“Zaccheus he Did climb a tree, His Lord to see!” The mother, who was a kindly but dull woman, took little interest in their childish scrambling after literature; but she sent them to the town-school, for the sake of having them out of the way; and she was somewhat proud that her children could “read joining-hand,” as she called it, earlier than neighbours of the same age. One day, when the minister of the village called, she told John to bring his book about Manners and Customs, and let the minister hear how well they could read. The good old man was much pleased with the bright boy and his intelligent, motherly sister. When their mother told him the story of the eggs, he patted them on the head and said: “That’s right, my children. You can’t be too fond of your books. They are the best friends in the world. If you ask them, they will tell you about every thing!” This remark, uttered in a very serious tone, made a deep impression. That evening, as brother and sister sat on the door-step, eating their supper of bread and milk, the sun set bright and clear after a transient shower, and a beautiful rainbow arched the entire heavens. “Oh, Esther, look at that pretty rainbow!” exclaimed John. “Ah, see! see! now there are two of ’em!” He gazed at the beautiful phenomenon with all his soul in his eyes, and added: “As soon as we have eggs enough, we will get Mr. Brown to buy a book that tells how rainbows are made, and where they come from.” Esther replied, that she did wish the hens would lay three eggs a day. When the market-man was commissioned to purchase another volume, he declared himself unable to find one that told where rainbows came from. In lieu thereof, he brought Bruce’s Travels; and an unfailing source of entertainment it proved. Thus month by month their little library increased, and their intellectual craving grew fast by the food it fed on. They gathered berries, picked chips, ran on errands, rose early, and worked late, to accumulate sixpences. When this is done merely to obtain animal indulgences, or for the sake of possessing more than others, there is something degrading in the servile process; but when the object is pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, all creeping things become winged. Beautiful it is to see human souls thus struggling with poverty and toil, sustained only by those ministering angels, Hope and Faith! Those who have life enough to struggle thus, are all the stronger for the contest. For the vigorous intellect it is better to be so placed than to be born in palaces. Jean Paul says truly: “Wealth bears far heavier on talent than poverty. Under gold mountains and thrones, who knows how many a spiritual giant may lie crushed down and buried?”