INTRODUCTION.

SOME years ago I thought myself a very clever little fellow, standing in need of much less instruction and advice than others of my age, and certainly deserving of nothing in the shape of correction or even of reproof. I was wonderfully proud of my knowledge; — never ashamed of my ignorance; vain of myself altogether; so that, I am afraid, my friends thought me, what I really was, an intolerably conceited little man.

I became extremely fond of the notion, which I had somehow acquired, that old folks in the country could not possibly be half

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so wise and clever as young folks in town. It was, therefore, with high indignation, as well as surprise, that, when my grandmother Granger came to see us one Christmas, I overheard her say, that my cousin Philip, who had never been to London in his life, was worth a hundred of me at book or business; and that she knew I had not sense enough to drive a calf to market. To make the matter worse, my own parents assented to the truth of this, with a sigh; and it was finally arranged that Philip should come and spend a month with us in London, that I might improve by the pattern of his intelligence and good conduct.

I went soon afterwards to my mother and cried about it; alleging that I certainly could read, write, talk, and do, as well as my country cousin Philip.

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Well, well, Frederick," she said, "I hope