s nothing too bad for him to
do."
"And they think about right, too," added Nat. "I never saw a fellow who
seemed to enjoy doing mischief like him. But how is it with Ben? I used
to think he would do better if Sam would let him alone."
"People generally are of the same opinion. Ben is no worse than he was
when he went to school, though he has frequently been in miserable
scrapes with Sam. I guess they will end about alike. But I want to talk
more about your grammar. Do you really expect to master grammar without
a teacher?"
"Of course I do, or I should not undertake it. We conquered worse
difficulties in mathematics than I have yet found in grammar."
"But how can you have patience to pursue such a dry study alone?"
"It is not dry now. It was dry to us that winter because we did not want
to know any thing about it. Any book will be dry when we don't care to
read it. I have found that no study is dry which I really want to know
about. I like grammar first-rate now."
"Then you think that _we_ were dry, and not the grammar?" inquired
Charlie.
"Certainly; and you will find it so, if you will try it. When a person
really wants to comprehend any subject, he will be interested in it, and
he will quite readily master it."
"I shall not dispute your position," said Charlie. "But when you have a
good grammar lesson you may recite it to me. I think you will make a
good grammarian after all--you certainly will if a good resolution will
accomplish it."
"I do not expect to distinguish myself in this branch of knowledge,"
replied Nat. "But I am determined to know something about it. A person
need not learn every thing there is to be known about a study to make it
profitable to him."
Nat was accustomed, at this period of his life, to carry some book with
him for use every spare moment he found. He had a literary pocket into
which volume after volume found its way, to remain until its contents
were digested. The grammar had its turn in this convenient pocket, and
every day was compelled to disclose some of its hidden knowledge.
Pockets have been of great service to self-made men. A more useful
invention was never known, and hundreds are now living who will have
occasion to speak well of pockets till they die, because they were so
handy to carry a book. Roger Sherman had one when he was a hard-working
shoemaker in Stoughton, Mass. Into it he stuffed geography, history,
biography, logic, mathematics, and theology, in t
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