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WAYNESTATtUNIVERSnYLlBRARy



WNESMBUNIVERSITYUBRflRY
THtElOISDRAMSEYCOLLECTION




EVENTH'G'S &T HOME;
O E,
THE JUVENILE BUDGET
OPE N' E Di
CONSISTING OF
A' VARIETY OF MISCELLANEOUS PIECE S }
FOR '
THE INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT OF
YOUNG PERSONS# —
VOL. IV.
''tRlRD EDITION-.
L O N D O N: '
.PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, NO. /] ST. FAVt’s
• CHURCH-YARD, “
By T. Benjley , BohrCotirt, Fleei-Jlred.
I800.
[Price One Shilling. and Sixpence.]


iv
CONTENTS.
- • p agei-
Earth and Sun - - - no
Sunday Morning . - ' - \ i ^
Metals. Tart IL - 124..
What animals are'made, for - - 147
Lately 'PubliJBed,
By Mrs. BARB A UL D, \ .
1. LESSONS for GHILDREN, from two ta
four years of age; four parts, price 6d, each,-
2. HYMNS in Profe for Children, is.
• By Dr. A I K I N,
1, The CALENDAR of NATURE, is. .
2. ENGLAND DELINEATED ; or,' a Geo-
s graphical Defcription of England and Wales,-
with Maps of all the Counties ; 7s. bound.
EVENINGS at HOME; or, the . Juvenile ,
Budget opened. Confining of a variety of
Mifcellaneous Pieces, for the inftru&ion and
amuferaent of young Perfons. In fix Volumes^
Price gs. or xs. 6d. feach.


S J-X T E E NT/H .EVEN ING.
PERSEVERANCE, AGAINST FORTUNE.
' ■ A STORY. ;
Theodore was a boy of lively parts
and engaging manners; but he had the
failing of being extremely impatient in
his temper, and inclined to extremes . 1
He was ardent' in 1 all his purfuits, but
could bear no difeppointnient ; and if
the leaft thing went wrong, he threw up
what-he was about in a'pet, and could
not be prevailed upon to refume it. Elis
father (Mr. Cartel on) had given him a
bed in the garden, which he /had-culti
vated with great delight. ■ The borders
were fet with double daifies’of different
colours, next-to which was a row of
auriculas v and polyanthufesi Beyond
Vol. IV. B were


2- SIXTEENTH EVENING.
were (locks and.other taller flowers and.
ihrubs and a beautiful damafk rofe
graced the centre. 1 This rofe was juft
budding, and Theodore watched its daily
progrels with great intereft. One un
fortunate day, the door of the garden
being left open, a drove of pigs entered,
and began to , r-ipt- on, the herbs and
flowers. An alarm being founded,
TheodGf.e . and the . fervant boy rujhed
.upon them, jmacking their •whips*
The whole herd in affright, took their,
courfe- acrofs, Theodore's • flo wer- bed, on
which fome of-them, had before- been
grazing.. Stocks, daifies,, and auriculas,-
wepe all trampled down or torn up;
' and what was worft of all, a large
•• ' ■' • • ' ' * •• V •• -• -y .
old fow ran diredtly over the beautiful
l-ofe tree,- and broke off its Item-level
with the:ground. When ^Theodore catee
up, and behdd. all the - mifchief,; and.efr
pecially his/avourite rofe ftrew.ed on the
foil, rage, and grief chcaked hi utter,^
anc_e.; . After: .ftandingea while., the pic
./ ■ . €" ■ , . ture


PERSEVERANCE, &C. " 3
ture' of defpair, he fnatched-up a fpade
. .that flood near, 'and with furious hafce ■
dug over the-whole»bed, and whelmed
all: the relics of his flowers deep under
the foil. This exertion being ended,
he burft into tears, and filently left the
garden.
, His father, who had beheld the fcene
■ at a diftance,, though fomewhat diverted ■
,at-the-boy’s childilh violence, yet began
ferioufly to refled on the future c.onfe-
quenees of fuch a temper, if fu fie red to
giow up without reftrairit,. He faid
nothing to him at the time, -but in
the afternoon .he, took him a walk into
- a ; neighbouring parifh. There was a
large wild common, and at the lkirts.of
_ it, a. neat farm-houfe, with .fields ly
ing round it, all- well fenced, and cul
tivated in the/beft manner. The air-
>vas fweetened with the bean-flower and
clover. , r An orchard of fine young fruit
trees / lay behind the houfe ■, and .before
it,, a little ; garden, gay. with all the flowers
V; ■ ' $ 2. "* of


4 â–  SIXTEENTH EVENING.
of the feafon. A ftand of bee~hives was
on thefouthern fide, fheltered by a thick
hedge of honeyfuckle and fweet-briar.
The farm-yard was (locked with pigs
and poultry. A herd of cows with full'
udders, was juft coming home - to be
rnilked.' Every thing wore the afpeft
of plenty and good management. The
charms of the fcene ft ruck Theodore very
forcibly, and he exprefl^d his pleafure in
the warmeft terms- This place, faid
his father,' belongs to a man who is the
greateft example I know of patient for
titude bearing up againft misfortune ;
and all that you fee' is the reward of his
own perfeverance. I am a little ac
quainted with him; and we will go in
and beg a draught of milk, and try if
we can prevail upon him to tell us his
ftory. Theodore willingly accompanied
his father. - They were received by .the
farmer with cordial franknefs. After
they were feated, Mr. Hardman, (fays
Mr. Carletori) I have often heard of part
- of


PERSEVERANCE, &C. .-'"S'
of your adventures,.'but' ;never had/ a
regular account of the whole. If. you
will favour me and my little boy with
the ftory of them, we {hall think our-
fdves much obliged to you. Lack-, a
: day ■!' fir, (Taid he) there’s little in. them■
worth telling of, as far as I know. ‘ I
have had my ups and downs in’the world,
to.be fure, but fo have many men befide.
However, if you wifh to hear about
them, they are at your fervice and I
can’t fay; but it gives me pleafure.fome •
times to talk over, old matters, and think
how much-better things have turned out
than might have been expected., Now
I am of opinion (faid Mr.-C.) that from
yourfpirit and perfeverance a good con-'
clufion. might always have been ex
pected. You are pleafed to compli
ment,- fir, (replied the farmer) ; but I
will, begin without more words. .
. You may, perhaps have heard that
^ my father was a man of good eftate.
He thought of nothing, poor man ! but
B 3 how


6 -^SIXTEENTH EVENING.
how to fpend it; and he had the uit-
common luck to fpend it twice., over,
For when he was obliged to fell it the
lirfi: time, it>vas bought in by a relation,
who left it him again by his will. But
my poor father was not a man to take
warning. He fell to living as he had
done before, and jufc made his etrate
and his lifehold out together. He died
at the age of five and forty, and left his
. family beggars.. 'I believe he would
not have taken to drinking as he did,
had it not been for his impatient temper,
which made him fret and vex himfelf for
every trifle, and then he had nothing for
it but to drown his care in liquor. '
It was my lot to be taken by rny mo
ther’s brother, -who was mafter of a mer
chant [hip. 1 1 ferved him as an apprentice
feveral. years, and underwent a good deal
of the ufual hardfhip of a failor’s life.
He had juft made me his mate in a
voyage up the Mediterranean, when we
had the misfortune to be wrecked on
; " the


PERSEVERANCE, &cl 7
the coaft of Morocco. The fliip ftruck
at fome diftance from fliore, and we
•lay a long ftorrny night with the waves .
dafhing over us, expefting every mo-
tnent to perifh. My uncle and feveral
of the crew died of fatigue and want*
and -by morning but four of us were left
-alive. ' My companions were fo-dif*--
heartened, that they thought of no-
tiling but fubmitting to their fate. £br
;m : y part, I thought life ftill worth ft rug-
gling for; and the weather having be-
. come calmer, I perfuaded them to join
me in making a kind of raft, by the '
help of which, with much toil and dan
ger, we' Reached the land. Here we
were feized by the barbarous inhabitants,
and carried up. the country for flaves-
to the emperor. We were employed
about fome public buildings, made to
work very hard, with the whip at our
backs, and allowed nothing but water
and a kind of pulfe. I have heard
perfons talk as if there was little in be-
B 4 . , ing


8 ' SIXTEENTH ^EVENING.
ing a Have, but-the, nam.e but they who
' have been flaves themfelves, .1 .,am fure
will never make light of flayery in others,
A ranfom was fet on our heads,, but fo
high, that it feemed impoffible for poor
friendlefs. creatures like- us,ever to pay
it. . The thought of perpetual, femtude,
together with the hard treatment we rrfet.
with, quite overcame mypoor, .com
panions. They drooped and, died one
after another* I ftill thought it not
impoffible to mend my .condition., and
perhaps to .recover my freedom. “ We
worked about twelve hours in the day,,
, and had one holiday in the week. I'
employed my leifure time in learning
to make mats and flag bafkets, in which
I foon became fo expert 3 as to have , a
good many for fale,. and thereby got a
little money to purchafe better food, and
. feveral fmall conveniencies. We.were
afterwards fet to work in the’emperor’s
gardens; and here I Ihewed /fo much
good will and'attention^ that I got into
favour


PERSEVERANCE, &C. . _ 9
favour with, the overfeer. He Had a
large garden of his own; and., he made
intereft for me to be fuffered to work
for him alone bn the condition .of
paying a man . to do my. duty. I
foon -became fo^ ufefiil to him, that
he treated md more like a hired fer-
vant than a flave, and gave, me regu
lar wages. I learned the language of
the country,' and might have pafled ’
my time comfortably enough, could I
have accommodated rhyfelf to their
manners and religion, and forgot my
native land. 1 I faved all I could,' in
order to purchafe my freedom; but
the ranfom was fo high, that I had
little profpedt of being able to do it
for forne years to come. A cir-
cumftance, ■ however, happened which
brought it about at once. Some vil
lains one night laid a plot to murder
my matter and plunder his houfe. X
flept in a little 'ihed in the garden
where the tools lay j and being aw.ak-
B 5 . i encd


10 SIXTEENTH EVENING.
fined by a noife, I faw four men break
through the fence, and. walk up an
-alley towards the houfe. I crept out
with a fpade in my hand, and filently
followed them. .They made a hole
with inftruments in the houfe-wall big
enough for a man to enter, at. Two of
them had got in, and the third was be
ginning to enter, when I -rufhed for
ward., and with the blow of my fpade
clove the fkull of one of the robbers,-
and gave the other fuch a ftroke on
the fhoulder. as difabled him. I then
made a loud outcry to alarm the fa
mily. My mafter and his fon, who
lay in the houfe, got up, and having let
•me .in, we fecured the two others, after,
a fliarp conflict, in which I received a
fevere wound'with a dagger. My mas
ter, who looked upon me as his pre-
ferver, had all poffible care taken of me ;
and as foon as I was cured, made me
a.prefent of my liberty. He would
fain have kept me with him,, but my
4 .v mind


PERSEVERANCE, &C. II
m nd was fo much bent on returning
to rny native country, that I imme-
. diately fet out to the neared feaport,
"and. took my paflage in a veffel going
to Gibraltar. .
From this place I returned in the
Ibip for' England. As foon as we
'arrived ih the Downs, and I \vas rejoic
ing at- the-fight of the white cliffs, a
~man, of war’s boat- came on board, and
■preffed into the King’s ferviee all of us
-who ' were feamen. I -could not but,
think - it hard that this Ibould be my
welcome at: home after a long flavery y
' but there was no remedy. I refolved
to do my duty in my ftation, and leave
the reft to Providence. ' I was abroad
during the remainder of the war, and
Taw many a flout fellow fink under dif-
eafe and defpondence. My knowledge
of feamanfhip got me promoted to
the poft of ‘a petty officer, and at
the peace I was paid off, and received
a jprettiy fum for wages and prize-
B 6 , money.


12 V SIXTEENTH EVENING^
money. With this'X fet off-for Lon
don. .1 had experienced too much
diftrefs from .want, to be inclined to
Squander away my money,, fo I- put it
into a banker’s hands, and began to
look out for fome new way of .life.
Unfortunately,, there were fome
things of which I had no more expe-
; rjehce than a' child, and the - tricks, of
London were among thefe* An ad-
vertifement offering extraordinary ad
vantages to a partner in a commercial
concern, who could bring afmall ca
pital, tempted me to make inquiry
about, the matter; and 1 was foon ca
joled by a plaufible artful fellow to ven
ture my whole ftock in it. The bufi-
nefs was a manufafture, about which' I
knew nothing at all; but as I was not
afraid of my labour, I;.fet about work
ing as they directed me, with great di
ligence, and thought all was going,on.
profpejoufly. - One morning, on com
ing to the office, I found my partners
- ^ decamped ,


' ' PERSEVERANCE, &C. ' .13
decamped;-: and the fame day I was
arrefted for a confiderable fum.due by
the partnerfhip.. It was in vain for me
to think of getting bail, fo I was obliged
to go to'prifon. Here ; I fhpuld. have
been halffcarved, but'for my Moorifli
,trade of mat-making, ■ by the. help of
which I bettered my condition for fome
months; ■ when the creditors, finding
that nothing could be got; out of me,
fuflfered me to be fet at liberty.
I was now in the wide world withr
out a farthing or a friend, but I thanked
God that I had health and -limbs left.
I did not. .choole to truft the fea again,
but- preferred my other new trade of
gardening; fo I applied to a nurfery-
man near town, and was received as
a day-labourer. ' I fet myfelf cheerfully
to work, taking care to be in the
grounds the firft man in the morning
and the laft at night. I acquainted
my employer with all the practices I
had obferved- in Morocco, and got
him,


! 4 SIXTEENTH EVENIN6.
■him, in' return, to : inftru'dt mei in his
..own.’ In time, I y eame to be confi-
dered as a fkilful workman, and was
advanced- to higher ‘wages. My affairs
wej-e ill a flourifhing ftate. ;I was well •
fed and 'comfortably lodged, ; and fayed
money-into the bargain. 1 About this
time I fell in company with a young
woman at fervice, very notable and
well behaved, who feemed well qua
lified for a wife to a working mani
I ’ ventured to' make an offer to her,
which ’ proved ' not difagreeable j and
after we had calculated a little how
we were to live, we married. 'I took
a cottage with an acre or two of land
to : it,: and my wife’s favings furnifh-
ed our houfe and bought a cow. All
my Ieifure time I fpent upon my
pitce of ground, which I made very
produflive, and the profits of my cow,
with; my -; wages, fupported us very
well. No mortal, I think, could be
happier than I was after a - hard day's
.. - \ " work^


. ’ PERSEVERANCE, &C. ■
work, by'rriy own fire fide,'with my wife
befidc me, and our little infant on
knee. . ■ • ■
After this way, of life had lafted
two' or three years, a gentleman who
had dealt largely-with my mailer for
yoying plants, afked hirn if he could re
commend an honeft induftrious maft
for a tenant, upon fome land that
he had' lately .taken in from the fea.
My, matter, willing to do me a kind
ness, mentioned me. I was tempted
by the propofal, and going down to>
view the premifes,-, I took a farm
upon a leafe at a low rent, and re
moved my -family and goods to it,
one huhdred-and fifty miles from Lon
don. There was ground enough for
money, but much was left to be done
for it in draining, • manuring, and fenc
ing. Then it required ‘ more flock
than I was able to furniilij fo*
though-unwilling, I was obliged to bor
row fom'e money of niy landlord, who
Jet


l6. SIXTEENTH EVENING. y ..
let me have it at moderate intereft..
I began ; with a;good heartland, worked
]ate and early to put things in the. be ft
condition. My firft misfortune was
that the place proved unhealthy to us.
1 fell-into.a lingering ague, which pulled
me d&wn much, and hindered my
bufinefs. My wife got a flow' fever,
and fo did our eldeft child (we "had
now ,two,,, and another coming). The
poor child diedj and what with grief
and illnefs, my wife had much ado to
recover. Then the rot got among my
flieep, and carried off the beft.part of
my flock. I bore up againft diftrefs
as well as I could ,• and by the kindnefs
of my -landlord was enabled to bring
things tolerably about again. We re
gained our health, and began to ;be fea-
foned to the climate., As we were
cheering ourfelves with the profpeft. of
better times, a dreadful ftorm 'arofe—it
was one night in February—-I fhallnever
forget it—and drove, the Ipring tide


? ' PERS.EVERAN.CEj &C.: I7.
with fuch fury againft our fea-banks,
.that.they gave way.- The water rulhed
in .with; fuch force, that all was pre-
fejitly a fea. Two hours before day
light, I was awaked by the noife of the
;waves dafhing againft our houfe, ; and
biirfting in at s the door. My wife
had lain, in about a month, and JQie and
I,. rand the two children, flept on a
-ground; floor.. >; We had. juft time to
carry/the' children up ' flairs, before - all
,was : afloat- in -the. room. When day
appeared* t 'we; coulC ; fee ' nothing from
the windows'but; water. All the; out-
houfes, ricks, and utenfils, were fwept
away,' and, all the: cattle and fheep
drowned. ,;,The fea.kepi;-rifing, and;the
force: of the- current bore fo hard
agaipft-' our houfe, : that we thought
every, moment., it muft fall. ; We
clafped our babies to 6ur breads,
and: 1 expe6led nothing but prefent
death. - At : length we . fpied a boat
coming-to ,us. With a good deal
V 1 ' of .


T§ SIXTEENTH -.'EVENING. ' -
df difficulty it got Tinder our' window,
and rook us’ in with a fervant maid and
' -boy. A few clothes was all the pro
perty we faved i and we had not left
•the houfe half an hour, before it fell,
and in a minute nothing was to be feen
! of it. JlSTot only the farm-houfe, but
the farm itfelf -was gone. ■ * .
I was now again a ruined man, and
"what Was wdrft, I had three partners in
^ fily ruin.- f My wife [arid ; I loolced at
'one another, and then at our little ones,
and w-ept. ; Neithelr^of ; iJs had a word ,
■of comfort to fay. A.t laft, thought ly
-this country is not Morocco, however
'■Here are good fouls that will : pity our
'cafe, and perhaps relieve us; • Then -I
ftiave a' chatra&er, and a pair of- hands.
Things are bad, but thfey Tftfigtit have
been worfe. I took my 'wife- by the
(hand and knelt down. She did, the
•fame; I thanked God for his mercy
in laving our lives,, arid - prayed that
he would continue to.prbted us, We
rofe ‘


' perseverance , & c . ' ig
rofe up with lightened hearts, and were
iible to talk calmly about our condition.
It was my defire to return to my former
fnafter, the nurfery-mahj but how to
convey my family fo* far without money ‘
was the difficulty. Indeed I/was much
Worfe than nothing, for I owed a good
deal to ‘my landlord. He came down
upon the news of the misfortune, and
though his own lofTes were heavy, he
not only forgave my debt and releafed
ime from all obligations, but made me
a fmall prefent. Some charitable neigh
bours did the like;. but I was moft of
all affe&ed by the kindnefs of our late
maid-fervant, who infilled upon Our
accepting of a crown which (he had
faved out of her wages. Poor foul!
we had always treated her like one
of ourfelves, and fhe felt for us like
one. ' “
As foon as we had got fome ne-
ceiTaries,y and the weather Was toler
able, we fet out on our long 'march.
My


20 SIXTEENTH EVENING.’
My wife carried her infant in, her arms;
.1 took the bigger child upon my back,
and a bundle of clothes in, my hand.
We could walk but a few miles a day,
but we now. and then got a lift in an
empty waggon or cart, which was a
great help . to. us, One day we met
with a farmer returning with his team -
. from market, who let urride, and en
tered into converfation with me, I
told him of my adventures, by which,
he Teemed .much interefted j and learn
ing that I was (killed in managing trees,
he acquainted, me that a nobleman in
his neighbourhood was making. great
plantations, r and would very likely be
glad to engage me; and he offered to
carry us to the'place. As all I was
jfeeking ,-was -a living by my labour, I
thought the Tooner I got it, the better j N
fo I thankfully accepted his offer.' He 1
took us to the nobleman’s fteward,'and
made known our cafe. The fteward
'■wrote to my old mafter for a character;
: . , : ... and


PERSEVERANCE,'&C. 21"
and receiving a favourable one, he
hired me as a principal, manager of a
new pknt'ationy and fettled me and' my
family in a fnug cottage near 1 it. He
advanced us fomewhat for a little furni
ture and prefent fubfiftence; and we
had once more a home. , O Sir! how
many Bleflings are contained in that
word to ’ thofe who have known the '
want of it I ■ : - ;r •
I entered upon my .new employment .
' with as much fatisfa&ion, as if I was
taking poffeffion of an eftate. My
wife had enough to do in taking care
of the houfd and : children; fo it lay
with me to provide for all, and I may
fay that I was not idle. Belides my
weekly pay from the -fteward, I con
trived to make a little -money at leifure
times by pruning and dreffing gentle^
men’s fruit trees. - I was allowed a
piece of wafte ground behind the
/houfe for a garden, and I fpent a
good deal of labour in bringing it
into


22 SIXTEENTH EVENING.
into order. My old mafter Tent me
down for a prefent fome choice young
trees' and ; flower roots, which I
planted; and they throve wonder
fully;, Things went on almoft as
w.ell as. I could defire. . The fitua-
tion being dry and-healthy, my wife
recovered her loft bloom, . and die
children fprung ; up. like my plants.
I began to hope that I was- ainioft
out' of' the., reach, of further misfor
tune; but it was not fo ordered.
I had been three years in this fitu-
ation, and finpreafed my family wit-Ii •
another ;child, whenv my,; Lord died.
He was fucceeded by a very , 'diffi-
pated young man, deep in. debt, who
prefently put a (lop to the planting
and improving of the eftate, and fent
orders to turn off- all the workmen..
•This- was a. great blow to me ; how-'
ever, I ftill .hoped to be allowed to
keep my little, hqufe and garden, and ,
I thought I 'could.-then- maintain; rrty-
; V ’ - felf


PERSEVERANCE, &C. 23
fdf as a n'u'rfery-man. and gardener.
Biut- a.-new fteward , was fenc down,
with - cjire&ions to rack the tenants
to the utmoft. : He afked me as much
rent ;for: the place, as if I. had found
the garden ready made to my hands;
and when I told him it was impoffible
for.me to payit, he gave me notice to
quit immediately. He would, neither
fuller me to take away my trees and
plants, nor allow me any thing for
them. His view, I found, was to put
in a favourite of his own, and fet him
up at my expence. I remonftrated
againft this cruel injuftice, but could
obtain nothing but hard words. As
I fa\v it'would be the ruin of me
to be turned out in that manner, I
determined, rather, haftily, to go up
to London and. plead, my caufe with
my new Lord. I. took a forrowful
leave of my .family, and walking to
the. next market’town, I got a place
on the : outfide of the ftage coach.
" When


24 SIXTEENTH EVENING.
When we were within thirty or. forty
miles of London, the coachman over
turned the carriage, and I pitched
dire6tly on. my head, and was taken
up fenfelefs. Nobody knew anylthing
about me 5 fo I was carried to\. the
next village, where the overfeer had
me taken to the parifh workhoufe.
Here I lay-a fortnight, muchneglecledy
before I came to my fenfes. -As fobn
as I became fenfible 'of my condition,
I was almoft diftradted in thinking of
the diftrefs my poor wife, who was
near lying-in, muft-be under on my ac-'
count, not hearing any- thing - of me. I
lay another fortnight before I was fit
to travel, for, befides • the hurt on my
head, I had a broken collar-bone, and
feveral bruifes^ My money had fome-
how all got out: of my pocket, arid, I
had no other:means of getting.away
than by being paffed to my own parifh.
I .returned in fad .plight indeed, and
found my. wife Vefy ill. in bed. My
ii 1 children


P&RSIiVERANCE, &C. 1 $
children were crying about her, and
almoft ftarving. We lliould now
have been quite.loft, had J not raifed
a little money by felling our furniture;
for I was ye't unable to work. As
foon as my wife was fomewhat recover
ed, we were forced to quit cur houfe.
I cried like a child on leaving ( my
blooming garden and flourifliing plan
tations, and was almoft tempted' to
'demolilh them,- rather than another
fliould unjuftiy reap the fruit of my
labours. But I checked myfelf, and
I am' glad I did. We took lodgings
in' a neighbouring village, and I went
round, among the gentlemen of the
country to fee if -1 could get a little
employment. In the mean time the
foimcr ili:ward came down to fettle
accounts widi his' fuccdibr, .and was
much concerned to find me in fuch
a fituation. Me was a verv able
and hone ft man, and ha j bec-n en
gaged by another nobleman 10 fu-
\ OL. I\ . C pi*rhit;nd


0.6 SIXTEENTH'EVENING.
p-erintend a large improveable eilate
in a diftant part , of tKe kingdom.
He told me, if I would try my for
tune with him once more, he would
endeavour to procure me a new fet-'
tlement. I had nothing to lofe, and
therefore was filling enough to run any
hazard, but I was deftitute of means
• to convey my family to fuch a dif-
tance* My good friend, who was
much provoked atthe injuftice of
the new fteward, faid fo much to.
him, that he brought him to make
me ! an allowance for my garden;
and with that I was enabled to make
another removal. It was to the place
I now inhabit.
When I came here, Sir, all this
farm was a naked common, like
that you crofted in coming. My
Lord got an encloftire bill for his
part of it, and the fteward divided
it into, different farms, , and let it on
improving leafes to feveral tenants.
A dreary


perseverance , &c. 27
A dreary fp 0 t, to be fure, it looked
at ■ firft, enough to fink a, man’s heart
to fit-down upon it! I had a little
unfinifhed cottage given me - to . live
in, and as I had nothing to flock a
farm, I was for fome years employed
as head labourer and planter about
the new - enclofures. By very hard
working and-faving, together with a
little help, I Was at length enabled
to take a fmall part, of the ground
I now occupy. I had various dif-
couragements, from bad feafons and,
other accidents. One year the dis
temper carried off four out of feveo.
cows that I kept; another year I loft
two of my beft horfes. ^ A high wind,
once almoft entirely deftroyed an
orchard I had juft planted, and blew
down^ my biggeft barn. But I was
too much ufed to misfortunes to , be
eafily difheartened, and my way always
was to fet about repairing them in
the beft manner I could, and leave
Go, the


28 SIXTEENTH EVENING.
the reft to heaven. . This method
fee ms. to have anfwered at laft. I
have now gone.on many years in, a,
courfe of continued, profperity, add
ing field to field, increafing my
Hock, and bringing up a numerous
family with credit. . My dear wife, ,
who was my faithful partner through
fo much diftrefs, contiraues to fhare
my prosperous, frate; and few couples
in the kingdom, I believe, have more '
caufe to be thankful for their lot.
This,. Sir, is' my hiftory. You fee
.it contains nothing very extraordinary; _
but if it impreffes on. the mind of this
young gentleman the maxim, that pa
tience and perfeverance ' will fcarcely
fail of a good ifiue in . the end, the
time you have fpent in liftening to
it will not entirely be. loft.
M r '-Car let on thanked the good far- -
mer very heartily for the amufement
and inftruftion he had. afforded them,
and took leave with many expreffions
•' . :■ ‘ of ‘


PERSEVERANCE,- &C. - 2 ^
©fregard.. 'Theodore, and he walked
home, talking by the way of what they
had heard. -
Next morning,' Mr, C. looking'out
of window, faw Theodore hard ' at
work in his garden. He .was carefully
difinterring his buried flowers, trim
ming and cleaning them* and -planting »
them an'ew. He had got the gardener
-to cut a flip of the broken rofe-tree,
and fet it in the middle to give it a
chance for growing-."—By- . y^rrf~~
thing was- laid fmoolh and neat, and -
the bed was ' well filled^ All its
fplendour, "indeed, was gone for x the'
pr'eferit,.-' but it feemed in a hopeful
way; to revive again. Theodore looked
with pieafure' over his work V but his
father felt more pleafure in witneffing
the fkft fruits of farmer Hardman's,
ftory. '
C J , SEVEN,-
.


( 3'o .j
SEVENTEENTH EVENING/ -'
- ON METALS..
PART I.
George and Harry , with their Tutor,
one day in their walk wcredrlvenoy
the rain to take fheker in a blackfmith’s
Tome time,
the boys, in order to amufe themfelves,
began to examine the things around
them. The great bellows firft attra&ed
their notice, and they admired the roar
ing it made, and the expedition with
which', it raifed .the fire to a heat too
intenfe for them to look at. • They
were furpri’fed at the dexterity , with •
which the fmith fafhioned a-bar of
iron into a horfefhoe; firft heating it,
then hammering it well on the anvil,
cutting off a proper length, bending it
rounds .


. ON> METALS. ; ^ I
ro«nd,~ turning up the ends, ancPlaftly,.
punching the naii- holes. T-hey watched
the whole procds of fitting it to the
hor.fe’s foot, and fattening it on ; and
it had become fair fome minutes before
they fhewed a defire to leave the ihop>
and proceed on their walk,
I could' never have thought (fays
George,' beginning the converfation)
that fuch a hard thing as iron could:
have been fo eafily managed..
Nor I neither ({aid Harry),
tfut.. It was managed, you faw, by
the help of fire. The fire made it'foft
and flexible, fo that the fmith could
eafily hammer it, ' and cut - it, and
bend it to the fhape he wanted y and
then dipping it in water, made it:
hard again. 1 ■* ’
G. Are -all other metals managed in:
the fame manner ?'
2". They are all worked by the ;heip
of fire in fome way or other, .either in
melting them, or .making them foft. :
iV C 4 G.- There,


32 , SEVENTEENTH EVENING. .
G. There are a good many forts of
metals, are there not ?
- C T. Yes, feveral; and if you have a
mind I will tell you about them, and
their ufes.
' - Pray do, Sir. ’
H. Yes j I jfhould like to hear it of
all things." • ' '
T. Well then. Firft let uscon-
fider what a metal is. Do -you think
yoii fhould know one from'a ftone ? ‘
G. A ftone !•—Yes, I could not
'miftake a piece of lead or iron for
a 'ftone. '
5V How would you diflinguifh it ? *;• ;
G. A metal is bright and fhining.
jT. True—brilliance is one of their
qualities. -But glafs and cryftal are ver^
bright, too. ' : .. ' .
. H. But one may fee through glafs,
and' not through a piece of metal.
C T. -Right. , Metals are brilliant, *but
opake, or not tranfparent. - The- tftin-
neft- plate of metal' that can be made,


■ ON'METALS ; .
will keep out the light as effedtially as
a ftone wall. . -
G. Metals are very heavy too.
T. True. They are the .heavieft
bodies in nature; for the lighted metal
is nearly twice-as heavy, as the heavieft
fton'e. Well, what elfe ?’
G: Why, they will bear beating with
a hammer/ which a ftone would, not,,
without flying in pieces..
< T. Yes; that'property of extending
orfpreading under the hammer is called
malleability y and 1 another, like it, is that
of bearing to be drawn out into a; wirej
which is called dvMuity.- Metals have
.boththefe, and much of their ufe de
pends upon them.
G . Metals will melt too. * - j /
•What!' wilf iron meltr:
T. Yes j\’all metals will rnelt, though
fome require greater heat tliarl others.
The property of belting is called fufi
lility. Do • you know any thing more
about them?: ■ * ;
' ' , ■' C 5 - . / G. Noi


34 SEVENTEETH EVENING.
G. No } except -that they come out
of the ground, I believe. ■ ~ ,
T*. That is properly added, for it is
the circumftance which makes them
rank among fojfils, or minerals. To
fum up their character, then, a metal
is a brilliant, opake, heavy, malleable.,
du£tile, and fufible mineral. .
G. I think I can hardly remember
all that.
The names may flip your me
mory, but you cannot fee metals at:
all ufed without being fenfible of the -
things . '' ■ :
G. But what are ores ? 1 remember
feeing a heap of iron ore which men
were breaking with hammers, and it
looked only like ftones.
- l T. The ore of a metal is the ftate in
which it is generally met with 'in the _
earth, when it is fo mixed with ftony
and others matters, as not to ihew its
proper qualities as a.metal.
Ii. How do people know it then ?
r. By


ON METALS. 3S
T. By experience. It was probably
accident that in the early ages dif-
covered that certain foffils by the force .
of fire might be made to yield a metal.
The experiment was repeated on other
foffils: fo that in length of time all the-
different metals were found out, and all.
the different forms in which they lie
concealed'in the ground. The know
ledge of this is called Mineralogy^ and;
a very important fcience it is.
G. Yes, I fuppofe fo for. metals are
very valuable things.. Our next neigh
bour, Mr. Sterling, I have heard, gets,
a great deal of money every year from:
his mines in-Wales..
T. He does. The mineral riches
of fome countries are much fuperior
to that of their products above
ground, and the revenues of many
kings are in great part derived, from,
their mines.
H> I fuppofe they muft be gold and.
filver mines.
C 6 r. Thofe,


36 SEVENTEENTH EVENING. / '
2". Thcfe, to; be fure, are the m.oft
valuable, if the metals are found into
lerable abundance. But do you know
v/hy they are fo ?
Et. Becaufe money is made of- gold
.and fiiver. ;
T.. That is a principal reafon, no
doubt. But thefe metals have intrinfic
properties that make them highly valu- ^
T able, elfe-probably they would not have
been chofen in fo many countries to
■ make money of. In ' the firft place,
gold and fiiver are both prfe5t metals ,.
that is, indeftru<5tible in the fire. Other
metals, if kept a confiderable time in the
fire,. change by degrees into a powdery-
or fcaly matter,' called a calx. You
have melted lead, I dare fay. . .
G. Yes, often. , /■
T". Have you not, then, perceiyed
a droffy film colled upon its. furface
after ..it had been kept melting a'
while. ■ ' , '


ON .METALS'.- - 3J
G. Yes.
c £. That is a calx s and in time the
whole lead would change to fuch a fyb-
ilance. You may fee, too,' when you
, have heated the poker red hot, fome
> fcales feparate from it, which are brittle
and droffy.
'Hi Yes—the kitchen poker is al-
■ nioft burnt away by putting it’ in the
■ fire. . _ ' '
, T. Well—All metals undergo thefe
changes, except gold and filver j but '
thefe, if kept ever fo" long in the hatteft
’fire,, fui^ain no lofs or change. They
are therefore called perjeff.- metals.
(jold has feveral other remarkable
properties. It; is the heavieft oP all
metals.
H. .What, is it heavier than lead ?
T.. Yes—^above'half as heavy again.
It is between nineteen and twenty times
heavier than an equal bulk of water.
This great weight is a ready means
of difcovering counterfeit gold coin
\ from


3§ SEVENTEENTH EVENING,
from genuine j for as gold muft be adul
terated with fomething much lighter
than itfelfj a falfe coin, if of the fame
weight with the true, will be fenfibly
bigger. Gold, too, is the rhoft du£Ule
of all metals. You have feen leaf-,
gold ?.
G. Yes; I bought a book of it.
once.
Leaf-gold is made by beating;
a plate of gold placed between pieces
of fkin, with heavy hammers, till it is
Ipread out to the utmoft degree of
thinnefs.. - And fo great is its capacity
for being extended, that a fingle grain
of the metal, which would be fcarce
bigger than a. large pin’s head, is
beat out ‘to a furface of fifty fquare
inches.
G. That is wonderful indeed ! but
I know leaf gold muft be very thin,
for it will almoft float upon the
air.
T. By


ON METALS®./ ; -
'J*. 'By drawing gold out to a :wire,
it may be ftiil further extended. Gold- '
- wire, as it is called, is made with* filver,
overlaid with a fmall proportion of
gold, and they are drawn out together;
Irr the wire commonly ufed for laces,,
and embroidery, and the like, a grain
of golcl is madex completely to. cover
a length of three hundred and fifty-two 1
feet; and when it is ftretched ftill farther
by flatting, it will reach four hundred
and one feet,
H+ Prodigious ! .What a vaft way
a guinea might be drawn out, then !
»Yes i the gold of a guinea at that
rate, would reach above nine miles and
: a half. This property in gold of being
. capable of extenfion to fo extraordinary
a degree, is owing tb its great tenacity
or.cohelion of particles, which-is fuclv
that you can fcarcely-break a piece of
gold wire by twiftirig itj and a wire .
of gold will fuftain a greater weight
. - than


40 SEVENTEENTH. EVENFNG.
than one of any other metal,, equally
thick. ' '
H. Then/it would make very good
wire for hanging bells.
T. It would; but fuch bell-hanging
would come rather too'dear. Another
valuable quality of gold is its fine co
lour. You know,, fcarce any thing
makes a -more fplendid appearance
than gilding. And: a peculiar advan
tage of it is that gold is not liable
to' ruft dr. tarnilh as other . metals are.
It will keep its colour frefh for a’ great
many years in a pure and clear air.
H. I remember the vane of the
church fteeple was new gilt two years
ago^ and it. looks as well as at fifftj
T. This, property . of not - ruffing
would render gold very ufeful for a
variety" of purpofes, if it were more
common. • It ,would make excellent
cooking utenfils, water-pipes> mathe
matical inftrumentSj clock-work, -and
the like. ^ , ■
G.'Bufr
: ■ , , y


. ON METALS. 4-5
' G. But is not gold foft ? X have feen
pieces of gold bent double. .
T. Yes ; it is next in foftnefs to
lead/ and therefore when it is made
into coin, or ufed for any common,
purpofes, it is mixed with a fmall
proportion of feme . other metal, in
order to harden it. This is called its
alloy. Our gold coin has one-twelfth:,
part of alloy, which is a mixture of
filver. and copper.: '
G. How beautiful new gold coin is! •
tf. .Yes—fcarce. any metal takes, a
ftamp or impreffion better y and it is
capable of a very,fine polifh. '
G. What countries yield the moft
gold ?
5T. ' South America, the Eaft Indies,
and v the coaft of Africa. Europe af
fords but little 5 yet a moderate quan
tity is got every year from Hungary.
G. I have read of rivers rolling
farids of gold. Is there 'any truth in
that ? '
, T. The


42 SEVENTEENTH EVENING..
T. The poets ; as-ufuaVhave greatly'
exaggerated the matter; however^ thefe-
are various ftreams in different parts-
of the world,' the fands of which con
tain particles of gold, and fome of
them in fuch quantity as to be worth;
the fearch.
H. How does 'the gold come there,?.
T,. It is wafhed. down along with the:
foil from mountains by the - torrents,,
which arc the fources of rivers. . Some
perfons fay that all fands contain gold
but I would not advife you to take the
pains to fearch for it .in our common:::
-fand ; for in more fenfes than one, . gold-
may he bought too dear.. . 1 ’■ .
H. But what a fine thing it would,
be to find a gold mine on one’s,
eftate !. .
ST. Perhaps not fo fine as you may r
imagine, for many*a one* does not pay
the coft. of working. A coal pit would;
probably be a better thing. Who do,-


• ON METALS.' 43
you think are the.greateft gold-finders
in Europe ?
H. ' I don’t know.
c t. The gypfies, in Hungary, . A
number of half-ftarved, half-naked
wretches of-that community employ
themfelves in walhing and picking the
fands of forne mountairPftreams . in
that country which contain gold, from
which they obtain jult profit ienOUgh
tp * keep body and foul together j
■whereas, had they employed them
felves in agriculture or manufactures,
they might have got a comfortable
fubfiftence. . Gold almoft all the world
over is firft got by ilaves, and it
makes flaves of thofe who poffefs much
of it. ,
GV For my part, I will be content
with a filver mine.
H. But we have none of thofe in
England, have we ?
T. .We have "no filver mines . pro
perly fo called, but filver is procured/


44 ‘ SEVENT£ ENT H EVEN INGv
in fome of our lead mines. There-:
are, ^however,. pretty rich-filver rcines^
in various parts of Europe; but the
richeft- of all are in Peru, in South,
America;;' v
G. Are not the famous mines of.
Potofi there ?
. 2"- They are. Shall I now tell you:
fome of the properties of filver?
G. By all means.
71 It is the other prfefi metal. - It
is ,alfo as little liable to ruft as jgold,
.though r indeed it readily . gets tar-
nifhed. • ,
' H. Yesj ;I "know our footman is.
often obliged; to clean our plate before-
. it is ufedv ' ... ,
,3". Plate, however/ is not made, of
pure filver,. any more than filver coin,
and filver utenfils of all kinds.. An a!-'
loy is mixed with it, as with gold, to.
harden, it; and that makes it more
. liable'to tarniill,
G . Bright'


t)N ' METAL'S. 45
G Bright filver, f think,, is alnroil
■as beautiful as gold. ' -- , -
X- It is the fnoft beautiful' of the
white 'metals, and is . capable- of a very
fine polifh $. and this, together with its
rarity, make^ ir ujed for a great va
riety of ornamental purpofes. Their"
it is nearly as dudtile and malleable
as gold. - ' , .. . . _
G. I have had filver-leaf, and it
feemed* as thin as gold-leaf.
T. It is nearly fo. k That is ufed for
Tilv'ering, as gold-leaf is for gilding.
It is common, too, to cover metals
with a 7 thin coating of filvefj which is
called, plating.
H.' The child’s; faucepan is filvered
over on the infide. . ^hat is that
for? ■' ,v : ■- :
T. To preve'nt the. victuals-from
getting any taint from the metal of the
faucepan ; for ■ Giver is not-capable of
being corroded or diffolved by any of
• . • •; ' the •


46 SEVENTEENTH EVENING. .
the liquids ufed for food, as iron or
copper are.
H. And that is the reafon, I fup-
pofe, that fruit knives are made of
filver.
T. It is i but the foftnefs of the
metal makes them bear a very poor
edge. .
G. Does filver melt eafily ?
T*. Silver and gold both melt more
difficultly than lead j not till they are
above a common' red heat. As to the
weight of filver, it is nearly one half
lefs'than that of gold, being only eleven
times heavier than water.
H. I-s quickfilver a kind of filver ?
2". It takes its name from filver, be
ing very like it in colour - 3 but in re
ality it is a very different thing, and
one of the moft fingular of ,the metal
kind.
G. It is not malleable , I am fure.
T. No; when it is quick or fluid, as it
always is in our climate. But a very
6 great


ON 'METALS-. 47
•great degree of cold makes it folid,
and then it is malleable, like other
metals, c . ; -
G, I have heard of killing quick-
filver ; pray what does that mean ?
It means deftroying its property ,
of running about, by mixing it with
fomewhat elfe. Thus, if quiekfilver
be well' rubbed with fat, or oil, or
gum, it unites with them, lofing all
its metallic appearance and fluidity.
It alfo unites readily with gold and
filver, and feveral other metals, into
the form of a kind of fhining pafle,
which is called an amalgam . This is
one .of the ways of gilding or iilver-
ing-a ' thing. Your buttons are gilt
by means of an amalgam.
G. How is that done ?
T. The (hells of the button, which
are made of copper, are ihakeii .ina
hat with a lump of amalgam of gbld and
quiekfilver, till they are all covered over
with it. They are then put into a fort
— of


. 4S SEVENTEENTH 'EVENING.
of v frying-pan and held over the fire.
The qirickfilver.>. Being very volatile in
its nature, .flies off in. the form -of a
fmoke or vapour when it. is heated,,
leaving the T gold behind it, fpread over
the furface of- the button. ■ Thus many
' dozen' are gilt, at once with the'greateft
eafe. • ’ . .
■ y. Si\ What a clfever way ! I • fhould
like vaftly tovfee it done.
. T. You may- fee it any day at Bir
mingham, if you happen to be there ;
as well as ,a great many other curious
operations on metals.
' G. Wh,at a weight quickfilver f js.l. 1
remember taking up a bottle full of
it, and I had- like to have.dropt it
again, it was 10 much heavier than I
expe&ed. , r
■ < T. Yes, it is one of the heavieft
of- : the : metals—about' fifteen -.times*
heavier than water. ■ . : ■■■' - *
G. Is not mercury a name for quick- ,
filver I * «I have heard them talk -of


•ON METALS. . : .49
the. mercury rifing and falling in the
weather glafs. • ' .. •
. T. It is. You, perhaps, may have
heard too of mercurial' medkineSj which
are thofe made of quickfilver prepared'
in one manner or another.
G. What are they good for?.
T. For a-great variety of complaints.
Your. brother took fome lately for the
worms ; and they are often given for
breakings out on the fkin, and for fores
and fwellings.' But they have one re-,
markable effeft, when taken in a con
siderable quantity, which is,, to loo fen
the teeth, and caufe a great fpitting.
.This is called falivation.- —
H. I ufed to think quiekfilver was
poifon.
C T. When it is in its common ftate of
running quickfilver, it generally, does
neither goocl nor harm j but it may be\
prepared, fo as to be a very violent me
dicine, or even a poifon.
G, Is it ufeful for any thing elfe ?
Vol. IV. D <?. Yes


'jO SEVENTEENTH EVENING.
T. Yes—for a variety of purpofes
in the arts, which I cannot now very
well explain to you. But'.you will per
haps be furprifed to hear that one of
the fineft red paints is made from quick - ?,
filver. ' - ;
G. A red paint!—which is .that ? y
C T. Vermilion, or cinnabar, which is .
a particular mixture of fulphur with
quickfilver.
H. Is quickfilver found in this coun- ..
try?'
T. No.' The greateft quantity comes .
from Spain, Iftria, and South America.
It is a confiderable ©bjed of commerce,
and bears a high value, though much
inferior to filver. Weli—fo much for
metals at preJent. We will talk of the
reft on fome future opportunity.
THE


( S 1 )
THE PRICE OF 'A VICTORY.
' Good news! great news! glorious
news! cried young OJwald, as he en
tered his father’s houfe. .We have got
a complete vi6tory, and have killed I
don’t know how 1 many thoufands of the
enemy; and we are to have bonfires
and illuminations!
, 'And fo, faid his father, you think that
killing a great many thoufends of hu-
> man creatures is a thing to be very g]a$
about..
.Of. No—I do not quite think fo,
neither; but furely it is right to be glad
that our country has gained a great ad
vantage. ' '
E . ,No doubt, it is right to wilh well ^
to our country, as far as its profperity
can be promoted without injuring the
reft of mankind. But wars are very
feldom to the real advantage of any
U 2 nation *


52 SEVENTEENTH EVENING..
nation and when they are ever fo ufe- :
ful or necejTary, fo many dreadful evils
.attend them, that a humane man .will
fcarcely rejoice in them, if he confiders
at all on the fubje<5t.- . . -
Of. But if our enemies would do us a
great deal of mifchief,: and we prevent
it by beating them, have not we a right
to be glad of it ?
• ;Alas! we are in general little
judges which of the parties has the mod
mifchievous intentions. Commonly they
are both in the wrong; and fuccefs will
make both of them unjuft and unreason
able. But putting them out of the quef-
tion, N he who rejoices in the etfent of a
battle, rejoices in the mifery of many
thoufands of his fpecies; and the thought
of that fhould make him paufe a little.
Suppofe a furgeon were to come with
a fmiling countenance, and tell us trium
phantly that he had cut off half a dozen
legs to-day*—what would you think of
him ?
,' oj. i


PRICE OF A' VICTORY. \ ' ^
Of- I, fhould think him., very hard-
heaited. / . '
-F. And yet thofe.operation's are done
for the benefit of the fuffifrers, and by
their-own defire. .Butina battle,'the"-
probability is that none of -thofe en
gaged on either fide have any intereft at
all in the caufe they are fighting . for,
and moft of them come there becaufe;
they cannot help it. In this battle that
you are To rejoiced' about, there have
been ten thoufa-nd men killed upon the
fpot, and nearly as many wounded..
Of On both fides.
F. Yes—but they are men on both
fides... Confider now, that the ten thoi^-
fand fent out of'the worldjn this morn
ing’s work, though they are pad feeling'
themfelves, have left probably two per-
fons each, on an average, to lament
their lofs, either parents, .wives, or chil-'
dren. Here are then twenty .t’noufand
•people made unhappy at one ftroke on
their account. This, however, is hardly
' D 3 ■ . fo


54 SEVENTEENTH EVENING. .
fo dreadful to think of ,as the condition ■
of the wounded. At the moment we
are talking, eight or ten,thoufand more
are lying in agony, torn with fhot oc-
gafhed with ctfts, their wounds all fef-
tering, fome hourly to die a moft ex-,
cruciating death, others to linger in
torture weeks and months, and- many
doomed to drag on a miferable exiftence
for the reft of their lives, with difeafed
and mutilated bodies. - ;
Of. This is fhocking to think ofj in
deed! ; ■■■■-.'■
K When you light your candles/
then, this evening, think what theycofi .
Of. But every^ body elfe is , glad,
and feem to think nothing ’ of thefe
things. . ' •
F. True—they do not think of them.
If they did, I cannot fiippofethey would
be fo void of feeling as to enjoy them-
felves in merriment when fo many of
their fellow-creatures are made mifer
able. Do you not remember when
poor


PRICE OF A VICTORY. 55
pp.or Dickens had his leg broken to
pieces by a loaded waggon,, how all the
town pitied him ? ,
Of Yes, .very. well.. 1 could not
fleep. the night after for thinking -of'
him. . ' ■ , : :
: iv But here are thoufands fuffering
as much as he, and we fcarce beftow-a
fingle thought on. them, If any one of
thefe poor creatures were before our
eyes, \ve_ fhould probably feel much
more than we now do for all together.
Shall X tell you a ftory of a foldier’s
fortune, that came; to my own know
ledge ? ,
Of Yes—pray do!
F. In the village where I went to
fchool, there was an honeft indullrious
weaver and his wife, who had an only,
fon, named Walter^ juft come to man’s
eflate. Walter wasa good and dutiful
lad, and a clever workman, fo that he
was a great help to his parents. One
/ unlucky day, having gone, to the next
,D 4 . market


$6 SEVENTEENTH EVENING.
market -town with fome -work*. he met
with, a companion, who : took him to
the alehoufe and treated him. - As he
■was coming away, a recruiting ferjeant
entered the room, who feeing Walter
to be a likely young fellow, had a great
mind to entrap him. He perfuaded
him to'fit down again and take a glafs
with him s. and kept him in talk with fine
”ilories about afoldier’s life, till 'Walter-.
got fuddled before he was aware : The
ferjeant then clapt a Oiilling in his hand
to drink his majefty’s health, and told
. -hiin- he was enlifted. He was kept, there
all night, and next morning was taken
before a magiftrate to be fworn in.
' Walter had now become fober, and was
very forry for what he had done; but
he was told that he could- not get off.
without paying' a guinea fmart-money.
This he., knew not how to raife j and
being like wife afraid and -afhamed to
face , his friends, he took the oath and
bounty money, and marched away widi
_ the


' PRICE OF A VICTORY• $j
the ferjeant without ever returning.
home.' His poor father : and mother,
when-they heard of the affair^ were-ak
mofts heart-.-brokenj and -a young wo-.
man in the village who • .Was^his/Tweet-''
heart, -hadlike to have gone-diftraftedv
Walter fent them a line from the firfb
ftage, to, bid them farewell, and-comfort
them.. ; -He, joined - his regiment,; which
foon embarked for Germany, where it
continued tilltire peace. -.Walter once or
twice fent. worduhome of-his welfare,\
but for the laft'.. year nothing was heard^
of- him. :
Of. Where, was he then ?
F.Y on fliall hear.Onefummer’seven- ■
ing, a man in an old red, coat, hobbling':
on crutches, was feen to, enter the village. ■
His countenance, was pale and fickly, his -
cheeks hollow, and ’ his whole appear-■
ance befpoke extreme^wretchiednefs^ Se
veral people gathered roun& him, look
ing earnellly in his face. A nong thefe,.
a ; young .woman, having gazed, at him a -
D 5. : ■ while,


. 5^ SEVENTEENTH EVENING.
while,.cried out,’-my Walter I , andfaint-
;ed;away. Walter fell on the-ground
befide her. His father and mother
being fetched by fome of the fpe&ators,
came and took him in their arms, weep
ing bitterly. 1 faw the whole fcene, and
fhall never; forget it. At length the
neighbours helped them into the houfe,
where Walter told them the following
ftory. ... A '• •
<s At the laJft great battle that our
troops gained iiiGermany, I was among ,
the firfl engaged, and received a fhot
that broke my thigh* I fell,, and. pre-,
fently after, our regiment was forced td
retreat.' A fquadron of the enemy’s
horfe came galloping down upon us.
A trooper making a blow at me with'
his fabre as I~lay, 1 lifted up my arm ,
to fave my head,, and got a cut which
divided all the finews at the back of
imy wrift. Soon after, the enemy were
driven back and £ame acrofs. us again.
A horle fet his,foot on my fide, and
broke


PRICE OF A VICTORY. $$■
broke three of my riHs. The a&ion
was long and bloody, and the wounded
on both Tides were left on the field all
night. A dreadful night it was to me,
you may think ! I had fainted .through
lofs of blood, and when I recovered,
I was tormented with thirft, and the
cold air made my wounds fmart intoler
ably. About noon next day, waggons
came to carry away thofe who remained:
alive; and I, with a number of others*
was put into one to be conveyed to the
next.'town. The motion of the car
riage was terrible for my broken bones—
every jolt went to ray heart. We were ■
taken to an hofpital, which was crammed
as full as it could hold y and we lhould
all have been fufFocated with the heat.
and ftench,. had not a fever broke out,,
which foon thinned our numbers. I
took it, and was twice given over;,
however," I ftruggled through. But
my wounds proved fo difficult to heal,,
that it was almoft a twelvemonth be-
P 6 fore


6O' SEVENTEENTH EVENING.
fore I could be difcharged. A great
deal of die bone of my thigh came away
in fplinte-rs-, - and left the limb crooked.
and ufdefs as you fee. - I entirely loft
the ufe- of: three fingers of my-right
hand; and my broken ribs made me
Ipit blopd a lcrng time, and have left a
cough and:difficulty of breathing, which
I;, believe; will, bring me to my’grave.
I was jfent’ home and difcharged from
the army, and 1 have begged my way
hither as well as Jj could. I am told
that the peace has left the affairs of my
country juft as- they were, before; but
.whp will reftore me my health and
limbs? ■ X am put on the lift for a
Chelfea penfioneri. which will fupporc
me 3 if I live to receive it^ without be
ing a burden to my friends. That is
all that remains for Walter .n ow !”
. \Of. Poor Walter! Wh_at became of
him afterwards ? . - -
F. The wound of his thigh broke
out afrefh, and difcharged more fpl inters
'.after


PRICE OF A VICTORY. 6 K
after a great deal of pain and fever. As
winter came on, his cough increafed.:
He wafted to a ! fkeleton, and died .the
next fpring.’ - The young woman, his-
fweetheart, fat up with him every night
to the.laftj and foon after his death ille
fell into a confumption, and followed
him. The old people,' deprived of
' the; ftay-and comfort of their age,, fell
into'defpatr and. poverty,, and were taken
into the workhoufe,. where they ended
their days. ■
This was the hiftory of Walter the
Joldler. It has been that of thoufands
.more ; and will be that of many a poor
fellow over whofe fate you are now rer.
joicing. Such is th z-price of a Viffory,
II.GE-


EIGHTEENTH EVENING.
: GOOD COMPANY/
Besure, Frederick, always keep ■ good
^company 3 was the final admonition- of
Mr. '■Lofty', on difmiffing his fon to the
'univerfity.
l intreat you, Henry, always to chdofe
good company , faid Mr . Manly ^ on part
ing with his fon to an apprenticefhip in
a neighbouring towni \
But it was impoffible for two people
to mean more differently by the fame
words.
In Mr.' Lofiy’s idea, good company
was that of perfons fuperior to ourfelves'
in rank and fortune. By this alone he
eftimated it 3 and the degrees of com- ,
parifon, better and belt, were made
; . - exadly


GOOD COMPANY. 6j
exa&ly to correfpond to fu'ch a fcale.
Thus, if an efquire was good company,
a baronet was better, and a lord, b eft of
all > provided that he was not a poor lord,
for in that cafe, a rich gentleman might
be at lead as good. For as, accord
ing to Mr. Loftf % maxim,. the-great
purpofe for which companions were to
be chofen,'was to advance a young man
in 'the world by their credit and intereft,
thofe were to be preferred, who afford
ed the beft profpe&s in this refpe£h
Mr. Manly] on the other hand, un-
derftood by good company, that which.^
was improving to the morals and uhder-
llandiiTg ; and by . the b'eft-, that which.,
to a high degree of thefe qualities.,
added true politenefs of manners. As
fuperior advantages in education to a
certain point accompany fuperiority of
condition, he wifhed 'his Ton to prefer
as companions thofe whofe fitu'ation in
life had afforded them the opportunity of
being well educated; but he was far from
3. defiring


6 4 EIGHTEENTH- EVENING.
(defiring him to fimn connexions wirir
worth and talents,, wherever-he fhould'
find them.-
, '.Mr... Lofty had an utter averfion to*
low company, by which he meant inferiors,
people of no fafhion and figure, fhabby*
fellows,-whom nobody knows.
1 Mr. Manly equally difliked low com--
pany, underftanding by it perfons of
mean habits and vulgar conv-erfttion;
A • great part of Mr. Many’s good'
company, was Mr; Lefty's low com
pany and not-a few^of Mn.iL^’s very "
beft company,; were Mr. Manly r s very",
worft. •- 1 ...
, Each of the fons- underwood his fa
ther’s meaning, and followed his advice.
' Frederick , from the time. of his en
trance at the. Univerfity, commenced'
what is called, a Tuft-hunter., from the'
tuft in the cap worn by young, noble
men. He took pains to infinuate him- :
felf into the good graces • of all the-’.
young men of .high fafliion in his col- ■
. . lc S^


GOOD' COMPANY. ’ &
lege, and became a conftant companion
in their fchemes of frolic and diffipatio'n.
They treated him with an infolent fami
liarity, often bordering upon contempt
but following another maxim of liis fa
ther’s, fc one.muft. (loop to rife,” he
took it all in' good part.. He totally
-neglected ftudy, as unnecellary, and in
deed iriconfiftent with his plan. He
fpent a great deal of money, with which'
his father, finding that it went in good
cpm / pany i at fir ft fupplied him freely.
In time, however,- his expences amount-;
- ed to fo much, that Mr.. Lofty , who
' kept good company too, found it diffi-
. cult .to anfwer his demands. A con-
fiderable fum that he loft,.at play with
one of his' noble friends, increafed the
difficulty. If it were not' paid, the dif-
grace of not having difcharged a debt of
honour would lofe him all the "favour he
had acquired ; yet the-money could not
be railed without greatly embarraffing
his father's affairs. .,-'". ■ • l /
- ' ' ■' • -Ta


66 . EIGHTEENTH EVENING.
-In the midft of this perplexity, Mr.
Lofty died, leaving behind, him a large
family, and very little property. Fre
derick came up to town, andfoon difTi-
pated in good company the fcanty portion
that came to his (hare. Having neither
' induftry, knowledge, nor reputation, he
was then obliged to become an humble
dependent on the great, flattering all
their follies, and miniftering to their
vices, treated by them with mortifying
neglect, and equally defpifed and de-
tefted by the reft of the world. ,
Henry , in the mean time, entered with
fpirit into the bufinefs of his new pro-
feflion, and employed his leifure in cul
tivating an acquaintance with a few
feletfl friends. Thefe were partly young
men in a fituation fimilar to his own,
partly perfons already fettled in life, but
all diftinguifhed by propriety of con-
dufl, and improved underftandings.
From all of them he learned ’fomewhnt
valuable j but he was more /particularly
indebted


GOOD COMPANY. 67
indebted to two of them, who were in-
a ftation of life inferior to that of the reft.
One was ' a watchmaker, an excellent
mechanic and tolerable mathematician,
and well acquainted with the conftruc-
tion and ufe of all the inftrume'nts
employed in experimental philofophy.
The other ‘was,a young druggift, who
had a good knowledge of, chymiftry,
and frequently employed himfclfin chy-
mical operations and experiments. Both
of them were men of very decent man
ners, and took a pleafure in communicat
ing their knowledge to fuch as fhewed a
tafte for fimilar fludies. Henry fre-.
quently vifited them, and derived much
ufeful information from their infrac
tions, for whiph he ever expreffed great
thankfulnefs. Thefe various occupa
tions and good examples effectually
preferved him from the errors of youth,
and he patted his time with credit and
iatisfad'ion. He had the fame misfor
tune with Frederick,]^ as he was ready
to


68 : EIGHTEENTH EVENING.
to come out into : the-world, of lofing'
his father, upon whom the^bppon: of
.the family chiefly depended; but in the
charader lie had eftabliThed, and the
knowledge he had acquired, he found'
an efFedual refource. One ofhis young-
friends propofed to him a partnerfhip in
a manufadhire he had juft-fet up at con-
fiderable expence, requiring for his fhare
only the exertion of his talents and induf-
try. Henry accepted the offer, and made
fuch good ufe of the Ml in mechanics
a!nd chymiftry he had acquired, that he!
introduced many improvements into the'
manufactory* and rendered it" a very
profitable concern. He lived profper-
Cus and independent,. ancT retained in
manhood all the friendships of his>
yauth.^
THE


• THE DOG BAULKED OF HIS
DINNE'R.
A TALE. .
TWHKy ourfelf Jure ofnoth'ng till you've gat it:
This is the leffon of the day, ' •
- ■ • In metaphoric language i might fay, -
■Count not your bird before you’ve {hot it.
Quoth; proverb, “■ tvvixt the cup and lip
; There’s many a flip.’- , - ; - • ‘
Not every gueft invited fits.at table,.
So fays my fable.
A man once gave a’dinner to his friend;
His friend !-—his patron.I ihould ratherithinkjT-
By all-the; loads of meat and drink,'•
And fruits and jelli,es without .end,
Sent home the morning of the feaft.
Jowler his dog; a focial beafl,
.Soon as he fmelt the matter out, away
Scampers to old acquaintance idi ;
-,- 1 ' And with.expreffions kind and hearty,
Invites him to the party.
*1’ray wanted little preffing. to a dinner ;
' He was, in truth, a gormandizing linner.
He lick’d his chops and wagg’.d his tail;
Dear friend ! (he cried) 1 will not fail:


JO EIGHTEENTH' EVENING.
But what’s your hour ?
We dine at four ;
But if you, come ah hour too foon, ' ;
You’ll find there’s fomething to be done.
His friend withdrawn, Tray, full'of glee, '
As blithe as blithe could be,
. Skipt, danc’d, and play’d full many a.n antic,
Like one half frantic,
Then fober in the fun lay winking, .
But could not fleep for thinking.
He thought o’er every dainty dilh,
-V Fried, boil’d, and roaft,
Flefh, fowl, and fifh,
With tripes and toaft, >
. Fit for a dog to eat; •
i£nd in his fancy made a treat,"
Might grace a bill of fare
For my,Lord May’r. -
At length, juft.on the.ftroke of three,
Forth fallied he;
And thro’, a well-known hole
", ; He flily Hole •
Pop on the fcenfc of-a&ion. • -
Here he beheld with wondrous, fatisfaflion,
All hands employ’d in drawing; fluffing,
• Skewering, fpitting, and bafting,
The redfac’d cook fweating and puffing,
, ; Chopping, mixing, and tailing. ,
rr ' ; ’ ^ ■ ' ' fray*


' ( DOG BAULKED OF HIS DINNER. J I
Tray fkull’d about, now here, now there, '
And peep’d in ^his, and fmelt at that,
- - And lick’d the gnu-y and the fat, ■ (
And cried, 0 rare ! how I fliall fare !
But Fortune, fpiteful as Old Nick,
Refolv’d to play'our dog a trick.
She made the cook
Juft call a look,
Where Tray beneath the drcfTer lying ,
, His promis’d blifs was eyeing
A cook while cooking is a fort of fury ;
A maxim worth rememb’ring, I aflure ye.
Tray found it true,
And fo may you,
If e’er you chufe to try.
How now ! (quoth fhe) what’s this I fpy ?
A nafty cur 1 who let him in ?
Would he were hang’d with all his kin ! .
A pretty kitchen gueft indeed 1
But I fhall pack him' off with fpeed.
So faying, on poor Tray fhe flew,
And dragg’d the culprit forth to view ; f
Then, to his terror, and amazement,
Whirl’d him like lightning through the cafement.
THE


(.:72: )
■ THE UMBELLIFEROUS PLANTS.
. Tutor—George — Harry.
H. What plant js that man gather-:
ing under the hedge ?
G. I don’t know j but boys call the
ftalks kexes, and blow through them.
H. I have feen them ; but! want-to
know the plant. ^
G. Will you pleafe to tell us, Sir,
■what it is.
' T, It is hemlock.
G. Hemlock is poifon, is it not ?
fT. Yes, in. fome degree; and it is alfo
a medicine. , That man is gathering it ~
for the apothecaries. ; r : •
H, Ilhould like to know it.
ST. Well then—go and bring one,
[Hany. fetches it,
G. I think I have feen a great many,
of this fort. . -
: ,2V Per-


. U M BELL f FERGUS PLANTS.
5f. Perhaps,you may; but there are
many other kinds of plants extrerqely
like it. ; It is one of a large family;
called .die umbelliferous ^which contains
both food, phyfic, and poifon. It will
be worth while for you to know fome-
.thing about thenv fo let us examine;
this hemlock clofely. You fee. this tall
hollow fUlk, which divides-into feverai
branches^ from each of which fpring
.fpokes or rundles as they are called, of
, flower-ftalks. You fee they are like
rays from a circle, or. the fpokes of a
wheel. ■ '■ , %. • ' ■
H. O r like the flicks of an umbrella. -
True ; and they are called umbels ,
.which has the, fame derivation. —If you
purfue one of thefe rundles or umbels,'
you-will find that each (tick or fpoke
terminates in anotherfet of fmallerfralks*
each of which bears a' fingle fmall
flower. , •
G. They are fmall ones indeed, ;
; Vol.IV. 1 . E T. But-


74 EIGHTEENTH EVENING..
c t. But if you ' look fharply/ I
dare fay your eyes are good enough to
diftinguifh that they' are divided into ,
live leaves,. and furnifhed -with five
chives', and two piftils in the-middle.
H. 1 can fee them.
G. And fo can I. -
2".'The piftils are fucceeded by a
fort of fruit, which is a twin feed joined
in the middle, as you may fee in this
rundle that ispaft flowering. Here I
divide one of them into two.
G. Would each of thefe grow ?
T. Yes. Well— this is the ftru&ure
of the flowering part of all the umbelli
ferous tribe. Now fqr the leaf. Pluck
. .one. . . / - ' . ’ ' .
H. Is this one leafy or many ?
2V It is properly one, but; it is cut
. and divided into many portions. From
* this mid-rib fpring fmaller leaves- ,fet
oppofite each other j and from the
rib of each’ of thefe, -proceed others,
.: which-


- UMBELLIFEROUS PLANTS. - 75
which •the'mfelves are alfo divided.
Thefe are called ' doubly or trebly
pinnated leaves; and moft of the um
belliferous plants, but not all, have
leaves of this kind. :
H,, It is like a parfley leaf.
True—and parfley'is one of the
fame tribe, and hemlock and others are
fometimes miftaken for it.
G. How curioufly the ftalk of this
hemlock is fpotted 1 .
^T. Yes. That is one of the marks
by which it is known. It is. alfo diflin-
guifhed by its peculiar fmell, and by
other circumftances which you can only
underftand when you have compared a
number of the tribe. I will now tell
you about lome others, the names of
which you are probably acquainted with.
In the firft place, there are carrots and
parfnips.
H. Carrots and parfnips!-—they are
not poifons, 1 am fure. ; .
' E 2 • G. I


7 6 EIGHTEENTH EVENING.
G. I remember, now, that carrots
have fuch a leaf as this.
T, They have. It is the roots - of
thefe, you know, that are eaten. But
we - eat the leaves of parfley and fennel,
which are of'the fame clafs. Celery is
another, the (talks of which are chiefly
ufed, made white by trenching up the"
earth .about them. The (talks of An
gelica are ufed differently.
H. I know how—candied.
2". Yes. Then there are many, of
which the feeds are ufed. There is car-
raway...
H. What, the feeds that are put in
cakes and comfits ?
’ T. Yes. They are warm and pun
gent to the tafte j and fo are the feeds
of many others • of the umbelliferous
plants, as coriander, fennel, wild carrot,
angelica, anife, cummin, and dill. All
thefe are employ : d in food or medicinej
and are good for warming or flrcngth-
ening the flomach.
G. Thofc


UMBELLIFEROUS. PLANTS.- JJ ■
: G. Thofe are pleafant medicines
enough. ' •
L 7. They are j but you-will .not fay ,
the fame of fome others/of the clafs,
which are noted medicines, too; fuch
as the plant yie-lding afafetida, and fe-
veral more;, from which what are'called
the fetid gums are.produced-.
G. Afafetida!-—that’s. nafty fluff,' I- 1
know j does it grow here ?
ST. No i and moft of the ftveet feeds.
I before mentioned come from abroad,
too. Now I will tell you of fome ©f
the poifons.
I-L Hemlock is one that we know
already. -
, ST. Yes. Then there is another kind
that grows in water,, and is more
poifonous,. called . Water-Hemlock.. ,
Another is a large, plant growing in
ditches, with leaves extremely like
celery, called. Hemlock-Dropwort.
Another, . common in drier fatuations,
and diftinguifhed' by leaves lefs di-
E 3 1 yided.


EIGHTEENTH- EVENING^ '
vided than moft of the clafs, is Cow-
Parfnep, or Madnep. Of fo me of
,thefe the leaves, of others the roots,
aremoft poifonous, Their effefts are
to make the head giddy, bring.on ftu- ;
. pidiiy or delirium, and caufe violent
ficknefs. The Athenians ufed to put,
criminals ’ to . death by making them
drink the juice of a kind of hemlock
growing in that-country, as you may
read in the life of that excellent philbfo-
pher'Socrates, who was killed in that
inanner. . : . ''' '.
H.i What was he killed for? ■
T. -Becaufe he was wifer and better
than his fellow citizens. Among us it
is only by accident that mifchief is done
by thefe plants. , I -remember a me- ^
iancholy inftance of a poor boy, who in
rambling about the fields with his little
brothers and lifters, chanced to Tneec
with a root of Hemlock-Dropwort. '
It looked fo white and nice, that he
was tempted to eat a good deal of it.


UMBELLIFEROUS PLANTS. 79
The other children alfo eat forne, but
not fo much. When they got home
they were all taken very ill. The
eldeft boy, who had eat moil, died in
great agony. The others recovered,
after fuffering a great deal.
G. Is there any way of preventing
their bad efifcdls ?
jT . The' bed way is to clear the flo-
mach as foon as poffible by a ftrong
vomit and large draughts of warm wa
ter. After that, vinegar is iifeful in,
removing the diforder of the head.
II. But are the roots Tweet or •
pleafant, that people fhould be tempted
to eat them?
T. Several of them are. There is a
, fmall plant of the tribe, the roo: of
which is much fought after by boy?,
who dig for it with their knives. J.t
is round, and called earth-nut, or pig
nut.
G. But that is not poifon, I fup-
pofe.
E 4 S'. No 5


8b - EIGHTEENTH' EVENING*
T. No; but it is not very wholefome.
I believe, howe-ver, that the roots of
the mod poifonous become innocent
by boiling. . I have heard that boiled
hemlpck roots are as good as carrots.
JI, I,think I fhfruld not like to eat
them, however. But pray why (hbuld
there be any poiTons at- all . ;
T. What we .call poifons are only
.'hurtful to particular animals.- They.
ai;e the proper : food of others, and rio
doubt do m<^e good than hurt in'the.
'/creation. Moft of'the> things that arc,
poifonous to us in large quantities, -are
ufeful medicines in fmall' ones i and we
have reafon beftowed upon . us, to guard
us againft- mifc’nief. Other animals in
general refufe by inftin£t what would
- prove hurtful to them. You fee : *
beneath yonder)hedge a great crop
of tall, fiourifhing plants with white
flowers. They are of the umbelliferous
family, and are called wild Cicely , or
Cowweed. The latter name is given
them^


UMBELLIFEROUS PLANT:?.;. vSj:
them, becaufe the cows will not touch
them, though, the- pafture , be. ever fa
bare.
B. Would they poifon them.??
c t. Perhaps they would; atleafi: theyv :
;'are not, proper food for them. We
will go and examine them, .and ..I will,
fhow you how' they. differ from hem
lock, for which they are fometimejs
miftaken..
G. I fhould like to get fome. of thefe
plants and dry them..
. X. You Ihall, .and. write, .down,the
names of them all, and.learn to know,
the innocent from the hurtful,
G. That vvill.be very, ufeful. ,
T. It will.. Remember now the gene
ral chara£ber of the. umbelliferous clafs.
The. flower- folks are divided, into
fpokes or umbels, which are again,
"divided into others,.each of. them ter
minated by a fmall five-leaved flower,,
having five chives and two piflils, fuc-
E'5 ceededi


82 EIGHTEENTH EVENING.'
ceeded by a twin feed. Their' leaves
are generally finely divided. You-will
foon know-them after having examined'
two or three of the tribe. Remember,
too, that they are a Jufpcious race , and
not to be made free with till you are
•well acquainted with them.
THE KI D.
One bleak day in March, Sylvia
returning from a vi'fit to the iheep-fold,
met with a younjg kidling deferted by its
dam on the naked heath. It was bleat
ing piteoufly, and was fo benumbed
with the cold, that it' could fcarcelyv
fiand. Sylvia took it'up in her arms,
and preffed it clofe to her bofom. - She
haflenedi home, and fhewirig her little
foundling to her parents, begged fhe
might rear it for her own." They con-
4 fentedj


' : THE KID. : ' 83
fen ted j and ’ 'Sylvia r im mediately got .a
‘bafket full of clean ftraw, and ma.de a-
. bedfor him'on th6 hearth. She warm
ed ' fome milk, and held ir to him.
'in-a’ platter. The poor creature drank
- it up eagerly, and then licked her hand
for more. Sylvia was delighted. She
chafed his, {lender legs with her warm
■ hands, and foon faw him jump out of
- his bafeet, and .frifk acrofs the room.
When full, he lay down again and took
' a comfortable nap. . - -
- The next day the kid had a name, be
llowed upon him. As he gave tokens
of being an excellent -jumper, it was
Cabriole. He was introduced to : all.
the reft of the family, and the younger
children were allowed to ftroke and pat
him; but Sylvia. would let .nobody be
intimate with him . but herfelf. ,The
great m aft iff was charged never to .hurt
him, and indeed he had no intention to
do it. ■ r
• E6 ; ' ; Within


84 - EIGHTEENTH EVENING..
Within a few ; days, Capriole folv
.lowed Sylvia all- about the houfe; trotted
by her fide into’the yard.; ran races with
her in the home field; fed out of her
hand ; and. was a declared pet, and fa
vourite. * As the fpring advanced, Sylvia
roamed in the fields and gathered wild
flowers'^ with which (lie wove'garlands,
and hung them around her kid’s neck.
He could not be kept, however, from
munching his , finery ■ when he could
reach it with his mouth. He was like-
wife rather, troublefome in thfufting his
nofe into the meal-tub and : ftour-box,
and followings people into the dairy, and
fipping the milk that was fet for cream.'
He now and then got a blow for his
' intrufion; but his .miftrefs' always took
his part, and indulged hini in every
liberty. • : - : ■-
Capriole 's horns now began to bud,
and a little white beard fprouted at
die end of his chin. He grew bold
enough to put.hirnfelf in a fighting pof-
" * ' • ' cure


THE JCID. 85 .
ture whenever he was offended. He
butted'down little Colin into the dirt 5
quarrelled with the gecfc for their allow
ance of corn; and held many a-flout
battle with the old turkey-cock. ( Every
body faid, Capriole, is growing tqtf fancy,
he mufl be fent away, or taught better
inanners. ■ But Sylvia {till Hood; his
friend, and he repaid her love with
■ many* tender careflfes.
The farm-houfe where Sylvia lived
was frtuated in a fweet valley, by the
"fide, of a clear flVeam, bordered with
. trees. - Above the houfe role a Hoping
meadow, and beyond that was an open
-common covered with purple ’heath
and yellow furze. Further on, at fome
1 ' didanee, rofe a fteep hill, the fummit of
which was a bare craggy rock, fcarcely
acceflible to human feet. C/ipiok 3
■ranging at his pleafure, often got upon
, - the common, and was pleafed with
browzing the lhort graJs and wild, herbs
. which grew there. Still, . however,
when


86 EIGHTEENTH 'EVENING..
when his'miftrefs came to feek Him, he
would run bounding at her call, and
.accompany her back to the'farm.
One. fine fummer’s day, Sylvia, after
having finifhed the bulinefs of the morn
ing, Vv'anted to play with her kid j and'
miffing him, ihe went to the fide of
the common,‘and called aloud Capriole !
Capriole I expc- fling to fee him come
running to her as ufual. No Capriole
came; She went on and on, ftill * call
ing her kid with the moft endearing ac
cents, but nothing was to be feen of
him. Her heart began to flutter. "What
can become of him ? Surely fomebody
muft have ftolen him,—or perhaps the
neighbour’s dogs have worriedhim. Oh
my poor Capriole ! * my dear Capriole!
I (hall never fee you again !—and Sylvia
began to weep.
She ftill went on, on, looking wifi- *
fully all around, and making the place
echo with Capricle , Capriole 1 where
are you, my Capriole ? till at length fhe
came


' THE KID. 87
came to the foot of the fteep hill. She
climbed up its fides'to.get a better view.
No kid was to be feen. She fat down,
and wept, and wrung her hands. After
a while, fhe fancied ihe heard a bleat
ing like the well-known voice of her
Capriole.- She ftarted up, and looked
towards the found, which' feemed a
great way over head. At length fhe
fpied, juft on the edge - of a fteep crag,
her Capriole peeping over. She ftretch-
ed out her hands to him, and began to
call, but with a timid voice, left in hrs
impatience to return to her, he fhould
leap down and break his neck. But there
was no fuch danger. Capriole was in-'
haling the frefh breeze of the mountains,,
and enjoying with rapture the fcenes
for which nature defigned him. His
bleating was the expreflion of joy, ari'd
he beftowed not a thought on his kind
miftrefs, nor paid the leaft attention to
her call. Sylvia afcended as high as fhe
. could, towards him, and called louder
, - • and


88
EIGHTEENTH 'EVENING.
and louder, but all in '' vain. • Capriok
leaped from rock to rock, cropt-the fine,
herbage in the''clefts, and. was qCiite
loft in the pleafure, of. his new- exig
ence.
■ Poor Sylvia ftaid till fhe was tired;,,
and then returned difconfolate to the
farm to relate her misfortune.. She. got ,
her brothers to accompany her back
to'the hill, and took with her a dice, of
.white bread, and fome milk, to tempt
the little .wanderer home. But he had
•mounted,{till.higher, 'and.had joined a
herd: of companions of the fame fpecies-,
•with whom he • was frilking and .fport-
ing.. He had neither, ey.es nor ears - for
his old friends of the vallej^ ' All former
:habits were broken.;at once, and. he.had
commenced free' c.orrfmoner . of nature.
Sylvia came back; crying as-much from,
vexation as forrow., * The little ungrate
ful thing ! (faid fhe)—fo -well as I Idved
him, and fo kindly as I treated him'j to
■ i - deffPt


HOW TO MAKE THE BITST OF IT. 8$
defert me in this way at laR.he
was always a rover!
Take care then, Sylvia , : (faid her
mother) how youfet your heart upon
rovers again! .
, , iirtcr*" : — v
HOW TO MAKE THE BEST OF IT.
' ‘ '
Robbiet 3 a peafant of Lorrafn,- after
a hard dety’s work at the next market-
town, was returning home with a bafket
in his hand. What a delicious fupper
Jfha^Il I haye ! (faid he to himfelf) This
piece of kid well ftewed down 3 .with my
onions diced, thickened widi my meal>
and feafoned -with my fait and pepper,
will make a difh fit for the bifhopof the
diocefe. Then I'have a good piece of
a barley loaf at home to finifh with.
How I long to be at it!
A noife in the hedge now attra6led
his notice, and he fpied a fquirrel nim
bly


9.0 EIGHTEENTH EVENING,
bly running up a tree, and .popping into
a hole between the, branches. Ha.!
(thought he) what a nice' prefent a
neft of young fquirrels will be to my
little matter ! I’ll try if I can get it.
Upon this, he fet down his bafket in
the road, -and began to ,climb up the.
tree. . He had. half.. afcended,- when
calling a look at' his bafket, he faw a
dog withjiis nofe in it, ferreting out the
piece of kid’s ftefb.- He made all pof-
fible fpeed down,; but the dog was too
.quick for him/ and ran off with the
meat in his mouth. . Rcbinet, looked
after him—Well, (faid he) then I muft
be content with fonp-meagre-— and no
bad thing neither ! "
He travelled on, and came to a
little public houfe by the road fide,
where an acquaintance of his was fitting'
on .a bench drinkings He invited Ro~-
binet to take a draught. Robinef. feared
himfelfby his friend, and fet his bafket
on the bench clofe by him. A tame
raven,


HOW TO MAKE THE BEST/OF IT. 9I
raven, which was-kept at. the houfe,
came flily behind him, and perching oh
the bafk^t, ftole away the bag in which
. the meal was tied up,' and hopped off-
with it to his hole. Robinet did'not per
ceive the theft till lie had got on his way
again. He returned to fearch for his
bag, but could hear no tidings of it.
Well, (fays he) my foup will be the
thinner, but I will boil a flice of bread
with it, and that will do it fome good
at lead. -
He went on again, and arrived at a'
little brook over which was laid a nar
row plank. A young woman coming
up to pafs at the fame time, Robinet gal
lantly offered her’ -his hand. As foon
as fhe was got to the middle, either
through fear or fport fhe fhrieked out,
and cried.fhe was failing. Robinet haft-,
ening to fupport her with his other hand*
let his bafket drop into, the ftream.
As foon as fhe was fafe* over, he jumped
in and recovered it, but when he took it
. ' ' - 'our 3 '


. $1 • ' EIGHTEENTH EVENING.
out, he perceived that all the fait was
melted, and the -pepper 'wafhed away*
Nothing was nov$ left but the onions. ■
Well! (fays Robinet) then I muft/up
to-night upon roafted onions and barley
breads Lad night I Had the bread^lone.
To-morrow morning it will not fignify
' what I had. So faying, he trudged orv
linging as before.
NINETEENTH,


C 93 )
NINETEENTH EVENING.
EYES, AND . NO EYES
' OR,
THE ART OF SEEING.' '
’Wz-'L'L, Robert, where have you been
walking this afternoon ? (faid Mr. An - •
drews to one of his pupils at the clofe of
a holiday.)
' R. I have been, Sir, to Broom-heath,
and fo round by the windmill.. upon
Camp-iripunt:, and, home through the
meadows by the river fide.^
' Mr. A.. 'Well, that’s a pleafant
’ round. -
R. I thought itv very dull, Sir 5 I
fcarcely met with a fingle perfon. I
had rather by half have gone along the
turnpike road. ,
: ' : . . Mr. A.


'94 NINETEENTH' EVENING.
Mr. A. Why, if feeing men and
horfes is your objedt, you would, indeed,
be better entertained on the high-road,.
But did you fee PFilliam ?
R. We fet .olit together, but he lag
ged behind in the lane, fo I walked on-
and- : left him.
Mr. A. That was -a pity. He would
have been company for you.
- R. O, he is fo tedious, always flop
ping to look at this thing and that! I
had rather walk alone. I dare fay he is
not gone home yet.
Mr. A. Here he eomes. Well, Wil
liam, where have you been ? - r
W. O, Sir, the pleafanteft walk ! I
went all over Broom-heath, and fo np
to the mill at the-top of the hill, and ^
:then down among the green meadows
by the fide of the iiver.
Mr. A. Why, that is juft the round
Robert has been taking, and he com
plains of its dullnefs, and prefers the
high-roac^ , • • ;
V ' ' . _ . W, I.


EYES AND NO EYES, &C. ££ ,
W. I wonder at that.' I am fure I
hardly took a ftep that did not delight
me, and I have brought my handker-%
chief full of curiofities home.
Mr. A. Suppofe, then, you give us
fome account of what amufed you fo
much. I fancy it will be as new to
Robert as to me.
W. I will, Sir. The lane leading
to the heath, you know, is clofe and
fandy, fo I did not mind it much, but
made the beft of my way. However,
I. fpied a curious thing enough in the
hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of
which grew a great bunch of fomething
green, ^uite different from the tree ’it-
felf. Here is a branch of it.
Mr. A. Ah ! this is Miffeltoe, a
plant of great fame for the ufe made
■of it by the Druids of old in their re
ligious rites and incantations. It bears
a very flimy white berry, of-which bird
lime may be made, whence its Latin
•name of Fifcus. It is : one of thofe plants
which


NINETEENTH EVENING.;
»which do not grow in the ground.by a
root, of their own 3 ' but fix themfelves
upon other plants; whence they have
been humoroufly ftyled /parafiticaU as
being • hangers.-on, or 'dependants. 1 ^It
was. the • miffeltoe of. the .oak that th'e
Druids particularly honoured.
W. A little further on I faw a green
woodpecker- fly to a tree, and run up 1
the trunk like a, cat; . ,
;• Mr. A. That was to feek for infecls
in the bark, on which they live. They
bore holes with thei-r-ftrong bills for that
purpofe 3 and do, much damage to. the
trees by it. • . . ,■ ,
W, What beautiful birds they are !
Mr. A. .Yes ;• they-have been called,
from thtir colour and fizCj the EngliOi
parrot.. . . (
, W. When I got upon the open heath,
how charming: it was! j The air feemed
fo frefh, ,and the. pjoipeft on every
fide fo free and unbounded! Then it
was' all - covered with, gay. flowers,
. many


' , x EYE'S, AND NO EYESj &C., 97
,• many of w hich 1 had never obferved
bdfore. There were at leaft three kinds '
of heath ( I have, got them in my hand
kerchief here), and gorfe, and broom,,
and bell -flower, and many others of all n
. colours, that I will beg. you prefendy
to tell me the;names of.
•Mr. A That I will readily.• ; .
:W; I faw, too, feveral birds that -
were' new> to me. There was a pretty
greyith one* of the fize of a lark, that ■
was hopping about Tome great ftones ; '
•aind ^wh^n he flew he fliowed a grea i t '
deal of white above his tail. ' • ;
' Mr,. A. That was a wheat-ear. - They -' •
are reckoned very delicious birds to eat* •
and frequent the open downs in ■ SufTex, ’
and fome .odier counties, in great num- -
bers. ,
W, There was a flock of lapwings
upon a marfhy part of the heath, that,
amufed me much. As I came near
them, fome of them kept flying round •
and roundjuft over my head, and crying
Vol. IV. - F pewet


9$ NINETEENTH EVENING. :
pwet {6 diftiridtlyy one might almoft
fancy they fpoke. I thought I fliould
have caught one of them, for he flew as
if one of his wings was broken, and
often tumbled clofe to the ground ; but ,
as I came near, he -always macle a fhift
to get away.
Mr. A, Ha/- ha! you were finely
taken in then ! This was all an artifice
of the bird’s to entice you away from
its neft: for they build upon the bare
ground, and their nefts would eafily . be
obferved, did not they draw off the at
tention of intruders by their loud cries
and counterfeit lamenefs.
W. I wilh I had known that, for he
led me a long chafe, often over ilioes
in water. However, it was the caufe of
my falling in with an old man and a bov
who were cutting and piling up turf for
fewel, and I had a good deal of talk
with them abqut the manner of prepar-
> ing the turf, and the price it fells at. ,
They .gave me, too} a creature I never
faw


EYES, AND NO EYES, &C. 9} ,
faw before—a young viper, which they
had juft killed, together with its dam.
I have feen feveral common fnakes,
but this is thicker in proportion, and of
a darker colour than they are.
Mr. J. True. Vipers frequent thofc
turfy boggy grounds pretty much,; and
I have known feveral turf-eutters bitten
by them.
W* They are very venomous, arc
they not ?
Mr. A* Enough fo to make their
wounds painful and dangerous, though
they feldom prove 1 fatal.
W, Well—I then took-my courle
up to the windmill on the mount. I
climbed up the fteps of the. mill in or
der to get a better view of the country
round. What an extenfive prolpedb!
I counted fifteen church-fteeples s and
I faw feveral gentlemen’s houfes peep
ing out from the midft of green woods -
and plantations ; and I could trace the
windings of the river all along the low
F 2 grounds],


/ IOO NINETEENTH EVENING.
grounds, till it-was loft behind abridge o f
hills. 'BunTH tell you what I .mean
to do, Sir, if you will give me leave.
Mr. A. What'is that ?
JV. I will go again, and take with me
, Carey’s county map, by which 1- fhall
probably be able to make out moft of
the places." .. .. y
Mr. A. You fhall have it, and I will
go with you, and take my pocket', fpy-
ing glafs.
JV. I- (hall be very glad of that. ,
Well-—a'.thought fcruck me, that as -
the hill is called Camp-mount , there might;
- probably be fome remains of ditches and
mounds with which I have read that .
camps were furrounded. And I really :
believe I difcovered fomething of that
fort running found one. fide of the.
mount. .. 7
Mr. A. Very likely you might. I
know antiquaries have defcribed fuch
remains as exifring there, which fome
fuppofe to be Roman, others D'anifb. ,
; ’ '■ -f/- ' We .


, /■ EYES, AND NO EYES, ;&C.. IOI
■We will examine them. further when
we go.'
W. Frdm the hill I went ftraight
down to the meadow^below, and walk
ed on the fide of a brook that runs into,
the river! It was all bordered with
reeds and flags and tall flowering plants,
quite different from thofel had feen on-
the heath. As I/was getting down the
bank to reach- one of therb, I heard
fomething plunge into the water near
me. _ It was a large water-rat, and I faw
it fwim over to the other fide^ and go
into its hole." There were a great many
large dragon-flies all about the ftream.
, I caught one of the fineft, arid have got
him here in a leaf. But how. I longed
to catch a bird that I faw hovering over
the water, and every now and then
darting down into it! It was all over
a. mixture of the moll beautiful •green,
and blue with fome orange colour.
It was fomewhat lefs than ' a .thrufh, ■
, F 3 .. ' and


102 NINETEENTH EVENING.
and had.a- large jiead and bill, and a
ihort tail. . .
Mr. A. I can tell you what that bird
was—a king'fifher, the celebrated hal
cyon- of the ancients, about which fo
many tales are- told. It lives on fifh,
which it catches in the manner you faw.
It builds in holes in the banks, and is
a jfhy retired bird, never to be feen far
from the ftream where it ifihabits.
W. I muft try to get another fight of
himj for rnever faw a bird that'pleafed
me fo much. Well—I followed this
little brook till it entered the river, and
then tfook the path that runs along the
bank. On the oppofite fide I obferved
feveral little birds running along the
fhore^ and making a piping noife. They
were brown and white,-and about as big
as a fnipe.
Mr. A. I fuppofe they were land
pipers, one of the numerous family of
birds that get their living by wading
• among


EYES, AND NO EYES, &C. 10J
among the (hallows, and picking up
worms and infedls.
. W. There were a great many fwal-
lows, too, fporting upon the furface of
the water, that entertained me with their
motions. Sometimes they dafhed into
the ftream; fometimes they purfued one
another fo quick, that the eye could
.fcarcely follow them. In one place,
where a high fteep fand-barik rofe di-
re6tly above the river, I obferved'many
,of them go in and out of.holes with,
which the'bank was bored full.
Mr. A. Thofe were fand-martins,
the fmalleft of our four fpecies of fwal-
lows. They are of a moufe-colour
above, and white beneath. They make
their nefts and bring up their young in
thefe holes, which run a great depth,
and by their Situation are fecure from
all plunderers.
W. A little further I faw a man in a
boat, who was catching eels in an-
odd way. He had a long pole with
' . F 4 broad


104 ' NINETEENTH EVENING.
'broad iron prongs at the end, ; juft like
Neptune’s trident, pnly there were live
inftead of three. This he puflhed ftraight
down among the mud in the deepeft
parts of the river, and fetched up the eels
lticking between the’prongs.-
Mr. A. - I have feen this method. It
is called fpearing of eels. . - ‘
W, While 1 was looking at him, a
heron - came flying over my head,'with
his large flagging wings. He lit at the
next turn of the river, and I cirept foftly
behind the bank to watch his mbtions.
He had waded ir^to the water as, far. as
r his long legs would carry him, and was
ftanding with his neck drawn in, look
ing intently on the ftream. Prefently he
darted /his long bill as quick as lightning
into the water, and drew out a filh 5
which he fwallowed. I faw him catch
another in the fame manner. He then'
took alarm at fome noife I made, and ,
Hew away flowly; to a wood at fome-dis
tance, where he fettled 0 '
Mr..


EYES,'AND NO" EYES, &C.' 10£
. Mr. i Probably his neft w^s there,
for herons, biiild upon the loftieft trees
they can find, and fometirnes in fociety
together like rooks'. Formerly, when'
thefe birds \were valued for the amufe-'
ment of hawking, many gentlemen
had their heronries , and a few are ftiil
remaining.-/
JV. I think they are the largeft wild
birds we have. . ■ - ..
Mr. A. ,They are of a great length
and fpread ,of wing, but their .bodies
'are comparatively fmall.
JV. I then turned - homeward acrofs
the rfieadows, \vhere I ftopt awhile to
look at a large .flock of ftarlings which
kept flying about at no; grea't diftance.
I could not tell at firft what to make of
them'; for. they rofe -all’ together from
the ground as thick as a fwarm of
bees, and formed themfelves into a
kind of black cloud .hovering over the
field. After taking a fnort round, they
fettled again, and prefently rofe again '
. • F 5 in


Io6 NINETEENTH ^EVENING.
in-the fame manner. I dare fay there
were hundreds of them. x
Mr. A." Perhaps fo j for in the fenny
countries their flocks are fo numerous,
as to break down whole acres of reeds
by fettling on them. This difpofition
of -ftarlings to fly in clofe fwarms
was remarked even by Homer, who
compares the foe flying from one of his
heroes, to a cloud .o f flares retiring dif-
mayed at- the approach of the hawk.
W. After I'had left the meadows, I
crofTed the.corn-fields in the way to our
houfe, and palled clofe-by a deep marie
pit. Looking into it, I faw in one of
the fides a clufter of what I took to be
fhells j and upon going down, I picked
up 2 clod of marie, which was'cjuite full
of them; but how fea jfhells could get
there s I cannot imagine.
Mr. A. I do riot wonder at your
furprife, fince many philofophers -have
been much perplexed to account for the
fame appearance. It is nos uncommon
to


" EYES, 'AND NO EYES, &C. 10'/
to find great quantities of fhells and re-,
lies of marine animals even in die bow
els of high mountains, very remote from
the fea. They are certainly proofs that
the earth'was once in a very different
ftate from what it,is at prefent j but in
what manner and how long ago thefe
changes took place, can only be gueff-
ed at.
W. I got to the high field next our
houfe juft as the fun was fetting, and I
ftood looking at it till it was quite loft.
What a glorious fight! The clouds were
tinged purple and crimfon and yellow of
all, fhades and hues, and the clear Iky
varied from blue to a fine green at the
Horizon. But how large the fun ap
pears juft as it fets! I think it feems
twice as big as when it is over head.
Mr. A. It does fo; and you may
probably have obferved the fame atp-
' parent enlargement of the moon at its
fifing.
F 6 IK I


108 NINETEENTH EVENING.
W . I have; but pray what is the rea-
fon of this ?
Mr. A. It is an optical deception,
depending upon principles which I can
not well explain to you till you know
more of that branch of fcience. But what
a number of new ideas this afternoon’s,
walk has afforded you ? I do not won
der that you found it amufing; it. has
been very inftru&ive too. Did you fee
nothing of all thefe fights, Robert ? - ,
R. I faw fome of them, but I'did not
take particular notice, of them.
Mr. A. Why not ?
R. I don’t, know. ~I did not care
about them, and I made the beft of my
way home.
Mr. A./ That would have been'tight
if you had beenfent of a meffage j but as
you only walked for amufement, it would
have been wifer to have fought out as
many fources of it as poffible. /But fo
it Is—one man. walks though the world


EYES, AND NO EYES, &C. ^109/
with his eyes open, and another with
them (hut; and upon this difference de
pends all the fuperiority of knowledge
the one acquires, above the other. I '
have known failors, who had been in all
the quarters of the world, and could tell
you nothing but the figns of the tippling-
houfes they frequented in different;ports, .
and the price and quality of the liquor.
On the other hand, a Franklin could
not crofs the channel without making;
Tome obfervations ufeful to mankind.
While many a vacant thoughtlefs youth
is whirled throughout Europe without
gaining a fingle idea worth croffing a
ftreet for, the obferving eye and inquir
ing mind finds matter of improvement
and delight in every ramble in town or
country. Do you then, William , con
tinue to make ufe of your eyes; and you, '
Robert , learn that eyes were given you
to ufe* •
"WHY


( no }
WHY THE EARTH MOVES ROUND
. THE'SUN.
Papa—Lticy.
P. You remember, Lucy, that I
explained.to you fome time ago what
was the caufe that things l fell to the
ground. , \ ^
L. O yes—It was becaufe the ground
drew them to it. \
P. True. That is a confequence of
the univerfal law in nature, that bodies
attract each ‘other in proportion i to
their bulk. So a very fmall thing in
the neighbourhood of a yery large one*
always tends to go to it, if not pre
vented by fome other power. Well—
You know I told you that the' fun was
a ball a vaftmany times bigger than the
ball we inhabit, called the earth j upon
which you properly afked, how then it
.happened


EARTH 'AND SUN. Ill
happened that the earth did not fall .into
the fun.
L. And why does it'does not ? -
P. That I am going to explain to
you. You have feen your brother
whirl round- an ivory ball tied to
the end ofaftring which he held in his
. hand.
L. Yes—And I have done it myfelf*
too.
P. Well then—you felt that the. ball
was continually pulling,, as if it tried to
make its efcape. -
L. Yes ; and one my brother was
fwinging did make its efcape, and flew
through the fa IK
P. It did fo. That was a leffon in
the centrifugal motion, or that power
by which a body thus whirled continually
endeavours to fly off from the centre
round which it moves. This is owing
to the force or impulfe'you give it at
fet-ting out, as if you were going to
throw it away from you. The firing


112 NINETEENTH EVENING'.
by which you hold it, on the contrary,,
is the power which keeps the ball to
wards the centre, called the centripetal
power. Thus you fee there are. two
powers ading upon the ball at the fame
time; one to make it fly off, the other
to hold it in ; and the confequence/is,
that it moves dire£tly according to
neither, but between both; that is,
round and round. This it continues,
to do while you fwing it properly ;
but if the firing breaks or flips, off,:
away flies the ball; on the other hand,,
if you ceafe to. give it the whirling
force, it falls, towards your hand.
L. I uriderfland all thisl. -
( P. I will give you another'inftance'
of this double force ading at the fame,
time. Do not you remember feeing 1
fome curious feats of horfemanihip ? , ;
L.' Yes. - : • j ■ .
. P. One of them was, that , a man.
Handing with one leg upon the faddle
and riding full fpeed,. threw up 7 balls


. EARTH AND SUN.' ’ I ^3
into the air, and catched them as they \
fell. ° ■ ' ' ' . . '
L. I remember it very well.
. P. Perhaps you would have expe&ed
thefe balls to have fallen behind him, as
he was going at fuch a' rate.
L. So I did.'
P. But you faw that they fell into his
hand as diredly as if he had been
{landing quite (till. That was becaufe
at the inftant he threw them, up, they
received the moti®n of the horfe ftraight
forwards, as well as the upright mo
tion that he gave them, fo that they
made a flanting line through the air,
and-came down in the fame place they
would have reached if he had held them
in his hand all the while. '
L. That is very curious indeed !
P. In the lame manner, you may
have obferved, in riding in a carriage,
that if you throw any thing ourof the
window, it falls diredlly-oppofite, juft
as


114 .'nineteenth evening .
as if-the carriage was (landing ftill, and
is not-left behind you.
L. I will try that the next time I
ride in one.
P. Yoii are'then to imagine the fun
to be a mighty mafs of matter, many
thoufand times bigger than our earth,
placed in the centre, quiet and unmoved.
You are to conceive our earth, as foon
as created, launched with vaft force in
a (traight lbe, as if it were a bowl on
a green. " It' would have .flown off in
this line for ever, through the boundlefs
regions of fpace, had it not at the
fame inftant received a pull from the
fun by its attra&’ion. By the wonder-
full fldll of the Creator, thefe two forces
were made exactly to counterbalance
each other ; fo that juft as much as the
earth from the original motion given
it tends to fly forwards, juft fo much
the fun draws it to the centre ; and the
onfequence is, that it takes a courfe
between


' , , EARTH AND SUN. ir£
between the two, which is a circle round
- and round the fun.
L. But if the earth was feta rolling
like a bowl upon a green, I fhould
think it would flop of itfelf, as the
bowl does.
P. The bowl flops becaufe , it ;is
continually rubbing againft the ground,
which checks its motion; but the ball
of the earth moves in empty fpace*
.where there is nothing to ftop it.
L. But if I throw a~ ball-through
' the air, it will not go on for ever,' but
it will come down to the. ground.
P. That is becaufe the force with
which you can throw it is much lefs than
the force ’ by which it is drawn to the
earth. But there is another reafon too,
which is the refiftance of the air. This,
fpace all around us and over us is not
[ empty fpace ; it is quite full' of a thin
tranfparent fluid called air.
L. Is it? -
\ ' P. Yes.


r - P ’
.I,'1.6 NINETEENTH EVENING.
P.' Yes. If . you movd your hand
quickly through it, you will find fo'tne-
■ ..thing- refilling you, though in a flight
degree: And' the wind, you well know,
.is capable of preffing againft any' thing
with almoft irrefiftible force ; and yet
-wind is nothing but a' quantity of air put
into violent) motion. Every thing then
that moves through the air, is continually'
obliged to pu(h fome of this fluid out
■ of the way, by which means it is con-
ftandy lofing part of its motion.
L. Then the. earth would do the
lame. - ' - ■
/ P. No; for it moves in empty
jpace. . ‘ - . .
L. What! does not it move through
the air. , ' ;
P .' The earth does not move through
the air, but carries the air along with it.
All the air is contained, in what is called
the atmofyhere-t which' you may 'com
pare to a kind, of mift or fog clinging
.all roun4 to the ball of ,the earth, and
reaching


EARTH AND SUM. ' 1 1'J
reaching a certain diftance above it,
which has been calculated at about forty-
five miles' ,
That is above the clouds, then.
P t Yes; all the clouds are within"
the atmofphere, for they are fuppolted
by the air. W?ll— this atmofphere rolls
about along with the. earthy as if it were
a:pait of it, and moves with it through'
. the iky, which is a vaft field of empty '■
fpace. I it this immenfe fpace are all ,
the ftars and. planets, which have alfo
their feveral motion 0 . . There is no
thing to flop them, but they continually
/ go on, by means of the force that the
Creator has originally impreffed upon
them. • , ‘ ■
L. Do not.fome of the ftars move
round the fun, as well as our earth.
P. Yes thofe that are called planets.
Thefe are all fubjed to the fame laws
of motion with our earth. They are
attracted by the fun as their centre, and
form, along with the earth, that aiTem-
blage


I I 8 NINETEENTH EVENING.
bJage of worlds, which is called the
Jolar Jyficrn:
L. Is the moon one of them ?
P. The moon is called a Jecondary,
planet, becaufe its immediate connexion
is with our'earth, round which it rolls,
as we do round the fun., It however
accompanies our earth in its journey
round die fun. But I will tell you more
about its motion, and about the other
planets and ftars, another time. It is
enough at prefent, if you thoroughly
underftand what I have been de-
fcribing. "
L. I think I do.
difference


( 1 *9 )
DIFFERENCE AND AGREEMENT;
OR, , .
SUNDAY. MORNING. ,
It was Sunday morning. All die"
bells were ringing for- church, and the
ftreets were filled with people moving
in all dire£tions.
Here, numbers of well-drelTed per
sons, and a long train of charity chil
dren, were thronging in at the wide
doors of a- large handfome church.
There, a fmaller number, almoft equally '
, gay- in drefs, were entering an elegant
meeting-houfe. Up one alley, a Roman
Catholic congregation was turning into
their retired chapel, every one crofling
himfelf with a finger dipt in holy-water
• as he went in. The oppofite fide of the
ilreet was covered with a train of
quakers, diftinguifhed by their plain and
8 neat


l '* 120,. NINETEENTH EVENING - .
neat attire, and fedate afpe£t, who walk
ed without ceremony into a room as plain
as themfelves, and to.ok their feats, the
men on one fide and the women on the
other,-in filence. A fpacious building
. was filled-with an overflowing cro ( wd of
Methodifis, moft of them meanly ha
bited, but' decent and ftrious in de
meanour ; while a fmall fociety of B&j>- •
tills in the neighbourhood quietly occu
pied their humble-place of affembly.
Prefently the different fervices Be
gan. The churches refounded with the
folemn organ, * and' with the indiftinft
murmurs of a large body of people
following the minifter in refponfive pray-*
. ers. , From the meeting's were heard
the flow, pfalm, and the fingle voice of'
the leader of their devotions. The
Roman Catholic chapel was enlivened :
. by ftrains .of mufic, the tinkling -of a
fmall bell, and a perpetual change of
fervice and ceremonial. A profound
filence and unvarying look and pofture
9 announced


' , SUNDAY MORMiNG. ' 1JI
announced the 'felf-recolleflion and'
mental devotion, of the Quakers. -
/. Mr. 'Ambroje led his fon Edwin round " -
all theie different affemblies as a fpe£ta-
tor. Edwin vieWed every thing with
great attention, and was often impa^
tient to inquire of his father the mean
ing of what he faw ; but Mr; Ambrofe -
would not fuffer- him to difturb any of
the congregations even by a-; whifper.
When they had gone through the whole,
Edwin, found a great number ofquellions >
to put to his father, who explained every
thing, to him -in the belt manner he
could. At length fays Edwin ,
: But why cannot all thefe people agree
to'go tc> the fame r place, and worlhip •
God the fame way ?
, And why fhould they agree ? (-re
plied. his father.) ' Do not yt>u fee that
people differ in a hundred other things ?
'Do they all drefs alike, and eat and .
drink alike, and keep the fame hours*
and ufe the fame diverfions ?
Vol. IV. . G A7— .


12 2 NINETEENTH EVENING.
. Ay—but thofe are things in which
they have a right to do as they pleafe.
And they have a right, too, to-wor-
fhip God as they pleafe. It is dieir
own bufinefs, and concerns none but
themfelves. r .
But has not God ordered particular
ways of worfhipping him ?
He has direded the mind and fpirit
with which he is to be worfhipped, but.
riot the particular form • and manner.
That is left for every one to choofe, ac
cording as fuits his temper.and opinions.
All thefe people like their own way
beft, and why (hould they leave it for
the choice of another ? .Religion is one
,of the things in which mankind 'were'
. made to differ. _ , :
The feveral congregations now.began
to be difmiffed, and the ftreet was again
overfpread with perfons of all the dif
ferent feds, going promifcuoufly to
1 their refpedive homes.. It chanced ,
that a poor man fell down in the ftreet


SUNDA Y MORNING, * 2J
in a fit of apoplexy, and lay for,dead.
His wife and children ftoocl round him
crying and lamenting in the .bitterefl
diftrefs. The beholders immediately
flocked round, and, with looks and ex-
preffions of the warmeft companion,
gave their help. A Churchman raifed
the man from thfe ground by lifting him
under the arms, while a Diffenter held
his head and wiped his face with 'his
handkerchief. A Roman Catholic lady
topic out her fmelling bottle, and affi-
duoufly applied it to his nofe; A Me-
thodifl: ran for a do<5tor. A Quaker
fupported and comforted the woman,'
anci a Baptift took care of the children.
Edwin ahd his father \yere among the
ipe&ators. Here (faid Mr. Ambroje)
is a thing in which mankind'were made
to agree,, â– "
TWENTIETH


( 124 )
TWENTIETH EVENING.
ON METALS.,
PART 2;
Tutor — George — Harry.
Well— have you forgot- what I
\told you about metals the other day ? /
G. O no!
' H. I'am fure I have not.
What metals were they that .we';
talked about ?
G. Gold, filver, and quickfilver.
2". Suppofe, then, we go on to‘the
reft! ;
G. Pray do.
E Yes, by all means.
- ' f» Very


ON METALS. 12 $
T\ Very well. You know coppcr, I
don’t doubt. ■ -
G. O yes!
T. What colour do you call it? ‘
G. I think it is a fort of reddifh
brown.
T. True. , Sometimes, however, it
is of a bright red, like fealing-wax.
It is not a very heavy metal, being
not quite nine times the weight of
water. It is pretty du£tile, bearing to
•be rolled or hammered out to a very
thin plate, and alfo to be drawn out to a
fine wire.
H\ I remember feeing a halfpenny
that had- been rolled out to a long
ribbon.
G. Yes, and I, have feen half a dozen
men at a time with great hammers beat
ing out a piece of copper at the bra-,
zier’s
< T. Copper requires a very confider-
able heat to melt it; and by long ex-
pofure to the fire, it may be burned
G 3 or


12 ,6 TWENTIETH/EVENING. ' -
or calcined j for it,,'.like, all we are now
to fpeak of, is an ihyperfeU metal.- ■ '
'.H. And it rufts very eafily, . does it
not? . • , • •
... ST. It does j for all acids difTolve ; or
eorrode it, To do falts of every kind j
whence even air and common water in a
fhort time a 61 upon v it, for they , are
never free from fomewhat of a fa-line
nature. ■
G. Is not verdegris. the ruft of
copper ? ' ; ' :
S’. It is5—a ruft produced by > the’
acid of grapes. • But every ruft-of cop
per is of a blue or green colour, as well
as verdegris. . ,
H. And are they all poifon too.?. s.
; .2°.' They are all fo in fome degree,
producing violent 1 ficknefs and pain in
\;the bowels. They are all, too, ex
tremely riaufeous to the tafte; andjtlie
metal itfelf, when. heated_, taftes ;and
fmells very difagreeably. 1 i
, . / - . . ■ ’ . G- Why


Ott METALS,' I ij
G. Why is it u'fed, then. To much in
cooking, and brewing, and the like ?
T. Becanie it is a very convenient'
metal for making veflels, efpecially large
ones, as it is eafily worked, and is
fufficiently ilrong though hammered
thin, and bears the fire well. And if
veflels of it are kept quite clean, and
the liquor not fufFered to (land long in
them when cold, there is no danger in
their ufe. But copper vefiels for cook
ing are generally lined on the infide
with tin.
Gl What elfe is copper ufed for ?
c t. A variety of things. Sheets of
copper are fometimes ufed to cover
buildings; and of Lite a great quantity
is confumed in flieathing (hips, that ir,
in covering all the .part under water 5
•the purpofe of which is to protect the
timber from the worms, and alfo to
make the {hip fail fafter, by means of
the greater fmoothnefs and force with
G 4 which


228 TWENTIETH '‘EVENING.
which the copper makes way through
the water.
H\ Money is made of copper, too.
T. It is _y for it takes an impreffion
in coining very well, and its-value is
a proper proportion below filver for a
•price for the cheapeft fort of commo
dities. In fome poor countries they
have little other than copper coin, -
Another great ufe of copper is as an
ingredient in mixed metals, fuch as belU
metal, cannon-metal, and particularly'
brafs.
U. But brafs is yellow.
< T. True; it is converted to that co
lour by means of another metallic fubr-
ftance named zinc, or Jplter , the natu-r
ral colour of which is white. A kind.
of brown ilone called calaniine is an ore
of zinc. By filling a pot with layers
of powdered calamine and charcoal
placed alternately with copper, and ap
plying a pretty ftrong heat,, the zinc
is driven in vapour out of the calamine,
- . : . and


; - . -ON METALS^'' 12€f-'
and penetrates the; copper,; changing it
into brafs. . ’ ’
G. What is the ufe of turning copper x
into-brafs ? ’
2V 11 gains a . fine gold-like .colourj.
.and becomes harder, more eafy to mek 5
and Jefsrliable to ruft. Hence it is pre
ferred for a' variety of. utenfiis, orria-
mental.and-ufeful, ' Brafs does not bear
hammering well) but is generally caft
into,the fhape wanted,' and then turned'
in a Jathe ana polifhed.. Well—-thefe
are the principal things I have to. fay
about copper. .
1 H. But where does it come from ? .
. 2V Copper is found in many countries. -
Our ifland yields abundance^ efpecially
m Wales andrCornvvall. In Anglefey-
is . a whole hill r called Paris-mountain^,
eonfifting of copper ore, from which. •
immenfe quantities are dug every year.: .
Now for iron..
H. Ay ! that is the moil ufeful of alt
the metals. . ■ -
'! - . G: 5 ■ v :rJt


I JO TWENTIETH EVENING.
%• I think it is; and it is s likewise
the moft common, for there, are few;,
countfies in the world pofTeffing hills and-
rocks where it-is not met with, more
or iels. Iron is the hardeft of metals,
the moft' elaftic or fpringy, the moft
tenacious or difficult to break, next to
gold, the , moft difficultly fufible, and
one of the lighteft, being only, feyen or
eight; times heavier than water. -
'' G :~ You fay it is difficult' to break ;
C'feut I fnapt the blade of a penknife the
other day by only bending it a little;
and my mother is continually breaking -
her needles. .
21 Properly obje£ted ! But the qua
lities of iron differ extremely according .
to >the method of preparing it. There
iare forged iron, caft iron, and jfteel,
which are very different from each other.
Iron, when firft melted from its ore, has
little malleability, and the vefiels and
other implements that are made of it
in that ftate by calling into> moulds,' ; aife
§ - : eafily


ON- METALS. .131
• eafily broken. It' acquires toughnefs
and' malleability by forging, which is
done by i beating it when red hot with
heavy hammers, till it becomes duflile
and flexible. ' Steel, again, is ipade by
heating fmall bars of iron with wood-
afhes, charcoal, bone and horn (-havings*
or other inflammable matters, by which,
it acquires a. finer grain and more; com
pact texture, and becomes harderKand
more elailic. 1 Steel may be Render
ed; eithehtiveryl flexible, or brittle 1 , by
different mannei s of tempering , .which
1 performed by heating -and then
quenching it in water. Steel is iroft
m its more'perfe<5t ftate. - * . '
G: Ail cutting inftruments are made
of Reel, are they not?
c t. Yes; and'the-very fine edged
ones are generally tempered brittle^ as
Razors, penknives, and furgeon’s inflru-
, ments; but fword-blades are made flexj-
ible, and; the beft of them will bend *
double without; breaking or, becoming
G 6 crooked.


232 TWENTIETH" EVENING.
crooked. The fleel of which fprings
are made, have the higheft poflible-de
gree of elasticity given them. A watch- •
•fpring is one of the moft perfe6t ex
amples of this kind. Steel for or
naments is made extremely hard and
clofe-grained, fo as to bear an exquifite
polifri. Common hammered ir.on. is
chiefiy nfed for works of ftrength,- as
horfe-Hides, bars, bolts, and the like.
It will bend'but not ftraighten itfelf
again, as you may fee in the kitchen
poker. • Caft iron is ufed for pots and
cauldrons, cannons, cannon-balls,grates^
pillars, and many other purpofes in
which hardnefs -without flexibility is
•wanted. . <
G. What a vail variety of, ufes this
metal is put ^to !
Yes j I know not when I fhould
have done, if I were to tell you of all.
H. Then -I t]iink it is really more
valuable than gold, though it is fo;much
cheaper. - '■-■■■■
V . 4 .. / ■ T : That.'


ON. METALS. I 33
. 7". ;That was the opinion of the; wife
Solon, when he obferved to the rich
king CroefiiSj who was fhewing hirn his
treafures, “ he who poffeffes more iron
will fqon be mafter of all this gold. 55
H. I fuppofe he meant weapons and
armour. •
T. He. did; but there, are many
nobler ufes of this metal; and few cii>
ciimftances denote the progrefs of the
arts in a country„more than having at-,
tained the full ufe of iron,- ; without
which fcarceJy any manufacture or ma
chinery can be brought to perfection.
From the diffieulty of melting it' oiit of
the ore, many nations have been -longer
in difcovering it than fome of the other
• metals. The Greeks in Homer’s time
feem to have employed copper or brafs
for their weapons much more than iron,';
and the' Mexicans and Peruvians, who
poffeffed^ gold and filver, were , unac
quainted with iron when: the Spaniards
invaded them ♦ ,
G', Iron .


134 TWENTIETH EVENING.'
■ G.''Iron is veryfubjedt toiruftyhow-
.1 CVei*. ■
• .2- It is fo, and that is one of its
worft properties, Every, liquor, and
even a moift air, corrodes it. But the
ruft of iron is not pernicious ; on the
contrary it is a very ufeful medicine. .
.; G. I have heard of fteel drops and
Heel filings given for medicines.; ?
T Yes iron is given in a ..variety
of forms and the property ; of them all
is to ftrengthen the conftitution. • ■■ Many'
iprings are made .medieinalLby,* the.iron
that they diffolve in the bowels-^qf th£
earth/ . Thefe are*; called ^chalybeate wa
ters, and they may be known by their
inky tafte, and the ruft-coloured fedi«
ment they leave in their courfe.
; H. May we drink fuch water if we
meet with it ? : ’
k • ■T’.r' Yesi it will do you no harm, ; at
leafb. There is one other property ( ; pf
iron well worth, knowing, and that is,
that


ON METALS. 135
that it is the only thing attra£ted_by the
magnet or loadftone. .
G, -I"-had a■ magnet' once chat' would
take up needle's and keys : but it feem- -
ed a bar of iron itfelf. '
'■ T*. True. The real loadftone, which
is a- f particular',ore of iron, can com
municate its virtue to a piece of iron
by rubbing itp nay, a bar of iron itfelf
in -length of-‘time, by being placed in
a particular pofition, • will acquire the
fame property.
■ G. -Is all-the iron ufed in'England*
produced : here ?/:
• ^ --By-'no; means.' Our - extenfive
manufaftures require a great importa
tion of iron.' ; Much is brought from
Norway, Ruffia, and Sweden; and the
Swedifh is reckoned particularly ex
cellent. Well—now to another metal.
I dare fay you can tell m a good deal
about lead. - ' .
■■■ --J.:. : H. I


J36 TWENTIETH EVENING.'
H. I know feveral things-about
It is very, heavy and foft,; and eafily
melted. •. .
T. Truej thofe are fome of its dif^
tinguifhing. properties. Its weight is
between eleven and twelve times, that
of water. Its colour is a dull bluifh
white and fro(n'this livid hue, as.well
as its being • totally void of fpring or
elafticity, it has acquired a fort of cha-,
rafter of dulnefs and fluggifhnefs.
•Thus we fay of a ftupid man, that-he
- has a leaden difpofition'. . .
G. . Lead is vqry malleable, I think-. :
T. Yes j it may be beat out into a.
, pretty thin leaf, but it will not bear
' drawing into fine wire. It is not only
-very fufible, but very readily calcined■
by heati changing into a powder^ ora
fcaly matter,, which may be made to
take all colours by the. fire, from yellow
to deep red. You have feen red lead £ ■ -
‘ ' Yes.. - : ■ _
, : . . r. That


ON METALS. I37
'■T. That Is calcined lead expcfed for
a confiderable time to a ftrong flame.
Lead may even .be changed into glafs
by a moderate heat ; and there is a
good deal^ of it in our fineft glafs.
' G. What is white lead ?
T, It is lead corroded by the fleam of
, vinegar. Lead in various forms is rquch
iifed by painters. Its calces diflblve in
oil, and are employed for the purpofe of
thickeping paint and making it dry* All
lead points, however, are unwholefome
as l^ng as.they continue to fmell, and
the fumes of lead when melted are like-
, >yife pernicious.- This is the caufe why
painters and plumbers are fo fubje£t to
• various’ difeafes, particularly violent co-^
lies, and palfies, The white-lead ma
nufacture is fo hurtful to the health, that
the workmen in a very fhort time are
apt to lofe the ufe of'their limbs, and be
otherwife feverely indifpofed. •
H. 1 wonder, then, that any body will
work in them.
Ig-


1.J .8 T WE N T IE T H E VE NIN G. ' -
- X‘ Ignorance .and high wages are
fufficient to induce them. But it is to
be lamentetd that in a great many manu
factures the. health and lives of indivi
duals, are facrificed to the convenience
and profit of the community. Lead,
too, when difTolved, as it may be, in all
four liquors,;’ is a flow poifon,' and the
more dangerous, as it gives no difagree-
able tafte. A fait of lead made with
vinegar is fo fweet as to be called the
fugar of lead. It has been too common,
to put this or fome other preparation
of lead into four wines, in order to cure
them ; and much mifchief has been dond
by this practice., . '
G. If lead is poifonous, is it not
wrong to make water-pipes and citterns
of it ? ■
2^. This has been objected to 5 but
. it does not appear that water can dif-
folve any of the lead. Nor does it rea
dily ruft in the air, and hence it is much
ufed to cover buildings with, as well as
to


; ■ ■. OM METALS. . ' 1 29
to line fpoiits and water-coiirfes. : For
thefe purpofesj the ' lead - is Call into
flVeets, which; are eafily : cut and ham
mered into any fhape.
If. Bullets and iliot, too, are made of
lead. . ■ ;:
r.v They are] and in : this way it is
ten times more deftrudive than as a
poifon. ;
Q . I think more lead fedmsto lie
ufed than any metal except iron'. ',
TV It is; and the plenty of it in our
country is-a great benefit to us, both
for domeftic life, and as an article that
brings in much profit by exportation.
G. Where are .our principal 'lead-
mines ? .
2". They are much fcattered about
our ifland. The weft, of England pro-
I duces a good deal/in Cornwall, Devon-
i ' fhire, and Somerletfliire. ; Wales af-
j, fords a large quantity.. Derby Hi ire has"
long been noted for its Iead-mines, and
fo have Northumberland and Durham.
And


140 TWENTIETH EVENING. -
And there are confiderable ones in the
fouthern part of Scotland. Now do you
recoiled another metal to be fpoken
about?
G. Tin.
*T. True. Tin refembles lead in
colour, but has a more filvery whitenefs.
It is foft and flexible, like lead, but is
diftinguifhed by the crackling noife it
.makes on being bent. It melts as eafily
as lead, and alfo is. readily calcined by
keeping it .in the fire. It is the light-
eft of the metals, being only feven
times heavier than water. Tin may be
beat into a thin leaf, but not drawn out
to wire.' \
G. Is tin of much ufc ?
T.. It is not often ufed by itfelf, but
very frequently in conjunftion with
other metals. As tin is little liable to
ruft, or to be corroded by common
liquors, it is employed for a lining or
coating of vefiels made of copper or


ON METALS. 14!
iron. The faucepans and kettles in the
kitchen, you know, are all tinned.
; G. Yes. How is it done ?
ST. By melting the tin and fpreading
it upon the furface of the copper, which
is firft lightly pitched over, in order to
1 make the tin adhere.
H. But what are the veflels made at
the tinman’s ? Are not they all tin ?
T. No. Tinned-vjsxz (as it is pro
perly called) is made of thin iron plates
coated over with tin by dipping them
into a veffel full of melted 1 tin. Thefe
plates are afterwards cut and bent td
proper fhapes, and the joinings are fol-
dered together with a mixture of tin
and other metals. Another fimilar ufe
of tin is in what is callcd the filvering
of pins.
G. What—-is not that real filver--'
in g ?
No. the pins, which are made of
brafs wire, after being pointed and head
ed, are boiled in water in which gi'ain-


142- TWENTIETH; EVENING.: - .
tin .is put along with tartar, which is a
cruft that collects on the infide of wine
cafks. The tartar diffolves fome of
the tin, and makes'it adhere ,to thefur-
face of the pins ; and thus thoufands are
covered in an inftant. < ‘
H. That is as clever <as ; what you
told us of the. gilding ofbuttons.
fT. It is. .- Another.purpofe forwhicfr
great quantities ..of .tin ufed t6 be
employed,- was the making: of- pewter.
The beft pewter confifts chiefly of tin,
with a fmall mixtureof other metals to
harden it ;:.and the r London pewter was
brought to fuch perfection as to look
almoft as well as filver.
. G: I can juft remember a long row .
of pewter plates at my grandmother -s; /
, ST.. You may. In her time all the plates
3 nd difhes fprthe table were made-of
pewter; and a handfome range of pew
ter fhelves was'thought a capital orna
ment for a kitchen.' At prefent/this
trade'is almoft come to nothing'through
tv- 1 the


ON METALS. . 143-
the ufe of earthen ware and china ; and
pewter is employed for little, but ftills
and barber’s bafons, and porter pots.
But a good deal is ftill exported. Tin
is likewife an ingredient in other mixed
metals for various purpofes, but on the
whole, lefs of it is nfed than of the other
common metals.
G. Is not England more famous for
tin than.any other country ? 1 have read
of the Phoenicians trading here for it
in very early times.
T. They did; and tin is ftill a very
valuable article of export from England.
Much of it is fent as far as China.
The tin-mines here are chiefly in Corn
wall, and I believe they are the moft
produ&ive of any in Europe. Very
fine tin is alfo got in the peninfula of
Malacca in the Eaft Indies. Well—we
have now gone through the metals.
G. But you faid fomething about a
kind of metal called zinc.
T. That


1.44 TWENTIETH EVENING.
ST. That is one of another clafs of
-mineral fubftances, called Jem-metals.
Thefe refemble metals in every qua
lity but du&ility, of which they are
almoft wholly deftitute, and for want of
it they can feldom be ufed in the arts,
except when joined with metals.
G. Are there many of them ?
T. 'Yes, feveral; but we will not'talk
of them till I have taken fome oppor
tunity of fhowing them to you,
for probably you may never have feen
any of them. Now try to repeat the
names of all the metals to me in the
order of their weight.
H. There is firft gold. .
G. Then quickfilver , lead, filver.
H. Copper, iron , tin.
c t. Very right. Now I muft tell you
of an odd fancy that chemifts have had
of chriftening thefe metals by' the names
of the heavenly bodies. They .have
called gold, Sol or the Sun. : , i
: ' V, ‘ G. That


ON METALS. 1 45
G . : That is fuitable enough to' its
colour and brightnels.
K Then filver lhould be the moon,
for I have heard moonlight called of a
filvery Hue.
- TV True—^-and they have named it
fo. It is Luna. Quickfilver is Mercury ,
fo named probably from^its great pro
pen fity to dance and jump about*'for
Mercury , you know 3 was very nimble,
G. Yes—-he had wings to his heels.
T. Copper is Venus.
G . Venus I fu rely it is fcarcely beau-',
tiful .enough for that.
2". But they had difpofed of the
moft beautiful ones before. Iron is
Mars 1 . . ; :
H. That is right eriough, becaufe
fwords are made of iron. -
, I*. True. Then tin is Jupiter, and
lead Saturn I fuppofe only to make
put the number. Yet the dulnefs of
lead might be thought to agree with
that planet which is moft remote from
Vol. IV. H the


'14 6 TWENTIETH EVENING.
the fun. - Thefe names, childifh as they
may feem, are worth remembering,
fince chemifts and phyfieians ftill apply
them to many preparations of the
various metals. You will probably
'often hear of martial , lunar y mercurial,
and Jaturnine and you may now know-
what they mean. -
’ G., I think the knowledge of metals
feems more ufeful than all you'have
told us about plants.
T. I.don’t.know that. Many nations
rnake no ufe at all of metals, but there
are none which do not owe a great part
of their fubfiftence to vegetables. How
ever, without inquiring wha't parts
of natural. knowledge are moft, ufeful,'-
you may be affured of this, that all are
ufeful in fome degree or other j and
there are few things that give one man
greater fuperidrity, over another,,, than'
the, extent and accuracy of his know
ledge in thefe particulars. .One perfon
pafles all. his life upo'n the earth, a
1 ftranger


WH AT AN,IMAL-S ARE MADE, FOR. 1 47
ftrangento itj while another finds him-
lelf.at home, every where, . r ,
j -Vfi,. . U ■■ ■•■ ■ ■■ '■ -
I ;; v .. mWT . _ ' ... ......
WHAT ANIMALS ARE MADE FOR.
, . Pray, Papa, (faid 'Sophia- after fhe
had been a long while teafed with the
flies that buzzed about her ears, -and
1 fettled on her nofe and forehead as
| ihe fat at-work)—Pray what were flies
made for ? ’ ' ;
For fome good, I dare fay, (replied
her Papa.) ' .
S. "'But■■.I' think they do a great deal
more harm than good, for I am furs
they plague me fadly ; and in the:
j kitchen they are fo troublefome, that
|, the maids can hardly do' their work ^
j ■ for them. -
P./Flies eat up many things that
would Otherwife corrupt and become
H 2 ' loath-


1.48 TWENTIETH EVENING,-
loarhfomej and .they'ferve fbr j food
birds, fpiders., and many : other ani
mals. : ' ’ ^ V.' Y --
-But we could clean away every
thing that- was bffenfive without their
help ; and as to their ferving for/food,T-
have feen whole heaps of them-lying
dead in a window, without feeming to
have done good to-any thing.- - 1 ,j ' j :
P Well' then, : Suppofe a-fly caP
pcilk of thinking; would he not be -
equally puzzled to find out what men
were good for ?. This great two-legged
monfterj he might fay,' inft'ead of help
ing us to live, devours more food .at a
meal than wpuld ferve a whole legion
of flies. Then he kills us by hundreds'
when we come within his reach ; and I
fee him deftroy .and torment all other,:
animals too. And when he dies 1 e is
nailed 'up in a box and put a great way
under ground, as if he grudged doing,
any -more good after his death, than


WHAT ANIMALS ARE MADE FOR. 1 49
when alive. ' Now, what would you an- -
fwer to fuch a reafoning fly ?
S. I would tell him he was very im
pertinent for talking fo of his betters ;
for that he and all other creatures were,
made for the ufe of man,, and nor man
'for theirs.
P. But would you tell him true?
You have 'juli been faying that you
could not find out of what ufe flies were
to us: whereas, when they fuck our
blood, there is no doubt that we are of
ufe to them.- .
S;/ It is that which puzzles- me;
P. 'There are many other animals
which we call noxious, and which are fo-
far'from being ufeful to us, that we
take all pofiible pains to get rid of them.
More than that, .there are vaft trafls of
the earth where few .or no-men inhabit,, -
which are yet full of beafts, birds, in
fers, and all living things. Thefe cer«
tainly do not exift there for Ms ufe alone*.
: ; H 3 On


150 TWENTIETH EVENING.
On the contrary, they often keep man
away. ^ -
S. Then what are they made for ?
P. They are made to be happy. It'
is a manifeft' purpofe of the Creator to
•give being to as much life as poffible,
for life is enjoyment to all creatures in
health and in.pofifeffion of their facul
ties. Man furpalTes other animals in
his powers of enjoyment, and hfe has
profpe&s in a future ftate which they do
not fhare with him. But the. Creator
equally defires the happinefs of all his
creatures, and looks down .with as much .
benignity, upon thefe flies that are fport-
ing around us, as upon ourfelves.
S. Then we ought not to kill them
if they are ever fo troublefome.
P. I do not fay. that. We have a
right to make. a reafonable ufe of all
animals for our advantage,, and alfo ta
free ourfelves from fuch, as are hurtful
to us* So far our fuperiority over them
may fairly extend: But we Ihould never
4 , abufe


WHAT .ANIMALS'ARE,MADE FOR. 151
abufe' them: for our mere; amufement*.
nor take away their lives' wantonly,
Nay, a good-natured man' will rather
undergo a little inconvenience, than take
away from a creature all that it pofleiTes.
An ■■infant' ; may ; deftr6y.-life, but all the
kings-; upon earth cannot reftore it. I
remember reading of a good-tempered
old gentleman,- that having been a long
time plagued with a great fly that buzzed
about his face all dinner-time, at lengthy -
after many efforts, caught it. Inftead
of crufhing it to death, he held it care
fully. in his. hand, and opening the win-)
dowy cc Go, (faid he)-—get thee gone,-. '
poor, creature y I.won’t hurt a -hair of
thy head; furely, the world is wide
enough for ..thee; and me.” .' ~
/: S, I fhould have loved that man,
P. One of our poets has written fome
very pretty lines to a fly: that came to
partake with him of his wine* They
begin j - '
Y" ; ' Bii fy 3


1^2 TWENTIETH EVENTNG.
Bufy, curious, thirfty fly,
Drink with me, and drink as I;
- . • .Welcome freely to my cup, ■
Could’fl thou Up and fip it up.
S. How pretty ! I think they will
almoft make me love flies. But pray,
Bapa, do not animals, deftroy one
another ? ...
P. They do indeed. The greateft
part of them only live by the deftruftion
of life. There is a perpetual warfare
going .on, in which the (Ironger prey ,
upon - the. -weaker, and, in their
turns, are the prey of thole which are,
a degree Wronger.... than themfelves.
Even the innocent fheep, with every
mouthful of grafs, deftroys hundreds of
fmall infefts. In the air we breathe,
and the water we drink, we give death
to thoufands of invifible creatures. •
S. But is. not that very-flrange ? Tf
they were created to live and be happy*
why ih ould they be deftroyed fo faft E '
‘ P. They


WHAT ANIMALS ARE MADE'FOR. 153 '
P. They are Heftroyed no fafter than
others are' .produced ; and if they en
joyed life while it lafted, they have had
a good bargain. By making animals
the food of animals, providence has
filled up every chink, as it were, of •ex
igence.' 'You fee thefe fwarms of flies.
During all the hot weather they are cori^‘
tinmlly-cbming forth from the ftate of
e'ggs and’maggots^ and as foon as they
get the ufe of wings, they roam about,,
and fill - every' ' place in Tearch • of
food. 1 Meantime they are giving fuf-
tenance to :the_ wliole race - of fpiders j.
they maintain all the fwallow tribe, and
contribute greatly to the fupport of
many other fmall birds; and even afford-
many a delicate morfel to the fifties.’
Their own numbers* however, feem.'
fcarcely diminithed, and vaft multi-'
tudes .live on till the .cold weather comes -
and puts an end to them. Were no-^
thing tb' touch them, they would pro^ L
bably become fo numerous as.to ftarve*
' . each


154 TWENTIETH EVENING,
each other. : As' -k;'is,-.they are... full
of enjoyment- them lei ves ; - ; and ; afford
life and. enjoyment: to other creatures,
which in their turn fupply the wants of
others. . . . ..
.. S. It is no charity, then, to tear a,
fpider’s ^eb in pieces in order to fet a
fly at liberty.' ■ ; c .;^
; P. None at all-—-no -more -than it
would be to demolifh the trapsi of a
poor, Indian hunter, : who" depended
upon, them for his dinner. They ;both
a<£t as nature directs them. r Shall I tell
you a ftory. ? . ( . •
S. O yes—pray do !
P. A venerable Bramin, who had
never . in his days eaten any thing but
. rice and milk, J and-held it*.the greateft
of crimes to - fhed the blood of any
thing, that had life, , was one day medi
tating on the banks of the Ganges.
Hefaw a little bird on the ground pick-
, ing up ants as faft as he could fwallow.
Murderous wretch, cried he, what fcores


' • WHAT ANIM.ALS AUE MADE FOR.' I 55
of lives are facrificed to one ghktonous
meal of thine! Prefently a fparrow-
hawk- pouncing down, feized Him' in his
claws, and.flew off with him.' The'Bra-
min at firft was inclined to triumph over
the little bird ;/but on hearing his cries,
he could-nothelp pityihg him. Poor
thing, faid he, thou art fallen into the
clutches of thy tyrant !' A ftr6hger ty-
-rant, however, took up-the J matter r fo’r
a falcon in mid-air darting on the fpar-
row-hawk, {truck him to the ground,
with- the* bird lifelefs in his talon; ■ • Ty-
rant againft tyrant, thought the Bramin,
is well enough. The falcon had riot
finifhed tearing his prey, when a lynx,
ftealing from behind the rock on which,
lie was perched, fprungon him, and hav-
ing ftrangled him, bore, him to the edge
of a'neighbouring thicket, and began to
fuck f his blood. The Bramin’ was at
tentively Viewing this new.difplay of re
tributive juftice, ■ when a • fudden’ roai^
ftiook the air, and 1 a-Huge tyger,' rulh-


156 TWENTIETH; EVENING.
ing from the thicket, came like thunder
on the lynx. The Bramin was near
enough to hear the 'crafhing bones, and
was making off in great terror, .when
"he. met an Englifti foldier, armed with
his mufket. ( He pointed eagerly to the
place where the tyger was making his
bloody repaft. The foldier levelled his
gun, and laid the tyger dead. Brave
fellow! exclaimed the Bramin. lam
very hungry, faid the foldier, can you
give me a beef-fteak? I fee you have
plenty -of cows ; here. " -Horrible V crieid
.the Brami'n-j what & J- ; kill ‘the facred
:cows of Brama! 'Then kill the next
tyger yourfelf, faid the foldier.
THE E'ND, • 1 -
■ f ■ * Printed by T. Ben shy,
Boh’=Ccurt } Flcet-Strectj London*



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