THE OLD RED SANDSTONE. ll 
to have lost the adhesive quality. But there was nothing 
organic in its structure, whereas the stone I had now found 
was organized very curiously indeed. It was of a conical 
form and filamentary texture, the filaments radiating in straight 
lines from the centre to the circumference. Finely-marked 
veins like white threads ran transversely through these in its 
upper half to the point, while the space below was occupied 
by an internal cone, formed of plates that lay parallel to the 
base, and which, like watch-glasses, were concave on the un- 
der side, and convex on the upper. I learned in time to call 
this stone a belemnite, and became acquainted with enough of 
its history to know that it once formed part of a variety of cut- 
tle-fish, long since extinct. 
My first year of labor came to a close, and I found that the 
amount of my happiness had not been less than in the last of 
my boyhood. My knowledge, too, had increased in more 
than the ratio of former seasons; and as I had acquired the 
skill of at least the common mechanic, [ had fitted myself for 
independence. ‘The additional experience of twenty years 
has not shown me that there is any necessary connection be-~ 
tween a life of toil and a life of wretchedness; and when I 
have found good men anticipating a better and a happier time 
than either the present or the past, the conviction that in every 
period of the world’s history the great bulk of mankind must 
pass their days in labor, has not in the least inclined me to 
scepticism. 
My curiosity, once fully awakened, remained awake, and 
my opportunities of gratifying it have been tolerably ample. 
I have been an explorer of caves and ravines —a loiterer 
along sea-shores —a climber among rocks —a laborer in 
quarries. My profession was a wandering one. I remember 
passing direct, on one occasion, from the wild western coast 
