• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Title Page
 Foreword
 Main
 The flies and the ants
 The Gentleman and the Basket-M...
 The history of Jowler and...
 Androcles and the lion
 The story of Cyrus
 The two brothers
 The good-natured little boy
 The ill-natured boy
 The story of the Grateful Turk
 Continuation of the history of...
 History of a surprising cure of...














Title: history of Sandford and Merton
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Title: history of Sandford and Merton
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Creator: Day, Thomas,
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Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Page 1
    Foreword
        Page 2
    Main
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    The flies and the ants
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17-18
        Page 19
    The Gentleman and the Basket-Maker
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
    The history of Jowler and Keeper
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    Androcles and the lion
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The story of Cyrus
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The two brothers
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
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        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    The good-natured little boy
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    The ill-natured boy
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    The story of the Grateful Turk
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
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        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
    Continuation of the history of the grateful Turk
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 140a
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
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        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
    History of a surprising cure of the Gout
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
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Full Text


THE HISTORY

or


SANDFORD AND MERTON.


BY THOMAS DAY.


NEW EDITION.
WITH ALTERATIONS AND AMENDMINTI
BY THOMAS TELLER.


Itsutrtta Mt) auatitafl fWaifi|s.)



NEW HAVEN:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BT & BABIOCO
1850.












TO MY YOUNG READERS.



Tanr popular and interesting history of SAiNDWoRD AND Nao ha
been a general favorite with youthful reader fbr a great number of
year. Even as many summers and winter ago as when I myself was
a laughter-loving school-boy, this amusing tory had greater charm for
m and many of my companions, than even the play-round.
It not only an interesting book, but it is alo an instrect one.
It onmains a great deal of good onad msnse, and moral troth. For
lb reason, more than any other, our publisher ha added it to the
log it of children's books which he is constantly priting. I hope
ye w all And it as interesting a I did in my younger days, and as
itluetive the author of it intended it bsould be. I hall then be
weB repaid hr the labor I have qpent in reviing it, and making sme
Srremmthom and akeratiom foo the original wu.

Tb.OMA TELL.
brrl j&g, MSU.










THE HISTORY

OF

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



SIn the western part of England there lived a gentleman of
geat fortune, whose name was Merton. He had a large estate
in the Island of Jamaica, where he had passed the greater
part of his life, and was master of many servants, who culti-
vated sugar and other valuable things for his advantage. He
had only one son, of whom he was excessively fond; and to
educate this child properly, was the reason of his determining
to stay some years in England.
Tommy Merton, who, at the time he came from Jamaic,
was only six years old, was naturally a very good-natured boy,
but unfortunately had been spoiled by too much indulgebd
While he lived in Jamaica, he had several black servants to
wait upon him.L ho were forbidden upon any account to co u
tradict him walked there always went two negroes
with him; one of whom carried a large umbrella to keep the
sun from him, and the other was to carry him in his arms
whenever he was tired. Besides this, he was dressed in silk
or laced clothes, and had a fine gilded carriage, which was
borne upon men's shoulders, in which he iade visits to his





4 BANDFORD AND MERTON.

play-fellows. His mother was so excessively fond of him,
that she gave him everything he cried for. and would never
let him learn to read because he complained that it made his
head ache.
The consequence of this was, that though Master Merton
had every thing he wanted, he became very fretful and un-
happy. Sometimes he ate sweetmeats till he made himself
sick, and then he suffered a great deal of pain, because he
would not take bitter physic to make him well. Sometimes
he cried for things that it was impossible to give him. and.then,
as he had never been used to being contradicted, it was many
hours before he could be pacified. When any company came
to dine at the house, he was always to be helped first, and to
have the most delicate parts of the meat, otherwise he would
make suchra noise as disturbed the whole company. When
his father and mother were sitting at the tea table with their
friends, instead of waiting till they were at leisure to attend
him, he would scramble upon the table, seize the cake and
bread and butter, and frequently overset the tea-cups. By
these pranks he not only made himself disagreeable to every-
body else, but often met with very dangerous accidents. Fre-
quently did he cut himself with knives, at other times throw
heavy things upon his head, and once he narrowly escaped
being scalded to death by a kettle of boiling water. He was
also so delicately brought up, that he was perpetually ill; the
least wind or 'ain gave him a cold, and the least sun was sure
to throw him into a fever. Instead of playing'about, and
jumping, and running, like other children, he was taught to
sit still for fear of spoiling his clothes, and to stay in the house
for fear of injuring his complexion. By this kind of educa-
tion, when Master Merton came over to England, he could
neither write, nor read, nor cypher; he could use none of his






SANDFORD AND MERTON.

limbs with ease nor bear any degree of fatigue; but he was
very proud fretful and impatient.
Very near to Mr. Merton's seat lived a plain honest farmer,
whose name was Sandford. This man had like Mr. Merton,
an only son 'not much older than Master Merton, whose name
was Harry. Harry as he had been always accustomed to
run about in the fields to follow the laborers while they were
ploughing, and to drive the sheep to their pasture was active,
strong. hardy and fresh colored He-was neither so fair nor
deliea'ely shaped as Master Merton; but he had an honest
goo] natured countenance which made everybody love him;
was never out of humor and took the greatest pleasure in
obliging everybody. If little Harry saw a poor wretch who
wanted victuals while he was eating his dinner he was sure
to give him half and sometimes the whole nay so very good-
natured was he to everything, that he would never go into the
fields to take the eggs of poor birds or'their young ones nor
practise any other kind of sport that gave pain to poor animals,
who are as capable of feeling as we ourselves though they
have no words to express their sufferings. Once. indeed,
Harry was caught twirling a cockchafer round which he had
fastened by a crooked pin to a long piece of thread: but then
this was through ignorance and want of thought: for as soon
as his father told him that the poor helpless insect felt as much
or more than he would do. were a knife thrust through his j
hand he burst into tears and took the poor'animal
where he fed him during a fortnight upon fresh leaves
when he was perfectly recovered, turned him out to enjalh .
erty and the fresh air. Ever since that time, Harry was
,careful and considerate, that he would step out of the way fr
fear. of hurting a worm, and empl eyed himself in doing kind
offices to all the animals in the neighborhood. He used to






6 ANDPORD AND MERTON.

stroke the horses as they were at work, and fill his pockets
with acorns for the pigs; if he walked in the fields, he was
sure to gather green boughs for the sheep, who were so fond of
him that they followed him wherever he went In the winter
time, when the ground was covered with frost and snow, and
the poor little birds could get at no food, he would often go
supperless to bed, that he might feed the robin-redbreasts.
Even toads, and frogs, and spiders, and such kind of disagree-
able animals, which most people destroy wherever they find
them, were perfectly safe with Harry: he used to say, they
had a right to live as well as we, and that it was cruel and
unjust to kill creatures, merely because we did not like them.
These sentiments made little Harry a great favorite with
everybody; particularly with the clergyman of the parish,
who became so fond of him that he taught him to read and
write, and had him almost always with him. Indeed, it was
not surprising that Mr. Barlow showed so particular an affec-
tion for him; for besides learning, with the greatest readiness,
everything that was taught him, little Harry was the most
honest, obliging creature in the world. He was never discon-
tented, nor did he ever grumble, whatever he was desired to
do And then you might believe Harry in everything he
said; for though he could have gained a plumb cake by tell-
ing an untruth, and was sure that speaking the truth would
expose him to a severe whipping, he never hesitated in de- *
daring it Nor was he like many other children. who place
their whole happiness in eating; for give him but a morsel
of dry bread for his dinner, and he would be satisfied. though
you placed sweetmeats and fruit, and every other nicety, m
his way.
With this little boy, Master Merton became acquainted in
the following manner:-As he and the maid were once walk-





8ANDPORD AND MBRTON. 7

im in the fields on a fine summer's morning, diverting them-
selves with gathering different kinds of wild flowers, and run-
ning after butterflies, a large snake, on a sudden, started up
from among some long grass, and coiled itself round little
Tommy's leg. You may imagine the fright they were both
in at this accident: the maid ran away shrieking for help,
while the child, who was in an agony of terror, did not dare
to stir from the place where he was standing. Harry, who
happened to be walking near the place, came running up, and
asked what was the matter ? Tommy, who was sobbing most
piteously, could not find words totell him, but pointed to his
l, and made Harry sensible of what had happened. Harry,
who, though young, was a boy of a most courageous spirit,
told him not to be frightened; and instantly seizing the snake
Sby the neck with as much dexterity as resolution, tore him
from Tommy's leg, and threw him to a great distance.
Just as this happened, Mrs. Merton and all the family,
alarmed by the servant's cries, came running breathless to the
lace, as Tommy was recovering his spirits and thanking his
brave little deliverer. Her first emotions were to catch her
darling up in her arms, and, after giving him a thousand kisses,
to ask him if he had received any hurt?
"No," said Tommy, "indeed I have not, mamma; but I
believe that nasty ugly beast would have bitten me, if that
little boy had not come and pulled him of" *
"And who are you, my dear," said she, "to whom we are
al so much obliged ?"
"Harry Sandrd, madam."
"Well, my child, you are a dear, brave little creature, ad
you shall go home and dine with us."
"No, thank you, madam; my father will want me."
SAnd who is your father, my sweet boy?"





SANDFORD AND MERTON.


"Farmer Sandford, madam, who lives at the bottom of the
hill."
",Well, my dear, you shall be my child henceforth; will
you?"
If you please, madam, if I may have my own father and
mother too."
Mrs. Merton instantly despatched a servant to the farmer's;
and, taking little Harry by the hand. she led him to the man-
sion-house; where she found Mr. Merton, whom she enter-
tained with a long account of Tommy's danger and Harry's
bravery. *
Harry was now in a new scene of life. He was carried
through costly apartments, where everything that could please
the eye, or contribute to convenience, was assembled. He
saw large looking glasses in gilded frames, carved tables and
chairs, curtains made of the finest silk, and the very plates and
knives and forks were silver. At dinner he was placed close
It Mrs. Merton, who took care to supply him with the choicest
bits, and engaged him to eat, with the most endearing kind-
ess;-but, to the astonishment of everybody, he neither ap-
peared pleased nor surprised at anything he saw. Mrs. Mer-
ton could not conceal her disappointment; for as she had
always been used to a great deal of finery herself, she had
expected it would make the same impression upon everybody
else. At last, seeing him eye a small silver cup with great
attention, out of which he had been drinking, she asked him,
"whether he should not like to have such a fine thing to drink
out of? and added, that, though it was Tommy's cup. she was
sure he would, with great pleasure, give it to his little friend.
Yea, that I will," says Tommy; for you know, mamma,
I have a much finer one than that, made of gold, besides two
large ones made of silver."





SANDFORD AND MRRTON. 9

"Thank you with all my heart," said little Harry; but I
will not rob you of it, for I have a much better one at home."
** How !" said Mrs. Merton, "does your father eat and drink
out of silver ?"
I don't know. madam, what you call this; but we drink
at home out of long things made of horn, just such as the
cows wear upon their heads."
The child is a simpleton. I think," said Mrs. Merton;
"and why is that better than a silver one "
Because," said Harry, they never make us uneasy."
"Make you uneasy, my child," said Mrs. Merton; what do
you mean l"
"Why. madam. when the man threw that great thing down
which looks just like this, I saw that you were very sorry
about it, and looked as if you had been just ready to drop.-
Now ours at home are thrown about by all. the family, and .
nobody-minds it."
"I protest," said Mrs. Merton to her husband, I do 4h'
know what to say to this boy4 he makes such strange obloW A
vations.-What a difference there is between the childread
farmers and gentlemen !" she continued, looking rather con-
temptuously upon Harry.
"I am not sure," said Mr. Merton, "that this time the ad-
vantage is on the side of our son:-But should not you like
to be rich, my dear "P said he, turning to Harry.
No, indeed, sir."
"No, simpleton !" said Mrs. Merton, "and why nott"
"Because the only rich man I ever saw, is Squire Chase,
who lives hard by; and he rides among people's corn, and
breaks down their hedges, and shoots their poultry, and kills
their dogs, and lames their cattle, and abuses the poor; an
they say he does all this because he's rich; but everybody






SANDFORD AND MERTON.


hates him, though they dare not tell him so to his face:-and
I would not be hated for anything in the world."
But should you not like to have a fine laced coat, and a
coach to carry you about, and, servants to wait upon you?"
"As to that, madam, one coat is as good as another, if it
will but keep one warm, and I don't want to ride, because I
can walk wherever I choose; and, as to servants, I should
have nothing for them to do, if I had a hundred of them."
Mrs. Merton continued to look at him with a sort of con-
temptuous astonishment, but did not ask him any more ques-
tions.
In the evening, little Harry was sent home to his father,
who asked him what he had seen at the great house, and how
he liked being there ?
Why," replied Harry, they were all very kind to me, for
which I'm much obliged to them; but I had rather have
been at home. for I never was so troubled in all my life to get
a dinner. There was one man to take away my plate. and
another to give me drink, and another to stand behind my
chair, just as if I had been lame or blind, and could not have
waited upon myself; and then there was so much to do with
putting this thing on, and taking another off, I thought it would
never have been over; and, after dinner, I was obliged to sit
two whole hours without ever stirring, while the lady was
walking to me, not as Mr. Barlow does. but wanting me to love
fine clothes, and to be a king, and to be rich, that I may be
hated.like Squire Chase."
But at the mansion house, much of the conversation in the
mean time was employed in examining the merits of little
Harry. Mrs. Merton acknowledged his bravery and open-
ness of temper; she was also struck with the general good-
nature and benevolence of his character; but she contended






SANDFORD AND MERTON. 11

that he had a certain grossness and indelicacy in his ideas,
which distinguishes the children of the lower and middling
classes of people from those of persons of fashion. Mr.
Merton, on the contrary, maintained, that he had never before
seen a child whose sentiments and disposition would do so
much honor even to the most elevated situations. Nothing,
he affirmed, was more easily acquired than those external
manners, and that superficial address, upon which too many
of the higher classes pride themselves as their greatest, or
even as their only accomplishment: Nay, so easily are they
picked up," said he, that we frequently see them descend
with the cast clothes to maids and valets; between whom
and their masters and mistresses there is frequently little oth-
er difference than what results from the former wearing soiled
clothes and healthier countenances. Indeed the real seat of
all superiority, even of manners, must be placed in the mind;
dignified sentiments, superior courage, accompanied with gen-
uine and universal courtesy, are always necessary to consti-
tute the real gentleman; and where these are wanting. it is
the greatest absurdity to think they can be supplied by affect-
ed tones of voice, particular grimaces, or extravagant and un-
natural modes of dress; which, far from being the real test of
gentility, have in general no other origin than the caprice of
barbers, tailors, actors, opera-dancers, milliners, fiddlers, and
French servants of both sexes. I cannot help, therefore, as-
serting," said he very seriously," that this little peasant has
within his mind the seeds of true gentility and dignity of char-
acter; and, though I shall also wish that our son may possess
all the common accomplishments of his rank, nothing would
give me more pleasure than a certainty that he would never
i any respect fall below the son of Farmer Sandford."
Whether Mrs. Merton fully acceded to these observations






12 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

of her husband. I cannot decide; but without waiting to hear
her particular sentiments he thus went on:- Should I ap-
pear more warm than usual upon this subject you must pardon
me, my dear and attribute it to the interest I feel in the wel-
fare of our little Tommy. I am too sensible that our mutual
fondness has hitherto induced us to treat him with too much
indulgence. While we have been over solicitous to remove
from him every painful and disagreeable impression we have
made him too delicate and fretful: our desire of constantly
consulting his inclinations has made us gratify even his capri-
ces and humors; and while we have been too studious to
preserve him from restraint and opposition we have in reality
been ourselves the cause that he has not acquired even the
common attainmeMts of his age and situation. All this I have
long observed in silence; but have hitherto concealed both
from my fondness for our child and my fear of offending you:
but at length a consideration of his real interests has prevailed
over every other motive, and has compelled me to embrace a
resolution, which I hope will not be disagreeable to you -
that of sending him directly to Mr. Barlow provided he would
take the care of him: and I think this accidental acquaintance
with youngSandford may prove the luckiest thing in the world.
as he is so nearly of the age and size of our Tommy. I will
therefore propose to the farmer, that I will for some years pay
for the board and education of his little boy, that he may be
a constant companion to our son."
As Mr. Merton said this with a certain degree of firmness,
and the proposal was in itself so reasonable and necessary,
Mrs. Merton did not make any objection to it, but consented,
although very reluctantly, to part with her son. Mr. Barlow
was accordingly invited to dinner the next Monday. and Mr.
Merton took an opportunity of introducing the subject, and





SANDFORD AND MERTON. 13

making the proposal to him; assuring him, at the same time,
that, though there was no return within the bounds of his for-
tune which he would not willingly make, yet the education
and improvement of his son *were objects of so much impor-
tance to him, that he should always consider himself as the
obliged party
To this, Mr Barlow. after thanking Mr. Merton for the
confidence and liberality with which he treated him, said, I
am contented to take your son for some months under my
care, and to endeavor by every means within my power to
improve him. But there is one circumstance which is indis-
pensable. that you permit me to have the pleasure of serving you
as a friend. If you approve of my ideas agd conduct, I will
keep him as long as you desire. In the ntan time, as there
are, I fear, some little circumstances which have grown up by
too much tenderness and indulgence, to be altered in his char-
acter, I think that I shall possess more of the necessary in-
fluence and authority, if I, for the present, appear to him and
your whole family rather in the light of a friend than that of
a schoolmaster."
However disagreeable this proposal was to the generosity
of Mr. Merton, he was obliged to consent to it; and little
Tommy was accordingly sent the next day to the vicarage,
which was at the distance of about two miles from his father's
house.
The day after Tommy came to Mr. Barlow's, as soon as
breakfast was over, he took him and Harry into the garden:
when he was there, he took a spade into his own hand, and
giving Harry a hoe, they both began to work with great eager-
ness.-" Everybody that eats," said Mr. Barlow, ought to
assist in procuring food: and therefore little Harry and I be-
gin our daily work: this is my bed, and that other is his; we





14 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

work upon it every day, and he that raises the most out of it,
will deserve to fare the best.-Now, Tommy, if you choose
to join us, I will mark you out a piece of ground, which you
shall have to yourself, and all the produce shall be your own."
" No, indeed," said Tommy, very sulkily," I am a gentleman,
and don't choose to slave like a plough-boy."-" Just as you
please, Mr. Gentleman," said Mr. Barlow: but Harry and I,
who are not above being useful, will mind our work"
In about two hours, Mr. Barlow said it was time to leave
off; and, taking Harry by the hand, he led him into a very
pleasant summer-house, where they sat down; and Mr. Bar-
low, taking out a plate of very fine cherries, divided them be-
tween Harry and himself.
Tommy, who hid followed, and expected his share, when
he saw them both eating without taking any notice of him,
could no longer restrain his passion, but burst into a violent
fit of sobbing and crying.-" What is the matter ?" said Mr.
Barlow very coolly to him. Tommy looked upon him very
sulkily, but returned no answer.-" Oh! sir, if you don't
choose to give me any answer, you may be silent; nobody is
obliged to speak here." Tommy became still more discon-
certed at this, and, being unable to conceal his anger, ran out
of the summer-house, and wandered very disconsolately about
the garden. equally surprised and vexed to find that he was
now in a place where nobody felt any concern whether he
was pleased, or the contrary.
When all the cherries were eat, little Harry. said, "You
promised to be so good as to hear me read when we had done
working in the garden; and, if it is agreeable to you, I will
now read the story of the Flies and the Ants."-" With all
my heart," said Mr. Barlow: "remember to read it slowly
and distinctly, without hesitating or pronouncing the words





8ANDPORD AND MERTON.


wrong; and be sure to read it in such a manner as to show
that you understand it."
Harry then took up the book and read as follows:-

THE FLIES AND THE ANTS.
In a corner of a farmer's garden there was once a large
nest of Ants, who, during the fine weather of the summer,
were employed all day long in drawing little seeds and grains
of corn into their hole. Near them there happened to be a
bed of flowers, upon which a great quantity of Flies used to
be always sporting, and humming, and diverting themselves
by flying from one flower to another.-A little boy, who was
the farmer's son, used frequently to observe the different em-
ployments of these animals; and, as he was very young and
ignorant, he one day thus expressed himself:-" Can any
creature be so simple as these Ants? All day long they are
working and toiling, instead of enjoying the fine weather, and
diverting themselves like these Flies, who are nt -i-ppe-t
creatures in the world."-Some time after he had made this
observation, the weather grew extremely cold. the sun was
scarcely seen to shine, and the nights were chill and frosty.
The same little boy, walking then in the garden, did not see
a single Ant, but all the Flies lay scattered up and down,
either dead or dying. As he was very good-natured, he could
not help pitying the unfortunate animals, and asking at the
same time, what had happened to the Ants that he used to
see in the same place ? The father said," The Flies are all
dead, because they were careless animals, -who gave them-
selves no trouble about laying up provisions, and were too
idle to work; but the Ants, who had been busy all the sum-
mer, in providing for their maintenance during the winter,






SANDFOROW AND KftIL3N.


ae all alive and well: aid you will see them again as mooa
as the warm weather returns."
"Very well Harry," said Mr. Barlow, "we will now take
a walk."
trhey accordingly rambled out into the fields, where Mr.
Bamtw made Harry take notice of several kinds of plants and
told him the names and nature of them. At last Harry who
had observed some very pretty purple berries upon a plant
that bore a purple flower and grew in the hedges brought
thendto Mr. Barlow. and asked if they were good to eat?
i^t ,iery lucky. young man said Mr. Barlow that you
-. idle question before you put them into your mouth: for,
bad you tasted sfmn. they would have giverr you violent pains
in the head aa stomach. and perhaps have killed you. as
they grow upon a plant called Nightshade, which is a rank
poeion."
"Sir," said Harry, "I take care never to eat anything
without knowing what it is; and I hope. if you will be s
good a to continue to teach me. r shall very qoon know the
ames and qualities of all the herbs which grow."
Ald'hey were returning home. Harry saw a very large bird,
cled a Kite, upon the ground. who seemed to have something
in .his claws'which he was tearing to pieces. Harry, who
raew him to be one of those ravenous creatures which prey
upon others, ran up to him, shouting as load as he could; and
the bird, being frightened, flew away, and left a chicken be-
hind him, very much hurt indeed, but still alive.
Look, sir," aid Harry, if that cruel creature hqp not
almost killed this poorchicken I see how he bleeds and hangs
his wings II wil 'put him into my bosom to recover him





SANDrORD AND MERTON. It

and carry him home; and he shall have part of my dinner
every day, till he is well, and able to shift for himwll"
As soon as they came home, the first care of ltle Harry
was to put his wounded chicken into a basket, with some fr-l
straw. some water, and some bread; after that, Mr. Barlow
and he went to dinner.
In the mean time. Tommy, who had been.skulking about
all day, very much mortified and uneasy, came'in. and, being
very hungry was going to sit down to the table with the rest;
but Mr. Barlow stopped him and said, "No sir; as you ae
too much of a gentleman to work, we, who are not so, do nbt
choose to work for the idle."
Upon this, Tommy retired into a corner, crying as if his
heart would break. but more from.grief than passion, as he
began to perceive that nobody minded his ill-temper.
But little Harry, who could not bear to see his friael so
* unhappy, looked up, half-crying, into Mr Barlow~r.-KCe. a
said, Pray, sir, may I do as I please with may ,ae f the
dinner ?"
"Yes, to be sure, child."
Why, then," said he, getting up, "I will give it al to per
Tommy, who wants it more than I do."
Saying this, he gave it to him as he sat in the corner; and
Tommy took it, and thanked him, without ever toroim his
eyes from off the ground.
"I see," said Mr. Barlow, "that though gentlemm am
above being of any use td themselves, they are not above tak-
ing the bread that other people have been working hard for."
At this Tommy cried still more bitterly than before.
Tphe next day, Mr. Barlow and Harry went to work as be-.
fol; but they ha4 scarcely begun before Tommy came to
' tg and desired that he might have a hoe too, which M.






20 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Barlow gave him: but as he had never before learned to
handle one, he was very awkward in the use of it, and hit
himself several strokes upon the legs. Mr. Barlow then laid
down his own spade, and showed him how to hold and use
it; by which means, in a short time, he became very expert,
and worked with the greatest pleasure. When their work
was over, they all three retired to the summer-house; and
Tommy felt the greatest joy imaginable, when the fruit was
produced and he was invited to take his share, which seemed
to him the most delicious he had ever tasted, because working
in the air had given him an appetite.
As soon as they had done eating, Mr. Barlow took up a
book and asked Tommy whether he would read them a story
out of it But he, looking a little ashamed, said, he had
never learned to read.
"I am very sorry for it," said Mr. Barlow, because you
lose a very great pleasure: then Harry shall read to you."
Harry accordingly took up the book and read the following
story:-

THE GENTLEMAN AND THE BASKET-MAKER.

THaEa was, in a distant part of the world, a rich ian, who
lived in a fine house, and spent his time in eating, drinking,
sleeping, and amusing himself. As he had a great many
servants to wait upon him, who treated him with the greatest
respect, and did whatever they were ordered; and as he had
never been taught the truth, nor accustomed to hear it, he
grew very proud, insolent, and capricious: imagining that he
had a right to command all the world,-and that the poor were
onl born to serve and obey him.
ear this rich man's house there lived an honest and4w.






SANDFORD AND MERTON.


dustrious poor man, who gained his livelihood by making
little baskets out of dried reeds, which grew upon a piece of
marshy ground close to his cottage. But though he was
obliged to labor from morning to night, to earn food enough
to support him, and though he seldom fared better than upon
dry bread, or rice, or pulse. and had no other bed than the
remains of the rushes of which he made baskets, yet was he
always happy, cheerful and contented; for his labor gave
him so good an appetite that the coarsest fare appeared to
him delicious; and he went to bed so tired, that he would
have slept soundly even upon the ground. Besides this, he
was a good and virtuous man, humane to everybody, honest
in his dealings, always accustomed to speak the truth, and
therefore beloved and respected by all his neighbors.
The rich man, on the contrary, though he lay upon the
softest bed, yet could not sleep, because he had passed the
day in idleness; and though the nicest dishes were presented
to him, yet could he not eat with any pleasure, because 'he
did not wait till nature gave him an appetite, nor use exer-
cise, nor go into the open air. Besides this, as he was a
great sluggard and glutton, he was almost always ill; and, as
he did good to nobody, he had no friends, and even his serv-
ants spoke ill of him behind his back, and all his neighbors,
whom he oppressed, hated him. For these reasons, he war
sullen, melancholy, and unhappy, and became displeased with
all who appeared more cheerful than himself When he was
carried out in his palanquin (a kind of bed borne upon the
shoulders of men.) he frequently passed by the cottage of the
poor Basket-maker, who was always sitting at the door, and
singing as he wove the baskets The rich man could not be-
hold this without anger.
SWhat!" said he, "shall a wretch, a peasant, a low-born






22 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

fellow, that weaves bilrushes for a scanty subsistence, be al-
ways happy and pleased while I. who am a gentleman. pos-
sessed of riches and power, and of more consequence than a
million of reptiles like him, am always melancholy and dis-
contented!"
This reflection arose so often in his mind, that at last he
began to feel the greatest degree of hatred towards the poor
man; and as he had never been accustomed to conquer his
own passions, however improper or unjust they might be. he
at last determined to punish the Basket-maker for being hap-
pier than himself
With this wicked design, he one night gave orders to his
servants (who did not dare to disobeyhim) to set fire to the
rushes which surrounded-the poor man's house. As it was
summer, and the weather in that country extremely hot. the
fire soon spread over the whole marsh. and not only con-
sumed all the rushes. but soon extended to the cottage itself,
and the poor Basket-maker was obliged to run out almost
naked, to save his life.
You may judge of the surprise and grief of the poor man,
when he found himself entirely deprived of his subsistence
by the wickedness of his rich neighbor, whom he had never
offended: but as he was unable to punish him for this injus-
tice, he set out and walked on foot to the chief magistrate,
of that country; to whom, with many tears, he told his pitiful
case.
The magistrate, who was a good and just man, immediately
ordered the rich man to be brought before him; and when
he found he could not deny the wickedness of which he was
accused, he thus spoke to the poor man: As this proud and
wicked man has been puffed up with the opinion of his own
importance, and attempted to commit the most scandalous.






8ANDFORD AND MERTON. 23

injustice from his contempt of the poor, I am willing to teach
him of how little value he is to anybody, and how vile and
contemptible a creature he really is: but for this purpose, it
is necessary that you should consent to the plan I have form-
ed, and go along with him to the place whither I intend to
send you both."
The poor man replied, "I never had much; but the little I
once had is now lost by the mischievous disposition of this
proud and oppressive man: I am entirely ruined; I have no
means left in the world of procuring myself a morsel of bread
the next time I am hungry; therefore I am ready to go wher-
ever you please to send me; and though I would not treat this
man as he has treated me, yet I should rejoice to teach him
more justice and humanity, and to prevent his injuring the
poor a second time."
The magistrate then ordered them both to be put on board a
ship and carried to a distant country, which was inhabited by
a rude and savage kind of men, who lived in huts, were stran-
gers to riches, and got their living by fishing.
As soon as they were set on shore, the sailors left them, as
they had been ordered; and the inhabitants of the country
came around them in great numbers. The rich man, seeing
himself thus exposed, without assistance or defence, in the
midst of a barbarous people, whose language he did not un-
derstand. and in whose power he was, began to cry and wring
his hands in the most abject manner; but the poor Basket.
maker, who had always been accustomed to hardship and
dangers from his infancy, made signs to the people that he was
their friend, and was willing to work for them, and be their
servant. Upon this the natives made signs to them that they
would do them no hurt. but would make use of their asmt- *
ance in fishing and carrying wood.






SANDFORD AND MERTON.


Accordingly, they led them both to a wood at some distance,
and showing them several logs, ordered them to transport
them to their cabins. They both immediately set about their
tasks; and the poor man, who was strong and active, very
soon had finished his share; while the rich man, whose
limbs were tender and delicate, and never accustomed to any
kind of labor, had scarcely done a quarter as much. The
savages, who were witnesses to this, began to think that the
Basket-maker would prove very useful to them, and therefore
presented him a large portion of fish, and several of their
choicest roots; while to the rich man they gave scarcely
enough to support him, because they thought him capable of
being of very little service to them; however, as he had now
fasted several hours, he ate what they gave him with a better
appetite than he had ever felt before at his own table.
The next day they were set to work again and as the
Basket-maker had the. same advantage over his companion,
he was highly caressed and well-treated by the natives, while
they showed every mark of contempt towards the other,
whose delicate and luxurious habits had rendered him unfit
for labor.
The rich man now began to perceive, with how little rea-
son he had before valued himself, and despised his fellow-
creatures, and an accident that fell out shortly after, tended
to complete his mortification. It happened that one of the
savages had found something like a fillet, with which he
adorned his forehead, and seemed to think himself extremely
fine: the Basket-maker, who had perceived this appearance
of vanity, pulled up some reeds, and sitting down to work, in
Svery short time finished a very elegant wreath, which he
placed upon the head of the first inhabitant he chanced to
meet This man was so pleased with his new acquisition that





SANDFORD AND MERTON. 25

he danced and capered for joy, and ran away to seek the rest,
who were all struck with astonishment at this new and ele-
gant piece of finery. It was not long before another came to
the Basket-maker, making signs that he wanted to be orna-
mented like his companion; and with such pleasure were
these chaplets viewed by the whole nation, that the Basket-
maker was released from Bis former drudgery, and continual-
ly employed in weaving them. In return for the pleasure
which he conferred upon them, the grateful savages brought
him every kind of food their country afforded, built him a hut,
and showed him every demonstration of gratitude and kind-
ness. But the rich man, who possessed neither talents ,to
please, nor strength to labor, was condemned to be the Basket-
maker's servant, and to cut him reeds to supply the con-
tinual demand for chaplets.
After having passed some months in this manner, they
were again transported to their own country, by the orders of
the magistrate, and brought before him. He then looked
sternly upon the rich man, and said: "Having now taught you
how helpless, contemptible, and feeble a creature you are, as
well as how inferior tQ the man you insulted, I shall proceed
to make reparation to him for the injury you have inflicted
upon him. Did I treat you as you deserve, I should take from
you all the riches that you possess, as you wantonly deprived
this poor man of his whole subsistence; but hoping that you
will become more humane for the future, I sentence you to
give half your fortune to this man, whom you endeavored to
ruin."
Upon this, the Basket-maker said, after thanking the magis-
trate for his goodness:-" I, having been bred up in poverty)
and accustomed to labor, have no desire to acquire riches,
which I should not know how to use: all, therefore, that I re






4ANDFORD AND MERTON.


quire of this man, is to put me in the same situation I was in
before. and to learn more humanity."
The rich man could not help being astonished at this gene-
rosity; and having acquired wisdom by his misfortunes. he not
only treated the Basket-maker as a friend during the rest of
his life. but employed his riches in relieving the poor, and
benefiting his fellow-creatures.

The story being ended. Tommy said it was very pretty;
but that, had he been the good Basket-maker. he would
have taken the naughty rich man's fortune, and kept it.
"So would not I," said Harry, 'for fear of growing as
proud, and wicked, and idle as the other."
From this time forward, Mr. Barlow, and his two little pu-
pils used constantly to work in their garden every morning;
and when they were fatigued, they retired to the summer-
house. where little Harry. who improved every day in read-
ing. used to entertain them with some pleasant story or
other. which Tommy always listened to with pleasure. But
little Harry going home for a week, Tommy and Mr. Barlow
were left alone.
The next day. after they had done work and were retired
to the summer-house as usual. Tommy expected Mr. Barlow
would read to him; but. to his great disappointment. found
that he was busy and could not. The next day the accident
was renewed; and the day after that. At this Tommy lost all
patience. and said to himself "Now. if I could but read like
little Harry Sandford. I should not need to ask anybody to do
it for me, and then I could divert myself: and why may not
I do what another has done? To be sure, little Iarry is
very clever; but he could not have read if he had not been
taught; and if I am taught, I dare say I shall learn to read M





SANDFORD AND MERTqTLW


well as he. Well. as soon as ever he comes home, I am de-
termined to ask him about it."
The next day little Harry returned, and as soon as Tommy
had an opportunity of being alone with him; "Pray, Harry,"
said Tommy. how came you to be able to read ?"
Why. Mr. Barlow taught me my letters, and then spelling,
and then. by putting syllables together, I learned to read."
And could not you show me my letters ?" asked Tommy.
"Yes, very willingly."
Harry then took up a book, and Tommy was so eager and
attentive, that at the very first lesson he learned the whole al-
phabet. Ie was infinitely pleased with this first experiment,
and could scarcely forbear running to Mr. Barlow to let him
know the improvement he had made; but he thought he
should surprise him more if he said nothing about the matter
till he was able to read a whole story. He therefore applied
himself with such diligence and little Harry, who spared no
pains to assist his friend. was so good a master, that in about
two months he determined to surprise Mr. Barlow with adis-
play of his talents. Accordingly one day, when they were
all assembled in the summer-house. and the book was given
to Harry, Tommy stood up and said, that if Mr. Barlow
pleased he would try to read.
"Oh! very willingly," said Mr. Barlow; "but I should
as soon expect you to fly as to read."
Tommy smiled with a consciousness of his own proi-
ciency; and, taking up the book, read with great fluency,

THE HISTORY OF JOWLER AND KEEPER.
IN a part of the world, where there are many strong and
fierce wild beasts, a poor man happened to bring up two pup-






28 8ANDPORD AND MERTON.

pies of that kind which is most valued for size and courage.
As they appeared to possess more than common strength and
agility, he thought that he should make an acceptable present
to his landlord, who was a rich man living in a great city. by
giving him one of them, which was called Jowler; while he
brought up the other, named Keeper, to guard his own flocks.
From this time, the manner of living was entirely altered
between the brother whelps. Jowler was sent into a plenti-
ful kitchen, where he quickly became the favorite of all the
servants, who diverted themselves with his little tricks and
wanton gambols, and rewarded him with great quantities of
pot-liquor and broken victuals; by which means, as he was
stuffing from morning till night, he increased considerably in
size, and grew sleek and comely: he was, indeed, rather un-
wieldy, and so cowardly, that he would run away from a dog
only half as big as himself: he was much addicted to glut-
tony, and was often beaten for the thefts he committed in the
pantry; but, as he had learned to fawn npon the servants,
and would stand upon his hind legs to beg, when he was
ordered, and, besides this, would fetch and carry, he was
mightily caressed by all the neighborhood.
eeper, in the mean time, who lived at a cottage in the
country, neither fared so well, looked so plump, nor had learned
all these pretty little tricks to recommend him: but, as his
master was too poor to maintain anything but what was use-
ful, and was obliged to be continually in the air, subject to all
kinds of weather, and laboring hard for a livelihood, Keeper
grew hardy, active and diligent: he was also exposed to con-
tinual danger from the wolves, from whom he had received
many a severe bite, while he was guarding the flocks. These
continual combats gave him that degree of intrepidity, that
no enemy could make him turn his back. His care and ass-





SANDPORD AND MitToN. S9

siduity so well defended the sheep of his master, that not one
had ever been missing since they were placed under his pro-
tection. His honesty too was so great, that no temptation
*could overpower it; and, though he was left alone in the
kitchen while the meat was roasting, he never attempted to
taste it, but received with thankfulness whatever his master
chose to give him. From a continual life in the air, he had
become so hardy, that no tempest could drive him to shelter,
when he ought to be employed in watching the flocks; and
he would plunge into the most rapid river, in the coldest part
of the winter, at the slightest sign from his master.
About this time it happened, that the landlord of the poor
man went to examine his estate in the country, and brought
Jowler with him to the place of his birth. At his arrival
there, he could not help viewing with great contempt the
rough, ragged appearance of Keeper, and his awkward look,
which discovered nothing of the address for which he so
much admired Jowler. This opinion, however, was altered
by means of an accident which happened to him. As he
was one lay walking in a thick wood, with no other com-
pany than the two dogs, a hungry wolf, with eyes that spar-
kled like fire, bristling hair, and a horrid snarl that made the
gentleman tremble, rushed out of a neighboring thicket, and
seemed ready to devour him. The unfortunate man gave
himself over for lost, more especially when he saw that his
faithful Jowler, instead of coming to his assistance, ran sneak-
ing away, with his tail between his legs, howling with fer.
But in this moment of despair, the undaunted Keeper, who
had followed him humbly and unobserved, at a distance, flew
to his assistance, and attacked the wolf with so much cour-
age and skill, that he was compelled to exert all his strength
a his own defence. The battle was long and bloody; buat





8ANDFORD AND MERTON.


in the end, Keeper laid the wolf dead at his feet, though not
without receiving several severe wounds himself, and present-
ing a bloody and mangled spectacle to the eyes of his mas-
ter. who came up at that instant. The gentleman was filled
with joy for his escape, and gratitude to his valiant deliv-
erer; and learned by his own experience, that appearances
are not always to be trusted, and that great virtues and good
dispositions may sometimes be found in cottages; while they
are totally wanting among the great

"Very well, indeed," said 9r. Barlow;'" I find that when
young gentlemen choose to take pains. they can do things
almost as well as other people. But what do you say to the
story you have been reading. Tommy? Would you rather
have owned the genteel dog that left his master to be de-
voured, or the poor, rough, ragged, meagre, neglected cur,
that exposed his own life in his defence ?"
"Indeed, sir," said Tommy, "I would rather have had
Keeper; but then I would have fed him. and washed him,
and combed him, till he had looked as well as Jowler."
"But then, perhaps, he would have grown idle, and fat,
and cowardly, like him," said Mr. Barlow: but here is some
more of it; let us read to the end of the story."
Tommy then went on thus:

The gentleman was so pleased with the noble behavior of
Keeper, that he desired the poor man to make him a present
of the dog; which, though with some reluctance, he com-
plied with. Keeper was therefore taken to the city, where
he was caressed and fed by everybody; and the disgraced
Jowler was left at the cottage, with strict injunctions to the
man to hang him up, as a worthless, unprofitable cur.





SANDPORD AND.MBRTON. 31

As soon as the gentleman had departed, the poor man was
going to execute his commission; but, considering the noble
size and comely look of the dog, and, above all, being moved
with pity or the poor animal, who wagged his tail, and licked
his new master's feet, just as he was putting the cord about
his neck, he determined to spare his life, and see whether a
different treatment might not produce different manners.
From this day Jowler was in every respect treated as his
brother Keeper hai been before. lie was fed but scantily;
and from this spare diet. soon grew more active and fond of
exercise. The first shower he was in. he ran away as he had
been accustomed to do and sneaked to the fire side: but the.
farmer's wife soon drove him out of doors. and compelled him
to bear the rigor of the weather. In consequence of this. he
daily became more vigorous and hardy, and in a few months,
regarded coll and rain no more than if he hal been brought
up in the country.
Changed as he already was in many respects for the bet-
ter. he still retained an insurmountable dread of wild beasts:
till one day. as he was wandering through a wood alone, he
was attacked by a large and fierce wolf. who jumping out of
a thicket, seized him by the neck with fury. Jowler would
fain have run, but his enemy was too swift and violent to suf-
fer him to escape. Necessity makes even cowards brave.
Jowler being thus stopped in his retreat, turned upon his
enemy. and very luckily seizing him by the throat, strangled
him in an instant. His master then coming up, and being
witness of his exploit, praised him, and stroked him with a
degree of fondness he had never done before. Animated by
this victory, and by the approbation of his master, Jowler
from that time became as brave as he had before been pusil.





32 SANDPOOD AND MERTON.

lanimous; and there was very soon no dog in the country
who was so great a terror to beasts of prey.
In the mean time, Keeper, instead of hunting wild beasts,
or looking after sheep, did nothing but eat and sleep, which
he was permitted to do from a remembrance of his past ser-
vices. As all qualities both of mind and body are lost. if
not continually exercised, he soon ceased to be that hardy,
courageous animal he was before; and acquired all the faults
which are the consequences of idleness and gluttony.
About this time, the gentleman went again into the coun-
try, and, taking his dog with him, was willing that he should
*exercise his prowess once more against his ancient enemies,
the wolves. Accordingly, the country-people having quickly
ibnd one in a neighboring wood, the gentleman went thither
with Keeper, expecting to see him behave as he had done the
year before. But how great was his surprise, when, at the
first onset, he saw his beloved dog run away with every mark
of timidity I At this moment, another dog sprang forward,
and seizing the wolf with the greatest intrepidity, after a
bloody contest, left him dead upon the ground. The gentle-
man could not help lamenting the cowardice of his favorite,
and admiring the noble spirit of the other dog, whom, to his
infinite surprise, he found to be the same Jowler that he had
discarded the year before.-" I now see," said he to the
farmer, that it is in vain to expect courage in those who live
ajliflf indolence and repose; and that constant exercise and
Wr discipline are frequently able to change contemptible
chearaters into good ones."

SIndeed," said Mr. Barlow, when the story was ended,
"I am sincerely glad to find that Tommy has made this ao-
quisition. He wil now depend upon nobody, but be able te





SANDFORD AND MERTON.


divert himself whenever he pleases. All that has ever been
written in our own language will be from this time in his
power; whether he chooses to read little entertaining stories
like that we have heard to day, or to read the actions of great
and good men in history, or to make himself acquainted with
the nature of wild beasts and birds, which are found in other
countries, and have been described in books: in short, I
scarcely know of anything which from this moment will not
be in his power; and I do not despair of some day sing
him a very sensible man, capable of teaching and instructing
others."
Yes," said Tommy, something elated by all this praise,
"I am determined now to make myself as clever as any-
body; and I don't doubt, though I am such a little fellow
that I know more already than many grown up people; shd
I am sure, though there are no less than six blacks in our
house, that there is not one of them who can read a story
like me."
Mr. Barlow looked a little grave at this sudden display of
vanity; and said rather coolly, Pray, who has attempted to
teach them anything ?"
"Nobody, I believe said Tommy.
"Where is the great wonder, then, if they are ignorant ?"
replied Mr. Barlow; you would probably have never known
anything, had you not been assisted; and even now, you
know very little."
In this manner did Mr. Barlow begin the education of
Tommy Merton, who had naturally very good dispositions,
although he had been suffered to acquire many bad habits,
4 that sometimes prevented them from appearing. He was, in
particu r, very passionate, and thought he had a right to
a malnd everybody who was not dressed as fine as himself
3






8ANDFORD AND MERTON.


This opinion often led him into inconveniences. and once was
the occasion of his being very severely mortified.
This accident happened in the following manner:-One
day, as Tommy was striking a ball with his bat. he struck it
over a hedge into an adjoining field. and seeing a little ragged
boy walking along on that side. he ordered him. in a very
peremptory tone, to bring it to him. The little boy. without
taking any notice of what was said, walked on and left the
ballI upon which. Tommy called more loudly than before,
and asked if he did not hear what was said ?
Yes," said the boy, "for the matter of that, I am not
deaf."
tOh I are you not?" replied Tommy; "than bring me my
I1l directly."
"I don't choose it," said the boy.
"Sirrah," said Tommy, "if I come to you, I shall make
you choose it"
M Perhaps not, my pretty little master," said the boy.
"You little rascal,o said Tommy, who now began to be
very angry, "if I come over the hedge, I will thrash you
within an inch of your life."
To this the other made no answer but *y a loud laugh,
which provoked Tommy so much, that he clambered over
the hedge and jumped precipitately down, intending to have
leaped into the field; but unfortunately his foot slipped, and
down he rolled into a wet ditch, which was full of mud and
water; there poor Tommy tumbled about for some time, en-
deavoring to get out; but it was to no purpose. for his feet
stuck in the mud, or slipped off from the bank; his fine waist-
coat was dirtied all over, his white stockings covered with d
mire, his breeches filled with puddle water; and, t add t-
his distress, he first lost one shoe, and then the otier; bhi






36


pap





BANDFORD AND MERTON.


laced hat tumbled off from his head, and was completely
spoiled. In this distress he must probably have remained a
considerable time, had not the little ragged boy taken pity on
him, and helped him out Tommy was so vexed and ashamed,
that he could not say a word, but ran home in such a dirty
plight, that Mr. Barlow, who happened to meet him, was
afraid he had been considerably hurt; but, when he heard the
accident which had happened, he could not help smiling, and
he advised Tommy to be more careful for the future, how he
attempted to thrash little ragged boys.
The next day, Mr. Barlow desired Harry, when they were
all together in the arbor, to read the following story of

ANDROCLES AND THE LION.
TERazE was a certain slave named Androcles, who was so
ill-treated by his master, that his life became inspportable.
Finding no remedy for what he suffered, he atlen said to
himself: It is better to die, than continue in such hardships
and misery as I am obliged to live in. I am determine there-
fore to run away from my master. If I am ta -M I
know that I shall be punished with a cruel deat &
better to die at once, than to live in misery. If I
must betake myself to deserts and woods, inhabited only
wild beasts: but they cannot use me more cruelly tha
have been used by my fellow-creatures: therefore, I
rather trust myself with them, than continue to be a miser-
able lwkam
Hwra formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of
leaving his faster's house, and hid himself in a thick fept,
which was at some miles' distance from the city. But h-6
ta unhappy.man found that he had only escaped from one
St 3






SANDFORD AND MERTON.


kind of misery to experience another. He wandered about
all day through a vast and trackless wood, where his flesh
was continually torn by thorns and brambles; he grew hun.
gry, but could find no food in this dreary solitude; at length
he was ready to die with fatigue, and lay down in despair in
a large cavern which he found.
This unfortunate man had not laid long quiet in the cavern,
before he heard a dreadful noise, which seemed to be the
roar of some wild beast, and terrified him very much. He
started up with a design to escape, and had already reached
the mouth of the cave, when he saw coming towards him a
lion of prodigious size, who prevented any possibility of re-
treat The unfortunate man now believed his destruction to
be inevitable bt, to his great astonishment, the beast ad-
vanced towards him with a gentle pace, without any mark of
.enmity or rage,'and uttered a kind of mournful voice, as if he
demanded the assistance of the man.
Andrcles, *ho was naturally of a resolute disposition, ac-
quired courage, from this circumstance, to examine his mon-
strous guest, who gave him sufficient leisure for that purpo
He saw, as the lion approached him, that he seemed to lim
upon one of his legs, and that the foot was extremely swelled,
as if it had been wounded. Acquiring still more fortitude
from the gentle demeanor of the beast, he advanced towards
Oim, and tsk hold of the wounded paw, as a surgeon would
examine a otient He then perceived that a thorn of un-
common siehad penetrated the ball of the foot, and was the
occasion of the swelling and lameness which he had observed.
'Androcles found that the beast, far from lesentin the famil-
iarity, received it wjth the greatest gentleness, and seemed to
invite him by his blandishments to proceed. He therefore
extracted the thorn, and, pressing the swelling, discharged a






SANDFORD AND MBRTON.


considerable quantity of matter, which had been the cause of
so much pain arid uneasiness.
As soon as the beast felt himself thus relieved, he began
to testify his joy and gratitude, by every expression within
his power. He jumped about like a wanton spaniel, waged
his enormous tail, and licked the feet and hands of his phy-
sician. Nor was he contented with these demonstrations of
kindness: from this moment Androcles became his guest;
nor did the lion ever sally forth in quest of prey without bring-
ing home the produce of his chase, and sharing it with his
friend. In this savage state of hospitality did the man con-
tinue to live during the space of several months; at length,
wandering unguarddly through the woods, he met with a
company of soldiers sent out to apprehend him, and was by
them taken prisoner, and conducted back to his master. The
laws of that country being very severe against slaves, he was
tried and found guilty of having fled from his master, and, as
a punishment for his pretended crime, he was sentenced to
be torn in pieces by a furious lion, kept many days without
food, to inspire him with additional rage.
When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy man was
exposed, unarmed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed
on every side, round which many thousand people were as-
sembled to view the mournful spectacle.
Presently a dreadful yell was heard, which struck the
spectators with horror; and a monstrous lion rushed out of a
den, which was purposely set open, and darted forward with
erected mane, and faming eyes, and jaws that gaped like an
open sepulchre. A mouralf silence instantly preled I All
eyes were turned upon the destined victim, w.how destruc-
tion now appeared inevitable. But the pity of the mtulti de
was soon converted into astonishment, when they beheld the





SANDFORD AND MERTON.


lion, instead of destroying his defenceless prey. crouch sub-
missively at his feet, fawn upon him as a faithful dog would
do upon his master, and rejoice over him as a mother who
unexpectedly recovers her offspring. The governor of the
town, who was present, then called out with a loud voice, and
ordered Androcles to explain to them this unintelligible mys-
tery; and how a savage beast of the fiercest and most un-
pitying nature should thus in a moment have forgotten his
innate disposition, and be converted into a harmless and
inoffensive animal.
, Androcles then related to the assembly every circumstance
of his adventures in the woods, and concluded by saying, that
the very lion which now stood before them, had been his
friend and entertainer in the woods. All the persons present
were astonished and delighted with the story, to find that
even the fiercest beasts are capable of being softened by grati-
tude, and moved by humanity; and they unanimously joined
to entreat for the pardon of the unhappy man from the gover-
nor of the place. This was immediately granted to him; and
he was also presented with the lion, who had in this manner
twice saved the life of Androcles.

"Upon my word," said Tommy, this is a very pretty
story; but I never should have thought that a lion could have
grown so tame; I thought that they, and tigers, and wolves,
.were so fierce and cruel, that they would tear everything they.
met in pieces."
When they are hungry," said Mr.. Barlow, "they kill
every animal they meet: but this is to devour it; for they
can only live n flesh, like dogs, and cats, and many other
kinds of animal When they are not hungry, they seldom
meddle with anything or do unnecessary mischief; theefor





SANDFORD AND MEBTON. 41

they are much less cruel than many persons that I have sen,
and even than many children, who plague and torment ani-
mals, without any reason whatsoever."
"Indeed, sir," said Harry, I think so. And I remember,
as I was walking along the road, some days past, I saw a
little naughty boy who used a poor horse very ill indeed. The
poor animal was so lame, that he could hardly stir; and yet
the boy beat him with a great stick as violently as he was
able, to make him him go on faster."
And what did you say to him ?" said Mr. Barlow.
"Why, sir, I told him how naughty and cruel it was; and
I asked him, how he would like to be beaten in that manner
by somebody that was stronger than himself?"
"And what answer did he make you ?" asked Mr. Barlow.
He said, it was his father's horse, and that he had a right
to beat it; and that if I said a word more, he would beat me."
"And what answer did you make 7 any ?"
"I told him, if it was his father's horse, he should not use
it ill; for that we were all God's creatures, and that we
should love each other, as he loved us all; and that as to
beating me, if he struck me, I had a right to strike him again
and would do it, though he was almost as big again a I
was."
And did he strike you?" asked Mr. Barlow.
Ya, sir," answered Harry, he endeavored to strike me
upon the head with his stick, but I dodged, and so it fell upon
my shoulder; and he was going to strike me agaia butL
darted at him, and knocked him down, and then he begn
blubbering, and begged me not to hurt him."
It is not uncommon for those who are most cruel, to be
at the same time most cowardly: but what did you do then ?"
asked Mr. Barlow.






42 8ANDFORD AND MERTON.

"Sir, I told him I did not want to hurt him; but that, '
he had meddled with me. I would not let him rise till he
promised me not to hurt the poor beast any more; which he
did. and then I let him go about his business," replied Harry.
You did very right." said Mr. Barlow; and I suppose
the boy looked as foolish, when he was rising, as Tommy did
the other day, when the little ragged boy that he was going
to beat, helped him out of the ditch."
Sir," answered Tommy, a little confused, I should not
have attempted to beat him, only he would not bring me my
bal V"
"And what right had you to oblige him to bring your
ball ?"
"Why, sir, he was a little ragged boy, and I am a gentle-
man," answered Tommy.
So then, every gentleman has a right to command little
ragged boys ?" said Mr. Barlow.
- "To be sure, sir," replied Tommy.
Then if your clothes should wear out and become ragged,
every gentleman will have a right to command you ?"
Tommy looked a little foolish, and said, "But he might
have done it, as he was on that side of the hedge."
And so he probably would have done," said Mr. Barlow,
"if you had asked him civilly to do it; but when persons speak
in a haughty tone, they will find few inclined to served them.
But as the boy was poor and ragged, I suppose you hired
him with money to fetch your ball."
"Indeed, sir, I did not; I neither gave him anything, nor
offered him anything."
Probably you had nothing to give him ?" said Mr. Barlow.
Yes, I had, though," answered Tommy, "I had all this
money," (pulling out several shillings.)





SANDFORD AND MBRTON. 43

Perhaps the boy was as rich as you."
No, he was not, sir, I am sure; for he had no coat, and
his waistcoat and trowsers were all tattered and ragged;
besides, he had no stockings, and his shoes were full of
holes."
So, now I see what constitutes a gentleman," said Mr.
Barlow. A gentleman is one who, when he has abundance
of everything, keeps it all to himself; beats poor people, if
they can't serve him for nothing; and when they have done
him the greatest favor, in spite of his insolence, never feels
Sany gratitude, or does them any good in return. I find tha
Androcles' lion was no gentleman."
Tommy was so affected with this rebuke, that he could
hardly contain his tears; and, as he was really a boy of a
generous temper, he determined to give the little ragged boy
something the very first time he should see him again. He
did not long wait for an opportunity; for, as he was walking
out that very afternoon, he saw him at some distance gather-
ing blackberries, and, going up to him, he accosted him thus:
Little boy, I want to know why you are so ragged; have
you no other clothes ?"
"No, indeed," said the boy; I have seven brothers ad
sisters, and they are all as ragged as myself; but I shoWl
not much mind that, if I could have plenty to eat"
"Aad why cannot you have plenty to eat ?"
Because father is ill of a fever, and can't work this har.
vest; so mother says we must all starve, if God Almighty
does not take care of us."
Tommy made no answer, but ran full speed to the house,
when he presently returned, loaded with a loaf of bred,
and a complete suit of his own clothes.
Here, little boy," said he, you were very good-natured





44 8ANDPORD AND MERTON.

to me; and so I will give you all this, because I am a gen-
tleman, and have many more."
Nothing could equal the joy which appeared in the boy's
countenance at receiving this present, excepting what Tommy
himself felt for the first time at the idea of doing a generous
action. He strutted away without waiting for the little boy's
acknowledgments, and, happening to meet Mr. Barlow, as he
was returning home, told him, with an air of exultation, what
he had done. Mr. Barlow coolly answered, You have done
very well in giving the little boy clothes, because they are
own: but what right have you to give away my loaf of
bread without asking my consent 1"
Why, sir," replied Tommy, "I did it because the little
boy said he was very hungry, and had seven brothers and
sisters, and that his father was ill, and could not work."
This is a very good reason why you should give them
what belongs to yourself; but not why you should give away
what is another's. What would you say, if Harry were to
give away all your clothes, without asking your leave ?"
"I should not like it at all, sir. and I will not give away
your things any more without asking your leave."
You will do well," said Mr. Barlow; '* and here is a little
story you may read upon this very subject."

THE STORY OF CYRUS.

CYRus was a little boy of very good disposition and a very
humane temper. He had several masters, who endeavored to
teach him everything that was good; and he was educated
wjh several little boys about his own age. One evening, is
faAer asked him what he had done, or learned that day.





SANDFORD AND MERTON. 45

SSir," said Cyrus, "I was punished to-day for deciding un-
"sHow so?" said his father.
There were two boys," answered Cyrus, "one of whom
was a great, and the other a little boy. Now it happened,
that the little boy had a coat that was much too big for him;
but the great boy had one that scarcely reached beldw his
middle, and was too tight for him in every part: upon which.
the great boy proposed to the little boy to change coats with
him,' because then,' said he, we shall be both exactly fitted;
for your coat is as much too big for you, as mine is too little
for me.'
The little boy would not consent to the proposal; on which,
the great boy took his coat away by force, and gave his own
to the little boy in exchange. While they were disputing
upon this subject, I chanced to pass by, and they agreed to
make me judge of the affair. But I decided, that the little
boy should keep the little coat, and the great .boy the great
one; for which judgment my master punished me."
"Why so ?" said Cyrus' father; "was not the little coat
most proper for the little boy, and the large coat for the great
boy ?"
"Yes, sir," answered Cyrus; but my master told me, I
was not made judge to examine which coat best fitted either
of the boys, but to decide whether it was just that the great
boy should take away the coat of the little one against his
consent; and therefore I decided unjustly, and deservbd to
be punished."
lte story was finished, they were surprised to see
a. K ed boy come running up to them, with a bundle
nder his Qp: hiseyes were black, as if he had





46 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

been severely beaten; his nose was swelled, his shirt was
bloody, and his waistcoat did but just hang upon his back-
so much was it torn. He came running up to Tommy, and
threw down the bundle before him, saying, Here, master,
take your clothes again; and I wish that they had been at
the bottom of the ditch I pulled you out of, instead of upon
my back: but I never will put such frippery on again, as
long as I have breath in my body."
"What is the matter?" said Mr. Barlow, who perceived
that some unfortunate accident had happened in consequence
of Tommy's present.
"Sir," answered the little boy, "my little master here was
going to beat me, because I would not fetch his ball. Now
as to the matter of that, I would have brought his ball with
all my heart, if he had but asked me civilly. But, though I
am poor, I am not bound to be his slave, as they say black
William is; and so I would not: upon which, little master
here was jumping over the hedge to lick me; but, instead of
that, he soused into the ditch, and there he lay rolling about,
till I helped him out: and so he gave me these clothes here,
all out ofgood will; and I put them on, like a fool as I was;
for they are all made of silk, and look so fine, that all the lit-
tle boys followed me, and hallooed as I went; and Jack
Dowset threw a handful of dirt at me, and dirtied me all over.
* Oh I' says I,' Jacky, are you at that work ?'-and with that
I hit him a punch in the stomach, and sent him roaring away.
But Billy Gibson and Ned Kelly came up, and said I looked
like a Frenchman; and so we began fighting. and I beat them
till they both gave out; but I don't choose to be hallooed after
wherever I go, and look like a Frenchman; and soel have
brought master his clothes again."
Mr. Barlow asked the little boy where his fathr. ivd;






SANDFORD AND MERTON. 47

and he told him, that his father lived about two miles off
across the common, and at the end of Runny-lane. On
which, Mr. Barlow told Harry, that he would send the poor
man some broth and victuals, if he would carry it when it
was ready.
That I will," said Harry, if it were five times as far."
So Mr. Barlow went into the house to give orders about it
In the mean time, Tommy, who had eyed the little boy for
some time in silence, said, "So, my poor boy, you have been
beaten and hurt, till you are all over blood, only because I
gave you my clothes ? I am really very sorry for it"
"Thank you, little master," said the boy; but it can't be
helped; you did not intend me any hurt, I know; and I am
not such a chicken as to mind a beating: so I wish you a
good afternoon with all my heart"
As soon as the little boy Was gone, Tommy said, "I wish
I had some good clothes that the poor boy could wear, for he
seems very good-natured, I wouMlgive them to him."
Those you may very easily have," said Harry; "for there
is a shop in the village hard by, where they sell all manner
of clothes for the poor people: and, as you have money, you
may easily buy some."
Harry and Tommy then agreed to go early the next morn-
ing, to buy some clothes for the poor children. They accord-
ingly set out before breakfast, and had proceeded nearly half
way, when they heard the noise of a pack of hounds that
seemed to be running full cry at some distance. Tommy
then asked Harry if he knew what they were about.
"Yes," said Harry, "I know well enough what they are
about; it is Squire Chase and his dogs worrying a poor hare.
But I wonder they are not ashamed to meddle with such a
poor inoffensive creature, that cannot defend itself; if they





48 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

have a mind to hunt, why don't they hunt lions, and tigers,
and such fierce, mischievous creatures, as I have read they do
in other countries ?"
Oh, dear I" said Tommy, how is that? It must surely
be very dangerous."
Why, you must know," said Harry, the men are accus-
tomed in some places, to go almost naked; and that makes
them so prodigiously nimble, that they can run like deer.
and, when a lion or tiger comes into their neighborhood, and
devours their sheep or oxen, they go out six or seven together,
armed with javelins; and they run over all the woods and
examinee every place till they have found him; and they make
a noise to provoke him to attack them: then he begins roar-
ing and foaming, and beating his sides with his tail, till, in a
violent fury, he springs at the man who is nearest to him."
Oh, dear!" said Tommy, Gbe must certainly be torn to
pieces."
No such thing," answer Harry; he jumps like a grey-
hound out of the way, whiu the next man throws his javelin
at the lion, and perhaps wounds him in the side: this enrages
him still more. He springs again, like lightning, upon the
man that wounded him; but this man avoids him like the
other; and at last the poor beast drops down dead, with the
number of wounds he has received."
Oh I" said Tommy, it must be a very strange sight. I
should like to see it out of a window, where I was safe."
"So should not I," answered Harry; "for it. must be a
great pity to see such a noble animal tortured and killed;
but they are obliged to do it in their own defence. But these
poor hares do nobody any harm. excepting the farmers, by
eating a little of their corn sometimes."
As they were talking in this manner, Harry, casting his





8ANDl ORD AND MERTON. 49

eyes on one side, said, "As I am alive, there is the poor
hare skulking alon I I hope they will not be able to find
her; and, if they as, me, I will never toll them which way
she is gone."
Presently up came the dogs, who had now lost all scent of
their game. and a gentleman mounted upon a fine horse, who
asked Harry, if he had seen the hare? Harry made no an-
swer; but, upon the gentleman's repeating the question in a
louder tone of voice, he answered. that he had.
"And which way is sht gone ?" said the gentleman.
"Sir, I don't choose to tell you," answered Harry, after
some hesitation.
"Not choose I" said the gentleman, leaping off his hore;
"but I'll make you choose it in an instant,"--and, coming p
to Harry, who never moved from the place where he had been
standing, began to lash hi% in a most unmerciful manner
with his whip, continually repeating, Now I you little rascal,
do you choose to tell me now ?"
To which, Harry made no br answer than this-" If I
would not tell you before, I wIh't now, though you should
kill me."
But this fortitude of Harry, and th4 tears of Tommy, who
cried in the bitterest manner to see the distress of his friend,
made no impression on this barbarian; who continued his
brutality till another gentleman rode up at full speed, and
said, For God's sake, Squire, what are you about You will
kill the child, if you do not take care."
And the little dog deserves it," said the other; "he has
seen the hare, and will not tell me which way she is gone."
"Take care," replied the other, in a low voice, "you
don't involve yourself in a disagreeable affair; I know the
other to be the son of a gentleman of great fortune in the






50 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

neighborhood,"-and then, turning to Harry, he said, "Why,
my dear, would not you' tell the gentleman which way the
hare had gone, ifyou saw her?"
Because," answered Harry, as soon as he had recovered
breath enough to speak, I don't choose to betray the unfor-
tunate."
This boy," said the gentleman, is a prodigy; and it is
a happy thing for you, Squire, that his age is not equal to his
spirit-but you are always passionate."
At this moment the hounds recovered the scent; and burst-
ing into a full cry, the Squire mounted his horse, and galloped
away, attended by all his companions.
When they were gone, Tommy came up to Harry in the
most affectionate manner, and asked him how he did?
A little sore," said Harry; but that does not signify."
"I wish I had had a pistol or sword I" said Tommy.
"Why, what would you have done with it?" asked Harry.
I would have killed that good-for-nothing man who treated
you so cruelly," replied Tony.
That would have been wrong, Tommy; for I am sure
he did not want to kill me. Indeed, if I had been a man, he
should not have used me so; but it is all over now, and
we ought to forgive our enemies, as Mr. Barlow tells us
Christ did; and then perhaps they may come to love us and
be sorry for what they have done."
But how could you bear to be so severely whipped with-
out crying out 1" asked Tommy.
"Why, crying out would hve done me no good at all,
would it ? And this is nothing to what many little boys
have suffered without ever flinching or bemoaning them-
selves."
Well, I should have thought it a great deal."






BANDVORD AND MERTON.


Oh I it's nothing to what the young Spartans used to sf-
fer," answered Harry.
"Who were they asked Tommy.
"Why, you must know they were a very brave set of peo-
ple, that lived a great while ago: and, as they were but few
in number, and were surrounded by a great many enemies,
they used to endeavor to make their little boys very brave
and hardy: and these little boys used to be always running
about, half naked, in the open air, and wrestling and jump-
ing, and exercising themselves; and they had very coarse
food, and hard beds to lie upon, and were never pampered
and indulged: and all this made them so strong and hardy
and brave, that the like was never seen."
"What, and had they no coaches to ride in, nor sweetmeats,
nor wine, nor anybody to wait upon them ?" asked Tommy.
"Oh dear, no; their fathers thought that would spoil
them; and so they all fared alike, and ate together in great
rooms, and there they were taughtto behave orderly and de-
cently; and, when dinner was over, they all went to play to-
gether; and if they committed any faults they were severely
whipped; but they never minded it, and scorned to cry out,
or make a wry face."
As they were conversing in this manner, they approached
the village, where Tommy laid out all his money, amounting
to fifteen shillings and sixpence, in buying some clothes for
the little ragged boy and his brothers, which were made up
in a bundle and given to him: but he desired Harry to carry
them for him.
"That I will," said Harry; but why don't you choose to
cary them yourself?"
"Why, it is not right for a gentleman to carry things him-
seM;" answered Tommy:





59 8ANDFORD AND MBRTON.

"Why, what hurt does it do him, if he is but strong
enough 7" asked Harry.
do not know; but I believe it is that he may not look
like the common people."
Then he should not have hands, or feet, or eyes, or ears,
or mouth, because the common people have the same."
"No, no; he must have all these, because they are use-
ful," said Tommy.
And is it not useful to be able to do things for ourselves?"
asked Harry.
Yes; but gentlemen have others to do what they want
for them."
Then I should think it must be a bad thing to be a gen-
tleman."
"Why so?"
Because, if all were gentlemen, nobody would do any-
thing, and then we should be all starved."
"Starved I" cried Tommy.
"Yes," said Harry; why you could not live, could you,
without bread?"
"No, I know that very well."
And bread is made of a plant that grows in the earth,
and is called wheat"
"Why then, I would gather it and eat it," said Tommy.
Why, then you must do something for yourself: but that
would not do; for wheat is a small hard grain, like the oats
which you have sometimes given to Mr. Barlow's horse; and
you would not like to eat them."
"No, certainly: but how comes bread then?" asked
Tommy.
Why, they send the wheat to the milL"
"What is a mill ?"






SANDPORD AND MERTON. a8

What, did you never see a mill ?"
No, never; but I should like to see one, that I may know
how to make bread."
There is one at a little distance; and if you ask Mr. Bat .
low, he will go with you, for he knows the miller very well"
"That I will, for I should like to see them make bread,"
said Tommy.
As they were conversing in this manner, they heard a
great outcry, and turning their heads, saw a horse galloping
violently along, and dragging his rider along with him, who
had fallen off, and, in falling, hitched his foot in the stirrup.
Luckily for the person, it happened to be wet ground, and
the side of a hill, which prevented the horse from going very
fast, and the rider from being much hurt. But Harry, who
was always prepared to do any act of humanity, even with
the danger of his life, and, besides that, was a boy of very
extraordinary courage and agility, ran up towards a fence
which he saw the horse approaching, and just as he made a
little pause before he vaulted over, caught him by the bridle,
and effectually stopped him from proceeding. In an instant,
another gentleman came up with two or three servants, who
alighted from their horses, disengaged the fallen person, and
set him upon his legs. He stared wildly around him for some
time: as he was not materially hurt, he soon recovered his
senses, and the first use he made of them, was to swear at
his horse; and to ask who had stopped the confOunded jade7
"Who?" said his friend: "why the very little boy that
you used so scandalously this morning: had it not been for
his dexterity and courage, that numskull of yours would have
had more flaws in it than it ever had before"
The Squire looked at Harry with a cousteance in which
shase and humiliation seemed yet to struggle with his nat
4





64 8ANDFORD AND MERTON.

ural insolence; but at length, putting his hand into his pocket,
he pulled out a guinea, which he offered to Harry, telling him
at the same time, he was very sorry for what had happened:
but Harry, with a look of more contempt than he had ever
been seen to assume before, rejected the present, and taking
up the bundle which he had dropped at the time be seized
the Squire's horse, walked away, accompanied by his com-
panion.
As it was not far out of their way, they agreed to call at
the poor man's cottage, whom they found much better, as Mr.
Barlow had been there the preceding night, and given him
such medicines as he judged proper for his disease. Tommy
then asked for the little boy, and on his coming in, told him
that he had now brought him some clothes which he might
wear without fear of being called a Frenchman, as well as
some more for his little brothers. The pleasure with which
they were received, was so great, and the acknowledgments
and blessings of the good woman and thepoor man, who had
just begun to sit up, were so many, that little Tommy could
not help shedding tears of compassion, in which he was joined
by Harry. As they were returning, Tommy said he had
never spent any money with a much please a that with
which he had purchased clothes for this poor family; and
that for the future he would carefully keep all the money that
was given him, for that purpose, instead of laying it out in
eatables and play-things.
Some few days after this, as Mr. Barlow and the two boys
were walking out together, they happened to pass near a
windmill; and on Harry's telling Tommy what it was,
Tommy desired leave to go into it, and look at it Mr. Bar-
low consented to this; and being acquainted with the miller,
they all went in, and examined every part of it with great






8ANDPORD AND MERTON. 66

ruriosity: and there little Tommy saw, with astonishment,
that the sails of the mill, being continually turned round by
the wind, moved a great flat stone, which, by rubbing upon
another stone, bruised all the wheat that was put between
them, till it became a fine powder.
Oh, dear !" said Tommy, "is this the way they make
bread ?"
Mr. Barlow told him, this was the method by which wheat
was prepared for making bread; but that many other things
were necessary before it arrives at that state: "you see that
what runs from these mill-stones is only a fine powder, very
different from bread, which is a solid and tolerably hard sub-
stance."
As they were going home, Harry said to Tommy, o
you see now, that if nobody chose to work, or do anything for
himself, we should have no bread to eat: but you could not
even have the wheat to make it of without a great deal of
pains and labor."
Why not ? does not wheat grow in the ground of itself "
asked Tommy.
" Wheat grows in the ground; but then first it is necessary
to plough the ground to break it to pieces," answered Harry.
What is ploughing 1" asked Tommy.
Did you never see three or four horses drawing some-
thing along the fields in a straight lin, while one man drove
and another walked behind, holding the thing by twohands'"
inquired Harry.
S"Yes, I have, and is that ploughing?"
"It is," said Harry;" and there is a sharp iron underneath
which runs into the ground, and turns up the earth."
"Well, and what then ?"
Whn the ground is thus prepared, they sow the seed all





86 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

over it, and then they rake it over to cover the seed; and then
the seed begins to grow, and shoots up very high; and at last
the wheat npls, and they reap it and carry it home,"
"I protest," said Tommy, it must be very curious, and I
should like to sow some seed myself and see it grow: do you
think I could ?"
Yes, certainly; and if you will dig the ground to-morrow
I will go home to my father, in order to procure some seed
for you."
The next morning Tommy was up almost as soon as it was
light, and went to work in a corner of the garden, where he
dug with great perseverance till breakfast; when he came in
he could not help telling Mr. Barlow what he had done, and
asking him if he was not a very good boy for working so hard
to raise wheat ?-" That," said Mr. Barlow, "depends upon
the use you intend to make of it when you have raised it.
What is it you intend doing with it ?"
"Why, sir," said Tommy, I intend sending it to the mill
that we saw and having it ground into flour; and then I will
get you to show me how to make bread of it; and then I will
eat it, that I may tell my father that I have eaten bread out
of wheat of my own sowing."
"That will be very well done," said Mr. Barlow, "but
where will be the great g6odnes that you sow wheat for
your own eating ? that is no more than all the people round
continually do; and if they did not do it, they would be obliged
to fast"
But then," said Tommy, they are not gentlemen as I
am."
"What then," answered Mr. Barlow, "must not gentlems
eat as well as others, and therefore is it not for their interest
to know how to procure food as well as other people I"






IANDPORD AND MURTON.

"Yes, sir," answered Tommy, "but they can have other
people to raise it for them, so that they are not obliged to
work for themselves."
"How does that happen ?" said Mr. Barlow.
Why, sir, they pay other people to work for them, or buy
bread when it is made, as much as they want."
Then they pay for it with money."
Yes, sir."
"Then they must have money before they can buy corn "
"Certainly, sir."
But have all gentlemen money 7"
Tommy hesitated some time at this question: at last he
said: I believe not always, sir."
Why then," said Mr. Barlow, if they have not money,
they will find it difficult to procure corn, unless they raise it
for themselves "
Indeed," said Tommy," I believe they will; for perhaps
they may not find any one good-natured enough to give it to
them."
" But," said Mr. Barlow, as we are talking upon this sub-
ject, I will tell you a story I read a little time past, if you
choose to hear it."
Tommy said he should be very glad if Mr. Barlow would
take the trouble of telling it to him; and Mr. Barlow told th .
following history of

THE TWO BROTHERS.
ABorr the time that many people went over to South
America, with the hopes of finding gold and silver, there was
a Spaniard, whose name was Pizarro, who had a greattclina-
tion to try his fortune like the rest; but, as he ad an elder






88 8ANDPORD AND MgITON.

brother, for whom he had a very great affection, he went to
him, told him his design, and solicited him very much to go
along with him-promising. that he should have an equal
share of all they found. The brother, whose name was
Alonzo, was a man of a contented temper, and a good under-
standing; he did not therefore much approve of the project,
and endeavored to dissuade Pizarro from it, by setting before
him the danger to which he exposed himself, and the uncer-
tainty of his succeeding: but. finding all that he said to him
was vain, he agreed to go with him; but told him at the same
time, that he wanted no part of the riches which he might find,
and would ask no other favor than to have his baggage and a
few servants taken on board the vessel with him. Pizarro
then sold all that he had, bought a vessel, and embarked with
several other adventurers; who had all great expectations,
like himself, of soon becoming rich. As to Alonzo, he took
nothing with him but a few ploughs, harrows, and other tools,
and some corn, together with a large quantity of potatoes, and
some seeds of vegetables. Pizarro thought this a very odd
preparation for a voyage; but as he did not think proper to
expostulate with his brother, he said nothing.
After sailing for some time with prosperous winds, they
put into the last port where they were to stop, before they
came to the country where they were to search for gold. Here
Pizarro bought a great number more of pickaxes, shovels, and
various other tools for digging, melting, and refining the gold
he expected to find; besides hiring an additional number of
laborers to assist him in tha work. Alonzo, on the contrary,
bought only a few sheepand four stout ozea, with thir
harness, and food enough to subsist them till they hould r-
rive at land.
As it happened, they had a very favorable voyage; and





NANDPORD AND MERTON. .0

all landed in perfect health in America. Alono then told
his brother, that as he had only come to accompany and
serve him, he would stay near the shore with his servants
and catte, while he went to search for gold; and, when he
had acquired a much as he desired, should be always ready
to embark for Spain with him.
Pizarro accordingly set out, not without feeling so great a
contempt for his brother, that he could not help expressing it
to his companions. "I always thought," said he, "that my
brother had been a man of sense; he bore that character in
Spain, but I find people were strangely mistaken in him.
Here he is going to divert himself with his sheep and his
oxen, as if he were living quietly upon his farm at home, and
had nothing else to do than to raise cucumbers and melons.
But we know better what to do with our time: so come along,
my lads; and, if we have but good luck, we shall oon be en-
riched for the rest of our live."
All that were present applauded Pizarro's speech, and de-
clared themselves ready to follow wherever he went; only
one old Spaniard shook his head as he went, and told him ha
doubted whether he would find his brother so great a fool a
he thought
They then traveled on several day' march into the coun-
try: sometimes, obliged to cro rivers, at others, to par
mountains and forests, where they could find no paths; some-
times, scorched by the violent heat of the sun, and then wet-
ted to the skin by violent showers of rain. These difficulties
however, did not discourage them so much as to hinder them
from trying in several places for gold; which they were at
length lucky enough to find in considerable quantity. This
success animated them very much, and they continued work.
if upon that spot till all their provisions were consumed.





gO 8ANDPORD AND MBRTON.

they gathered daily large quantities of ore, but then they suf
feared very much from hunger. 8iill, however, they pese-
vered in their labors, and sustained themselves with such roots
and berries as they could find. At last, even this resource
failed them; and after several of their company had died from
want and hardship, the rest were just able to crawl back to
the place where they had left Alonzo-carrying with them
the gold, to acquire which they had suffered so many miseries.
But, while they had been employed in this manner, Alonzo,
who foresaw what would happen, had been industriously
toiling to a very different purpose. His skill in husbandry
had easily enabled him to find a spot of considerable extent
and very fertile soil, which he ploughed up with the oxen he
had brought with him, and the assistance of his servants.
He then sowed the different seeds he had brought, and plant-
ed the potatoes, which prospered beyond what he could have
expected, and yielded him a most abundant harvest. His
sheep he had turned out in a very fine meadow near the
and every one of them had brought him a couple of lamb;n
Besides that, he and his servants, at leisure times, employed
themselves in fishing: and the fish they had caught were all
dried and salted with salt they had found upon the sea-shore;
so that by the time of Pizarro's return, they had laid up a
considerable quantity of provisions.
When Pizarro returned, his brother received him with the
greatest cordiality, and asked him what success he had had?
Pizarro told him that they had found an immense quantity of
gold; but that several of his companions had perished and
that the rest were almost starved for the want of provisions:
be then requested that his brother would immediately give
him something to eat, as he assured him he had tasted no
food for the last two days, excepting the roots and bark of






8ANDFORD AND MBETON. 61

trees. Alonso then very coolly answered that -he should re-
member, that when they set out they had made an agreement,
that neither should interfere with the other; that he had nev-
er desired to have any share of the gold which Pisrro might
acquire; and therefore he wondered that Pizarro should ex-
pect to be supplied with the provisions that he had procured
with so much care and labor.-" But," added he, "if pa
choose to exchange some of the gold you have found for pro-
visions, I shall perhaps be able to accommodate you."-Pi-
zarro thought this behavior very unkind in his brother: but,
as he and his companions were almost starved; they were
obliged to comply with his demands, which were so exorbi-
tant, that in a very short time they parted with all the gold
they had brought with them merely to purchase food. Alon-
zo then proposed to his brother to embark for Spain in the
vessel which had brought them thither, as the winds and
weather seemed to be most favorable; but Pinio, with an
angry look, told him, that, since he had deprived him df every-
thing he had gained, and treated him in so unfriendly a man,
ner,be should go without him; for as to himself he would
rather perish upon that desert shore, than embark with so in-
human a brother. But Alonzo, instead of resenting these
reproaches, embraced his brother with the greatest tendermes,
and spoke to him in the following manner: "Could you then
believe, my dearest Pizarro, that I really meant to deprive'
you of the fruits of all your labors, which you have acquired
with so much toil and danger t Rather may all the gold in
the universe perish, than that I should be capable of such be-
havior to my dearest brother I But I saw the rash, impetuous
desire you had for riches, and wished to correct this fault in
you, and serve you at the same time. You despised my pru-
dence and industry, and imagined that nothing could be want






( SANDFORD AND MBaTON.

ing to him that once acquired wealth; but you have now
learned, that without that foresight and industry, all the gol
you have brought with you would not have prevented you
romperishing miserably. You are now, I hope, wiser; and
therefore take back your riches. which I hope you have now
learned to make a proper use of."-Pizarro wu equally filled
with gratitude and astonishment at this generosity of his
brother, and he acknowledged from experience, that indus-
try was better than gold. They then embarked for Spain,
where they all safely arrived: during the voyage, Pizarro
often solicited his brother to accept of half his riches, which
Alonzo constantly refused, telling him, that he who could
raise food enough to maintain himself, was in no want of
gold.
SIndeed" said Tommy, when Mr. Barlow had finished the
story, "I think Alonzo was a very sensible man; and if it
had noteen for him, his brother and all his companions must
have been starved; but then this was only because they were
in a desert uninhabited country. This could never have hap-
pened in England; there they could always have had as much
n or bread as they chose, for their money."
"But," said Mr. Barlow, is a man sure to be always in
England, or some place where he can purchase bread "
"I believe so, sir," answered Tommy.
"Why, are there not countries in the world, where there
are no inhabitants, and where no corn is raised asked Mr.
Barlow.
"Certainly, sir," answered Tommy, "this country which
the two brothers went to was such a place."
SAnd there are many other such countries in the world,"
aid Mr. Barlow.






BANDPORD AND MRITON. a8

aYes, sir, but then a man need not go to them; he may
stay at home."
Then he must not pas the sea in a ship"
U Why so, sirt" asked Tommy.
"Because, the ship may happen to be wrecked some
such country where there are no inhabitants; l j al-
though he should escape the dangers of the sea, what wi he
do for food?"
"And have such accidents sometimes happened ?" inquired
Tommy.
"Yes, several: there was, in particular, one Selkirk, who
was hipwrecked, and obliged to live several years upon a
desert island."
That was very extraordinary indeed, sir; and how did he
get victuals "
"He sometimes procured roots; sometimes fruits: he also
at last became so activethat he was able to pursue and catch
wild goats with which the island abounded."
"And did not such a hard, disagreeable way of life kill
him at lat 7" asked Tommy.
By no means: he never enjoyed better health in his life:
and I have heard that he became so active as to be able to
overtake the very wild beasts. But a still more extraordinary
story is that of some Russians, who were left on the coast of
Spitsbergen, where they were obliged to stay several years.
Spitsbergen is a country very far to the north, which is con-
stantly covered with snow and ice, because the weather is
unremittingly sever Scarcely any vegetables will grow
upon the oil, and scarcely any animals are fwad in the
eomatry. To add to thi, a gret part of the year it is cov-
end with perpetual darkness, and is inacceble to ships:
so that it is impossible to conceive a more dreary country, or





64 SANDPORD AND MERTON.

where it must be more difficult to support human life. Yet
four men were capable of struggling with all these difficulties
during several years, and three of them returned at last safe
to there own country."
This must be a very curious story indeed," said Tommy,
Sand I would give anything to be able to se it"
That you may very easily," replied Mr. Barlow, when
I read it, I copied out several parts of it, I thought it so cu-
rious and interesting, which I can easily find, and will show
you. Here it is; but it is necessary first to inform you, that
those northern seas, from the intense cold of the climate, are
so full of ice, as frequently to render it extremely dangerous
to ships, lest they should be crushed between two pieces of
immense size, or so completely surrounded, as not to be able
to extricate themselves. Having given you this previous in-
formation, you will easily understand the distressing situation
of a Russian ship, which, as it was sailing in those seas, was
on a sudden so surrounded by ice, as not to be able to move.
My extracts begin here;. and you may read them.

Etractsfrom a Narratiw of te teetraordhary Adventures
of bwr Russian Sailors, who wer cast away on the Des-
ert Island of East Spitsbergen.
'-In this alarming state (that is, when the ship was sur-
rounded with ice,) a council was held; when the mate,
Alexis Hinkof informed them, that he recollected to have
heard, that some of the people of Mesen, some time before
havb farned a resolution of wintering upon this island, had
mid from that city timber proper for building a hut, sd
had actually erected one at some distance from the sheS
This information induced the whole comply to resolveg





SANDOIRD AND MUITON. s6

wintering there, if the ht, a they hoped, till exited; fr
they clearly perceived the imminent danger thy wen in and
they must inevitably perish if they continued in the dhip
They despatched, therefore, four of their crew in search of
the ut, or any other succor they could meet with These
were Alexis Hinkof the mate, Iwan Hinko his gods%, Sto-
phen Scaranof and Feodor Weregin.
SAs the shore on which they were to land was uninhabited,
it was necessary that they should make some provision for
their expedition. They had almost two miles to travel over
those ridges of ice, which being raed by the waves, and
driven against each other by the wind, rendered the way
equally difficult and dangerous; prudence, therefore, forbade
their loading themselves too much, lest, by being overbur-
dened, they might sink in between the pieces of ice and per-
ish. Having thus maturely considered the nature of their
undertaking, they provided themselves with a musket and
powder-horn, contaming twelve charge powder, with as
many balls, an axe, a small kettle, a bg with about twenty
pounds of four; a knife a tinder-box and tinder, a bladder
lled with tobpo, and every man his wooden pipe. -
U Thus accotmed, these four ailors quickly arrived on the
island, little suspecting the mifortunes that would befal them.
They began with exploring the country, and soon discovered
the hut tey were in search of about an English mile and a
half fro the shore. It was thirty4ix feet in lengtheighteen
feet in height, and as many in breadth: it contained a small
ante-chamber, about twelve feet broad, which had two doors,
the one to shut it up from the outer air, the other to orm a
communication with the inner room: thi contributed greatly
to keep the large room warm when once heated. In the
large room wa a earthen tore, constructed in the wNBI






66 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

manner; that is, a kind of oven without a chimney, which
served occasionally either for baking, for heating the room,
or, as is customary among the Russian peasants in very cold
weather, for a place to sleep upon. Our adventurers rejoiced
greatly at having discovered the hut; which had, however,
suffered much from the weather, it having now been built a
considerable time: they, however, contrived to pass the night
in it
"Early next morning they hastened to the shore, impa-
tient to inform their comrades of their success, and also, to
procure from their vessel such provision, ammunition, and
other necessaries, as might better enable them to winter on
the island. I leave my readers to figure to themselves the
astonishment and agony of mind these poor people must have
felt, when, on reaching the place of their landing, they saw
nothing but an open sea, free from the ice which but a day
before had covered the ocean. A violent storm, which had
arisen during the night, had certainly been the cause of this
disastrous event: but they could not tell whether the ice,
which had before hemmed in the vessel, agitated by the vio-
lence of the waves, had been driven against her, and shattered
her to pieces: or whether she had been carried by the current
into the main, a circumstance which frequently happens in
those seas. Whatever accident had befallen the ship, they
saw her no more: and, as no tidings were ever afterwards re-
ceived of her, it is most probable that she sunk, and that all
on board of her perished.
"This melancholy event depriving the unhappy wretches
of all hope of ever being able to quit the island, they returned
to the hut, whence they had come, full of horror and despair."

Oh I dear," cried Tommy at this passage, what a dread-





SANDPORD AND MERTON. 6'.

ful situation these poor people must have been in I To be in
such a cold country, covered with snow and frozen with ice,
without anybody to help them, or give them victuals: I
should think they must all have died."
"That you will soon see," said Mr. Barlow, "when you
have read the rest of the story: but tell me one thing, Tom-
my, before you proceed. These four men were poor sailors,
who had always been accustomed to danger and hardships,
and to work for their living; do you think it would have been
better for them to have been bred up gentlemen; that is, to do
nothing, but to have other people wait upon them in every-
thing ?"
hy. to be sure," answered Tommy, "it was much bet-
ter for them that they had been used to work; for that might
enable them to contrive and do something to assist them-
selves; for, without doing a great deal, they must certainly all
have perished."

Their first attention was employed, as may easily be imag-
ined, in devising means of providing subsistence and for.repair-
ing their hut The twelve charges of powder which they
had brought with them, soon procured them as many rein-
deer, the island, fortunately for them, abounding in these ani-
mals. I have before observed, that the hut, which the sailors
were so fortunate as to find, had sustained some damage, and
it was this: there were cracks in many places between the
boards of the building, which freely admitted the air. This
inconvenience was, however, easily remedied, as they had an
axe, and the beams were still sound (for wood in those cold
climates continues through a length of years unimpaired by
worms or decay;) so it was easy for them to make the boards
join again very tolerably; besides, moss growing in great






edO ANDPORD AND MttTON.

abundance all over the island, there was more than sufficient
to stop up the crevices, which wooden houses must always be
liable to. Repairs of this kind cost the unhappy men les
trouble, as they were Russians: for all Russian peasants are
known to be good carpenters; they build their own houses,
and are very expert in handling the axe. The intense cold,
which makes these climates habitable to so few species of ani-
mals, renders them equally unfit for the production of vege-
tables. No species of tree or even shrub is found in any of
the islands of Spitzbergen: a circumstance of the most alarm-
ing nature to our sailors.
Without fire, it was impossible to resist the rigor of the cli-
mate; and, without wood, how was that fire to be produced or
supported? However, in wandering along the beach, they
clted plenty of wood, which had been driven ashore by
the waves, and which at first consisted of the wrecks of ships,
and afterward of whole trees with their roots, the pidduce of
some more hoitable (but to them unknown) climate, which
e oveflowings of rivers, or some other accidents, had sent
o the ocean. Nothing proved of more essential service to
Sunfortunate men, during the first year of their exile,
tl aome boards they found upon the beach, having along
tI hook, some nails of about five or six inches long and
Porti Wabl thick, and other bits of old iron, fixed in them,
se eloly relies of some vessels, cast away in those re-
mote parts. These were thrown ashore by the waves, at the
time when the want of powder gave our men reason to appre-
hend that they must fall a prey to hunger, as they had nearly
consull the rein-deer they had killed. This lucky circum-
stance .- attended with another equally fortunate: they
found J shore the root of a fir-tree, which nearly ap
roach i tothe figure of a bow. As necessity has eer boe





LANDLORD AND MKRTON.


the mother of invention, they soon fashioned this root to a
good bow by the help 'of a knife: but still they wanted a
string.and arrows. Not knowing how to procure these at
present, they resolved upon making a couple of lances, to
defend themselves against the white bears, by far the most
ferocious of their kind, whose attacks they had great reason
to dread. Finding they could neither make the heads of
their lances nor of their arrows, without the help of a ham-
mer, they contrived to form the above mentioned large iron
hook into one, by beating it, and widening a hole it happened
to have about its middle, with the help of one of their largest
nails; this received the handle, and a round button at one
end of the hook served for the face of the hammer. A large
pebble supplied the face of an anvil, and a couple of rem-
deer's horns made the tongs. By the means of such tools,
they made two heads of spears: and, after polishing and,,
sharpening them on stones, they tied them, a fast as possi-
ble, with thongs made of rein-deer skins, to sticks about the
thickness of a man's arm, which they got from some branches
of trees that had been cast on shore. Thus equipped with
spears, they resolved to attack a white bear; and, alter a most
dangerous encounter, they killed the formidable creature, and
thereby gained a new supply of provisions. The flesh of this
animal they relished exceedingly, as they thought it much
resembled beef in taste and flavor. The tendons, they saw
with much pleasure, could with little or no trouble be divided
into filaments of whatever fineness they thought fit. This
perhaps was the most fortunate discovery these men could
have made; for, besides other advantages. -which will be
hereafter mentioned, they were thereby furnished with strings
for their bow.
The success of our unfortunate islanders in making the
6






72 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

spears, and the use these proved of, encouraged them to pro-
ceed, and to forge some pieces of iron into heads of arrows
of the same shape, though somewhat smaller in size than the
spears above mentioned. Having ground and sharpened
these like the former, they tied them with the sinews of the
white bear to pieces of fir, to which, by the help of fine
threads of the same, they fastened feathers of the sea fowl ;
and thus became possessed of a complete bow and arrows.
Their ingenuity in this respect was crowned with success far
beyond their expectation; for. during the time of their con-
tinuance upon the island, with these arrows they killed no
less than two hundred and fifty rein-deer, besides a great
number of blue and white foxes. The flesh of these ani-
mals served them also for food. and their skins for clothing,
and other necessary preservatives against the intense coldness
of a climate so near the Pole. They killed, however, not
more than ten white bears in all, and that not without the ut-
most danger; for those animals, being prodigiously strong,
defended themselves with astonishing vigor and fury. The
first our men attacked designedly; the other nine they slew
in defending themselves from their assaults; for some of these
creatures even ventured to enter the outer room of the hut, in
order to devour them. It is true that all the bears did not
show (if I may be allowed the expression) equal intrepidity,
either owing to some being less pressed by hunger, or to
their being by nature less carnivorous than the others; for
&oae of them which entered the hut, immediately betook
themselves to flight, on the first attempt of the sailors to drive
them away. A repetition, however, of these ferocious at-
tacks, threw the poor men into great terror and anxiety; as
they were in almost perpetual danger of being devoured."






SANDPORD AND MBITON. 78

Sure," exclaimed Tommy, such a life u that must have
been miserable and dreadful indeed."
Why so 1" sid Mr. Barlow.
"Because, sir, being always in danger of being devoured
by wild beasts, those men must have been always unhappy."
"And yet they were never devoured."
"No, sir; because they made weapons to defend them-
selves."
Perhap, then, a person is not unhappy, merely because
he i exposed to danger; for he may escape from it: but be-
cause he does not know how to defend himself"
I do not exactly understand you, sir."
I will give you an instance. Were you not very unhap-
py when the snake coiled itself round your leg, because ym
iagined it would bite you."
CIea, sir."
"But Harry was not unhappy."
u That is very true, air."
"And yet he was more in danger of being bitten than your-
self because he took hold of it."
"Indeed he did."
"But he knew, that by boldly seizing it, and singing it
away, he was in very little danger had you, thereor, known
the ame, you probably would neither have feared so much,
nor have been so unhappy as you were."
Indeed, air, that s true; and, were such an accident to
happen gain, I think I should have courage enough o
the cam".
"Would you, then, be as unhappy as you werehe t t
time ?"
"By no meu s; because I have a great deal more cour-
age"






74 BANDFORD AND MBRTON.

Why, then, persons that have courage are not so unhap-
py as those that are cowardly, when they are exposed to
danger ?"
"Certainly not, sir."
And that must be equally true in every kind of danger ?"
Indeed it must," said Tommy, for I have sometimes heard
my mother shriek out when she was passing in a coach
through a small stream of water, while my father only laugh-
ed at her."
Why, then, if she had possessed as much courage, per-
haps she would have laughed too."
"Indeed, I believe she might, sir, for I have sometimes
seen her laugh at herself when it was over, for being so cow-
ardly."
"Why, then, it is possible that when these men found
they were so able to defend themselves against the bears,
they might no longer be afraid of them; and, not being afraid,
they would not be unhappy."
"Indeed I believe so."
Let us now continue."

"The three different kinds of animals above-mentioned,
vil, the rein-deer, the blue and white foxes, and the white
beas, were the only food these wretched mariners tasted
during their continuance in this dreary abode. We do not at
once see every resource: it is generally necessity which
quickens our invention-opening by degrees our eyes, aid
pointing out expedients, which otherwise might never have
occurred to our thoughts. The truth of this observation our
four sailors experienced, in various instances. They were,
ir some time, reduced to the necessity of eating the meat
almost raw, and without either bread or salt, for they wer





BANDi ORD AND MBETON. 75

quite destitute of both. The intenseness of the cold, together
with the want of proper conveniences, prevented them from
cooking their victuals in a proper manner. There was but
one stove in the hut; and that, being set up agreeably to the
Russian taste, was more like an oven, and, consequently, not
well adapted to boiling anything. Wood, also, was too pe-
cious a commodity to be wasted in keeping up two fires; and
the one they might have made out of their habitation,to dress
their victuals, would, in no way, have served to warm them.
Another reason against their cooking in the open air, was,
the continual danger of an attack from the white bean. And
here I must observe, that, suppose they had made the attempt,
it would still have been practicable for only some part of the
year: for the cold, which in such a climate, for some months
scarcely ever abates, from the long absence of the sun then
enlightening the opposite hemisphere-the inconceivable
quantity of snow which is continually falling, through the
greatest part of the winter-together with the almost inces
Ssant rains, at certain seasons-ll these were almost insur-
mountable to that expedient To remedy, therefore, in some
degree, the hardship of eating their meat half raw, they be-
thought themselves of drying some of their provisions, during
the summer, in the open air; and afterwards, of hanging it
up in the upper part of the hut, which, as I mentioned beMe,
was continually filled with smoke down to the windows: it
was thus dried thoroughly, by the help of that smoke. This
meat so prepared, they used for bgead; and it made them
relish their other flesh the better, as they .could only half
dress it Finding this experiment answer in every respect,
to their wishes, they continued to practice it, during the
whole time of their confinement upon the island; and alwWj
kept up, by that means, a sufficient stock of provisions. Wa






76 8ANDPORD AND MERTON.

tor they had in summer, from small rivulets that fell from the
rocks; and in winter, from the snow and ice thawed. This
was of course their only beverage; and their small kettle
was the only vessel they could make use of for thi and
other purpose. I have mentioned above, that our sailors
brought a small bag of flour with them to the island. Of this
they had consumed about one half with their meat; the re-
mainder they employed in a different manner, equally useful
They soon saw the necesity of keeping up a continual fire in
so cold a climate, and found that, if it should unfortunately go
out, they had no means of lighting it again; for though they
had a steel and flints, yet they wanted both match and tinder.
In their excursion through the island, they had met with a
slimy loam, or kind of clay. nearly in the middle of it: out of
this they found means to form a utensil which might serve
for a lamp; and they proposed to keep it constantly burning
with the fat of the animals they should kill. This was cer-
tainly the most rational scheme they could have thought of;
for, to be without a light, in a climate where, during winter,'
darIkne reigns for several months together, would have
added much to their other calamities."
Pray, sir, stop," cried Tommy. What I are there coun-
trie in the world where it is night continually for several
months together 1"
"Indeed there are," aid Mr. Barlow.
"How can that be 1"
How happens it, that there is night at all 9"
How happens it, ir I It must be ao: mustit not?"
That is only saying, that you do not know the reason.
But do you observe no difference here, between the night and
day ?"





SANDFORD AND KBRTOW. 77

"Ye, sir; it is light in the day, and dark in the night"
And why is it dark in the night?"
"Really, I do not know, sir."
What I does the sun shine every night "
Certainly not, sir."
"Then it only shines on some nights, and not on others "
It never shines at all in the night"
"And does it in the day ?"
"Yes, ir."
"Every day ?"
S" Every day, I believe; only sometimes the clouds prevent
you from seeing it"
"And what becomes of it in the night ?"
"It goes away, so that we cannot see it"
o, then, when you can see the sun, it is never night?"
No, sir."
"But when the sun goes away, the night comes on?"
"Yes, sir."
"And when the sun comes again, what happens?"
Then it is day again; for I have seen the day break, and
the sun always rses presently after."
"Then if the sun were not to rise for several months to-
gether, what would happen ?"
"Sure it would always remain night, and be dark."
"That is exactly the case with the countries we are read-
ing about."
SHaving therefore fashioned a kind of lamp, they filled it
with rein-deer's fat and stuck into it some twisted line
shaped into a wick: but they had the mortification to fid,
that, as soon as the fat melted, it not only soaked into the
clay, but fairly run out of it on all sides. The thing, there






78 SANDPORD AND MBRTON.

fore, was to devise some means of preventing this inconven-
ience-not arising from cracks, but from the substance of
which the lamp was made being too porous. They made,
therefore, a new one, dried it thoroughly in the air, then
heated it red hot, and afterwards quenched'it in their kettle,
wherein they had boiled a quantity of flour down to the con-
sistence of thin starch. The lamp being thus dried, and filled
with melted fat, they now found, to their great joy, that it did
not leak; but, for greater security, they dipped linen rags in
their paste, and with them covered all its outside. Succeed-
ing in this attempt, they immediately made another lamp,
for fear of an accident, that, at all events, they might pot be
Destitute of light; and when they had done so much, they
thought proper to save the remainder of their flour for similar
ppopses. As they had carefully collected whatever happened
to be cast on shore, to supply them with fuel, they had found
amongt the wrecks of vessels, some cordage, and a small
Squantty of oakum (a kind of hemp used for calking ships)
which served them to make wicks for their lamps. When
these stores began to fail, their shirts and their drawers (which
are worn by all Russia peasants) were employed to make
up the deficiency. By these means, they kept their lamp
burning without intermission, from the day they first made
it (a work they set about soon after their arrival on the island)
until that of their embarkation for their native country.
The necessity of converting the mostessential part of their
clothing, such as their qjiirts and drawers, to the use above
s exposed them the more to the rigor of the climate.
also found themselves in want of shoes, boots, and other
of dress; and, as winter was approaching, they wee
again to have recourse to that ingenuity which necessity
suggests, and which seldom fails in the trying hour of dis-





.SANDPORD AND MBRTON.

tress. They had skins of rein-deer and foss in platy, that
had hitherto served them for bedding, and which they now
thought of employing in some more essential service; but the
question was how to tan them. After deliberating on thin
subject, they took the following method; they soaked the
skins for several days in fresh water, till they could pull off
the hair pretty easily; they then rubbed the wet leather with
their hands, till it was nearly dry, when they spread some
melted rein-deer fat over it, and again rubbed it well. By this
process, the leather became soft, pliant, and supple; proper
for answering every purpose they wanted it for. Those skins
which they designed for furs, they only soaked for one day, to
prepare them for being wrought: and then proceeded in the
manner before mentioned, except only that they did not remoe
the hair. Thus they soon provided themselves with the
necessary materials for all the parts of dress they wanted
But here another difficulty occurred: theyhad neither awls
for making shoes or boots, nor needles for sewing their gar-
ments. This want, however, they soon supplied, by means
of the pieces of iron they had occasionally collected. Out of
these they made both; and by their industry, even brought
them to a certain degree of perfection. The making eyes to
their needles gave them indeed no little trouble, but this they
also performed with the assistance of their knife; for, having
ground it to a very sharp point, and heated red hot a kind of
wire for that purpose, they pierced a hole through one end,
and, by whetting and smoothing it on stones, brought the other
to a point, and thus gave the whole needle a very tolerable
form. Scissors to cut out the skin, were what they next had
occasion for; but, having none, their place they supplied with
the knife; and, though there was neither shoemaker nor
tailor amongst them, yet they had contrived to cut out their






80 SANDPORD AND MERTON.

leather and furs well enough for their purpose. The sinews
of the bears and the rein-deer, which, as I mentioned before,
they had found means to split, served them for thread; and
thus provided with the necessary implements, they proceeded
to make their new clothes."
"These," said Mr. Barlow, "are the extracts which I
have made from this very extraordinary story; and they are
sufficient to show, both the many accidents to which men are
exposed, and the wonderful expedients which may be found
out, even in the most dismal circumstances."
"It i very true, indeed," answered Tommy; "but pray
what became of these poor men at last ?"
After they had lived more than six year upon this dreary
and inhospitable coast," answered Mr. Barlow, a ship arrived
there by accident, which took three of them on board, and
carried them in safety to their own country."
And what became of the fourth 1" said Tommy.
"He," said Mr. Barlow, "was seized with a dangerous
disease, called the scurvy; and being of an indolent temper,
and therefore not using the exercise which was necessary to
pe erve his life, after having lingered some time-died, and
was buried in the now by his companions."
Here little Harry came in from his father's house, and
brought with him the chicken, which. it has been mentioned,
he had saved from the claws of the kite. The little animal
was now perfectly recovered of the hurt it had received, and
showed so great a degree of affection to its protector, that it
would run after him ike a dog, hop upon his shoulder, nestle
in hi bosom, and eat crumbs out of his hand. Tommy was
extremely surprised and pleased to mark its tameness and
docility; and asked by what means it had been made so






BANDIORD AND MBRTON. 81

gentle. Harry told him he had taken no particular pawns
about it; but that, as the poor little creature had been sadly
hqrt he had fed it every day till it was well; and that, in con-
eqtuence of that kindness, it had conceived a great degree of
affection towards him.
"Indeed," said Tommy, "that is very surprising; for I
thought all birds would fly away whenever a man came near
them; and that even the fowls which are kept at home would
never let you touch them." -
"And what do you imagine is the reason of that aiked
Mr. Barlow.
"Because they are wild," said Tommy.
"And what is a fowl's being wild ?"
When he will not let you come near him, sir."
Then a fowl is wild, because he will not let you come
near him; and will not let you come near him because he is
wild. This is saying nothing more than that when a fowl is
wild, he will not let you approach him. But I want to know
what is the reason of his being wild." '
Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because they ae
naturally so."
But if they were naturally so, this fowl could not be fod
of Harry."
"That is because he is so good to it"
"Very likely. Then it is not'natural for an animal to rnm
away from a person who is good to him 1"
No, sir, I believe not"
But when a person i not good to him, or endeavor to hurt
him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it not?'
Ye, sir."
And then you say tat he is wild, do you not"
"Yes, sir."






82 SANDPORD AND MERTON.

Why then it is probable that animals are only wild because
they areafraid of being hurt, and that they only run away from
the fear of danger. Believe you would do the same from a
lion or a tiger."
"Indeed I would, sir."
And yet you do not call yourself a wild animal ?"
Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said, "No."
Therefore," said Mr. Barlow, "if you want to tame ani-
mals, you must be good to them, and treat them kindly, and
then they will no longer fear you, but come to you and love
you."
"Indeed," said Harry, that is very true; for I have heard
of a little boy who took a great fancy to a snake that lived in
his father's garden; and when he had his milk for breakfast,
he used to sit under the nut tree and whistle, and the snake
would come to him, and eat out of his bowl."
And did it not bite him ?" asked Tommy.
No; he sometimes used to give it a pat with hi spoon, if
it ate too fast: but it never hurt him."
Tommy was much pleased with this conversation; and
being both good-natured and desirous of making experiments,
he determined to try his skill in taming animals. Accord-
ingly, he took a large slice of bread in his hand, and went out
to seek some animal that he might give it to.-The first
thing that he happened to meet, was a sucking pig that had
rambled from its mother, and was basking in the sun. Tommy
would not neglect the opportunity of showing his talents; he
therefore called," Pig, pig,pig I come here, little pig I" But the
pig who did not exactly know what he meant, only grunted,
and ran away.-" You little ungrateful thing," said Tommy,
"do you treat me in this manner when I want to feed you t
If you do not know your friends, I must teach you." Saying





SANDFORD AND MBRTON. 88

This, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by one of his hind.
legs, intending to give him the bread which he had in
his hand; but the pig who was not used to be treated in that
manner, began struggling so hard, and squeaking so load, that
the sow, who was within hearing, came running to the place,
with all the rest of the litter at her heels. As Tommy did
not know whether she would be pleased with his civilities to
her young one or not, he thought it most prudent to let it go;
and the pig, endeavoring to escape as speedily as possible,
unfortunately ran between his legs, and threw him down.
The place where this accident happened was extremely wet;
therefore, Tommy, in falling, dirtied himself from head to foot;
and the sow, who came up at that instant, passed over him as
he attempted to rise, and rolled him back again into the
mire.
Tommy, who was not in his coolest temper, was extremely
provoked at this ungrateful return for his intended kindness;
and losing all patience, he seized the sow by the hind-leg,
and began beating her with all his might, as she attempted to
escape. The sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such
treatment, but endeavored with all her f9rce to escape; but
Tommy still keeping his hold, and continuing to beat heq
she struggled with such violence as to drag him several yards,
squeaking at the same time, in the most lamentable manner;
in which she was joined by the whole litter of pigs.
During the heat of this contest, a large flock of geese hap-
pened to be crossing the road, into the midst of which the af-
frighted sow run headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at
her heels. The goslings retreated with the grtest haste,
joining their mournful cackling to the general noise; but a
gander of more than common size and courage, resenting the
unprovoked attack which had been made upon his family,






84 8ANDPORD AND MERTON.

flew at Tommy's back and legs, and gave him several se-
ere strokes with his bill
Tommy, whose courage had hitherto been unconquerable
being thus unexpectedly attacked by a new enemy, was obliged
to yield to fortune, and not knowing the precise extent of
his danger, he not only suffered the sow to escape, but joined
his cries to the general scream. This alarmed Mr. Barlow,
who, coming up to the place, found his pupil in the most wo-
ful plight, daubed from head to foot, with his face and hands
as black as those of any chimney sweeper. He inquired what
was the matter and Tommy, as son as he had recovered
breath enough to speak, answered in this manner: Sir, all
this is owing to what you told me about taming animals: I
wanted to make them tame and gentle, and to love me; and
you see the consequences."
"Indeed," said Mr. Barlow, "I see you have been very
ill-treated, but I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing
to anything I have aid, I shall feel the more concern."
No," aid Tommy, I cannot say that I am much hurt."
SWhy then," sid Mr. Balow, "you had better go and
wash yourself; and when you are clean, we will talk over
the affair together."
When Tommy returned, Mr. Barlow asked him how the
aeeident had happened I and when he had heard the story, he
said, "I am very sorry for your misfortune; but I do not
perceive that I was the cause of it: for. I do not remember
that I ever advised you to catch pigs by the hinder legs."
No, sir," answered Tommy, but you told me that feed.
ing animals was the way to make them love me; and so I
wanted to feed the pig."
"But it was not my fault that you attempted it in a
wroag manner," said Mr. Barlow. "The animal did not






SANDFORD AND MERTON. 8'


know your intentions, and therefore, when you seized him
in so violent a manner, he naturally attempted to escape;
and his mother, hearing his cries, very naturally came to
his assistance. All that happened was owing to your in-
experience. Before you meddle with any animal, you should
make yourself acquainted with his nature and disposition;
otherwise you may fare like the little boy, who, in attempting
to catch flies, was stung by a wasp; or like another, who
seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it for an eel,
and was bitten by it; which had nearly cost him his life."
But. sir," said Tommy, I thought Harry had mentioned
a little boy that used to feed a snake without receiving any
hurt from it."
That might very well happen," replied Mr. Barlow;
there is scarcely any creature that will do hurt, unless it is
attacked or wants food; and some of these reptiles are en-
tirely harmless, others not: therefore, the best way is not
to meddle with any till you are perfectly acquainted with its
nature. Had you observed this rule, you never would hav, .
attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order to.W "
it: and it is very lucky that you did not try to make the ea
periment upon a larger animal, otherwise you might have
been as badly treated as the Tailor was by the Elephant"
Pray. sir." eagerly asked Tommfy, what is this curious
story ? But first tell me, if you please, what an Elephant is."
An Elephant," said Mr. Barlow, "is the largest land
animal that we are acquainted with. It is many times heavier
than an ox. and grows to the height of eleven or twelve feet
Its strength, as may be easily imagined, is prodigious; but ik
is at the same time so very gentle, that it rarely does hurt
to anything, even in the woods where it resides. It does
not eat flesh, but it lives upon the fruits and branches of





SANDFORD AND MERTON.


trees. But what is most singular about its make is, that in-
stead of a nose, it has a long, hollow piece of flesh, which
grows over its mouth to the length of three or four feet: this
i called the trunk of the Elephant; and he is capable of
bending it in every direction. When he wants to break off
the branch of a tree, he twists his trunk round it, and snaps
it off directly; when he wants to drink, he lets it down into
the water, sucks up several gallons at a time, and then, doub-
ling the end of it back, discharges it all into his mouth."
"But if he is so large and strong," said Tommy, I should
suppose it must be impossible ever to tame him."
"So perhaps it would be," replied Mr. Barlow, "did they
not instruct those who have been already tamed to assist
in catching others."
"How is that, sir ?" asked Tommy.
"When they have discovered a forest where these animals
resort, they make a large enclosure with strong posts and a
deep ditch, leaving only one entrance to it, which has a
strong gate left purposely open. They then let one or two
.,ef their tame Elephants loose, who join the wild ones, and
gradually entice them into the enclosure. As soon as one
of these has entered, a man who stood ready, shuts the gates
and takes him prisoner. The animal finding himself thus
enprapped, begins to grow furious, and attempts to escape:
bt immediately two tame ones, of the largest size and great-
est strength, who had been placed there on purpose, come
up to him, one on each side, and beat him with their trunks
till he becomes more quiet A man then comes behind, ties
a very large rope to each of his hind legs, and fastens the
other end of it to two great trees. He is then left without
food for some hours, and in that time generally becomes so
docile, as to suffer himself to be conducted to the stable that





SANDIPOD AND NORYO0 .

is prepared fr him, where he lives the ret of h lih like a
horse, or any other sort of domestic animaL"
"And pray, sir," asked Tommy, what didc Elephant
do to the Tailor ?" *'
There was," said Mr. Barlow, "at Lt, e i dtywhe
many of theseClephants are kept. a Tailor, who used to sit
and work in his shed, close to the place to whisk these Ele-
phats were led every day to drink. This man eobtracted a
kind of acquaintance with one of the largest of these beast,
and used to present him with fruits and other vegetable
whenever the Elephant passed by his door. The elephantt
was accustomed to put his long trunk in at the window, ua'
to receive in that manner whatever his friend chose to giva
But one day, the Tailor happened to be in a more than ori
nary ill humor, and not considering how dangerous it might
be to provoke an animal of that size and straigth, When the
elephantt put his trunk in at the wih as usual, instead of
giving it anything to eat, he priced him with his need
Th Elephant instantly withdrew ft trunk, and without
showing an marks of resentment, went on with the ilk t
drink; bt after he had quenched his thirst, he colleetdl
lae quantity of the dirtiest water he could find, in his trW
which Ihave already told you is capable of holding many a
lions, and when he paired by the Tailor's shop, on his return,
he diM urged it full in his face, with so true an aim, that
he w h kim all over, and almost drowned him; thus justly
punishing the man for his ill-nature and breach of friendship."
"Indo," sa Harry, "considering the strength of the
anial muslave had a great moderation ad generosity
not to tge puno d the man more severely; and therefore I
think M i a very ga i shame to men ever to be cruel to ani-
amlbs thean do affectionate and humane."
ti






8ANDPORD AND MERTON.


"You are very right," said Mr. Barlow; and I remember
another story of an Elephant, which, if true, is still more
extraordinary. These animals, although 'in general they
are as docile and obedient to the person that takes care of
them, as a dog, are sometimes seized with a species of impa-
tience which makes them absolutely ungqernable. It is
then dangerous to come near them, and very difficult to re-
strain them. I should have mentioned, that in the Eastern
parts of the world, where Elephants are found, the kings and
princes keep them to ride upon, as we do horses: a kind of
tent or pavilion is fixed upon the back of the animal, in which
one or more persons is placed; and the keeper that is used
to manage him, sits upon the neck of the Elephant, and guides
him by means of a pole with an iron hook at the end. Now,
as thfse animals are of great value, the keeper is frequently
severely punished if any accident happens to the animal by
his carelessness. But one day, one of the largest Elephants
being seized with a sudden fit of passion, had broken loose;
and, as the keeper was not in the way, nobody was able to
appease him, or dared to come near him. While, therefore,
he was running about in this manner, he chanced to see the
wife of his keeper (who had often fed him, as well as her
husband,) with her young child in her arms, with which she
was endeavoring to escape from his fury. The woman ran
as fast as she was able, but finding that it was impossible
for her to escape, because these beasts, although so very
large, are able to run very fast, she resolutely turned about,
and throwing her child down before the Elephant, thus ac-
costed him, as if he had been capable of understanding her:
U You ungrateful beast, is this the returaWu make for all
the benefits we have bestowed Ha Je fed you, and
taken care of you, by day and night, d many years,






SANDPORD AND MERTON.


only that you may at last destroy us all ? Crush, then, this
poor innocent child and me, in return for the services that
my husband has done you !" While she was making these
passionate exclamations, the Elephant approached the place
where the little infant lay, but, instead of trampling upon
him, or hurting him, he stopped short, and looked at him
with earnestness, as if he had been sensible of shame and
confusion; and his fury from that instant abating, he suffered
himself to be led without opposition to his stable."
Tommy thanked Mr. Barlow for these two stories; and
promised for tie future, to use more discretion in his kindness
to animals.
The next day, Tommy and Harry went into the garden to
sow the wheat which Harry had brought with him, upon a
bed which Tommy had dug for that purpose.
While they were at work, the following dialogue took
place between them:

Tommy. Pray, Harry, did you ever hear the story of the
men that were obliged to live six years upon that cold coun-
try (I forget the name of it,) where there is nothing but snow
and ice, and scarcely any other animals but great bears, that
are ready to eat men up?
Harry. Yes, I have.
Tommy. And did not the very thoughts of it frighten you
dreadfully ?
Harry. No, I cannot say they did.
Tommy. Why, should you like to live in such a country?
Harry. No, certainly; I am very happy that I was
in such a country as this, where the weather is scarcely
too hot or too cold: but a man must bear patiently w Wi
is his lot in this world.






9 IIANDFORD AND MBITON,

To That is true But should you not cry, sd be
ery afflicted, if you were left upon uch a country
arry. I should certainly be very sorry, if I ws left there
alone, more speially as I am not big enough, or strong
enough, to defend myself against such fierce animals; but
the crying would do me no good: it would be better to do
something, and endeavor to help myself
7bmmy. Indeed I think it would: but what could you do?
Harry. Why, I would endeavor to build myself a house,
if I could find any materials.
T2bmy. And what material is a houer made off I
thought it had been impossible to make a house without hav-
ing a great many people of different trades, euch a carpen-
ters and bricklayersn.
S Harry. You know there are houses of different sies.
The houses that the poor people live in, are very different
from your father's house.
bTmmy. Yes, they are little, nasty, dirty, disagreeable
places; I should not like to live in them at all.
Harry. And yet the poor are in general as strong and
healthy as the rich. But if you could have no other, you
would rather live in one of them than to be exposed to the
weather?
Tommy. Yes, certainly. And how would you make one
of them?
Harry. If I could get any wood, and had a hatchet, I
could cut down some branches of trees, and stick them up-
right in the ground, near to each other.
bamMy. And what then
Harry. I would then get some other branches, but mor
Ail of small wood; and these I would interweave between
them, just as we make pens to confine the sheep: and the





SANDIORD AND KZRTON.


a that might nat be warm enough to resist the wind and cold,
I would cover them over, both within and without, with clay.
Tommy. Clay what is that
Harry. It a a particular kind of earth,thatticks to your
* feet when you tread upon it, or to your hands when you
touch it
bTommy. I declare I did not think it had been so easy to
make a house. And do you think that people could really
live in such houses t
SHarry. Certainly they might, because many persons live
in such houses here; and I have been told, that in many
parts of the world they have not any other.
S Tommy. Really, I should like to try to make a house: do
you think, Harry, that you and I could make-onet
f Harry. Yes, if we had wood and clay enough, I think A
we could; and a small hatchet to sharpen the stakes, an4
make them enter the ground.
Mr. Barlow then came to call them in to read: and toir
Tommy, that as he had been talking so much about good-
mature to animals, he had looked him out a very pretty story
upon the subject, and begged that he would read it well
That I will," said Tommy; "for I begin to like reading
extremely: and I think that I am happier too since I learned
it: for now I can always divert myself"
"Indeed," answered Mr. Barlow, "moat people find it o.
When any one can read, he will not find the knowledge any
burden to him: and it is his own fault, if he is not constantly
amused. This is an advantage, Tommy, which a Gentle.
man, since you are so fond of the word, may more particu-
larly enjoy, because he has so much tim his own.dispo-
sal; and t is much better that he should distinguish himse
by having mo knowledge and imprement than other






94 8ANDPORD AND MBETON.

than by fine clothes, or any such trifles, which any one may
have that can purchase them, as well as himself"
Tommy then read, with a clear and distinct voice, the fol-
lowing story of

THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY.
A LrrLE boy went out, one morning, to walk to a village
about five miles from the place where he lived, and carried
with him, in a basket, the provision that was to serve him the
whole day. As he was walking along, a poor little half-starved
dog came up to him, wagging his tail, and seeming to en-
treat him to take compassion on him. The little boy at first
took no notice of him, but at length, remarking how lean and
famished the creature seemed to be, he said, "This animal is 1.
certainly in very great necessity: if I give him part of my
provison, I shall be obliged to go home hungry myself;
however, as he seems to want it more than I do, he hall par-
take with me." Saying this, he gae the dog part of what
be had in the basket, who ate as if he had not tasted victuals
for a fortnight.
The little boy then went on a little farther, the dog still "
following him, and fawning upon him with the greatest grati-
tude and affection, when he saw a poor old horse lying upon
the ground, and groaning as if he was very ill: he went up
to him, and saw that he was almost starved, and so weak
that he was unable to rise. "I am ery much afraid," said
the little boy, "if I stay to assist this hoethat it will be
dark before I can return; and I have herd that there are
several thieves in the neighborhood; however, I will try; it
is doing a good action to attempt to relieve him; and God Al-
mighty will take care of me." He then went and gathers





SANDOID AND D MBETON. 90

soe grass, which he brought to the horse's mouth, who im-
mediately began to eat with as much relish as if his chief
disease wa hunger. He then fetched some water in his hat,
which the animal drank up, and seemed immediately to be so
much refreshed, that, after a few trials, he got up and began
Thelttle boy then went on a little farther, and saw a man
wading about in a pond of water, without being able to get
out of it, in spite of all his endeavors. "What is the mat-
ter, good man," said the little boy to him; "can't you find
your way out of this pond?"-" No, God blew you, my wor-
thy master, or mis" said the man; "for such I take you to be
by your voice; I have fallen into this pond, and know not
how to get out again, as I am quite blind, and I almost
afraid to move for fear of being drowned.'--" Well," said the
little boy," though I should be wetted to the skin, if you will
throw me your stick, I will try to help you out of it" The
blind man then threw the stick to that side on which he heard
the voice; the little boy caught it, and went into the water,
feeling very carefully before him, lest he should unguadedly
go beyond hi depth; at length he reached the band ma
took him very carefully by the hand, and led him out. The
blind man then gave him a thousand blessings, and told him
he could grope out his way home; and the little boy ran on
as hard as he could, to prevent being benighted.
But he had not proceeded far, before e saw a poor sailor
who had lost both his legs in an engagement by sea, hoppig
along upon crutches. "God bless you, my little master I
said the sailor: "I have fought many a battle with the
rench, to defend poor old England: but now I am cripled
u you see, and have neither vctuals nor money, althou
am almot famished." The little boy could not rest hu in






96 SANDFORD AND MBRTON.

clination to relieve him; so he gave him all his remaining
viotuals, and said, "God help you, poor man this is all
have, otherwise you should have more." He then ran lg,
and presently arrived at the town he was going to, did his
buines, and returned towards his own home, with all the
expedition he was able.
But he had not gone much more than half way, before the
night shut in extremely dark, without either moon or stars to
eight him. The poor little boy used his utmost endeavors to
find hi way, but unfortunately missed it in turning down a
lane which brought him into a wood, where he wandered
about a great while without being able to find any path-to lead'
him out Tired out at last, and hungry, he felt himself so fee-
ble, that he could go no farther, but set himself down upon
the ground, crying most bitterly. In this situation he remain-
ed for some time, till at last the little dog, who had never fee-
saken him, came close to him, wagging his tail, and holding
something in his mouth. The little boy took it from him, and
saw it was a handkerchief nicely pinned together, which
somebody had dropped, and the dog had picked it up; and on
opening it, he found several slices of bread and meat, which
the little boy ate with great satisfaction, and felt himself ex-
tremely refreshed with his meal So," said the little boy,
" I see that if I have given you your breakfast, you have given
me a supper; and a good turn is never lost, done even to a
He then once more attempted to escape from-the wood;
but it was to no purpose; he only scratched his legs with
briars, and slipped down in the dirt, without being able to fad
his way out He was just going to give up all farther at
tempts in despair, when he happened to see a horse feeding
before him, and going up to him, saw, by the.light of to





LANDlORD AND MXITON.

moot, which just then began to shine a little, that it was the
very same he &ad fed in the morning. Perhaps," said the
little boy, "this creature, as I have been so good to him,
will let me get upon his back, and he may bring me out
the wood, a he is accustomed to feed in this neighborhood "
The little boy then went up to the horse, speaking to him aad
stroking him, and the horse let him mount his back without
opposition; and then proceeded slowly through the wood,
grazing as he went, till he brought him to an opening, which
led to the high road. The little boy was much rejoiced at
this, and said, If I had not saved this creature's life in the
morning, I should have been obliged to have staid here al
night; I see by this, that a good turn is never lost"
But the poor little boy had yet a greater danger to us-
dergo: for. as he wa going along a solitary lane, two men
nuhed out upon him, laid hold of him, and were going to
strip him of his clothes-but, just as they were beginning to
do it, the little dog bit the leg of one of the men with so much
violence, that he left the little boy, and pursued the dog, that
an howling away. At this instant, a voice was heard, cry-
ing out, "There the rascals are; let us knock them down"
which frightened the remaining man so much, that he rae
away, and his companion followed him. The little boy the
looked up, and saw that it was the sailor whom he had re-
lieved in the morning, carried upon the shoulders of the blind
man whom he had helped out of the pond. There my little
dear," said the sailor, "God be thanked I we have come in
time to do you a service, in return for what you did us in the
morning. As I lay under a hedge, I heard thee villains
talk of robbing a little boy; from the description, I concluded
it must be you: but I was so lame, that I should not hav
bm able to oome time enough to help you, if I had not met






98 ANDPORD AND MBRTON.

this honest blind man, who took me upon his back while I
showed him the way."
The little boy thanked him very sincerely, for thus defezd-
ing him; and they went all together to his father's house,
which was not far off; where they were all kindly enter-
tained with a supper and a bed. The little boy took care of
his faithful dog as long as he lived; and never forgot the im-
portance of the necessity of doing good to others, if we wish
them to do the same to us.
"Upon my word," said Tommy, when he had finished, "I
am vastly pleased with thia story, and I think that it may
very likely be true; for I have myself observed, that every-
thing seems to love little Harry here, merely because he is
good-natured to it. I was quite surprised to see the great
dog, the other day, which I had never dared to touch, for.
fear of being bitten, fawning upon him, and licking him all *
over: it put me in mind of the story of Androcles and the
Lion."
"That dog," said Mr. Barlow, will be equally fod of you
if you are kind to him: for nothing equals the sagacity and
gratitude of a dog. But since you have read a story about a
od-natured boy, Harry shall read you another concerning a
boy of a contrary disposition."
Harry then read the following story of

THE ILL-NATURED BOY.
Tamaz was once a little boy who was so unfortunate as to
have a very bad man for his father, who was always surly
and ill-tempered, and never gave his children good instr o
tions or good example; in consequence of which, this little





NANDPORD AND MBRTON. 0

boy, who might otherwise have been happier and better, be-
came ill-natured, quarrelsome, and disagreeable to everybody.
He very often was severely beaten for his impertinence, by
boys that were bigger than himself, and sometime., by bo
that were les: for, though he was very abusive and quarrel-
some, he did not much like fighting; and generally trusted
more to his heels than his courage, when he had engaged
himself in a quarrel This little boy had a cur dog that was
the exact image of himself: he was the most troublesome,
surly creature imaginable-always barking at the heels of
every horse he came near, and worrying every sheep he
could meet with; for which reason, both the dog and the boy
were disliked by all the neighborhood.
One morning his father got up early to go to the alehouse,
where he intended to stay till night, as it was a holiday; but.
Before he went out, he gave his son some bread ansld
meat, and sixpence; and told him he might go and divert
himself as he would, the whole day. The little boy was
much pleased with this liberty; and, as it was a very fine
morning he called his dog Tiger to follow him, and began
He had not proceeded far, before he met a-little boy driving
a flock of sheep towards a gate that he wanted them to enter.
Pray, master," said the little boy, "stand still and keep your
dog close to you-for fear you frighten my sheep."
"Oh I yes, to be sure 1" answered the ill-natured boy "I
am to wait here all the morning, till you and your sheephave
passed, I suppose Here, Tiger, seize them, boy I" Tiger
at this, sprang forth into the middle of the flock, barking an
biting on every side; and the sheep, in a general consterna-
tion, hurried each a separate way. Tiger seemed to enjoy
thi sport equally with his master; but in the midst of his






SANDFORD AND EKUTON.


S tiwmph, he happened, unguardedly, to attack an old rau that
hi more courage than the rest of the fock: he. instead of
o running away, faced about, and aimed a blow with his foe
head at his enemy, with so much force and dexterity, that he
knocked Tiger over and over; and, butting him several time
while he was down, obliged him to limp howling away.
The ill-natured little boy who was not capable of loving
anything, had been much diverted with the trepidation of
the sheep; but now he laughed heartily at the misfortune
of his dog; and he would have laughed- much longer, had
not the other little boy, provoked beyond his patience, at
this treatment, thrown a stone at him, which hit him full upon
the temples, and almost knocked him down. He immediately
began to cry, in concert with his dog; and perceiving a man
coming towards them who, he fancied, might be the owner
flhe sheep, he thought it most prudent to escape as speedily.
u possible.
But he had scarcely recovered from the smart which the
blow had occasioned, before his former mischievous dispoi-
tion returned; which he determined to gratify to the utmost.
He had not gone far, before he saw a little girl standing by a
gate with a large pot of milk at her feet "Pray," said the
little girl," help me up with this pot of milk: my mother sent
me out to fetch.it this morning, and I have brought it above a
mile upon my head ;'but I am so tired that I have been obliged
to stop to rest me; and if I don't return home presently, we
shall have no pudding to-day, and, besides, my mother will be
very angry with me."
SWhat I" said tho boy, you are to have a padding today,
are you, miss ?"
SYes," said the little girl, and a fine piee of roast beef-
fr there's uncle Will, and uncle John, and grandfather, and





SANDFORD AND MBRTON. 101

all my cosins, to dine with us, and we shall be very merry.
the evening I can assure you; so pray help me up, as speedily
a possible."
"That I will, miss" said the boy; and, taking up the ju
he pretended to fix it upon her head-but, just as she ad
hold of it, he gave it a little push, as if he had stumbled, and
overturned it upon her. The little girl began to cry violently,
but the miselcievous boy ran away, laughing heartily, and say-
ing," Good-bye, little miss; give my compliments to uadl
Will, ad grandfather, and the dear little cousins."
This prank encouraged him very much; for he thought,
that now he had certainly escaped without any bad c
quences; so he went on, applauding his own ingenuity, til he
came to a green where several little boys were at play. He
desired leave to play with them; which they allowed him to
do. But he could not be contented long. without exerting his
evil disposition; so taking an opportunity when. it was i
turn to fling the ball, instead of singing it the way he ought
to have done, he threw it into a deep muddy ditch; the little
boys ran in a great hurry to se what was become of it;
and, a they were standing all together upon the brink, he
gave the outermost boy a violent push against his neighbor;
he, not being able to resist the violence, tumbled against the
next, that next against another; by which means they were
all soused into the ditch together. They soon scrambled out,
although in a dirty plight, and were going to punish him for
hs ill behavior; but he patted Tiger upon the back, who began
snarling and growling n such a manner as made them desist.
Thus this mischievous little boy escaped a second time with
impunity.
The next thing that he met with, wm a poor a feeding
very'quietly in a ditch. The little boy, seeing that nobody




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