away, by looking at him, than others found
out by talking with him."

It was true that Nat was thus accustomed to observe and inquire into the
_whys_ and _wherefores_ of things. For this reason he was never
satisfied with a lesson until he understood it, unless we except the
study of grammar. He formed his opinions of all his associates, and knew
one to be selfish, another to be ill-tempered, another generous, and so
on. He was probably attracted by Patrick Henry's study of men, on
account of this disposition in himself, although he was not altogether
conscious of it. But this quality enabled him to learn much that
otherwise he would not have known. For when he was not reading a book,
men, women, and children were around him, and many events were
transpiring, all of which he could study. Thus he found teachers
everywhere, and books everywhere, not indeed such books as are used in
schools or fill the shelves of libraries, but such as are furnished in
the shape of incidents, and such as are bound up in flesh and bones. He
could read the latter while he was carrying bobbins in the factory, and
walking the streets, or going to meeting. In this way he would be
learning, learning, learning, when other boys were making no progress at
all.

Shakspeare, the world's great dramatist, must have been indebted to this
faculty of observation, far more than to books and human teachers, for
his inimitable power of delineating human nature. He was the son of a
poor man, who could not read nor write, according to reports, and he
went to London to live, where he held horses for gentlemen who visited
the theatre, receiving small remuneration for his labor. From holding
horses outside, he came to be a waiter upon the actors within, where he
must have been a very close observer of what was said and done; for his
brilliant career began from that hour, and he went on from step to step
until he produced the most masterly dramatic works, such as the world
will not let die. There is no doubt that he was a born poet, but it was
his faculty to read men and things that at last waked the dormant powers
of the poet into life. He saw, investigated, understood, mastered, and
finally applied every particle of information acquired to the work that
won him immortal fame.

"Nat, you are the best penman in the mill," said Dr. Holt to him one
day, as his attention was called to a specimen of his handwriting.
"Where did you learn to write so well?"

"At s