listen to Harry, who, for his part, was anxious to become a chemist, and who had been struck with the idea of the happiness of the person who possessed a laboratory, and could try chemical experiments. His father told him that it was not necessary to have a laboratory and a great apparatus for this purpose, as one of the most ingenious and successful of chemists and philosophers has observed. Many most useful and excellent experiments can be tried in an easy and simple

manner.

Here his father was interrupted by an exclamation from Lucy, at the sight of a tall finger-post, on one of the arms of which she observed, To BIRMINGHAM.

Harry and Lucy anxiously watched to see whether the driver turned down this road, as they had both an ardent desire to go to Birmingham to see some of the manufactures, of which they had heard most interesting accounts. Lucy's astonishment had been excited by some scissors which Mr. Frankland had shown her, which she had tried, and which, though not of the most beautiful polish, cut sufficiently well for all common purposes, and yet, oh, wonderful! Mr. Frankland told her, that this pair was one of a dozen which he had bought for one shilling!

Harry's curiosity had been raised by hearing of

a knife with five hundred blades, which he had been told was to be seen at Birmingham.

The knife came first to his recollection; an instant afterwards, however, he said, "But there are things there a thousand times better worth seeing than that."

"Oh father!" cried he, turning to his father, "I hope we shall go to Birmingham, that we may see the grand works at Soho, Mr. Boulton's. I read an account of them while we were at Mr. Frankland's in one of the notes to the Botanic Garden,' when you were looking for the Barberini vase, Lucy. It said that there is a magnificent apparatus for coining, all worked by one steamengine, which cuts halfpence out of sheets of copper, and at one stroke stamps both the faces and edge of the money."

"Yes, I remember your reading it to me," said Lucy; and it was said that four boys of ten or twelve years old, no bigger, mamma, than Harry, could, b, the help of this machinery, worked by that great giant enchanter, the steam-engine, make-how many guineas do you think, in one hour? thirty thousand, mamma. Was not it, Harry?"

"Yes, thirty thousand," repeated Harry; “and, besides this, it is said that the machine keeps an exact account."

"An unerring account was the very word," said

Lucy. "It keeps an unerring account of all the money it coins. Papa, I do hope you are going to Birmingham."

Her father told her, that he hoped to show them all these wonders of mechanism, of which they had read in prose and poetry, at some future time. For the present, however, he must disappoint them. He could not go to Birmingham, he must pursue the road to Bristol. Even on their account, he added, addressing himself to their mother, he did not choose now to go to Birmingham. The general principles of a few great inventions, he hoped, had been clearly understood, and fixed in their minds, by what they had already seen. He was glad to find that they had taken pleasure in following the history of the progress and consequences of those noble discoveries; he would therefore take care not to confuse their minds, by showing them the details of small ingenious contrivances, in the Birmingham workshops and manufactories, or by dazzling their eyes with the sight of more than Arabian Tale magnificence, in the show rooms of "the great toy-shop of Europe."

Harry and Lucy had not been so much spoiled by their father's and mother's indulgence, that they could not bear disappointment. One, sigh Lucy was heard to give for the great toy-shop of Europe. Harry suppressed his rising sigh; for,

since the steam-engine coiner was not to be seen, he cared little for the rest. They both agreed "that papa knew best."

And this was not with them a mere phrase, said with a look of hypocrisy, but with honest faces and hearts, and firm belief from experience of the truth of what they said.

56

YOUNG TRAVELLERS.

"WHAT is the name of the town to which we are to come to next, mamma?" said Lucy. "Bridgenorth, my dear."

"Bridgenorth!" repeated Lucy; "I am sure there is something I have heard about Bridgenorth; but I cannot remember what it is."

"I know what it is, I believe," said Harry; "a famous leaning tower."

"Yes," said Lucy, "that is the very thing! I recollect reading about it in my History of England, which said, that this tower of Bridgenorth was not always leaning: formerly, a great while ago, it was upright and like any other tower, but it was shaken from the foundation when it was bombarded, during some siege in the time of the civil wars, was not it, mamma? I read it to you and it has hung over in the same leaning state ever since, looking as if it would fall, and yet not falling. I am glad we are to pass through Bridgenorth, that we may see it with our own eyes."

"Yes, I shall like very much to see it," said Harry.