nd out what weight it would be. We know pretty near the
length that will be needed, and by weighing a piece of that already in
our hands, we can calculate for any given length."

"You forget, brother Karl, that we have no means of weighing, even the
smallest piece. We have neither beam, scales, nor weights."

"Pooh!" replied Karl, with that tone of confidence imparted by superior
knowledge. "There's no difficulty in obtaining all these. Any piece of
straight stick becomes a beam, when properly balanced; and as for
scales, they can be had as readily as a beam."

"But the weights?" interrupted Caspar. "What about them? Your beam and
scales would be useless, I apprehend, without proper weights? I think
we should be `stumped' for the want of the pounds and ounces."

"I am surprised, Caspar, you should be so unreflecting, and allow your
ingenuity to be so easily discouraged and thwarted. I believe I could
make a set of weights under any circumstances in which you might place
me--giving me only the raw material, such as a piece of timber and
plenty of stones."

"But how, brother? Pray, tell us!"

"Why, in the first place, I know the weight of my own body."

"Granted. But that is only one weight; how are you to get the
denominations--the pounds and ounces?"

"On the beam I should construct I would balance my body against a lot of
stones. I should then divide the stones into two lots, and balance
these against one another. I should thus get the half weight of my
body--a known quantity, you will recollect. By again equally dividing
one of the lots I should find a standard of smaller dimensions; and so
on, till I had got a weight as small as might be needed. By this
process I can find a pound, an ounce, or any amount required."

"Very true, brother," replied Caspar, "and very ingenious of you. No
doubt your plan would do--but for one little circumstance, which you
seem to have overlooked."

"What is that?"

"Are your data quite correct?" naively inquired Caspar.

"My data!"

"Yes--the original standard from which you propose to start, and on
which you would base your calculations. I mean the _weight of your
body_. Do you know that?"

"Certainly," said Karl; "I am just 140 pounds weight--to an ounce."

"Ah, brother," replied Caspar, with a shake of the head, expressive of
doubt, "you _were_ 140 pounds in London--I know that myself--and so was
I nearly as much; but you forget that the fret and wor