nd girls who can subtract
can tell just his age. One of the books he has written tells about
England, another about such famous men as Shakspeare and Napoleon, and
others talk about wealth and friendship, prudence and power.

That does not sound as if he meant them for you? Well, one thing he did
mean for you, and that is a dear little poem--"The Squirrel and the
Mountain." Every one of you will want to read it, and when you have
read it you will want to learn it, and when you have learned you will
want to speak it. I need not have told you he meant that poem for you;
you would know that the minute you saw it. But you could not tell so
soon how many things he says for you in those famous essays so often
quoted. What do you think I can find for you in this dry-looking book,
"Conduct of Life," with "Emerson" printed just under the title?

Did you ever see an old hen with her little walking bundles of feathers
in the soft garden soil? How she does scratch and bustle for something
to eat! Why, she is eating every bit herself! Perhaps she thinks that
taking care of the chickens' mother is very important work for her; but
by-and-by she will call the little folks to share what she has found.

You may think of me as of an old hen who has long been scratching in
the soft garden soil of Ralph Waldo Emerson's writings. She has found
much for herself, with now and then a bit for the chickens.

Here, the very first thing, is something about eggs. "There is always a
best way of doing everything, if it be but to boil an egg." I hope my
little friends are never cross when Bridget has not boiled the nice
breakfast egg in the best way. More than that; I hope they themselves
know what is the best way of doing it; just how hot the water must be,
how long the egg should boil to make it hard or soft, and, what is well
worth knowing, how to get it in and out of the hot water without
breaking the shell.

Here is another bit. It is like an egg, for the meaning is wrapt in
words just as an egg hides in the shell. "The tell-tale body is all
tongues." What does the tongue help to do? Will no one know that you
are cross unless you say, "I am cross this morning?" Can I find it out
although you do not say a word? Yes, indeed; that puckered mouth and
ugly little scowl tell, all too quickly, and even if I could not see
your face, that little jerk and twist would tell the story. Do you not
know when the dog is sick or tired, or full of fun? yet, his