Philosophy in sport, made science in earnest: being an attempt to implant in the young mind the first principles of natural philosophy by the aid of the popular toys and sports of youth

Front matter

PHILOSOPHY II SPOET

MADE

SCIENCE PNj EARNEST:

Chapter I

Tom Seymour’s arrival from school.—Description of Overton Lodge. —The Horologe of Flora. —A geological temple.—A sketch of the person and character of the Reverend Peter Twaddleton.— His antipathy to puns.—Mr. Seymour engages to furnish his son with any toy, the philosophy of which he is able to explain.—Mr. Twaddleton’s arrival and reception.—His remonstrance against the diffusion of science among the village mechanics.—A dialogue between Mr. Seymour and the Vicar, which some will dislike, more approve of, and all laugh at.—The plan of teaching philos¬ ophy by the aid of toys developed and discussed.—Play and work.—Toys and Tasks.—Mr. Twaddleton’s objections answered. —He relents, and engages to furnish an antiquarian history of the various toys and sports.Page 17

Chapter II

On gravitation.—Weight.—The velocity of falling bodies.—At what altitude a body would lose its gravity.—The Tower of Babel.— The known velocity of sound affords the means of calculating distances.—The sound of the woodman’s axe.—An excursion to Overton well.—An experiment to ascertain its depth.—A visit to the Vicarage.—The Magic Gallery.—Return to the Lodge.... 41

Chapter III

Motion, absolute and relative.— Uniform, accelerated, and retarded velocity.—The times of ascent and descent are equal.—Vis iner¬ tias.—Friction.—Action and reaction are equal and in opposite di¬ rections.—Momentum defined and explained.—The three great laws of motion. 62

Chapter IV

A sad accident turned to a good account.—One example worth a hundred precepts.—Vis inertise.—The Bandilor. An experi¬ ment.—The centers of magnitude and gravity.—The point of sus¬ pension.—The line of direction.—The stability of bodies, and upon what it depends.— Method of finding the center of gravity

Contents

of a body.—The art of the balancer explained and illustrated.— Walking on stilts.—Various balancing toys. 78

CHAPTEE V.

The Chinese Tumblers, illustrating the joint effects of change in the center of gravity of a body, and of momentum.—Mr. Twaddleton’s arrival after a series of adventures.—The Dancing Balls. — The Pea-shooter.— A Figure that dances on a fountain.— The Flying Witch. —Elasticity.—Springs.—The game of “ Eicochet,” or duck and drake.—The Eebounding Ball. —Animals that leap by means of an elastic apparatus.—The industrious fleas.—A new species of puffing, by which the Vicar is made to change counte¬ nance. 97

Chapter I

tom Seymour’s arrival from school.—description of overton

LODGE.-THE HOROLOGE OF FLORA.-A GEOLOGICAL TEMPLE.-

A SKETCH OF THE PERSON AND CHARACTER OF THE REVEREND

PETER TWADDLETON.-HIS ANTIPATHY TO PUNS.-MR. SEYMOUR

ENGAGES TO FURNISH HIS SON WITH ANY TOY, THE PHILOSOPHY

OF WHICH HE IS ABLE TO EXPLAIN.-MR. TWADDLETON’s ARRIVAL

AND RECEPTION.-HIS REMONSTRANCE AGAINST THE DIFFUSION

OF SCIENCE AMONGST THE VILLAGE MECHANICS.-A DIALOGUE

BETWEEN MR. SEYMOUR AND THE VICAR, WHICH SOME WILL

DISLIKE, MORE APPROVE OF, AND ALL LAUGH AT. THE PLAN

OF TEACHING PHILOSOPHY BY THE AID OF TOYS DEVELOPED AND

DISCUSSED.-PLAY AND WORK.-TOYS AND TASKS.-MR. TWADDLE-

TON’S OBJECTIONS ANSWERED.-HE RELENTS, AND ENGAGES TO

FURNISH AN ANTIQUARIAN HISTORY OF THE VARIOUS TOYS AND SPORTS.

The summer recess of Mr. Pearson’s school was not more anxiously anticipated by the scholars than by the numerous family of Seymour, who, at the commencement of the year, had parted from a beloved son and brother for the first time. As the season of relaxation approached, so did the inmates of Overton Lodge (for such was the name of Mr. Seymour’s seat) betray increasing impatience for its arrival. The three elder sisters, Louisa, Fanny, and Kosa, had been engaged for several days in arranging the little study

2 * which their brother Tom had usually occupied. His books were carefully replaced on their shelves, and bunches of roses and jasmines, which the affectionate girls had culled from the finest trees in the garden, were tastefully dis¬ persed through the apartment; the festoons of blue ribands, with which they were entwined, at once announced them¬ selves as the work of graceful hands impelled by light hearts; and every flower might be said to reflect from its glowing petals the smiles with which it had been collected and arranged. At length the happy day arrived; a carriage drew up to the gate, and Tom was once again folded in the arms of his affectionate and delighted parents. The little group surrounded their beloved brother, and welcomed his return with all the warmth and artlessness of juvenile sincerity. “Well,” said Mr. Seymour, “if the improvement of your mind corresponds with that of your looks, I shall indeed have reason to congratulate myself upon the choice of your school. But have you brought me any letter, from Mr. Pearson?” “I have,” replied Tom, who presented his father with a note from his master, in which he dwelt in high terms of commendation, not only upon the general conduct of his pupil, but upon the rapid progress he had made in his classi¬ cal studies.

“ My dearest boy,” exclaimed the delighted father, “lam more than repaid for the many anxious moments which I have passed on your account. I find that your conduct has given the highest satisfaction to your master; and that your good-nature, generosity, and, above all, your strict adherence to truth, have insured the love and esteem of your school¬ fellows.” This gratifying report brought tears of joy into the eyes of Mrs. Seymour; Tom’s cheek glowed with the feeling of conscious merit; and the sisters interchanged looks of mutual satisfaction. Can there be an incentive to indus¬ try and virtuous conduct more powerful than the exhilar¬ ating smiles of approbation winch the schoolboy receives from an affectionate parent? Tom would not have ex¬ changed his feelings for all the world, and he internally

MADE SCIENCE IN EARNEST.

vowed that he would never deviate from a course that had been productive of so much happiness.

“ But come,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, u let us all retire into the library. I am sure that our dear fellow will he glad of some refreshment after his journey.”

"We shall here leave the family circle to the undisturbed enjoyment of their domestic banquet, and invite the reader to accompany us in a stroll about the grounds of this beau¬ tiful and secluded retreat.

"We are among those who believe that the habits and character of a family may be as easily discovered from the rural taste displayed in the grounds which surround their habi tation, as by any examination of the prominences on their heads, or of the lineaments in their faces. How vividly is the decline of an ancient race depicted by the chilling deso¬ lation which reigns around the mansion, and by the rank weed which insolently triumphs over its fading splendor; and how equally expressive of the peaceful and contented industry of the thriving cottager, is the well-cultivated patch which adjoins the humble dwelling, around whose rustic porch the luxuriant lilac clusters, or the aspiring woodbine twines its green tendrils and sweetly scented blossoms! In like manner did the elegantly disposed grounds of Overton Lodge at once announce the classic taste and fostering presence of a refined and highly cultivated family.

The house, which was in the.Ionic style of architecture, was situated on the declivity of a hill, so that the verdant lawn which was spread before its southern front, after re¬ taining its level for a short distance, gently sloped to the vale beneath, and was terminated by a luxuriant shrubbery, over which the eye commanded a range of fair inclosures, beauti¬ fied by an irregularly undulating surface, and interspersed with rich masses of wood. The uniformity of the lawn was broken by occasional clumps of flowering shrubs, so art¬ fully selected and arranged, as to afford all the varied charms of contrast; while, here and there, a lofty elm flung its gigantic arms over the sward beneath, which enabled the inhabitants of the Lodge, like the philosophers of old, to converse in the shade even during the heat of a meridian sun. The shrubbery, which occupied a considerable portion of the valley, stretched for some distance up the western part of the hill; and could Shenstone have wandered through its winding paths and deep recesses, his own Leasowes might have suffered from a comparison. Here were mingled shrubs of every varied dye; the elegant foliage of white and scarlet acacias was blended with the dark-green-leaved chestnut; and the stately branches of the oak were relieved by the gracefully pendulous boughs of the birch. At irregular intervals, the paths expanded into verdant glades, in each of which the bust of some favorite poet or philosopher an¬ nounced the genius to which they were severally consecrated. From a description of one or two of these sequestered spots, the reader will readily conceive the taste displayed in all.

After winding, for some distance, through a path so closely interwoven with shrubs and trees that scarcely a sunbeam could struggle through the foliage, a gleam of light suddenly burst through the gloom, and displayed a beautiful marble figure, which had been executed by a Eoman artist, repre¬ senting Flora in the act of being attired by Spring. It was placed in the center of the expanse formed by the retiring trees, and at its base were flowering, at measured intervals, a variety of those plants to which Linnaeus has given the name of Equinoctial Flowers , since they open and close at certain and exact hours of the day, and thus by proper arrangement constitute the Horologe of Flora, or Nature’s time¬ piece. It had been constructed, under the direction of her mother, by Louisa Seymour. The hour of the day at which each plant opened was represented by an appropriate figure of nicely trimmed box; and these, being arranged in a circle, not only fulfilled the duty, but exhibited the appearance of a dial.

From this retreat several winding paths threaded their mazy way through the deep recesses of the wood; and the wanderer, quitting for a while the blaze of day, was refreshed

MADE SCIENCE IN EARNEST.

by the subdued light which everywhere pervaded the avenue, except where the hand of taste had, here and there, turned aside the boughs, and opened a vista to bring the village spire into view, or to gladden the sight by a rich prospect of the distant landscape. After having descended for some way, the path, losing its inclined direction, proceeded on a level, and thus announced to the stranger his arrival at the bottom of the valley. What a rich display of woodland scenery was suddenly presented to his view! A rocky glen, in which large masses of sandstone were grouped with pic¬ turesque boldness, terminated the path, and formed an area wherein he might gaze on the mighty sylvan amphitheater, which gradually rose to a towering height above him, and seemed to interpose an insuperable barrier between the soli¬ tude of this sequestered spot and the busy haunts of men; not a sound assailed the ear, save the murmur of the summer breeze, as it swept the trembling foliage, or the brawling of a small mountain stream, which gushed from the rock, and, like an angry chit, fretted and fumed as it encountered the obstacles that had been raised by its own impetuosity. This was the favorite retreat of Mr. Seymour, and he had dedi¬ cated it to the genius of geology ; here had he erected a tem¬ ple to the memory of Werner, and every pillar and ornament bore testimony to the refined taste of its architect. It con¬ sisted of a dome, constructed of innumerable shells and corallines, and surmounted by a marble figure of Atlas, bear¬ ing the globe on his shoulders, upon which the name of Wer¬ ner was inscribed.

This dome was supported by twelve pillars of so singular and beautiful a construction as to merit a particular description: the Corinthian capital of each was of Pentelican marble; the column consisted of a spiral of about six inches in breadth, which wound round a central shaft of not more than two inches in. diameter; upon this spiral were placed specimens of various rocks, of such masses as to fill up the outline, and to present to the eye the appear¬ ance of a substantial and well-proportioned pillar. These specimens were arranged in an order corresponding with their acknowledged geological relations; thus, the Diluvial productions occupied the higher compartments; the Primi¬ tive strata, the lower ones; and the Secondary and Transi¬ tion series found intermediate places. The tesselated floor presented the different varieties of marble, so artfully inter¬ spersed as to afford a most harmonious combination; the Unicolored , variegated , Madreporic , the Lumachella , Cipolino , and Breccia marbles, were each represented by a char¬ acteristic and well-defined specimen. The alcoved ceiling sparkled with Pock Crystal , interspersed with calcareous Stalactites , and beautiful Chalcedonies. A group of figures in basso relievo adorned the wall which inclosed about a third part of the interior of the temple, and its subject gave evidence of the Wernerian devotion of Mr. Seymour; for it represented a contest between Pluto and Neptune, in which the watery god was seen in the act of wresting the burning torch from the hand of Ms adversary, in order to quench it in the ocean. Mr. Seymour had studied in the school of Freyburg, under the auspices of its celebrated professor; and, like all the pupils of Werner, he pertinaciously maintained the aqueous origin of our strata. But let us return to the happy party at the Lodge, whom the reader will remem¬ ber we left at their repast. This having been concluded, and all those various subjects discussed, and questions answered, which the schoolboy, who has ever felt the satisfaction of returning home for the holidays, will more easily conceive than we can describe, Tom inquired of his father, whether his old friend, Mr. Twaddleton, the vicar of Overton, was well, and at the Parsonage. “ He is quite well,” said Mr. Seymour, “ and so anxious to see you, that he has paid sev¬ eral visits during the morning, to inquire whether you had arrived. Depend upon it, that many hours will not elapse' before you see him.”

In that wish did Tom and the whole juvenile party heart¬ ily concur; for the vicar, notwithstanding his oddities, was the most affectionate creature in existence, and never was he more truly happy than when contributing to the innocent

MADE SCIENCE IN EARNEST.

amusement of his little “ playmates ,” as he used to call Tom and his sisters.

It may he here necessary to present the reader with a short sketch of the character of a person, who will be here¬ after found to perform a prominent part in the little drama of Overton Lodge.

The Rev. Peter Twaddleton, Master of Arts, and Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, for we must introduce him in due form, was about fifty-six years of age, twenty of which he had spent at Cambridge, as a resident Fellow of Jesus Col¬ lege. He had not possessed the vicarage of Overton above eight or nine years ; and although its value never exceeded a hundred and eighty pounds a year, so limited were his wants, and so frugal his habits that he generally contrived to save a considerable sum out of his income, in order that he might devote it to purposes of charity and benevolence: his char¬ ity, however, was not merely of the hand, but of the heart; distress was unknown in his village; he fed the hungry, instructed the ignorant, nursed the sick, and cheered the unfortunate; his long collegiate residence had imparted to his mind several peculiar traits, and a certain stiffness of ad¬ dress and quaintness of manner which at once distinguish the recluse from the man of the world; in short, as Shakspeare expresses it, “ he was not hackney'd in the ways of men .” His face was certainly the very reverse to every thing that could be considered “good looking,” and yet, when he smiled, there was an animation that redeemed the otherwise harsh expression of his angular features; so benevolent was this smile, it was impossible not to feel that sentiment of respect and admiration which the presence of a superior per¬ son is wont to inspire; but his superiority was rather that of the heart than of the head ; not that we would insinuate any inferiority in intellect, but that his moral excellences were so transcendent as to throw into the shade all those mental qualities which he possessed in common with his class.

He entertained a singular aversion to the mathematics, a pre¬ judice which we are inclined to refer to his disappointment in the senate-liouse; for, although he was known at Cam¬ bridge as one of those “ pale beings in spectacles and cotton stockings,” commonly called “ reading-men” yet, after all his exertions, he only succeeded in obtaining the u wooden spoon” an honor which devolves upon the last of the u junior optimes .” Whether his failure rose from an exuberant or a deficient genius, or, to speak phrenologically , from an excess in his number of bumps , or a defect in his bump of numbers, we are really unable to state, never having had an opportu¬ nity of verifying our suspicions by a manual examination of his cranium; he was, however, well read in the classics, and so devoted to the works of Virgil, that he rarely lost an op¬ portunity of quoting his favorite poet; and, although these quotations, vented in mangled forms, too generally pervaded his conversation, they were sometimes apposite, and now and then even witty. But, notwithstanding the delight which he experienced in a lusus verborum in a learned language, of such contradictory materials was he composed, that his antip¬ athy to an English pun was so extravagant as to be ridicu¬ lous. This peculiarity has been attributed, but we speak merely from common report, to a disgust which he contracted for that species of spurious wit, during his frequent inter¬ course with the Johnians, a race of students who have, from time immemorial, been identified with the most profligate class of punsters ;* be this, however, as it may, we are inclined to believe that a person who resides much amongst those who are addicted to this vice, unless he quickly takes the in¬ fection, acquires a sort of constitutional insusceptibility, like nurses, who pass their lives in infected apartments with per-

* It is not easy to imagine the origin of this tradition, nor after considerable research can we discover the slightest clew to explain the sobriquet of Hogs , in which the members of the same fraternity have so long rejoiced. If the Johnians, however, are guiltless of the sin of punning, they have certainly been the cause of that sin in others; for instance, the bridge erected over the Cam, to connect the new and old courts, has been termed the “Isthmus of Sues ”—and on the author passing over this bridge with Mr. Coleridge, the latter observed that were a Johnian to hang himself upon it, the jury might well bring in a verdict, “ Sue per col."

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feet safety and impunity. His favorite, and we might add his only pursuit, beyond the circle of his profession, was the study of antiquities; he was, as we have already stated, a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries; had collected a very tolerable series of ancient coins, and possessed sufficient criti¬ cal acumen to distinguish between Attic aerugo and the spu¬ rious verdure of the modern counterfeit. In short, he was a keen archaeological mouser of the genuine breed, rejoicing in dusty nooks and damp mysterious cells. Often had he under¬ taken an expedition of a hundred miles to inspect the interior of an ancient barrow, or to examine the moldering frag¬ ments of some newly discovered monument; indeed, like the connoisseur in cheese, blue-mold and decay were the favor¬ ite objects of his taste, and the sure passports to his favor; for he despised all living testimony, but that of worms and maggots. A coin with the head of a living sovereign passed through his hands with as little resistance as water through a sieve, but he grasped the head of an Antonine or Otho with insatiable and relentless avarice. Mr. Twaddleton’s figure exceeded the middle stature, and was so extremely slender as to give him the air and appearance of a tall man. He was usually dressed in an * old-fashioned suit of black cloth, consisting of a single-breasted coat, with a standing collar, and deep comprehensive cuffs, and a flapped waist¬ coat ; but so awkwardly did these vestments conform with the contour of his person, that we might have supposed them the production of those Laputan tailors who wrought by mathematical principles, and held in sovereign contempt the illiterate fashioners who deemed it necessary to measure the forms of their customers; although it was whispered by cer¬ tain censorious spinsters in the village that the aforesaid mathematical artists were better acquainted with the angles of the Seven Dials than with the squares of the west end.

They further surmised that the vicar’s annual journey to Lon¬ don, which in truth was undertaken with no other objects than those of attending the anniversary of the Society of Antiqua¬ ries, on St. George’s day, and of inspecting the cabinets of the British Museum, and that of his old crony, the celebrated medalist of Tavistock-street, was for the laudable purpose of recruiting his wardrobe. If the aforesaid coat, with its straggling and disproportioned suburbs, possessed an ampli¬ tude of dimensions which ill-accorded with the slender wants of his person, this misapplied liberality was more than com¬ pensated by the rigid economy exhibited in the nether part of his costume (the innomindbiles of Southey), which evi¬ dently had not been designed by a contemporary artisan; not so his shoes, which, for the accommodation of those unwel¬ come parasites, vulgarly called corns , were constructed in the form of a battledore, and displayed such an unbecoming quantity of leather, that, as Ned Hopkins, a subaltern wit of the village alehouse, observed, u however-economical their parson might appear, he was undoubtedly supported in ex¬ travagance Nor did the natural association between tithes and “ corn-bags ” escape his observation, but was repeated with various other allusions of equal piquancy, to the no small annoyance of the reverend gentleman, and, as he de¬ clared, to the disparagement of his cloth.

After the social repast had been concluded, Tom proposed a ramble through the shrubbery. He was anxious to revisit the scene of his former sports; and Louisa readily met his wishes, for she was also desirous of showing him the botanical clock , which had been planned and completed during his ab¬ sence. • Mr. and Mrs. Seymour accompanied their children, and, as they walked across the lawn, Tom asked his father whether he remembered the promise he had made him on quitting home for school, that of furnishing him some new amusements during the holidays.

“I perfectly remember,” said his father, “the promise to which you allude, and I hope that you equally well rec¬ ollect the conditions with which it was coupled. When your mamma gave you a copy of Mrs. Marcet’s instructive Dialogues on Natural Philosophy, I told you that, after you had studied the principles which that work so admirably ex¬ plains, you would have but little difficulty in understanding

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the philosophy of toys, or the manner in which each produ¬ ced its amusing effects; and that, when the midsummer holi¬ days commenced, I would successively supply you with a new amusement, whenever you could satisfactorily explain the principles of those you already possessed. Was not that our contract?”

“It was,” exclaimed Tom, with great eagerness; “and I am sure I shall win the prize, whenever you will try me, and I hope my mamma and sisters will be present.”

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Seymour, “ and I trust that Lou¬ isa and Fanny, who are of an age to understand the subject, will not prove uninterested spectators.”

Mrs. Seymour here remarked that Madame Dacier had ac¬ knowledged herself much indebted for her successful career in literature to her having attended the lessons given to her brother in early life.

“Exactly so,” said Mr. Seymour, “.she alluded to the les¬ sons given by her father, M. Le Fevre; and I hope that John will, in like manner, profit by our scheme; and since I shall necessarily require, for illustration, certain toys which can scarcely afford any amusement to a boy of Tom’s age and ac¬ quirements, it is but fair that they should be transferred into younger hands; our little philosopher, Matthew, will also, I am sure, enter into the spirit of our pastimes with equal satis¬ faction and advantage.”

“ Thank you! thank you! dear papa,” was simultane¬ ously shouted by several voices, and the happy children look¬ ed forward to the morrow with that mixed sensation of im¬ patience and delight which always attends juvenile anticipa¬ tions.

On the following morning, the vicar was seen approaching, and Tom and his sisters immediately ran forward to greet

him.

“My dear boy,” exclaimed the vicar, “I am truly rejoiced to see you ;—when did you arrive from school ?—How goes on Virgil?—Hey, my boy?—You must be delighted with the great Mantuan bard;—now confess, you little Trojan, can you eat a cheesecake without being reminded of the Harpy’s pro¬ phecy, and its fulfilment, as discovered by young Ascanius :

But, bless me, how amazingly you have grown! and how healthy you look!” Tom took advantage of this pause in the vicar’s address, which had hitherto flowed in so uninterrupted and rapid a stream as to preclude the possibility of any reply to his questions, to inform him that his father was on the lawn, and desirous of seeing him.

“Mr. Twaddleton,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, “you are just in time to witness the commencement of a series of amuse¬ ments, which I have proposed for Tom’s instruction during the holidays.”

“ Amusement and instruction,” replied the vicar, “ are not synonymous in my vocabulary; unless, indeed, they be ap¬ plied to the glorious works of Virgil; but let me hear your scheme.”

“I have long thought,” said Mr. Seymour, “that all the first principles of natural philosophy might be easily taught, and beautifully illustrated, by the common toys which have been invented for the amusement of youth.”

“ A fig for your philosophy!” was the unceremonious and chilling reply of the vicar. “ What have boys,” continued he, “ to do with philosophy ? Let them learn their grammar, scan their hexameters, and construe Virgil; it is time enough to inflict upon them the torments of science after their names have been entered on the University boards.”

“ I differ from yorPentirely, my worthy friend; the princi¬ ples of natural philosophy cannot be too early inculcated, nor can they be too widely diffused. It is surely a great object to engage the prepossessions on the side of truth, and to direct the natural curiosity of youth to useful objects.”

“ Hoity toity!” exclaimed the reverend gentleman; “ such principles accord not with my creed; heresy, downright

* “See! we devour the plates on which we fed.”— jEn. vii. 116.

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heresy; that a man of your excellent sense and intelligence can be so far deceived! But the world has run mad; and much do I grieve to find, that the seclusion of Overton Lodge has not secured its inmates from the infection. I came here, Mr. Seymour, to receive your sympathy, and to profit by your counsel; but, alas! alas! I have fallen into the camp of the enemy: ‘ Medios delajpsus in hostes ,’ as Virgil has it.”

“ You astonish me—what can have happened ?” asked Mr. Seymour.

“There is Tom Plank, the carpenter,” said the vicar, “ so¬ liciting subscriptions for the establishment of a philosophical society—a ‘Mechanics’ Institute,’ I believe they call it. I understand that this mania—for by what other, or more charitable term can I express such conduct?—has seized this deluded man since his return from London, where he has been informed that all the ‘ hewers of wood and drawers of water’ are about to associate themselves into societies for the promotion of science. Preposterous idea! as if a block of wood could not be split without a knowledge of the doctrine of percussion; a pa.il of water drawn from the well without an acquaintance with hydrostatics ; nor a load securely car¬ ried without solving a problem to determine its center of grav¬ ity ; but, as I am a Christian priest, I solemnly declare that I grieve only for my flock, and raise my feeble voice for no other purpose than that of scaring the wolf from the fold : to be angry, as Pope says, would be to revenge the faults of others upon ourselves; but I am not angry, Mr. Seymour; I am only vexed, sorely vexed.”

“ Take it not thus to heart, my dear vicar,” replied his con- . soling friend; “ ‘ Solve metusj as your poet has it. Science, I admit, is both the Pallas and Pandora of mankind; its abuse may certainly prove mischievous, but its sober and well-timed application cannot fail to increase the happiness of every class of mankind, as well as to advance and improve every branch of the mechanical arts: so thoroughly am I satisfied upon this point, that I shall subscribe to the pro¬ posed society with infinite satisfaction.”

3 *

“ Mr. Seymour! Mr. Seymour! youjpiow not what you do. Would you scatter the seeds of insubordination? manure the weeds of infidelity? fabricate a battering-ram to demolish our holy church ? Such, indeed, must be the effect of. your Utopian scheme; for truly may I exclaim with the immortal Maro—

“ Come, come, my good friend, all this is declamation withaut argument,” said Mr. Seymour.