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and say, "Why, I bought it for a half a dollar, and it cuts well; that's all I know about it."

2. Stop your whittling a moment, my young friend, and let us look into the subject a little. A knife does not come by nature ready-made. "But the iron does," you say. Yes: iron is found in the earth, but very seldom pure, or fit for the blacksmith and the manufacturer. It is mixed with clay or some other substance.

3. This must be separated from it by intense heat: no ordinary fire will answer the purpose. So charcoal is put into a furnace with the iron ore and some limestone; then the charcoal is lighted at the lower end, and wind blown in also at the same end by powerful machinery, and the great heat melts the whole.

4. The iron, being heavier than the other matter, settles to the bottom, where the workman, at the right time lets it out. It runs like water through the hole he has prepared for it into furrows made in sand, where it cools. These pieces or lumps are called cast iron; but this must have other processes before it is fit for making a knife.

5. Cast iron can not be worked by the hammer, or sharpened to a nice cutting edge; it must be made into malleable iron for that purpose. This latter is a kind of iron, which, instead of melting in the fire, will soften, and thus allow itself to be hammered into the desired shape, or welded together smoothly.

6. But when the iron is made malleable by being heated and stirred and beaten, or rolled even, then it

is not nice enough for a first-rate knife. It is only iron; and you want your knife made of steel, so that it will hear a keen edge without either breaking or bending. To get that, we must change our material again.

7. To this end the workman must cover up his iron in powdered charcoal, and again give it a red heat, that it may get the property upon which the keenness of the knife depends. But he must be careful that the heat be not too great, or too long continued, as then the steel could not be hammered or welded.

8. And now the steel must be tempered. While very hot it is plunged into cold water, and kept there till it is quite cool. Then the workman brightens it, and, laying it upon a piece of hot iron, holds it to the fire till the color shows him it is in a proper state to be again plunged into water; and now it is hardened enough to be hammered into shape.

9. Then the knife-grinder takes the knife upon his immense wheels, which are turned by water or steam, and move so swiftly that they almost seem to stand still. The grinding and polishing is quickly done by the aid of machinery. But you have only the blade of the knife now; and the handle is yet to be made, and riveted on.

10. That handle may be fashioned from the tusk of an elephant, the horn of a buffalo or an ox, the wood of the cocoa-tree, the shell of a pearl oyster or a turtle, or India-rubber; or it may, like the blade, be made of metal. But it all requires labor and

skill; and your knife, my boy, costs more than you thought.

Is iron found ready for use? What is it mixed with? How can it be separated? Is it then fit to make a knife? What is malleable iron? Will that make a nice knife? How is it turned into steel? How is the steel tempered? How is the knife ground and polished? What must still be done to it? What can the handle be made of? What does all this require?

LESSON LXXIV.

school
length stud-y
blue re-lieve

com-mence

his-to-ry
fore-fath-er
mis-for-tune

A-mer-i-ca
a-rith-me-tic

ge-og-ra-phy

A POOR MEMORY.

\LLEN, what do you study at school this term?

and arithmetic, as I

did last term; and I have now commenced the history of the United States.

Aunt Mary. Have you, indeed? Then I suppose you can tell me when America was discovered by Columbus.

Ellen looked rather puzzled, but at length said she believed it was in 1592. "Oh, no, Ellen!" said her sister Sarah, who was sitting by, "it was in 1492."

Aunt Mary. In what year did the forefathers land at Plymouth.

"In 1720," said Ellen, with the air of one who had drawn a bow at a venture, and hoped the arrow would hit the mark.

Sarah. Wrong again, Ellen: it was 1620.

Ellen. I can not remember all those hard names and dates; it is out of the question. I wish I had a good memory; but I can not help it.

Aunt Mary. Then you have a poor memory, Ellen. I was not aware of this before, and am very sorry to hear it; for, as there are so many things which it is both pleasant and useful to remember, it is certainly a great misfortune.

When the children came home after school, their aunt said to Ellen, "Do you remember when your aunt Taylor and your cousin Emily called here? It was in the fall, I think."

Ellen. No, aunt, you are mistaken. It was in December. I remember well; for it was the week before Christmas. Cousin Emily wore a beautiful bracelet, and I remember wishing that some friend would give me one just like it for a Christmas present.

Aunt Mary. Can you remember how she was dressed?

Ellen. Yes, perfectly. She wore a scarlet merino dress and blue sack, a straw hat, trimmed with cherry color and lined with pink, and a pair of blue gaiters.

Aunt Mary. Can you tell how your aunt was dressed?

Ellen. She wore a black silk dress, and black velvet mantilla, and a shirred hat. I can think just how they both looked.

Sarah. You can remember more than I can; I am

sure I could not have mentioned a single article they had on.

Aunt Mary. It relieves my mind to find that Ellen has a good memory sometimes. I thought, if her memory was as poor as she represented it to be this morning, it was a great misfortune. But, my dear, if you can remember when your aunt and cousin called, and how they were dressed, why can you not remember when America was discovered? geography, an account of the

earth and its places. arithmetic, the art of using

figures.

air, manner.

December, the last month in

the year.
venture, uncertainty.

LESSON LXXV.

LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

THE

1. HE breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound co
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed,

coast,

2. And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New-England shore.

3. Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of stirring drums,

And the trumpet that sings of fame ;

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