LESSONS IN GEOMETRY. 



four or five minutes with redoubled earnestnes*, sagely observed that 



"ha lui'l In: a..ui.tH about the mutter" which la procesi) 



gained him the character of a man slow in belief, and not easily 



imposed on. 



Tl..' ix-rson of thifi illustrious old gentleman was as regularly formed 

 iiii.l n.'i'ly ]>r|>rti<ined as though it had been moulded by the hands 

 of some i-i;iiiiiiiu- Dutch statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly 

 grandeur. He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet 

 ii<-s in irriiinference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of 

 such stupendous dimensions, that dumo Nature, with all her Mac's 

 >, wmil.l have been puziled to construct a neck capable of 

 :;:.- it ; wlioreforo she wisely declined the attempt, and settled 

 it tirmly on the top of his backbone, just between the shoulders. His 

 body was of an oblong form, particularly capacious at bottom ; which 

 was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a man of seden- 

 tary habits, and very averse to the idle labour of walking. His legs, 

 though exceeding short, were sturdy in proportion to the weight they 

 had to sustain ; so that, when erect, he had not a little the appearance 

 of a robustious beer-barrel standing on skids. His face, that infallible 

 index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, perfectly unfurrowed or 

 deformed by any of those lines and anglg which disfigure the human 

 countenance with what is termed expression. Two small grey eyes' 

 twinkled feebly iu the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in the 

 hazy firmament ; and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken 

 toll of everything that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled 

 and streaked with dusky red, like a Spitzenberg apple. 



His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four 

 stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he smoked and 

 doubted eight hours ; and he slept the remaining twelve of the four- 

 and-twenty. Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller a true 

 philosopher; for his mind was either elevated above or tranquilly 

 settled below the cores and perplexities of this world. He hod lived 

 in it for years without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the 

 sun revolved round it, or it round the sun ; and he hod watched for 

 at least half a century the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, 

 without once troubling his head with any of those numerous theories 

 by which the philosopher would have perplexed his brain, in account- 

 ing for its rising above the surrounding utmosphere. Washington 

 Irviiig. 



XJTI. THE CHILD OF THE TOMB: A 8TORT OP NEW BUBYPOBT. 



[The following fact is found in Knapp's " Life of Lord 

 Dexter."] 



Where WHITEFIELD sleeps, remembered, in the dust, 



The lowly vault held once a double trust ; 



And PARSONS, reverend name, that quiet tomb 



Possessed, to wait the day of weal and doom. 



Another servant of the living God, 



PRINCE, who (bereft of sight) his way had trod, 



Unerringly and safe, life's journey through, 



Now sought admittance to these slumberers too. 



As earth receded, and the mansions blest 



Rose on his vision, " Let my body rest 



With Whitefield's " said he, yielding up his breath, 



In life beloved, and not disjoined in death. 



Obedient to his wish, in order then 



Were all things Uone ; the tomb was oped to ken 



Of curious eyes, made ready to enclose 



Another tenant in its hushed repose : 



And, lighted with a single lamp, whose ray 



Fell dimly down upon the mouldering clay, 



Was left, prepared, to silence as of night, 



Till hour appointed for the funeral rite. 



It chanced the plodding teacher of a school, 

 A man of whim, bold, reckless, yet no fool, 

 Deemed this an opportunity to test 

 How far the fears of spirits might infest 

 The bosom of a child. A "likely" boy, 

 The choicest of his flock, a mother's joy, 

 He took, unscrupulous of means, if he 

 His ends might gain, and solve the mystery. 



Both stood within the mansion of the dead, 

 And while the stripling mused, the teacher fled, 

 Leaving the child, where the dull cresset shone, 

 With the dumb relics and his Qod alone. 

 As the trap-door fell suddenly, the stroke, 

 Sullen and harsh, his solemn reverie broke. 

 Where is he ? Barred within the dreadful womb 

 Of the cold enrth the living in the tomb! 

 The opened coffins showed Death's doings, sad, 

 The awful dust in damps and grave-mould clad, 

 Though near the haunt of busy, cheerful day, 

 He, to drear night and solitude the prey I 

 Must he be watcher with these corpses I Who 

 Can tell what sights may rise? Will reason then be true P 



Must he.-a blooming, laughter- loving ehfld.- 

 Be mated thusf-The thought was cruel, wild! 

 His knees together smote, as first, in fear. 

 He gated around his prison ; then a tsar 

 Sprang to his eyes in kind relief; and said 

 The little boy. " I will not be a/nU. 

 Wat ever (pint of the good man Icnov* 

 To injure children whom it /omul alone r" 

 And straight be taxed his memory, to supply 

 Stories and texts, to show be might rely 

 Most safely, humbly, on his Father's care, 

 Who hears a child's as well as prelate's prayer. 

 And thus he stood, on Whitefield's form his glance 

 In reverence fixed, and hoped deliverance. 



Meanwhile, the recreant teacher, where was be ? 

 Gone in effrontery to take his tea 

 With the lad's mother! Sapper done, be told 

 The feat that should display her son ss bold. 

 With eye indignant, and with words of flame, 

 How showers that mother's scorn, rebuke, and 4*vn* t 

 And bids him haste ! and hastes herself, to bring 

 Him from Death's realm, who knew not yet ita sting: 

 And yet believed, so well her son she knew, 

 The noblo boy would to himself be true : 

 He would sustain himself, and she would find 

 Him patient and possessed, she trusted well his mind. 

 The boy yet lives, and from that distant boor 



Dates much of truth that on his heart bath power; 



And chiefly this, whate'er o> wit is wed 

 To word of his, to reverent* the dead. 



XIV. FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. 

 [To be marked for Inflections by the student.] 



Mental energy has been equally diffused by sterner levellers taac 

 ever marched in the van of a revolution, the nature of man and the 

 providence of God. Native character, strength, and quickness of 

 mind are not of the number of distinctions and accomplishments 

 that human institutions can monopolise within a city's walls. In 

 quiet times they remain and perish iu the obscurity to which a false 

 organisation of society consigns them. In dangerous, convulsed, and 

 trying times, they spring up iu the fields, in the village hamlets, and 

 on the mountain tops, and teach the surprised favourites of human 

 law, that bright eyes, skilful hands, quick perceptions, firm purpose, 

 and brave hearts, are not the exclusive appanage of courts. 



Our popular institutions are favourable to intellectual improvement, 

 because their foundation is in dear nature. They do not consign the 

 greater portion of the social frame to torpidity and mortification. They 

 send out a vital nerve to every member of tho community, by which its 

 talent and power, great or small, are brought into living conjunction 

 tnd strong sympathy with the kindred intellect of the nation; and 

 every impression on every part vibrates, with electric rapidity, through 

 the whole. They encourage nature to perfect her work ; they make 

 education, the soul's nutriment, cheap; they bring up remote and 

 shrinking talent into the cheerful field of competition : in a thousand 

 ways they provide an audience for lips which nature has touched with 

 persuasion ; they put a lyre into the hands of genius ; they bestow on 

 all who deserve it, or seek it, the only patronage worth having, the 

 only patronage that ever struck out a spark of " celestial fire," tile- 

 patronage of fair opportunity. 



This is a day of improved education ; new systems of teaching are 

 devised; modes of instruction, choice of studies, adaptation of text- 

 books, the whole machinery of means, have been brought, in our day, 

 under severe revision. But were I to attempt to point out the most 

 efficacious and comprehensive improvement in education the engine 

 by which the greatest portion of mind could be brought and kept 

 under cultivation, the discipline which would reach furthest, sink 

 deopest, and cause the word of instruction not to spread over the 

 surface, like an artificial hue, carefully laid on, but to penetrate to 

 the heart and soul of its objects it would be popular institutions. 

 Give the people an object in promoting education, and the best 

 methods will infallibly be suggested by that instinctive ingenuity 

 of our nature, which provides means of great and precious end*. 

 Give the people an object in promoting education, and the worn 

 hand of labour will be opened to the hut farthing, that its children 

 may enjoy means deuied to itself. S. KvtrtU. 



LESSONS IN GEOMETRY. XXIII. 



THE PABABOLA THE HYPERBOLA. 



PBOBLEM LXIII. To describe a parabola, by jfawi? a number oj 

 points through which the curve may be traced, the abscissa and 

 ordinatc of any point in the curve being given. 



Let P (Fig. 91) be any point in the required parabola, and let 

 A represent ita ordinatc. and B it* abeoiMa, Through P draw the 



