Mrs. B. Yes, my dear. You have read that part of the sacred Scriptures which contains the life of that great man, have you not?
Ferdinand. I have, mamma. When God gave him his choice of many blessings, he preferred the gift of wisdom, which was granted him; and honours and riches were also added, as a reward for his prudent choice.
Louisa. Is knowledge the same thing as wisdom, pray? [Footnote: The conversation following, was held, verbatim, between the author and a little boy seven years old.]
Ferdinand. I think not, Louisa. Wisdom is a much better thing than knowledge. Is it not, mamma:
Mrs. B. I think so my dear; but you shall hear what my favourite poet, Cowper, says upon this subject:
"Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connexion. Knowledge dwells In heads, replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom, in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude, unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smooth'd, and squar'd, and fitted to its place, Does but encumber whom it seems t'enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much; Wisdom is humble that he knows no more."
Ferdinand. I do not quite understand those lines: they say that knowledge is a mere unprofitable mass. You have told me, mamma, that I ought to take pains, and gain improvement by means of books, conversation, and observation; but if these lines are true, what good will it do me?
Mrs. B. Read the next line, my dear boy. "The mere materials with which wisdom builds." Now, if you provide no materials, you must be aware that wisdom cannot build her temple in your mind. Do you understand now the meaning of the lines?
Ferdinand, (after a pause for consideration,) Yes, mamma: and I think I understand the true meaning of the word wisdom, too. It is such power as God possesses:—a great deal of knowledge joined to a great deal of goodness.
Mrs. B. You are quite right, my dear Ferdinand. What is Emily reflecting upon so seriously?