over and Union streets.

Naturally in so large a family, where the means of support were so
slender, young Benjamin had to get most of his education outside of the
schoolroom, and something of this practical unscholastic training clung
to his mind always. Perhaps this was just as well in that age and
place, where theology and education were synonymous terms. Certainly
his consequent lack of deep root in the past and his impressionability,
though limitations to his genius, make him the more typical of American
intelligence. At the age of eight he was sent to the grammar school,
where he remained less than a year, and then passed under the charge of
Mr. George Brownell, a teacher of the three R's. Benjamin had learned
to read so young that he himself could not remember being unable to
read, and at school he did notably well. It is curious, however, that
he found difficulty with his arithmetic, and was never a mathematician,
though later in life he became skillful in dealing with figures. No
error could be greater than Carlyle's statement that ability in
mathematics is a test of intelligence. Goethe, scientist as well as
poet, could never learn algebra; and Faraday, the creator of electrical
science, knew no mathematics at all.

When ten years old the lad was taken from school and set to work under
his father. But his education was by no means ended. There is a
temptation to dwell on these early formative years because he himself
was so fond of deducing lessons from the little occurrences of his
boyhood; nor do I know any life that shows a more consistent
development from beginning to end. There is, too, a peculiar charm in
hearing the world-famous philosopher discourse on these petty
happenings of childhood and draw from them his wise experience of life.
So, for instance, at sixty-six years of age he writes to a friend in
Paris the story of "The Whistle." One day when he was seven years old
his pocket was filled with coppers, and he immediately started for the
shop to buy toys. On the way he met a boy with a whistle, and was so
charmed with the sound of it that he gave all his money for one. Of
course his kind brothers and sisters laughed at him for his extravagant
bargain, and his chagrin was so great that he adopted as one of his
maxims of life, "Don't give too much for the whistle." As he grew up,
came into the world, and observed the actions of men, he thought he met
with many, very many, who gave too much for the wh