DICK'S MISHAP.
Messrs. Arithmetic and Mathematics were large manufacturers of ironware
and machinery of every kind, of which they kept an immense assortment
continually upon sale in a shop attached to the premises. They were said
to be near connections as well as partners in business. Mr. Arithmetic
had the name of a hard man, who looked sharply after every farthing,
though not quite so hard perhaps as his partner Mr. Mathematics. And yet
his workmen, who were all called _ciphers_, One, Two, Three, Four, Five,
Six, Seven, Eight and Nine, never complained of their master. They said
that they always received their just due, and as long as they kept in
their own proper place, had never any reason to grumble.
Mr. Mathematics was a great philosopher, and shut himself up a good
deal, that he might have leisure to invent new and curious machines. He
did not show himself to customers so often as Mr. Arithmetic, who was
the soul of the business, keeping all the workmen in order, scarcely
ever out of his shop, and ready to serve all the world.
The Ironmongery establishment was on the top of a steep cliff that rose
on the right side of the town of Education, just beyond Mr. Reading's
large shop; and thither, on that fine summer's day, Dick and Pride
wended their way.
"We must go up here," observed Dick, as they reached a narrow staircase
cut in the cliff, and known by the name of the Multiplication stairs. I
should not wonder if my readers had run up it many a time; if so, I need
not tell them that it consists of twelve flights of steps, with twelve
steps in every flight; that the first and second are so easy that a baby
might almost toddle up them; that the two next are rather more steep,
while the fifth is easier again; that the seventh and eighth are perhaps
the worst; while the tenth flight quite tempts one to run, it is so
delightfully smooth!
Dick was so active and vigorous a boy, that he mounted up to the top
without even stopping to take breath. He had thence a fine view of the
distant landscape; but what interested him most was to look down on the
town which lay at his feet, and see the gilded names of the different
Ologies shining on the fronts of their dwellings. There was Chemistry's
beautiful shop too in view, with lovely-coloured glass jars in its
windows; and Botany's vast garden not far off, bright with the hues of a
thousand flowers. A fine place to look at, and a good place to dwell in,
is this town of Education.
An immense building was now before Dick, though rather dull and
unattractive in appearance; the names of Messrs. Arithmetic and
Mathematics were in large black letters over the door. Dick entered,
followed by Pride, and viewed with astonishment the vast variety of iron
utensils around him. He could scarcely stop to look at the simple
grates, called sums, which were the things that he came for, his eye was
attracted by so many articles more curious and more interesting. There
were big rules of-three kettles, simple, inverse, and compound;
reduction grinding-machines, and tables of weights of every species and
size. There were innumerable instruments of various kinds that were
known by the name of fractions; Dick did not exactly know their use, but
they looked like instruments of torture. In an inner compartment of the
place great machines were fizzing and whizzing, pistons rising and
falling, wheels rolling and rumbling; that part belonged especially to
Mr. Mathematics, and many of his partner's customers never entered that
wing of the building.
"What do you require here?" said Mr. Arithmetic, a man dressed in
iron-gray clothes, with a face which looked dry and hard as one of his
own kettles, above which was a shock of iron-gray hair, which gave him
rather a formidable appearance.
"I want to buy four little grates, to put in my house," said Dick,
standing with his hand on his hip, and speaking in an easy tone, to show
that he was not afraid of Mr. Arithmetic.
"I understand: my four first sums--Addition, Multiplication, Division,
and Subtraction;" and the learned ironmonger pointed to a pile of some
hundreds of the articles required by Dick.
"They are such simple, light little things," observed the boy, "that
I'll carry off a couple with ease."
"As far as mere weight goes," said Pride, "you might bear away all four
at once; but they are rather awkward to hold, and, if I understood you
aright, you are obliged to carry all your purchases yourself."
"Ay," observed Mr. Arithmetic with a grim smile, "when the Prince of
Wales himself came to shop in our town, he was obliged to be his own
porter. Governesses and tutors may pack up the loads, but the pupils
have the carrying after all."
"I certainly could manage two grates at once," observed Dick.
"I would advise you to be content with one at a time," said Arithmetic,
"and come for the second to-morrow."
"Pick me out four good ones, not too small," cried Dick, trying to speak
with an air of command; "I'll walk in further with my comrade, and have
a look at yonder machines."
"Don't go too near those in work," said Mr. Arithmetic to Dick; "little
boys may get into trouble if they meddle with things that they don't
understand."
"Perhaps I can understand rather more than he supposes," muttered Dick,
walking with head erect, and nose in the air, and a sort of swaggering
step, which he probably thought best suited for a genius.
He passed on between rows of strange machines, whose use he could
scarcely guess at; but he was ashamed to show any ignorance while Pride
was close at his side. At last Dick stopped before a turning-lathe,
which had been made by a man called Euclid, and watched with interest
and surprise all the curious articles called problems, which a clever
workman was every few minutes forming with the circular saw.
"That does not look such hard work after all," said Dick; "the man has
only to hold up the wood to that curious whirling machine, and it cuts
it right into shape in a second. I think that I could do that myself."
"I should not advise you to try," said the workman, as he stopped his
lathe for a short time, to go and look for a piece of hard wood. Pride
glanced meaningly at Dick, and the boy's foot was in a minute on the
board whose motion turned the circular saw.
"Give me that problem, I'll show you what I can do!" cried the eager
Dick to his prompter; the next sound that he uttered was a yell, as the
saw cut one of his fingers almost to the bone!
The cry drew Mr. Arithmetic to the spot. "Is the hand off?" was his cold
hard question.
Poor Dick held up his bleeding finger.
"You've got your lesson cheaply," said the iron-gray man; "you had
better know your own powers a little better before you meddle with
matters like this. Wrap up your finger in your handkerchief, take up
your grate, and be gone."
Much mortified by his morning's adventure, poor Dick in silence obeyed,
not making an attempt to burden himself then with anything but a simple
sum of Addition. It would have been well indeed for the boy if the
experience of that day had cured him of his foolish presumption, and
made him give up the company of Pride.