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And is not Folly reigning now
O’er many a wisdom-written brow?

5. 'Tis Folly's flower, that homely one;

That universal guest
Makes every garden but a type

Of every human breast;
For though ye tend both mind and bower,
There's still a nook for Folly's flower.

6. Then gather roses for the bride;

Twine them in her bright hair;
But ere the wreath be done, O, let

The columbine be there.
For rest ye sure, that follies dwell
In many a heart that loveth well.

7. Gather ye laurels for the brow

Of every prince of song;
For all to whom philosophy

And wisdom do belong.
But ne'r forget to intertwine
A flower or two of columbine.

8. Forget it not; for even they,

The oracles of earth, 'Mid all their wealth of golden thoughts,

Their wisdom and their worth, Sometimes play pranks beneath the sky Would scarce become e'en such as I!

9. Weave ye an armful of that plant,

Choosing the darkest flowers ;
With that red, blood-dipped wreath, ye bring

The devastating powers
Of warrior, conqueror, or chief;
O, twine that full of Folly's leaf!

10. And do ye ask me, why this flower

Is fit for every brow?
Tell me but one, where folly ne'er

Hath dwelt, nor dwelleth now,
And I will then the laurel twine,
Unmingled with the columbine.



1. THERE is no country on the earth, where there is less of squalid poverty, and where the people generally enjoy more comfort and happiness, than in New England.

2. And what is the reason ? There is no other country in the world, where the people are so industrious — where all the people are engaged in some useful employment.

3. In New England, boys are set to work as soon as they are old enough to handle a hoe, an axe, or a spade. Every child has something to do, and it is not in the nature of a son of New England, be happy without employment.

4. When you find one of them educated, and rising to eminence in professional life, if you trace back his history, in most cases, you will find that, when a boy, he worked on his father's farm, or in his father's shop.

5. In no point in the whole course of his education, does the hydra-headed monster, “I can't," rise up and impede his progress — "I can't,” that sovereign arbiter in the idler's destiny, never prevents him from attempting any thing, however difficult, however laborious.

6. If a steamboat is to be built, if a factory is to be erected, or if a railroad is to be constructed,


the way

It spins,

“I can't” gets no chance to throw obstructions in

“ I can't” is thrust aside, where it must fold its hands and stare at vacancy.

7. “I will" is the sovereign arbiter of the Yankee's destiny; it invigorates his body, sharpens his intellect, and promotes cheerfulness. it weaves, it polishes, it beautifies, it adorns. 8. “I CAN'T?

" makes a torpid body, a vacant mind, a peevish disposition, a discontented spirit. It stops the spindle, obstructs the shuttle, destroys the file, and defaces all things within its reach.

9. “I will” expects much, aims high, attempts great things, grasps the Archimedean lever, cheers all, and in the end is successful. “I can't,” like the torpedo, benumbs every thing that comes within its touch, expects little, attempts less, and accomplishes nothing


1. THERE are several circumstances, which make the air take up water faster than it otherwise would, or which promote evaporation, as the philosophers call it. One is warmth.

2. If you warm a board or paper that is wet, or warm the air which lies over it, the moisture will evaporate much quicker. That is the reason why, when we want any thing to dry quick, we hold it to the fire.

3. Air can hold only a certain quantity of moistare, though warm air can hold more than cold. So, if we want air to take up as much water as possible, and as fast as possible, we must warm it.

4. Then, if we allow this warm air to take up as much water as it will hold, and afterwards cool

the air, there will be more water in the air than it can hold.

The surplus will fall down out of the air again, in large or small drops. This is the way that it comes to rain.

5. The air lying over the sea, ponds, and rivers, in summer becomes warm, and takes up as much water as warm air can hold. This air then rises up into the colder regions, or is moved by winds off to the north, and thus gets cooled. It is then no longer able to hold the moisture which it contains; and consequently this moisture will fall in drops of rain, or in hail, or in snow.

6. There is a phenomenon that takes place in houses, in the winter, that is just like this, in principle. In the daytime, when the room is warm, the air takes up moisture from our breaths, and from various other sources, until it has more than cold air can contain.

7. Then, in the night, the cold air, outside of the windows, cools the glass, and, through the glass, the air in the room which touches the glass; and so the moisture leaves the air, and attaches itself to the glass, and makes the beautiful frostwork so often seen.

8. So with our breaths, in a cold, frosty morning; the air which we breathe, when it comes up from the lungs, is warm, and takes up a great deal of moisture from all the passages which it comes through. Then, when it comes out into the cold, it is suddenly cooled, and cannot hold so much; and so the surplus becomes visible in little drops. 9. That vapory appearance we

see in a cold morning, like a little fog, is formed of little drops of water, too small for us to distinguish one by one, though all together they make a sort of haze. But it vanishes pretty quick.

10. The little drops spread about in the thin air, and are re-dissolved ; that is, the particles that


compose them, are taken up again by the air, and so they disappear.

11. The evaporation of water is going on all the time, from all ponds, and lakes, and seas, and riv

from the ground, the leaves of trees, the brooks— from all vessels of water, or watery liquids - and from all wet things, of every kind; and thus the air is continually receiving new supplies.

12. Then there is another way by which water is turned into vapor, besides being taken up by the atmosphere ; that is, by boiling it, and thus changing it into steam.

13. What you see coming out of the nose of the teakettle is not strictly steam, though commonly so called. Real steam is invisible.

14. If you heat water very hot indeed, it turns into a kind of hot, scalding air, which is really steam. This steam is, in fact, water spread out, as it were, very thin, and pressing out in every direction, just like air, only it is all composed of particles of water; and as soon as you let it cool, it turns back to water again.

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1. So there are two ways of getting water off from an iron which is wet. The first way is, to leave the iron out in the air, and the air will gradually take all the water up, by its attraction for water; and if you warm the iron or the air a little, the air will take it up all the faster.

2. But the second way is, to put the iron over the fire, and heat it very hot indeed; then the water will turn at once into steam, and


off from the iron, whether there is any air over it or not.

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