"We have but three professions, besides the ragans and soldiery, amongst us, and these are cooks, house-makers, and pike-makers, of which every colamb has several among his lasks; and these, upon the new regulations, will be the only gainers, as they may work where they please, and according to their skill will be their provision; but how the poor labourers will be the better for it, I cannot see." "Dear sir," says I, "there are, you see, amongst lasks, some of such parts, that it is great pity they should be confined from showing them; and my meaning in giving liberty is in order for what is to follow; that is, for the introduction of arts amongst you. Now, every man who has natural parts will exert them when any art is laid before him; and he will find so much delight in making new discoveries that, did no profit attend it, the satisfaction of the discovery to a prying genius would compensate the pains; but I propose a profit also to the artificer."--"Why, what profit," says my father, "can arise but food, and perhaps a servant of their own to provide it for them?" "Sir," says I, "the man who has nothing to hope loses the use of one of his faculties; and if I guess right, and you live ten years longer, you shall see this State as much altered as the difference has been between a lask and a tree he feeds on. You shall all be possessed of that which will bring you fruits from the woods without a lask to fetch it. Those who were before your slaves shall then take it as an honour to be employed by you, and at the same time shall employ others dependent on them; so as the great and small shall be under mutual obligations to each other, and both to the truly industrious artificer; and yet every one content only with what he merits." "Dear son," says my father, "these will be glorious days indeed! But, come, come, you have played a good part already; don't, by attempting what you can't master, eclipse the glory so justly due to you."--"No, sir," says I, "nothing shall be attempted by me to my dishonour; for I shall ever remember my friend Glanepze. Sir," says I, "see here." (showing him my watch).--"Why, this," says he, "hung by my daughter's side at Graundevolet."--"It did so," says I; "and, pray, what did you take it for?"--"A bott," says he.--"I thought so," says I; "but as you asked no questions, I did not then force the knowledge of it upon you. But put it to your ear."--He did so. "What noise is that?" says he. "Is it alive?"--"No," says I, "it is not; but it is as significant. If I ask it what time of the day it is, or how long I have been going from this place to that, I look but in its face, and it tells me presently."