nity were afforded him for the exercise of his
talents.

At Market Drayton he amused himself by organizing a band of idle scamps,
who went about threatening to smash the windows of tradespeople unless
they paid a fine of apples or pence; and on one occasion he alarmed the
inhabitants of the town by climbing a church steeple and seating himself
upon a stone spout near the top.

A man of the same stamp who received the scantiest education was George
Washington. He is described as having been given a common-school
education, with a little mathematical training, but no instruction
whatever in ancient or modern languages.

Christopher Columbus, another adventurous spirit, owed very little to
his schooling. 'He soon evinced a strong passion for geographical
knowledge,' writes Washington Irving in his interesting Life of the
explorer, 'and an irresistible inclination for the sea.... His father,
seeing the bent of his mind, endeavoured to give him an education
suitable for maritime life. He sent him, therefore, to the university of
Pavia, where he was instructed in geometry, geography, astronomy and
navigation.... He remained but a short time at Pavia, barely sufficient
to give him the rudiments of the necessary sciences; the thorough
acquaintance with them which he displayed in after-life must have been
the result of diligent self-schooling, and of casual hours of study
amidst the cares and vicissitudes of a rugged and wandering life.'

No better instance of the advantage of natural development and
self-culture could be afforded than by the career of Dr. Livingstone.
Working in a cotton factory as a boy of ten, he studied scientific works
and books of travel, besides the classics, not only at night, but during
the hours of labour.

'Looking back now at that life of toil,' he wrote afterwards, 'I cannot
but feel thankful that it formed such a material part of my early
education; and, were it possible, I should like to begin life over again
in the same lowly style, and to pass through the same hardy training.'

Dr. Adam Clarke, the celebrated divine, scholar, and philanthropist, was
a regular dunce in his early youth. It was only with difficulty, and an
undue proportion of whacking, that the elements of the alphabet were
driven into his head by an impatient teacher--a mode of instruction that
probably caused him to remark, in after life, that 'many children, not
naturally dull, have become so under the influence of the sch