I 
 
 9
 
 THE 
 
 YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 BY THE REV. T. H. GALLAUDET, 
 
 LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE AMERICAN ASYLUM FOR THE 
 DEAF AND DUMB. 
 
 THOC MADE THKM ALL. PSALM CIV. 24. 
 
 i&eprintcfc from tfje Original American 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 EDMUND FRY AND SON, 
 
 BISHOPSGATE STREET WITHOUT. 
 1835.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 It is believed that good service may be rendered to 
 many, by republishing here, this concise and impres- 
 sive view of some of the evidences of NATURAL 
 THEOLOGY ; combining, in a simple and attractive 
 form, much and varied useful knowledge, with the 
 elements of SACRED TRUTH. The Author has es- 
 tablished, at home, a high reputation for benevolent 
 and skilful labour in educating the deaf and dumb ; 
 and he has learned, by experience, what gentle patience, 
 and what clear and precise explanation, must be used 
 to convey instruction to, and to fix correct ideas in, 
 minds not yet unfolded, nor imbued with knowledge. 
 
 The judicious writer has done no more than he 
 professed to do. Natural Theology is, in this book,
 
 IV PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 his end and aim ; but lie mentions Revealed Theology 
 as a more advanced division of sacred study. He 
 gratefully acknowledges the well-head and fountain of 
 divine instruction ; and points to the inspired word of 
 Scripture, as the visible channel by which it is conveyed 
 to man. And we trust that they, who have been made 
 familiar with our pages, will be well disposed, opening 
 the sacred volume, reverently to admit, that, " In the 
 beginning GOD created the heavens and the earth." 
 A foundation thus laid; the mind thus prepared ; 
 hope is given of a progressive advance in understanding 
 and knowledge, until the saving mysteries of gospel 
 truth are happily received and established. 
 
 London, August, 1832.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 SOME may deem it almost unnecessary, 
 to go into an argument, with children 
 and youth, to prove to them, that there 
 is a God ; a truth which seems, too often, 
 to be taken for granted, not only in the 
 first stages, but through the whole course., 
 of their religious instruction : how wisely, 
 may admit of very serious doubts. 
 
 It is a truth on which all the doctrines 
 and precepts of religion rest; and, just 
 in proportion as the belief of it is weak, 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 or obscure, will all the other truths of 
 religion fail to have their full effect upon 
 the heart and the life, 
 
 This, like other truths, is founded on 
 evidence ; the more complete, therefore, 
 and satisfactory this evidence is ; the 
 more thoroughly it is considered and 
 examined ; the more it is made to form 
 a part of the customary trains of thought 
 and feeling ; the more distinct and vivid 
 the conceptions are, which it produces in 
 the mind ; the more uniform and ope- 
 rative will be the belief of the truth which 
 this evidence is intended to establish. 
 
 This we find to be the case, even with 
 regard to those truths which are the most 
 common, and which receive the uniform 
 assent of every intelligent mind. 
 
 For the practical belief of truth is very
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 much strengthened by a knowledge of 
 the nature and certainty of its evidence, 
 and by the habit of frequently recurring 
 to this evidence. 
 
 After attending to the various, and 
 interesting, and overwhelming proofs of 
 design, contrivance, and skill, in all that 
 we see, within us, and around us, who 
 can fail to have the existence and agency 
 of God impressed upon his understanding 
 and heart, with new freshness and force ? 
 
 Let these proofs form a part of the 
 early associations of thought and feeling, 
 among children and youth ; and, from the 
 well known laws of the human mind, the 
 important truth which they establish, will 
 so blend itself with the habitudes of the 
 
 soul, that God will be seen in all his works 
 
 > 
 
 and his presence felt in the exhibitions
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 which He is continually making to us, of 
 his power, wisdom, and goodness. 
 
 Besides, atheism, theoretical and prac- 
 tical, is on the alert, to diffuse its baneful 
 influence. Already, in our own country, 
 we have seen it attempting to make pro- 
 selytes. Debating societies, public lec- 
 tureSj books, tracts, and newspapers, have 
 been the instruments employed for its 
 propagation. What parent can tell, how 
 soon his child may be exposed to this 
 awful delusion ? Who that knows the 
 waywardness of the human heart ; the 
 force of temptation ; the insidious allure- 
 ments of vice ; the gradual encroachment 
 which sneers and ridicule, on the one 
 hand, and sceptical queries and doubts, 
 on the other, often make upon the consci- 
 ence, especially when this conscience
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 relief from the wounds that guilt 
 has inflicted upon it ; who that con- 
 siders these thing's, can fail to tremble, 
 at the exposure of our youth to this 
 contaminating influence of infidelity and 
 atheism ? 
 
 It has, already, in not a few instances, 
 withered and blasted the fondest hopes 
 of the anxious father and mother. If it 
 does not always destroy, it may often 
 paralyze, religious belief. 
 
 And, if the faith of the youth is secure 
 against its attacks, how much good this 
 very faith may do, in rescuing others. 
 If it is thoroughly furnished with evi- 
 dence, and arguments, and proofs, its 
 triumphs, both in private and in public, 
 may save a companion from ruin, and 
 hasten the downfall of this bitter enemy 
 of God and man.
 
 For these reasons,, the author can- 
 not but think, that the evidences of 
 the existence of God, are too much over- 
 looked in the early, religious education of 
 children and youth. He could wish, for 
 one, that they might form a part of the 
 regular course of instruction in Sunday 
 Schools, and of the religious reading in 
 families. The subject may be made 
 deeply interesting. Many of the facts 
 connected with it, are as really entertain- 
 ing as most of the incidents in the books 
 of religious fiction, with which children 
 have been so extensively supplied. They 
 are vastly more instructive ; and tend, 
 too, to form a taste for useful knowledge, 
 which, if confirmed into a habit, is of 
 unspeakable value. 
 
 The author will only add, that having
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 intended what he has written for quite 
 young persons, he has gone into a mi- 
 nuteness of analysis, and a specification 
 of details, which, his own experience has 
 
 fully convinced him, is the only sure 
 
 
 mode of conveying distinct ideas to those, 
 
 whose powers of generalizing are but, 
 as yet, very imperfectly cultivated and 
 developed. 
 


 
 YOUNG READERS. 
 
 I DARE say, many of you who are not 
 more than eight, or ten years, of age, 
 will be able to understand this book; 
 particularly, if you are very attentive in 
 reading it, and if you, always, ask some 
 older person to explain to you a few things, 
 which, at first, may be difficult to be 
 understood. 
 
 Those who are a few years older will, 
 I think, find no difficulty at all in under- 
 standing it. 
 
 You may not, however, know exactly
 
 the meaning of the term Natural Theo- 
 logy, which forms a part of the title of 
 the book. I will endeavour to explain it 
 to you. 
 
 Theology is an English word, made by 
 putting two Greek words together, with 
 a little alteration. Theo comes from the 
 Greek word, Theos, which means God ; 
 and logy, from the Greek word, logos, 
 which means, a discourse, or speaking, 
 or teaching, about any ming. 
 
 All that is known about God arranged 
 in order, so that it can be taught clearly, 
 and distinctly is called Theology. 
 
 In the Bible, God has made known to 
 men a great deal about Himself, which 
 they did not know before, and which they 
 could not have learned in any other way ; 
 or, what means the same thing, He has
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 revealed the knowledge of Himself to 
 them, in the Bible. 
 
 The Bible is a revelation from God; 
 and from what it teaches us about Him, 
 \ve gain that knowledge which, when ar- 
 ranged in order, so that it can be taught 
 clearly and distinctly, is called revealed 
 Theology. 
 
 Natural Theology is not learned from 
 the Bible. It is all that can be known 
 about God, merely by examining the 
 beings and things which He has made, 
 without the aid of revealed Theology. 
 
 The beings and things which God has 
 made, and causes to be, or live, or grow, 
 are called natural, to distinguish them 
 from the things that men make. 
 
 The things that men make, are called 
 works of art ; but all that God has made
 
 we call the works of Nature. By ex- 
 amining and studying the works of Nature, 
 we can see that there must be a God, who 
 made and preserves., all beings and things ; 
 and we can learn many things about Him, 
 which will show us his great power, and 
 wisdom, and goodness. 
 
 All the knowledge which we can thus 
 gain about God, is called Natural Theo- 
 logy ; and it is this knowledge, my young 
 friends, which I wish, in some degree, to 
 give you in this book that I have written 
 for you. I hope you will be so much in- 
 terested in gaining this knowledge, that 
 you will seek for more of it, as you grow 
 older, in larger books which have been 
 written on the same subject, but which it 
 might now be difficult for you to under- 
 stand.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I have written the book in dialogues, 
 between a lady, whom I call Mrs. Stan- 
 hope, and her son, Robert. If any of 
 you have read ''''the Child's book on the 
 Soul," it is the same Robert who is men- 
 tioned there, only, in this book, he is sup- 
 posed to be a few years older. 
 
 That you may all make a great im- 
 provement in useful knowledge, and es- 
 pecially in the knowledge of God, and 
 of your duty, and learn both to be good, 
 and to do good, is the sincere wish of 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 ox 
 
 NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 MOTHER. Did you ever make any thing, Robert ? 
 
 ROBERT. I made a kite, once, mother, and it flew 
 very well. Uncle John showed me how to make it. 
 
 M. Out of what did you make it ? 
 
 R. Out of paper, and sticks, and thread 
 
 M. How did you put them together ? 
 
 R. With some paste ; and, then, I let the kite 
 dry in the sun, and put the tail on, and fixed the 
 twine to it, and it was all ready to fly. 
 
 M. How long did it take you to make it ? 
 
 R. I should think, almost two hours, mother. 
 I spoiled one or two, before I got right. I think I 
 could make one now, a good deal quicker. 
 
 M. Do you remember that beautiful large kite 
 which the boys raised, in front of the school house 
 last spring ? 
 
 B
 
 2 THE YOUTH S BOOK 
 
 R. Yes, it was as tall as a man. It took several 
 boys to hold it, when it was high up in the air. 
 
 M. Do you know who made it ? 
 
 R. Some one of the boys, I suppose, mother ; 
 but I do not know which. 
 
 M. Are you sure, that one of the boys made it ? 
 
 R. I think so ; but perhaps some mau made it, 
 it was so large and strong. 
 
 M. Are you sure, that any body made it ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother, just as sure as I am, that / 
 made the little kite that we were talking about. 
 Somebody must have cut out the paper ; and cut th3 
 sticks right, and tied them together ; and put the 
 thread round ; and pasted the paper ; and fixed on 
 the tail ; or the kite never would have been made. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and the tail must have been 
 made just long and heavy enough, or the kite would 
 not have flown. 
 
 R. I remember, mother, I made the tail to my 
 kite, too short, at first, and as soon as it got a little 
 way up into the air, it began to go round and round, 
 and fell down to the ground. It would not fly at 
 all, till I made the tail longer. 
 
 M. I suppose, Robert, that some boys have made 
 kites so often, that they can make a very good kite 
 at once, without any mistake. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, I am pretty sure that / co'uld. 
 
 M. If you could, my dear, and make it quick, 
 and exactly right, so that it would fly very well, 
 you would be said to be skilful in making a kite.
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 3 
 
 And as it flew finely in the air, it would show your 
 skill in making it. 
 
 R. Mother, it takes most skill to fix the tail. 
 
 M. I suppose so. And you have to think before 
 hand, do you not, of what shape you will make the 
 kite ; and then, how much paper it will take ; and 
 how many sticks there must be ; and how you will 
 tie them together ; so as to make the kite of just 
 the shape and size that you want ? 
 
 R. Oh, yes, mother. I have to think all about 
 that. For, you know, we can make kites of many 
 different sizes and shapes. I should have to think 
 a great deal before hand, how to make a kite like 
 that tall one which the boys had. 
 
 M. Yes; and, perhaps, you would have to get 
 your uncle John, to think for you. 
 
 R. I think I should, mother. 
 
 M. Well, if your uncle John should think before 
 hand how to t make the kite, and tell you how to go 
 to work, and do exactly every thing that ought to 
 be done ; he would contrive the kite. When it was 
 done, it would show your skill, in making it ; and it 
 would show his contrivance, in thinking before hand 
 liow it should be made. 
 
 R. Mother, I can contrive a little kite. Will 
 you let me make one this afternoon ? 
 
 M. Yes; after you have said your lessons. What 
 will you make the kite for ? 
 
 R. I will make it to fly, mother. What else
 
 4 THE YOUTH S BOOK 
 
 should I make it for ? You do not think, I would 
 make a kite just to look at. 
 
 M. I did not know, Robert, but you would make 
 one to show me that you could contrive a kite, and 
 that you had skill to make one. 
 
 II. But how could I show that, mother, if the 
 kite would not fly well ? No ; I should make the 
 kite on purpose to fly. And, indeed, I was not 
 thinking at all about making it, to show you my 
 contrivance or skill. 
 
 M. Your purpose, or design, then, in making the 
 kite, would be, that it might fly well. 
 
 What was your design, in making that little boat, 
 the other day ? What did you make it for ? 
 
 R. My design was, that it might swim in the 
 small pond, at the back of the garden. 
 
 M. Did you make it as you do a kite ? 
 
 R. Oh, no, mother. You know a boat swims in 
 water, but a kite flies in the air. 
 
 M. Which did you have to contrive most about, 
 in making, the boat, or the kite ? 
 
 R. I think, the kite, mother, for the tail troubled 
 me a good deal, before I got it exactly right. 
 
 M. What if you should get your uncle John to 
 make a boat large enough to carry you ; and then 
 fasten the string of the kite to it, when it was high 
 up in the air ; and so the kite draw you in the boat, 
 quite across the pond. How prettily you would sail. 
 
 R. Yes, mother. But the kite would have to be
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. . 
 
 a very large one, and uncle John would have to 
 think a long time to contrive it, and to be very skil- 
 ful in fixing it all right, so as to make the boat go. 
 
 M. There is a little fish, which is a great deal 
 more curious than such a boat and kite would be. 
 
 R. Do tell me about it, mother. What is it called ? 
 
 M. It is called a nautilus. Nautilus is a Latin 
 word, the language of ancient Rome, and it means, 
 a sailor, or more exactly, a little sailor. 
 
 R. Why ? does this little fish sail in a boat ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and it lives in the same boat in 
 which it swims and sails. 
 
 R. What is the boat made of? 
 
 M. The boat is a thin shell, round and hollow. 
 It is as thin as paper, and very light, so that it will 
 float on the top of the water, as your little boat 
 does. The shell is a part of the fish ; and inside of 
 the shell is the living part, soft and slimy, like a 
 snail. It is a good deal softer than the inside, and 
 living part, of an oyster. 
 
 When this little fish wishes to sail, it raises up 
 two short arms which it has ; and between these 
 arms, there is something stretched, very thin like a 
 web, which the wind blows, and so away it sails on 
 the top of the water. 
 
 It has, also, two other arms, which it lets down 
 into the water, one on each side of the shell ; and it 
 paddles with them; and makes itself go along faster; 
 and turns itself with them, and goes one way or 
 another, as it chooses. 
 
 B 2
 
 6 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 You know if you fill your little boat with water, 
 it will sink. So, when the nautilus, about which I 
 have been telling you, wishes to go down into the 
 deep water, it first draws in its two arms that have 
 the sail between them, and the other two that it 
 paddles with. Then it has a way of drawing in the 
 water, and filling all the inside of the shell, which 
 makes it so heavy, that it sinks away down to the 
 bottom. 
 
 When it wishes to rise again, it throws out the 
 water through the little holes of which its arms are 
 full, and makes itself light, and soon it rises, and 
 keeps rising, till it reaches the top of the water. 
 
 When the weather is pleasant, and the water 
 smooth, the people that are in the ships on the great 
 ocean, often see a great many of these little shell- 
 fish, or sailors in their boats, with their sails up, 
 and sailing all about, as happy as can be. But if 
 the wind blows hard, or any thing disturbs them, 
 they take in their sails, and draw in their arms, and 
 fill themselves with water, and away they go, down 
 into the deep ocean, and are not seen again for 
 some time. 
 
 R. Mother, I never heard of such a curious 
 thing before. It is, indeed, a great deal more curi- 
 ous than a boat would be, large enough to carry 
 me, with a kite fixed to it, so that I could sail 
 across the pond. How large is the nautilus ? 
 
 M. A gentleman who had seen one, told me, 
 that it was about as large as a bowl which he could
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 hold in his two hands. But it was not shaped like 
 a bowl. 
 
 Here is a picture of one, as it appears when its 
 
 sail and arms are all drawn inside of the shell. I 
 could not find a true picture of one as it appears 
 when it is sailing. 
 
 R. Oh ! I wish I had a little nautilus, mother. 
 
 M. Suppose you ask your uncle John to make 
 you one ; he knows how to make a great many 
 curious things. 
 
 R. He could not make one, mother. He would 
 not know what to make the shell of. 
 
 M. Suppose somebody should give him the shell 
 of a nautilus. Could he not make the other parts, 
 and put them inside of it ? 
 
 R. Perhaps he might make something like the 
 sail, mother. But how could he make the two 
 little arms that carry the sail, and the two arms 
 that paddle, and make them stretch themselves out, 
 and draw themselves in ? Besides, the little nauti-
 
 8 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 lus is alive. Uncle John, if he was to make some- 
 thing almost exactly like the nautilus, could not 
 make it live, so as to move itself about, and go 
 down under the water, and rise up again, just as it 
 chooses. 
 
 M. Suppose your uncle John had never seen a 
 nautilus, or heard about one ; and should make 
 something almost exactly like one ; and fix some 
 little wheels inside, like those inside of a watch, 
 and have a spring to make the wheels go ; and, 
 then, wind it up with a key, and put it on the water ; 
 and it should raise up its sail, and work with its 
 paddles, and sail away, for some time, a good deal 
 as a nautilus does. 
 
 Would you not wonder at your uncle John's 
 contrivance and at his skill too ? 
 
 R. I should, indeed, mother. But do you sup- 
 pose, that any body has contrivance and skill enough, 
 to make such a little nautilus ? 
 
 M. When you was in the steam-boat, Robert, 
 you was in something like a great nautilus. Do 
 you not remember, how many, many wheels there 
 were, and iron things that moved up and down, and 
 many different ways ? 
 
 I showed you the wooden wheels, like paddles, 
 on each side of the boat, going round and round in 
 the water, and told you, that it was the other wheels 
 that made them go, and move the boat along. 
 
 It must have taken a great deal of contrivance 
 and skill, to make a steam-boat ; and I think the
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 man that contrived the steam-boat, might also con- 
 trive a little nautilus, with wheels inside of it, to 
 sail on the water. 
 
 R. You have forgotten, mother, that the steam- 
 boat did not hoist any sail up, as the nautilus does. 
 I think, that part of the little nautilus would be 
 very difficult to contrive. And, then, I do not be- 
 lieve any body could have contrivance and skill 
 enough, to make it take in its sail, and its arms, and 
 fill itself with water; and go down to the bottom, 
 and afterwards, come up again. 
 
 It would puzzle uncle John, and every body 
 else, even the man that contrived the steam-boat, 
 to do that. 
 
 M. Well, I think it would, Robert. And for 
 any body to make a live nautilus, you know, that 
 would be impossible. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and / am astonished at the won- 
 derful contrivance and skill which we see in the 
 nautilus ! 
 
 M. So am I, my son. The more I think of it, 
 the more I wonder at it. 
 
 If you was to live a thousand years ; and study 
 ever so much ; and make thousands and thousands 
 of curious things ; you never would have contri- 
 vance and skill enough, to make any thing so won- 
 derful as a living nautilus. 
 
 R. Mother, nobody can make a living thing, that 
 will move of itself. 
 
 M. That is true, Robert. But, it is almost time
 
 10 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 for us to stop talking. I wish, however, to ask 
 you, first, one or two questions. 
 
 You said, that you would make a little kite, on 
 purpose to fly, and I told you, that it would be your 
 design, in making it, to have it fly. 
 
 If you had seen a nautilus out of the water, 
 without ever having seen it before, or heard any 
 thing about it, do you think you could tell what its 
 different parts were designed for ? 
 
 R. I think, I could, mother. The shell would 
 look so like a little boat ; and there would be some- 
 thing so like a sail ; and the two little paddles, one 
 on each side ; that I am sure, I should think it was to 
 go and move on the water. I should know it would 
 not be, to fly in the air, or to crawl on the ground. 
 
 M. And, if you should see it hoist up its little 
 sail, and put out, and move, its little arms, like 
 paddles : you would feel quite certain, that the 
 design was, that it should sail about on the top of 
 the water would you not ? 
 
 R, I should, mother. 
 
 M. Well, you see, my son, not only that there 
 is wonderful contrivance and skill, in the different 
 parts of the nautilus, but a wonderful design, too, in 
 putting these parts together, and having them act 
 upon each other just as they do. 
 
 If the nautilus had not a way of throwing out the 
 water, and rising to the top, it could not sail on the 
 top of the water; and there would be no use in 
 having any of its parts, so as to help it to sail.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 11 
 
 If the shell was not thin and hollow, it could not 
 float, even after it rises to the top of the water. 
 
 There would be no use, in its raising iip its arms, 
 and stretching them out, if there was not a thin, 
 web-like something between them, as a sail, for the 
 wind to blow against. 
 
 And it would do but little good to hoist its sail, 
 and be blown about, if it could not guide itself by 
 the two little paddles, and so determine which way 
 to go. 
 
 And it would not be best for it, to come up to 
 the top of the water, and sail about, if it could not 
 make itself sink, and go down again, when there is 
 clanger. 
 
 You see what a wonderful thing the nautilus is ! 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 ROBERT. I have thought a good deal, mother, 
 about the nautilus. I want to see one, very much. 
 
 MOTHER. If you should ever go on the ocean, 
 in a ship, when you grow up to be a man, you will, 
 probably, see many of them. 
 
 But there are some things which you see every 
 clay, which are as curious as the nautilus is. 
 
 R. Mother, a chicken is a curious little animal. 
 
 M. Yes, my dear ; and if you could look inside 
 of a chicken, you would find a great many parts, 
 quite as curious as the sail and paddles of the nau- 
 tilus. And you would see as much wonderful design,
 
 12 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 in the way in which these parts are put together, 
 and what they are made for. 
 
 Look, too, at the outside of a chicken. Stroke 
 its little feathers. How smooth, and light, and 
 warm they are. What a good covering they are, 
 for the little creature. How many feathers there 
 are, all lying one way, and every feather itself is 
 very curious. 
 
 The mouth of a chicken is very different from 
 the mouth of a dog or of a cat. It has a long bill, 
 made sharp, and opens so that it can pick up the 
 corn and little seeds, very easily, like a pair of 
 nippers. 
 
 It has claws, too, just right for scratching in the 
 ground, to find its food ; and for keeping fast hold 
 of the branch of a tree, when it grows older, and 
 goes there, to roost at night. 
 
 I think, a chicken has as many curious parts as 
 the nautilus. 
 
 R. I do not know but it has, mother; and I think, 
 it WQuld be a great deal more difficult for any body 
 to make a little chicken, with wheels inside, so that 
 it could walk, and scratch in the ground, and pick 
 up corn and seeds, than it would be to make a nau- 
 tilus that would sail. 
 
 M. It would be so, my son. 
 
 But now, I wish to explain something to you, 
 that is more wonderful than any thing which I have 
 yet told you, about the nautilus or the chicken. 
 
 Suppose your uncle John could make a nautilus,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 13 
 
 with so many new and curious wheels inside of it, 
 that somehow or other, these wheels would move, 
 and, by and hy, make another nautilus, just like the 
 first. 
 
 And, suppose there should be wheels, inside of 
 this second one, that should move in the same way, 
 and make a third ; and so on, till a hundred were 
 made. 
 
 R. Mother, you know that uncle John, or any 
 body else, never could do that. 
 
 M. But, only suppose that he could, my dear. 
 Would you not think that his contrivance and skill 
 would be a thousand times more wonderful, than 
 if he made only one nautilus ? 
 
 R. Certainly, mother, I should. 
 
 M. Well, Robert, there is something like this, 
 with regard to the little chicken. 
 
 You know, the hen lays eggs. She hatches 
 them, and the little chickens come out of the eggs. 
 
 When the chickens grow up, they lay eggs, and 
 hatch more little chickens. And so they keep on, 
 year after year. 
 
 R. How many years ago, did the first hen live, 
 mother ? 
 
 M. Oh ! a great, great many years ago. Do 
 you not think, that there was wonderful contriv- 
 ance, and skill, and design, shown in that first hen ? 
 
 R. I do, indeed, mother. For that first hen laid 
 eggs, and little chickens came out of them ; and, 
 then, these chickens grew up, and laid more eggs ;
 
 14 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 and more chickens came out of them, and so on, and 
 so on, till what a wonderful number of chickens 
 there have been in the world ! 
 
 M. Yes, my son. You see, that there is a great 
 deal of contrivance and skill shown in a little chick- 
 en, and a great deal of design, in the way in which 
 all its parts are put together. You see, too, that 
 all this contrivance, and skill, and design, was 
 shown, still more wonderfully, in the first hen. 
 
 Now, when you look at a kite, you know with 
 what design it was made, and you see the contriv- 
 ance and skill with which its parts are put together. 
 You know, that somebody must have made it, and 
 have thought before hand how to make it. The kite 
 could not have made itself. 
 
 So, when you look at the curious little chicken, 
 or the curious little nautilus, and see the wonder- 
 ful design, and skill, and contrivance which are 
 shown in them, you know, that some one must have 
 made them, and have made the first hen and the first 
 nautilus, and have thought, before hand, hoio to 
 make them. 
 
 It is your spirit, your mind, which thinks before 
 hand, which designs, and contrives, and directs 
 your hands to be skilful, whenever you make a kite. 
 
 It is GOD, the GREAT SPIRIT, the ETER- 
 NAL MIND, who thought before hand, who designed, 
 contrived, and made every little chicken and nautilus, 
 and the first hen and nautilus ; and the first things and 
 beings, and all things and beings.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 15 
 
 When you see, my son, such wonderful skill and 
 contrivance in the thousand beings and things which 
 are around you, and the design with which they 
 were made, and all their parts put together ; you 
 know, certainly, that there is a GOD who made them, 
 just as certainly as you know, that the tall kite 
 which you saw the boys playing with, must have 
 been made by somebody. 
 
 GOD shows Himself to you ; He shows you His 
 wonderful knowledge, and contrivance, and power, and 
 skill, and design, in your own body and soul, which He 
 made, and in all the beings and things which are 
 around you. 
 
 R. How does GOD show Himself to me, mother? 
 / do not see Him. 
 
 M. Do you see me, Robert? 
 
 R. Yes, mother, I see you now, sitting right 
 before me. 
 
 M. When I am asleep, can you see me then ? 
 
 R. Certainly ; I saw you last evening, mother, 
 when you was so tired, and slept in your chair. 
 
 M. Suppose, I should die, could you see me 
 then ? 
 
 R. I should see your dead body. 
 
 M. But the dead body would not be myself. It 
 would not be your mother, whom you now see, and 
 who is talking to you. My soul, or spirit, would 
 have left the body ; and if any one should ask you, 
 where your mother was, you would say, you hoped 
 that she had gone to Heaven.
 
 16 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 Look at my spectacles. When you see them, 
 do you see me ? 
 
 R. No, mother, but I see you looking through 
 them. 
 
 M. When you look at my eyes, do you see 
 me? 
 
 R. I see you, mother, looking through them. 
 
 M. So, when you see my lips and tongue move, 
 you see me, speaking to you with them. And 
 when you see any part of my body moving, you see 
 me, making it move. 
 
 When I am awake, you see my waking body. 
 When I am asleep, you see my sleeping body. 
 And if I should die, you would see my dead body. 
 But you cannot see my soul. 
 
 It is my soul which is now looking at you, 
 through the eyes of the body. It is my soul which 
 is now speaking to you, with the lips and tongue 
 of the body. When I rise and walk, or do any 
 thing with my hands, it is my soul which does it, 
 with the feet and hands of the body. 
 
 My body, with all its parts, so curiously and 
 wonderfully made, is a kind of machine, or a col- 
 lection of instruments, which my soul uses, in dif- 
 ferent ways, to do the different things which I wish 
 to do. 
 
 R. I remember, mother, you told me once, 
 about your spectacles being like another pair of 
 eyes. 
 
 M. Yes, my dear. My spectacles are an instru-
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 17 
 
 ment which I use, to help me to see better. A 
 man made them, and they are curiously made. 
 
 So my eyes are instruments which I use to see 
 with ; and my tongue is an instrument which I 
 use, to talk with ; and my hands are instruments 
 which I use, to do a great many things with. GOD 
 made my eyes, my tongue, and my hands ; and 
 they are instruments vastly more curious than any 
 which man can make. 
 
 R. So they are, mother, and they are a great 
 deal better, too ; for they do not get out of order, 
 as other instruments do ; and we can carry them 
 about with us, without any trouble. 
 
 M. Do you remember that curious machine, 
 Robert, which I took you to see, the other day, in 
 the cotton factory ? 
 
 R. I do, mother ; how full it was of little wheels, 
 and a great many curious things, that kept moving 
 so many different ways. 
 
 M. Did you see what made it move ? 
 
 R. No, mother. But you told me, there was 
 a boy in the other room, turning a large wheel, 
 which made the machine move. 
 
 M. If you should go there again, and see the 
 machine moving, what would you think made it 
 move ? 
 
 R. I should know, that it was a boy, in the other 
 room, made it move. 
 
 M. So, when you see any part of my body, 
 which is itself a very curious machine, moving, or 
 c 2
 
 18 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 doing any thing, you know, that it is my soul, (like 
 the boy, in the other room,) making it move and 
 do so. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, only I can open the door, and 
 go into the other room, and see the boy, but I can- 
 not find out any way to see your soul. 
 
 M. Neither would you see the boy's soul. You 
 would only see his body, and his arm and hand 
 moving, which turn the machine. You say you 
 see me, because my soul, or, what is the same thing, 
 myself, is shown to you, through, or with, my body. 
 You would not know, that I was in my body, if I 
 did not show myself to you, by making my body 
 move or do something. If I did not open my eyes, 
 but lie perfectly still, and not move at all, and lie 
 so, for several days, you would think, that I was 
 dead, and that I was no longer in my body, You 
 would not say, that you saw me, 
 
 R. I begin to understand you, mother. 
 
 M. Well, as you cannot see my spirit, only as 
 I show myself to you, through, or with, my body ; 
 so you cannot see GOD, the great Spirit, only as 
 He shows Himself to you, in the wonderful things 
 which He has made. 
 
 When I open my eyes, and look at you kindly, 
 you say, you see me looking at you kindly ; and 
 you love me, and call me your dear mother. 
 
 When the sun shines pleasantly over the east- 
 ern hills on you, and on every thing around you ; 
 and you look at it, and rejoice in its cheerful
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 19 
 
 light ; think, that it is GOD who makes it shine 
 so pleasantly, and that you can, as it were, see Him 
 looking kindly at you, and love Him, and call Him 
 your Heavenly Father, 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and when I see the beautiful 
 clear moon, and the bright stars, I can think too, 
 that I see GOD looking down upon me from the 
 blue sky. 
 
 M. When I speak to you, my son, you love to 
 hear my voice, and you say, that you hear me 
 speaking to you. 
 
 You sometimes hear the wind gently blowing 
 through the trees, and making a pleasant sound 
 among the leaves. 
 
 Is it not the voice of GOD ? You do, as it were, 
 hear Him speaking kindly to you ; and you must love 
 Him. 
 
 R. Mother, I sometimes hear it thunder, and I 
 am afraid. Does GOD speak to me then ? 
 
 M. Why not, my son, and why should you be 
 afraid ? 
 
 It is GOD who makes the forked lightening, and 
 loud thunder. He directs the storm, and he can 
 keep you as safe in the midst of it, as when the sky 
 is all clear and pleasant. 
 
 It is His voice that you hear in the thunder. 
 You hear Him, as it were, speaking to you from the 
 dark clouds. He tells you, that it is He who 
 thunders in the heavens ; that He is almighty, and 
 that you must fear to displease Him ; that He is
 
 20 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 almighty, and that He can do all things as He 
 chooses ; that in His hands you are safe, and that 
 He will make you happy with Him for ever, in that 
 bright and beautiful heaven, away above the dark 
 clouds, where it is thundering, if you will love and 
 obey Him. 
 
 R. Mother, how many new and strange things 
 you have told me ! How great and wonderful 
 GOD is ! When will you tell me more about 
 Him, and how he shows Himself to me in the things 
 which He has made ? 
 
 M. I will teach you about Him again, my son, 
 very soon. In the meanwhile remember what I 
 have already taught you. 
 
 And as you are learning more and more of 
 GOD, you should desire to love Him more and 
 more ; to think, and speak of Him more and more ; 
 arid to obey Him more and more. 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 MOTHER. What is contrivance, Robert ? 
 
 ROBERT. It is to think before hand how to make 
 any thing. 
 
 M. Can you tell me of something, which it re- 
 quired a good deal of contrivance to make ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother, your silver pencil-case. 
 
 M. You are right, Robert. You see it has a 
 little hole at one end, to keep the lead pencils in. 
 And one part at the other end unscrews and
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 21 
 
 comes off, so that you can put the pencils into it. 
 Then^ there is another screw, and a small wire, 
 which pushes the little pencil out, every time that 
 you turn the screw. It is very curious. I do not 
 have to sharpen the pencil with a pen-knife, as I 
 used to do. I think it is a great deal more conve- 
 nient than the old kind of pencils, which I had to 
 sharpen with a pen-knife. The man that first 
 thought how to make it, must have had a good deal 
 of contrivance. 
 
 Now, Robert, tell me what skill is. 
 
 R. I remember, mother, you told me, yesterday. 
 It is, after any body has contrived how to make 
 any thing, to get every thing ready, and put all the 
 parts together, just as they ought to be, so as to 
 have the thing well made, and to do all this, easily 
 and exactly, without making any mistake. I think, 
 there is a good deal of skill shown, in making, 
 and putting together, all the parts of your silver 
 pencil-case. 
 
 M. What do you understand, by design 9 
 
 R. The man who contrived and made the first 
 pencil-case, like your's, mother, thought, what he 
 would make it for, to hold a little lead pencil, 
 which would not need sharpening, and with which 
 you could write a great deal more conveniently, 
 than with the old kind. This was his design in 
 making it. Design is to think before hand what 
 tee will make a thing for. 
 
 M. I am glad, my son, to see, that you under-
 
 22 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 stand, and recollect so well, what I have taught 
 you. 
 
 Now tell me, can a very curious and useful in- 
 strument be made, to do a particular thing with, 
 unless somebody first has a design ; and contrives 
 it ; and makes it skilfully ; so as to have it just 
 right for doing that particular thing ? 
 
 R. Certainly not, mother. 
 
 M. Robert, if you should see such an instru- 
 ment, very convenient to do a particular thing with, 
 having a great many curious parts, all put together 
 just right for the instrument to be used easily and 
 well, would you not know, that it must have been 
 contrived and made by some very skilful person, 
 who had a particular design in making it ? 
 
 R. I certainly should, mother. 
 
 M. Well, my son, I am going to show you such 
 an instrument ; so curiously and wonderfully made ; 
 with so much design and contrivance, and skill, in 
 it ; so much more curious and wonderful than any 
 thing that a man can make ; that you will see in it, 
 GOD, who designed it, showing his great wisdom, 
 and power, and goodness to you. 
 
 This instrument alone, is enough to convince us, 
 that there is a GOD. 
 
 R. Do show me this instrument, mother, I wish 
 to see it very much. 
 
 M. Lay your arm on this table, Robert, and 
 keep your elbow still. 
 
 Now turn your hand over. Turn it back again.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 23 
 
 Turn it over and back again, a good many times, 
 very quickly. 
 
 Now bend your elbow, and raise your hand up, 
 so as to touch your shoulder. Let it fall again. 
 Raise it, and let it fall again, a good many times, 
 very quickly. 
 
 Now make your thumb and fingers move, as 
 many different ways as you can. 
 
 Now stretch out your whole arm as far as you 
 can. Do not bend it at all. Swing it round and 
 round, and make it go up and down, and to the 
 right and to the left, as far as you can, and as fast 
 as you can. 
 
 Your arm and hand, my son, is the instrument 
 which I was going to show you. 
 
 Must it not be very curiously made, that you 
 can make so many different kinds of motions with it. 
 
 R. It must, indeed, mother ; do explain to me, 
 more about it. 
 
 M. I will, my son, and you will see how kind 
 GOD is, in providing you with such an instrument, 
 with which you can do so many different things. 
 
 Did you ever think, how many different things 
 we can do with our arms and hands ? 
 
 R. I never did, mother ; but I now begin to 
 think about it, and to wonder at it. 
 
 M. We can do so many things with our arms 
 and hands, that I have not time to tell you about 
 them all. 
 
 Only look around you, and s.ee the people who
 
 24 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 are busy and industrious ; how many thousand, 
 thousand different things they can do with their 
 arms and hands ! 
 
 By the help of their arms and hands, people 
 build houses to live in. They make clothes to 
 wear. They plough, and sow, and reap, and gather 
 in the grain, and vegetables, and fruits. They prepare 
 food, in a great many different ways, to eat. They 
 spin, weave, paint, carve, engrave, print, and write. 
 
 But this is not one half, no not one thousandth 
 part, of what people do with their arms and hands. 
 How helpless and miserable we should be, if we 
 had no arms and hands ; or if they were made just 
 like the leg and foot of a dog, or horse ; or like the 
 leg and claw of a bird. 
 
 R. All you are telling me, mother, is very won- 
 derful, indeed. I do not think that people feel as 
 thankful as they ought to do, to God, for giving 
 them arms and hands. 
 
 M. That is true, my son, and, after I have ex- 
 plained to you some of the parts of the arm and 
 hand ; and how they are put together ; and how you 
 can move them, only by thinking to have them 
 move, you will see still more why you ought to be 
 truly thankful to God, for giving you such a curious 
 and useful instrument, with which to do so many 
 things that are necessary for your happiness and 
 improvement. 
 
 You must be very attentive, and patient, or you 
 will not understand me.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 25 
 
 R. That I will try to be, mother. 
 
 M. You have seen the bones of some animals, 
 my son, have you not ? 
 
 R. Oh ! yes, mother, I have often seen them, 
 when we have had meat at dinner, or turkies and 
 fowls. You know, you, sometimes, give me the 
 leg of a fowl, which you call the drumstick ; but 
 it looks only a very little like one. 
 
 M. Well, there are a great many bones in your 
 arm and hand, and you can feel them, through the 
 flesh, with your hand. Here is a drawing of the 
 bones in your arm and hand.
 
 26 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 You see, from the shoulder (a), to the elbow (b), 
 there is only one bone ; but, from the elbow to the 
 wrist, there are two bones. 
 
 The bone (c), is called the shoulder-bone. The 
 bone (d), which joins the wrist, on the side where 
 the thumb is, is called the radius. The bone (e), 
 which joins the wrist, on the side where the little 
 finger is, is called the ulna. 
 
 You must remember these names, Robert. 
 
 R. I will try, mother ; the shoulder-bone ; the 
 radius ; the ulna. 
 
 M. I shall first explain to you, my son, about 
 the joint of the arm, at the shoulder. 
 
 R. What is a joint, mother ? I know where the 
 joints are ; for I have joints in my thumb and fin- 
 gers, so that I can bend and move them, a great 
 many different ways. But the joint is covered with 
 flesh, and I cannot see it. What is it like ? 
 
 M. There are different kinds of joints in the 
 body, my son. Some are something like the hinge 
 of a door, which may be called, the joint of the 
 door ; by the help of which, the door can be made 
 to open and shut. You see it can move only one 
 way, backwards and forwards. 
 
 The joints of your fingers, and the joints at your 
 elbows, are hinge-joints. 
 
 By the help of them you can shut and open your 
 fingers ; and, if your elbow is leaning on a table, 
 you can let your hand go down to the table, and
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 27 
 
 raise it up again, so as to have it touch your shoul- 
 der. This joint, like the hinge on the door, can 
 move only one way. 
 
 Go, and look at the hinge of the door. You will 
 see, that one part of the hinge, which is fastened on 
 to the door, fits into the other part of the hinge 
 which is fastened on to the door-post, so as to move 
 in it, and thus let the door move. These two parts 
 of the hinge, moving the one in the other, may be 
 called a joint, and they are fastened together by an 
 iron pin, or piece of wire. 
 
 This iron pin passes through them, up and down, 
 and keeps them together ; so that there is no dan 
 ger of the door's falling down, or getting out of its 
 place. 
 
 In the same way, in our bodies, where there are 
 joints, the end of one bone fits on to the end of an- 
 other bone, and is fastened to it, (not with a pin, 
 but) by something like very strong, tough threads, 
 or cords ; and, by something like a little bag, which 
 goes all round the ends of the two bones ; so that 
 it helps, with the cords, to keep them firmly to- 
 gether, and they move easily, without any danger 
 of getting out of their place. The ends of the 
 bones do not quite touch each other. The end of 
 each bone is covered with something softer than 
 the bone, but not so soft as flesh. You sometimes 
 see it on the bones of meat, at dinner, and it is 
 called gristle. It is very tough and difficult to be
 
 28 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 broken, and is a little elastic, something like india- 
 rubber. In surgery, it is called cartilage. 
 
 This gristle keeps the hard bones from jarring, 
 and rubbing against each other, which would be 
 very unpleasant. Besides, without this gristle, the 
 bones would not move so easily, and they would 
 be likely to wear away, we use them so constantly, 
 and so much. 
 
 You see, Robert, that God shows you, in the way 
 in which He has made your arm and hand, his 
 great wisdom, and power, and goodness. 
 
 Even one single joint, which I have been telling 
 you about, shows the wonderful design, and con- 
 trivance, and skill of God. 
 
 R. It does, indeed, mother. 
 
 M. But, my son, there is something about a 
 joint, which is yet more wonderful. 
 
 R. What is that, mother ? 
 
 M. What do people have to do to the wheels 
 of their wagons, after they have run some time, 
 and begin to go hard and slow, and make a creak- 
 ing, unpleasant noise ? 
 
 R. They have to grease them. And do you not 
 remember, mother, that you put a little sweet oil 
 into the joint of my knife the other day, and how 
 easy it made it open and shut. I could hardly open 
 it, before. 
 
 M. Well, my son, there is something a little 
 like sweet oil, only a great deal more smooth, 
 which is constantly moistening those parts of the
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 29 
 
 joints which move against each other, and making 
 them slippery, so that they move easily and plea- 
 santly. 
 
 This joint-oil is made inside of the little elastic 
 bag, which, I told you, goes all round the ends of 
 the two bones, at the joint. The bag holds the oil, 
 and keeps it from running out. 
 
 If there is disease in the joint, and this oil is not 
 made, the joint becomes stiff, and one bone creaks 
 upon another, and feels very uncomfortable. 
 
 Now, God has made our joints so skilfully, and 
 so well, that the joints of most persons go safely 
 and pleasantly all their lives, and never get out of 
 order. 
 
 And when we consider that there are about two 
 hundred and fifty bones in our bodies, connected 
 together by various joints ; and how often we move 
 most of these joints even in one day ; and how 
 many millions, and millions, and millions, of times, 
 an old man has moved them, from the time that he 
 was a little infant, is it not wonderful, how long 
 and how well they last ! 
 
 What man could make a hinge of a door, or a 
 wheel of a wagon, that would move so often, and 
 wear so long, without having any thing done to it 
 to keep it in order ! 
 
 We have often to grease the wheels of our wa- 
 gons, and, sometimes, to put in new spokes, and 
 get new wheels made ; and we have to oil the 
 hinges of our doors, and, sometimes, the screws 
 D 2
 
 30 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 work out, and the hinges grow loose, and we have 
 to put them in order, or get new ones. 
 
 But we take no care of our joints. We hardly 
 ever think about them. God has made them to 
 keep on going well ; and, in doing this, what won- 
 derful design, and contrivance, and skill He has 
 shown ! 
 
 R. Mother, I am sure, that one joint is enough 
 to make any body believe that there is a God, and 
 that He made our bodies and souls. 
 
 M. When you use your joints, then, my son, 
 think of God, and how He shows Himself to you 
 in your curious body which He has made ; and 
 how you ought to love Him, for having given you 
 such a body ; and how you ought to use it, and all 
 its parts, in serving Him, and in doing good to others. 
 
 But we must stop now. When we talk together 
 again, I will explain to you more particularly 
 about the joint at the shoulder, and, afterwards, 
 about the other parts of the arm. 
 
 R. Before we go, mother, may I ask you only 
 one question ? 
 
 M. Do, my son. 
 
 R. Was there ever any body who did not be- 
 lieve, that there is a God, who made our joints, and 
 our bodies ? 
 
 M. There have been a very few persons, my son, 
 who have said, that they did not believe, that there 
 is a God, but that all beings and things were made 
 by chance. Such persons are called atheists.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 31 
 
 R. What do they mean, mother, when they say, 
 that chance made things ? What is chance ? 
 
 M. If you should take two hundred and fifty 
 little wooden blocks, of different sizes and shapes ; 
 (just as many as there are bones in our bodies ;) 
 and, without any design, throw them all together 
 into a heap ; and they should, pretty soon, begin 
 to move about, of themselves, and one block go 
 towards some other block, and fit themselves to- 
 gether ; and, at last, all be put in exact order, like 
 the bones in our bodies, and keep so ; so that it 
 would be very difficult for you to pull them apart, 
 then, all this would happen by chance. 
 
 It might have happened very differently ; but it 
 happened to happen just as it did ; and there was 
 not the least design, or contrivance, or skill, about it. 
 
 R. I never could believe that, mother, and I do 
 not think, any body else could. 
 
 M. Atheists, my son, say that they believe so. 
 But they must either be exceedingly wicked, or 
 very foolish, to believe so. 
 
 I will tell you more about them, and about 
 chance, which they say made all things, some other 
 time. 
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 MOTHER. I promised, Robert, to explain to you 
 more particularly about the joint at the shoulder, 
 and about the other parts of the arm.
 
 32 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 Do you wish to have me do it now, or would 
 you rather go and play. 
 
 ROBERT. I had rather talk with you, mother, 
 and learn more of the design, and contrivance, and 
 skill, which God shows me in my curious body that 
 He has made. 
 
 M. Well, he attentive, then, and I will begin. 
 
 Here is a drawing of the joint at the shoulder, 
 which I wish you to examine. 
 
 R. Which arm is it, mother. 
 
 M. It is the right arm, and only the bones are 
 drawn. The gristle on the ends of the bones ; and 
 the little bag which goes round them, and help to 
 keep them together, and holds the joint- oil ; and 
 the threads or cords that fasten the bones together ; 
 
 about which I told you, are not drawn. If 
 
 they had been, you could not have seen the bones 
 so distinctly. I will show you the drawings of 
 them, at some other time. 
 
 R. Mother, do you call this a hinge joint ? It 
 does not seem to me, to look, at all, like a hinge. 
 
 M. No, my son, it is not a hinge-joint. It is 
 quite a different kind of joint. If it was a hinge- 
 joint, you would be able to move your arm, at the 
 shoulder, only one way, right up and down. A 
 door, you know, can be moved only one way, to 
 open and shut it. The joint at your elbow, is a 
 hinge-joint, and you cannot move your arm at the 
 elbow, round and round, as you can at the shoulder. 
 
 A hinge-joint, at the shoulder, would have been
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 33 
 
 very inconvenient. God knew that it would. He, 
 therefore, made it very different from a hinge -joint; 
 and thus shows you, not only his contrivance and 
 skill, but that He had a particular design, in making 
 the joint at the shoulder just as He did. 
 
 R. What was his design, mother, in making it 
 so ? 
 
 M. You will see, by and by, my son. 
 
 a 
 
 Look at the upper end (a) of the shoulder-bone. 
 It is round, very much like the little ball that you 
 play with. 
 
 Now, look at the bone at which I am pointing 
 (b). It is called, the shoulder-blade, because it is
 
 34 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 flat and thin, something like the blade of a knife. 
 You can feel it, directly behind your shoulder. 
 
 You see one end of this bone crooks round, like 
 the bill of a crow (c) . 
 
 You see, too, that there is another end which 
 crooks round also (d). 
 
 Between these hooks, as we will call them, you 
 see a small hollow place in the shoulder-blade (e). 
 
 Around this hollow place, there is a ring of gris- 
 tle, which, with the hollow place, makes a kind of 
 cup, in which the round end of the shoulder-bone 
 (a) fits exactly, and moves with great ease. 
 
 The end of this bone (a), you recollect, is also 
 covered with gristle ; and so is the hollow place in 
 the shoulder-blade (e). 
 
 R. I do not see the ring of gristle, mother, nor the 
 gristle on the end of the shoulder-bone, in the picture. 
 
 M. They are not drawn, my son, but you can 
 think a little, how they would look. I will show 
 them to you, some time, in a picture. 
 
 The round end of the shoulder-bone, in your 
 arm, keeps in the hollow cup, about which I have 
 been telling you ; and it moves round in the cup, 
 every time that you move your arm. It moves 
 easily, too, because the ring, and coverings of gris- 
 tle, are so smooth and elastic, and because the joint- 
 oil keeps them slippery. 
 
 Only try, and see, how easily and quickly, and 
 in how many different ways, you can move your 
 arm, at the shoulder-joint. [Robert does so.]
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 35 
 
 R. Mother, what do jou call the shoulder -joint ? 
 You said, it is not a hinge-joint. 
 
 M. We might call it a cup and ball joint. It is 
 more common, however, to call it a ball and socket 
 joint. The socket is the hollow place like a cup, 
 which holds the round end of the bone, and in 
 which it moves. 
 
 Make your left hand hollow, as much like a cup 
 as you can ; and shut up the thumb and fingers of your 
 right hand, as the boys do, when they double up a fist. 
 
 Now put your right hand into your left hand ; 
 and hold it fast with the thumb and fingers of the 
 left hand ; and move your right hand round as 
 many different ways as you can. [Robert does so.~\ 
 
 R. Mother, I can move it all sorts of ways. I 
 can make my right arm go up and down, or for- 
 wards and backwards, or round and round, very 
 quick, indeed. 
 
 M, Well, this is something like the joint at the 
 shoulder. The two hooked ends of the shoulder 
 blade (c d), which you see in the picture, clasp 
 round the round end of the shoulder-bone (a), and 
 help to keep it in its place, somewhat as the thumb 
 and fingers of your left hand did your right hand. 
 But this alone would not be enough to keep the shoul- 
 der-bone in its place. Something more is necessary. 
 
 R. Mother, how is the end of the shoulder-bone 
 kept so strongly in the hollow cup, and never gets 
 out of it ? 
 
 M. Call it socket, my dear.
 
 36 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 The end of the shoulder-bone is kept in the 
 socket, in this way. 
 
 The little bag that holds the joint-oil, and the 
 two hooked ends of the shoulder-blade, help to 
 keep the end of the shoulder-bone in the socket ; 
 but, besides this, there are strips of hard and strong 
 flesh, and several very tough and strong cords, that 
 are fastened to these strips of flesh, which pass 
 over the shoulder-joint, in various ways, and bind 
 it, and keep it from moving out of the socket. 
 
 The strips of flesh, are called muscles, and the cords 
 that are fastened to the muscles, are called tendons. 
 
 The muscles and tendons are fastened to the 
 bones on different sides of the joints. They pull 
 the bones, and make them move on their joints, a 
 great many different ways. Besides this, they 
 bind the shoulder-joint, and keep it in its place, as 
 I have just told you. 
 
 R. Mother, do explain to me, more about these 
 muscles and tendons. They must be very curious ; 
 I wish I could see them. 
 
 M. We must not attend to too many things at 
 once, Robert. You can understand things best, by 
 attending to only one, at a time. 
 
 I intend to tell you more, hereafter, about the 
 muscles and tendons, and to show you some pic- 
 tures of them. 
 
 R. I shall be very glad, mother, and thank you 
 very much. 
 
 M. I have done explaining to you, Robert, about 
 the joint at the shoulder.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 37 
 
 r, 1 will tell you about the joint at the elbow, 
 which is, also, very curious, and shows you the de- 
 sign, contrivance, and skill, of God, in making it. 
 
 Here is a drawing of it, which I wish you to 
 examine. 
 
 M. It is the right arm which you are looking at, 
 and the elbow is toward you, as if the person was 
 standing with his back to you. 
 
 R. That, mother, is a part of the shoulder-bone 
 (a), about which you have been telling me. 
 
 M. Yes, but you do not see the round end, 
 which sets into the socket, at the shoulder-joint. 
 
 The other end of the bone, which you see, has a 
 very different shape. 
 
 There is a hollow place (b), at this end, into 
 which a hooked part (c) of another bone sets. 
 You recollect, I showed you this bone, [see page 
 25], and told you, that it was called, the ulna. It 
 is this bone which moves up and down, at the elbow 
 joint, when the whole arm is stretched out, and the 
 shoulder-bone kept still. 
 
 R. I shall remember, mother, to call it the ulna, 
 You told me, too, that the ulna, at its lower end,
 
 38 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 joins the wrist, on the side where the little finger is. 
 
 M. Well, a hooked end of the ulna (c), you see, 
 sets into a hollow place (h) of the shoulder-bone, at 
 the elbow-joint. It is this hooked end of the ulna, 
 on which you lean, when you say, that you lean on 
 your elbow. You can feel it very easily with your 
 thumb and fingers. 
 
 Now, suppose the person, at whose right arm you 
 are looking, to turn round and face you. You will 
 see the inside of the arm, thus. 
 
 ft' 
 
 Look at the lower end of the shoulder-bone, and 
 you see a small, hollow place (a), into which another 
 hooked end (b) of the ulna sets. This hollow place, 
 however, is quite shallow, not so deep as the one on 
 the other side, which I showed you ; and this end is 
 not so long and hooked as the other end. 
 
 These two hooked ends of the ulna, clasp round 
 the end of the shoulder-bone, and form a joint, which 
 is called a hinge-joint, so that you can move your 
 arm, at the elbow; but you can move it only one way. 
 
 When you straighten your arm, the hooked end 
 on the outside, goes into the hollow place on the 
 outside, and sets firm and fast into it, and helps to
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 39 
 
 keep the ulna in its place, and from going any 
 farther back. 
 
 When you bend your arm, so as to bring your 
 hand up to your shoulder, the crooked end of the 
 ulna on the inside, goes into the hollow place on the 
 inside, and helps to keep the ulna in its place, and 
 from going any farther, that way. 
 
 R. Mother, I wish I could see the real bones, and 
 then I should know exactly how they look. 
 
 M. When you grow older, my son, perhaps you 
 may see them ; but I think you can understand 
 about them, pretty well, from looking at the pictures. 
 
 R. I do not know, mother, that I understand 
 exactly, how the two hooked ends of the ulna, going 
 quite down into the two hollow places, in the end 
 of the shoulder-bone, help to keep the arm from 
 going too far, one way or the other. 
 
 M. I think I can explain it to you a little further, 
 so that you will understand it. 
 
 Shut up your left hand tight, as the boys do, when 
 they double up a fist. 
 
 Now crook the thumb and fore-finger of your 
 right hand, so as to make half the letter O, and shut 
 up the three other fingers. 
 
 Clasp your left hand, with the thumb and fore- 
 finger of your right hand ; so that the fore-finger 
 may lie between the lower joint of the little finger, 
 and of the finger next to it ; and that the thumb 
 may lie just under the thumb of the left hand. 
 
 Roll your right hand on your left hand, from you,
 
 40 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 and towards you, keeping it as close as you can to 
 your left hand, and making the fore -finger and 
 thumb of your right hand as hooked as you can. 
 
 You will see, that, after your right hand has 
 moved a little one way or the other, it will stop ; and 
 if there were two, small, hollow places, in your left 
 hand, in which the ends of your thumb and finger 
 could set, this would help still more to keep your 
 right hand from moving any farther, and to keep it 
 in its place. 
 
 The middle joint of the fore-finger of your right 
 hand, represents (or is like), the elbow of your arm ; 
 and the clasping of the fore-finger and thumb round 
 ycur left hand, is something like the hinge-joint at 
 the elbow. 
 
 R. Now, mother, I seem to understand it better. 
 But you have not told me any thing, yet, about the 
 radius. 
 
 M. One thing at a time, my son. Just now, you 
 did not quite understand about the motion of the 
 ulna round the end of the shoulder-bone. Be atten- 
 tive, and not in a hurry. Be sure, that you under- 
 stand every thing, as I am explaining it to you ; and 
 if you do not understand it, tell me so, and ask me 
 all the questions that you wish to do. 
 
 That is the way, that little boys and girls should 
 do, and big men and women, too, when they are 
 learning any thing new and difficult. 
 
 If people would all do so, they would know a great 
 deal more than they do ; and they would not so
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY 
 
 41 
 
 often be mistaken ; and they would be a great deal 
 wiser. 
 
 This evening, I will tell you about the radius ; and 
 then, you can ask me any more questions that you 
 choose, about what I have already told you. 
 
 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 ROBERT. Mother, it is more than an hour yet, 
 before I must go to bed. I think you kindly promised 
 to tell me about the radius. 
 
 MOTHER. Well, my dear, I always mean to keep 
 my promises. Come, sit down by the table, and 
 look at this drawing. 
 
 R. Oh ! mother, I remember which the radius 
 is. There it is (a), just above the ulna (b). 
 
 M. You are right, Robert. You see, one end (c) 
 of it, is on that side of the hand, where the thumb 
 is, and the other end (d) almost touches the lower 
 end (e) of the shoulder bone. 
 K _>
 
 42 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 II. Does it not set in to the shoulder-bone, mo- 
 ther, as the hooked ends of the ulna do ? 
 
 M. No, my son, but there is a small, round knob 
 (f), on the end of the shoulder bone, on which the 
 end of the radius moves. The end of the radius is 
 made to fit on to this knob ; so that it is a very little 
 like a ball and socket joint, 
 
 The radius moves two ways, on this knob; up 
 and down, when the elbow joint moves, and the 
 hand is moved up and down ; and it turns round 
 on this knob, when the hand is turned round, at the 
 wrist. 
 
 R. Mother, how many curious motions the dif- 
 ferent bones have ! 
 
 M. Yes, my son. Do you think, that you could 
 cut out some little sticks of wood ; and shape them ; 
 and fit them together ; so as to make them have as 
 many different, curious motions, as the bones of the 
 arm have ? 
 
 R. No, mother, I should not have contrivance 
 and skill enough. 
 
 M. Well, my son, as we go on in our explana- 
 tion, you will keep seeing more and more of the 
 wonderful design, and contrivance, and skill of God, 
 and of his goodness too, in making for you such a 
 curious and convenient instrument, as the arm and 
 hand. 
 
 R. Mother, the end of the radius (d), next to the 
 .shoulder bone, looks like a button. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and it is called a button-head.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 43 
 
 You see the edge of it just touches the upper side of 
 the ulna. 
 
 R. Is it fastened to it, mother ? 
 
 M. No, my son. If it was, you could not turn 
 your hand round, at the wrist. 
 
 R. Why not, mother ? I do not understand 
 that. 
 
 M. One end of the radius (c), Robert, is fastened 
 to some little bones, which are at the bottom of that 
 side of the hand where the thumb is. To these 
 little bones, the hand is fastened ; and it rests, and 
 moves, on them, 
 
 Now when you keep your arm quite still, so as 
 not to move it, either at the shoulder, or at the el- 
 bow, and turn your hand over, and back again, the 
 little bones at the bottom of the hand, must turn 
 over, too. 
 
 These little bones are fastened to the radius ; so 
 that the radius must turn round also. And this it 
 could not do, if its button-head (d) w T as fastened tight 
 to the ulna. If it was, the radius could only move 
 up and down, and only when the ulna did, for, being 
 fastened tight to it, the radius would move just as 
 the ulna does. 
 
 Do you understand me ? 
 
 R. I think I do, mother, but I wish to look at 
 the drawing, a little more. 
 
 M. Just as long as you please, Robert. 
 
 R. Mother, it seems to me, that when the radius 
 turns round, at the same time that the hand does,
 
 44 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 at the wrist, that the edge of the button-head (d) 
 must roll on the side of the ulna. 
 
 M. You are right, my son. It does ; and there 
 is a small, hollow place (g) scooped out of the upper 
 side of the end of the ulna, in which the edge of the 
 button-head fits exactly, and in which it rolls, when- 
 ever it turns round. 
 
 It is this turning round of the radius, that enables 
 you to turn your hand round, at the wrist, so that 
 you can hold the back of it upwards, and then the 
 palm of it upwards, just as you choose. 
 
 R. Is the end of the radius at the wrist (c), fas- 
 tened to the ulna, mother ? 
 
 M. No, my son, for then the radius could not 
 turn round. It could only move as the ulna does. 
 
 But, at the wrist, it is the ulna that has a sort of 
 button-head (h), and the hollow place which fits it, 
 is scooped out of the radius ; so that, when the radius 
 turns round, this hollow place rolls on the button- 
 head of the ulna. 
 
 And God has made all this so exactly, and so 
 curiously, to enable you, both to bend your arm at 
 the elbow, and, at the same time, to turn your hand 
 round whenever you wish to do it. 
 
 Put your two fore-fingers close by the side of each 
 other. Keep them close at the lower joint, while 
 you roll the fore -finger of the right hand over, and 
 across the fore-finger of the left hand, and back 
 again. [Robert does so,"] 
 
 Well, this is something like the rolling of the
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 45 
 
 radius over, and across, the ulna, when you turn 
 your hand over and back again. And you see the 
 reason, why, at the elbow, the button- head of the 
 radius rolls in the hollow place (g) of the ulna,- 
 and why, at the wrist, the hollow place of the radius 
 rolls on the button-head (h) of the ulna. 
 
 In this way, the end of the radius, at the wrist, 
 has more motion than the end, at the elbow. It has 
 a larger sweep, and the hand can be turned over 
 farther, and more easily. 
 
 R. Curious ! curious ! Mother, are all the other 
 parts of the body as curious ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and many of them are a great 
 deal more so. 
 
 R. I should think, it would take a great while to 
 understand about them all. 
 
 M. It would so, Robert ; a great many books 
 have been written about them, by very wise and 
 learned men. And yet, all is not known about them. 
 Probably, many more curious, and wonderful, things 
 will yet be found out. Then we shall have still 
 more reason to admire, and be thankful for, the 
 great wisdom and power, and skill, and goodness of 
 God, in the bodies which He has made for our souls 
 to live in, and to use, in so many ways, for our hap- 
 piness, and for that of our fellow-men. 
 
 But we must talk a little more about the elbow- 
 joint, before you go to bed. Are you tired ? 
 
 R. Not at all, mother ; I could sit here an hour lon- 
 ger, what you say is so entertaining and instructive 
 to me.
 
 46 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. I only wish to tell you, how the shoulder- 
 bone, the ulna, and the radius, are fastened together, 
 at the elbow-joint. For there are some things about 
 it, a little different from the joint at the shoulder, 
 and which show still further the design, contrivance, 
 and skill of God. 
 
 The ends of the bones, as at the shoulder-joint, 
 are covered with gristle, the use of which I explained 
 to you. The joint-oil, too, is furnished, and kept 
 in a bag which surrounds the joint ; and you recol- 
 lect what it is for. 
 
 Several muscles, also, and tendons (strips of hard 
 flesh, and tough, strong cords, about which I told 
 you), pass across the joint, and being fastened, 
 above and below it, help to keep the ulna and the 
 radius in their places. 
 
 But there is still something more done, to keep 
 them in their places ; and this was very necessary, 
 for there is a great strain at the elbow-joint, when 
 we lift any thing very heavy, or do any thing very 
 hard, with our hands. 
 
 Here is a drawing at which I wish you to look 
 very attentively, while I am explaining it to you.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 47 
 
 (a) is the shoulder-bone, (b) the radius, and (c) the 
 ulna, of the left arm. 
 
 They are all bound together, by the bag of the 
 joint (d), which is not very strong itself, but is 
 made so, by some ligaments that cross it in different 
 directions. 
 
 R. Mother, what is a ligament ? 
 
 M. I was just going to tell you ; but I am glad, 
 that you asked me, for it shows, that you recollect 
 what I have told you always to ask the meaning 
 of any words that you do not understand. 
 
 If you should wind the end of your handkerchief 
 round two of your fingers, so as to bind them toge- 
 ther, it would be called a ligament. 
 
 A ligament is a band of any kind, put round two 
 or more things, to bind them together. 
 
 The ligaments, in our bodies, are either flat, like 
 a piece of tape, or round, like a cord. They are very 
 tough and strong, and are made up of a great many, 
 very fine threads, very close together closer than a 
 strong man could twist a great many, fine, strong 
 cords together. 
 
 Now, look again at the drawing. The ligament 
 (e) is a part of the bag, and goes over the button- 
 head of the radius. It is very hard, and something 
 like gristle. It is strengthened very much, by ano- 
 ther ligament (n), which, you see, goes across the 
 bag. 
 
 There are, also, two ligaments (o o), which are 
 small, but strong, slips, that go from the end of the
 
 48 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 shoulder- bone, to the bottom of the large hook of the 
 ulna. 
 
 Then, there is a ligament (p), passing between 
 the radius and the ulna. 
 
 So you see what care is taken, to make the elbow 
 joint firm and strong, and to keep all the bones in 
 their places, while they can still move so curiously, 
 around, and upon, and across, each other. 
 
 You understand now, I suppose, enough about 
 the joints, at the shoulder, and at the elbow, to see 
 the design which God had in making them as He 
 did. 
 
 R. I do, pretty well, mother. His design was, to 
 have them move, in the best way for our using them. 
 
 M. That is right, Robert. And only think, if 
 the hinge joint was at the shoulder, and the ball and 
 socket joint at the elbow, how awkwardly we should 
 move our arm. 
 
 It would be difficult, then, and, indeed, impossi- 
 ble for us, to do many things with our arms and 
 hands, which we now do with great ease, and quick- 
 ness. 
 
 Could any body suppose, that the man who first 
 thought of making a pencil-case, like my silver one, 
 had not a particular design in making it ? When 
 you examine it, and see how all its parts are curi- 
 ously made, and skilfully put together, do you not 
 think, at once, and believe, that a man made it, and 
 that he had a particular design in making all its parts, 
 and in putting them together, just as he did ?
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 49 
 
 And when you examine the hinge of a door, can 
 you believe, that it was made for any other purpose, 
 than to have the door swing upon it ? Did not the 
 man who first thought how to make it, have a parti- 
 cular design in making all its parts, and in putting 
 them together, just as he did ? 
 
 What else could the pencil-case have been made 
 for, than to hold a small, new kind of lead pencil, 
 different from the old kind, and more convenient for 
 a person to write with ? 
 
 What else could the hinge of a door have been 
 made for, than to have the door swing upon it, and 
 open and shut ? 
 
 In the same way, what else could the joints at 
 the shoulder and elbow, have been made for, than to 
 help the arm and hand to move, easily and quickly, 
 a great many different ways, so that we can use 
 them for doing a great many different things ? 
 
 And why were the shoulder- joint, and the elbow- 
 joint, made so differently from each other ? Here, 
 we see another particular design. For, if there was 
 no such design, they would have been made alike, 
 just as the two hinges of a door are. 
 
 There is no reason, why the two hinges of a door 
 should be unlike. No, there are good reasons why 
 they should be made exactly alike. 
 
 Now, there are no good reasons, why the shoulder 
 and elbow-joints, should be made alike. If they 
 were made so, they would be very awkward and 
 F
 
 50 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 inconvenient, and quite useless for doing many 
 things which we now do easily and well. 
 
 But you can see many good reasons, why they 
 should be made unlike, and why, at the shoulder, 
 there should he a ball and socket joint, and, at the 
 elbow, a hinge joint. 
 
 In making them so, God had a particular design ; 
 and, when we examine their curious parts, we not 
 only believe that there is a God who made them, 
 but that He made all the parts, and put them together 
 just as he did, for one purpose, and for no other* 
 
 Every time that we move our arms and our hands, 
 or do any thing with them, shows us this one pur- 
 pose for which God made the joints exactly as he 
 has made them. 
 
 R. Mother, how little men know, and how little 
 they can do ! How wise, and powerful, and skilful, 
 God is ! 
 
 M. Remember, too, my son, how good God is ! 
 He is good in making all the parts of your body, just 
 as He has made them ; and in keeping them in 
 order, as He does ; and in giving you health and 
 strength ; and in keeping you safe from danger, so 
 that none of your limbs have been broken, or any 
 part of your body injured. 
 
 Has not God a right to command you, never to 
 use your arms and hands for doing any thing wrong, 
 nor your lips and tongue for saying any thing wrong, 
 but to use them, and your whole body, in obeying
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 51 
 
 and serving Him, and in doing good to others ? 
 
 R. Yes, indeed, I think He has, mother. 
 
 M. Remember it, my son ; and always fear to use 
 your body for any wrong purpose, and thus sin against 
 God. For God looks on all who sin against Him, 
 with very great displeasure. 
 
 R. I hope, mother, that I shall always remember 
 what you have told me, and try to use my arms, and 
 hands, and lips, and tongue, and all the parts of my 
 body, just as I ought to do, and to do good with 
 them. 
 
 M. I hope you will, my son, and that God will 
 enable you to do so. 
 
 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 MOTHER. You have been a good boy, Robert, 
 and said your lessons well, and now I will explain 
 to you something more about the arm and hand. 
 
 ROBERT. I shall be very much obliged to you, 
 mother, for doing it, For I should not like to stop 
 now, and not know any thing about the wrist and 
 hand, since I understand pretty well about the bones 
 and joints in the arm. 
 
 M. You will see, my son, that the bones and 
 joints in the arm, are all connected with the bones 
 and joints of the wrist and hand ; indeed, they were 
 designed principally to enable you to use your hand. 
 The different kinds of motions, at the shoulder and
 
 52 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 elbow -joints, enable you to carry your hand from one 
 place to another ; to reach up high or down low, and 
 get any thing ; to stretch your hand forward, or to 
 put it behind you ; and to move it, in one direction 
 and another, as you may wish. 
 
 So you see all the parts of your arm and hand, are 
 only parts of one and the same instrument, made, 
 and put together, with one design, to enable you to 
 use it easily and quickly, for your own good, and the 
 good of others. 
 
 R. Mother, God must have thought a good deal, 
 how to make the arm and hand. 
 
 It would take a man a great while to think how 
 to make such a curious and useful instrument, and 
 one, too, that should always keep in good order. 
 
 M. My son, God's thoughts are not as our thoughts. 
 
 When we say that God designs and contrives, we 
 do not mean, that he does so as we do. 
 
 We have to think long and hard, in designing 
 any thing which it is difficult to make. Some men 
 have spent many years in doing this. The man 
 that first designed a steamboat did; and yet he did 
 not make it as good as it might have been made. 
 Other persons have since designed and made steam- 
 boats, and made them better in many things. And 
 other persons will probably make steamboats, still 
 better, more safe, and more useful, and thus show 
 their design and contrivance. 
 
 But God thinks immediately, and without the least 
 difficulty, how to make the things which He wishes to
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 53 
 
 make, and which appear to us the most difficult to be 
 made. 
 
 He knows all things, and therefore, knows all the 
 different ways in which things can be made, and 
 how their parts can be put together, and what is the 
 best way of doing this. 
 
 When a man designs and contrives any thing, he 
 could not do it, if he had not learned a great many 
 things from others. 
 
 You could not design and contrive how to make 
 a new kind of kite, if you had not seen the boys 
 make kites, and thus learned yourself how to make 
 them. 
 
 But God learns nothing from other beings. He 
 knows, and has always knoicn, how all kinds of beings 
 and things can be made, and for what they can be made; 
 and He can make them whenever He chooses, exactly 
 and perfectly, as easily and quickly as you can speak a 
 word. 
 
 R. What do you mean, mother, when you say, 
 that God is skilful ? 
 
 M. Do you remember, that you told me, some 
 days ago, what skill is ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother. 
 
 M. Well, tell me again, what it is. 
 
 R. It is, after any body has contrived how to 
 make any thing, to get every thing ready, and put 
 all the parts together, just as they ought to be, so as 
 to have the thing well made, and to do all this, easily, 
 and exactly, without making any mistake. 
 F 2
 
 54 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. We do not get our skill at once. It takes us 
 a long time to get it. You had to make a good 
 many kites, before you was skilful in making one. 
 Little children are not skilful. They make a great 
 many mistakes, when they try to make any thing. 
 They must grow older, and often see other persons 
 do things, and have things explained to them, and 
 think a great deal, and use their hands a great deal, 
 before they can have skill in making, or doing things. 
 
 But God does not get His skill in this way. He 
 never has to learn, how to make or to do any thing. 
 His skill is perfect. By this I mean, that He never 
 makes the smallest mistake in making any thing, and 
 that He can make it at once, and without the least 
 difficulty, exactly as it is best it should be made. 
 
 When the most skilful man makes any thing, 
 other persons will, sometimes, see some way in 
 which it might be made a little better. 
 
 Nobody can see any way in which the things 
 which God has made, could be made at all better. 
 
 The arm and hand, with all their joints and parts, 
 could not be made better in any one thing, when we 
 consider the being for whom they were made ; the 
 body to which they belong ; and the uses for which 
 they were designed. 
 
 Can any body point out a way, in which any part 
 of the arm or hand could be made better ? Nobody 
 can. In them God shows us his perfect skill ; and 
 in all things which God has made, his skill is perfect. 
 
 This is some explanation of the skill of God. But
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 55 
 
 all that we know, or all that we can think, about it, 
 is very, very far below what it truly is. 
 
 The skill of God is one part of his wisdom ; 
 and He is wise, in knowing every thing, which it is 
 best should be done, or made ; and, also, in knowing 
 the very best way in which it should be done or made. 
 
 The wisdom of God is as much greater than our 
 wisdom, as this world is greater than one grain of 
 sand ; yes, as millions, and millions, and millions of 
 this world, would be greater than one such grain ; 
 and as many more worlds, added to these, as all the 
 people that ever lived could count, if they should do 
 nothing but count all their lives. 
 
 The wisdom of God is infinite. But come, look at 
 this drawing, and I will explain to you about the 
 wrist and hand. [See page 41.] 
 
 The wrist is made up of eight small bones (k), 
 which you see are of different sizes and shapes. 
 
 They are tied together very strongly by bands, or 
 ligaments, that go across them, and they make a sort 
 of ball, on which the other bones of the hand move. 
 You see, there are two rows of these eight bones. 
 Two, in the lower row (1, 2), are so put together, 
 that they form a ball, which fits in to a hollow place, 
 or socket, (1), in the end of the radius, and forms the 
 wrist -joint. 
 
 This joint at the wrist is very moveable. It is also 
 very strong ; for it is almost like a hinge-joint, the 
 hollow of the radius, and the ball of the bone that 
 fits into it, both being very long. It has a very free
 
 56 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 motion, too, for it turns with the radius, whenever 
 the radius turns. 
 
 The other two small bones, in the lower row, 
 (3, 4), are connected with the end of the ulna; but 
 they do not make an exact joint with it. They roll 
 upon it, and make the motions of the hand, at the 
 wrist joint, easier. 
 
 R. There are four bones, mother, in the upper 
 row. 
 
 M. Yes, and the one (5) next to the thumb, is a 
 pretty large one. It has a socket in which the ball 
 of the thumb moves. The second bone from this 
 (7), has a long, round head, which is joined with 
 the hollow of the bone below (2) ; so that it makes 
 a sort of ball and socket joint, by which the upper 
 row of bones moves upon the lower row. 
 
 All these eight bones, in the two rows, where 
 they were joined to each other, are covered with 
 smooth gristle (or cartilage, as it is also called). 
 This, you know, makes them move very easily. 
 They are bound firmly together, by a great many 
 cross ligaments of different kinds, and they make 
 something like one great joint, but much more flexible 
 than a single joint would be. 
 
 R. Mother, what does flexible mean ? 
 M. Can you bend this handiron ? 
 R. I cannot, but I can bend the handle of that 
 little whip that lies on the floor. 
 
 M. The handle of the whip is flexible, Robert, 
 but the handiron is not. The joint!? of your forefin-
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 57 
 
 ger make it very flexible. See, in how many diffe- 
 rent ways, you can bend it. 
 
 A blade of grass, too, is very flexible. An icicle 
 is not flexible. If you try to bend it, it immediately 
 breaks in two. 
 
 R. I think, there is no part of my body, mother, 
 which is so flexible as my hand and fingers. 
 
 M. You see the design of God, my son, in making 
 them so. Ten thousand, thousand different things, 
 which men and women learn to do, so curiously, so 
 quickly, and so easily, with their hands and fingers, 
 could not be done, if there were not so many joints, 
 and bones moving smoothly on each other, and thus 
 making the hands and fingers very flexible. 
 
 Look at the picture again, Robert. Above the 
 upper row of the eight bones, about which I have 
 been telling you, you see five long bones. 
 
 The bone under the thumb, has a large, round 
 head, which forms a ball and socket joint (m) with 
 the bone below it, about which I told you. 
 
 This gives the thumb a very wide and free motion, 
 which, as you may see, from using it with your fin- 
 gers, it was very necessary that it should have. 
 
 The other four bones (n), with which the fingers 
 are jointed, have flat and square heads, which set 
 very firmly upon the upper row of the eight bones 
 of the wrist. They are bound to these bones by 
 ligaments, and move but little upon them. 
 
 The thumb, you see, has but two bones, unless 
 you count the lower bone with a round head, which,
 
 58 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 perhaps, ought to be done ; and then the thumb will 
 have three bones, and three joints, just as the fingers 
 have. 
 
 The two upper joints of the thumb and fingers, 
 are hinge-joints ; and these joints are made very 
 strong, by ligaments on each side of them. 
 
 With the help of these joints, we can bend and 
 crook the thumb and fingers, so as to take hold of, 
 or grasp, any thing very firmly. And we can do 
 this so much the easier, and better, because the 
 thumb stands out from the fingers, on one side, and 
 is opposite to them. 
 
 You know, how exactly you can put your thumb 
 and fingers round your ball, so as to hold it very 
 tight. 
 
 How well, too, you can take hold of a rope, and 
 pull it, with your two hands. 
 
 And, it would seem, as if the thumb, and the two 
 fingers next to it, were made on purpose to write 
 with, and to sew with. What nice motions we can 
 make with them, and what very fine things we can 
 take hold of, and pick up with them. 
 
 R. The nails help a good deal, mother, in doing 
 that ; and so they do in untying hard knots. 
 
 M. That is true, my son, the nails, also, are a 
 very curious and useful part of the hand, 
 
 But, I have a little more to tell you about the 
 joints of the fingers- 
 
 The lower joints of the fingers, which we call the 
 knuckles, are ball and socket joints. The hollow
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 59 
 
 place is on the lower part of the finger bones, 
 which move on the round heads of the bones below 
 them (n). These joints give the fingers very free 
 and easy motions, and enable us to separate them 
 from each other, and to spread them out, like a fan. 
 
 If the middle joints of the thumb and fingers 
 were ball and socket joints, we could not take hold 
 of things, and clasp around them, so firmly with our 
 thumb and fingers, as we now do. 
 
 They would be as awkward and inconvenient, as, 
 I told you, a ball and socket joint at the elbow, 
 would be. 
 
 R. Mother, the hand is most curious and won- 
 derful, indeed ! I never thought, before, that it had 
 so many different parts, put together, just as they are. 
 
 M. And yet, my son, I have not told you about 
 many other parts of the arm and hand, quite as 
 curious and wonderful. 
 
 / have only told you about the bones, and joints, and 
 some of the ligaments. 
 
 But from these alone, you see, with how much 
 skill and goodness, God has made the arm and hand 
 for your use and comfort. Did you ever think, how 
 many things you can do with your arms and hands, 
 although you are but a little boy ? 
 
 R. I know I can do a great many things with 
 them, mother. But I can do one thing with my 
 fingers, that I have never told you about. 
 
 M. What is that ? 
 
 R. I can make the alphabet that the deaf and
 
 60 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 dumb use. A little boy taught it to me, a few 
 days ago. 
 
 M. That is another way in which the hand shows 
 the skill and goodness of God. 
 
 What would the deaf and dumb do, if they could 
 not talk with us on their fingers. It is curious to 
 see, with what astonishing quickness, they can make 
 all the bones and joints of their hands move, when 
 they spell words. 
 
 They can spell words four times faster, than the 
 best writer can write them, on paper, with a pen. 
 
 R. Mother, what is that makes the bones move 
 on the joints ? The door does not move on its hinges, 
 unless you pull it open, or push it back again. 
 
 M. I will tell you something about that, my son, 
 to-morrow evening. 
 
 Remember what I have already taught you ; and 
 if you should find that you have forgotten any thing, 
 I will tell you about it again. 
 
 Little boys and girls should not only endeavour to 
 understand what is taught them, but to remember 
 it, too. 
 
 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 ROBERT. Now, mother, please to explain to me, 
 what it is that makes the bones move on the joints. 
 
 MOTHER. I will, my son ; and you must continue 
 to be attentive, and not think about any thing, only 
 what we are talking about.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 61 
 
 Tie the end of this handkerchief to the knob of 
 that door, and open the door a very little. Then 
 stand as far as you can from the door, and hold the 
 other end of the handkerchief in your hand. [Robert 
 does so.] 
 
 R. T have, mother, now what shall I do ? 
 
 M. Pull the handkerchief. 
 
 R. I have, and the door opens further. 
 
 M. You see, too, Robert, how it turns on its 
 hinges. 
 
 R. I do, mother. 
 
 M. Now, shut the door again, but not so as to 
 latch it. Tie the loose end of the handkerchief to 
 the top of this chair on which I am sitting. 
 
 Now put your hand on the middle of the handker- 
 chief, and press it gently down towards the floor. 
 
 R. Mother, the door opens, just as it did before. 
 
 M. Shut it again, without latching it. 
 
 Now take hold of the handkerchief, near the mid- 
 dle, with both your hands, and let your hands be a 
 few inches apart. 
 
 R. I have done so, mother. 
 
 M. Bring your hands together, so that they may 
 touch each other. 
 
 R. I have, and again the door opens. 
 
 M. Well, you see, this last time, how the hand- 
 kerchief pulled the door open, because it was made 
 shorter, by your bringing your hands together. One 
 end of it was fastened tight to the chair, and this 
 end did not move, because the chair was firm in its
 
 62 THE YOUTH S BOOK 
 
 place. But the other end was drawn towards the 
 middle of the handkerchief, and drew the door open 
 with it, because the door was not latched, but could 
 be made to move easily on its hinges. 
 
 R. I understand all this, very well, mother, but 
 how does it explain the motions of the bones on the 
 joints ? 
 
 M. Have a little patience, my son, and you will 
 soon see. 
 
 Hand me the handkerchief. I am going to tie one 
 end of it round my neck ; and do you tie the other 
 round my wrist. [Mrs Stanhope and Robert do this.~\ 
 
 Now, Robert, take hold of the middle of the hand- 
 kerchief, with both your hands, as you did before. 
 Put them a little way apart, and, then, bring them 
 together. 
 
 R. It raises your hand up, mother, just as, before, 
 it pulled the door open. 
 
 M. Have you ever seen any thing shrink, Robert ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother ; you know when my gloves were 
 wet, last winter, and I put them near the fire, to 
 dry, they shrunk, so much that I could hardly get 
 them on. 
 
 M. Well, if there was any way of making the 
 handkerchief shrink in the middle, without any body's 
 touching it, it would raise my hand up, would 
 it not ? 
 
 R. Yes, I see it would, just as it did, when I 
 brought my hands together. 
 
 M. There is something very much like this,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 63 
 
 Robert, a kind of fleshy string in your arm, that 
 shrinks and pulls your hand up, every time that you 
 think to raise it, and bend your arm at the elbow. 
 This string is fastened to one bone above your elbow, 
 and to another bone below it. 
 
 R. What is it made of, mother ? 
 
 M. Do you see the fine silken threads in my hand- 
 kerchief ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother; how many of them there are, 
 and how close they are together. 
 
 M. If you should pull out some of these silken 
 threads, and split each one of them into a great 
 many finer threads, a hundred times finer than the 
 finest hair in your head, would they not be very fine ? 
 
 R. Oh ! yes, mother, very fine, indeed, and so 
 fine, I do not think I could see them, at all. 
 
 M. You might see them, however, by looking at 
 them, through the microscope which I showed you 
 the other day. 
 
 R. That instrument, mother, that had so many 
 curious glasses in it ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and you recollect you looked 
 through it, at a single hair. 
 
 R. I remember, mother. The hair looked as large 
 as a small cord. 
 
 M. Well, you might see the very fine threads, in 
 the same way ; for the microscope would magnify 
 them, that is, make them look a great deal larger 
 than they really were. 
 
 R. But a little fine thread, like these, mother,
 
 64 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 would not be strong enough to draw my hand up ! 
 
 M. A little patience, Robert. I have a good deal 
 to explain to you, yet. 
 
 Suppose, one of these very fine threads had wrap- 
 ped all round it, something very thin, fine, and soft, 
 making a kind of case, or sheath, for it. 
 
 R. Mother, nobody could see to do that, unless 
 they had eyes like microscopes ; and, then, the 
 thumb and fingers, even of a little infant, would be 
 too large and clumsy, to take old of such fine things. 
 
 M. Well, you know, you can suppose, that it 
 might be done ; or, at least, that God could make 
 it so. 
 
 R. Oh ! yes, mother, for He can make, or do, any 
 thing that He chooses. 
 
 M. Well, my son, God has made suck very small, 
 fine threads, and such sheaths for them, as I have 
 been telling you about, and they are in your arm, 
 and millions, and millions, and millions of them, are 
 in the different parts of your body. 
 
 R. But they are not made of silk, mother. 
 
 M. No, Robert, they are made of the same thing 
 that your flesh is made of. 
 
 A great many of these very small, fine threads, 
 with their sheaths round them, are laid regularly 
 side by side, so close, that it would be exceed- 
 ingly difficult to separate them with the finest, sharp- 
 est, penknife, and, then there is one, larger case, 
 that goes all around them ; keeping them very tight 
 together, and making a sort of small bundle of them.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 65 
 
 R. Mother, I should think, they would often get 
 broken, they are so very small and fine. 
 
 M. No, my son, God has made them so curiously, 
 and put them together with so much care and skill, 
 that hundreds and thousands of people, who live to 
 be very old, never have a single one of these small, 
 fine threads, broken. 
 
 R. Mother, this, I think, is the most wonderful 
 thing that you have told me about, yet. 
 
 M. It is, indeed, very wonderful, Robert ; but 
 our bodies are all full of wonders. We are fearfully, 
 and wonderfully, made. 
 
 But, I have something still more curious to tell 
 you about these small, fine threads, and the little 
 bundles into which they are made. 
 
 Several of these little bundles of threads, are laid, 
 each by the side of the other, or on the top of each 
 other, so as to make a little larger bundle. 
 
 This bundle, also, has a sheath, or case, round it. 
 
 Then, again, several of these larger bundles are 
 put together in the same way, making a still larger 
 bundle, with its sheath all round it. 
 
 Sometimes more, and sometimes fewer, of these 
 bundles are thus put together, till they make one 
 great bundle. 
 
 This largest bundle of all, made up of the smaller 
 ones, is called a muscle, and this, also, has a case, or 
 sheath, round it. 
 
 By putting so many of these very small, fine 
 threads so closely together in their cases, and bun- 
 
 G2
 
 66 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 dies, you see that a very strong muscle is made, a 
 great deal stronger to pull with than my handker- 
 chief is. 
 
 R. And is it such a muscle, mother, that pulls my 
 hand up, when I raise it ? 
 
 M. Yes my son ; and every motion that you can 
 make, in all the different parts of your body, when 
 you speak, or eat, or turn your eyes and head, or sit 
 down, or get up, or walk, or run, or hop, or jump, 
 or climb, or take any thing, or carry any thing, or 
 do any thing ; every motion that all the people make, 
 in all their different kinds of business ; every mo- 
 tion that all the beasts, and birds, and fishes make ; 
 all these motions are made by the help of the muscles. 
 
 R. Mother, I should like to see a muscle very much. 
 
 You can feel one, Robert, very easily. 
 
 Take hold of the inside of your arm, between the 
 elbow and shoulder, and squeeze it with your 
 thumb and fingers. 
 
 R. That is my flesh, mother. It is not hard, 
 like a bone, but quite soft. 
 
 M. Well, it is the same thing as a muscle ; you 
 feel the muscle, or bundle that is made up of the 
 smaller, and still smaller bundles of small, fine 
 threads, with their cases, inside each other. 
 
 Look at this drawing, and you will see some of 
 the muscles, in the arm and hand, 
 
 Look at this muscle (a). It it on the inside of 
 the arm. It is fastened, near the elbow, to a knob 
 of bone; on the inside of the shoulder-bone.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 67 
 
 You see, it goes along, down the arm, towards 
 the wrist. It grows narrower, and narrower, till 
 it looks like a cord (b). 
 
 This part, like a eord, is not muscle. It is made 
 up of a great many small, fine threads, but they are 
 so made and put together, that the cord which is 
 made out of them, is very different from a muscle. 
 
 This cord is called a tendon. 
 
 The tendons do not contract (or shrink), as the 
 muscles do. They are much harder and firmer 
 than the muscles are. They are very tough, and 
 strong, and very hard to be broken. 
 
 This tendon (b) looks like a part of the muscle, 
 and as if it grew out of it. But it does not. It is 
 fastened, however, very tight to the muscle, and 
 moves whenever the muscle does. 
 
 This tendon, you see, goes quite down to the wrist. 
 
 At the wrist, it is fastened, on the inside of the 
 hand, to the bone that lies directly under the lowest 
 bone of the fore-finger. 
 
 The muscle and the tendon, which are firmly
 
 68 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 joined together, you see make one string, the two 
 ends of which are fastened tight to two bones. 
 These bones have the joint at the wrist between 
 them, the joint at the end of the radius, which I 
 explained to you. 
 
 As soon, then, as the muscle (a) contracts, it pulls 
 the tendon (b) towards the muscle. The tendon 
 pulls the bone under the fore-finger, the same way ; 
 and so the hand bends at the wrist-joint towards 
 the inside of the arm. 
 
 R. But, mother, when you tied one end of the 
 handkerchief round your neck, and the other round 
 your wrist, to show me, how the arm moved at the 
 elbow-joint, the handkerchief went straight from the 
 wrist to your neck. 
 
 M. I know that, my son. The muscles and 
 tendons do not do so. If they did, they would be 
 outside of the arm. 
 
 R. That would look very bad, mother. 
 
 M. Yes, and it would be very inconvenient too. 
 
 God has shown us his great wisdom and good- 
 ness, in the way in which He has put together the 
 muscles and tendons, and bones and joints. There 
 are no less than forty-three muscles, with their 
 tendons ; and thirty bones, in the arm and hand; 
 besides ligaments, and many other parts about 
 which I have not had time to tell you. Yet all 
 these are packed very close together, within a small 
 space, and covered with the skin, so that we do not 
 see them, and we cannot touch them.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 69 
 
 They are packed closer a great deal than you 
 have seen me pack my clothes in a trunk. But 
 they do not get tangled with each other, nor rub 
 against each other, so as to do any harm ; nor 
 disturb each other, while they are moving in a 
 great many different ways. 
 
 Who could have done this, but He who has infi- 
 nite skill, and power, and goodness ! God alone, 
 the maker and preserver of all things, could have 
 done it ! 
 
 But before we stop, I wish to explain one thing 
 to you. To do it, I will tie one end of my hand- 
 kerchief to the fore-finger of your left hand, with 
 the knot on the inside. [3/rs. Stanhope does so.~] 
 
 Now, Robert, pull the handkerchief towards 
 your elbow, on the inside of your arm, keeping the 
 handkerchief close to the arm. 
 
 R. Mother, as soon as the wrist bends, the 
 handkerchief begins to rise from the arm ; and 
 when the wrist is bent as much as it can be, the 
 handkerchief is a good way from the arm. 
 
 M. Just so, my son, the tendon (b) would spring 
 up, if there was not a ligament, (or band), at the 
 wrist, to keep it down. You see this ligament (c), 
 and the tendon (b) goes under it. 
 
 R. Is it not harder, mother, to bend the wrist 
 than if there was no ligament there, and the tendon 
 was pulled straight from the hand to the elbow. 
 
 M. Yes. my son ; but the muscle is a very strong 
 one, and can pull hard enough. And you know
 
 70 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 how awkward and inconvenient it would be, to 
 have the muscle and tendon outside of the arm. 
 
 But, give me your own handkerchief, and let me 
 tie it round your wrist. Then my handkerchief 
 and yours will be just like the tendon and band. 
 [Mrs. Stanhope does so.] 
 
 Now pull my handkerchief, Robert, just as you 
 did before. 
 
 R. It raises the hand, mother, and bends the 
 wrist very well ; but I have to pull harder. 
 
 M. Very few of the muscles, my son, pull 
 straight. They and their tendons go under liga- 
 ments, and under, and across, and around other 
 muscles and tendons, and pull in a great many dif- 
 ferent ways. But they have great power, and can 
 pull as hard as is necessary. If it was not so, how 
 could so many of them be put together into your 
 little body, so as to make so many different kinds 
 of motions. 
 
 There are five hundred and twenty-seven muscles 
 in your body ; and every time that you breathe, one 
 hundred of these muscles are moved. 
 
 R. Mother, I am very much afraid, some of them 
 will get broken, or go wrong. 
 
 M. Why so, my dear ? God, who had the skill 
 and power to make them, and put them together, 
 did it so perfectly, that they get broken or go 
 wrong, very, very seldom indeed ; and, then, only 
 when some accident happens to us, or when we 
 have some disease.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 7 1 
 
 You need not be afraid to run, hop, and jump, 
 just as you have always done. That was one thing 
 for which your muscles were made. And you 
 should be truly thankful to God, that you can move 
 your limbs so quickly and easily, and play so brisk- 
 ly and happily. 
 
 You must soon begin, also, as your muscles grow 
 stronger, to use them in some kind of work. 
 
 This is another thing that they were made for. 
 God gave them to us, that we might be industri- 
 ous. You must learn to be industrious, and to 
 work with your hands. 
 
 This is the sure way to have a sound, healthy, 
 and strong body, and a cheerful and active mind. 
 Besides, you do not know how poor you may be, 
 so that you will be obliged to work, to earn money 
 to buy clothes and food, and to take care of your- 
 self. 
 
 Little boys that grow up, without learning at 
 all, to work with their hands, although they may 
 learn a great deal in books, often become quite 
 sick and weak, when they are men, and so cannot 
 use their knowledge for any good purpose. And, 
 sometimes, they cannot get any body to do any 
 thing for them, and they are helpless, like little in- 
 fants, and do not know how to do any thing for 
 themselves, and suffer a great deal. And, some- 
 times, they become poor, and cannot earn any 
 money, which they might very soon do, if they 
 knew how to labour with their hands.
 
 72 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. Mother, you know I love to carry in wood 
 for the parlour fire, and I will carry in a great deal 
 more, when I grow older, and saw and split it, too. 
 
 M. That is right, my son. Be industrious, and 
 that will keep you from evil, and be one of the 
 surest ways of making you happy. 
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 MOTHER. I have a few things yet to tell you, 
 Robert, about the muscles, that will show you still 
 more of the design, and skill, and goodness of God, 
 in making them as He has done. 
 
 ROBERT. I shall listen to you, mother, very at- 
 tentively. Many things that you tell me, are a great 
 deal more entertaining than what I read in my 
 story books. 
 
 M. I am glad to hear you say so, my son. 
 Think, too, how much more useful it is for you to 
 learn what is true, and what shows you the power, 
 and wisdom, and goodness of our Heavenly Father, 
 than to read stories which are not true, and which 
 often have not muclj in them that is improving or 
 useful. But come, we must begin to talk about the 
 muscles. 
 
 Tie your handkerchief again to the handle of the 
 lock on the door. [Robert does so.] 
 
 Now unlatch the door, and pull it open gently, 
 by pulling your handkerchief.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 73 
 
 After you stop pulling the handkerchief, does the 
 door shut again ? 
 
 R. No, mother, and it will not, unless I push it 
 to, again. 
 
 M. Suppose, I should tie my handkerchief to 
 the other handle of the lock, on the outside, and I 
 should stand in the entry, and pull my handker- 
 chief after you had done pulling your's. 
 
 R. You would pull the door to, mother. 
 
 M. Stretch out your arm as far as you can, 
 Robert, so as to have your hand just as high up, 
 from the floor, as your shoulder is. [Robert does so.] 
 
 M. Bend your arm at the elbow, so as to have 
 your hand touch your breast. 
 
 R. I thought to have it done, mother, and you 
 see, my hand went to my breast immediately. 
 
 M. You see, it stops there, and does not go 
 back again. The muscle inside of your arm, about 
 which I have told you, contracted, and pulled your 
 hand to your breast. But this same muscle can- 
 not pull your hand back again, any more than your 
 handkerchief, when you stood inside of the door 
 could pull it so as to make it shut. 
 
 R. Then, mother, there must be an outside muscle, 
 on the arm, to straighten it again, after I bend it at 
 the elbow. 
 
 M. You are right, Robert ; there are two such 
 
 muscles, and they are very strong ones. For if you 
 
 will try, you will find, that, after having bent your 
 
 arm, you can straighten it with a great deal of force. 
 
 H
 
 74 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 If you lift your whole arm up, at the shoulder- 
 joint, and then let it fall down of itself, it will do so, 
 just as the lid of a trunk does, if you let go of it, 
 after having raised it up. 
 
 But very often, in different kinds of work, men 
 want to bring the hand down quickly, and so as to 
 strike a hard blow. They want to do so, when 
 they cut wood, and when they drive nails with a 
 hammer. 
 
 The outside muscles of the arm enable them to do 
 this ; and here again, you see the design which 
 God had in making these muscles, and in placing 
 them just right to pull, exactly, in an opposite di- 
 rection from that in which some other muscles pull. 
 Unless they had pulled just in this manner, they would 
 have been of no use. 
 
 R. Do you remember, mother, when the two 
 men came to saw wood for us, how quickly they did 
 it. They had one long saw, with handles at each 
 end, and they stood on different sides of a stick of 
 wood, and, first, one man pulled the saw towards 
 him, and then the other man pulled it towards him, 
 and so they kept pulling it backwards and forwards. 
 Do not the muscles about which you have been 
 telling me, pull in some such way ? 
 
 M. They do, my son, and they are called anta- 
 gonist muscles. There are a great many of them 
 in our bodies. All the motions of our hands and 
 fingers are made with their help; and without 
 them, most of the motions that we make, would be
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 75 
 
 very awkward; many of them quite useless; 
 and some motions that we should very often want 
 to make, we could not make at all. 
 
 R. One thing, mother, about the muscles, I do 
 not understand. 
 
 M. What is that, my son ? 
 
 R. I understand pretty well, how they pull the 
 bones whenever they shrink ; but, mother, what 
 makes them shrink, just exactly when I think to 
 have any part of my body move ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son ; and what makes them con- 
 tract, S/OM% or quickly, just as you think to have 
 the motion slow or quick ; and, then to stop con- 
 tracting, just when you wish to have the motion 
 stop ; and to stop just as long as you wish to have 
 them ; and then to let the antagonist muscles pull 
 the other way, just when you think to have them 
 do so ! 
 
 Is not this very wonderful indeed, when you 
 think, how many thousand times your muscles do 
 all this, even in one day ? 
 
 R. It is, mother. I think, it is the most won- 
 derful thing that you have yet told me. Do explain 
 it to me. 
 
 M. I know hardly any thing about it, Robert. 
 The wisest men who have studied about it a great 
 deal, are as ignorant as you and I are, and cannot 
 explain it. 
 
 All that they know is, that there are a great many 
 cords, or strings, made up of very fine threads, that
 
 76 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 go from a part of the head, called the brain, and 
 also from the inside of the back-bone, which is 
 filled with something that is connected with the 
 brain, all over the body ; and that, without these 
 cords, we could not see, nor hear, nor smell, nor 
 taste, nor feel ; and that without them, the mus- 
 cles would not contract, when we wish any part of 
 the body to move. 
 
 R. What are these cords called, mother? 
 
 M. They are called nerves. They run into the 
 muscles, and by the side of the smaller bundles and 
 threads of the muscles ; so that every muscle has a 
 great many of these nerves. 
 
 Now, when you think to have your hand bend 
 at the wrist ; your thinking, somehow or other, by the 
 help of the brain, and of the nerves which go to the mus- 
 cle that bends your wrist, makes that muscle contract, 
 and immediately your wrist is bent. 
 
 How the nerves help to do this, or how they 
 make the muscle contract, nobody knows. The 
 wisest men only know, that it is so ; but of the way 
 in which it is done, they are just as ignorant as a 
 little child. 
 
 They have found out that, if the nerves belong- 
 ing to any muscle are weakened or destroyed by 
 sickness or disease, then that muscle will not con- 
 tract, as it did before, although the person thinks, 
 and wishes ever so much, to have that part of the 
 body move, which the muscle was made to move. 
 
 The nerves do the errand from the mind to the
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 77 
 
 muscle ; and the muscle will not obey the mind, 
 unless the nerves are well and strong, and do the 
 errand faithfully. 
 
 R. God knows, mother, how the nerves make 
 the muscles contract ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, for He made them both ; and 
 He made them to act together as they do. 
 
 If I had time to explain to you about all the nerves 
 in the body ; how some go to your eye, and help 
 you to see ; and some to your ear, and to your nose, 
 and to your tongue, and help you to hear, and smell, 
 and taste ; and a great many others to all parts of 
 your body, so that you have feeling all over it; 
 and, then, how a great many others go to all the 
 muscles, and help you to make all the different 
 kinds of motions that you do ; you would wonder 
 still more and more at the wisdom, and skill, and 
 goodness, of God, and see his design in making 
 all these curious parts of your body just as He has 
 made them. 
 
 R. Mother, do tell me about some other parts of 
 the body. I suppose, there are some more curious 
 than any you have told me about yet. 
 
 M. There are so, Robert ; but I believe, you 
 must wait till you grow a little older, for, then, you 
 will understand the explanations of the different 
 parts of the body much better than you can now. 
 
 But I have one thing more to tell you about the 
 nerves and muscles, to show you how wonderfully 
 God has made them to work together, for our benefit, 
 ii -2
 
 78 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. What is that, mother ? 
 
 M. Do you ever know what I mean, when I do 
 not speak to you ? 
 
 Sometimes, I can guess what you mean, mother, 
 from your looks. I can easily tell, whether you are 
 glad or sorry, and whether you are pleased with me, 
 or not. It always makes me feel sorry to see you 
 look so. 
 
 M. Suppose, I should always wear a veil over 
 my face, so that you could not see it, when I was 
 talking with you. 
 
 R. Oh! I should not like that at all, mother. 
 I like to see your eyes move about, and the differ- 
 ent parts of your face move, and look so differently, 
 at different times. 
 
 When you tell me stories, or explain things to 
 me, I can understand you much better when I see 
 your face, and look straight at you, in your eyes. 
 
 M. That is true, my son; and I can almost 
 always tell, by your looks, when I first see you in 
 the morning, whether you have got up a pleasant, 
 and good boy. 
 
 And when you were a little infant, you could not 
 speak and tell me, that you were in pain, or felt un- 
 easy, but I knew if you were, by looking at your 
 face. 
 
 And you learned a great deal, at that time, by 
 looking at my face. You could not understand 
 my words ; but you very soon began to understand 
 my looks.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 79 
 
 R. Oh ! mother, do you not remember, when 
 we were at aunt Mary's, how my little cousin, Jane, 
 would look, and look, right at her face, for a great 
 while. 
 
 M. Yes, my dear ; and you remember, too, that, 
 when Jane fretted and cried, when nothing was the 
 matter, how your aunt would look a little cross at 
 her, and shake her head, and Jane would be still 
 almost instantly. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and often I am more afraid of 
 you, when you only look at me, than I am, when you 
 speak to me, for doing wrong. 
 
 M. And when you are a good boy, and I pat you 
 on the cheek, and look pleasantly at you, how do 
 you feel then ? 
 
 R. I feel very happy, mother ; / like to see your 
 looks, then. It almost seems, as if you were speak- 
 ing to me, and saying, that you love me for being a 
 good boy. 
 
 But I know another time, mother, when y out- 
 looks did me a great deal of good. 
 
 M. When was that ? 
 
 R. When I was so sick on my little bed, and 
 you had to send for the doctor. You sat by me, 
 and took hold of my hand, and looked as if you felt 
 sorry for me, and wished to do every thing to make 
 me better. I think your looks really did me a 
 great deal of good. 
 
 M. And you remember, too, Robert, what a 
 kind man the doctor was.
 
 80 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. Oh ! yes ; he looked very kindly at me, and 
 that, too, made me feel better, and hope, I should 
 get well. Mother, I think, doctors should take a 
 great deal of care, always to look pleasantly and 
 kindly, when they go to see people who are sick. 
 
 M. We should all of us, my son, try to look 
 pleasantly and kindly, at all times ; and then, we 
 shall, hoth make others happier, and feel more 
 happy ourselves. 
 
 The doctor, too, is often able to learn a great 
 deal from the looks of the persons who are sick, 
 when he sees them, the first time ; and to tell, 
 when he sees them afterwards, whether they are 
 getting better or worse. 
 
 R. Mother, I never knew before, how useful 
 it is, to have our faces look so differently at different 
 times, and show what we think, and what we feel. 
 
 M. God knew, my son, how necessary it would 
 be for our comfort, that it should be so, and you 
 see how curiously, and with what wonderful de- 
 sign and skill, he has made the different parts of 
 the face, and the muscles and nerves, which help 
 these parts to move, in so many different ways. 
 
 R. Mother, are there a good many muscles to 
 move our eyes, and all the different parts of our 
 face. 
 
 M. There are, my son, and by their help, we 
 can look,, almost, if not quite, as many different 
 ways, as we can think, or feel. 
 
 How many different ways a little child moves
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 81 
 
 his mouth and lips, when he feels pleasant or unplea- 
 sant ; kind or cross ; mild or angry ; patient or 
 impatient ; contented or fretful ; when he smiles, 
 or laughs, or pouts, or cries. 
 
 How many different ways, too, he moves his 
 mouth and lips, when he breathes, and speaks, and 
 chews, and swallows. 
 
 To open and move the mouth and lips, in all the 
 different ways that we can, a number of muscles 
 is necessary. Now, when one of these pulls one 
 way, you know, there must be another muscle, to 
 pull back again, the other way, which, you recollect, 
 I told you, is called, an antagonist muscle, 
 
 R. I hardly see, mother, how there can be room 
 for so many different muscles, and the antagonist 
 muscles too, about the mouth and lips. 
 
 M. The truth is, Robert, there is only one anta- 
 gonist muscle, which is so curiously made and 
 placed, that it can pull all sorts of ways, so as to 
 pull back all the other muscles, by itself alone. 
 R. Where is it placed, mother ? 
 M. It is all round the mouth, about an inch 
 in breadth. It is the thick, fleshy part of the lips. 
 It lies in the red part of the lips, and it is fastened 
 at the two corners of the mouth. Its use is, to be 
 an antagonist muscle to a great many others that 
 move the mouth and lips, and to shut up the mouth 
 so tight, that if you blow ever so hard, it can keep 
 the breath in your mouth.
 
 82 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. How far it can be stretched, mother, and 
 then how small it can contract itself ! 
 
 M. Yes, it is both a very elastic, and a very 
 strong, muscle. It is round, for a straight muscle 
 could not have pulled so many different ways, and 
 it is placed just where a round muscle was wanted. 
 It helps, too, to form part of the mouth and lips ; 
 and there are a good many letters and words 
 which we could not speak, if we did not have this 
 curious muscle. 
 
 R. How many, many different things had to 
 be made, and exactly put together, mother, to make 
 our bodies just what they should be ! 
 
 M. That is true, my son ; I might keep on ex- 
 plaining to you, even about the muscles alone, and 
 every one of them would show you the wonderful 
 design, and contrivance, and skill, and great good- 
 ness, too, of the Almighty Being who made us. 
 
 But we have talked enough for this time. I shall 
 tell you a little more about the muscles and nerves, 
 this evening. 
 
 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 ROBERT. Is there any other round muscle, mother, 
 besides the one that goes round the mouth ? 
 
 MOTHER. Yes, there is one that goes all round 
 the eye. It lies directly under the skin of the up-
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 83 
 
 per and lower eyelids, and is very flat and thin. 
 It is fastened to a little knob on the upper jaw- 
 bone, quite in the inner corner of the eye, close to 
 the nose. If you put your finger carefully there, 
 you will feel the tendon, which fastens it, like a 
 little knot. 
 
 It goes, from this tendon over the upper eyelid, 
 round the outer corner of the eye, over the lower 
 eyelid, and so, back again, to the tendon. 
 
 This curious little muscle helps us to shut up the 
 eye, which, you know, we often want to do ; and, 
 if any tiling gets into the eye, it squeezes very hard 
 and often squeezes it out. 
 
 When persons weep, it is this muscle, too, which 
 presses the ball of the eye down, and squeezes 
 something like a small piece of spongy flesh, that 
 makes the tears, and they flow out. 
 
 R. Mother, it seems to make me feel easier 
 sometimes, to weep. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, there are times when our 
 pain, or our sorrow, causes us to weep, and it is a 
 great relief to us, to shed tears. 
 
 God knew, that it would be so, and he made this 
 curious muscle, and the small piece of spongy flesh, 
 which is called a gland, and the other parts of the 
 eye, so that we might get this relief. 
 
 I knew a lady who could not shed a tear, even 
 when she was in the greatest pain, or sorrow. The 
 gland, which makes the tears, had been destroyed 
 by severe sickness ; and although she often tried
 
 84 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 to weep, and strained the muscle, about which I 
 have been telling you, as hard as she could, she 
 could not shed a single tear. She told me, she 
 did not know before that severe sickness, how ex- 
 ceedingly distressing it was, never to be able to 
 weep. She said, oh ! how much she would give, 
 to be able to weep, sometimes ! 
 
 A friend of mine was acquainted with a gentle- 
 man in England, who could not open his right eye, 
 unless he raised the eyelid with his fingers. This 
 was quite an affliction to him. His right eye was 
 perfectly sound, and when the eyelid was raised, 
 he could see as well with that eye, as with the 
 other. 
 
 R. What was the reason of that, mother ? 
 M. The muscle which lifts up the eyelid, or 
 the nerve which helps the muscle to move, was 
 weakened, or destroyed. 
 
 So you see, how much your comfort depends 
 upon all these muscles and nerves, even the smallest 
 of them, which God has so curiously made and put 
 together, and which he so kindly keeps in perfect 
 order. 
 
 Watches, you know, often get quite out of order ; 
 and even the very best of them, will not always go 
 exactly right. We are obliged to send them to a 
 skilful watchmaker, to have them put in order again. 
 Now, our bodies are made up of a thousand, and 
 thousand times more parts than a watch has, and 
 much more curious parts, too, more difficult to put
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 85 
 
 together, and to have them all fit each other, and 
 always go right. 
 
 R. Mother, I think no parts of a watch are any 
 thing like so curious, as the muscles and nerves. 
 
 M. That is true, my son ; and when we con- 
 sider, how perfectly all the parts of our hody are 
 made, and put together, for the thousand different 
 uses for which they were designed, and, still more, 
 that in most persons, they keep on going exactly right, 
 what is the contrivance and skill of the man who 
 makes a watch, to that of the Creator and Preserver 
 of our bodies ! 
 
 R. I wonder, people do not think more of this, 
 mother ! 
 
 M. It is, indeed, not only wonderful, my son, 
 but, it shows, how stupid and ungrateful they are. 
 
 How thankful most persons would be, if any 
 body should give them a beautiful, gold watch, that 
 cost a very high price, and was one of the best that 
 could be made. 
 
 They would be often looking at it, and admiring 
 it, and showing it to others, and talking about it, 
 and feeling very thankful to the kind friend who 
 gave it to them. 
 
 Our arm and hand is vastly more wonderful, and use- 
 ful to us, than the best and most costly watch would 
 be, and yet, how seldom we think of this, or talk 
 about it, and feel grateful to our kind Heavenly 
 Father, who made this part, and all the parts of 
 our bodies for our use and comfort !
 
 86 
 
 THE YOUTH S BOOK 
 
 R. Mother, I think about it a good deal. 
 
 M. I hope, you will continue to do so, my son, 
 and to feel more and more thankful to God, for all 
 his goodness to you. 
 
 R. Mother, you have been telling me about many 
 of the muscles in the face ; I should think there 
 must be a great many nerves, to go with them, and 
 to help them to act. 
 
 M. There are so, Robert, and here is a drawing, 
 in which you will see a good many of them.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 87 
 
 R. Mother, this side of the face is full of them ; 
 are there as many on the other side ? 
 
 M. Just as many, exactly, and they go in dif- 
 ferent directions, just as these do. 
 
 R. Do they all do the same thing ? 
 
 M. No, my son, some of them go to the eyes, 
 that we may see ; and some to the ears, that we 
 may hear ; and some to the nose, that we may 
 smell ; and some to the tongue, that we may taste ; 
 and some to the mouth, and lips, and throat, that 
 we may eat, and swallow, and speak ; a good 
 many go to all parts of the face, so that we may 
 feel, if any thing hurts us, and put it away, or, if 
 the face is wounded or injured, take care of it ; 
 some of the nerves go to muscles , and help them to 
 move, even if we do not think to have them move; 
 and most of these, and some others, also, tell the 
 muscles to move, whenever we wish to have them do so. 
 
 R. How do muscles move, mother, when we do 
 not think to have them move ? 
 
 M. Does a little child think to draw in the air 
 and blow it out again, every time that he breathes ? 
 
 R. No, mother, and you do not, nor I. But I 
 can stop breathing, if I choose. 
 
 M. Yes, for a very little w-hile. But, if you were 
 to try to do so long, you would find, that you would 
 soon have to breathe again, in spite of yourself. 
 
 R. You told me, mother, that a hundred muscles 
 are moved, every time that we breathe. 
 
 M. I did so ; and you see, that not only one
 
 88 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 muscle but a hundred, are moved continually, with- 
 out our thinking to have them move. 
 
 R. But what is the use, mother, in having any of 
 the muscles of the face move, if we do not think to 
 have them move ? 
 
 M. Did you ever wink your eyes, without thinking 
 of doing it ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother, a great many times. They 
 keep winking constantly. Why do they keep 
 winking so ? 
 
 M. You remember, I told you about the tears, 
 and about that something like a small piece of 
 spongy flesh, called a gland, which makes them. 
 
 Tears are very useful for something more, than to 
 give us relief by weeping. They moisten the eye, 
 and keep it clean and smooth, so that it moves 
 easily. 
 
 The tears keep coming all the while from the 
 gland, through a great many small tubes, which 
 run in the upper eyelid, and they are spread, by the 
 motion of this eyelid, and the lower one, when they 
 wink, all over the forepart of the eye. 
 
 If more tears come than are needed to moisten 
 and to clean the eye, they are carried through two 
 very little holes in the eyelids, to a small bag, near 
 the inside corner of the eye, and then through a 
 hole in the bone, as large as a goose-quill, to the 
 inside of the nose. 
 
 They are, then, spread over the inside of the nos- 
 tril, and the warm air, that is, all the while, passing
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 89 
 
 up and down, as we breathe, dries them up, almost 
 instantly. 
 
 But there is another reason, why your eyelids 
 wink of themselves. It is to keep off any thing 
 that may be coming too near the eye, to hurt it, 
 any little insect, or any little particles of dust. 
 The eyelashes, too, were made for the same purpose. 
 
 So that you see, in how many different ways. 
 God has taken care that the eye should be kept in 
 order, and be kept safe from injury 
 
 But this is not the one hundredth part of what is 
 most curious and wonderful, that I could tell you, 
 about the eye. You shall read all about it when 
 you grow older, and are better able to understand 
 it. For some things about it, it would be very dif- 
 ficult, indeed, if not impossible, for you to under- 
 stand now. 
 
 R. When I grow a few years older, I mean to 
 study all about the different parts of the body, if 
 you will let me. 
 
 M. I shall have no objection, my son, especially 
 if you should be a physician ; but you must be very 
 industrious, and learn a good many other things, 
 first. 
 
 R. Mother, I want to ask you one question about 
 the nerves. 
 
 M. Do, my son, as many as you choose. 
 
 R. You have showed me a drawing of the nerves, 
 which go all over the face. Do all these nerves 
 help us to look so very differently, at different times ? 
 i 2
 
 90 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. No, my son, it is only one set of them which 
 is principally concerned in doing this. You see the 
 branch of nerves which is just before the ear (a) 
 [See page 86.] 
 
 That is the one which, somehow or other, makes 
 the muscles move that draw the parts of the face, 
 when we look so differently, at different times. 
 
 Those different looks are called expressions, and 
 when a person has them often, and so as to show 
 strongly what he means, or what he feels, we say, 
 he has an expressive countenance. 
 
 R. Mother, I like to see an expressive counte- 
 nance, for, then, I can understand people much 
 better. 
 
 M. That is true, Robert. The expressions of the 
 countenance, seem to be the very coming out of 
 the soul. 
 
 Many animals, you know, have no such expres- 
 sions of face at all ; and none of them have any 
 thing like the different kinds, the beauty, the 
 strength, and the meaning, which the expressions of 
 the human face have. 
 
 R. Mother, a dog sometimes has meaning in his 
 face. 
 
 M. He has, Robert, but only think how much 
 more a little child has. 
 
 A dog expresses a very few things by his face. 
 A man can express, oh ! how many different kinds 
 of thoughts, and feelings, in his countenance. 
 
 R. I have often been amused, mother, to see the
 
 ON XATURAL THEOLOGY. 91 
 
 deaf and dumb talking with each other, they have 
 so many different kinds of expressions, in their 
 countenances. 
 
 M. If they had not, my son, they could not un- 
 derstand each other as well as they do; and they 
 could not understand each other, at all, about some 
 things. 
 
 R. I should think, mother, their teachers would, 
 sometimes, grow very tired, they have to make so 
 many different kinds of expressions of countenance. 
 
 M. I dare say, they do ; but without all these 
 different expressions, it would be quite impossible to 
 teach the deaf and dumb the meaning of a great 
 many words ; so that they would not be able to 
 learn how to read and write. 
 
 R. God has been very kind to them, mother, in 
 making so many muscles and nerves, for the face, 
 to give it expression. 
 
 M. He has, my son ; and this, I think, is the most 
 wonderful part of the human body, and shows more 
 than any other, the design, the contrivance, the skill 
 and the goodness, of God. 
 
 When you see the picture of Abraham offering up 
 Isaac, in the parlour, do you think it could have 
 been made by chance ? 
 
 R. No, mother. Chance, sometimes, makes 
 something like trees and houses, on the panes of 
 glass, in the winter, when they are covered with 
 frost ; but I know that chance could never make any 
 thing, at all, like that picture of Abraham and Isaac.
 
 92 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. It is not proper, Robert, to say that chance 
 makes, even, the little trees and houses, on the win- 
 dows, in winter. It is God who makes the cold, 
 and the frost, just so as to have the glass covered 
 with all the different shapes of things, that you see. 
 
 If you were to take a handful of little pins, and 
 throw them up, in the air, over the table, and they 
 should fall down upon it, into beautiful shapes of 
 houses, and trees, and animals, that might be said 
 to happen by chance. 
 
 R. It could never happen so, mother. 
 
 M. If once in a hundred times, Robert, one shape 
 should look a little like a house, or a tree, or, once 
 in ten thousand times throwing them up, one should 
 look like an elephant, you would wonder at it very 
 much. 
 
 R. I should, mother, but I do not wonder at 
 merely seeing a picture, because I know, a painter 
 made it. 
 
 M. But do you not wonder at the skill of the 
 painter, in giving such fine, and meaning expres- 
 sions to the countenances of Abraham and Isaac ? 
 
 R. I do, mother, it has made me weep, some- 
 times, to look at it. 
 
 M. Now, think, Robert, how long the painter 
 had to be learning ; how much he had to notice the 
 human countenance ; and how many pictures he 
 had to draw, and how he had to keep slowly im- 
 proving himself, till at last, he was able to draw the 
 picture which you know every body admires so much.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 93 
 
 R. Did it take him a year, to do all this, mother ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, many years ; and I dare say, if 
 he could see the picture now, he could show you 
 some things in it, that he could make better. 
 
 Then, think, that in making this picture, he had 
 first to design it ; how he would draw Abraham 
 and Isaac, and how he would make them look. He 
 had, too, to prepare all his paints, of many different 
 colours, and his brushes, of different sizes, very 
 nicely ; and when he began to draw, he had to do 
 it very carefully ; and often to stop and think ; and 
 he had to put on a little more paint in one place, 
 and in another, or some of a different colour, before 
 he could get it to suit him ; and, then, he had to go 
 back from the drawing and look at it, and make 
 some more alterations ; and, after working, in this 
 slow and patient way, for a long time, he had to ask 
 some friends to look at it, and to tell him, if it had 
 any faults ; and, then, he had to go to work again, 
 and to try to remove these faults ; and so, after 
 months of thought and labour, he made the beau- 
 tiful picture which you now see. 
 
 If this picture shows you, from the design, and 
 contrivance, and skill, which appear in it, that it 
 must have been made by some one, and by a painter 
 who had a great deal of design, and contrivance, 
 and skill, what must we think, when we see so many 
 hundreds and thousands of human countenances, and 
 even those of little children, having so many different, 
 and fine expressions ?
 
 94 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. We cannot but think, mother, that some one 
 made them, and gave them these expressions. We 
 know, that God did it, and that his design and skill, 
 and contrivance, in doing it, were very, very great, 
 indeed. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and there is one thing, in which 
 the human countenance far, far exceeds that drawn 
 by the most skilful painter. 
 
 R. What is that, mother ? 
 
 M. The painter can give the face that he draws, 
 but one, single expression, and that remains always 
 the same. 
 
 R. But the human face has the power of chang- 
 ing its expressions, as quick as we can think, or feel. 
 
 Should the painter wish to give a new expression 
 to the face which he has drawn, he must work at it 
 again ; or, what is more probable, he must draw a 
 new one. 
 
 The motion of a few nerves and muscles, in an 
 instant, gives new expression to our faces, and 
 speaks, before we can think of it, the language of 
 our souls. 
 
 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 MOTHER. I have something more to say to you, 
 my son, of the curious and wonderful way in which 
 God has made our faces, so that they can speak the 
 language of our souls.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 95 
 
 ROBERT. Mother, have the beasts such muscles 
 and nerves as we have, to give expression to their 
 faces ? 
 
 M. That was one thing which I was going to 
 tell you. Some of them have some muscles and 
 nerves, in their faces, like ours ; but none of them 
 as many ; and most of them have very few, indeed. 
 
 R. That is the reason, I suppose, mother, why 
 they have so little meaning in their faces. 
 
 M. It is one reason. Besides, you know, they 
 have no soul like ours. They do not think and feel, 
 as we do. They have no feelings about what is 
 right and wrong. But, even, if they had a soul like 
 ours, it could not show itself, its thoughts, and its 
 feelings, on their faces, as our souls do ; because 
 they have not the muscles and nerves, that are ne- 
 cessary to give all kinds of expression to the face. 
 
 R. I am very glad, mother, that God has made 
 our faces so different from those of the beasts. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and if it was not so, only think, 
 how stupid and dull we should all look. 
 
 The little infant would not, as it does now, de- 
 light to look and look at its mother's face ; and there 
 first begin to learn, that its mother loves it dearly, 
 is glad, when it is happy, and is sorry, when it is 
 in pain. 
 
 And the little infant would not learn the meaning 
 of a great many words which are spoken to it ; if 
 the looks of the person who speaks to it, did not 
 help it to understand the meaning of the words.
 
 96 THE YOUTH'S BOOK. 
 
 If the little infant, too, did not smile, and weep, 
 and look happy, and look troubled ; how difficult it 
 would often be, for the mother to know when it was 
 well, or sick ; easy, or in pain. 
 
 How could parents govern their children ; if they 
 did not show by their eye, and by their looks, when 
 they are pleased, and when they are displeased, 
 and when they really mean, that the children shall do, 
 just as they are told to do. 
 
 R. Mother, you know, I went to school, a little 
 while, when you took a short journey. 
 M. I remember it ; but what then ? 
 R. The master said hardly any thing, at all, to 
 make the scholars mind him. But he kept looking 
 about, all the while ; and his eye, and his looks, and 
 a little shake of his head, and, sometimes, of his fin- 
 ger, kept the whole school in order. 
 
 M. It would be well, my son, if all who keep 
 school, would learn to do as he did. 
 
 Here, you see, is another very important purpose, 
 for which God made the human face to have so 
 many different kinds of expression, that one person 
 might be the better able to govern others. 
 
 And, if our faces did not have these different kinds 
 of expression ; how difficult it would, often, be for 
 us to know whether others felt happy, to see us hap- 
 py, or sorry, to see us sorry. 
 
 To feel so, is called sympathy, and, when persons 
 feel so, we say, that they sympathize with vs. 
 
 How miserable we should be, if no one ever sympa-
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 97 
 
 thized with us, when we are in trouble ! And, if 
 we are ever so happy, who wishes to be happy all 
 alone ? 
 
 Suppose, when your aunt comes to see you, after 
 not having seen you for a long time, and shakes 
 hands with you, and kisses you, her face should 
 have no more expression than that of your sister's 
 little doll. 
 
 R. I should not think, the kiss was worth much, 
 mother. 
 
 M. Or, suppose, when the doctor came to see 
 you, he had looked, as if he did not feel at all sorry, 
 that you was sick, but only came to tell what must 
 be done for you, just as you, sometimes, tell Tray, 
 to go and drive the ducks away from the kitchen door. 
 
 R. I am afraid, mother, it would have made me 
 more sick. 
 
 M. Well, so I could go on, Robert, to tell you of 
 a great many other ways, in which it is very impor- 
 tant, and useful, and pleasant, that our faces should 
 have many, different kinds of expression ; so, that 
 if they did not, we should feel very uncomfortable, 
 and often miserable, in seeing, and talking with, our 
 fellow men. 
 
 And, if different faces had not different looks, do 
 you think, we could always tell one person from 
 another ? 
 
 R. We might, some persons, mother, because 
 their faces are larger, or smaller, or lighter, or darker, 
 or are shaped differently. 
 K
 
 98 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. That is true ; but I think, there are but few 
 that we should always know in these ways. 
 
 Almost every body has some looks, and expres- 
 sions, which belong to himself, which he commonly 
 has, and which others do not have, or not so com- 
 monly as he has. 
 
 It is this which principally helps us to know the 
 same person at all times, and to know different per- 
 sons, so as not to mistake one for another. 
 
 Did you ever think, how many mistakes we should 
 be constantly making, and how much trouble and 
 confusion there would be, if we could not, very soon, 
 tell one person from another ? 
 
 R. I never did, mother, but I see it now. People, 
 then, would look to us, just as a flock of sheep do, 
 a great many of them, exactly alike. 
 
 M. Yes my son ; and thus, you see, that there is 
 still another important reason, why God has given 
 so many different looks, and expressions, to human 
 faces, and in doing it, He shows you his wonder- 
 ful design, contrivance, skill, and goodness. 
 
 R. It is, indeed, wonderful, mother, that while 
 there are thousands and millions of people in the 
 world, hardly any two of them look exactly alike. 
 It is strange, that I never thought of this before. 
 
 M. It is so common a thing, that we do not think 
 of it. But it is not the less wonderful, because it is 
 common. Often the most common things show us 
 most of the wisdom and goodness of God, and this 
 is one of them.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 99 
 
 How wonderful ! Here is a soul, or spirit, within 
 us, not like any thing that we can see, or hear, or 
 smell, or taste, or touch, but wholly unlike it. 
 This soul is in a body made up of a thousand, curi- 
 ous, different parts. These parts are made, and put 
 together, so as to be exactly suited to each other, 
 and to the whole body. Nothing is in the wrong 
 place ; and nothing goes wrong ; unless the body is 
 sick, or is hurt. 
 
 All this is done, that the body may eat, and drink, 
 and sleep, and live ; just as the bodies of beasts do ? 
 Oh ! no. This curious body is made, and kept 
 alive, and all its parts in order, that it may be a pro- 
 per and convenient body for the soul to be in, and 
 use for its own improvement, and comfort, and hap- 
 piness, and for that of others. 
 
 For our very bodies are so made, as to show us, 
 that God designed, that we should live and act, not for 
 ourselves alone, but for others, and, that we should do 
 all we can, to make each other good, and happy. 
 
 The muscles and nerves of the face, are one, very 
 striking proof of this. 
 
 You have seen what some of them were made for, 
 to give expression to the face, and for this purpose 
 only. 
 
 How wonderful ! the soul, that immaterial some- 
 thing within us, showing its secret thoughts and feel- 
 ings, on a part of our material body, by the help of 
 a great many, curious nerves and muscles, that move 
 the face in a thousand different ways ; sometimes
 
 100 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 when we think to have them move so, and sometimes, 
 when we do not. 
 
 This soul, thus shows its thoughts and feelings, 
 that they may be seen, and understood, and felt, by 
 other souls, like itself, dwelling in other bodies, like 
 the body in which it dwells. 
 
 And, thus, these souls are the better able to know 
 each other ; to converse with each other ; and to 
 sympathize with each other ; to aid each other ; and 
 to make each other good and happy. 
 
 Who but the Infinite and Eternal Mind, the great 
 Spirit, whom we call God, could have so made our 
 souls and bodies, and given these wonderful powers 
 of expression to our faces. 
 
 Who that looks on the human face, can doubt, for 
 one moment, that there is a God. of great power, and 
 wisdom, and skill, and goodness ? 
 
 R. I am sure, / cannot, mother, and I do not think 
 that any body else can. 
 
 M. You see, my son, not only the design, and 
 contrivance, and skill of God, in having made your 
 face as He has ; but his goodness, also, in making 
 its various expressions, the means of your own hap- 
 piness, and of that of others. 
 
 Remember, how ungrateful you are for all this 
 goodness, and what a bad use you make of your cu- 
 rious and wonderful countenance, when you think 
 and feel wrong ; and these wrong thoughts and feel- 
 ings show themselves in your countenance, and,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 101 
 
 thus, make yourself even more unhappy, and others, 
 unhappy, too, in looking at you. 
 
 R. Mother, you know the man that struck me, in 
 the street, one day, what an ugly-looking face he 
 has. 
 
 M. And do you learn from it, not to have any 
 wrong thoughts and feelings. He has been so often 
 angry, and in a great rage, that now, he looks angry, 
 almost all the time. He can hardly look pleasant, 
 if he tries. 
 
 R. How different uncle John looks, mother. 
 
 M. And why, Robert ? Because he has, for a long 
 time, had kind and benevolent feelings, desiring 
 to love and obey God, and to do good to others ; 
 peaceful and happy himself, and delighted to make, 
 and to see, others so. 
 
 Do you endeavour to feel, and to do, so. Pray to 
 God, to enable you to feel, and to do, so. Never 
 even think of saying any thing that is not true. Be 
 frank, and tell what you know, whenever you ought 
 to tell it ; and, if, at any time, persons ask you to 
 tell them things which you ought not to tell them, 
 refuse to do it, mildly but firmly. Strive against 
 all wrong thoughts and feelings. Endeavour to 
 have kind and generous ones. Seek to make others 
 happy. Above all, love, fear, and obey, God ; and 
 looking to Him for help, endeavour to do your duty. 
 Then be afraid of nothing, and of nobody. 
 
 When you are speaking to others, look them full 
 
 K 2
 
 102 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 in the face. Do not try to hide your feelings. Let 
 them show themselves in your countenance. Let 
 your eye, and your countenance, have all the expres- 
 sion which your feelings would give. 
 
 Do all this. Try to do it, And your face will 
 acquire habits of expression that will make you feel 
 happy yourself, and increase the happiness of others. 
 
 In this way you will best show your thankfulness 
 to God, for giving you the power of expression in your 
 countenance, and you will make that use of this 
 power, which will do the most good to yourself, and 
 to others. 
 
 R. Mother, will you be so good as tell me, when 
 I have any cross or unpleasant looks, so that I may 
 try to look differently. 
 
 M. I am glad to hear you ask me to do that, my 
 son. But have right thoughts and feelings, and 
 there will be but little danger of your face ever hav- 
 ing unpleasant expressions. 
 
 But dinner is ready, and we must stop talking. 
 
 DIALOGUE XI. 
 
 ROBERT. Mother, I have been to see an elephant, 
 this morning. Uncle John took me. 
 
 MOTHER. It was very kind in him to do so. And 
 what do you think of the Elephant, Robert ? Does 
 this picture look like his head ?
 
 ON NATURAL THliOLOGY. 
 
 103 
 
 R. Yes, exactly. He is a very wonderful animal, 
 mother. I thought, at first, he looked very ugly 
 and frightful, he was so large, and heavy, and 
 clumsy. I was a good deal afraid of him. But, 
 pretty soon, when the keeper spoke to him, and told 
 him to do some things, I found, that he was very 
 gentle, and kind, and that he was not so awkward, 
 as I, at first, thought he was. He could not do 
 much, though, if he had not that long trunk. 
 
 M. That long trunk, Robert, is one more, very 
 striking proof of the design, and contrivance, and 
 skill, of our Heavenly Father. 
 
 He has taken care, in a great variety of ways, to 
 provide for the wants, and for the comfort, of beasts, 
 and birds, and fishes, and insects, as well as for ours. 
 And, as the end for which He made them, is very 
 different from that for which he made us, so He has
 
 104 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 given them bodies different from ours ; and bodies 
 exactly suited to the different places and ways, in 
 which they live. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, how different a bird is made 
 from a fish. 
 
 M. True, my son, and how many different kinds 
 of birds there are ; and in many things, how differ- 
 ent they are made from each other, so as to be suited 
 to their different ways of living, and to the country, 
 and to the climate, in which they live. 
 
 Just so it is with beasts, also. There are a great 
 many different kinds, and each kind has something 
 peculiar to itself, to lead us to admire the wisdom, 
 and power, and goodness, of God. 
 
 R. The elephant, mother, has something very pe- 
 culiar, indeed, that long trunk of his. 
 
 M. Yes, and the elephant has great need of his 
 trunk. He would be very helpless without it. 
 
 The neck of four-footed animals is usually long, 
 in proportion to the length of their legs, so that they 
 may be able to stoop down, and reach their food, on 
 the ground, without difficulty. 
 
 R. Mother, I should think, some animals would 
 get very tired, holding their heads down, as long as 
 they do, to get their food. 
 
 M. It would be so, my son ; but God has provi- 
 ded something, to prevent this difficulty. 
 
 There is a tough, strong, tendon-like strap, braced 
 from their head to the middle of the back, which 
 supports the weight of the head ; so that, although
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLUOY. 105 
 
 it is large and heavy, it may be held down long, 
 without any pain, or uneasiness. 
 
 We do not have this strap, because we do not 
 need to bend our head in the same way as beasts do. 
 Our heads are sufficiently supported without it. 
 
 God provides such things, only when they are 
 necessary ; and this shores, how He has design in 
 every thing that He makes. 
 
 The Elephant, as you saw, is a very tall animal, 
 and his head is a good way from the ground ; and 
 yet his neck is very short, so that he cannot, without 
 kneeling, or lying down, bring his mouth to the 
 ground. 
 
 This short neck, so different from that of other 
 animals, whose heads are far from the ground, has 
 one great advantage. It makes it so much the easier 
 for the elephant to support the weight of his very 
 large head, and heavy tusks. 
 
 But somehow or other, the difficulty of having so 
 short a neck, especially in getting food and drink, 
 was to be remedied. And the admirable trunk, 
 which God designed, and made, on purpose for the 
 elephant, removes entirely all this difficulty. Still 
 more, it has many advantages, and very great ones, 
 too, over the long necks of other animals. 
 
 R. I saw the elephant do some things with his 
 
 trunk, mother, which other animals could not do, with 
 
 their long necks, and teeth, and paws, all together. 
 
 But do tell me a little more particularly about the 
 
 trunk. Is it bone, or flesh, mother :
 
 106 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. It is not bone, my son ; it is a hollow, fleshy 
 tube, made of muscles, and nerves, and covered with 
 a skin of a blackish colour, like that of the rest of 
 the body. 
 
 R. There must be a great many muscles in it, I 
 should think, mother, or the elephant could not 
 make so many different kinds of motions with it. 
 
 M. You are right, Robert. Mr. Cuvier, a very 
 learned man, in France, who knew a great deal, 
 and who wrote several curious books, about the dif- 
 ferent kinds of animals, tells us, that he has found, 
 there are more than thirty thousand distinct muscles, in 
 the trunk of an Elephant ! 
 
 R. Oh ! mother, if he is not a good man, I should 
 almost think, he says what is not true. 
 
 M. There is no reason, my son, to doubt the truth 
 of what he tells us. There are some things even 
 more wonderful than this, in some little insects. 
 
 There is a small kind of caterpillar, that has four 
 thousand muscles, in its little body. 
 
 But there is something about the eyes of some in- 
 sects, yet more wonderful. 
 
 A common fly, such as we see about the house, 
 does not move its eyes, as we do. They are fixed 
 fast in its head, and do not turn. But this difficulty 
 is remedied by a very curious contrivance. Each 
 eye is made up of a great many little eyes; some- 
 thing like what you have seen in the stopple of a 
 decanter, so that when you look through it, you 
 seem to see a great many of the same kind of thing.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 107 
 
 These little eyes are hemispheres, or half balls, 
 and they are so placed, that they look different ways; 
 so that the fly can look about, sometimes through 
 one, and sometimes through another, and see nearly, 
 if not quite, as well as we can with our eyes. 
 
 In the two eyes of a common fly, there are eight 
 thousand such smaller eyes. In the two eyes of the 
 dragon-fly, there are twenty-five thousand such 
 smaller eyes. 
 
 Each of these smaller eyes, in the large eye of the 
 fly, and of the dragon-fly, sees perfectly of itself in. 
 one direction, and is made up of still smaller parts, 
 and has nerves to give it the power of sight. 
 
 What must be the fineness of these smaller parts 
 and nerves ! 
 
 Here is a picture of a very small part of the large 
 eye of a dragon-fly, greatly magnified. 
 
 R. How was all this found out, mother ? 
 
 M. By the help of very powerful microscopes,
 
 108 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 which magnify things, and make them look, millions 
 of times larger than they really are. 
 
 With one kind of microscope that I have seen, a 
 little insect was magnified five hundred and seventy 
 millions of times. 
 
 R. Well, I do not doubt any longer, mother, that 
 there are thirty thousand muscles in the trunk of an 
 elephant. 
 
 And how many nerves there must be, to help all 
 these muscles to move, whenever the elephant wishes 
 to have them move. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and it has been found out that 
 the trunk alone has as many nerves, as all the rest 
 of the body has. 
 
 It is the number, the fineness, and the variety of 
 these nerves, that enable the trunk to do all the cu- 
 rious things that it was made to do. 
 
 An elephant that is fourteen feet high, has a trunk 
 about eight feet long, and five feet and a half round, 
 at its thickest part, next the head. 
 
 This trunk, as you saw, can be made shorter or 
 longer, as the animal chooses, and can be moved, 
 with great ease, in every possible direction. 
 
 It has such prodigious strength, that the elephant 
 can quickly knock a man down with it ; and can 
 pull up a tree of moderate size by the roots ; and 
 break off the largest branches ; and raise very heavy 
 weights. 
 
 On the underside, there are some things like little 
 claws, or like the feet of a caterpillar, which take
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 109 
 
 hold of what the elephant wishes to grasp, and 
 help to hold it faster ; and at the end of the trunk, 
 the skin is lengthened about five inches, in the form 
 of a finger. With this finger, he can pick up a pin 
 from the ground, or the smallest piece of money ; 
 he can select herbs and flowers, and take them one 
 by one ; he can untie knots ; he can open and shut 
 gates, by turning the keys, or pushing back the 
 bolts ; and, with this finger, an elephant has been 
 taught to make regular marks, like letters, with an 
 instrument as small as a pen. 
 
 In the middle of the finger, there is a hollow 
 place like a cup, and in the bottom of the cup, are 
 two holes, or nostrils, through which the animal 
 smells and breathes. 
 
 By placing the edge of the end of his trunk on 
 the surface of any heavy thing, and then suddenly- 
 drawing in his breath, so as to get all the air out of 
 the inside of the trunk, the thing he wishes to raise 
 will stick fast to the end of the trunk, and he can 
 lift it up easily. 
 
 R. Mother, I wonder if this is not something like 
 what the boys call a sucker ? 
 M. What is that, Robert ? 
 
 R. Did you never see one, mother ? They take 
 a round piece of pretty soft leather, and fasten a 
 stout piece of twine to the middle of it. Then the 
 leather is soaked in water, and put on the top of a 
 large, heavy stone, and pressed down on it very 
 hard with the foot. The Loy pulls up the string ;
 
 110 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 the leather rises up a little in the middle, but all 
 round the edges it sticks very tight to the stone ; 
 and the stone is lifted up, ever so high, without 
 falling off from the leather. 
 
 But if the edge of the leather is pulled up, ever 
 so little, it will come off from the stone, and the 
 string will not raise the stone. 
 
 Mother, what is the reason of this ? I do not 
 understand it at all. 
 
 M. I do not know that I can explain it exactly 
 to you, but I will try. 
 
 The air that we breathe, and which is all around us, 
 has weight. It is, all the while, pressing, with 
 equal weight, in all directions. When you are 
 standing, the air presses against the fore part of 
 your body, and against the sides, and against your 
 back, with equal weight. 
 
 On every square inch, it presses with a weight 
 equal to fifteen pounds. 
 
 On the whole body of a man, it presses with a 
 weight, equal to twenty, or thirty, thousand pounds. 
 
 If the air pressed upon you, only on the top of 
 your head, it would crush you down to the ground, 
 instantly. If it pressed, only on the forepart of 
 your body it would throw you down backwards, 
 with great force. 
 
 It is because the air presses upon you equally, 
 in all directions, and that it is inside of your body, 
 too, that you can stand up, and walk about with- 
 out difficulty.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. Ill 
 
 If you put a quill, with the end cut square off, 
 to the end of your tongue, and draw the air out of 
 the quill, quickly, it will stick very tight to your 
 tongue. 
 
 The reason of this is, that there is no air, inside 
 of the quill, to press against the air, on the outside ; 
 and so the air, all pressing, with great weight, one 
 way, on your tongue, and on the outside of the 
 quill, presses them together, and makes the quill 
 stick to the tongue, until the air is, in some way, 
 brought into the inside of the quill again. 
 
 In the same way, the leather, about which you 
 told me, is pressed down so hard, against the stone, 
 and lies so close to it, that the air, between the lea- 
 ther and the stone, is forced away, so that there is 
 no air there. The leather, when you draw it up 
 with the string, rises a little in the middle, and 
 leaves a hollow place there, in which there is no 
 air. The air, then, on the outside of the leather, 
 and all round, and underneath the stone, presses 
 with great weight ; and presses the leather and 
 stone very tight together, because there is no air 
 between them, to press against the air on the outside. 
 
 When you lift up the edge of the leather, as you 
 told me, and let the air in, it rushes, with great 
 weight, between the leather and the stone, and 
 they separate from each other. 
 
 R. I think, mother, I understand pretty well 
 now, how the elephant, by putting the edge of his 
 trunk on a heavy thing, and then drawing all the
 
 112 THE YOUTHS BOOK 
 
 air out of it, is able to lift it up, without any diffi- 
 culty. The air which is under, and all round, the 
 heavy thing, and the trunk, presses them tight to- 
 gether, and makes the heavy thing stick to the 
 trunk. 
 
 M. You are right, my son, and when the ele- 
 phant fills his trunk with air again, this air presses, 
 from the inside of the trunk, against the heavy thing, 
 just as hard, as the air on the outside does, so that 
 there is no force to keep it up, any longer, and it 
 instantly falls down. 
 
 With this trunk, the animal takes all his food 
 from the ground, and puts it into his mouth, just as 
 we do ours with our hand. 
 
 When he drinks, too, he first draws up the water 
 into his trunk, and then empties it into his mouth. 
 
 R. How many things, mother, he can do with 
 his trunk ! 
 
 M. Yes, my son, on some accounts, it is even 
 more curious and wonderful than your arm and 
 hand, which I have explained to you. 
 
 The trunk of an elephant is to him, what their 
 neck is, to other animals. 
 
 It is a nose, with which he smells and breathes. 
 
 It is an arm and hand, with a very curious 
 finger, with which he feels, and does a great many 
 things, easily and quickly. 
 
 It has been said, that he carries his nose in his 
 hand ; and it might have been said, also, that he 
 breathes with his hand. How strange it would
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 113 
 
 seem to you and me, if we should smell, and breathe, 
 and feel, and take things, with one of our fingers. 
 
 R. Mother, if I go to see the elephant again, I 
 will ask the keeper to let me examine the finger at 
 the end of the trunk, very particularly. 
 
 M. I dare say, he will be willing to let you do it. 
 
 But I cannot tell you any thing more about the 
 elephant, now. 
 
 His trunk, as you have seen, is a most curious 
 instrument, made, in part, to help the animal to get 
 his food ; because his neck is so short ; and, be- 
 sides this, to enable him to smell and breathe, and 
 do a great many things which are necessary for his 
 comfort. Do you not think, this is another very 
 striking proof of the design, contrivance, skill, and 
 goodness, of God ? 
 
 R. I do, indeed, mother. 
 
 M. Well, my son ; men, beasts, birds, fishes, 
 insects, trees, flowers, and vegetables, have hun- 
 dreds, and thousands, of other things quite as 
 wonderful, as any thing that I have yet explained 
 to you. We cannot look around us, without see- 
 ing proofs every where, that there is a God, and 
 that He is a Being of infinite power, wisdom, and 
 goodness. 
 
 We may well say, as David did, in the Psalms 
 which he wrote : 
 
 " O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wis- 
 dom hast thou made them all : the earth is full of 
 thy riches." 
 
 L 2
 
 114 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 "The Lord is good to all; and his tender mer- 
 cies are over all his works." 
 
 DIALOGUE XII. 
 
 MOTHER. I explained to you, yesterday, my son, 
 about the trunk of an elephant, with which he can 
 do a great many things ; and how necessary it is 
 for him, that he may get his food and drink. 
 
 It is wonderful, to see the many different ways 
 in which beasts, birds, fishes, and insects get their 
 food; and also how God has formed them, that 
 they may do this ; and particularly how their mouths 
 are made, to take their food, after they have found it. 
 
 Our mouths are flat. They are made, not to 
 pick up, or take hold of, our food. Our hands do 
 this, and put the food into the mouth. 
 
 But where animals have no hands, or no trunk, 
 their mouths have to pick up, and take hold, of 
 their food. And as their food is of a great many 
 different kinds, and found in a great many different 
 places, and to be taken, a great many different ways ; 
 their mouths had to be made of a great many different 
 shapes and sizes, and so as to have a great many 
 different motions, 
 
 Only think, how much design, contrivance, and 
 skill, was necessary to do all this, so as to provide 
 for the comfort, and nourishment, and life, of so 
 many millions of living beings.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 115 
 
 Each of them has a mouth, and yet, in how many 
 different ways their mouths are made ; and the 
 mouth of one kind, would be exceedingly incon- 
 venient, and, often, entirely useless, if it had been 
 made for a different kind. 
 
 You have seen different kinds of locks ; some for 
 front-doors ; some for parlour-doors ; some for cellar- 
 doors ; some for bureaus ; and some for trunks. 
 
 R. Yes, mother ; and some, very curious, little 
 padlocks. You know uncle John has one for his 
 travelling bag. 
 
 M. Well, Robert, these different kinds of locks 
 are all alike in some things, and they were all made, 
 with one design, to fasten something up tight ; 
 so that it could not be opened without the key. 
 
 But when you see them, unlike in other things, 
 you know, at once, that they were made, with an- 
 other design, also, to have them suited to things 
 of different sizes and uses, so as to fasten them tight. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and I am sure that a door- 
 lock never was made to be put on to a trunk. 
 
 M. When we see, then, so many different kinds 
 of mouths, each suited to a particular kind of ani- 
 mal, that has to get its food, in its own way, we 
 are sure that God had a particular design in making 
 them so ; and this is one, other, striking proof of 
 his wisdom and goodness. 
 
 R. Mother, do tell me about some of the curious 
 kinds of mouths that animals have. 
 
 M. Did you ever see a wood-pecker ?
 
 116 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. Oh ! yes, I have wondered what he keeps 
 knocking against the tree for, so long, and so hard, 
 with his bill. I should think, he would get very 
 tired, sometimes. 
 
 M. He is hungry, and is working for his food. ' 
 You would be glad to work, too, Robert, for your 
 food, if you could not get it, in any other way. 
 And you should be willing to work for it, which, 
 perhaps, you may yet have to do. 
 
 R. What is the wood-pecker's food, mother? 
 
 M. It is, principally, worms and insects, which 
 he finds in the trunks of old, decayed trees. 
 
 R. But why does he make so much noise in 
 finding them. 
 
 M. The worms and insects are deep in the 
 wood, where other kinds of birds never could reach 
 them. 
 
 Here is a drawing of the bill and tongue of the 
 wood-pecker, which are made on purpose to enable 
 him to get his food. 
 
 His bill is long, straight, hard, and sharp ; and 
 like a wedge, at the tip of it. His tongue is round,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 117 
 
 something like a worm ; very long, so that it can 
 come out three or four inches beyond the bill ; and 
 has at the end of it, a stiff, sharp, bony thorn. This 
 bony end of the tongue has little teeth, as it were, 
 on each side of it, standing backward, like the barb 
 of a fish-hook. 
 
 With his bill he chisels out a hole in the wood ; 
 and this is what he was doing, when you saw him 
 knocking (as you said,) and heard a great noise 
 that he made. He keeps chiseling, till he comes 
 to where the worms or insects are ; and then, he 
 suddenly darts out his long tongue upon them ; 
 seizes them with the sharp, hooked end of it ; and 
 draws them into his mouth. 
 
 The wood-pecker chisels a hole, for its nest, in 
 which to lay its eggs ; and these holes, often, are 
 very deep, so that the eggs may be safe. The 
 eggs are usually laid on the rotten wood ; but, some- 
 times, moss or wool is put into the nest, for the 
 eggs to lie on. 
 
 You see what contrivance and skill are shown in 
 the bill and tongue of this curious bird. You know 
 the design with which they were made, to enable 
 the wood-pecker to get food, and to make a nest ; 
 and you are just as sure that God made them, and 
 made them for this purpose, as that a chisel was 
 made by some one, and that it was made to cut 
 with, into wood. A man has a mallet, to drive the 
 chisel with ; but the wood-pecker's head is his mallet, 
 and his skull is unusually thick, that his head may
 
 118 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 bear the jarring which his hard knocks make. 
 
 I read, lately, in one of the newspapers, an ac- 
 count of a wood- pecker, somewhere in Massachu- 
 setts, which I think will interest you. 
 
 He made a deep hole, just as exactly and neatly 
 as if it had been made with a mallet and chisel, to 
 the very centre of the branch of a young, tough, 
 white oak tree. The branch was from three to 
 five inches round. He did this to find a worm, 
 called a borer. The worm had made a hole in the 
 branch, about as large round as a goose-quill, four 
 or five inches below the hole chiseled out by the 
 wood-pecker. The worm was going upward, in- 
 side of the branch, when the wood-pecker made his 
 hole, just in the right place, to catch the worm with 
 his barbed tongue, and devour him. 
 
 These worms injure the trees ; and the wood-- 
 pecker, and other birds, which devour worms and 
 insects, do a great deal of good. It is quite a pity, 
 that they should be killed. 
 
 R. Have any other birds, mother, as curious 
 bills, as that of the wood-pecker ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son; there is a bird called the 
 cross-bill, that has this name on account of its bill, 
 the two parts of which are so bent, that they cross 
 one another near the point, sometimes on one side, 
 and sometimes on the other, as you see in this 
 drawing. The bill is sharp, and single-edged, near 
 the point. They live in cold and mountainous 
 countries, in the forests of fir and pine trees.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 119 
 
 The seeds of the trees are in something of the 
 shape of a cone, or a loaf of white sugar, only a 
 good deal smaller, and these cones are full of some- 
 thing like scales. The cross-bill divides these scales 
 very dexterously with its bill, and picks out the 
 seed ; which it can do, if they are ever so small, by 
 bringing the two pointed ends of its bill exactly 
 together. 
 
 Sometimes they have been seen in orchards of 
 fruit trees, and they will easily divide an apple, so 
 as to get the seeds. 
 
 R. Mother, do the bills of birds grow dull by 
 using them ? 
 
 M. No, my son, unless they live to be very old. 
 I have read of a goldfinch which wa? twenty-three
 
 120 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 years old. The people who kept it were obliged, 
 once a week, to scrape its nails and bill, that it 
 might eat, drink, and sit on its bar. It could not 
 fly, and all its feathers had become white. 
 
 R. Mother, ^ducks and geese have very different 
 kinds of bills from those that you have been ex- 
 plaining to me. 
 
 M. Yes, they have long, broad bills, somewhat 
 like a spoon, which enables them to get their food, 
 under the water, and in the ground, and in muddy 
 places. The inside of the bill, near the edges, 
 has rows of short and strong pointed prickles, as 
 you see in the drawing. But they are not teeth, 
 to chew with. They are made, to help the bird to 
 find its food. For when the duck plunges its bill 
 down into the water, or mud, it draws them up, 
 and whatever may be in them, through the rows of 
 prickles on the inside of the bill, catching what is good 
 and pleasant for food, and throwing away all the rest. 
 
 And, that the duck may thus select its food the 
 better, the bill is covered with skin, and there are 
 large nerves to give it feeling, which run down 
 quite to the end of it.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 121 
 
 How necessary such a kind of bill is for a bird 
 that seeks its food as the duck does, and gropes 
 for it out of sight. As it does not always see its 
 food, it can find it, and tell when it is good and 
 pleasant, by feeling. 
 
 Here again, how striking is the design, contri- 
 vance, and skill which are shown us, in the bill of 
 the duck, that is made so differently from that of 
 the wood-pecker, and of the cross-bill, because it 
 has to get its food, in a way so different from that 
 in which they get theirs. 
 
 There is another bird, called the oyster-catcher, 
 that gets its food in a still different way, and has a 
 bill made so as to be exactly suited to its wants. 
 
 Here is a drawing of one.
 
 122 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 It lives principally on oysters, and other kinds of 
 shell-fish ; the shells of which it opens. That it 
 may be able to do this, it has a long, stout bill, 
 shaped like a wedge ; and narrow next to the head, 
 that it may work the more easily in the sand. 
 
 These birds not only open the shell-fish with 
 their bill ; but if they find one fastened tight to a 
 rock, they will knock it off, as skilfully with their 
 bill, as a man would do, with a stone. 
 
 R. Mother, is there any thing, like this, as cu- 
 rious about fishes, as there is about birds ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son, quite so. Indeed I have read 
 of one fish, that has a way of getting its food, more 
 strange than any thing which I have told you about 
 the birds. 
 
 What should you think of a fish shooting flies, as 
 a man does birds, that it may get them to eat ? 
 
 R. Is that true, mother ? 
 
 M. Yes, my son. There is a fish, that lives in 
 the Indian seas, called a chretodon, which has a 
 snout, like a tube. 
 
 R. What is it like, mother, that I have seen ? 
 
 M. If you cut a quill off square, at both ends, 
 and take the pith out, it will be a small tube. You 
 know you can blow water through it, some dis- 
 tance, and with some force. 
 
 The fish has a snout, something like this, through 
 which it can shoot a drop of water, with so sure an 
 aim, and with so much force, that it can hit an 
 insect, from four to six feet off, and thus kill it, or
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 123 
 
 stun it, so that it falls down on the water, and the 
 fish gets it for food. 
 
 It shoots the insect, too, while it it flying ; seldom 
 missing its aim; and this is what very few, even of 
 the most skilful gunners can do. 
 
 These fish have a very beautiful shape, and a 
 great variety of brilliant colours. They are some- 
 times caught, and kept in a large vessel of water 
 and amuse the people very much, by their great 
 dexterity, in shooting. For if a fly is put on the 
 edge of the vessel, the fish immediately perceives it, 
 and shoots at it so exactly, as very seldom, indeed, 
 to miss it. 
 
 Is all this chance ? Strange, indeed, that this fish 
 was made so, and to be able to do so, by chance ! 
 
 Does a gun chance to be made ; and a man 
 chance to find it, and to know what it was made 
 for ; and, when he feels hungry, because he has no 
 other food, chance to go into the woods, and chance 
 to keep looking after a bird, to shoot it ; and when 
 he sees one, chance to shoot it, and carry it home 
 to eat. 
 
 Was there no design, contrivance, and skill, in 
 the making of the gun ; and none in the man's 
 using it ? Who made the tube-like snout of the 
 chcetodon, and who taught this fish how to use it ? 
 
 R. Mother, he must be a fool, who says there is 
 no God. 
 
 Yes, my son, " The fool hath said, in his heart, there 
 is no God."
 
 124 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 It is because they are so wicked, that some men 
 wish to believe, there is no God ; and, perhaps in a 
 few instances, have thought that they did believe so. 
 
 But they quite forget one thing. If it has hap- 
 pened, by chance, that there are men, with wonder- 
 ful souls and bodies ; and that they have so much 
 design, and skill, and contrivance, as to make the 
 thousands of curious and useful things which we 
 daily see ; it may have happened, that there is a 
 God. 
 
 And if it has happened, that there is a God ; 
 why may He not have vastly more design, and skill, 
 and contrivance than men have ? 
 
 How much more a man has, than a dog. It has 
 happened so, at any rate, for we see it, and know it. 
 It has happened, too, that some men have a great 
 deal more wisdom and power than others. 
 
 It has happened, that men make curious and 
 wonderful things. May it not have happened, that 
 God made the millions of curious and wonderful 
 things that we see, which we know, men have not 
 made, and which, we also know, it is impossible for 
 them to make ? 
 
 And if so, how vast the wisdom and power of 
 God must be ! They are so vast, that we cannot 
 think how vast they are. 
 
 It may have happened, then, that there is a God, 
 of infinite wisdom and power. 
 
 The atheist is often afraid, to do certain, wrong 
 things ; because he knows it may happen, that his
 
 OX NATURAL, THEOLOGY. 125 
 
 fellow-men will despise him, and avoid him, and 
 have nothing to do with him, or, if the things are 
 bad enough, they will even put him in prison, or 
 hang him. 
 
 All this has often happened to bad men, notwith- 
 standing they were able to hide the wrong things 
 that they did, from the knowledge of every body, 
 for a long time. They may have done this, for 
 years, but it has often, very often, happened, that 
 it was found out, at last. They did not expect, 
 that it would be so. They felt quite safe. But, at 
 length, they were found out, to their great surprise 
 and shame, and were sadly disgraced and punished. 
 May it not happen, that for his sins, even the most 
 secret ones, the atheist will be punished in a future 
 world ? Cannot God find his sins out, if his fellow- 
 men can find them out ? 
 
 It happens, as the atheist says, by chance, that he 
 often suffers very severe punishment in this world, 
 for doing wrong ; may it not happen, that he will 
 suffer, still more severely, in the future world ? 
 Does chance do so many, wonderful, and right, and 
 good things in this world, and none in the next ? 
 
 The atheist says, all things have happened, and 
 continue to happen, by chance. 
 
 What if it be so ? suppose it is so ; still he is a 
 very unwise and daring man. 
 
 For why is it, as you have seen, any more impro- 
 bable, that it should happen, that there is an infi- 
 nitely wise and powerful God, who will punish sin 
 M 2
 
 126 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 in the future world, than that there are men, who 
 have but little wisdom and power, but who yet have 
 prudence and strength enough, to punish each 
 other, when they do wrong, in this world ? 
 
 What a risk, then, the atheist runs ! The Bible 
 tells us, that " it is a fearful thing to fall into the 
 hands of the living God!" 
 
 How foolish, as well as wicked, are those who 
 doubt that there is a God ; or who deny his right 
 to govern them ; or who do not love Him, and do 
 all that He has commanded us to do ! 
 
 Think of these truths, my son, and may God en- 
 able you to understand them, to believe them, and 
 to feel them. 
 
 DIALOGUE XIII. 
 
 MOTHER. I have told you, Robert, about a fish 
 that shoots water at insects, that are flying above 
 it, and thus gets them for food. Now I am going 
 to tell you about a fish that has a very curious way 
 of defending itself against the attacks of larger 
 fishes, which come to devour it, and of preventing 
 resistance in smaller ones, that it wishes to seize 
 for food. 
 
 ROBERT. I suppose it has a very large mouth, 
 and sharp teeth, mother. 
 
 M. No, my son, if you was to look at it, you 
 would not see any thing about it, that looked, as if
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 127 
 
 the fish had much power to do any thing, only to 
 swim. 
 
 It looks like an eel ; indeed, it is called the elec- 
 trical eel. Look at this drawing of it. It is very 
 common in South America. It is from three to 
 five feet long, and about a foot round in the thick- 
 est part. Some have been found more than twenty 
 feet long, which have such great power, that if a 
 man only touches them, they can kill him instantly, 
 
 R. Mother, if I did not know, that you never 
 tell me any thing that is not true, I could not 
 believe it. 
 
 M. You see, my son, the advantage of always 
 speaking the truth. If I had, sometimes, deceived 
 you, you would not know whether to believe me, 
 now, or not. 
 
 R. Mother, do explain to me about this won- 
 derful fish. 
 
 M. I will try to, so far as I can ; but there are 
 some things about it, which I do not understand 
 myself, and many things, too, which you cannot un- 
 derstand, till you grow older, and have studied a 
 good many books. But I will explain to you 
 enough to show you, in this curious fish, one more
 
 128 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 striking proof of the design, contrivance, and skill, 
 of God. 
 
 You have seen the lightning ? 
 R. Oh ! yes, mother, do you not remember the 
 terrible thunder-storm last summer, when you and 
 I were sitting in the parlour, and, all at once, we 
 saw the lightning strike a tall tree, in the field ? 
 What a loud clap of thunder there was, at the same 
 time. 
 
 M. I remember it very well, my son, and how 
 we went, the next day, to look at the tree, and saw 
 it split quite through, in the middle, and a good deal 
 burned. 
 
 But do you remember, Robert, how strangely 
 we both felt, as if something had struck us, and 
 given us a jar all over ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother ; and you told me, you thought 
 the lightning must have struck the lightning-rod on 
 our house, too, and run down into the ground, 
 without doing the house any harm. 
 
 M. In a thunder-storm, my son, the clouds are 
 filled with something which is called electricity. It 
 is not known, what it is ; what it does, is all that 
 is known. 
 
 One cloud, sometimes, has more electricity in it 
 than another cloud has. If these two clouds come 
 near each other, the electricity will go from the 
 cloud which has the most, to that which has the 
 least. This it does very suddenly ; and in passing, 
 thus, from one cloud to the other, that bright some-
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 129 
 
 thing, like fire, is seen, which we call lightning ; 
 and soon the noise is heard, which we call thunder. 
 
 The tree that we saw struck, had less electricity 
 in it, than the cloud which passed over it had. The 
 electricity went suddenly from the cloud to the 
 tree. It appeared in the bright flash of lightning 
 that we saw, and we say, the lightning struck the 
 tree. 
 
 About eighty years ago, Dr. Franklin, an Ame- 
 rican, made a kite of silk, and raised it high up 
 in the air, during a thunder-storm. 
 
 After some time, the electricity passed from the 
 clouds to the kite, and came down the string, at 
 the end of which was a key. Dr. Franklin put his 
 knuckles to the key, and suddenly, bright sparks 
 came from it, to his knuckles. 
 
 R. Mother, that was lightning ; did it not kill him ? 
 
 M. No, my son, the quantity was too small, to 
 do him any harm. But, sometimes, there is so much 
 electricity in a flash of lightning, that when it 
 strikes persons, it kills them instantly. 
 
 There is a machine, called an electrical machine, 
 a part of which is a large, round, hollow cylinder of 
 glass, that is made to turn round with a handle. 
 
 When this is turned round, somehow or other, 
 electricity is produced, and comes from the glass, to a 
 long tube of brass, with a brass ball on the end of it. 
 
 If any one puts his knuckle to this brass ball, 
 bright sparks of fire will come from it, just as they 
 did from the key on the string of Dr. Franklin's kite.
 
 130 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. And does this machine produce lightning, 
 mother ? 
 
 M. Yes, rny son, it may be said to do so ; for it 
 makes the same electricity appear, in bright sparks. 
 which the clouds make to appear, in lightning, du- 
 ring a thunder-storm. 
 
 R. Does it not hurt a person, mother, to have 
 the sparks from the brass ball, strike his knuckle ? 
 
 M. No, my son, very little, if any. But there 
 is a way of getting a great deal of electricity, so as 
 to hurt a person very much, or even to kill him. 
 
 A curious vial is made, with a brass rod going 
 into it, and a brass ball at the end of the rod. While 
 the glass cylinder is turned, and the electricity is 
 passing from it, to the long brass tube ; if the ball 
 of the vial is held near to the ball of the tube 
 sparks of electricity will go from the ball of the tube, 
 to the ball of the vial . These sparks will keep going, 
 and the electricity will go down the wire into the 
 vial, and the inside of the vial will have a good deal 
 of electricity in it. 
 
 Then the cylinder is no longer turned, and the 
 vial is set on a table. 
 
 If any body touches the bottom of the vial, with 
 one hand, and, then, brings the other hand very 
 near to the brass ball of the vial, he will instantly 
 feel a hard shock in his wrists, elbows, and breast, 
 as if somebody had struck him. The electricity 
 goes, as quick as lightning, from the brass ball, 
 through the person who touches it.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 131 
 
 If one hundred, or more, persons should take hold 
 of each others' hands, and stand round in a ring ; 
 and the person, at one end, should touch the bottom 
 of the vial, with his hand, and the person, at the 
 other end of the ring, touch the brass ball of the 
 vial, with his hand, all the persons would instantly 
 feel the shock, at the same time. For the electri- 
 city will go through them all, from the brass ball, 
 as quick as lightning. 
 
 Many such vials are sometimes made, and placed 
 near each other, so that they can all be filled with 
 electricity. They are all connected with each other, 
 so that the electricity can be taken from them all, at 
 the same time. There is a way of doing this, with- 
 out having it pass through any body, and when it is 
 done, there is a prodigious flash, like lightning, and 
 a noise like that of a cannon, when it is fired. 
 These vials, thus put together, are called, an electri- 
 cal battery ; and when the electricity is taken from 
 them all, at once, it is called, discharging the battery. 
 
 Just as when a man loads a gun, he is said to 
 charge it, and, when he fires it off, to discharge it. 
 
 R. If the electrical battery should be discharged 
 through a person, it would kill him would it not, 
 mother ? 
 
 M. It might easily be made to do so, my son, if 
 there were vials enough, and if they were filled 
 with electricity. 
 
 R. I think, I know, mother, why the fish that you 
 were going to tell me about, is called, an electrical eel.
 
 132 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. Well, why is it called so, Robert ? 
 
 II. Electricity comes from it, mother, when you 
 touch it, just as it does from the electrical battery. 
 
 M. You are right, my son, it does so. 
 
 Some of these fish have been caught, and kept in 
 vessels, and a great many experiments tried with 
 them. It has been found, that they can give a shock 
 to any person, or animal, that touches, or comes 
 near them ; that they can do this, or not, just as 
 they choose ; that they can give a small shock, or a 
 hard one ; and that the shock is just like that which 
 comes from an electrical vial. 
 
 Does any spark come from the eel, mother ? 
 
 M. A spark was seen to come from one, when it 
 was out of the water, and the electricity was dis- 
 charged from it ; but when the fish is under water, 
 no spark can be seen. 
 
 These electrical eels have been examined, to see 
 how they are made inside. It is found, that more 
 than one third of the whole fish, is a curious electri- 
 cal battery ; as truly so, as the electrical vials are, 
 though it is made very differently from them. 
 
 I cannot, now, describe it to you. It would take 
 too long a time, and I could not do it without a 
 drawing for you to look at, to see the different parts. 
 
 There are a great many of these parts, much 
 more curiously made, and put together, than the 
 parts of an electrical machine are ; and, as I told 
 you, one of the largest kind of these electrical eels, 
 can charge his battery so full, and discharge it, with
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 133 
 
 so much force, as to kill a man, as quickly as a pow- 
 erful stroke of lightning would. 
 
 Nobody knows, how the fish makes the electricity, 
 inside of him, and charges his battery with it; or 
 how he discharges his battery, so as to give a shock 
 just when he chooses, and as light, or as heavy, a 
 one as he chooses. 
 
 I will take you, soon, to see an electrical machine, 
 and some of the wonderful effects of electricity. 
 
 R. But I do not wish to take a shock, mother. 
 
 M. A slight one would not hurt you. You may 
 do as you choose, however. 
 
 You will see in the electrical machine, and the 
 vial, and the battery, and some other things to try 
 experiments with, a great deal of design, contrivance, 
 and skill. 
 
 R. I am sure I shall, mother ; and I shall think, 
 too, all the while, that the electricity made by the 
 machine is the same, as that in the clouds, and 
 that the sparks are like the lightning. I shall be a 
 little afraid of it. 
 
 M. It has taken many wise men, a great many 
 years, to find out what we know about electricity ; 
 and to make electrical machines ; and to know how 
 to charge the vials and batteries, and to use them 
 without danger. 
 
 And did chance make the electrical eel ; with 
 its batter} 7 inside of it, ready to be used, at all times, 
 as it chooses, to defend itself against its enemies, or 
 to aid it, in seizing other fish for food ?
 
 134 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 And did the fish find out, by chance, too, that it 
 can make electricity, and charge its battery, and use 
 it; and did chance teach it, what to use it for? 
 
 There are only five different kinds of fishes, that 
 are known to have this power of making and using 
 electricity. 
 
 It is a wonderful power for them to have. They 
 can make and use that something, which is often so 
 terrible in the dark storm that passes over our heads. 
 How we, sometimes, start at the flash of lightning, 
 and shrink back as the thunder roars around us. It 
 is then, that God seems to show us his great power. 
 
 " He bows the heavens, and comes down. 
 
 Darkness is under his feet. 
 
 He flies upon the wings of the wind. 
 
 Dark waters, and thick clouds, cover Him round 
 about. 
 
 God thunders in the heavens. 
 
 The Highest gives his voice. " 
 
 At such times, the atheist has been known to 
 shudder, and tremble, at the power of God, and to 
 cry, and pray, for deliverance from danger. 
 
 Let us admire the same power of God, which can 
 so curiously confine, within the body of a small fish, 
 that electricity, which gives the thunder-storm its 
 terror. Coming from the clouds, it splits the tallest 
 trees, and destroys animals, and men, and houses. 
 In the body of the fish, and used for his safety and 
 benefit, it can do but little harm. 
 
 But only think, if all fishes, and birds, and beasts,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 135 
 
 and men, had this same power ; or if, even, all an- 
 gry men had it ! 
 
 R. I do not think, mother, that any of us would 
 live a great while. 
 
 M. You see, then, my son, in the fish which I 
 have been explaining to you, and in the few others 
 of the same kind, one more striking proof of the 
 power, the wisdom, and the goodness, of God. 
 
 R. Yes, mother ; and I am sure I shall always 
 remember it, it is so wonderful, and so different 
 from any thing that I have ever heard before. 
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 
 
 ROBERT. Mother, I was stung by a bee, this 
 morning ; see how my finger is swelled. 
 
 MOTHER. Not a great deal, Robert. I am glad, 
 it is no worse. 
 
 R. I think, I went rather too near the hive. I 
 shall not go so near again. 
 
 M. It is best to be careful, my son ; for, some- 
 times, the sting of a bee is very painful, indeed, and 
 it takes a good while to heal the wound. 
 
 R. How can such a little insect make so bad a 
 wound, mother ? 
 
 M. It has a part of its body made for this very 
 purpose. 
 
 The sting is inside of a horny sheath, or scabbard. 
 This sheath ends in a sharp point, which is slit, so
 
 136 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 as to open and let the sting come out, when the 
 wound is made. The sting is double, made of two 
 small darts, very sharp, and barbed like a fish-hook. 
 Each dart has many of these little barbs. One dart 
 is somewhat longer than the other. 
 
 Here is a drawing of the sting of a bee, very 
 greatly magnified. 
 
 When a bee stings any body, it first pushes the 
 pointed, horny sheath through the skin, into the 
 flesh. Then it thrusts out the longest dart of its 
 sting, through the sheath, into the flesh, where it 
 holds fast with its barbed point. The other dart 
 follows, and so the two darts, one after the other, 
 keep piercing into the flesh, till the whole sting is 
 buried in it.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 137 
 
 R. I do not wonder, mother, that the sting of a 
 bee is so painful, and the wound which it makes, so 
 bad. 
 
 M. But it would not be so, Robert, if the little 
 insect did not do something more than I have told 
 you. 
 
 R. What is that, mother ? 
 
 M. While the sting is in the flesh, it pours some 
 poison, through the sheath into the wound ; and it 
 is this which makes the painful swelling. If this 
 was not done, the sting of a bee would be no worse 
 than a pretty deep prick of a pin, or when you cut 
 yourself, a very little, with the sharp point of a pen- 
 knife. 
 
 R. Where does the poison come from, mother ? 
 
 M. There is a little bag, at the root of the sting, 
 which holds it ; and there are several curious mus- 
 cles, with which the bee can move its sting different 
 ways, and thrust it into the flesh, and make the 
 poison flow from the bag, through the sheath, into 
 the wound. 
 
 Look, again, at the drawing of the sting, and I 
 will explain to you the different parts. 
 
 (i) is the tube in which the poison is made, and 
 which conveys it into the bag (b), from which it is 
 carried, through another tube, into the sting's 
 sheath (11). 
 
 (e e) is the outward sheath, which shuts over the 
 inward sheath (1 1). 
 
 (m m m m) are four cartilages, and (o o o o) four, 
 
 N2
 
 138 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 very small muscles, by the help of which, the bee 
 can move the sting, different ways. 
 
 (p p) are two muscles, to draw the sting into the 
 sheath. 
 
 (d) is the sting, divided into two parts and barbed 
 at the sides. 
 
 See, how this little insect is provided with a 
 weapon, sufficient to defend itself against very 
 large, and powerful enemies. It knows very well, 
 too, how to use it ; and a swarm of bees is as safe 
 against the attacks of animals, as they could wish 
 to be. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, I remember, how the bear that 
 tried to get the honey in a bee-hive, was stung by 
 them. I read about it in my book of fables. 
 
 M. The instruments, also, with which the bee and 
 other insects get their food, are very curious, and 
 show us the design, contrivance, and skill of that 
 wise and good Being who made the little bees, and 
 all the other insects; and who constantly takes 
 care of them, as well as of man, and of the larger 
 animals. 
 
 R. Do tell me about them, mother. 
 
 M. I will ; but I must first tell you about a few 
 other things, so that you may understand me the 
 better. 
 
 Some persons have taken great pains to find out 
 the different kinds of insects; and how they are 
 made, and how they live, and what they do. They 
 have made large collections of them ; and where
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 139 
 
 such a collection is made, and the insects are all 
 put in order, in glass cases, it is called a cabinet of 
 insects. 
 
 In some of these cabinets, there are forty thou- 
 sand different kinds of insects ; but, probably, there 
 are a great many more in the world, which have 
 not yet been discovered. 
 
 The manner in which their mouths, and their instru- 
 ments for getting food, are made, is more curious 
 than that of beasts, birds, or fishes. 
 
 Some insects have jaws ; and, usually, two pairs 
 of jaws, an upper and a lower pair. They do not 
 move against each other, up and down, as ours do, 
 but sideways. The upper pair, in most cases, seize 
 the food, and chew it. The under pair, which are 
 often hooked, hold the food, and tear it, and after- 
 wards, the upper pair make it very fine, before it 
 is swallowed. 
 
 The jaws of some are sharp, and are set with 
 little thorns, for tearing flesh ; others are hooked, 
 for seizing worms or insects, and, at the same time, 
 hollow, for the sucking up their juices; some cut 
 leaves, like scissors ; others are strong enough to 
 grind the hardest wood between them. 
 
 To a great many insects, jaws would have been 
 useless. All the food which they take, is liquid. 
 Moths and butterflies are of this kind, They eat 
 nothing but honey, which is often quite deep, at the 
 bottom of flowers. They need some way, then, of 
 being able to reach it ; just as we need some way of
 
 140 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 getting water from the bottom of a well, before we 
 can drink it. 
 
 God has furnished them with just what they need. 
 
 They have a slender tongue, hollow inside, like 
 a tube, and sometimes three inches long, which, 
 when they do not use it, they coil up in a small 
 space, that it may not be in the way, or get in- 
 jured. 
 
 When they use it, they unroll it instantly, and 
 darting it into the bottom of a flower, draw up the 
 sweet juice or honey, on which they feed. 
 
 This tongue is a hard kind of flesh, made up of 
 a great many little rings, which lie, one above the 
 other, and are moved by an equal number of 
 muscles. 
 
 Though it looks very simple, and as if it were 
 only one tube, it is, in fact, made up of three, 
 smaller, distinct tubes ; the two outside ones, to 
 draw in the air, and the middle one, to suck up the 
 honey. This middle tube is nearly square, and 
 formed by the two outside ones coming close to- 
 gether, with a channel, or trough, cut in each. 
 
 These two outside tubes are held fast together 
 by a great many, little hooks on each, that hook 
 into each other ; somewhat as you can hook the 
 fingers on one hand, on to the fingers of the other, 
 and hold the hands very tight together. 
 
 The insect can unhook these outside tubes, or 
 hook them together again, whenever it pleases. 
 
 When they are hooked together, the inside tube
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 141 
 
 is air-tight ; that is, no air can possibly pass 
 through its sides. When the insect puts this tube 
 down into the honey, and sucks up the air that is 
 inside of the tube, the air at the bottom of the 
 flower, presses the honey up into the tube, and up 
 into the mouth of the insect. 
 
 R. Oh ! mother, this is like what the boys, 
 sometimes, do, when they suck up new cider, out 
 of the tub, with a straw. 
 
 M. It is, my son, and a common pump does 
 something like it, too. The honey is pressed up, 
 by the air, into the tube of the insect, because 
 there is no air inside of the tube to press the honey 
 down ; the insect having emptied the inside of the 
 tube of all the air. 
 
 For the same reason the cider rises in the straw, 
 and the water in the pump. You recollect, I ex- 
 plained to you about this pressure of the air, when 
 you told me about the sucker which the boys make, 
 and I showed you, that it was like the trunk of the 
 elephant, lifting a heavy weight. 
 
 R. I remember it, mother, but I did not think, 
 then, that little insects, like a moth, and a butterfly, 
 have a trunk, too. 
 
 M. And quite as curious a one, you see, Robert, 
 as that of the great elephant. 
 
 It was a long, long while, before men found out, 
 how to make a pump ; and I dare say, the man 
 who made the first one, was thought to have a great 
 deal of design, contrivance, and skill ; and if any
 
 142 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 body had said, that it was not made by the man, 
 but came by chance, one day, the people would have 
 laughed at him, as a very foolish man. 
 
 Who contrived and made its little pump for the 
 butterfly, which is indeed, much more curious than 
 our pump in the well is ? Did no one make it ; 
 no one design it for any particular use ? Did all 
 its parts happen to come together by chance not 
 only in one butterfly, but in the millions and mil- 
 lions of butterflies that have lived; and did they 
 happen to come together, just exactly right, and 
 always exactly alike, so as to make the same kind 
 of pump, for hundreds and hundreds of years ? 
 
 For there was a time, my son, when the first 
 butterfly lived, and laid its little eggs. 
 
 R. Oh ! yes, mother, just like the first hen, about 
 which you told me, and then more butterflies came 
 out of the eggs, and so there have been millions, 
 and millions, of butterflies in the world. 
 
 M. But there is a great difference, Robert, be- 
 tween the eggs of a hen, and those of a butterfly. 
 
 R. I know that, mother ; I never saw the eggs 
 of a butterfly, but they must be a great deal smaller 
 than those of a hen. 
 
 M. Yes, some of them are not larger than the 
 head of a pin, and they are very different, in another 
 respect. Little chickens come out of the eggs 
 which the hen lays ; but little butterflies do not 
 come out of the eggs which the butterfly lays. 
 
 The eggs of the butterfly are laid on the leaf of
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 143 
 
 some plant, very often on the leaf of a cabbage, 
 and stuck fast to it, with something like glue, where 
 they remain some weeks, and sometimes months, 
 before they are hatched. The butterfly takes no 
 care of the eggs ; indeed, she dies very soon after 
 laying them, They are hatched by the warmth 
 of the air, and heat of the sun, and at last, out of 
 each egg comes a worm-like caterpillar. 
 
 This caterpillar crawls upon sixteen short legs, 
 and has two jaws, with which it greedily devours 
 leaves. It has twelve eyes, so very small that they 
 cannot be seen without a microscope. 
 
 It eats the leaves of the plant on which the egg 
 was laid, very voraciously, and grows faster than 
 almost any other animal. It grows so fast, that its 
 skin becomes too tight ; and it bursts through it, and 
 casts it off, and very soon has a new skin. This it 
 does five or six times. 
 
 After some weeks, or, in some kinds of caterpillars, 
 some months, this little animal begins to get ready 
 for another singular change. 
 
 It may be seen crawling away from the plant on 
 which it has fed, and trying to find some place, out 
 of sight, where it may be safe from its enemies. For, 
 pretty soon, it will stop eating entirely, and not be 
 able to move, or help, or defend, itself. 
 
 It often climbs up high walls, and gates, and trees, 
 to find such a place as it needs. 
 
 Having found it, the caterpillar spins from its
 
 144 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 mouth a great many, very fine, silken threads, by 
 which it hangs from some projection, or from the 
 underside of a leaf or branch. Some kinds hang 
 with the head downwards ; while others hang side- 
 ways, by means of a silken belt, which they make 
 round the middle of their bodies. 
 
 It now begins to try to force itself, once more, out 
 of its skin ; which, after a great deal of twisting and 
 struggling, it, at last, succeeds in doing. But, 
 sometimes, this is so difficult, that it takes a day or 
 two, to accomplish it. 
 
 Out of the old skin, there comes a little animal, 
 very different from the caterpillar ; and it is called, 
 a chrysalis. 
 
 This chrysalis has little hooks on its tail, with 
 which it fastens itself to something like a small, silk 
 button, which the caterpillar spun, to hang upon. 
 
 It now tries to get the old skin of the caterpillar 
 out of the way ; putting itself in all sorts of shapes ; 
 pushing against the old skin ; and spinning itself 
 round, with a sudden jerk, fifteen or twenty times. 
 At last it succeeds ; the old skin is cast away ; and 
 there hangs the chrysalis, waiting for another, and 
 still more astonishing change. 
 
 Here is a drawing of a caterpillar (a), and of a 
 chrysalis (d), hanging, as I have just been explain- 
 ing to you. 
 
 The shape of the chrysalis is quite different from 
 that of the caterpillar. It is the case which holds
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. l-i5 
 
 the insect, that is soon to come out of it ; and inside 
 of this case, all the parts of the insect are curiously, 
 and carefully, folded up. 
 
 The chrysalis seems hardly to be alive. It keeps 
 hanging from the silk button, and does not move, 
 nor eat. It continues so, sometimes, for weeks ; 
 and, sometimes, for months ; and, sometimes, for n. 
 year, or more ; according to the season when the 
 eggs were laid and hatched, and the time that the 
 caterpillar was growing, and the size of the insect 
 that is to come out of the chrysalis. 
 
 At length the time comes, for the insect to burst 
 its prison-house. It begins to struggle to escape.
 
 146 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 The skin is rent, and, opening wider and wider, out 
 comes a beautiful, winged butterfly. 
 
 This gay, happy insect, glitters in the sunbeam, 
 and floats on the breeze, and sports from flower to 
 flower, and sips the delicious honey, a few summer 
 days, or at most, weeks, and then dies. Before it 
 dies, however, it lays its eggs, from which, in the 
 same way, new caterpillars, and chrysalis, and but- 
 terflies are again to come ; all having their various 
 parts formed with perfect exactness, and, in each 
 state, perfectly alike ; egg like egg, caterpillar like 
 caterpillar, chrysalis like chrysalis, butterfly like 
 butterfly, year after year, from the first butterfly 
 down to the last one that has lived. 
 
 What design, what contrivance, what skill ! No 
 man can imitate it. God alone has wisdom and 
 power, sufficient to do it. And every beautiful but- 
 terfly that you see in your walks, in the fields, tells 
 you, as if you should hear a voice from heaven ; 
 There is a God, who made, and preserves, and governs, 
 all beings and things. 
 
 Before we go, I wish to say one thing more to you 
 about the butterfly. 
 
 What wonderful changes take place in this little 
 animal, from the time that it is in the egg, to the 
 day when it bursts its tomb, and comes forth, no 
 more to crawl on the ground, or to hang lifeless 
 from the branch of a tree, but to fly, freely and joy- 
 fully, through the air. 
 
 Who could have thought such a change possible,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 147 
 
 if some one had not found it out, by actually seeing 
 it? 
 
 But God made this change, and his wisdom and 
 power can make still more wonderful changes. 
 
 He tells us, in the Bible, that these bodies of ours, 
 which must be laid in the grave, and there moulder 
 away to dust, will again come forth more surpri- 
 singly changed than the brilliant butterfly is, when 
 it leaves its confinement. 
 
 If we love and obey God, and trust in that Saviour, 
 who himself, burst the bars of the tomb, and rose 
 from the dead, and is gone to Heaven, we, too, shall 
 rise joyfully from the grave, and our bodies will be- 
 come like unto Christ's glorious body. 
 
 " We shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twink- 
 ling of an eye, at the last trump ; (for the trumpet shall 
 sound ;) and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and 
 we shall be changed." 
 
 " For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and 
 this mortal must put on immortality." 
 
 It is the Bible, my son, which teaches us these 
 wonderful truths. And, while you admire the wis- 
 dom and power of God in the curious butterfly which 
 He has formed, think of that resurrection from the 
 dead, which, if you truly love God, will so change 
 your present feeble and decaying body, that it will 
 live in immortal health, and youth, and strength, and 
 beauty.
 
 148 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 DIALOGUE XV. 
 
 ROBERT. You told me, mother, that there is a 
 kind of butterfly, which lays its eggs upon the leaf 
 of a cabbage, and that the caterpillar, which comes 
 from the egg, eats the leaf of the cabbage for its food. 
 How did the butterfly know, that the cabbage leaf 
 would be the right kind of food for the caterpillar ? 
 
 MOTHER. I am glad, Robert, to hear you ask me 
 such a question, for it shows, that you have been 
 thinking about what I told you. Try, as much as 
 you can, to find out the reason of things. Some- 
 times, you will be able to do this, yourself, and the 
 oftener you can do so, the better ; for every time 
 that you succeed, you will be encouraged, and your 
 mind will be strengthened, to try again, and, per- 
 haps, to succeed again. 
 
 R. I have tried, mother, to find out the reason, 
 why the butterfly always lays its eggs on the right 
 kind of leaf, but I cannot, and so I have asked you 
 to tell me. 
 
 M. It certainly is strange, my son, that the but- 
 terfly should always do so, and never make any 
 mistake ; for you know, it lays its eggs but once, and 
 dies soon after, so that it could not have learned, by 
 doing it several times, where the proper place is, 
 for its eggs to be hatched. Besides, the butterfly 
 never, itself, eats the cabbage leaf ; for it lives on 
 nothing but the sweet honey, which it pumps up 
 from the bottom of the flowers. How, then, should
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 149 
 
 it know, that the caterpillar, which is to come from 
 its egg, will not be able to eat honey, and that its 
 only food must be the cabbage leaf? 
 
 R. Well, mother, I am sure this is strange enough, 
 and I cannot see any reason for it. 
 
 M. I, too, my son, am filled with wonder, when 
 I think of it ; and, I know very little more about it, 
 than you do. I know, that it is so, but how it is so, 
 I shall be able to explain but very little to you. 
 
 Different kinds of insects have very different pla- 
 ces in which to lay their eggs, and, also, very differ- 
 ent ways of doing it. 
 
 There is a kind of moth, which lays its eggs in 
 the autumn, and they are not hatched till the spring. 
 If they were placed upon a leaf, the winds in winter 
 might blow them a great way off, and the caterpillar 
 might starve for want of its proper food. So the 
 moth places the eggs round the twigs of the tree, 
 the leaves of which the caterpillar is to eat. 
 
 The eggs are in rings, and look like little pearls, 
 and the French gardeners call them bracelets. 
 They are glued together, with a kind of gum, which 
 is so hard, that it keeps them from being blown 
 away by the wind, or injured by the rain, or de- 
 voured by any insects. 
 
 All this the moth contrives to do with its tail, and 
 hind feet. 
 
 Does the moth know the reason why it does so ? 
 
 There is a small fly that lays its eggs upon the 
 branches of rose trees, and of other plants, on the
 
 150 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 leaves of which the caterpillar is to feed. To do 
 this, it makes little cells, or small regular holes, to 
 put the eggs in. 
 
 If you had to make these cells, you would have 
 to use a gimlet, to bore the holes, and a file, to 
 make them regular and smooth. But the little fly 
 has no gimlet or file. It has, however, what is 
 quite as good, an instrument like a saw. This 
 saw is more curious than ours, for it has teeth on 
 each side ; so that it is like two saws put together, 
 and can cut both ways, and answer the purpose, 
 both of a gimlet and a file. Does this fly know, 
 that the caterpillar, that is to come out of the egg, 
 will eat only certain kinds of leaves ? 
 
 A small gad-fly, lays its eggs, to be hatched, in 
 the hides or skins, of oxen and cows. I dare say, 
 you have seen these insects flying about the oxen, 
 and troubling them very much ; for the gad-flies 
 hurt them a good deal, when they pierce the skin of 
 any of the tender parts of their bodies. Does the 
 gad-fly know, that it would not do to lay its eggs 
 on the leaves of plants ? 
 
 Did you ever see a spy-glass, Robert ? 
 
 R. Yes, mother ; do you not remember the one 
 that uncle John has, which pulls out so many times ? 
 
 M. Well, the gad-fly has, in its tail, an instru- 
 ment, hard and tough, like horn, made of four pieces, 
 which draw out, just like the pieces of a spy-glass. 
 At the end of it, there are five pointed hooks, three 
 of which are longer than the rest. These form an
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 131 
 
 instrument very much like a gimlet, with which, in 
 a few seconds, the wound is made, and the eggs 
 laid. 
 
 The little ants, which, you know, live together, in 
 great numbers, in their small houses, are very atten- 
 tive, indeed, in taking care of their eggs. All the 
 eggs are laid by one of the ants, which is called, the 
 queen-ant. She does not lay them in any particular 
 place, but any where about the ant- nest. And she 
 does not take the least care of them herself. 
 
 As soon as the eggs are laid, there are other ants, 
 called workers, which immediately take them up 
 in their mouths, and keep turning them backward 
 and forward with their tongue, to moisten them. 
 
 They lay the eggs in heaps, placing them in dif- 
 ferent rooms, and constantly take care of them till 
 they are hatched. Frequently, in the course of the 
 day, they remove them from one part of the nest to 
 another, as they may need more or less heat, or 
 more or less moisture. 
 
 After the eggs are hatched, which happens in a 
 few days, the workers are very careful of the little 
 worms, or grubs, as they are called. They get them 
 food constantly ; and, every day, an hour before sun- 
 set, they regularly remove them to little cells, lower 
 down in the earth, where they will be safe from the 
 cold, and in the morning carry them back again. 
 If it is going to be cold or wet, however, they let 
 them remain in the lower cells. 
 
 What is very remarkable, the workers do all this,
 
 152 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 earlier or later, in the morning and evening, accord- 
 ing as the sun rises and sets, earlier or later. For, 
 as soon as the sun shines on the outside of their nest, 
 the ants that are at the top, go below, in great haste, 
 to rouse their companions, and these quickly carry 
 the grubs to the upper part of the nest, where they 
 leave them a quarter of an hour, and then carry 
 them into rooms, where the sun cannot shine directly 
 upon them. 
 
 Sometimes, the older grubs, in one nest, amount 
 to seven or eight thousand, and the younger ones to 
 as many. 
 
 The older ones eat the most, and the workers 
 have to work very hard to supply them with food, 
 which they do, several times a day. 
 
 They take great pains, too, to keep the grubs 
 clean, and for this purpose, the workers are continu- 
 ally passing their tongues over them. 
 
 After the young grubs have fully grown, they 
 wrap themselves up in a silken case, which they 
 spin out of their own bodies, and now they begin to 
 change their appearance and shape, and each one is 
 called a pupa. 
 
 These pupae, inside of the silken cases, which are 
 called, cocoons ; although they do not eat, require as 
 much care as the grubs did. 
 
 Every morning and evening, they are carried up 
 and down, in the nest, as the eggs were ; and if, 
 at any time, the nest is crushed by the foot of some 
 animal which is passing over it, the ants are all busy
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. loo 
 
 in picking out the cocoons, from the earth, and in 
 putting the nest in order again. 
 
 Do the workers know when the pupae are fully 
 grown, and that it is time for them to come out of 
 the cocoons ? Do they know, too, that the pupae 
 are too weak to do this alone ? for, just at the right 
 time, three or four begin to pull off some of the silken 
 threads from one end of the cocoon, to make it 
 thinner. They make several small openings, and 
 cut the threads, one by one, which separate these 
 openings, till a hole is made, large enough to let the 
 prisoners out. 
 
 They do all this, very gently ; and then, with 
 equal care, pull off the old skins which are on the pu- 
 pae, and watch them for several days, and teach them 
 how to find their way through all the rooms, and 
 windings of the nest. 
 
 If I had time, I would tell you a great deal more 
 about these curious and industrious, little insects ; 
 and, also, about the great variety of ways in which 
 different insects lay their eggs, and provide for their 
 being hatched, and for the caterpillars, and grubs, 
 which come out of the eggs, finding their food. 
 
 It is very difficult to find out, how it is, that insects 
 seem to know so well what to do, to take care of 
 themselves, and of their eggs, and of their young. 
 
 They do some things, which, it would seem, they 
 must think beforehand, how to do. And so do beasts, 
 and birds, and fishes. But, then, all of them do a 
 great many things, very curiously, and exactly, and
 
 154 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 regularly, without seeming to have the least contri- 
 vance, or thought, about it. 
 
 Birds of the same kind, build their nests in the 
 same way, year after year. So do bees, their hives ; 
 and all the little cells are made as exactly of the 
 right size and shape, as if the bees were able to draw 
 lines and figures on paper, and calculate how it 
 ought to be done, just as a man does, how a house 
 should be built. 
 
 Do birds contrive, beforehand, how to build their 
 nests ; and bees, how to make their hives ? Do 
 the old ones teach the young ones, how to do this ? 
 If so, it is strange, that they should do so, exactly 
 alike, year after year, and not make some alteration 
 or improvement. It would take a man a good while, 
 to learn how to make a bee-hive. He would make 
 a great many mistakes, probably, at first, and have 
 to try a great many times, before he got it exactly 
 right. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and after he had skill enough 
 to do it, it would take him a long time, to teach an- 
 other man how to do it. 
 
 M. That is true, Robert ; and if he should teach 
 a hundred men, how to do it, and they should teach 
 a hundred others ; and so on, till a million of men 
 were taught, do you suppose, they would all make 
 their bee-hives exactly alike, as the bees do ? 
 
 R. I think not, mother. 
 
 M. Besides, my son, it takes a great many bees 
 to make one hive, and yet they all go to work on the
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 155 
 
 same plan. They all work together, without con- 
 fusion, or mistake. Some do one thing, and some, 
 another ; and yet they all do just what ought to he 
 done, at the right time, and in the right place, till 
 the hive is finished. This they do, too, in different 
 countries, and in different years, summer after 
 summer. 
 
 If the bees are obliged to learn how to do all this ; 
 if they really think, and reason, and talk about it ; 
 if they truly make their hives with the design of 
 living in them, and storing away their honey, and 
 of taking care of themselves, and of their eggs and 
 their young ; and if they contrive beforehand, how 
 to build their hives, and carry on all their business ; 
 then, in these respects, they have more design, 
 contrivance, and skill than men have. 
 
 R. And if so, mother, I do not see, why they do 
 not learn to do other things for their comfort ; just 
 as when a man has contrived how to make one cu- 
 rious thing, he can easily contrive how to make 
 other curious things. 
 
 M. I think so, too, Robert ; and as men keep 
 finding out, how to make new and useful things, 
 year after year ; and people in some countries grow 
 wiser and more skilful, than they do in some other 
 countries ; it would seem as if it would be so among 
 the bees. But it is not ; they are just as wise and 
 skilful in one country, as in another ; and they are 
 no more so now, than they were thousands of years 
 ago.
 
 156 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 And this is true of all the different kinds of in- 
 sects, of fishes, of birds, and of beasts. 
 
 Man alone has the power of making new disco- 
 veries, and of designing new things ; and of impro- 
 ving, year after year, in wisdom and skill. Men, 
 now, have a great many conveniences, and comforts, 
 and advantages, which they did not have, hundreds 
 of years ago. 
 
 What a difference there is between the house in 
 which we live, and the wigwam of an Indian ; be- 
 tween the clothes which we wear, and the skin of a 
 wild beast, which he throws around him. But there 
 is no such difference between the hives of bees, or 
 between the different things which they get for their 
 comfort. They all live, and fare, alike. 
 
 Sometimes, people have put some of the eggs of a 
 duck into a hen's nest, to be hatched with her own 
 eggs. After the eggs are hatched, the hen will take 
 as good care of the little ducks, as of her own chick- 
 ens. As soon as the ducks can get to any water, 
 deep enough to swim in, away they go, and plunge 
 into it, and swim about, with as little fear, and with 
 as much ease, as the old ducks do. This troubles 
 the hen a great deal. She makes a great noise about 
 it, and does not seem to understand, at all, that the 
 little ducks are made very differently from the chick- 
 ens, with feet on purpose to swim in the water ; and 
 that they will have to get their food in a different 
 way from what the chickens will. 
 
 R. And the hen does not seem to understand,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 157 
 
 mother, that the bill of the ducks is very different 
 from that of the chickens. You recollect, you ex- 
 plained it to me. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, and I am glad, you have not 
 forgotten it. 
 
 You see, the hen does not seem to know any 
 thing about the reason, why the ducks go into the 
 water, and the chickens do not. She tries to keep 
 the ducks from going into it, and, in every way, 
 takes the same care of them and of the chickens, 
 and treats them exactly alike. 
 
 Why is she so stupid about this, when she seems 
 to know so much about other things ? 
 
 And why, too, did the little ducks go so soon into 
 the water ? No duck taught them to do so. The 
 hen tried all she could, to prevent them from doing 
 it. How did they know, that the water would be a 
 good place for them, and that they could swim in it ? 
 
 R. The more you tell me about these things 
 that animals do, mother, the more strange it seems 
 to me. 
 
 M. It is, indeed, strange, my son ; and there is 
 no other way of explaining it, but to consider it, as 
 made to be so, by God himself. 
 
 R. Do you mean, mother, that God makes the 
 butterfly lay its eggs in the right place ; and the 
 ants take care of their eggs, and grubs, and pupae, 
 as they do ; and birds build their nests ; and bees, 
 their hives ; and little ducks go into the water ? 
 
 M. I do, my son, though not in the same way, 
 p
 
 158 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 in which He makes the wind blow, or the lightning 
 come from the clouds, and strike a tree. 
 
 But we have talked a good while, and must stop 
 now. I will talk with you again, to-morrow morn- 
 ing, about the way in which God makes animals 
 do a great many things. 
 
 DIALOGUE XVI. 
 
 MOTHER. Well, Robert, have you had a pleasant 
 walk ? 
 
 ROBERT. A very pleasant one, mother, and I 
 stopped to see a caterpillar hanging from a silk but- 
 ton, on the under side of a leaf. 
 
 M. I cannot think, Robert, that the caterpillar 
 does this because it knows, that it is about to be 
 turned into a chrysalis, and that, afterwards, the 
 chrysalis will be turned into a butterfly. 
 
 R. What, then, makes it do so, mother ? 
 
 M. I was beginning to explain to you, yesterday, 
 about the way in which God makes the caterpillar 
 do this ; and makes other insects, and the fishes, 
 and birds, and beasts, do a great many curious 
 things, for doing which, they do not seem to under- 
 stand the reason at all. 
 
 God gives them different instincts, which direct 
 them to do certain things, without their being 
 obliged to learn how to do them, and without their 
 knowing why they do them.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 159 
 
 Even plants seem to have something like instincts. 
 
 When a grain of corn is put into the ground, (or, 
 indeed, the seed of any plant,) after some time, a 
 green sprout comes out from one end of the kernel, 
 and a good many, little, white threads, from the 
 other end. The sprout finds its way, upward, 
 through the earth, and grows, and becomes a stalk 
 of corn, and bears ears. 
 
 The little threads run downward, and become 
 roots, and help to fix the stalk strongly in the earth, 
 and to draw nourishment for it, from the earth. 
 
 Now, what is very curious, is, that you may put 
 the kernel into the ground, either end up, or either 
 side up, any way that you choose, and the sprout 
 will, always, take the right direction, upward, and 
 the little threads, their right direction, downward. 
 
 R. Mother, did you never see how the beanvines 
 always go towards the poles, and climb round them ? 
 
 M. I have, my son, and this, as well as what I 
 have told you the kernel of corn does, may be 
 considered as an instinct. It is done, without the 
 kernel, or the vine, thinking, or knowing, any thing 
 about it. 
 
 R. Are there any other curious instincts in plants, 
 mother ? 
 
 M. Many, my son. If a vessel of water is placed 
 within six inches of a cucumber vine that is grow- 
 ing, in twenty-four hours, the vine will change its 
 direction, and not stop till it touches the water. 
 
 There is a curious plant, called a fly-trap, the
 
 160 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 leaves of which are jointed, and have two rows of 
 strong prickles on them. 
 
 If a fly, or any other insect, alights on these leaves, 
 instantly they rise up ; the rows of prickles lock 
 themselves fast together, and the little animal is 
 caught, and soon dies. It is thought, that, in some 
 way, the plant is nourished by the dead insect. 
 
 Here is a drawing of a part of this curious plant. 
 You see, a little insect has just got caught in its 
 leaves. 
 
 Here, again, is what may be called, instinct. 
 When the leaves spring together, and catch the 
 insect, and do not open till it dies, the plant feels 
 nothing, and knows nothing, of all this, or of the 
 reason why it is done. 
 
 R. Mother, has a clock instinct ? It strikes to 
 tell us what o'clock it is. 
 
 M. No, my son, we know how the clock strikes. 
 The weight makes the wheels go round, and the 
 wheels raise the hammer, and it strikes the bell.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 161 
 
 We call this mechanism. Machines have not instinct. 
 
 It id only those things which have vegetable and 
 animal life, which have instinct. 
 
 What the cause of instinct is, we do not know, 
 nor in what way God gives it to the plants and ani- 
 mals, and makes them always act as they do, regu- 
 larly, and without any mistake. 
 
 If I move my hand suddenly towards your eyes, 
 as if I was going to strike them, you wink them, 
 instantly. 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and I cannot help doing it. 
 
 M. A little infant does the same. The reason of 
 doing it, is to protect the eye from injury. But nei- 
 ther you, nor the little infant, think of this reason, 
 when you wink your eyes, nor think, at all, about 
 doing it. 
 
 It is instinct, that leads you to do so. 
 
 It is instinct, that directs different animals to do 
 what they do, to preserve their lives, to defend 
 themselves against danger, to provide for their 
 wants, to build their nests, and other habitations to 
 live in, and to take care of their young. 
 
 They do all this, in a very different way from that 
 in which a clock strikes, or a steamboat moves 
 through the water. For animals are not machines. 
 
 They do it, too, in a very different way, from 
 that, in which men learn how to take care of them- 
 selves, and of each other, and to invent and make 
 things, for their comfort and improvement. 
 
 We cannot suppose, that the birds in building 
 p 2
 
 162 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 their nests, or the bees, in making their hives, learn, 
 first how to do it, and then plan and calculate, and 
 reason about it, as men do, when they build a 
 house, a church, a ship, or a bridge. 
 
 We cannot believe, that they have such wonder- 
 ful wisdom, design, contrivance, and skill. It is in- 
 stinct which directs them ; and, in this way, God 
 shows us his great wisdom, and power, and good- 
 ness. For He made the first butterfly with an in- 
 stinct, to lay its eggs on the proper leaf; and the 
 caterpillar, to eat this leaf, and to hang, just at the 
 right time, from the silk button ; and the chrysalis 
 to come out from the skin of the caterpillar, and hang, 
 also, from the silk button ; and, at last, the butterfly 
 to come out from its case, which it has to strive very 
 hard to do, and stretch its wings, and seek its food, 
 and lay its eggs, before it dies. 
 
 How wonderful, that these instincts, thus go from 
 the old butterfly to the young ones, and so on, for 
 hundreds and thousands of years. 
 
 Think of all the beasts, and birds, and fishes, and 
 insects, that are now living, and that have ever 
 lived ; how many millions, and millions, and mil- 
 lions of them there have been. They have all had 
 their peculiar instincts, directing them, in different 
 ways, to do the different things that were necessary 
 for their safety and comfort, and for that of their 
 young. 
 
 How these instincts are given to animals, and 
 made to act with so much certaintv and accuracy ;
 
 OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 163 
 
 how they are made to go from the old to their young, 
 and from these to their young again, and so on, we 
 cannot understand, nor explain. 
 
 God alone, knoics, how it is done ; for He does it. 
 And it is, my son, even a more striking proof of his 
 design, contrivance, and skill, than the wonderful 
 way in which He has made the different parts of the 
 bodies of animals, and put them together. 
 
 You told me, some time ago, that you should 
 think it would be very wonderful, indeed, if a man 
 could make a watch, so that the wheels should move 
 and move, in such a way, as to have another watch 
 come out from it, as a chicken does from an egg, and 
 another watch from this, and so on, and so on. 
 
 But suppose, a man, besides this, could make the 
 first watch, so that it could keep going of itself, for 
 one year, and then tumble all to pieces ; but, just 
 before it tumbled to pieces, it should move its 
 wheels, as if by instinct, and make another watch 
 like itself, to go as it had done, and, at the end of 
 a year, make another watch, and, then, tumble to 
 pieces ; and so on, and so on. What would you 
 think of this ? 
 
 R. I should think, mother, that the design, con- 
 trivance, and skill, of the man was so great, that if 
 I did not see the watches, I could hardly believe any 
 thing about it. 
 
 M. How much greater design, contrivance, and 
 skill, are seen in the instincts of butterflies, and of 
 other animals; so that here is another kind of proof ,
 
 164 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 different from any that we have had before, of the 
 existence, wisdom, power, and goodness of God. 
 
 R. I shall think of it, mother, when I see a bird 
 building its nest, or the caterpillar spinning its 
 threads. 
 
 M. I hope you will, my son, and thus, as you 
 look around you, see God in all things ; in the little 
 ant beneath your feet, as well as in the larger ani- 
 mals ; in their wonderful instincts, as well as in their 
 curious bodies, and motions ; in the flowers, and 
 plants, and trees ; in the gentle breeze, and in the 
 roaring storm ; in the glorious sun, by day ; and in 
 the beautiful moon and stars, by night. 
 
 R. Before we stop talking, mother, I wish to ask 
 you one question. 
 
 M. Do, my son ; you know, I am always ready to 
 answer your inquiries. 
 
 R. Do not animals sometimes think, beforehand, 
 how they will do certain things, and why they will 
 do them ? 
 
 M. Yes, Robert, I cannot but think so. They 
 often do things which cannot be explained by mere 
 instinct. 
 
 A friend of mine told me this story about a 
 horse, which belonged to a gentleman who was a 
 physician. 
 
 One night, the physician was absent. His wife 
 was awaked by a very great noise in the entry, near 
 the door of her room, which was on the lower floor. 
 She rose quickly, and dressed herself. It seemed,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 165 
 
 as if a number of men were walking back and 
 forth, and stamping, with great violence. She was 
 greatly alarmed, and cried out for help. A gentle- 
 man, who slept in the room directly over hers, 
 heard her, and immediately dressed himself, and ran 
 down stairs into her room. He did not see who was 
 in the entry, as it was very dark, At first, he was 
 afraid, that several robbers had broken into the 
 house ; and there appeared to be so many of them, 
 that he did not dare to open the door. The noise 
 continued, but no voices were heard. At length, he 
 opened the door, having first procured a light ; and 
 there stood the physician's horse, appearing to be 
 in very great distress. He was led back to the sta- 
 ble ; and died the next morning. 
 
 There seems to be hardly a doubt, that the horse, 
 being in great pain, thought that his master could 
 relieve him, and went to the door of his chamber, 
 for that purpose. 
 
 What makes the conduct of the horse the more 
 surprising, is, that he was able to find his way into 
 the house, and to his master's room, where he had 
 never been before. To do this, he was obliged to 
 unlatch the door of his stable, and to cross a gar- 
 den, in which there were two flights of steps that he 
 descended, and, then, to open the outside, back- 
 door of the house. Mere instinct, could not have 
 led him to do all this. 
 
 II. Mother, are you really sure, that all this story 
 is true?
 
 166 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. I am, my son. I have been at the house of 
 the physician, and seen the stable and garden ; and 
 the gentleman who told me the story, was the person 
 that found the horse in the entry ; so that I have 
 not the least doubt, it all happened just as I have 
 told you. 
 
 If I had time, I could tell you many other stories, 
 to show you that some animals think, and feel, and 
 reason, and design to do certain things, for certain 
 purposes. 
 
 R. Then they are like us, mother. 
 
 M. Yes, my son, in some few things ; but, after 
 all, what a vast difference there is between them 
 and us. In one thing, you know, we are entirely 
 different from them. They do not know, neither can 
 they be taught, the least possible thing about God, 
 and the soul, and a future world after death. They 
 have no ideas, or feelings, with regard to what is 
 right and wrong ; and when they reason at all, 
 which but very few of them do, in but very few in- 
 stances, they reason only about some little things, 
 and there stop. Their reason does not seem to im- 
 prove, and the wisest of them, knows but very little, 
 indeed, except what it knows and does, by instinct. 
 
 R. Mother, I do not understand exactly, what 
 reason is. Will you please to explain it to me. 
 
 M. It would take me a long while, Robert, to 
 tell you all about it, but I will tell you enough, to 
 show you, how very different reason is from instinct. 
 
 If something is coming very suddenly towards
 
 ON NATURAL, THEOLOGY. 167 
 
 your eyes, you shut them ; but you do not think 
 that you will do this, or why you will do it. You 
 do it from instinct, or, as we say, instinctively. 
 
 I have read a story of a lady who was one day 
 walking alone, in a country where tigers live. One 
 of these terrible animals suddenly appeared, and 
 began to approach her. What could she do, to 
 defend herself ? In an instant, she thought of one 
 thing, that might possibly drive the tiger away. 
 She had a parasol in her hand. She opened it sud- 
 denly towards the tiger, and he was so frightened 
 by it, that he immediately turned about, and ran off 
 into the woods. 
 
 The lady perceived the great danger she was in ; 
 she thought, how she might prevent the tiger from 
 attacking her ; she thought opening the parasol sud- 
 denly towards him, might do this ; and she opened 
 the parasol for this very purpose. 
 
 In doing this, she reasoned, She had seen little 
 children, perhaps, or some kinds of animals, startled, 
 by having something come very suddenly towards 
 them. She might have been alarmed herself, some 
 time, or other, in this way. She recollected it, and 
 thought, that, in the same way, the tiger might be 
 alarmed, by the opening of her parasol. 
 
 It was reason, and not instinct, that led her to act 
 so wisely. 
 
 The caterpillar throws off its old skin, exactly at 
 the right time ; not because it thinks, that it will 
 have a new, and better one, or that it must do this
 
 168 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 several times, that, at last, it may be prepared to 
 hang from the silk button, and become a chrysalis, 
 and, afterwards, a beautiful butterfly. It knows 
 nothing about these wonderful changes. How can 
 it ? It never passed through them before, nor saw 
 any other caterpillar pass through them ; nor has it 
 ever been taught about them by any other insect. 
 What the caterpillar does, it does, without thinking 
 of the different ways in which it must act, or of the 
 purpose for which it must act. It acts entirely from 
 instinct. 
 
 When your uncle John takes off his thick woollen 
 coat, in the spring, (as the weather begins to be 
 quite warm,) and lays it away in his trunk, and puts 
 on a thinner one, -he does this, not from instinct, 
 but from reason. 
 
 He has learned, from having done so before, that 
 it is best for his comfort and health ; he thinks, that 
 the cold weather is passed, and that the summer is 
 coming on, and that he shall not need his thick, 
 warm coat again till the autumn, unless it may be, 
 now and then, on a cool day. What he does, he 
 does on purpose, and can tell you, why he does it. 
 He does it from reason. 
 
 Instinct is that something which God gives to 
 animals, so that it is as much a part of them as 
 their life is, which directs them to do certain things 
 to preserve their lives, and to take care of them- 
 selves, and of their young, and to continue their 
 different kinds, year after year ; and to do all this
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 certainly and regularly, without having been taught 
 it, and with as much skill, the first time, as the 
 second, third, fourth, or any time, afterward and 
 without thinking, why it is done. 
 
 Reason is, also, the gift of God. It is his peculiar 
 gift to man. It is that w r hich makes man so very 
 different from beasts, birds, fishes, and insects. 
 
 You see reason beginning to show itself in a very 
 young child. How soon the child seems to learn 
 both how, and why, to do certain things. It soon 
 understands, also, how, and why, other persons do 
 certain things. It early shows design in what it 
 does, and sometimes, considerable contrivance and 
 skill. 
 
 When it learns to talk, how soon it begins to 
 inquire how things are made, and why things are 
 made ; how things are done, and why they are 
 done. 
 
 The child very early understands why it ought 
 to do what is right, and not to do what is wrong ; 
 and how it ought to behave towards its parents ; 
 and do to others, as it would have others do to it. 
 It continues to improve, and understands how and 
 why, it must believe that there is a God, who made 
 all beings and things, and how, and why, it must 
 love, obey, and serve him, that its soul may be 
 prepared, after its body is dead, to go to Heaven, 
 and be holy and happy, there for ever. It is reason 
 that directs the child to do all this. 
 
 But if I should go on to tell you all the things 
 u
 
 170 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 which reason enables children and men to do, I 
 might spend years in telling you. 
 
 Whenever we think, how any thing was made, 
 or why it was made, we reason. Whenever we 
 think, how a thing might be done, and why it 
 would be well to have it done, we reason. When- 
 ever we think, why we ought to act in a certain 
 way, so as to do right, or not to act in a certain 
 way, so as not to do wrong, we reason. When- 
 ever we think, how, or why, any thing will make 
 us and others, more wife, or good, or happy, or 
 less so, we reason. 
 
 And, because our minds, or souls, are able to 
 do all this, we say they have reason, and that rea- 
 son enables them to do it. 
 
 R. Mother, how glad I am, that I have reason. 
 
 M. That you may well be, my son. When you 
 see the little birds, and insects, doing many curious 
 things, the wonderful instincts which direct them 
 to do these things, show you that there is a God. 
 But how much more striking is the proof, that 
 there is a God, when you see children, and grown 
 people, doing those things which are so far, far 
 above instinct, and which reason alone enables them 
 to do. 
 
 How did man get this wonderful power of his 
 soul ? Whence came his soul itself ? How came it 
 to be united to his body ? 
 
 You have seen, how our bodies alone, from the 
 design, contrivance, and skill, with which they are
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 171 
 
 made, and their different parts put together, and 
 kept in order, prove that there is a God. How 
 much more, then, do our souls prove this ; with 
 powers so superior to those of the body ; with 
 reason so superior to the instincts of brutes ; with 
 reason, the peculiar gift of God to man, and which 
 makes man somewhat like God. 
 
 How thankful, my son, should you be to God, 
 for giving you reason. And how -careful should 
 you be so to use your reason, that you may con- 
 tinue to improve in knowledge, and goodness, 
 that you may make others and yourself, wiser, 
 better, and happier, that you may become more 
 and more like God, and thus be prepared to know 
 more of him, in heaven ; and to be happy, in loving 
 and serving him, for ever. 
 
 DIALOGUE XVII. 
 
 ROBERT. Mother, uncle John has made me a 
 new bat to play ball with, out of a hard piece of 
 wood, and it is the best bat that I ever had. 
 
 MOTHER. Suppose he had made it a foot longer, 
 how would you like it then. 
 
 R. It would not do for me, mother. I should 
 think, then, that uncle John had made it for 
 himself. 
 
 M. Yes, your uncle John needs a longer bat to 
 play ball with, than you do ; and a little boy would
 
 172 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 need a shorter bat, so that the bat must be suited 
 to the height of the person. This we call proportion. 
 And if your bat just suits your height, we say that 
 the proportion between the length of the bat, and 
 the height of your body, is right. Do you not 
 think, your uncle John thought of this proportion, 
 when he made your bat ? 
 
 R. I am sure he did, mother ; for before he cut it 
 off, he asked me, several times, to take hold of it at 
 the right place, and see how long it ought to be. 
 
 M. He had a design, then, in making it of just 
 the length that he did. Do you suppose, that the 
 man who made the chairs, in this room, had a design 
 in making them just as high as they are ? 
 
 R. Certainly he had, mother. He made them 
 for men and women to sit on, and that small, low 
 chair, he made for a little boy or girl to sit on. 
 
 Did you ever think, my son, how our houses, and 
 furniture, and all the different kinds of things 
 which we use to work with, are proportioned to 
 the size of men and women, and to the use which 
 we make of them ? 
 
 R. I never did before, mother, but now that you 
 have told me, I see that it is so. 
 
 M. If you should see a house with doors only 
 half as high and wide as the doors of our house ; 
 and windows half as large ; and go inside and find 
 every thing in the same proportion, all the tables, 
 and chairs, and beds, and things to be used, just 
 half the size of ours, what would you think ?
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 173 
 
 R. I should think, the house, and all the things 
 in it, were made for people, only half as large, and 
 tall, as you and uncle John are. 
 
 M. Yes; and that would certainly appear to 
 be the design of the person who contrived the 
 house, and had it built, and the things made, and 
 put into it. 
 
 Proportion, then, between the different parts of 
 a thing, or between one thing and others, is one way 
 in which we see proofs of design, contrivance, and 
 skill. 
 
 R. Mother, I have just thought, if my arms 
 were as long as uncle John's, or his arms as short 
 as mine, how inconvenient it would be. 
 
 M. True, my son ; and only think how all the 
 parts of your body, are not only suited, but exactly 
 proportioned, to each other. 
 
 How clumsy a head would be, two or three 
 times larger than the one you now have. It would 
 require stronger muscles to move it about, and a 
 stronger neck to support it. And if your legs were 
 twice as long as they are, how awkward many of 
 your motions would be, and how hard it would be 
 for you to bend down, and stoop, and pick up 
 things. Your arms, then, would have to be longer, 
 to have the right proportion, and indeed, all the parts 
 of your body would have to be larger, so as to have 
 one suited to the other. 
 
 Think, too of the proportion between our bodies, 
 and the things and beings around us. 
 Q 2
 
 174 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. I do not exactly understand you, mother. 
 
 M. I will explain to you what I mean. Suppose 
 our cows were two or three times taller than they 
 are, would it not be very inconvenient ? 
 
 R. It would be, indeed. I do not see, how they 
 could be milked. 
 
 M. Well, Robert, there is a suitable proportion 
 between them, and the size of men and women. 
 
 And so it is with the horse, that animal which is 
 of the greatest use to man. If horses were two or 
 three times taller than they are, it would be almost 
 impossible to ride on horseback ; and if we used 
 them in carts, and wagons, and chaises, and stages, 
 these would have to be made larger, and higher, 
 and very differently from what they are now. 
 What would the farmer do, when he ploughed his 
 field ? It would give him a great deal of trouble. 
 
 R. And so it would, the hostler, mother, to take 
 care of them. 
 
 M. And if our dogs and cats were as big as 
 horses and cows, we could not let them come into 
 our houses. 
 
 R. And, besides, mother, how could the cats catch 
 rats and mice. 
 
 M. You see, my son, there is a proportion be- 
 tween the size of a man, and that of the animals 
 which are intended for his use. And you will see a 
 similar proportion, too, between the different kinds 
 of animals, of beasts, of birds, of fishes, of insects, 
 and of plants.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 175 
 
 A great many animals live on grass and plants 
 of different kinds ; and their shape and size and 
 height are such, and their head and body, and 
 limbs, so proportioned, that they can get their food 
 without difficulty. 
 
 Other animals prey upon different kinds of ani- 
 mals for food ; and their size and their strength, and 
 their means of securing their prey, are proportioned 
 to this object. If mice were obliged to catch cats for 
 food ; or the deer to catch the lion ; or flies to catch 
 spiders; or insects to catch the birds they would 
 soon starve. 
 
 How easily, too, all our food is obtained. We 
 eat the flesh of animals ; and we have the knowledge 
 and the skill necessary, to provide this kind of food, 
 although we are not so strong as many of the animals 
 which we use for food. The proportion, here, is not 
 between our size and theirs, or between our strength 
 and theirs, but between our knowledge and contri- 
 vance, and skill, and theirs. In these respects, we 
 are greatly their superiors, and if it were not so, 
 there are many of them which we could not procure 
 for food. 
 
 We eat fruit, too, and vegetables, and our great 
 article of food, bread, is procured from grain. How 
 well adapted the size of the vegetables is to our 
 size. If they were much smaller, or if they were 
 a great deal larger, it would be difficult to cultivate 
 them, and to gather them in at the proper season, 
 and take care of them.
 
 176 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 If potatoes were no larger than peas, and had 
 to be planted, and hoed, as they now are, it would 
 be very fatiguing, indeed, to do it, and they would 
 hardly be worth raising. And if wheat, and rye, 
 and oats, grew five or six feet high, and with a 
 larger stalk, men would not be tall enough to reap 
 them, or, at any rate, it would be a very difficult and 
 troublesome task. Most of the pleasantest and most 
 common fruits can be gathered with the hand, and 
 held in it, while we are eating them. There is a 
 proportion between them and our hands, 
 
 R. Yes, mother, and I was thinking how awkward, 
 and inconvenient it would be, if apples and pears 
 were as large as pumpkins. 
 
 M. There is a proper proportion, also, between 
 the size of animals, and that of their young. If the 
 little birds that come out of the eggs, were as large 
 as the old ones, or if they grew much faster than 
 they do, the nest would not be large enough for 
 them, and they would require so much food, that 
 it would be very difficult for the old ones to take 
 care of them. 
 
 R. Mother, I have just thought about another 
 instinct that birds must have. 
 
 M. What is that, my son ? 
 
 R. That which directs them to make their nests, 
 of the right proportion for the size of their eggs, 
 and of the little birds which are to come out of 
 them. 
 
 M. Yes, Robert, that is a striking instance of
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 177 
 
 right proportion, and of a curious instinct, at the 
 same time. 
 
 You see a similar instance of proportion, and of 
 instinct, in the sizes and accommodations of all the 
 nests, and hives, and places, which animals prepare 
 for their own comfort, and that of their young. 
 
 Who gave them this nice instinct of proportion , -> 
 How happens it to be so certain, so regular, and so 
 universal ? Does chance produce exact and suit- 
 able proportions ? suppose your uncle John should 
 write a letter to a tailor, who never saw him, to have 
 a suit of clothes made, and should not send any mea- 
 sure ; and the tailor should not know whether he 
 was a tall, or a short man, a large, or a small one. 
 The clothes might possibly chance to fit, and be pro- 
 portioned to your uncle John's size and shape. But 
 it would be a mere chance. The tailor might try a 
 thousand times before he would make the suit of 
 clothes to fit exactly. 
 
 But suppose he had to make suits in the same 
 way, without any measures, for a thousand men. 
 How many, then, would their clothes exactly fit ? 
 It would be a wonder, if the proportion was right, 
 even in one instance. 
 
 But millions of birds and insects have made their 
 nests and hives of the right proportion, for their own 
 comfort, and that of their eggs and young, without 
 taking any measure beforehand, or making any cal- 
 culation, or, indeed, thinking at at all about this 
 proportion.
 
 178 THE YOUTH S BOOK 
 
 How could they do this, unless God had given 
 them the instinct of proportion ? 
 
 This instinct proves that there is a God ; and 
 this, and all the other instances of proportion, which 
 you see in your own body, and in that of animals, 
 and of plants, and in the size, and height, and shape 
 of men, and animals, and plants, with regard to each 
 other, all show the great wisdom, power, and good- 
 ness of God. 
 
 When you make a kite, or a bat, or any thing 
 else ; you know how much you have to think, and 
 how careful you have to be, to get all the proportions 
 exactly right. 
 
 And if you could see a person cutting out a sta- 
 tue from a large block of marble, and giving it size 
 and shape, and all the nice proportions, so as to make 
 it look just like a human body, you would greatly 
 admire the design, contrivance, and skill of the 
 statuary. 
 
 And if you could see the great church of St. 
 Peter at Rome, more than 700 feet in length, and 
 500 in breadth, with its immense dome, rising to 
 the height of 400 feet ; and all its beautiful and 
 grand parts, both without and within : and the exact 
 proportions between these parts, and the whole 
 building ; what would you think of the design and 
 contrivance of the architect who planned this vast 
 temple, and of the skill of those who built it ? 
 
 But look at what God has wrought. What beau- 
 tiful proportions in the stem, the branches, the
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 179 
 
 leaves, the buds, the flowers, of the rose-bush ; in 
 the head, the body, the wings, the feathers, the feet 
 of birds; in the head, the horns, the neck, the body, 
 and the limbs, of the deer ; and, above all, in the 
 size, and shape, and parts, of the human frame ! 
 What useful proportions, too, in ourselves, and in 
 all the beings and things, with which we are ac- 
 quainted ! What beautiful and grand proportions, 
 in the hills, and valleys, and plains, and rivers, and 
 trees, and plants, that fill the landscapes which are 
 spread around us ! And astronomy would show you 
 still more magnificent and sublime proportions between 
 this earth, on which we live, and that sun round 
 which it revolves, and the moon and planets, and 
 the hosts of stars ; proportions of shape, and size, 
 and weight, and distance, and attraction, which 
 would fill you with admiration and awe ! 
 
 God is the great statuary, who has moulded and 
 formed all the things and beings which you see. 
 
 God is the great architect, who has built this 
 world, and all worlds. 
 
 God has made all those useful, and beautiful, and 
 grand proportions, of which this world, and all 
 worlds, are full. 
 
 Whenever you admire, or wonder at, these pro- 
 portions, think of the Author of them. Think of 
 his wisdom, and power, which could design and 
 make them. This wisdom and power are infinite. 
 Think of his goodness, which has thus furnished 
 you with a constant source of the purest enjoyment,
 
 ISO THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 in looking at the thousand beautiful, and grand, ob- 
 jects which surround you. 
 
 In this way, every thing that is lovely, will have 
 a new loveliness ; and every thing that is grand, a 
 new grandeur ; because you will feel, that they were 
 thus made, to promote our happiness, by our Father 
 who is in Heaven. 
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 
 
 MOTHER. I told you, yesterday, Robert, some- 
 thing about the proportions between ourselves, and 
 the different beings and things which surround us. 
 There is another subject, something like this, which, 
 also, shows us the great wisdom, power, and good- 
 ness of God. 
 
 ROBERT. Will you be so good, mother, as to ex- 
 plain it to me. 
 
 M. I will endeavour to do it. 
 
 You know, all animals breathe, and if they did 
 not, they could not live. The air which they draw 
 in, goes to the lungs ; (that part of the body by 
 which we breathe ;) and there it meets the blood, 
 which also goes to the lungs, from the heart. The 
 air causes some change in the blood, which, after 
 being thus changed, goes back again to the heart, 
 and is sent to all parts of the body. If the blood 
 did not receive this change from the air, it would 
 not nourish, and give life to, all the parts of the 
 body, as it does.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 181 
 
 The heart and the lungs are very curiously made, 
 and so are the arteries, which, like tubes, carry the 
 blood all over the body, from the heart ; and the 
 veins ; which, like tubes, also carry it back again. 
 You know, when the heart ceases to beat, and the 
 lungs to breathe, a person dies. 
 
 R. Do explain to me, mother, how the heart and 
 lungs are made ; as you did, about the muscles and 
 nerves. 
 
 M. I intend to do it, at some future time, my 
 son, and to show you all the pictures which are ne- 
 cessary to your understanding it. 
 
 At present, it will be enough for you to know, 
 that the lungs are made on purpose to breathe with, 
 and that the heart is made on purpose to send the 
 blood to the lungs, and after the blood has received 
 its change there, to send it throughout the whole 
 body. 
 
 The lungs would be of no use without the heart, 
 nor the heart without the lungs ; and neither would 
 be of any use, if there was no air for the lungs to 
 breathe, or no blood to be prepared by the air, to 
 give nourishment and life to the whole body. 
 
 The air is just what is needed for the lungs to 
 breathe, and the lungs are made exactly to breathe 
 the air. 
 
 Here is another striking instance of design, con- 
 trivance, and skill, in thus making one thing suit 
 another, which is called adaptation. 
 
 R. Do fishes breathe, mother ?
 
 182 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 M. They do, my son. They breathe with their 
 gills. 
 
 R. But how can they breathe air, when they are 
 under the water ? 
 
 M. The water is drawn in at the mouth of the 
 fish, and sent to the gills, where a certain portion 
 of air which is in the water, changes the blood, 
 which is also sent to the gills, from the heart. 
 
 R. The gills, then, mother, are the lungs of 
 fishes. 
 
 M. They are so, my son ; and the leaves of trees 
 and plants, are their lungs, by which they derive 
 from the air something which is necessary for their 
 growth and life. Plants, as well as animals, cannot 
 live without air. 
 
 R. Have little insects lungs, mother ? 
 M. They have not, my son, any lungs which are 
 like those of men, beasts, birds, or fishes. But 
 there are tubes, or wind-pipes, in some insects, 
 standing out from different parts of their body, 
 through which they breathe. In others, as is the 
 case in many caterpillars, there are small holes along 
 the sides, through which the air passes. 
 
 R. Well, there is plenty of air, mother, for all the 
 animals and plants. 
 
 M. There is so, Robert. The earth, which, you 
 know, is a great ball, is entirely surrounded with 
 air ; and all this air is called the atmosphere. It has 
 weight ; and the whole atmosphere presses on the 
 surface of the earth with as much force as water
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 183 
 
 would, if it was all round the earth to the height of 
 thirty-four feet. 
 
 R. How much heavier is water than air, mother ? 
 
 M. About eight hundred times. But there are 
 some other things about the air, that show how 
 wonderfully it is adapted to certain parts of our 
 body, which I wish to explain to you. 
 
 You know, we hear sounds through the ear. In- 
 side of the ear, there is a thin skin, called the drum 
 of the ear, with four little bones near it, so made 
 that when the drum of the ear vibrates, all the bones 
 are put in motion. 
 
 R. Mother, what does vibrate mean ? 
 
 M. See, I am going to stick my penknife a little 
 way into this piece of wood, so that it will stand up 
 straight. Now I will strike the top of the knife with 
 my finger. 
 
 You see how the knife moves quickly backwards 
 and forwards. It vibrates. 
 
 When you strike the top of a drum, it vibrates, 
 and so does the little drum of the ear. 
 
 R. But what strikes the drum of the ear, mother ? 
 
 M. The air. When the clapper of a bell strikes 
 against the side of it, the bell has a great many 
 quick vibrations. These vibrations of the bell, make 
 vibrations in the air around it ; and these make other 
 vibrations, and these still wider ones ; just as a stone, 
 thrown into smooth water, puts the water in motion, 
 and makes a little circle round it, and this circle 
 makes a larger one, and this, one still larger, till the
 
 184 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 water is put in motion for a great distance, and 
 strikes against the little plant that is growing in 
 the water, near the opposite shore, and puts it in 
 motion. 
 
 So the vibrations of the air, which the vibrations 
 of the bell cause, at last strike against the drum of 
 the ear, and put it into motion, and it vibrates. 
 
 This vibration of the drum of the ear, makes the 
 four little bones vibrate. 
 
 The vibrations of these bones put a watery fluid in 
 motion, which is in a hollow place, at the back of the 
 drum of the ear. 
 
 The vibrations of the watery fluid, somehow or 
 other, affect the end of a nerve ; and this nerve, 
 which goes to the brain, carries to it the sensation 
 of sound and we hear. 
 
 R. If you had not told me, mother, I am sure, I 
 should not have thought, that there were so many 
 curious parts in my ear, and that so much must be 
 done, before I can hear a single sound. 
 
 M. Well, my son, what will the atheist say, to all 
 that I have told you about breathing and hearing ? 
 
 Did the air happen to have just such parts, that, if 
 it can be made to meet the blood which flows through 
 our whole body, it will cause just that change in the 
 blood, which is absolutely necessary to nourish the 
 body, and keep it alive ? 
 
 And did the heart happen to come together just so, 
 as to form a curious kind of machine, and, every 
 time that the blood is brought back to it by the veins,
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 185 
 
 to send it to the lungs to meet the air, and, after it 
 comes back again, changed by the air, to send it all 
 over the body, to nourish it, and keep it alive ? 
 
 And did the heart happen to be so powerful a ma- 
 chine, that it will keep going, and never get out of 
 order, for seventy or eighty years, when a person 
 lives so long ; and do this, too, although it works 
 very hard, all the while, day and night ? 
 
 For the heart contracts, and so forces the blood 
 out of it, four thousand five hundred times, in one 
 hour. You know you can feel it beat, every time 
 that it contracts. 
 
 All the blood that is in the body of a grown per- 
 son, of common size, weighs about thirty-three 
 pounds, and all this passes through the heart, and is 
 sent all over the body, nearly twenty-three times in 
 one hour, or once, in a little more than every two 
 minutes and a half. Did chance make this wonder- 
 ful heart ? 
 
 Then the lungs happened to be just suited, both to 
 the heart and to the air, so as to bring the air and 
 the blood together, in just the proper quantity, and 
 just at the right time, and just often enough. It 
 would not do for the lungs to go too fast for the 
 heart ; nor the heart too fast for the lungs, To 
 keep the body in good health, their motions must be 
 proportioned to each other. 
 
 And did chance make all those parts of the heart, 
 the lungs, and the air; and make them all with the 
 right .proportions ; and put each together, so as to 
 R 2
 
 186 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 act without any irregularity or confusion ; and set, 
 and keep them, in motion, so as to go exactly right ; 
 and thus adapt them to each other ? 
 
 R. Mother, I think, again, of the text of scrip- 
 ture which you repeated to me. 
 
 " The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God." 
 
 M. I am sure, my son, that you will never be 
 guilty of such folly, after all the proofs which I 
 have given you of the being, the wisdom, the power, 
 and the goodness of God. And if, when you grow 
 up, you meet with any one so foolish and wicked, 
 as to doubt, whether there is a God, you will be 
 able to give him the proofs, that there is, indeed, a 
 great and good Being who made him, and all other 
 beings and things, and, perhaps you may be able to 
 convince him of this, and, with the blessing of God, 
 help to make him a better, and a happier man. 
 
 R. I am sure, mother, I will try to do so, if I 
 ever meet with such a person. 
 
 M. I have some other things to tell you about 
 the air, Robert, which will still further show you, 
 how admirably it is adapted to the convenience 
 and comfort of man. 
 
 R. There seems, mother, to be as much that is 
 curious and wonderful about the adaptation of things 
 to each other, as there is about what you told me of 
 their proportion to each other. 
 
 M. There is, indeed, and the air is one striking 
 instance of it. 
 
 If it were not for the air, we could not see dif- 
 ferent objects as well as we do.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 187 
 
 R. Why not, mother ? Is it not the sun which 
 gives us light ? I do not see how the air can make 
 any difference in that light. 
 
 M. Did you ever take a looking-glass, Robert, 
 and hold it so that the sun can shine upon it ; and 
 then turn it, so that the shining of the sun upon it, 
 may be cast upon the wall of the room ? 
 
 R. I have, mother, and you know, you can make 
 the bright spot move about, all sorts of ways, on 
 the wall. 
 
 M. Well, we say, that the looking-glass reflects 
 the light of the sun, which shines upon it, on to the 
 wall. 
 
 Now, suppose, there is a room shut up so tight, 
 that it is quite dark in all parts of it, except some 
 very little streams of light, that come through a 
 few holes in the window-shutter, as big as the head 
 of a pin. 
 
 That would not give light enough, for you to see 
 to do any thing in the room. 
 
 Suppose, you could place several looking-glasses, 
 so as to reflect these streams of light, in different 
 directions ; and, then, other looking-glasses, to re- 
 flect again the light coming from the first ; and, 
 then, still more, to keep reflecting the light, in all 
 possible ways ; this would scatter the light, so com- 
 pletely, into all parts of the room, and upon all the 
 things in it, that you could see quite well. 
 
 The air does something exactly like this. It is 
 made up of millions and millions of little particles,
 
 188 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 smaller, a great deal smaller, than the point of a 
 pin, which reflect the light, from one to another, 
 in all possible ways, and on all the things that we 
 see, and throughout all places, however large. If 
 the air had not this power of reflecting light, we 
 could see nothing, only those things on which the 
 sun shines directly ; all other things and places 
 would be in the dark. 
 
 All the things, too, which we did see, would be 
 bright, and many of them dazzling, in the midst of 
 dark objects around them. How different this 
 would be, from the soft and pleasant light, which is 
 now reflected by the air upon all those objects on 
 which the sun does not shine directly. What beau- 
 tiful colours the landscape has, from this mixture 
 of brighter and softer light. So that the air is 
 adapted, you see, not only to scatter light enough 
 in all directions, to enable us to do what is neces- 
 sary to be done ; but it furnishes us, also, with a 
 constant source of enjoyment in beholding beauti- 
 ful tints, and colours, and shades, in all the objects 
 around us. 
 
 If I had time, I could show you how the differ- 
 ent parts of the eye are made, and put together, so 
 as .to receive the light reflected to it from different 
 objects ; and to carry this light on the back part of 
 the eye ; and, there, to form a most curious little 
 picture of the things at which we are looking, ex- 
 actly like them, only thousands of times smaller ; 
 and, then, somehow or other, to have this little
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 189 
 
 picture affect a nerve, and this nerve affect the brain, 
 and thus enable us to see. 
 
 R. Mother, I do wish to have the different parts 
 of the eye explained to me. 
 
 M. I hope to be able to do it, my son, before a 
 great while, but I cannot do it now. I will tell 
 you, however, some few things more about seeing, 
 before we go. 
 
 I have shown you, how the air reflects the light, 
 in all directions, and how necessary this is for our 
 convenience, and how much it contributes to our 
 enjoyment. The air is admirably adapted to this 
 purpose. 
 
 But light, also, is most curiously made ; so as to 
 be reflected by the air, and received by the eye. 
 You know, how very small the particles of air are, 
 that reflect the light ; and how small the little hole 
 is, in the front of the eye, that receives them ; and 
 how small the little picture is, on the back part of 
 the eye,, which affects the nerve and the brain, and 
 enables us to see. Now the particles of light are 
 proportioned to all this, and to the swiftness with 
 which they move, so as to enable us quickly to see 
 things, even at a very great distance. 
 
 Light goes at the rate of 195,000 miles in one 
 second of time, which is faster than a cannon ball 
 goes, by one million, five hundred, and fifty thou- 
 sand times. The sun is ninety-five millions of 
 miles from the earth, and yet light comes to us 
 from the sun, in eight minutes, and thirteen seconds.
 
 190 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 R. Mother, I cannot think, how quick light 
 goes. 
 
 M. That is true, my son, and we cannot think 
 how very, very small the particles of light are. If 
 they were larger than they are, they would injure 
 us very much. 
 
 R. How so, mother ? 
 
 M. If I should toss this thimble very gently 
 against your face, would it hurt you ? 
 
 R. I do not think it would ; but it would hurt 
 me a good deal, if you should throw it, as hard as 
 you could. 
 
 M. So would, even the head of a pin, if I should 
 throw it as hard as I could, into your eye ; and if 
 it was shot from a gun, it would destroy the sight 
 of your eye, and might, perhaps, kill you. Think, 
 then, how small, how very, very, very small the 
 particles of light must be, so as not to hurt the eye, 
 when they strike it, coming as quick as they do, all 
 the way, from the sun ! 
 
 If a million of the particles of light, all put together, 
 were as large as a small grain of sand, it would 
 be as dangerous to have them strike the eye, as it 
 would be to have a quantity of sand fired straight 
 into the eye from a cannon. 
 
 Now think of all these things ; how wonderfully 
 the air is made to reflect light ; and the eye, to 
 receive the light, and enable us to see. Think, too, 
 how the light itself is made, with its very small 
 particles, so as to be easily reflected by the little
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 191 
 
 particles of the air, like so many little looking- 
 glasses. Think, with what amazing quickness, 
 light comes from distant objects, so as to give us 
 the sight of them, without any pain or injury, be- 
 cause its particles are so small, that we cannot 
 think how small they are ! 
 
 What a wonderful adaptation of different things 
 to each other ! 
 
 What a wonderful effect is produced by this 
 adaptation ; our seeing and knowing, not only 
 what is near us, but objects, also, at a great dis- 
 tance. We can see the sun, which is 95,000,000 
 miles from the earth ; and we can see a fixed star, 
 (another sun, for other worlds,) which is more than 
 5,000,000,000,000 miles from the earth! 
 
 In all this, how wonderfully God shows us His 
 infinite power and wisdom ; and His great good- 
 ness, too, in doing it all, for the convenience, and 
 comfort of man ! 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 MRS. STANHOPE thought somewhat of explaining 
 to Robert, about the sun, and earth, and moon, and 
 stars, and thus showing him the wonderful power 
 of God, as well as his great wisdom and goodness, 
 in the size, and motions, of the heavenly bodies.
 
 192 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 But she thought, on the whole, that it would be 
 better to wait, till he grew a little older, when he 
 would be able to understand it much better. 
 
 She expected, too, the next day, to ride with 
 him to his aunt's, where she intended to stay two 
 or three weeks ; so she did not talk with Robert, 
 any more, at that time, about the wisdom, power, 
 and goodness of God, as shown to us, in the beings, 
 and things, which He has made, except that, in the 
 evening, just before he went to bed, she had the 
 following, short conversation with him. 
 
 MOTHER. I hope, my son, that you will remember 
 all that I have been telling you, for several days 
 past, to prove to you that there is a God, and 
 that He is a Being of infinite power, wisdom, and 
 goodness. 
 
 ROBERT. I am sure, mother, that I shall never 
 forget it. It has been, both, so entertaining, and 
 instructive, to me. 
 
 M. As you gain more knowledge, Robert, of 
 the different beings, and things, which God has 
 made, you will gain, also, more and more proofs of 
 his existence, and of his amazing power, wisdom, 
 and goodness. 
 
 You will, if you live, pursue many studies, and 
 read many books, in which not even the name of
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 193 
 
 God will be mentioned ; although these studies, 
 and these books, will be full of instances of the 
 most'wonderful design, contrivance, and skill, and 
 of the most surprising power, wisdom, and good- 
 ness, of God. 
 
 It is sad to see that it is so, and that men love so 
 little to think, and to converse, and to write, about 
 God, that great and good Being, who made us, 
 and who made so many things for our improve- 
 ment and happiness, and who wishes so much, 
 that we should all love and obey Him, and be pre- 
 pared, when we die, to go and live with Him, and 
 be happy in Heaven, for ever. 
 
 But in all your studies, and in all your reading, 
 I hope, you will mark those things very particu- 
 larly, which show you the design, contrivance, and 
 skill, the power, wisdom, and goodness, of God; 
 and stop, and think of Him, with reverence, and 
 awe ; with gratitude, and love. 
 
 Let it sink deep into your soul, and form a part of 
 your daily thoughts and feelings, how much kind- 
 ness God has shown, and is still showing you ; how 
 many sources of comfort, and of enjoyment He 
 gives you ; how it grieves Him, to see you think, or 
 feel, or act wrong ; how He loves to see you be good 
 and do good, that you may go, after death, to be 
 with Him for ever, continually to improve in 
 knowledge, in holiness, and in happiness. 
 
 Remember, too, with the liveliest feelings of
 
 194 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 
 
 thankfulness, that God has given you another and 
 a brighter light, to guide you in the way to Heaven, 
 than that which shines upon you, from th works 
 of his hand, from the beings and the things which 
 He has made. 
 
 From these you may learn his amazing power, 
 and wisdom, and goodness. But you cannot learn 
 from them, a great deal that it is very important for 
 you to know about God, and your soul, and whither 
 you will go, and what you i'+lll be and do, after death. 
 
 God has been very kind, in giving you another 
 and a brighter light, to guide you into the know- 
 ledge of these important things. 
 
 He has given you the Bible. This holy Book, which 
 good men wrote, just as God directed them to write 
 it, tells you all that it is necessary for you to know, 
 with regard to God, and your soul, and your exist- 
 ence after death. The more you study it, the wiser 
 you will grow. The more you love and obey it, 
 the better, and the happier, you will be. 
 
 While you form the habit, then, of seeing, and 
 admiring, and loving God, as you notice the work- 
 manship of his hand, in the beings, and things, 
 which He has made ; form the habit, also, of daily 
 going to your Bible, that you may be taught of 
 God, that you may hear Him, telling you, as a 
 kind Father, what you must do to gain his ever- 
 lasting friendship, and what you must not do, that 
 you may avoid the greatest of all evils, his fearful 
 displeasure.
 
 ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 195 
 
 Thus, my dear son, I earnestly pray, that you 
 may be taught of God, both from the things which 
 He has made, and from the Book which He has 
 given you, and be prepared to be useful, respectable, 
 and happy in this world, and, after death, to enjoy 
 the unspeakable bliss of that Heaven, which will 
 never, never end. Good night. 
 
 R. Good night, my dear mother ; I thank you, 
 very much, for all the good instruction, and kind 
 advice, which you have given me.
 
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