Henry. Yes, Papa; this waterman: we pay him for moving us along upon the water by the strength of his arms: I do not suppose that much skill is required to be a waterman.
Father. No; what is most needful to the waterman, in addition to his strength, is dexterity.
Sam. What is dexterity, Papa?
Father. Dexterity is the habit a man acquires, by use, of performing any particular action in the best way, with the least trouble or effort. Think now, if you can, of a man whose business it is to exercise strength, without even having need of dexterity.
Henry considered for some time, and then replied,—“The man who turned the winder of the crane, to raise the hogshead into the warehouse: he had nothing to do but to move his arms round and round.”
Sam. Or a porter, who carries parcels.
Father. Yes: and you may observe, even in their looks, the difference between those who have need of some dexterity in employing their strength, and those who have no need of it. The man who employs his strength with dexterity, looks briskly about him; often closes his lips firmly; holds his head erect; and appears as if he felt some satisfaction in his employment. But the man who merely exerts strength, looks on the ground; breaths chiefly through his mouth; moves stifly; and appears either ferocious, sullen, or stupid; unless he follows also some other occupation which exercises his mind.
By this time the boat had reached the foot of Blackfriar’s Bridge, where they left it. In Bridge Street they took a coach: when they were well seated, the conversation was continued.
Father. Now let us compare the coachman’s occupation with that of the waterman: What has he need of?
John. The horses draw the coach; so he does not want strength; he only sits still on the box.