urn, so that he
actually carried more science than change. Napoleon had one, in which he
carried the Iliad when he wrote to his mother, "With my sword by my
side, and Homer in my pocket, I hope to carve my way through the world."
Hugh Miller had one from which he often drew a profitable work as he
was sitting on a stone for a few moments' rest from his hard toils.
Elihu Burritt had one from the time he began to read in the old
blacksmith shop until he acquired a literary fame, and on "a grand scale
set to working out his destiny at the flaming forge of life." In writing
to a friend, he said, "Those who have been acquainted with my character
from my youth up, will give me credit for sincerity when I say, that it
never entered into my head to blazon forth any acquisition of my own.
All that I have accomplished, or expect, or hope to accomplish, has
been, and will be, by that plodding, patient, persevering process of
accretion which builds the ant-heap,--particle by particle, thought by
thought, fact by fact. And if ever I was actuated by ambition, its
highest and warmest aspiration reached no further than the hope to set
before the young men of my country an example in employing those
invaluable fragments of time, called 'odd moments.'" He was once an
agent for a manufacturing company in Connecticut, and his pocket served
him a noble purpose, for it furnished him with a valuable work often, in
unfrequented spots, where he would let his horse rest, and spend a few
moments in studying by the road-side. The horse soon learned to
appreciate the wants of his driver, and would voluntarily stop in
certain lonely retreats for him to pursue his studies. Thus pockets that
have carried the leanest purses, have often proved the greatest blessing
to mankind.

But how many youth there are, having much leisure time every day, who
carry nothing better than a knife, purse, and sometimes a piece of
filthy tobacco, in their pockets! It would be infinitely better for them
to put a good book there, to occupy their attention whenever a spare
moment is offered. If only a single hour in a day could be saved from
absolute waste by such reliance on the pocket, this would be sufficient
to secure a large amount of information in a series of years. The
working-days of the week would yield, in this way, six precious hours,
equal to one day's schooling in a week, and fifty-two days, or ten weeks
of schooling in a year. Is not this worth saving? Multipl