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LESSON CI.

Importance of Science to a Practical Mechanic.---
G. B. EMERSON.

LET us imagine for a moment the condition of an individual, who has not advanced beyond the merest elements of knowledge, who understands nothing of the principles even of his own art, and inquire what change will be wrought in his feelings, his hopes, and happiness, in all that makes up the character, by the gradual inpouring of knowledge.

He has now the capacity of thought, but it is a barren faculty, never nourished by the food of the mind, and never rising above the poor objects of sense. Labour and rest, the hope of mere animal enjoyment, or the fear of want, the care of providing covering and food, make up the whole sum of his existence. Such a man may be industrious, but he cannot love labour, for it is not relieved by the excitement of improving or changing the processes of his art, nor cheered by the hope of a better condition.

When released from labour he does not rejoice; for mere idleness is not enjoyment, and he has no book, no lesson of science, no play of the mind, no interesting pursuit, to give a zest to the hour of leisure. Home has few charms for him; he has little taste for the quiet, the social converse, and exchange of feeling and thought, the innocent enjoyments, that ought to dwell there. Society has little to interest him; for he has no sympathy for the pleasures or pursuits, the cares or troubles of others, to whom he cannot feel nor perceive his bonds of relationship.

All of life is but a poor boon for such a man; and happy for himself and for mankind, if the few ties that hold him to this negative existence be not broken. Happy for him if that best and surest friend of man, that messenger of good news from heaven to the poorest wretch on earth, Religion, bringing the fear of God, appear to save him. Without her to support, should temptation assail him, what an easy victim would he fall to vice or crime! How little would be necessary to overturn his ill-balanced principles, and leave him. grovelling in intemperance, or send him abroad on the ocean or the highway, an enemy to himself and his kind!

But, let the light of science fall upon that man; open to

him the fountain of knowledge. A few principles of philosophy enter his mind, and awaken the dormant power of thought. He begins to look upon his art with an altered eye. It ceases to be a dark mechanical process, which he cannot understand; he regards it as an object of inquiry, and begins to penetrate the reasons, and acquire a new mastery over his own instruments.

He finds other and better modes of doing what he had done before, blindly and without interest, a thousand times. He learns to profit by the experience of others, and ventures upon untried paths. Difficulties, which before would have stopped him at the outset, receive a ready solution from some luminous principle of science.

He gains new knowledge and new skill, and can improve the quality of his manufacture, while he shortens the process and diminishes his own labour. Then labour becomes sweet to him; it is accompanied by the consciousness of increasing power; it is leading him forward to a higher place among his fellow men. Relaxation, too, is sweet to him, as it enables him to add to his intellectual stores, and to mature, by undisturbed meditation, the plans and conceptions of the hour of labour.

His home has acquired a new charm; for he is become a man of thought, and feels and enjoys the peace and seclusion of that sacred retreat; and he carries thither the honest complacency, which is the companion of well-earned success. There, too, bright visions of the future sphere open upon him, and excite a kindly feeling towards those who are to share in his prosperity.

Thus his mind and heart expand together. He has become an intelligent being, and, while he has learned to esteem himself, he has also learned to live no longer for himself alone. Society opens like a new world to him; he looks upon his fellow creatures with interest and sympathy, and feels that he has a place in their affections and respect. Temptations assail him in vain. He is armed by high and pure thoughts. He takes a wider view of his relations with the beings about and above him. He welcomes every generous virtue that adorns and dignifies the human character. He delights in the exercise of reason. He glories in the consciousness and the hope of immortality.

serts.

LESSON CII.

Story of Rabbi Ak'iba.-HURWITZ'S HEBREW TALES.

COMPELLED, by violent persecution, to quit his native land, Rabbi Akiba wandered over barren wastes and dreary deHis whole equipage consisted of a lamp, which he used to light at night, in order to study the law; a cock, which served him instead of a watch, to announce to him the rising dawn; and an ass, on which he rode.

The sun was gradually sinking behind the horizon, night was fast approaching, and the poor wanderer knew not where to shelter his head, or where to rest his weary limbs. Fatigued, and almost exhausted, he came at last near a village. He was glad to find it inhabited, thinking, where human beings dwelt, there dwelt, also, humanity and compassion.

But he was mistaken. He asked for a night's lodging. It was refused. Not one of the inhospitable inhabitants would accommodate him. He was, therefore, obliged to seek shelter in a neighbouring wood. "It is hard, very hard," said he, "not to find a hospitable roof to protect me against the inclemency of the weather; but God is just, and whatever he does is for the best."

He seated himself beneath a tree, lighted his lamp, and began to read the law. He had scarcely read a chapter, when a violent storm extinguished the light. "What!" ex

claimed he, "must I not be permitted even to pursue my favorite study! But God is just, and whatever he does is for the best."

He stretched himself on the earth, willing, if possible, to have a few hours' sleep. He had hardly closed his eyes, when a fierce wolf came and killed the cock.

"What new

misfortune is this!" ejaculated the astonished Akiba. "My vigilant companion is gone! Who, then, will henceforth awaken me to the study of the law? But God is just; he knows what is good for us poor mortals."

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Scarcely had he finished the sentence, when a terrible lion came and devoured the ass. What is to be done now?" exclaimed the lonely wanderer. "My lamp and my cock are gone-my poor ass, too, is gone-all is gone! But, praised be the Lord, whatever he does is for the best." He passed a sleepless night, and, early in the morning, went

to the village to see whether he could procure a horse, or any other beast of burden, to enable him to pursue his jour ney. But what was his surprise, not to find a single individual alive!

It appears, that a band of robbers had entered the village during the night, killed its inhabitants, and plundered their houses. As soon as Akiba had sufficiently recovered from the amazement, into which this wonderful occurrence had thrown him, he lifted up his voice, and exclaimed, "Thou great God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, now I know, by experience, that poor mortal men are short-sighted and blind; often considering as evils, what was intended for their preservation! But thou, alone, art just, and kind, and merciful.

"Had not the hard-hearted people driven me, by their inhospitality, from the village, I should assuredly have shared their fate. Had not the wind extinguished my lamp, the robbers would have been drawn to the spot, and have murdered me. I perceive, also, that it was thy mercy which deprived me of my companions, that they might not, by their noise, give notice to the banditti where I was. Praised, then, be thy name for ever and ever!"

LESSON CIII.

Alice Fell.-WORDSWORTH.

THE post-boy drove with fierce career,—
For threatening clouds the moon had drowned,—
When suddenly I seemed to hear

A moan, a lamentable sound.

As if the wind blew many ways

I heard the sound, and more and more:

It seemed to follow with the chaise,
And still I heard it, as before.

At length, I to the boy called out:
He stopped his horses at the word;
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor ought else like it, could be heard

The boy then smacked his whip, and fast
The horses scampered through the rain;
And soon I heard, upon the blast,

The voice, and bade* him halt again.

Said I, alighting on the ground,

"What can it be, this piteous moan?” And there a little girl I found, Sitting behind the chaise alone.

"My cloak!" the word was last and first, And loud and bitterly she wept,

As if her very heart would burst;

And down from off the chaise she leapt.

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"What ails you, child?" She sobbed, "Look here!"

I saw it in the wheel entangled,—

A weather-beaten rag as e'er

From any garden scare-crow dangled.

'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke: Her help she lent, and, with good heed, Together we released the cloak,

A wretched, wretched rag, indeed!

"And whither are you going, child,

To-night, along these lonesome ways?" "To Durham," answered she, half wild:"Then come with me into the chaise."

She sat like one past all relief;
Sob after sob she forth did send
In wretchedness, as if her grief
Could never, never, have an end.

'My child, in Durham do you dwell ?”
She checked herself in her distress,
And said, "My name is Alice Fell:
I'm fatherless and motherless.

"And I to Durham, sir, belong."

And then, as if the thought would choke
Her very heart, her grief grew strong;
And all was for her tattered cloak.

* Pron. bad.

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