other, but which are also some-
thing like; for teen is like ten, and ty is like teen.
Teen is always used when ten is added to any number
as far as nineteen; and ty is always used when more
tens than one are counted, as far as a hundred.
Harry. Then twenty should be two-ty; and thirty
should be three-ty.
Papa. I told you before, my dear, that thirteen is
used instead of thvreeteen, because the former word is
more easily pronounced than the latter. Thirty is
used instead of three-ty, for the same reason.
Harry. But why is not twenty two-ty ?
Papa. Twenty is made up ofty and of twain, a word
that was formerly used for two. The word twain,
joined to ty makes twainty, which when spoken quickly
sounds like twenty.
Harry. But, papa, will you tell me another thing ?


SPapa. No, Harry, we have talked enough about
numbers at present; you -will be tired by thinking any
longer with much attention, and I do not wish that
you should be tired when you attend to what you are
about. Thinking without tiring ourselves is very
agreeable; but thinking becomes disagreeable if we
tire ourselves: and as thinking with attention is useful
and necessary, we should take care not to make it dis-
agreeable to ourselves.

It was now tea-time. Harry and Lucy usually
supped at the same time that their father and mother
drank tea. They thus had an opportunity of hearing
many useful and entertaining things that passed in
conversation; and Lucy, recollecting that her mother
had promised to tell her at tea-time something more
about smoke and steam, put her in mind of what she
had promised. Then her mother called for a lighted
wax candle, and for a lighted tallow candle, and she
desired Lucy to hold a cold plate over the wax candle,
and Harry to hold another cold plate over the tallow
candle, and in a short time a considerable quantity of
smoke, or soot, was collected upon each of the plates.
Another cold plate was held over the tea-urn, in which
water was boiling, and from which there issued a large
quantity of steam, or vapour of water. This steam was
stopped by the plate, which, by degrees, was covered
with a number of very small drops, not so lyrge as the
head of a minikin pin. After the plate had been held
over the steam a little longer, these drops became
larger; they attracted one another, that is to say, one


little drop was joined to another, and made a large
drop; and so on, till at length the drops ran so much
together as to lose their round shape, and to run over
the plate. Harry and Lucy were much entertained
with this experiment. Harry observed that the vapour
of water was very different from the vapour of a candle.
Papa. I am veryglad to find that you have so readily
learnt something of the meaning of the word vapour,
which I have purposely made use of in the place of the
word steam; but you are mistaken, my dear, in saying
vapour of a candle. Lampblack, soot, and smoke, are
formed from the vapour of the oily parts of burning
bodies. Formerly people made use of lamps instead
of candles, and the soot of those lamps was called
lampblack, though it should properly be called oil-
black. Now, pray, Harry, do you know the meaning
of the word evaporate?
Harry. I believe it means being turned into vapour.
Papa. Did you observe anything else in the experi-
ments which I have just shown to you?
Harry. Yes, papa; I saw that the vapour of oil was
solid when it was cold.
Papa. Condensed.
Harry. Yes, condensed.
Papa. And did you not observe, that the vapour of
water, when condensed, was fluid? And what did you
observe, Lucy?
Lucy. I thought, papa, that the soot, or lampblack,
which yol told me was the vapour of oil, did not seem
to turn into oil again when it was condensed; but
that it had an entirely different appearance from the
tallow and wax from which the oil came. Yet I


noticed that the vapour of water, when it was con-
densed, became water again.
Papa. I do not think, my dear children, that myr
time has been thrown away in showing you this experi-
ment. And as I wish to make you like to attends
to what is taught you, I will endeavour to make it:
agreeable to you, by joining the feeling of pleasure to
the feeling of attention in your mind; by givng'you.
pleasure, or the hope of pleasure, when you attend.
Harry. I know what you mean, papa; for if we hacT
not attended to what we were about, you would have?
endeavoured to give us pain.
Papa. No, Harry, you are a little mistaken. I don't:
wish to give you pain, unless when I want to prevent
you from doing something that would be hurtful to
yourself or to other people; and then I wish to asso-
ciate, that is, join pain with such actions. But I doa
not expect that little boys and girls should be as wise-
as men and women; and if you do not attend, I only
abstain from giving you pleasure.
Harry. But, papa, what pleasure ,were you going toc
give us?
Papa. I was not going to give you any immediate
or present pleasure, but only the hope of some pleasure;
to-morrow. Your mamma and I intend, to-morrow,
to walk to breakfast with her brother, your uncle, who
has come to live at a very pretty place not quite three-
miles from this house. He was formerly a physician,
and he has several curious instruments-a microscope,
an electrifying machine, an air-pump, and a collection
of fossils, and a few shells and prints; and he knows
very weij how to explain things to other people. And-


the pleasure that your mamma and Imeant to give you
was to take you with us to-morrow morning.
Harry and Lucy were very happy, when they were
going to bed, from the remembrance of the day that
they had passed, and from the hope of being happy
on the day which was to come.

At six o'clock in the morning Harry awoke, and
as they were to set out for Flower Hill at seven, he got
up and dressed himself with great alacrity, and Lucy
did the same. But, alas! their hopes were disap-
pointed; for a violent thunder-storm came on before
seven o'clock, which prevented their walk to their
Harry planted himself at the window, and examined
every cloud as it passed by, and every quarter of the
sky, in expectation of fair weather and sunshine. His
sister, who was older, knew that standing at the
window would not alter the weather; and she pru-
dently sat down to study botany before breakfast, and
to examine some flowers which she had gathered in
her walk the day before.
When Harry had stood some time at the window,
and could perceive no appearance of a change in the
sky, he turned about, and looked wistfully round him,
like a person who did not know what to do with him-
self. His mother, who at that instant came into the
room, could not help smiling at the melancholy figure
which she saw before her; and she asked Harry what
was the matter. Harry owned that he felt sorry and
sad, because he had been disappointed of the pleasure
which his father had promised him.


rMther. But, Harry, my dear, your father did not
promise you fine weather.
Harry. (Laughing.) No, mamma, I know he did not;
but I expected that it would be a fine day, and I am
sorry that it is not.
.Mother. Well, Harry, that is all.very natural, as it
is called, or, to speak more properly, it is what happens
commonly. But though you cannot alter the weather,
you may alter your own feelings, by turning your atten-
tion to something else.
Harry. To what else, mamma ?
Mother. You have several different occupations that
you are fond of; and if you turn your thoughts touany
of them, it will prevent you from feeling sad upon ac-
count of the disappointment that you have met with.
Besides; my dear Harry, the rain must, in some respects,
be agreeable to you, and it is certainly useful.
Harry. 0 yes, mamma, I know what you mean,-my
garden. It was indeed greatly in want of water, and
it cost me a great deal of trouble to carry water to it
twice every day. My peas will come on now, and I
shall have plenty of radishes. Thank you, mamma, for
putting me in mind of my garden; it has made me
more contented.
Harry's father now came in, and seeing that he was
cheerful, and that he bore his disappointment pretty
well, he asked him if he had ever seen a cork garden.
Harry. No, papa; I remember having seen a cork
model of a house, but I never saw the model of a gar-
den made of cork.
Papa. P~t this is not the model of a garden, but a
sort of small garden made upon cork. Here it is.


Harry. Why, this is nothing but the plate or saucer
that commonly stands under a flowerpot, with a piece
of cork, like the bung of a barrel, floating in water.
Papa. Notwithstanding its simplicity, it is capable,
to a certain degree, of doing what a garden does. It
can produce a sallad. Here are the seeds of cresses
and mustard; sprinkle them thinly upon this cork, and
lay it in the closet near the window that opens to-
wards the south.
Harry. When may I look at it again ?
Papa. Whenever you please. But do not touch or
shake it; for if you do, it will disturb the seeds from
the places where they now rest, and that will prevent
them from growing. In two or three days you will
see that cresses and mustard plants have grown from
these seeds.
Harry. Pray, papa, will the seeds grow on the cork
as they grow in the ground ?
Papa. No, my dear; it is not the cork that nourishes
the plant, but it is the water which makes it grow.
If you cover the bottom of a soup-plate with a piece
of flannel, and pour water into the plate, just high
enough to touch the flannel, and scatter seeds on the
surface of the flannel, they will grow upon it in the
same manner that they grow upon cork.
Harry. But if it is by the water only that the seeds
are made to grow, would they not thrive as well if
they were put upon the bottom of the plate without
any cork or flannel ?
Papa. No, my little friend, they would not; because
if there were only enough water in the plate to cover
half of each of the seeds, it would be so shallow as to


ui. evaporated- (you know what that means, Harry)
before the seeds could grow. Perhaps, also, the surface
of the plate may be so smooth as to prevent the fibres
of the roots from taking hold of it. And there are
many more reasons which occur to me, why it is pro-
bable that they would not grow.
Harry. But we can try, papa.
Papa. Yes, my dear, that is the only certain method
of knowing.

Lucy's mother recollected that she had last year pro-
mised to show her how butter was made; and as the rain
in the morning had prevented Lucy from going to her
uncle's, her mother thought it would be a good oppor-
tunity for taking her into the dairy, where the dairymaid
was churning. Little Harry was permitted to go with
his sister.
They remembered the wide shallow pans which they
had seen the year before. They recollected that their
mother had told them that the cream, or oily part of
the milk, which was the lightest, separated itself from
the heaviest part; or, to speak more properly, that the
heaviest part of the milk descended towards the bottom
of the pans, and left the cream, or lightest part, upper-
most; and that this cream was skimmed off twice every
day, and laid by till a sufficient quantity, that is to say,
five or six, or any larger number of quarts, was collected.
They now saw twelve quarts, or three gallons of
cream, put into a common churn; and the dairymaid
put the cream in motion, by means of the churn-staff
which she moved up and down with a regular motion
for.seven -or eight minutes. When she appeared tired,


another of the maids took the churn-staff from her, and
worked in her stead; and so on alternately for about
three-quarters of an hour, when the butter began to
come, as it is called, or to be collected in little lumps
in the cream. Harry and Lucy were much surprised
when the lid or cover of the churn was taken off, to see
small lumps of butter floating in the milk. They saw
that the cream had changed its colour and consistency,
and that several small pieces of butter were swimming
on its surface. These pieces of butter were collected
and joined together into one lump by the dairymaid,
who poured some cold water into the churn to make
the butter harder, and to make it separate more easily
from the milk, which had become warm with the quick
motion that had been used to make the butter come.
Then she carefully took it all out of the churn and put
it into a wooden dish, and pressed and squeezed it so
as to force all the milk out of it. She then washed it
very clean, in cold water, a great many times, and with
a wooden thing called a slice, which is like a large flat
saucer, she cut the lump of butter that she had made
into pieces, in order to pull out of it all the cow's hairs
that had fallen into the milk, of which the cream had
been made.
Many of these hairs stuck to the slice, and others
were picked out, which appeared as the butter was cut
in pieces. The butter was then well washed, and the
water in which it had been washed, was squeezed out
of it. The butter was now put into a pair of scales,
and it weighed nearly three pounds. Some of it was
rolled into cylinders, of about half-a-pound weight each,
and some of it was made into little pats, and stamped


with wooden stamps, which had different figures carved
upon them; and the impression of these figures was
marked upon the butter.
Lucy asked what became of the milk, or liquor, which
was left in the churn? Her mother told her that it
was called butter-milk, and that it was usually given
to the pigs.
Lucy. Mamma, I have heard that in Ireland, and
in Scotland, the poor drink butter-milk, and are very
fond of it.
Mother. Yes, my dear; but the butter-milk in Ire
land is very different from the butter-milk here, We
separate the thick part of the cream from the rest, for
the purpose of making butter; but in Ireland they lay
by the thinner part, which is only milk, as well as the
thick cream, for churning, and they add to it the richest
part of the new milk, which is what comes last from
the cow when she is milked; and what is left after the
butter is made, is, for this reason, not so sour, and is
more nourishing than the butter-milk in this country.
Lucy. Do they not sometimes make whey of butter-
milk and new milk ?
Mother. Yes, my dear, whey is made of butter-milk
and skimmed milk; but it is not thought so pleasant
or useful in this kingdom, though it is much liked in
Ireland; probably because the butter-milk here is not
so good as it is in Ireland. I am told that it is fre-
quently preferred in that country to any other kind of
whey, even by those who are rich enough to have wine-
whey. You see, my dear Lucy, that small circum-
stances make a great difference in things. I have
heard it said that the Irish poor must be very wretched


indeed, if they are forced to use butter-milk instead of
,milk; but the fact is, their butter-milk is so much
better than ours, that they frequently prefer it to new
Inilk. To judge wisely, we must be careful to make
,ourselves acquainted with the facts about which we
are to judge.
Harry. Pray, mamma, why does dashing about the
anilk with the churn-staff make butter ?
MothLer. The process of making butter is not yet
exactly understood. Cream consists of oil, whey, and
-curd, and an acid peculiar to milk. You know what
is meant by an acid.
Lucy. Not very well. I know it means what is sour.
Mother. Yes, my dear, sourness is one of the pro-
cperties of acids; and when you have acquired a know-
ledge of a greater number of facts, that you can compare
-with one another, I shall be better able to explain to
you what is meant by many terms that I cannot at
,present make you understand.
Harry. But, mamma, you have not yet told us why
.churning makes butter ?
Mother. My dear, it does not make butter; it only
separates the oily or buttery parts of the cream from
the curd, or cheesy part, and from the whey. We do
aot know exactly how this is done by churning; but
it is probable that, by striking the cream with the
churn-staff, or by shaking it violently, the oily parts
nor particles are from time to time forced nearer toge-
ther, which enables them to attract each other.
Harry. Yes, mamma, I know what that is; just as
globules of quicksilver rmn together, when they are
near enough.


Mother. Globules Harry, where did you find that
new word?
Harry. Papa told it to me the other day, when I
was looking at some quicksilver that he had let fall.
He told me the little drops of quicksilver, or mercury,
which look like balls, were called globules, or little
Lucy. And, mamma, the drops of dew and rain
stand on several leaves separate from one another. On
a nasturtium leaf I have seen drops of water almost as
round as drops of quicksilver; and when I pushed two
-f the drops near one another, they ran together and
formed one larger drop.
Mother. They were attracted together, as it is
Lucy. But the larger drop, which was made of the
two drops, was not twice as large as either of the two
small ones?
Mother. Are you sure of that, Lucy?
Lucy. No, mamma; but I thought so.
Mother. Two drops of mercury of the same size, or
two drops of any other fluid, when they join, do not
form a drop that is twice as large in breadth or dia-
meter as one of the small drops, but such a drop
contains exactly as much, and weighs as heavy, as the
two small drops.
Harry. I do not understand you, mamma.
Mother. I will endeavour by degrees to make you
understand me; but it cannot be done at once, and you
have attended enough now. Lucy, it is time to read;
let us go on with the account of the insects, which you
were reading yesterday.


Then Lucy, and Harry, and their mother, left the
dairy, and returned to the drawing-room.
Mother. Here, Harry, sit down, and listen to what
your sister reads. You will soon be able to read to your-
self without assistance; which, in time, will become an
agreeable employment.
Lucy now read in the Guardian, No. 157, a very
entertaining account of the industry and ingenuity of
Both Harry and she wished that they could find
some ants' nests, that they might see how they carried
on their works. Their mother said that she could
show them an ants' nest in the garden, and as it had
done raining, she took them into the garden, and
showed them two little holes in the ground, where the
ants had formed cells, which served them for houses,
to live in, and for store-houses to keep their eggs and
food. They were busily employed in making a road,
or causeway, from one of these holes to the other.
Great numbers were employed in carrying earth, to
repair breaches which had been made in their work by
the rain.
Harry laid some dead flies, and some small crumbs
of bread, upon the track where the ants were at work;
but they were not diverted from their labour by this
temptation. On the contrary, they pushed the dead

For many interesting particulars concerning animals, insects,.
&c., consult White's Natural History of Selborne, edited by the
Rev. J. G. Wood, and illustrated with above 200 illustrations.
Price 5s. cloth. Also, A Tour Round my Garden, by Alphonse
Karr. Revised and edited by the Rev. J. G. Wood. 117 illustra-
tions. Price 5s. Ask for Routledge's editions.


flies and the crumbs out of their way, and went steadily
on with their business. Harry's mother told him she
had tried the same experiment before, and that,
perhaps, another time the ants might choose to eat,
instead of pushing away the food that was offered to
Harry and Lucy waited patiently watching the ants,
till it was time to dress for dinner.
After dinner, Harry's father told him that the
weather was sufficiently fine for their jaunt to Flower
Hill. Harry now saw that it was not such a great
misfortune, as he had thought it in the morning, to
have his walk deferred; and he and Lucy set out joy-
fully with their father and mother, on a visit to their
Their way was through some pretty fields, and over
stiles, and through a wood, and along a shady lane.
As they passed through the fields, Harry, when they
came to a corn-field, was able to tell the name of the
grain which was growing in it, and Lucy told him the
names of several of the wild-flowers and weeds which
were growing amongst the corn and under the hedges.
During the last year Harry had learnt to be very
active in body as well as in mind; and when he came
to a low stile, he put his hands upon the top rail, and
vaulted nimbly over it. And Lucy ran almost as fast
as her brother, and was very active in every exercise
that was proper for a little girl.
They soon came to a windmill, which went round
with great quickness. It was not necessary for his
father to warn Harry not to go too near the arms or
sails of the windmill, as he had read in a Present for


a Little Boy how dangerous it is to go within the reach
of a windmill's sails. He was not, however, foolishly
afraid, but wisely careful. He kept out of the reach
of the sails, but he was not afraid of going to the door,
or to the wheel and lever, by which the top was turned
round. He counted, with the assistance of his father,
the number of turns which the sails made in a
His father looked at his watch during one minute;
and Harry counted the number of revolutions, or
turns, that the sails made in that time. He found
that they went round forty-five times in a minute.
Lucy observed that the middle of the sails moved
round through a very small space, but that the ends,
or tips of them, went very fast.
Papa. My dear, you see a black spot in that part of
the cloth of the sails, which is near the centre of the
arms, goes as often round as the tips of the sails.
What, then, do you mean by saying that the tips move
very fast?
Lucy. I mean that they go a great way in a little
Papa. What do you mean by a great way?
Lucy. I am afraid that I cannot explain myself
clearly. I mean, that the tips of the windmill sails go
through a great way in the air; I believe I should say
that they describe a very large circle, and the part of
the sails that is near the centre describes a small circle.
Papa. Now I understand you distinctly: the circle,
which the tips describe is very large, when compared
with that described by the part near the centre. I
have tried several times how fast the tips of windmill


sails move; and when there was a brisk wind they
moved a mile in a minute.

Harry. That is very fast, indeed! But how could
you tell this, papat
Papa. I cannot explain to you now; but at some
future time I will.
They went through a wood, where they saw squir-
rels jumping from tree to tree with great agility; and
rabbits sitting up on their hind legs, looking about
them, and running from one hole to another as if they
were at play. Harry asked several questions about
the squirrels and rabbits, and about woodpeckers, and
other birds that he saw. By these means, he and Lucy
got some knowledge in their walk, and were amused
the whole of the way to their uncle's.
Harry. Papa, this walk puts me in mind of Eyes
and no Eyes," in Evenings at Home. I feel very glad
to find that things which I have read in that book are
like real things, and that what I have read is of use to me.

Neither Lucy nor Harry had ever seen their uncle
Brown; and they expected, as he was called Doctor,
that he must be a very grave old man, who would not
take the trouble to talk to little children. They were,
however, much mistaken; for they found that he
was cheerful, and that he talked to them a great deal.
After tea, he took them into his study, in which, be-
side a great many books, there were several instru-
ments and machines of different sorts.
They had both seen a barometer and thermometer at


home; but the barometer at Doctor Brown's was much
larger than any Harry had seen before; and it was
not fixed up against the wall, but was hung upon a
stand with three legs, in such a manner, that when it
was touched it swung about; and the shining quick-
silver, withinside of it, rose and fell so as to show that
it did not stick to the tube which contained it. There
were an air-pump, and a microscope, and a wooden
orrery in the room, and a pair of very large globes.
Doctor Brown let Harry examine them. And he
was so good as to answer all the questions that either
Lucy or Harry asked him.
Harry asked him what that shining liquid was which
he saw in the tube of the barometer?
Doctor Brown. It is a metal called quicksilver; and
it is found in mines under-ground.
SHarry. My papa showed me quicksilver the other
day, and it was liquid, and was spilt on the table, and
on the floor; and how can that be a metal! I thought
metals were all solid.
Doctor Brown. So they all are when they are suffi-
ciently cold.
Harry. Then is quicksilver hotter than iron?
Doctor Brown. I cannot explain to you at present
what you want to know.
Harry. What is that globe made of ?
Doctor Brown. Of pasteboard and plaster.
Harry. How is it made round? I thought paste-
board was made of flat sheets of paper pasted upon one
Doctor Brown. Flat pasteboard is; but the pasteboard
upon this globe is made round by means of a round


mould, upon which it is formed. You know, I suppose,
what a mould is.
Harry. Yes, I do, pretty well. But how can the
pasteboard, after it is all pasted together, be taken off
a round mould ?
Doctor Brown. After it is dry, it is cut all round
with a knife; and then it will come off the mould in
two caps, as the shell of a nut, when it is opened with
a knife, comes off the kernel.
Harry. What is the use of this machine, which you
call an air-pump ?
Doctor Brown. To pump air out of that glass vessel
which you see.
Harry. I do not quite understand you, uncle.
Doctor Brown. No, my dear, it is not probable that
you can; but I will soon give you a little book, which
will teach you the uses of several instrumentsof this sort.
Harry. My dear uncle, I cannot tell you how much
I should be obliged to you.
Harry and Lucy were much delighted with what
they saw at their uncle's; and as they had not been
troublesome, he asked their father and mother to bring
them to Flower Hill when they next came to see him.
They returned home that evening, just before it was
dark and went to bed by moonlight.
Thus ends an account of three days passed by Harry
and Lucy. One day when Harry was about five, and
Lucy six years old. And two days, a year afterwards,
when Lucy was seven, and Harry six years of age.*
The Rev. J. G. Wood's Natwral History may be read with
advantage to young children. It contains nearly 500 illustrations,
and may be had of the publishers, bound in cloth, for six shillings.


IT was Lucy's business to call her father every morn-
ing. She watched the clock, and when it was the right
time she used to go softly into her father's room, and
to open the curtain of his bed, and to call him.
Papa papa it is time for you to get up."
Then she drew back the window curtains, and
opened the shutters, and she put everything ready for
him to dress. She liked to do this for her father, and
he liked that she should do it for him, because the
attending upon him taught her to be'neat and orderly.
She and her brother Harry both liked to be in the
room with their father when he was dressing, because
then he had leisure to talk to them. Every morning
he used to tell or teach them something that they did
not know before.
One morning, in the beginning of winter, when the
weather was cold, Lucy said, "It is much colder in
this room, to-day, papa, than it was when you got up
"Oh, no I think it is not nearly so cold to-day as
it was yesterday, when my father was dressing," said
Harry. "What do you think, papa ?"
Their father went and looked at something that
hung in his window, and then answered, I think that.
it is neither hotter nor colder in this room to-day than
it was yesterday, at the time when I was dressing.'


Are you smuo, papa F" said Lucy.
"Quite sure, my dear."
"How can you be quite sure, papa said Lucy;
how do you know ?"
"I can tell how papa knows," cried Harry; "he
looked at the thermometer."
"But how does he know by looking at the thermo-
meter ?" said Lucy.
"Come here, and I will show you, for I know,"
cried Harry. "Stand up on this chair beside me, and
I will show you. My uncle told me all about it last
summer, when I was looking at the thermometer at
his house."
"Look; do you see this glass tube ?"
Yes; I have seen that very often."
"I know that; but do you see this part of the tube,
at the top, seems to be empty; and this part of it here,
at the bottom, and half way up the glass tube, is full
of something white. Do you know what it is ?"
"Yes; I remember very well my uncle told me that
is quicksilver; but what then?"
"Stay, be patient, or I cannot explain it to you.
Do you see these little marks, these divisions marked
upon the edge here, upon the ivory, by the side of the
glass tube ?"
"Yes; well."
And do you see these words printed ?"
"Yes-freezing, temperate, blood-heat, boiling-water
heat. I have read those words very often, but I don't
know what they nean."
When it is neither very hot nor very cold, people
say it is temperate and then the quicksilver would be


just opposite to that division where temperate is
written. When it freezes, the quicksilver would be
down here, at the freezing-point; and, if this thermo-
meter were put into boiling water, the quicksilver
would rise up, and it would be just at the place where
boiling water is written. Blood-heat, I believe, means
the heat that people's blood is generally, but I am
.ot sure about that. Look, here are the numbers
of the degrees of heat br cold. Boiling water heat
is 212 degrees; and when it is freezing, it is 32 de-
And the heat of this room now is-look, what is
it, Lucy?"
Lucy said it was above the long line marked 40.
SCount how many of the little divisions it is above
40," said Harry.
She counted, and said seven; and her father told her
to add that number to 40, which made 47.
Then Lucy asked how her father knew that it
was as cold, and no colder, in his room to-day than it
was yesterday morning.
Because, yesterday morning, the quicksilver rose
just to the same place, namely, to 47 degrees, as it
does to-day. It always rises or falls, with the same
degree of heat or cold, to the same place; to the same
"But look, look, it is moving The quicksilver is
rising higher and higher in the glass !" cried Lucy.
"Look! now it is at fifty-fifty-two-fifty-five."
"Yes; do you know the reason of that said


No, I do not know," said Lucy; "for it is not in
the least degree warmer now in this room, I think,
than it was when we first looked at the thermometer.''
"That is true; but you have done something, Lucy,
to the thermometer, that has made the quicksilver
"I! What have I done ? I have not even touched
it !"
But you have put your face close to it, and your
warm breath has warmed the glass. Now, look, when
I put my hand, which I have just warmed at the fire,
upon the bottom of the thermometer, upon this little
round ball or bulb where the greatest portion of the,
quicksilver is-look how it rises in the tube And now
I will carry the thermometer near the fire, and yon
will see how much more the quicksilver will rise."
Lucy looked at it, and she saw that the quicksilver
rose in the thermometer when it was brought near the
As Harry was putting it still closer to the fire, his
father called to him, and begged that he would take
care not to break the thermometer.
Oh yes, papa, I will take care. If you will give
me leave now, I will put it into this kettle of water
which is on the fire, and see whether the water is
boiling or not. If it is boiling, the quicksilver will
rise to boiling-water heat, will it not ? I will hold the
thermometer by the string at the top, so I shall not
burn my fingers."
His father stood by, while Harry tried this experi-
ment; and Lucy saw that, when the water boiled, the


quicksilver rose to boiling-water heat; that is, to 212
Then Hairy carried the thermometer back again to
the window, and left it to cool for some minutes; and
they saw that the quicksilver fell to the place where it
had been when they first looked at the thermometer
this morning; that is to say, to 47 degrees.
Now, you see," said Harry, "the use of the ther-
mometer. It shows exactly how hot or how cold it is."
It measures the degrees of heat," said their father,
Sand the name thermometer means measure of heat,
from two Greek words; therno means heat, meter
means measure, as you may observe in the words baro-
meter, pyrometer, hygrometer, and many others."
"But why, papa, does the quicksilver rise in this
tube when it is hot, and fall when it is cold ? I do
not understand that," said Lucy.
"That is a sensible question," said her father; "and
I am not sure that I can answer it so as to make you
understand me. It has been found from experience,
my dear, that quicksilver expands; that is, spreads out
-takes up more room-when it is heated than when
it is cold, and it always expands equally when it is in
the same heat. So that, by knowing how much more
room it takes up, for instance, when it is held near the
fire than it did when it was hanging in the window.
we could know how much greater the heat is near the
fire than at the window. Do you understand me,
Lucy, my dear ?"
Yes, papa; I think I do. You say, that when the
quicksilver is heated, it I forget the word."
Expands," cried Harry.


"Yes, expands. When quicksilver is heated it ex-
pands, papa."
"But what do you mean by expands, my little girl ?"
"It spreads out every way; its size increases; it
takes up more room."
S"Very well. And what then ?"
Why, then, as it expands when it is heated, people
can tell, by seeing or measuring the size of the quick-
silver, how hot it is."
True: but how do you think they know exactly
how much it increases in size or bulk, when it is heated
to different degrees of heat How do they measure
and see at once the measure of this V"
"With a pair of compasses, papa V" said Lucy.
"Look at this little ball, or globe of quicksilver,'
said her father, pointing to a little ball of quicksilver
in the glass, at the bottom of the thermometer. Would
it not be difficult to measure this with a pair of com-
passes, every time you applied heat to it ?"
"That would be difficult, to be sure," said Lucy.
"There must be some other way. Some way, too,
by which it can be measured without taking the quick-
silver out of the glass every time."
I know the way !" cried Harry.
"Don't speak; don't tell her; let your sister think,
and find out for herself. And now I must shave; and
do not either of you talk to me, till I have done."
Whilst her father was shaving, Lucy looked at the
thermometer, and considered about it; and she observed
that the thin, tall line, or column of quicksilver, in the
little glass tube, rose from the bulb, or globe of quick-
silver, at the bottom of the thermometer; and when


she put her warm hand upon this bulb, the quicksilver
rose in the tube.
"I know it now !" cried Lucy. "But I must not
tell it till papa has done shaving, lest I should make
him cut himself."
As soon as papa had done shaving, Lucy, who had
stood patiently at his elbow, stretched out her hand,
and put the thermometer before his eyes.
"Here, papa now I will show you."
"Not so near, my dear; do not put it so close to my
eyes; for I cannot see it when it is held very near
to me," said her father.
There, papa; you can see it now," said Lucy, "can-
not you ? and you see the quicksilver in this little glass
globe at the bottom of the thermometer ?"
Yes, I see it," said her father.
"When it is heated, and when it expands," con-
tinued Lucy, it must have more room, and it cannot
get out at the bottom, or sides, or any way, but up this
little glass tube. There is an opening, you see, from
the uppermost part of that little globe into this glass
"Very well," said her father. Go oi, my dear."
Andwhen the quicksilver is made hotter andhotter,
it rises higher and higher, in this tube, because it wants
more and more room: and the height it rises to, shows
how hot it is, because that is just the measure of how
much the quicksilver has expanded-has grown larger.
And by the words, that are written here; and by these
little lines-these degrees, I believe, you call them, you
can know, and tell people exactly, how much the quick-
silver rises or falls; and that shows how hot it is."


"Pretty well explained Lucy; I think you under-
stand it."
But one thing she does not know," said Harry--
"that, in making a thermometer, the air must be first
driven out of the little tube, and the glass must be
kept quite closed at both ends, so as to keep out the
air. My uncle told me this. And now, papa," con-
tinued Harry, will you tell me something about the
barometer I know that it is not the same as the
thermometer; but I do not know the difference. Papa,
will you explain it to me?"
"Not now; you have had quite enough for this
morning, and so have I. I must make haste and finish
dressing, and go to breakfast."
"Yes; for mamma is ready, I am sure," cried Lucy,
"Here are your boots, papa !"
And here is your coat," said Harry.
"Papa, to-morrow morning, will you let us blow
bubbles, when you have done shaving T" said Lucy.
No, no; I want to hear about the barometer, to-
morrow," said Harry.
"We will settle this when to-morrow comes; and
now let us go to breakfast," said their father.*

At breakfast, as their father was looking at the news-
paper, he found an advertisement, which he read aloud,
It was to the effect that a man had brought an ele-
phant to a town in the neighbourhood, which he would
Many pleasing experiments and much useful information will
be found in the beautifully illustrated Every Boy's Book, price
8s. 6d., to be had of Messrs. Routledge and Co. The work forms
a complete Encyclopsdia of Sports and Amusements.


show to any persons who would pay a shilling apiece
for seeing it; and, that the elephant was to be seen
every day, for a week, between the hours of twelve and
Harry and Lucy wished very much to see an ele-
phant; they said that they would rather see it than
any other animal, because they had heard and read
many curious anecdotes of elephants. Their father
said that he would take them during the morning to the
neighboring town to see this elephant. Harry im-
mediately went for his Sandford and Merton,* and
Lucy jumped from her chair, and ran for her Instinct
Displayed. And they each found, in these books, anec-
dotes, or stories of elephants, which they were eager to
read to their father and mother. Lucy had not quite
finished breakfast, so Harry began first; and he read
the history of the tailor, who pricked the elephant's
trunk with his needle; and he read of the manner in
which the elephant punished him. Then he read the
account of the enraged elephant, who, when his driver's
child was thrown in his path, stopped short, in the
midst of his fury, and, instead of trampling upon the
infant, or hurting him, looked at him seemingly with
compassion, grew calm, and suffered himself to be led,
without opposition, to his stable.
When Harry had finished reading, Lucy said that
she liked these stories of the elephant; but that she had
read that part of Sandford and Merton so often, that
she had it almost by heart. But now," said she, I
will read you something that will, I hope, be quite new,

An illustrated edition of this work, price 3s. 6d., may be had
of Messrs. Routledge and Co.


even to papa and mamma; unless they have read my
Mrs. Wakefield's Instinct Displayed.
Then Lucy read an account of Rayoba's favourite
elephants, which were almost starved by their keepers
before it was discovered how their keepers cheated them
of their food. When the prince saw that his elephants
grew thin and weak, he appointed persons to see them
fed every day; and these people saw the keepers give
the elephants the food, of which they were most fond-
rich balls, called massaulla, composed of spices, sugar,
and butter, &c. The elephants took these balls up in
their trunks and put them into their mouths, in the
presence of the persons who were to see them fed; but
still the elephants, though they seemed to eat so much
every day, continued thin and weak.
"At length, the cheat was discovered; and it shows.
the extraordinary influence the keepers had obtained
over these docile animals. They had taught them, in
the inspectors' presence, to receive the balls, and to put.
them into their mouths with their trunks, but to ab-
stain from eating them; and these tractable creatures
actually had that command over themselves, that they
received this food, of which they are so remarkably
fond, and placed it in their mouths, but never chewed
it; and the balls remained untouched, until the in-
spectors" (that is, the people who had been appointed to
see them fed) "withdrew. The elephants then took
them out carefully, with their trunks, and presented
them to the keepers; accepting such a share only, as
they were pleased to allow them."*
Many entertaining stories will be found in the Rev. J. G.
Wood's Sketches and Anecdotes of Animal Life, to be had of the
publishers. The price of this work is 3s. 6d.


Lucy rejoiced at finding that this curious anecdote
was new to her brother, and even to her father and
mother. After they had talked about it for some
time, and admired the docility of these poor elephants,
Lucy told what she had read of another elephant, who
used to gather mangoes for his master, and to come
every morning to his master's tent, when he was at
breakfast, and wait for a bit of sugar-candy. Lucy's
-mother then desired her to bring from the library-
table the book which she had been reading on a former
evening-Mrs. Graham's Account of her Residence in
India. When Lucy had brought the book, her mother
showed her an account of an elephant which had saved
the life of an officer who fell under the wheel of a
carriage; and a description of the manner in which
,elephants are tamed: she told Lucy that she and
Harry, if they chose it, might read these passages.
They liked to read, particularly at this time, accounts
of this animal, that they might know as much as they
could of his history, before their father took them to
see the elephant. They were happy, reading together
what their mother had given them leave to read of
this book; and then they looked over the prints, and
by the time they had done this, their mother called
Lucy to her dressing-room, to write and to cast up
sums, and Harry went to his father's study, to learn
his Latin lesson. Harry and Lucy employed them-
selves regularly, for about an hour every morning,
after breakfast; and, in general, they attended closely
to what they were doing; therefore they made rapid
progress in their studies. Lucy was learning to write,
and she wrote about two lines carefully every day;


-always trying to correct, each day, faults of which her
mother had told her the preceding day. She was
also learning arithmetic; and she could, with the help
of a dictionary, make out the meaning of half a
page of French, without being much tired. She
knew that nothing can be learnt without taking
some trouble; but when she succeeded in doing better
and better, this made her feel pleased with herself, and
repaid her for the pains she took. She now read English
so well, that it was a pleasure to her to read; and to
her mother it was a pleasure to hear her. So the
reading English was always kept for the last of her
morning's employment. She was, at this time, reading
such parts of Evenings at Home* as she could under-
stand. This day she read the "Transmigrations of
Indur;" and after she had read this, in Evenings at
Home, her mother let her read a little poem, on the
same subject, which was written by a young gentleman,
a relation of hers. Lucy particularly liked the follow-
ing description of the metamorphosis, or change, of the
bee into an elephant?-

Now the lithe trunk, that sipp'd the woodland rose.
With strange increase, a huge proboscis grows;
His downy legs, his.feather-cinctur'd thighs,
Swell to the elephant's enormous size.
Before his tusks the bending forests yield;
Beneath his footsteps shakes th' astonished field ;

This entertaining work, so warmly recommended. by Miss
Edgeworth, is published by M'essrs. Routledge. Their edition is
beautifully illustrated, and sells at 38. 6d.


With eastern majesty he moves-along,
Joins in unwieldy sport the monster throng.
Roaming, regardless of the cultur'd soil,
The wanton herd destroy a nation's toil.
In swarms the peasants crowd, a clam'rous band,
Raise the fierce shout, and snatch the flaming brand;
Loud tramp the scared invaders o'er the plain,
And reach the covert of their woods again."
By the time Lucy had finished reading, and had
worked a little, and copied the outline of a foot and of
a hand, her mother told her to put by all her books,
work, and drawings, and to get ready to go out; for it
was now the hour when her father had said that he
would take Lucy and her brother to see the elephant.

Harry and Lucy walked with their father to the
neighboring town, which was about a mile and a half
distant from their home: they went, by pleasant paths,
across the fields. It was frosty weather, so the paths
were hard; and the children had fine running and
jumping, tnd they warmed themselves thoroughly.
When she was very warm, Lucy said, Feel my hand,
papa; I am sure, if I were to take the thermometer in
my hand now, the quicksilver would rise finely. How
high, papa? to how many degrees do you think it
would rise ?"
"I think," answered her father, "to about seventy
degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer."
"Fahrenheit's thermometer! Why do you call it
Fahrenheit's thermometer? I thought it was your
thermometer, papa T" said Lucy.
So it is, my dear; that is, it belongs to me, but it


is called Fahrenheit's, because a person of that name
first divided the scale of the thermometer in the
manner in which you saw mine divided. There are
other thermometers, divided in a different manner;
some of these are called Reaumur's thermometers,
because they were first divided so by a person of the
name of Reaumur."
But, papa, will you tell me," said Harry, some-
thing about the barometer ?"
His father stopped him. "I cannot tell you any-
thing about that now, my dear; run on, or we shall
not have time to see the elephant; for the keeper of
the elephant shows him only till three o'clock each
day." Harry and Lucy ran on, as fast as they could,
and they were quite in time to see the elephant.
They were surprised at the first sight of this animal.
Though they had read descriptions, and had seen
prints of elephants, yet they had not formed an exact
idea of the reality. Lucy said that the elephant
appeared much larger; Harry said it was smaller than
what he had expected to see. Lucy said that, till she
saw it, she had no idea of the colour, or of the wrinkled
appearance of the elephant's skin. The keeper of this
elephant ordered him to pick up a little bit of money,
which he held upon the palm of his hand. Imme-
diately the obedient animal picked it up, with the end
of his proboscis, and gave it to his keeper. Lucy said,
she had never had a clear notion how it moved its
trunk, or proboscis, nor how it could pick up such
small things with it, till she saw it done. Harry said,
that he had never had an idea of the size or shape of
the elephant's feet till he saw them. Lucy said the


prints had given her no idea of the size of its ears, or
of the breadth of its back. Both she and her brother
agreed that it is useful and agreeable to see real things
and live animals, as well as to read or hear descriptions
of them.
The keeper of this elephant was a little, weak-
looking man. Harry and Lucy admired the obedience
and gentleness of this powerful animal, which did what-
ever his master desired, though sometimes it appeared
to be inconvenient and painful to it to obey. For
instance, when the elephant was ordered to lie down,
he bent his fore knees and knelt on them; though it
seemed to be difficult and disagreeable to it to put
itself into this posture, and to rise again from its-
knees. Lucy asked what this elephant lived upon,
and how much it ate every day. The man said that
he fed the elephant upon rice and vegetables, and he
showed a bucket which, he said, held several quarts.
This bucketful the elephant had every day. There
was, in one corner of the room, a heap of raw carrots,
of which, the keeper said, the elephant was fond; he
held a carrot to the animal, which took it gently, and
ate it. When Lucy saw how gently the elephant took
the carrot, she wished to give it one with her own
hand; and the man told her that she might. But
when Lucy saw the elephant's great trunk turning
toward the carrot, which she held out to him, she was
frightened; she twitched back her hand, and pulled
the carrot away from the elephant, just as he was
going to take it. This disappointment made him very
angry; and he showed his displeasure by blowing air
through his proboscis, with a sort of snorting noise,


which frightened Lucy. Harry, who was more
courageous, and who was proud to show his courage,
took the carrot, marched up to the elephant, and gave
it to him. The animal was pacifiae directly, and
gently took the carrot with his proboscis, turned back
the proboscis, and put the carrot into his mouth.
Harry, turning to his father, with a look of some self-
satisfaction, said that "the great Roman general,
Fabricius, was certainly a very brave man, not to have
been terrified by the dreadful noise made by king
Pyrrhus's elephant, especially as Fabricius had never
seen an elephant before." Lucy did not know what
Harry alluded to, or what he meant; because she had
not yet read the Roman history. He said that he
would show her the passage in the Roman history, as
soon as they reached home. And now, having looked
at the elephant as long as they wished, and having
asked all the questions they wanted to ask, they went
away. They were glad to get out into the fresh air
again, for the stable in which the elephant lived, had
a very disagreeable smell. Lucy pitied this animal
for being cooped up, as she said, in such a small room,
instead of being allowed to go about, and to enjoy his
liberty. Harry then thought of horses, which live
shut up, for a great part of their lives, in stables. He
asked his father whether he thought that horses which
have been tamed, or broken in, as it is called, and
which are kept in stables and taken care of by men,
are happier, or less happy, than wild horses. His
father said, he thought this must depend upon the
manner in which the horses are fed and treated: he
observed, that if horses which are tamed by man are


constantly well fed, and are protected from the incle-
mencies of the weather, and are only worked with
moderation, it is probable that they are happy;
because, in these circumstances, they are usually in
good health and fat, and their skins look sleek, smooth,
and shining. From these signs we may guess that
they are happy; but, as they cannot speak and tell us
what they feel, we cannot be certain.
During the walk home, Harry and Lucy took
notice of many things. There was scarcely an hour in
their lives in which they did not observe and learn
something. One subject of observation and of con-
versation led to another; but it is impossible to give
an account of all these things.
When they got home, Lucy reminded her brother
of his promise about Fabricius and the elephant. He
showed her the passage in the Roman history, which
he had read; and that evening Lucy asked her mother
if she might read the whole of her brother's Roman
history. Her mother gave her a little History of
omne,* with sixty-four prints in it; and she told
Lucy, that when she knew all the facts told in this
history, it would be time enough to read another,
which might tell her more particulars of the Roman

The next day being Sunday, Harry and Lucy went,
with their father and mother, to church. The morning
lesson for this day was a chapter of the Bible contain-
ing a portion of the history of Joseph and his brethren.
Probably Mrs. Trimmer's.


Harry and Lucy listened attentively, and when they
came home from church ttey told their father that
they wished very much to know the end of that history,
of which they had heard the beginning read by the cler-
gyman at church. Their father took down, from his
book-case, the large family Bible, and he read the whole
of the history of Joseph and his brethren, with which
the children were very much interested and touched'
In the evening they each read to their mother one
of Mrs. Barbauld's Hymns in Prose for Children1
Harry and Lucy loved these hymns, and they showed?
their mother the passages that they liked particularly
in those which they read this day.
Mamma, this is the passage which I like the bestj,s
said Lucy.
"' Look at the thorns, that are white with blossoms.
and the flowers that cover the fields, and the plants-
that are trodden in the green path: the hand of man
hath not planted them; the sower hath not scattered
the seeds from his hand, nor the gardener digged a
place for them with his spade.
"'Some grow on steep rocks, where no man can
climb; in shaking bogs, and deep forests, and desert
islands; they spring up everywhere, and cover the
bosom of the whole earth.
"'Who causeth them to grow everywhere, and

and giveth them colours and smells, and spreadeth out
their thin, transparent leaves ?
"' How doth the rose draw its crimson from the
dark brown earth, or the lily its shining white ? How
can a small seed contain a plant *


'Lo these are a part of his works, and a small
portion of his wonders.
"' There is little need that I should tell you of God,
for everything speaks of him.' "
Harry was silent for a moment after he had heard
these passages read again, and then he said, "I like
that very much indeed, Lucy: but now let me read to
you, mamma, what I like better still:-
"' Negro woman, who sittest pining in captivity,
and weepest over thy sick child, though no one seeth
thee, God seeth thee; though no one pitieth thee, God
pitieth thee. Raise thy voice, forlorn and abandoned
one; call upon Him, from amidst thy bonds, for assu-
redly He will hear thee.
"' Monarch, that rulest over a hundred states, whose
frown is terrible as death, and whose armies cover the
land, boast not thyself, as though there were none
above thee. God is above thee; His powerful arm is
always over thee, and, if thou doest ill, assuredly He
will punish thee.'"

The next morning, when Harry and Lucy went
into their father's room, Harry drew back the curtain
of his father's bed, and said, "Father, you promised to
tell me something about the barometer, and it is time
to get up."
SHis father answered, without opening his eyes, "Do
you see two tobacco pipes 1"
Harry and Lucy laughed, for they thought that
their father was dreaming of tobacco pipes, and talking
of them in his sleep. Lucy recollected that her mother


said he had been writing letters late the night before,
and she said to her brother, "We had better let him
sleep a little longer."
"Yes, do my dear," said her father, in a sleepy
voice; and take the two tobacco pipes, and my soap,
and my basin, and the hot water, Lucy, that you
brought for my shaving, and you may blow soap
bubbles in the next room for half an hour, and, at the
end of that time, come and arouse me again."
SHarry looked about the room, and he found, on his
father's table, the two tobacco pipes which he had been
so good as to put there the night before. Taking care
to move softly, and not to make any noise that should
distIrb their father, they carried out of the room with
them the hot water, basin, soap, and tobacco pipes.
During the next half-hour they were so happy, blow-
ing bubbles, watching them swell and mount into the
air, and float, and burst, trying which could blow the
largest bubbles, or the bubbles which would last the
longest, that the half-hour was gone before they
thought that a quarter of an hour had passed. But
Lucy heard the clock strike, and immediately she
knew that the half-hour was over, and that it was
time to go and call her father again. So she went
directly, for she was very punctual. Her father was
now awake, and he got up; and, while he was getting
up, she began to talk to him of the pretty soap
bubbles which they had been blowing; but Harry was
impatient to ask his father something about the baro-
"Now, Lucy, let us have done with the soap
bubbles," said Harry; "I want to learn something


seriously. Papa, I want to understand the barometer
perfectly before I go next week to my uncle's, that he
may find I am not so ignorant as I was the last time
he saw me; and, besides, my cousin Frederick will be
at home, and he is only a year or two older than I
am; and my uncle says that Frederick understands
the use of all the instruments in his room. I did not
understand even the barometer. Father, will you
explain it to me this morning ?"
"Just let me first show papa this one large bubble,"
said Lucy, "and then you may go to the barometer."
Lucy blew a large bubble from the end of her
tobacco pipe, but it burst before it had risen far.
Then Lucy put down the tobacco pipe, and said, Now
I will not interrupt you any more with my bubbles."
"But perhaps, my dear Lucy," said her father, the
bubbles may lead us to the knowledge of some things
necessary to be known, before I can explain a baro-
meter. Do you know what a bubble is ?"
Oh, yes, papa," said she; "I remember you told
me, a great while ago,-a bubble is --"
She was forced to pause, to think, however, before'
she could describe it.
"I believe it is air, blown into a round case, or
globe, of something. A soap-bubble is air in a round
case of soap and water. But, papa, I have often seen
bubbles on the top of water; they are only air and
water. But how can the case be made of water ? I
can conceive that a globe of soap and water might
stick together, because I know that soap is sticky; but
I wonder at water's sticking together, so as to make a
hollow globe."


When you look at water," said her father, or at
quicksilver, you perceive that they are very different,
not only in colour, but in their other properties."
"Properties, papa," said Lucy; "that is a word of
which you taught me the meaning. Properties are
what belong to things."
One of the properties of water isfluidity," said her
father. "Sand, on the contrary, is not fluid. Sand
may be poured out, like water or quicksilver; but the
grains, of which it is composed, are separate, and have
no visible attraction for each other. The parts of
water cohere, or stick together, but slightly; a small
force divides them, but still they have an obvious
S"Papa, what is obvious tenacity ? Tenacity, I
know, is stickiness; but what does obvious mean ?"
"Easily seen-plain-easy to be perceived. By
obvious tenacity I mean tenacity which you can easily
perceive; though nothing viscid or sticky is added to
the water, you see that water can be spread by air so
as to form the outer case of a bubble."
"But, when soap is added to water," said Lucy,
"larger bubbles can be made."
"Yes. Why ?"
"Because the soap makes the parts of the water
stick together more strongly; but, papa," continued
Lucy, "what is the reason that a bubble bursts ? for
if the outside case is strong enough to hold it at first,
why should not that hold it as well always? At last
it bursts; what is the reason of this ?"
Her father said, that he believed there were several
causes which might make a bubble burst; and that he


was not sure either that he knew all of them, or that
he could explain them all, so as to make Lucy under-
stand them. He mentioned some of the causes; for
instance, the wind blowing against the bubble might
break it; or the heat might expand the air inside it,
and burst it; or, at other times, some of the water, of
which the outer skin of the bubble is made, may run
down from the top to the bottom, till it makes the
bottom so heavy, and the top so thin, that it bursts.
Here Harry was heard to utter a deep sigh. His
father smiled, and said-
"Poor Harry thinks we shall never get to the
barometer; but have patience, my boy, we have not
gone so far out of the way as you think we have.
Now, Harry, run to my workshop, and bring me a
bladder, which you will find hanging up near the door.
And Lucy, run'for the little pair of bellows which is
in your mother's dressing room."
Harry brought the bladder, and Lucy brought the
bellows. They were curious to see what their father
was going to show them ; but, just then, the breakfast-
bell rang. Their father could not show or tell them
anything more that morning, for he was forced to
finish dressing himself as fast as he could, and the
children helped him eagerly. One reason why they
liked to come to their father every morning, and to
be taught by him was, that he never tired them by
forcing them to attend for a long time together.
Ten minutes at a time he thought quite sufficient
at their age; but then he required complete attention.
Whenever he found that they were not thinking of
what he was teaching them he would not say any


more to them, but send them away. For this they
were always sorry; and this punis rent, or rather
this privation, was sufficient to make them attend
better next day. It very seldom happened that they
were sent out of their father's room. Though he
never taught them in play, as it is called, yet he made
what they learned as interesting to them as he could ;
and he made work and play come one after the other,
so as to refresh them. He and their mother took care
that Harry and Lucy should neither be made to dislike
knowledge, by having tiresome, long tasks, nor ren-
dered idle, and unable to command their attention, by
having too much amusement. Spoiled children are
never happy. Between breakfast and dinner they ask
a hundred times, "What o'clock is it ?" and wish for
the time when dinner will be ready, or when pudding
or apple pie will come. And when dinner is over,
they long for tea-time, and so on; or they must have
somebody to amuse them, or some new toys. From
morning till night they never know what to do with
themselves; but the whole long day they are lounging
about, and troublesome to everybody, continually
wishing, or asking, or crying for something that they
have not. Poor, miserable creatures Children who,
are not spoiled will smile when they read this, and
will be glad that they are not like these, but that,
they are like Harry and Lucy. Harry and Lucy
loved pudding and apple pie as well as most people do,
but eating was not their only or their greatest plea-
sure. Having acquired a love for reading and for
knowledge of many sorts, they found continually a
number of employment, and of objects which enter-


trained and interested them; so that they were never
in want of new toys, or of somebody to amuse them.
If any extraordinary amusement was given to them-
such, for instance, as seeing an elephant-they enjoyed
it as much as possible; but, in general, Harry and
Lucy felt that they wanted nothing beyond their
common, every-day occupations. Beside their own
occupations and amusements, there was always some-
thing going on in the house which entertained them.
They were now able to understand their father and
mother's conversation: living constantly with them
(and not with servants), they sympathized, that is, felt
along with their parents, and made, to a certain
degree, a part of their society. Frequently their
mother read aloud in the evenings. On such occa-
sions Harry and Lucy were never desired to listen;
but sometimes they could understand what was read,
and sometimes they found it entertaining.
It happened, one winter evening, that their mother
began to read a French book, which they could not
understand, yet it seemed to amuse their father so
much, that they wished to know what it was about.
All that they heard their father and mother saying to
one another about it made them sure that it must be
entertaining; they left their map of Europe, which
they had been putting together, and Lucy went and
looked over her mother's shoulder at the book, and
Harry leant on his elbows opposite to his mother, lis-
tening eagerly, to try if he could make out any meaning;
but he could understand only a word, or a short sen-
tence, now and then.
Their mother observed their eagerness to know what


she was reading, and she was so good as to translate
for them, and to read to them, in English, the passages
which she thought most entertaining. She told them,
first, what it was about.
It was the account, given by a traveller, of a high
mountain in Switzerland, and of the manner of living
of the people by whom it is inhabited. Harry and
Lucy turned to the map of Europe, which they had
been putting together, and pointed to Switzerland, as
their mother spoke. The name of the mountain of
which she was reading an account, was Mount Pilate.
The name was taken, as their father told them, from
the Latin word Pileus, a hat, the top of this mountain
being almost always covered with what looks like a
hat, or cap of clouds. Different points, or heights, of
this mountain, are called by different names. The
most curious, difficult, and dangerous part of the ascent,
lies between the point called the Ass, and another point
called the Shaking Stone.
Oh, mother read about the shaking stone," cried
"No, Harry, lot mamma begin here, where there is
something about de tris belles fraises. I know the
English of that, veryfine strawberries."
Her mother began to read just where Lucy's finger
*'At the bottom of this road, up to the shaking
stone, is a bank, which is covered with very fine straw-
berries, from the middle of summer till the 21st of
December, if the snow does not cover them before that
time. And they may be found, even under the snow,
if people will take the trouble to look for them.


"' All the fir trees near this spot are called storm-
shelterers; because they seem to have been placed there
on purpose to shelter people from the storms. Some of
them afford a shelter of fifty feet in circumference.
The rain cannot penetrate through the thick branches'
of these trees. The cattle are often seen gathered to-
gether under them, even in the finest weather; but it
generally happens that a storm comes on within a
quarter of an hour after the cattle have taken shelter
in this manner.'"
"How do the cows or horses foresee the storm,,
mamma ." said Lucy.
"I do not know, my dear."
Let my mother go on reading, and ask all your
questions afterwards, Lucy," said Harry.
"If I can but remember them," said Lucy.
'From the foot of the mountain, to the point where
there is the village called Brundlen, the road is tole-
rably safe. The people can even drive their cows up
here, but with this precaution: two men gowith the cow,
one at the head, and the other at the tail, and they
hold in their hands a long pole, which they keep always
between the cow and the precipice, so as to make a sort
of banister, or rail, to prevent her from falling.
"' People are forced to walk very slowly on this road.
Half way up, you come to a curious fir tree. From
its trunk, which measures eight feet in circumference,
spread nine branches, each about three feet in circum-
ference, and six feet long. From the end of each of
these branches, which are about fifteen feet from the
ground, there rises, perpendicularly, a fir tree. This
tree looks, in shape, something like a great chandelier,


with all its candles *
* The village of Brundlen is the
highest and last village on the mountain. It stands
at the foot of a rock, from which enormous stones and
fragments of rock frequently roll down; but the houses
are so situated, under the projecting part of the rock, that
all which falls from it, bounds over without touching
them. The inhabitants of this village possess about
forty cows. The peasants mow only those parts of the
mountain where the cattle cannot venture to go to
feed. The mowers are let down, or drawn up, to these
places by ropes, from the top of the rock; they put the
grass, when they have mowed it, into nets, which are
drawn up or let down by the same ropes wherever it
is wanted. It is remarkable that the kinds of grass
and herbs which are found in these mountainous places
are quite different from those which grow in the low
countries.' "
My dear children, is it possible that you are inter-
ested about these grasses ?" said their mother.
"No, mamma," said Lucy, "not much about the
.grasses; but I like that part about the mowers let
down by ropes; and I like to hear it, just as.you read
it to papa."
"' Round some of the stones which have partly
fallen, or mouldered away, grows a flower, which is a
very dangerous poison. At four or five feet distance
from this plant the cattle perceive its smell, and they
leave the grass round it untouched. The flowers of
the different kinds of this plant are of a fine deep blue,
yellow, or white. The white are the most uncommon;
and the poison of these, it is said, is the most danger-


ous. Some years ago, a young man gathered some of
these flowers, and held them in his hand while he de-
scended the mountain, to go to a dance. When he was
near the place where the dancing was going on, he felt
thathis handwas numbed, and he threwaway the flowers.
He danced, afterwards, for an hour or two, with a
young woman, holding her hand all the time; he grew
warm; and it is supposed that the poison from the
poisonous flowers was communicated from his hand to
hers; for they both died that night.' "
Harry and Lucy were shocked at this story.
"But, mother," said Harry, "do you think it is
true ?"
"That was the very thing I was considering," said
his mother.
Then his father and mother began to talk about the
probability of its being true or false.
They looked back for the description of the flower,
and for the Latin name, which their mother, knowing
that the children would not understand, had passed
over. By comparing the name and description of this
flower with those in botanical books, where the de-
scription and accounts of the properties of plants are
given, they found that the plant of which they had
been reading, was a species of aconite, called in England,
wolfs-bane, or monk's-lwod; and, as several instances
were mentioned of its poisonous and fatal effects, they
were inclined to believe that the story of the young
man and woman's death might be true.
Lucy, seeing in some of the botanical books in which
her mother had been looking, pretty coloured draw-
ings, or prints of flowers, asked whether she might


look at them. Her mother said that she might, at
some other time, but not this evening; because Lucy
could not attend both to looking at these prints and
to what she heard read aloud. So Licy shut the
books, and she and Harry put them into their places
again, in the book-case, resolving that they would look
at them together the next day.
"Now, mamma," said Harry, as they drew their
seats close to her, and settled themselves again to
listen-" now for the shaking stone, mamma."
The kind mother began immediately, and read on,
as follows:-

"This stone is at the summit of the mountain
called the Ober Alp; it overhangs the rock a little,
and appears as if it would fall; but this is really im-
possible, unless it were thrown down by a violent
earthquake. The stone is as large as a moderate-
sized house. When any one has the boldness to get
upon it, to lie down, and let their head overhang the
stone, they will feel the stone shake, so that it seems
as if it were going to fall that moment. In 1744, the
stote ceased to shake. About six years afterwards,
someubody discovered that this arose from a little
pebble, which had fallen through a crack, and re-
mained under the stone. A man fastened a great
hammer to a pole, and after frequently striking the
pebble with the hammer, he succeeded in dislodging it.
Immediately the stone began to shake again, and has
continued ever since to vibrate."
"How glad the man who struck the pebble from
under the stone must have been, when he saw it begin


to shake again !" said Harry. "I should like to have
been that man."
"Now I," said Lucy, could not have managed the
great pole and hammer, and I would rather have been
the person who first discovered that the pebble had
got under the stone, and that it was the cause which
prevented the stone from shaking."
"Oh, but anybody who had eyes could have seen
that," said Harry.
And yet all those people who lived in that country
had eyes, I suppose," said Lucy; "but they were six
years before they saw it."
"They had eyes and no eyes," said her mother,
"That is true; I understand what you mean,
mamma," said Lucy. "I have read 'Eyes and no
Eyes,' in Evenings at Home, and I like it very much.
But will you go on, mamma, if there is anything more
that is entertaining ?"
"There is something more that, perhaps, w>!lId
entertain you," said her mother; "but I will not re.I
any more to you to-night, because it is time for y.:u to
go to bed."
"To-morrow night, mamma, will you. read some
more to us "
"I will not promise, my dear. Perhaps I may
have something else to do; or, perhaps, you may not
deserve it so well to-morrow. When to-morrow night
comes, it will be time enough to give you an answer."

The next morning, when Harry and Lucy went


into their father's room, they took care to have the
bladder and the bellows ready by the time that he
was up, as he had promised to show them some experi-
"Now," said he, "we will fill this bladder with air,
by blowing air into it with the bellows."
He put the end of the bellows into the neck of the
bladder, and bade Harry hold the bladder, and Lucy
blow the bellows.
"It is now quite full, papa," said Lucy: "I will tie
the air in, with a waxed string round the neck of the
bladder; I know how to do that. Look, how full, and
round, and tight it is."
So it is," said her father; "but now I want to let
out some of the air that is in this bladder, without
letting all of it out-how shall I do that ?"
"I do not know," said Lucy; "for if I untie this
string, I am afraid all the air that is in the bladder
now would come out."
3' That it certainly would," said her father.
' How shall we manage it repeated Harry and
'Eucy. After considering for some time, Harry ob-
served, that beyond the place where the bladder was
tied, there was enough of the neck of the bladder left
to admit the nose of the bellows: he proposed, that
they should put in the end of the bellows, and tie the
bladder round it, and then untie that string with which
they had at first tied the neck of the bladder. His
father said that this would do, but that he could show
him what would do better. He gave him a little pipe
of wood, about two inches long, that had a wooden
stopF~r at one end, that could be easily put into the


pipe, and easily taken out. He told Harry that this
kind of pipe and stopper are called a spigot and faucet.
He fastened the faucet into the neck of the bladder, so
that he could stop the air from coming out of the
bladder when it was full, and he could at any time let
out the air by taking away the peg, or spigot. Then
he let out a great part of the air that was in the
bladder, till it was nearly empty, stopped the faucet
again with the spigot, and then carried the bladder to
the fire.
"Now you will see," said their father, "that the
heat of the fire will swell the small quantity of air
remaining in the bladder, till it will fill as great a
space as that which was filled by all the air which we
forced into it at first with the bellows. Here, Harry,
take this to the fire while I shave myself."
The children held the bladder near the fire, but it
did not swell out immediately; and, after they had
held it a few minutes, they began to think that it
would never do, as Harry said. His father told him
that he must not be so impatient if he intended to try
If you are tired of holding the bladder," said he,
"put it down on the hearth. Leave it there, and go
and do, or think of something else; and in about a
quarter of an hour, perhaps, it will begin to swell
A quarter of an hour! that is a great while,
indeed !" said Harry.
However, the quarter of an hour passed while the
children were putting some little drawers of their
father's in order. When they returned to look at the


bladder, they saw that it was beginning to swell, and
they watched it while it gradually swelled. First one
fold of the bag opened, then another; till, at last, it
had again expanded into the shape of a globe.
"-This is very extraordinary !" said Lucy, that the
little-the very little air which papa left in the
bladder should have swelled out to this size, without
anything being added to it."
"Without anything being added to it ?" repeated
her father: "think again, my dear."
"I have thought again, papa; but, I assure you,
nothing was added to the air; for we never opened
the bladder after you put in the-what do you call it,
which fastens it l"
"The spigot," said Harry.
"The spigot," said Lucy. "Well, papa, I say nothing
was added to the air."
I say, daughter, you are mistaken."
Why, papa, we did nothing in the world but hold
the bladder to the fire, and leave it before the fire,
atl nobody touched it, or put anything to it, or
near it !"
Still her father said, "Think again, Lucy."
She recollected herself, and exclaimed, "I know
what you mean, now, papa-heat. Heat was added
to it."
Yes," said her father, "heat mixed with the air in
the bladder; and, by separating the parts of the air
from each other, caused them to take up more room.
Now take the bladder into a cold place; hang it up
here, near the window, and let us see what will

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