One great element in the success which these little books have met, the one fact which, we are persuaded, accounts for the quiet, but significant "twenty-sixth thousand" that we find on the title-page of one of them, is the pains which their authors take to make their meaning clear. They do not, like too many of our modern authors, leave a book half written, forcing the reader to finish their work as he goes along. They are instant, in season and out of season, with explanation, illustration, reflection, until the idea is, so to speak, reduced to pulp, and the reader has nothing to perform save the act of deglutition. "When he ['Nat'] was only four years old, and was learning to read little words of two letters, he came across one about which he had quite a dispute with his teacher. It was INN. "'What is that?' asked his teacher. "'I-double n,' he answered. "'What does i-double n spell?' "'Tavern,' was his quick reply. "The teacher smiled, and said, 'No; it spells INN. Now read it again.' "'I-double n--tavern,' said he. "'I told you that it did not spell tavern, it spells INN. Now pronounce it correctly.' "'It _do_ spell tavern,' said he. "The teacher was finally obliged to give it up, and let him enjoy his own opinion. She probably called him obstinate, although there was nothing of the kind about him, as we shall see. His mother took up the matter at home, but failed to convince him that i-double n did not spell tavern. It was not until some time after that he changed his opinion on this important subject.