was one day reading in his hall, when a wheelwright who was working below,
- Below the covered dais, termed "hall," which has an open frontage, in full view of which such work might be carried on.
flung down his hammer and chisel, and mounting the steps said, "What words may your Highness be studying?"
"I am studying the words of the Sages," replied the Duke.
"Are the Sages alive?" asked the wheelwright.
"No," answered the Duke; "they are dead."
"Then the words your Highness is studying," rejoined the wheelwright, "are only the dregs of the ancients."
"What do you mean, sirrah!" cried the Duke, "by interfering with what I read? Explain yourself, or you shall die."
"Let me take an illustration," said the wheelwright, "from my own trade. In making a wheel, if you work too slowly, you can't make it firm; if you work too fast, the spokes won't fit in. You must go neither too slowly nor too fast. There must be co-ordination of mind and hand. Words cannot explain what it is, but there is some mysterious art herein. I cannot teach it to my son; nor can he learn it from me. Consequently, though seventy years of age, I am still making wheels in my old age. If the ancients, together with what they could not impart, are dead and
