Scotland, more than a hundred years since, there lived a boy named Edmund Stone, whose father was gardener to the Duke of Ar-gyle'. One day that nobleman found on the grass a volume of Newton's works in Latin.

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2. The duke was surprised to find that any of his laborers could read such a work. Being told that it belonged to his gardener's son, a youth of eighteen, he summoned him, and said, "How came you to a knowledge of these things?" Edmund replied,119 "A servant taught me, ten years ago, to read. Does one need anything more than the twenty-six letters in order to learn everything else that he wishes?”

3. Then the duke, still more surprised, sat down on a bank, and received from Edmund the following account: "When the masons were at work upon your house, I first learned to read. I observed that the architect used a rule and compasses, and made calculations.

4. "I inquired what was the meaning of such things, and was informed that there was a science called Arithmetic.EI I learned it. Then I was told there was another science called Ge-om'etry. and learned Geometry.

I procured the necessary books,

5. "By reading, I found there were good books, in both these sciences, in the Latin language. I bought a dictionary, and learned Latin. Then I understood that there were good books of the same kind in French. I bought a dictionary, and learned French.

6. "It seems to me that, when we know the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, we may learn what we please." Edmund Stone was afterwards well known as an author, and published a number of mathematical works. He was elected a fellow of the Royal Society in 1725, and died in 1768.

1. THE sun is careering, in glory and might,

'Mid the deep blue-sky and the clouds so bright;

The billow is tossing its foam on high,
And the summer breezes go lightly by;
The air and the water dance, glitter, and play-
And why should not I be as merry as they?

2. The linnet is singing the wild wood through,
The fawn's bounding footsteps skim over the dew,
The butterfly flits round the blossoming tree,
And the cowslip and blue-bell are bent by the bee:
All the creatures that dwell in the forest are gay,
And why should not I be as merry as they?

MISS MITFORD

LI.

ON THE VICE OF LYING.

1. To warn us from lying, we should do well to consider the folly, the meanness, and the wickedness, of it. The folly of lying consists in its defeating its own purpose. A habit of lying is generally detected in the end; and after detection, the liar, instead of deceiving, will not even be believed when he happens to speak the truth.

2. Nay, every single lie is attended with such a variety of circumstances which lead to a detection, that it is often discovered. The use generally made of a lie is to cover a fault; but, as this end is seldom answered, we only aggravate what we wish to conceal. In point even of prudence, an honest confession would serve us better.

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3. The meanness of lying arises from the cowardice which it implies. We dare not boldly and nobly speak the truth, but have recourse to low subterfuges; which always show a sordid and disingenuous mind. Hence it is that the word liar is always considered as a term of peculiar reproach.

4. The wickedness of lying consists in its perverting one of the greatest blessings of God, the use of speech; in making that a mischief to mankind which was intended for a benefit. Truth is the greatest bond of society. If one man lies, why may not another? And if there is no mutual trust, there is an end of all intercourse.

5. An equivocation is nearly related to a lie. It is an intention to deceive under words of a double meaning, or words which, literally speaking, are true; and is equally criminal with the most downright breach of truth. A nod, or sign, may convey a lie as effectually as the most deceitful language.

6. Under the head of lying may be mentioned a breach of promise. Every engagement, though only of the lightest kind, should be punctually observed: and he who does not think himself bound by such an obligation has little pretension to the character of an honest man. GILPIN.

LII.

SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS DOGS.

1. AFTER my return from Melrose Abbey, Scott proposed a ramble, to show me something of the surrounding country. As we sallied forth, every dog in the establishment turned out to attend us. There was the old and well-known staghound, Maida, a noble animal, and a great favorite of Scott's; and Hamlet, the black greyhound, a mild, thoughtless youngster, which had not yet arrived at the years of discretion; and Finella, a beautiful setter, with soft silken hair, long pendent ears, and a mild eye, the parlor favorite.

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2. When in front of the house, we were joined by a superannuated greyhound, which came from the kitchen," wagging his tail, and was cheered by Scott as an old friend and comrade. In our walks, Scott would frequently pause in conversation, to notice his dogs, and speak to them, as if rational companions; and, indeed, there appears to be a vast deal of rationality in these faithful attendants on man, derived from their close intimacy with him.

3. Maida deported himself with a gravity becoming his age and size, and seemed to consider himself called upon to preserve a great degree of dignity and decorum in our society. As he jogged along a little distance ahead of us,

the young dogs would gambol about him, leap on his neck, worry at his ears, and endeavor to tease him into a gambol.

4. The old dog would keep on for a long time, with imperturbable solemnity, now and then seeming to rebuke the wantonness of his young companions. At length he would make a sudden turn, seize one of them, and tumble him into the dust; then, giving a glance at us, as much as to say, "You see, gentlemen, I can't help giving way to this nonsense," would resume his gravity, and jog on as before. Scott amused himself with these peculiarities.

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5. "I make no doubt," said he, "when Maida is alone with these young dogs, he throws gravity aside, and plays the boy as much as any of them; but he is ashamed to do so in our company, and seems to say: 'Have done with your nonsense, youngsters; what will the laird and that other gentleman think of me if I give way to such foolery?'''

6. While we were discussing the humors and peculiarities of our canine companions, some object provoked their spleen, and produced a sharp and petulant barking from the smaller fry; but it was some time before Maida was sufficiently roused to ramp forward two or three bounds, and join the chorus with a deep-mouthed bow-wow. It was but a transient outbreak, and he returned instantly, wagging his tail, and looking up dubiously in his master's face, uncertain whether he would receive censure or applause.

7. "Ay, ay, old boy," cried Scott, "you have done wonders, you have shaken the Eildon Hills with your roaring; you may now lay by your artillery for the rest of the day. Maida," continued he, "is like the great gun at Constantinople; it takes so long to get it ready that the smaller guns can fire off a dozen times first; but when it does go off it does great mischief."

8. These simple anecdotes may serve to show the delightful play of Scott's humors and feelings in private life. His domestic animals were his friends. Everything about him

seemed to rejoice in the light of his countenance; the face of the humblest dependent brightened at his approach, as if he anticipated a cordial and cheering word.

1. It happened at Athens, during a public representation of some play, exhibited" in honor of the state, that an old gentleman came too late for a place suitable" to his age and quality.

2. A number of young men, who observed the difficulty and confusion the poor old gentleman was in, made signs to him that they would accommodate him, if he came where they sat.

* A direct question, to which the answer is anticipated, takes the falling inflection. See Remarks under ¶ 118, Part I.