been to the Grecian king, who, as the Arabian tale relates, imbibed fresh poison as he turned over each leaf, until he fell lifeless in the presence of his courtiers; or, to give another illustration, as mischievous as the magic volume of Michael Scott, which, as Dempster informs us, could not be opened without the danger of invoking some malignant fiend by the operation. How infinitely superior in execution and purpose are the juvenile works of the present century!--to borrow a metaphor from Coleridge, they may be truly said to resemble a collection of mirrors set in the same frame, each having its own focus of knowledge, yet all capable of converging to one point. Allow me, friendly Reader, before I conclude my address, to say a few words upon the plan and execution of the work before you. It is not intended to supersede or clash with any of the elementary treatises to which I have alluded; indeed its plan is so peculiar, that I apprehend such a charge cannot be brought against it. The author originally composed it for the exclusive use of his children, and would certainly never have consigned it to the press, but at the earnest solicitations of those friends upon whose judgment he places the utmost reliance. Let this be received as an answer to those, who, believing that they can recognise the writer, may be induced to exclaim with Menedemus in Terence,--“_Tantumne est ab re tuâ otii tibi aliena ut cures, eaque nihil quæ ad te attinent?_” [1] It is scarcely necessary to offer any apology for the conversational plan of instruction; the success of Mrs. Marcet’s dialogues has placed its value beyond dispute. It may, however, be observed, that this species of composition may be executed in two different ways, either as direct conversation, where none but the speakers appear, which is the method used by Plato; or as the recital of a conversation, where the author himself appears, and gives an account of what passed in discourse, which is the plan generally adopted by Cicero. The reader is aware, that Mrs. Marcet, in her “Conversations on Philosophy,” has adopted the former, while Miss Edgeworth, in her “Harry and Lucy,” has preferred the latter method. In composing the present work I have followed the plan of the last-mentioned authoress. Its advantages over the more direct conversational style appear to consist in allowing occasional remarks, which come more aptly from the author than from any of the characters engaged in the dialogue.