were not ignorant what way their true interest pointed, but each of them 
had the evils of war before his eyes; for their Phocian wounds were still 
fresh upon them. However, the powers of the orator, as Theopompus 
tells us, rekindled their courage and ambition so effectually that all 
other objects were disregarded. They lost sight of fear, of caution, of 
every prior attachment, and, through the force of his eloquence, fell
with enthusiastic transports into the path of honour. 
So powerful, indeed, were the efforts of the orator that Philip 
immediately sent ambassadors to Athens to apply for peace. Greece 
recovered her spirits, whilst she stood waiting for the event; and not 
only the Athenian generals, but the governors of Boeotia, were ready to 
execute the commands of Demosthenes. All the assemblies, as well 
those of Thebes as those of Athens, were under his direction: he was 
equally beloved, equally powerful, in both places; and, as Theopompus 
shows, it was no more than his merit claimed. But the superior power 
of fortune, which seems to have been working at revolution, and 
drawing the liberties of Greece to a period at that time, opposed and 
baffled all the measures that could be taken. The deity discovered many 
tokens of the approaching event. 
 
ELIHU BURRITT 
(1810-1879) 
"THE LEARNED BLACKSMITH" 
This man's career is the star example of the pursuit of knowledge under 
difficulties. For years, while earning his living at the forge, he denied 
himself all natural pleasures that he might devote every possible minute 
to cramming his head with seemingly useless scraps of knowledge. 
The acquisition of knowledge merely for its own sake is of course 
foolishness, but it is a very rare kind of foolishness. Nearly always the 
learned man pays his debt to society in full measure, if we but give him 
time enough. So it was with "The Learned Blacksmith." From his deep 
learning, Elihu Burritt at last drew the inspiration which made him a 
powerful advocate in the cause of the world's peace. 
From "Captains of Industry," by James Parton. Houghton, Mifflin & 
Co., 1884. 
Elihu Burritt, with whom we have all been familiar for many years as
the Learned Blacksmith, was born in 1810 at the beautiful town of New 
Britain, in Connecticut, about ten miles from Hartford. He was the 
youngest son in an old-fashioned family of ten children. His father 
owned and cultivated a small farm, but spent the winters at the 
shoemaker's bench, according to the rational custom of Connecticut in 
that day. When Elihu was sixteen years of age his father died, and the 
lad soon after apprenticed himself to a blacksmith in his native village. 
He was an ardent reader of books from childhood up, and he was 
enabled to gratify this taste by means of a very small village library, 
which contained several books of history, of which he was naturally 
fond. This boy, however, was a shy, devoted student, brave to maintain 
what he thought right, but so bashful that he was known to hide in the 
cellar when his parents were going to have company. 
As his father's long sickness had kept him out of school for some time, 
he was the more earnest to learn during his apprenticeship--particularly 
mathematics, since he desired to become, among other things, a good 
surveyor. He was obliged to work from ten to twelve hours a day at the 
forge, but while he was blowing the bellows he employed his mind in 
doing sums in his head. His biographer gives a specimen of these 
calculations which he wrought out without making a single figure: 
"How many yards of cloth, three feet in width, cut into strips an inch 
wide, and allowing half an inch at each end for the lap, would it require 
to reach from the centre of the earth to the surface, and how much 
would it all cost at a shilling a yard?" 
He would go home at night with several of these sums done in his head, 
and report the results to an elder brother, who had worked his way 
through Williams College. His brother would perform the calculations 
upon a slate, and usually found his answers correct. 
When he was about half through his apprenticeship he suddenly took it 
into his head to learn Latin, and began at once through the assistance of 
the same elder brother. In the evenings of one winter he read the 
Aeneid of Virgil; and, after going on for a while with Cicero and a few 
other Latin authors, he began Greek. During the winter months he was
obliged to spend every hour of daylight at the forge, and even in the 
summer his leisure minutes were few and far between. But he carried 
his Greek grammar in his hat, and often found    
    
		
	
	
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