The sailor, the mechanic, and the good pioneer women, these are the heroes and heroines gratefully remembered now. They regulated civilization; they stood together against the gold-maddened floating miners; they fought the vicious camp-followers.

Neither Harry nor I was a mechanic; but in the Western Dominion the man without money must turn his hand to many trades, and we had learned a good deal, railroad building. Neither need it interfere too much with the farming, for we could hire assistants, even if we brought them from Ontario; and here was another opening to increase our revenue.

The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had blocked them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and the same able mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new posts. The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted twice within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the work in his spare time.

It is, indeed, hardly less important for the man of business, the farmer, or the mechanic, than for statesmen, legislators, and members of the so-called learned professions. An intelligent farmer of my acquaintance having a piece of greensward to break up, and having three work-horses, determined to employ them all.

But when both have been fairly invented, and are well understood, to explain to any young man, in the completest manner, how to apply the instruments, and how to construct the machines, cannot well require more than the lessons of a few weeks; perhaps those of a few days might be sufficient. In the common mechanic trades, those of a few days might certainly be sufficient.

But the followers of the new philosophy, proposing to themselves the discovery of useful truth as their object, must have altogether failed of attaining that object if they had been content to build theories on superficial induction. Why was this? Evidently because the mechanic was not content with so careless a mode of induction as served the purpose of the philosopher.

The preacher, himself, received the suggestion with approval. Usually for the craft, though, sturdy, was a small one he was his own steersman and engineer. Now, he could enjoy the luxury of a crew, and the driver, who was a fairly good mechanic, was quite competent to handle the small two-cylinder engine. So far as the boy was concerned, he had another reason. The quest might be dangerous.

The mud breastworks had long been leveled with the earth, and their site converted into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the battery, where the gay apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and the laborious mechanic, relieved from the dirt and drudgery of the week, poured his weekly tale of love into the half averted ear of the sentimental chambermaid.

Lynn with dark circles under her eyes had wakened early and slipped down to the kitchen to help her mother and the little maid of all work who lived down the street and was a member of the Sunday School and an important part of the family. It was Naomi who discovered the young mechanic at the front door. There was not much that Naomi did not see.

Harry Carson, who had sighed, and sworn and protested all manner of tender vows. Mr. Harry Carson was the son and the idol of old Mr. Carson, the wealthy mill-owner. Jem Wilson, her old playmate, and the son of her father's, closest friend, although he had earned a position of trust at the foundry where he worked, was but a mechanic after all!