unfastening the links which hold things together, and in laying aside what is useful, to be sent to the blood divested of the refuse. The stomach was too feeble in your infancy to have encountered the work it has to do now. It is for this reason that God devised for the benefit of little children that excellent nourishment-milkwhich contains, all ready for use, every ingredient the blood wants; and is almost, in fact, blood ready made.

Only think, my child, what you owe to her who gave you this nourishment! It was actually her blood she was giving you; her blood which entered into your veins, and which wrought within you in the wonderful way which I have been describing. Other people gave you sugar-plums, kisses, and toys; but she gave you the teeth which crunched the sugar-plums, the flesh of the rosy cheeks which got the kisses, and of the little hands which handled the toys. If ever you can forget this, you are ungrateful indeed!

Now, beware of going on to ask me how we know that there are so many sorts of things in milk, or I shall end by getting angry. Question after question; why, you might drive me in this way to the end of the world, and we should never reach the point we are aiming at. We have already traveled far away from the teeth, concerning which I wanted to talk to you at this time, but our lesson is nearly over and we have scarcely said a word about them! One cannot learn everything at once. Upon the point in question you must take my word; and as you may believe, I would not run the risk of being contradicted before you, by those who have authority on the subject.

Let it suffice you, for to-day, to have gained some idea

of the manner in which the materials which constitute our bodies are manufactured within us. We have got at this by talking of the teeth; to-morrow, it may be the saliva, the next day something else. What I have now told you will be of use all the way through, and I do not regret the time we have given to the subject. If you have understood that well, the time has not been lost.

LETTER V.

THE TEETH (continued.)

My thoughts return involuntarily to the subject I last explained to you, my dear child, and I find that I have a great deal to say about it still.

You see now, I hope, that we have something else to consult besides a dainty taste when we are eating; and that if we are to work to any good purpose we must think a little about this poor blood; who has so much to do, and who often finds himself so much at fault, when we send him nothing but barley-sugar and biscuits for his support. It is not with such stuff as that, as you may well imagine, that he can be enabled to answer satisfactorily to the constant demands of his little work. men, and we expose him to the risk of getting into disgrace with them, if we furnish him with no better provisions.

And who is the sufferer? Not I who am giving you this information, most certainly.

Now, when children hesitate about eating plain food, and fly from beef to rush at dessert, they act as a man would do who should begin to build by giving his workmen reeds instead of beams, and squares of gingerbread instead of bricks. A pretty house he would have of it; --just think!

On the contrary, what your mother asks you to cat,

my dear little epicure, is sure to be something which contains the indispensable supplies for which your blood is craving; for people knew all about this by experience long before they could explain the why and the wherefore. But now that you are so much better informed than even the most learned men were a century ago, pouting and wry faces at table are no longer excusable, and I should be sadly ashamed of you if I should hear you continued to make them.

And this is what I was more particularly thinking of just now, when I took up my pen again. No doubt it is very amusing to be able to look clearly into one's frame, and see what goes on inside, but the amusement anything affords is the least important part of it; you have begun to find this out already, and you will find it out more and more every day. What seems to me one of the great advantages of the study we have begun together is, that at every step you take you will meet with the most practical and useful instruction, as well as the most unanswerable reasons for doing what your parents ask you to do every day.

To obey without knowing why is certainly possible, and may be done happily enough. But we obey more readily and easily when we understand the reason for doing so; and a duty which one can satisfy oneself about, forces itself upon one as a sort of necessity. And what can throw a stronger light on our duties than a thorough acquaintance with ourselves?

It is upwards of two thousand two hundred years ago (and that is not yesterday, you must own!) since one of the greatest minds of the world-Socrates-never forget that name-taught his disciples, as a foundation precept, this apparently simple maxim, "Know thyself." He meant this, it is true, in a much higher sense than we

are aiming at in these conversations of ours, but his rule is so practical, that although you have only as yet taken a mere peep into one small corner of self-knowledge, you find, if I am not much mistaken, that your heart has beaten once or twice rather faster than it did before. Was I wrong, in saying from the beginning, that we be come better as we grow in knowledge? Is it not true that you have felt more tenderly than ever towards her who nourished you with her milk, since I explained to you the value of milk; and that you have kissed your mother's hand all the more lovingly since you heard my history of the hand? To tell you the truth, if you had not done so, I should have been dissatisfied both with you and myself.

And wait! While we are talking thus, another thought has come into my head about hands and nurses, which I must tell you of.

There is something of the nurse, my child, in those who take the best fruits of their intellect and heart, and transform them, as it were, into milk, in order that your infant soul may receive a nourishment it will be able to digest without too much effort. In this way their very soul enters into you, and it is but fair that you should reward them as they deserve. Young as you are, too, you have a recompense in your power: one more acceptable even than Academic prizes—of which it is indispensable not to be too avaricious-you can give them your love.

Besides, it is not only hands but heads that are at work for you, and of these many more than you suppose; and your debt of gratitude is as much due to the one as to the other.

Perhaps my first letter may have led you to suppose that I was inclined to laugh at what I called learned