THE OLD RED SANDSTONE. 3 
I intended, however, to speak rather of the pleasure to be 
derived, by even the humblest, in the pursuit of knowledge, 
than of the power with which knowledge in the masses is 
invariably accompanied. For it is surely of greater impor- 
tance that men should receive accessions to their own happi- 
ness, than to the influence which they exert over other men. 
There is none of the intellectual, and none of the moral fac- 
ulties, the exercise of which does not lead to enjoyment. 
nay, it is chiefly in the active employment of these that all 
enjoyment consists; and hence it is that happiness bears so 
little reference to station. It is a truth which has been often 
told, but very little heeded or little calculated upon, that 
though one nobleman may be happier than another, and 
one laborer happier than another, yet it cannot be at all pre- 
mised of their respective orders, that the one is in any de- 
gree happier than the other. Simple as the fact may seem, 
if universally recognized, it would save a great deal of use- 
less discontent, and a great deal of envy. Will my humbler 
readers permit me at once to illustrate this subject, and to 
introduce the chapters which follow, by a piece of simple 
narrative ? I wish to show them how possible it is to enjoy 
much happiness in very mean employments. Cowper tells 
us that labor, though the primal curse, “has been softened 
into mercy ;” 
and I think that, even had he not done so, 1 
would have found out the fact for myself. 
It was twenty years, last February, since I set out a little 
before sunrise to make my first acquaintance with a life of 
labor and restraint, and I have rarely had a heavier heart 
than on that morning. I was but a slim, loose-jointed boy at 
the time — fond of the pretty intangibilities of romance, and 
of dreaming when broad awake; and, woful change! I was 
now going to work at what Burns has instanced in his “ Twa 
