Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 The history of Sanford and...
 The flies and the ants
 The gentleman and the basket-m...
 The history of the two dogs
 Androcles and the lion
 The story of Cyrus
 The two brothers
 Extracts from a narrative of the...
 The good-natured little boy
 The ill-natured little boy
 The story of the grateful Turk
 Continuation of the history of...
 History of a surprising cure of...
 History of Agesilaus
 The history of Leonidas, king of...
 Sophron and Tigranes
 The conclusion of the story of...
 Back Cover

Group Title: Warne's national books
Title: The History of Sandford and Merton
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081074/00001
 Material Information
Title: The History of Sandford and Merton
Series Title: Warne's national books
Alternate Title: Sandford and Merton
Physical Description: 10, 269, 7 p., 8 leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 14 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Day, Thomas, 1748-1789
Dalziel, Edward, 1817-1905
Dalziel, George, 1815-1902
Frederick Warne (Firm) ( Publisher )
Publisher: Frederick Warne and Co., Bedford Street, Strand
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: not before 1865
Subject: Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prejudices -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Moral tales -- 1891   ( local )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1891   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre: Moral tales   ( local )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
General Note: Approximate date established from Brown, P. London publishers and printers c.1800-1870.
General Note: Half-title.
General Note: Series statement from publisher's binding.
General Note: Publisher's advertisement: p. 9, preceding text. Also: 7 pages following text; the first three of which are included in the final text gathering.
General Note: Includes preface; table of contents.
General Note: Cf. Osborne Coll., p. 243-244; 874-875.
General Note: Cf. Gumuchian, 2064-2088.
General Note: Cf. Welch, D.A. Amer. children's books, 269.
Statement of Responsibility: by Thomas Day ; with original illustrations, printed in colours by Dalziel Brothers.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081074
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002248809
notis - ALK0534
oclc - 31192218

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Half Title
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations
    The history of Sanford and Merton
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 4a
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 8a
        Page 9
    The flies and the ants
        Page 10
        Page 11
    The gentleman and the basket-maker
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    The history of the two dogs
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Androcles and the lion
        Page 22
        Page 22a
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    The story of Cyrus
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The two brothers
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
    Extracts from a narrative of the extraordinary adventures of four Russian sailors, who were cast away on the desert island of East Spitzbergen
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 42a
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    The good-natured little boy
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The ill-natured little boy
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    The story of the grateful Turk
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
    Continuation of the history of the grateful Turk
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 84a
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
    History of a surprising cure of the gout
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
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        Page 116
        Page 116a
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
    History of Agesilaus
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    The history of Leonidas, king of Sparta
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
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        Page 152a
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        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
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        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 174a
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    Sophron and Tigranes
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
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        Page 199
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        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 206a
        Page 207
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        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 224a
        Page 225
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        Page 227
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        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
    The conclusion of the story of Sophron and Tigranes
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
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        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 258a
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
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        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


The Baldwin Library



46~ R~~ec~-

Az/Lr~r3~i~~I1 -






With Coloured Illustrations.






i I









THE great popularity which the "History of Sandford
and Merton" has possessed with the young since its
first publication, in the latter half of the last century, has
induced the Publishers to add a New Edition of it to their
series of National Books,
It is hoped that the few liberties taken with the text,
in the way of alteration, may not diminish its value, but
that it may be welcome, as of old, to the Young Readers
of England.

~g~-- I




Harry relieving the poor Cottagers Front.
Harry saving Tommy from the Snake 4
The First Day at Mr. Barlow's 8
Androcles and the Lion 22
Shipwrecked Mariners killing a White Bear 42
Tommy encounters the Bear and Monkey 84
Falling of an Avalanche .
Tommy and Harry at Mr. Merton's .
Harry saving Tommy from the Bull, the Negro helping 174
Rescue of Harry's Lamb 206
The Highlander running from the Prairie Fire 224
Harry and Tommy making up their quarrel 256

W9 Z.fi




IN the western part of England lived, many years ago, a gentleman
of great 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 cultivated sugar and.
other valuable things for his advantage. He had only one son, of
whom he was excessively fond; and to educate his child properly
was the reason of his determining to stay some years in England.
Tommy Merton, who, at the time he came from Jamaica, was only
six years old, was naturally a very good-tempered boy, but unfortu-
nately had been spoiled by too much indulgence. While he lived in
Jamaica, he had several black servants to wait upon him, who were
forbidden upon any account to contradict him. If he 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 always
dressed in silk or laced clothes, and had a fine gilded carriage, which
was borne upon men's shoulders, in which he made visits to his 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
everything he wanted, he became very fretful and unhappy. Some-,
times he ate sweetmeats till he made himself ill, 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 be contradicted,
it was many hours before he could be pacified. When any company
came to dine at the house, he was always helped first, and to have
the most delicate parts of the meat, otherwise he would make such a
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 to him, he would scramble upon the
table, seize the cake and bread and butter, and frequently upset the
tea-cups. By these pranks he not only made himself disagreeable
to everybody else, but often met with very dangerous accidents.
Frequently he cut himself with knives, at other times threw 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 rain 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 cipher; he could use none of his limbs with ease,
nor bear any degree of fatigue ; but he was very proud, fretful, and
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 labourers while they were ploughing, and to drive the sheep to
their pastures, was active, strong, hardy, and fresh-coloured. He
was neither so fair nor so delicately shaped as Master Merton; but
he had an honest good-natured countenance, which made everybody
love him, was never out of humour, 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
which 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 along 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 hand, he burst
into tears, and took the poor cockchafer home, where he fed him
during a fortnight upon fresh leaves; and when he was perfectly
recovered, turned him out to enjoy liberty and fresh air. Ever
since that time, Harry was so careful and considerate that he would
step out of the way for fear of hurting a worm, and employed him-
self in doing kind offices to all the animals in the neighbourhood.
He used to 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 kinds of disagreeable creatures, 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 only because we did not like them.
These sentiments made little Harry a great favourite with every-
body; 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 affection 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 discontented, 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 plum cake by telling an untruth, and
was sure that speaking the truth would expose him to a severe whip-
ping, he never hesitated in declaring it. Nor was he like manyother
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, in
his way.
With this little boy Master Merton became acquainted in the fol-
lowing manner:-As he and the maid were once walking in the fields
on a fine summer's morning, diverting themselves with gathering
different kinds of wild flowers, and running 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 le 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 to tell him, but pointed to his leg, 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 by the neck, with as much dexterity as resolution,
tore him from Tommy's leg, and threw him to a great distance off.
Just as this happened, Mrs. Merton and all the family, alarmed by
the servant's cries, came running breathless to the place, 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 whether 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 off."
"And who are you, my dear," said she, "to whom we are all so
"Harry Sandford, madam."
"Well, my child, you are a dear, brave little creature, and you
shall go home and dine with us."
"No, thank you, madam ; my father will want me."
"And who is your father, my sweet boy ? "
"Farmer Sandford, madam, that lives at the bottom of the hill."
"Well, my dear, you shall be my child henceforth : will you ?"
If you please, madam, if 1 may have my own father and mother
'Mrs. Merton instantly dispatched a servant to the farmer's ; and,
taking little Harry by the hand, she led him to the mansion-house,
where she found Mr. Merton, whom she entertained 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 of silver.
At dinner he was placed close to Mrs. Merton, who took care to
supply him with the choicest bits, and engaged him to eat, with the
most endearing kindness; but, to the astonishment of everybody,
he neither appeared pleased nor surprised at anything he saw. Mrs.


S 1'


Merton could not conceal her disappointment; for, a, she had
always been used to a great degree of finery herself, she had ex-
pected it should make the same impression upon everybody else.
After dinner, Mrs. Merton filled a large glass of wine, and giving it
to Harry, bade him drink it up; but he thanked her, and said he
was not dry.
But, my dear," said she, "this is very sweet and pleasant, and,
as you are a good boy, you may drink it up."
"Ay, but, madam, Mr. Barlow says that we must only eat when
we are hungry, and drink when we are dry; and that we must only
eat and drink such things as are easily met with; otherwise we shall
grow peevish and vexed when we can't get them. And this was the
way that the Apostles did, who were all very good men."
Mr. Merton laughed at this.'
"And pray," said he, "little man, do you know who the Apostles
"Oh yes, to be sure I do."
"And who were they ?"
"Why, sir, there was a time when people were grown so very
wicked, that they did not care what they did ; and the great folks
were all proud, and minded nothing but eating and drinking and
sleeping, and amusing themselves ; and took no care of the poor,
and would not give a morsel of bread to hinder a beggar from starv-
ing; and the poor were all lazy and loved to be idle better than to
work; and little boys were disobedient to their parents, and their
parents took no care to teach them anything that was good; and
all the world was very bad, very bad indeed. And then the Lord
Jesus Christ came upon earth, ahd He went about doing good to
everybody, and curing people of all sorts of diseases, and taught
them what they ought to do; and He chose out twelve very good
men, and called them Apostles; and these Apostles went about the
world doing as He did, and teaching people as He taught them.
And they never minded what they ate or drank, but lived upon dry
bread and water; and when anybody offered them money, they
would not take it, but told them to be good, and give it to the poor
and sick; and so they made the world a great deal better. And
therefore it is not fit to mind what we live upon, but we should take
what we can get, and be contented-just as the beasts and birds do,
who lodge in the open air, and live upon herbs, and drink nothing
but water ; and yet they are strong, and active, ard healthy."
Upon my word," said Mr. Merton, "this little man is a great
philosopher; and we should be much obliged to Mr. Barlow if he

would take our Tommy under his care, for he grows a great boy,
and it is time that he should know something. What say you,
Tommy, should you like to be a philosopher ?"
Indeed, papa, I don't know what a philosopher is; but I should
like to be a king, because he 's finer and richer than anybody else,
and has nothing to do, and everybody waits upon him and is afraid
of him."
Well said, my dear," replied Mrs. Morton, and rose and kissed
him ; "and a king you deserve to be with such a spirit; and here's
a glass of wine for you for making such a pretty answer. And
should you not like to be a king, too, little Harry?"
Indeed, madam, I don't know; but I hope I shall soon be big
enough to go to plough, and get my own living; and then I shall
want nobody to wait upon me."
What a difference between the children of farmers and gentle-
men whispered Mrs. Merton to her husband, looking rather con-
temptuously upon Harry.
I am not sure," said Mr. Merton, that for this time the advan-
tage is on the side of our son."
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
I"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 talking to me, not as Mr. Barlow does, but wanting me to love
fine clothes, and to be a king."
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 openness of temper ; she was
also struck with the good-nature and benevolence of his character;
but she contended that he had a certain grossness and indelicacy in
his ideas, which distinguish the children of the lower and middling
classes of people from those of persons of rank. Mr. Merton, on the
contrary, maintained that he had never before seen a child whose
sentiments and disposition would do so much honour even to the

most elevated station. Nothing, he affirmed, was more easily ac-
quired 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 little other difference than what results from
the former wearing soiled clothes and healthier countenances. In-
deed, the real seat of all superiority, even of manners, must be placed
in the mind: dignified sentiments, superior courage, accompanied
with genuine 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 affected tones of
voice, particularly grimaces, or extravagant and unnatural modes of
dress-which, far from becoming the real test of gentility, have m
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, asserting," said he, very seriously, "'that this
little country boy has within his mind the seeds of true gentility and
dignity of character; 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 in any
respect fall below the son of Farmer Sandford."
Whether Mrs. Merton fully acceded to these observations of her
husband I cannot decide ; but,tvithout waiting to hear herparticular
sentiments, he thus went on:-
"Should I appear more warm than usual upon this subject, you
must pardon me, my dear, and attribute it to the interest I feel in
the welfare of our little Tommy. I am too sensible that our mutual
fondness has hitherto treated him with rather 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 caprices and humours; 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 attainments of his age and station. All this I have long
observed in silence, but have hitherto concealed, both from my fond-
ness 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 care of him; and I think this acci-
dental acquaintance with young Sandford may prove the luckiest
thing in the world, as he is so nearly 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 con-
stant 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 Sunday, and Mr. Merton took an opportunity of intro-
ducing the subject, and making the proposal to him; assuring him,
at the same time, that though there was no return within the bounds
of his fortune which he would not willingly make, yet the education
and improvement of his son were objects of so much importance to
him, that he should always consider himself the obliged party.
To this Mr. Barlow, after thanking Mr. Merton for the confidence
and liberality with which he treated him, answered him in the follow-
ing manner:-
I should be little worthy of the distinguished regard with which
you treat me, did I not with the greatest sincerity assure you that I
feel myself totally unqualified for the task. I am, sir, a minister of
the Gospel, and I would not exchange that character, and the severe
duties it enjoins, for any other situation in life. But you must be
sensible that the retired manner of life which I have led for these
twenty years, in consequence of my profession, at a distance from
the capital, is little adapted to form such a tutor as the manners and
opinions of the world require for your son. Nevertheless, I am con-
tented to take him for some 'months under my care, and to endeavour
by every means within my power to improve him. But there is one
circumstance which is indispensable, that you permit me to have the
pleasure of serving you as a friend. If you approve of my ideas and
conduct, I will keep him as long as you desire. In the meantime,
as there are, I fear, some little circumstances which have grown up,
by too much tenderness and indulgence, to be altered in his character,
I think that *I shall possess more of the necessary influence 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.


w i 6 I-?


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 eagerness.
Everybody that eats," said Mr. Barlow, ought to assist in pro
curing food; and therefore little Harry and I begin our daily work
This is my bed, and that other is his ; we 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
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. Barlow, taking out a plate
of very fine ripe cherries, divided them between Harry and him-
Tommy, who had 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 an answer, you may be
silent; nobody is obliged to speak here."
Tommy became still more disconcerted 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 eaten, 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
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:-



IN the corner of a farmer s garden, there once happened to be a 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 diffe-
rent employment 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 toil-
ing, instead of enjoying the fine weather, and diverting themselves
like these flies, who are the happiest 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 insects, 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 themselves no trouble about laying up
provisions, and were too idle to work ; but the ants, who had been
busy all the summer in providing for their maintenance during the
winter, are all alive and well; and you will see them as soon as the
warm weather returns."

Very well, Harry," said Mr. Barlow; "we will now take a walk."
They accordingly rambled out into the fields, where Mr. Barlow
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 them to Mr. Barlow, and asked whether
they were good to eat.
It is very lucky," said Mr. Barlow, young man, that you asked
the question before youput them into your mouth; for had you tasted
them, they would have given you violent pains in your head and
stomach, and perhaps have killed you, as they grow upon a plant
called nightshade, which is a rank poison."
"Sir," said Harry, "I take care never to eat anything without

knowing what it is, and I hope, if you will be so good as to continue
to teach me, I shall very soon know the names and qualities of all
the herbs which grow."
As they were returning home, Harry saw a very large bird called
a kite, upon the ground, who seemed to have something in his claws,
which he was tearing to pieces. Harry, who knew him to be one of
those ravenous creatures which prey upon others, ran up to him,
shouting as loud as he could; and the bird, being frightened, flew
away, and left a chicken behind him, very much hurt indeed, but still
"Look, sir," said Harry, "if that cruel creature has not almost
killed this poor chicken ; see how he bleeds, and hangs his wings !
I will put him into my bosomi to recover him, and carry him home;
and he shall have part of my dinner every day till he is well, and able
to shift for himself."
As soon as they came home, the first care of little Harry was to
put his wounded chicken into a basket with some fresh straw, some
water, and some bread. After that Mr. Barlow and he went to
In the meantime, 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 are too much df a gentleman to work, we, who
are not so, do not 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 per-
ceive that nobody minded his ill temper.
But little Harry, who could not bear to see his friend so unhappy,
looked up half-crying into Mr. Barlow's face, and said, Pray, sir,
may I do as I please with my share of the dinner?"
"Yes, to be sure, child."
"Why, then," said he, getting up, "I will give it all to poor
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 turning his eyes from off the
"I see," said Mr. Barlow, "that though gentlemen are above
being of any use themselves, they are not above taking the bread
that other people have been working hard for."
At this Tommy cried still more bitterly than before.
The next day Mr. Barlow and Harry went to work as before ; but


they had scarcely begun before Tommy came to them, and desired
that he might have a hoe too, which Mr. 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 his legs. Mr.
SBarlow then laid down his own spade, and showed him how to hold
9 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 retired all three to the summer-house; and Tommy felt the
greatest joy imaginable when the fruit was produced, and he was in-
vited 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


THERE was, in the Eastern part of the world, a rich man, who lived
in a fine house, and spent his whole time in eating, drinking, sleep-
ing, and amusing himself. As he had a great many servants to wait
upon him, who treated hir with the greatest respect, and did what-
ever they were ordered, and as he had never been taught the truth,
nor accustomed to hear it, he grew very proud, insolent, and capri-
cious, imagining that he had a right to command all the world, and
that the poor were only born to serve and obey him.
Near this rich man's house there lived an honest and industrious
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 labour 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 labour 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 neighbours.
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 exercise, 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 servants
spoke ill of him behind his back, and all his neighbours, whom he
oppressed, hated him. For these reasons he was 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 behold this without anger.
"What !" said he, "shall a wretch, a peasant, a low-born fellow,
that weaves bulrushes for a scanty subsistence, be always happy and
pleased, while I, that am a gentleman, possessed of riches and power,
and of more consequence than a million of reptiles like him, am
always melancholy and discontented "
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 happier than himself.
With this wicked design he one night gave orders to his servants
(who did not dare to disobey him) to set fire to the rushes which sur-
rounded 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 consumed 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 neighbour, whom he had never offended; but, as he was
unable to punish him for this injustice, 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 that 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 import-
ance, and attempted to commit the most scandalous 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 con-
sent to the plan I have formed, and go 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 ; 1 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 wherever you please to send
me; and, though I would not treat this man as he has treated me,
yet should I 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 strangers 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 round them
in great numbers. The rich man seeing himself thus exposed, with-
out assistance or defence, in the midst of a barbarous people, whose
language he did not understand, 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 hardships 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 assistance in fishing and carrying wood.
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 labour, 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 with 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 very unfit for labour.
The rich man now began to perceive with how little reason he had
before valued himself, and despised his fellow-creatures; and an
accident that fell out shortly after tended to complete his mortifica-
tion. 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 a 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 he danced and capered
with joy, and ran away to seek the rest, who were all struck with
astonishment at this new and elegant piece of finery. It was not long
before another came to the basket-maker, making signs that he
wanted to be ornamented like his companion ; and with such plea-
sure were these chaplets considered by the whole nation, that the
basket-maker was'released from his former drudgery, and continually
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 kindness. But the rich man,
who possessed neither talents to please nor strength to labour was
condemned to be the basket-maker's servant, and to cut him reeds
to supply the continual 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 to the man you in-
sulted, 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 endeavoured to ruin."


Upon this the basket-maker said, after thanking the magistrate
for his goodness, I, having been bred up in poverty, and accus-
tomed to labour, have no desire to acquire riches, which I should
not know how to use; all, therefore, that I require of this man is,
to put me into the same situation I was in before, and to learn more
The rich man could not help being astonished at this generosity,
and, having acquired wisdom by his misfortunes, 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 pupils used con-
stantly 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 reading, used to entertain them with some
pleasant story or other, which Tommy always listened to with the
greatest 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 retired to the sum-
mer-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 same 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 my-
self: and why (thinks he) may not I do what another has done?
To be sure little Harry is clever; but he could not have read if he
had not been taught; and if I am taught I daresay I shall learn to
read as well as he. Well, as soon as ever he comes home I am
determined 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? "
Harry. Why, Mr. Barlow taught me my letters, and then spell-
ing ; and then, by putting syllables together, I learnt to read.
Tommy. And could not you show me my letters?
Harry. Yes, very willingly.

Harry then took up a book, and Tommy was so eager and atten-
tive, that at the very first lesson he learned the whole alphabet. He
was infinitely pleased with his 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 a dis- '
play of his talents. Accordingly, one day, when they were all as-
sembled 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 proficiency, and,
taking up the book, read with great fluency-


IN a part of the world where there are many strong and fierce wild
beasts, a poor man happened to bring up two puppies, 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 plentiful kitchen, where
he quickly became the favourite of the servants, who diverted them-
selves 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 con-
siderably in size, and grew sleek and comely ; he was, indeed, rather
unwieldy, and so cowardly that he would run away from a dog only
half as big as himself: he was much addicted to gluttony, and was
often beaten for the thefts he committed in the pantry ; but, as he
had learned to fawn upon the footmen, 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 neighbourhood.


Keeper, in the meantime, who lived at a cottage in the country,
neither fared so well, looked so plump, nor had learned all these
little tricks to recommend him; but as his master was too poor to
maintain anything but what wac useful, and was obliged to be con-
tinually in the air, subject to all kinds of weather, and labouring hard
for a livelihood, Keeper grew hardy, active, and diligent; he was
also exposed to continual danger from the wolves, from whom he
had received many a severe bite while guarding the flocks. These
continual combats gave him that degree of intrepidity, that no
enemy could make him turn his back. His care and assiduity so
well defended the sheep of his master, that not one had ever been
missing since they were placed under his protection. His honesty,
i 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 what-
ever his master chose to give him. From a continual life in the air,
he was become so hardy that no tempest could drive him to shelter
when he ought to be watching the flocks; and he would plunge into
the most rapid river, in the coldest weather 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 day walking in a thick wood, with no other company than
the two dogs, a hungry wolf, with eyes that sparkled like fire, brist-
ling 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 espe-
ciallywhen he saw that his faithful Jowler, instead of coming to his
assistance, ran sneaking away, with his tail between his legs, howling
with fear. 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 courage and
skill, that he was compelled to exert all his strength in his own de-
fence. The battle was long and bloody, but in the end Keeper laid
the wolf dead at his feet, though not without receiving several severe
wounds himself, and presenting a bloody and mangled spectacle to
the eyes of his master, who came up at that instant. The gentle-


man was filled with joy for his escape and gratitude to his brave
deliverer; and learned by his own experience that appearances are
not always to be trusted, and that great virtues and good disposi-
tions may sometimes be found where we least expect them.

"Very well, indeed," said Mr. 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 devoured, or the poor, rough, ragged.
meagre, neglected cur that exposed his own life in his defence?"
Indeed, sir," said Tommy, I would have rather 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 behaviour of Keeper,
that he desired the poor man to make him a present of the dog;
which, though with some reluctance, he complied with. Keeper was
therefore taken to the city, where he was caressed and fed by every-
body, and the disgraced Jowler was left at the cottage, with strict
injunctions to the man to hang him up, as a worthless unprofitable
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 for 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 dayJowler was in every respect treated
as his brother Keeper had been before. He 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 fireside; but the farmer's wife soon drove
him out of doors, and compelled him to bear the rigour of the
weather. In consequence of this he daily became more vigorous and
hardy, and in a few months regarded cold and rain no more than if
he had been brought up in the country.
Changed as he already was in many respects for the better, 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 suffer 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 pusillanimous ; and there was very soon no dog
in the country who was so great a terror to beasts of prey.
In the meantime 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 services. 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 country, and
taking his dog with him, was willing that he should exercise his
prowess once more against his ancient enemies the wolves. Ac-
cordingly, the country people having quickly found one in a neigh-
bouring 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 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 favourite, and
admiring the noble spirit of the other dog, whom, to his infinite sur-
prise, hl 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 a life of indolence and repose, and that
constant exercise and proper discipline are frequently able to change
contemptible characters into good ones."

"Indeed," said Mr. Barlow, when the story was ended, "I am
sincerely glad to find that Tommy has made this acquisition. He
will now depend upon nobody, but be able to divert himself when-
ever 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 lilie what we have heard to-day, or to read the
actions of great and good men in history, or to make himself ac-
quainted 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 one day seeing him a very sensible
man, capable of teaching and instructing others."
"Yes," said Tommy, something elated by all this praise, I am
determined to make myself as clever as anybody; and I don't doubt,
though I am such a little fellow, that I know more already than
many grown-up people ; and 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 sanity,
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, that sometimes prevented
them from appearing. He was in particular very passionate, and
thought he had a right to command everybody that was not dressed
as fine as himself. This opinion often led him into inconveniences,
and once was the occasion of his being 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 ball; upon which Tommy called out 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."
"Oh you are not?" replied Tommy ; "then bring me my ball
"I don't choose it," said'the boy.
But," sAid Tommy, "if I come to you, I shall make you choose
Perhaps not, my pretty little master," said the boy.


"You little rascal!" 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 by a loud laugh, which pro-
voked Tommy so much that he clambered over the hedge and jumped
precipitately down, intending to have leaped into the field; but un-
fortunately his foot slipped, and down lie rolled into a wet ditch,
which was full of mud and water. There poor Tommy tumbled
about for some time, endeavouring to get out; but it was to no pur-
pose, for his feet stuck in the mud or slipped off from the bank; his
fine waistcoat was dirtied all over, his white stockings covered with
mire, his breeches filled with puddle-water; and, to add to his dis-
tress, he first lost one shoe and then the other-his 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 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 careful for the future how he attempted to thrash little
ragged boys.
The next day Mr. Barlow desired Harry, when they were all to-
gether in the arbour, to read the following story of-


THERE was a certain slave named Androcles, who was so ill treated
by his master that his life became insupportable. Finding no remedy
for what he suffered, he at length said to himself,-" It is better to
die than to continue to live in such hardships and misery as I am
obliged to suffer. I am determined, therefore, to run away from my
master. If I am taken again, I know that I shall be punished with
a cruel death ; but it is better to die at once than to live in misery.
If I escape, I must betake myself to deserts and woods, inhabited
only by beasts; but they cannot use me more .. ..: lian I have
been used by my fellow-creatures ; therefore I I. I trust my-
self with them, than continue to be a miserable slave."
Having formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of leaving
his master's house, and hid himself in a thick forest, which was at
some miles distance from the city. But here the unhappy man found



that he had only escaped from one kind of misery to experience another.
He wandered about all day through avast and trackless.wood, where
his flesh was continually torn by thorns and brambles : he grew
hungry, 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 by accident.

Poor man said Harry, whose little heart could scarcely con-
tain itself at this mournful recital, "I wish I could have met with
him; I.would have given him all my dinner, and he should have
had my bed. But pray, sir, tell me why does one man behave so
cruelly to another, and why should one person be the servant of
another, and bear so much ill treatment?"
"As to that," said Tommy, "some folks are born gentlemen, and
then they must command others : and some are born servants, and
then they must do as they are bid. 1 remember, before I came
hither, that there were a great many black men and women, that my
mother said were only born to wait upon me; and I used to beat them,
and kick them, and throw things at them whenever I was angry;
and they never dared strike me again, because they were slaves."*
"And pray, young man," said Mr. Barlow, "how came these
people to be slaves ? "
Tommy. Because my father bought them with his money.
Mr. Barlow. So, then, people that are bought with money are
slaves, are they?
Tommny. Yes.
Mr. Barlow. And those that buy them have a right to kick them,
and beat them, and do as they please with them?
Tommy. Yes.
1Mr. Barlow. Then if I was to take and sell you to Farmer Sand-
ford, he would have a right to do what he pleased with you.
"No, sir," said Tommy, somewhat warmly; "but you would have
no right to sell me, nor he to buy me."
Mr. Barlow. Then it is not a person's being bought or sold that
gives another a right to use him ill, but one person's having a right to
sell another, and the man who buys having a right to purchase?
Tomimy. Yes, sir.
Mr. Barlow. And what right have the people who sold the poor
negroes to your father to sell them, or what right had your father to
buy them ?
, At the period when Tommy Merton lived, slavery was not abolished in our West
Indian possessions.-[EDITOR.]


Here Tommy seemed to be a good deal puzzled, but at length he
said, "They are brought from a country that is a great way off, in
ships, and so they become slaves."
"Then," said Mr. Barlow, if I take you to another country in a
ship, I shall have a right to sell you? "
Tommy. No, but you won't, sir, because I was born a gentleman.
Afr. Barlow. What do you mean by that, Tommy?
"Why," said Tommy, a little confounded, "to have a fine house
and fine clothes, and a coach and a great deal of money, as my papa
AIr. Barlow. Then it you were no longer to have a fine house, nor
fine clothes, nor a great deal of money, somebody that had all these
things might make you a slave, and use you ill, and beat you, and
insult you, and do whatever he liked with you ?
Tommy. No, sir, that would not be right neither, that anybody
should use me ill.
Mr. Barlow. Then one person should not use another ill?
Tommy. No, sir.
Air. Barlow. To make a slave of anybody is to use him ill, is it
Tommy. I think so.
Afr. Barlow. Then no one ought to make a slave of you ?
Tommy. No; indeed, sir.
Mr. Barlow. But if no one should use another ill, and making a
slave is using him ill, neither ought you to make a slave of any one
Tommy. Indeed, sir, I think not; and for the future I never will
use our black William ill, nor pinch him, nor kick him, as I used to
A r. Barlow. Then you will be a very good boy. But let us now
continue our story.

This unfortunate man had not lain 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 pos-
sibility of retreat. The unfortunate man now believed his destruction
to be inevitable ; but, to his great astonishment, the beast advanced
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 assist-
ance of the man.

Androcles, who was naturally of a resolute disposition, acquired
courage from this circumstance to examine his monstrous guest, who
gave him sufficient leisure for that purpose. He saw, as the lion
approached him, that he seemed to limp 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 demeanour of the
beast, he advanced up to him, and took hold of the wounded paw,
as a surgeon would examine a patient. He then perceived that a
thorn of uncommon size had 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 resenting this familiarity,
received it with the greatest gentleness, and seemed to invite him by
his blandishments to proceed. He therefore extracted the thorn,
and, pressing the swelling, discharged a considerable quantity of
matter, which had been the cause of so much pain and 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, wagged his enormous tail, and
licked' the feet and hands of his physician. Nor was he contented
with these demonstrations of kindness: from this moment Andro-
cles became his guest; nor did the lion ever sally forth in quest of
prey without bringing home the produce of his chase, and sharing
it with his friend. In this savage state of hospitality did the man
continue to live during the space of several months. At length,
wandering unguardedly 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
When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy man was ex-
posed, unarmed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed on every
side, round which many thousand people were assembled 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
flaming eyes, and jaws that gaped like an open sepulchre. A mourn-
ful silence instantly prevailed All eyes were directly turned upon
the destined victim, whose destruction now appeared inevitable.


But the pity of the multitude was soon converted into astonishment,
when they beheld the lion, instead of destroying his defenceless prey,
crouch submissively at his feet, fawn upon him as a faithful dog
would do upon his master, and rejoice over him as a mother that
unexpectedly recovers her offspring. The governor of the town, who
was present, then called out with a loud voice, and ordered Andro-
cles to explain to them this unintelligible mystery, and how a savage
of the fiercest and most unpitying nature should thus in a moment
have forgotten his innate disposition, and be converted into a harm-
less 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 gratitude and moved by humanity; and they
unanimously joined to entreat for the pardon of the unhappy man
from the governor 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, had been so fierce and
cruel that they would have torn everything they met to 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
upon flesh, like dogs and cats, and many other kinds of animals.
When they are not hungry they seldom meddle with anything, or do
unnecessary mischief; therefore they are much less cruel than many
persons that I have seen, and even than many children, who plague
and torment animals, without any reason whatsoever."
Indeed, sir," said H-arry, I think so. And I remember, as I
was walking along the road some days past, I saw a little naughty
boy that used a poor jackass 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 go on faster."
"And what did you say to him? said Mr. Barlow.
Harry. 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 some-
body that was stronger than himself.
Mr. Barlow. And what answer did he make you?

Harry. He said that it was his daddy's ass, and so that he had a
right to beat it; and that-if I said a word more he would beat me.
Mr. Barlow. And what answer did you make-any?
Harrv. I told him, if it was his father's ass, 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 as I was.
Jr. Barlow. And did he strike you?
Harry. Yes, sir. He endeavoured 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 again, but I darted at him, and knocked
him down, and then he began blubbering, and begged me not to hurt
kMr. Barlow. It is not uncommon for those who are most cruel to
be at the same time most cowardly; but what did you?
Harry. Sir, I told him I did not want to hurt him; but that as he
had meddled with me, I would not let him rise till he had promised
not to hurt the poor beast any more, which he did, and then I let
him go about his business.
"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 ball."
Mr. Barlow. And what right had you to oblige him to bring your
Tommy. He was a little ragged boy, and I am a gentleman.
Mir. Barlow. So then, every gentleman has a right to command
little ragged boys ?
Tommy. To be sure, sir.
ir. Barlow. 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."
Mr. Barlow. And so he probably would .have done if you had
asked him civilly to do it; but when persons speak in a haughty tone,
they will .ind few inclined to serve them. But, as the boy was poor
and ragged, I suppose you hired him with money to fetch your ball?
Tommy. Indeed, sir, I did not; I neither gave him anything nor
offered him anything.


Mr. Barlow. Probably you had nothing to give him?
Tommy. Yes, I had, though; I had all this money (pulling out
several shillings).
Mr. Barlow. Perhaps the boy was as rich as you?
Tommy. No, he was not, sit, I am sure; for he had no coat, and
his waistcoat and breeches were all tattered and ragged; besides, he
had no stockings, and his shoes were full of holes.
Mr. Barlow. So, now I see what constitutes a gentleman. A gen-
tleman is one that, when he has abundance of everything, keeps it
all to himself; beats poor people if they don't serve him for nothing;
and when they have done him the greatest favour, in spite of his in-
solence, never feels any gratitude, or does them any good in return.
I find that Androcles' lion was no gentleman.
Tommy was so affected with this rebuke that he could hardly con-
tain 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 gathering blackberries, and, going up to him, accosted him
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 and sisters,
and they are all as ragged as myself; but I should not much mind
that if I could have food enough."
Tommy. And why cannot you have food enough?
Little Boy. Because daddy's ill of a fever, and can't work this har-
vest. So that mammy 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, whence
he presently returned, loaded with a loaf of bread and a complete
suit of his own clothes.
"Here, little boy," said he, you were very good-natured to me;
and so I will give you all this, because I am a gentleman, and have
many niore."
Tommy did not wait for the little boy's acknowledgment, but
hastened away, and told Mr. Barlow, with an air of exultation, what
he had done.
Mr. Barlow coolly answered, "You have done well in giving the
little boy clothes, because they are your own ; but what right have
you to give away my loaf of bread without asking my consent ?"
Tommy. Why, sir, 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.
Mr. Barlow. This is a very good reason why you should give them
what belongs to yourself, but not why you should give them what is
another's. What would you say if Harry were to give away all your
clothes without asking your leave?
Tommy. I should not like it at all; 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."


CYRUS was a little boy of good dispositions and humane temper.
He was very fond of drawing, and often went into the fields for the
purpose of taking sketches of trees, houses, &c., which he would
show to his parents. On one occasion he had retired into a shed at
the back of his father's house, and was so much absorbed in plan-
ning something with his compasses, as not to be for a long time
aware of his father's presence. He had several masters, who en-
deavoured to teach him everything that was good; and he was
educated with several little boys about his own age. One evening
his father asked him what he had done or learned that day.
Sir," said Cyrus, I was punished to-day for deciding unjustly."
How so?" said his father.
Cyrus. There were two boys, 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 below 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's 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 deserved to be punished."

Just as the story was finished, they were surprised to see a little
ragged boy come running up to them with a bundle of clothes under
his arm. His eyes were black, as if he had 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 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's the matter? said Mr. Barlow, who perceived that some
unfortunate accident had happened in consequence of Tommy's
"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, 1 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 of good-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 little 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 good
thump, 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 to look like a Frenchman;
and so I have brought master his clothes again."
Mr. Barlow asked the little boy where his father lived; and he
told him that his father lived about two miles off, across the com-
mon, 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 meantime 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
but some clothes that the poor boy could wear, for he seems very
good-natured; I would give them to him."
That 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 morning to
buy some clothes for the poor children. And when they reached the
village, 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 carry
them yourself?"
Tommy. Why, it is not fit for a gentleman to carry things him-
H-arry. Why, what hurt does it do him, if he is but strong
enough ?
Tommy. I do not know; but I believe it is that he may not look
like the common people.
Harry. Then he should not have hands, or feet, or ears, or mouth,
because the common people have the same.
Tommy. No, no ; he must have all these, because they are useful.
Harry. And is it not useful to be able to do things for ourselves?
Tommy. Yes; but gentlemen have others to do what they want for
Harry. Then I should think it must be a bad thing to be a gentle-
Tommy. Why so?
Harry. Because, if all were gentlemen, nobody would do anything,
and then we should be all starved.
Tommy. Starved !


Harry. Yes: why, you could not live, could you, without bread?
Tommy. No; I know that very well.
Hamy. And bread is made of a plant that grows in the earth, and
it is called wheat.
Tommy. Why, then I would gather it and eat it.
Harry. 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.
Tommy. No, certainly; but how comes bread, then?
HaNry. Why, they send the corn to the mill.
Tommzy. What is a mill?
Harry. What! did you never see a mill?
Tommy. No, never; but I should like to see one, that I may know
how they make bread.
Harry. There is one at a little distance; and if you ask Mr.
Barlow, he will go with you, for he knows the miller very well.
Tommy. That I will, for I should like to see them make bread.
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 French-
man, 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 poor 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 that he had never spent any money with so
much pleasure as that with which he had purchased clothes for this
poor family, and that for the future he would take care of all the
money that was given him for that purpose, instead of laying it out
in eatables and playthings.
Some days after this, as Mr. Barlow and the two boys were walk-
ing out together, they happened to pass near a windmill; and, upon
Harry's telling Tommy what it was, Tommy desired leave to go into
it and look at it. Mr. Barlow consented to this, and being acquainted
with the miller, they all went in and examined every part of it with
great curiosity; and there little Tommy saw with astonishment that
the sails of the mill, being constantly turned round by the wind,
moved a great flat stone, which by rubbing upon another stone,

bruised all the corn that was put between them till it became a fine
Oh, dear said Tommy, "is this the way they make bread? "
Mr. Barlow told him this was the method by which the corn was
prepared for making bread ; but that many other things were neces-
sary before it arrived at that state. You see that what runs from
these millstones is only a fine powder, very different from bread,
which is a solid and tolerably hard substance."
As they were going home Tommy said to Harry, "So you see
now, if nobody chose to work, or do anything for himself, we should
have no bread to eat; but you could not even have the corn to make
it of without a great deal of pains and labour.
Tommy. Why not? does not corn grow in the ground itself?
Harry. Corn grows in the ground; but then first it is necessary
to plough the ground, to break it to pieces.
Tommy. What is ploughing?
Harry. Did you never see three or four horses drawing something
along the fields in a straight line, while one man drove, and another
walked behind holding the thing by two handles ?
Tommy. Yes, I have. And is that ploughing?
Harry. It is; and there is a sharp iron underneath, which runs
into the ground and turns it up all the way it goes.
Tommy. Well, and what then?
Harry. When the ground is thus prepared, they sow the seed all
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 corn
ripens, and they reap it and carry it home.
Tommy. That must be very curious I I should like to sow some
seed myself, and see it grow: do you think I could?
Harry. 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
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 tel-
ing Mr. Barlow what he had done, and asking him whether he was
not a very good boy for working so hard to raise corn.
"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
"Why, sir," said Tommy, "I intend to send it to the mill that we
saw, and have it ground into flour; and then I will get you to show

me hew to make bread of it, and then I will eat it, that I may tell
m) fol,.:' that I have eaten bread out of corn of my own sawing."
I i. will be very well done," said Mr. Barlow; but where will
be the great goodness that you sow corn 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 gentlemen eat
as well as others, and therefore is it not for their interest to know
how to procure food as well as other people?"
"Yes, sir," answered Tommy; but they can have other people
to raise it for them, so that they are not obliged to work for them-
How does that happen?" said Mr. Barlow
Tommy. Why, sir, they pay other people to work for them, or buy
bread when it is made, as much as they want.
Mr. Barlow. Then they pay for it with money?
Tommy. Yes, sir.
Mr. Barlow. Then they must have money before they can buy
corn ?
Tommy. Certainly, sir.
Mr. Barlow. But have all gentlemen money?
Tommy hesitated some time at this question; at last he said, I
believe not always, sir."
Mr. Barlow. Why, then, 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 anybody good-natured enough to give it them."
But," said Mr. Barlow, "as we are talking on this subject, I will
tell you a story that I heard a little time past, if you choose to hear
Tommy said he should be very glad if Mr. Barlow would take the
trouble of telling it to him, and Mr. Barlow told him the following
history of

ABOUT the time that many people went over to South America, with
the hopes of finding gold pnd silver, there was a Spaniard, whose
name was Pizarro, who had a great inclination to try his fortune like
the rest; but as he had an elder 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 him that he should have
an equal share of all the riches 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 uncertainty of his suc-
ceeding; but finding all that he said 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 favour 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 em-
barked 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 sWme
corn, together with a large quantity of potatoes, and some seeds of
different vegetables. Pizarro thought these very odd preparations
for a voyage; but as he did not think proper to expostulate with his
brother, he said nothing.
After sailing 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 labourers to assist him in the work. Alonzo,
on the contrary, bought only a few sheep, and four stout oxen, with
their harness, and food enough to subsist them till they should
arrive at land.
As it happened, they met with a favourable voyage, and all landed
in perfect health in Anerica. Alonzo 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 cattle, while he went to search for gold,
and when he had acquired as 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 com-
"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 was 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 soon be en-
riched for the rest of our lives."
All that were present applauded Pizarro's speech, and declared
themselves ready to follow wherever he went; only one old Spaniard
shook his head as he went, and told him he doubted whether he
would find his brother so great a fool as he thought.
They then travelled on several days' march into the country-
sometimes obliged to cross rivers, at others to pass mountains and
forests, where they could find no path ; sometimes scorched by the
violent heat of the sun, and then wetted 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 a consider-
able quantity. This success animated them very much, and they
continued working upon that spot till all their provisions were con-
sumed ; they gathered daily large quantities of ore, but then they
suffered very much from hunger. Still, however, they persevered in
their labours, 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 toavery
different purpose. His skill in husbandry had easily enabled him to
find a spot of considerable extent and 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
planted the potatoes, which prospered beyond what he could have
expected, and yielded him a most abundant harvest. His sheep
he had turned out in avery fine meadow near the sea, and every one of
them had brought him a couple of lambs. 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 very 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 from the want of provisions, He 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 trees., Alonzo then very coolly answered that
he should remember that, when they set out, they had made an
agreement that neither should interfere with the other; that he had
never desired to have any share of the gold which Pizarro might
acquire, and therefore he wondered that Pizarro should expect to be
supplied with the provisions that he had procured with so much care
and labour; "but," added he, "if you choose to exchange some of
the gold you have found for provisions, I shall perhaps be able to
accommodate you.
Pizarro thought this behaviour 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 exorbitant, that in a very
short time they parted with all the gold they had brought with them,
merely to purchase food. Alonzo 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 favourable; but Pizarro,
with an angry look, told him that since he had deprived him of every-
thing he had gained, and treated him in so unfriendly a manner, he
should go without him ; for, as to himself, he would rather pdrish
upon that desert shore than embark with so inhuman a brother.
But Alonzo, instead of resenting these reproaches, embraced his
brother with the greatest tenderness, and spoke to him in the follow-
ing manner:
Could you, then, believe, my dearest Pizarro, that I really meant
to deprive you of the fruits of all your labours, which you have ac-
quired with so much toil and danger? Rather may all the gold in
the universe perish than I should be capable of such behaviour to my
dearest brother. But I saw the rash, impetuous desire you had of
riches, and wished to correct this fault in you, and serve you at the
same time. You despised my prudence and industry, and imagined
that nothing could be wanting to him that had once acquired wealth;
but you have now learned that without that foresight and industry,
all the gold you have brought with you would not have prevented
you from perishing 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 was equally filled with gratitude and astonishment at this
generosity of his brother, and he acknowledged from experience that
industry 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 con-
stantly refused, telling him that he could raise food enough to main-
tain himself, and was in no want of gold.

"Indeed," said Tommy, when Mr. Barlow had finished the story,
"I think Alonzo was a very sensible man; and, if it had not been
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 happened in England ; there they
could always have had as much corn or bread as they chose for theit
But," says Mr. Barlow, is a man sure to be always in England,
or some place where he can purchase bread?"
Tommy. I believe so, sir.
Mr. Barlow. Why, are there not countries in the world where
there are no inhabitants, and where no corn is raised?
Tommy. Certainly, sir; this country which the two brothers went
to, was such a place.
Mr. Barlow. And there are many other such countries in the
Tommy. But, then, a man need not go to them; he may stay at
Mr. Barlow. Then he must not pass the seas in a ship.
Tommy. Why so, sir?
Mr. Barlow. Because the ship may happen to be wrecked on some
such country, where there are no inhabitants; and then, although
he should escape the danger of the sea, what will he do for food?
Tommy. And have such accidents sometimes happened?
Mr. Barlow. Yes, several; there was, in particular, one Selkirk,
who was shipwrecked, and obliged to live several years upon a desert
island. But a still more extraordinary story is that of some Russians,
who were left on the coast of Spitzbergen, where they were obliged
to stay several years.
Tommy. Where is Spitzbergen, sir?
Mr. Barlow. It is a country very far to the north, which is con-
stantly covered with snow and ice, because the weather is unremit-
tingly severe. Scarcely any vegetables will grow upon the soil, and
scarcely any animals are found in the country. To add to this, a
great part of the year it is covered with perpetual darkness, and it is
inaccessible to ships: so that it is impossible to conceive a more
dreary country, or where it must be more difficult to support human
life. Yet four men were capable of struggling with all these difficul-


ties during several years, and three of them returned at last safe to
their own country.
Tommy. This must be a very curious story indeed; I would give
anything to be able to see it.
Mr. Barlow. That you may very easily. When I read it, I copied
off several parts of it, I thought it so curious 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 information,
you will easily understand the distressful situation of a Russian ship,
which, as it was sailing on 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.

Extracts from a Narrative of the Extraordinary Adventures of
Four Russian Sailors, who were cast away on the Desert Island
of East Spitzbergen.

"In this alarming state (that is, when the ship was surrounded
with ice) a council was held, when the mate, Alexis HIinkof, informed
them, that he recollected to have heard that some of the people of
Mesein, some time before, having formed a resolution of wintering
upon this island, had carried from that city timber proper for build-
ing a hut, and had actually erected one at some distance from the
shore. This information induced the whole company to resolve on
wintering there, if the hut, as they hoped, still existed; for they
clearly perceived the imminent danger they were in, and that they
must inevitably perish if they continued in the ship. They dis-
patched, therefore, four of their crew in search of the hut, or any
other succor they could meet with. These were Alexis Hinkof, the
mate, Iwan Hinkof, his godson, Stephen Scharassof, and Feodor
"As the shore on which they were to land was uninhabited, it
was necessary that they should make some provision for their ex-
pedition. They had almost two miles to travel over those ridges of
ice, which being raised 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 overburdened, they might sink in between the pieces of ice,
and perish. Having thus maturely considered the nature of their
undertaking, they provided themselves with a musket, and powder-
horn containing twelve charges of powder, with as many balls, an
axe, a small kettle, a bag with about twenty pounds of flour, a knife,
a tinder-box and tinder, a bladder filled with tobacco, and every man
his wooden pipe.
Thus accoutred, these four sailors quickly arrived on the island,
little expecting the misfortunes that would befall them. They began
with exploring the country, and soon discovered the hut they were
in search of, about an English mile and a half from the shore. It
was thirty-six feet in length, eighteen feet in height, and as many
in breadth: it contained a small antechamber, about twelve feet
broad, which had two doors, the one to shut it up from the outer air,
the other to form a communication with the inner room : this con-
tributed greatly to keep the large room warm when once heated. In
the large room was an earthen stove, constructed in the Russian
manner; that is, a kind of oven without a chimney, which served
occasionally either for baking, for heating the room, or, as is cus-
tomary among the Russian peasants in very cold weather, for a place
to sleep upon. Our adventurers rejoiced greatly at having dis-
covered the hut, which had, however, suffered much from the
weather, it having now been built a considerable time; they, how-
ever, contrived to pass the night in it.
"Early next morning they hastened to the shore, impatient 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 the
day before had covered the ocean. A violent storm, which had
risen 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 violence 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 after-
wards received of her, it is most probable that she sank, and that all
on board of her perished.
This melancholy event depriving the unhappy men of all hope


of ever being able to quit the island, they returned to the hut whence
they had come, ful of horror and despair.
"Their first attention was employed, as may easily be imagined,
in devising means of providing subsistence, and for repairing their
hut. The twelve charges of powder which they had brought with
ihn ''....,, procured them as many reindeer-the island, fortunately
2,r i.. i- abounding in these animals. 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 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 less 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 animals,
renders them equally unfit for the production of vegetables. No
species of tree or even shrub is found in any of the islands of Spitz-
bergen-a circumstance of the most alarming nature to our sailors.
Without fire it was impossible to resist the rigour of the climate,
and, without wood, how was the fire to be produced or supported?
However, in wandering along the beach, they collected plenty of
wood, which had been driven ashore by the waves, and which at
first consisted of the wrecks of ships, and afterwards of whole trees
with their roots-the produce of some hospitable (but to them.un-
known) climate, which the overflowing of rivers or other acci-
dents had sent into the ocean. Nothing proved of more essential
service to these unfortunate men, during the first year of their exile,
than some boards they found upi the beach, having a long iron
hook, some nails of about five or s.... .ches long, and proportionably
thick, and other bits of old iron fixed in them-the melancholy relics
of some vessels cast away in those remote parts. These were thrown
ashore by the waves at the time when the want of powder gave our
men repspn to apprehend that they must fall a prey to hunger, as
they had nearly consumed those reindeer they had killed. This
lucky circumstance was attended with another equally fortunate:
they found on the shore the root of a fir-tree, which nearly approached

to the figure of a bow. As necessity has ever been the mother of in-
vention, so 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 them 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 hammer, 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 ; a round
button at one end of the hook served for the face of the hammer. A
large pebble supplied the place of an anvil, and a couple of rein-
deers' 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 as fast as possible, with thongs made of rein-
deers' 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, after a most dangerous encounter, they killed the formidable
creature, and thereby made a new supply of provisions. The flesh
of this animal they relished exceedingly, as they thought it much re-
sembled beeft n taste and flavour. The tendons, they saw with much
pleasure, could, with little or no trouble, be divided into filaments
of what 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 hereby
furnished with strings for their bow.
"The success of our unfortunate islanders in making the spears,
and the use these proved of, encouraged them to proceed, and 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 bears to pieces of fir, to which, by the help of fine
threads of the same, they fastened feathers of sea-fowl, and thus be-
came 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 continuance upon the island, with these
arrows they killed no less than two hundred and fifty reindeer, besides
a great number of blue and white foxes. The flesh of these animals
served them also for food, and their skins for clothing and other
necessary preservatives against the intense coldness of a climate so


I _

i_ j ki




near the Pole. They killed, however, not more than ten white bears
in all, and that not without the utmost danger; for these animals,
being prodigiously strong, defended themselves with astonishing
vigour 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 some 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 attacks threw the poor men into great terror and anxiety,
as they were in almost a perpetual danger of being devoured.
The three different kinds of animals above mentioned-viz., the
reindeer, the blue and white foxes, and the white bears-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, and 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 for some
time reduced to the necessity of eating their meat almost raw, and
without either bread or salt, for they were quite destitute of both.
The intenseness of the cold, together with the want of proper con-
veniences, prevented them from cooking their victuals in a proper
manner. There was but one stove in the hut, and that being set up
agreeable to the Russian taste, was more like an oven, and conse-
quently not well adapted for boiling anything. Wood also was too
precious 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 bears.
"And here I must observe that, suppose they had made the
attempt, it would have still 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 enlight-
ening tbe opposite hemisphere,-the inconceivable quantity of snow,
which is continually falling through the greatest part of the winter,
together with the almost incessant rains at certain seasons,-all these
were almost insurmountable to that expedient. To remedy, there-

fore, n some degree the hardship of eating their meat 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 before, 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 bread,
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 practise it during the whole time
of their confinement upon the island, and always kept up, by that
means, a sufficient stock of provisions. Water 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 this
and other purposes.
"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 remainder they employed in a different
manner equally useful. They soon saw the necessity of keeping up
a continual fire in so cold a climate, and found that, if it should un-
fortunately go out, they had no means of lighting it again; for
though they had a steel and flints, yet they wanted both matches
and tinder. In their excursions through the island they had met
with a slimy loam, or a 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 certainly the most rational
scheme they could have thought of; for to be without a light in a
climate where, during winter, darkness reigns for several months
together, would have added much to their other calamities.
"Having therefore fashioned a kind of lamp, they filled it with
reindeer's fat, and stuck into it some twisted linen shaped into a
wick ; but they had the mortification to find that, as soon as the fat
melted, it not only soaked into the clay but fairly ran out of it on,
all sides. The thing, therefore, was to devise some means of pre-
venting this inconvenience, 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 consistence 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. Succeeding in this attempt, they immediately made
another lamp for fear of an accident, that at all events they might
not be destitute of light; and, when they had done so much, they
thought proper to save the remainder of their flour for similar
purposes. As they had carefully collected whatever happened to be
cast on shore to supply them with fuel, they had found amongst the
wrecks of vessels some cordage and a small quantity of oakum (a kind
of hemp used for caulking 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 almost all the Russian peasants)
were employed to make good 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 most essential part of their cloth-
ing, such as their shirts and drawers, to the use above specified, ex-
posed them the more to the rigour of the climate. They also found
themselves in want of shoes, boots, and other articles of dress ; and,
as winter was approaching, they were again obliged to have recourse
to that ingenuity which necessity suggests, and which seldom fails
in the trying hour of distress. They had skins of reindeer and foxes
in plenty, 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 this subject,
they took to the following method: They soaked the skins for several
days in fresh water till they could pull oft the hair very easily ; they
then rubbed the wet leather with their hands till it was nearly dry,
when they spread some melted reindeer 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 one day to pre-
pare them for being wrought, and then proceeded in the manner
before mentioned, except only that they did not remove the hair.
Thus they soon provided themselves with the necessary materials
for all the parts of dress they wanted. But here another difficulty
occurred: they had neither awls for making shoes or boots, nor
needles for sewing their garments. 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 per-

formed with the assistance of their knife; for, having ground it to a
very sharp point, and heated red hot a kind of wire forged 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
th- 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 shoe-
maker nor tailor amongst them, yet they had contrived to cut out the
leather and furs well enough for their purpose. The sinews of the
bears and, the reindeer-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

"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 wonder-
ful expedients which may be found out, even in the most dismal
"It is very true, indeed," answered Tommy; "but pray what
became of these poor men at last? "
4 After they had lived more than six years upon this dreary and in-
hospitable 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? 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 preserve his life, after
having lingered some time, died, and was buried in the snow by his
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 re-
covered of the hurt it had received, and showed so great a degree of
affection to its protector, that it would run after him like a dog, hop
upon his shoulder, nestle in his bosom, and eat crumbs out of his
hand. Tommy was extremely surprised and pleased to remark its
tameness and docility, and asked by what means it had been made
so gentle. Harry told him he had taken no particular pains about
it; but that, as the poor little creature had been sadly hurt, he had
fed it every day till it was well; and that, in consequence of that


sij lnes, it had conceived a great degree of affection towards
"Indeed," said Tommy, "that is very surprising for I thought
all birds flew away whenever a man came near them, and that even
the fowls which are kept at home would never let you touch them."
Mr.: Barlow. And what do you imagine is the reason of that?
Tommy. Because they are wild.
Mr. Barlow. And what is a fowl's being wild ?
Tommy. When he will not let you come near him.
Mr. Barlow. But I want to know what is the reason of his being
Tommy. Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because they are
naturally so.
Mr. Barlow. But if they were naturally so, this fowl could not be
fond of Harry.
Tommy. That is because he is so good to it.
Mr. Barlow. Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal to
run away from a person that is good to him?
Tommy. No, sir; I believe not.
ir. Barlow. But when a person is not good to him, or endeavours
to hurt him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it
Tommy. Yes.
Mr. Barlow. And then you say he is wild, do you not?
Tommy. Yes, sir.
Mr. Barlow. Why, then, it is probable that animals are only wild
because they are afraid of being hurt, and that they only run away
from the fear of danger. Therefore, if you want to tame animals,
you must be good to them, and treat them kindly, and then the, will
no longer fear you, but come to you and love you.
"Indeed," said Harry, that is very true ; for I knew a little boy
that 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 a nut-
tree and whistle, and the snake would come to him and eat out of
his bowl."
Tommy. And did it not bite him?
Harry. No : he sometimes used to give it a pat with his 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. Accordingly, 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 come hither, little pig! But the
pig, who did not exactly comprehend his intentions, only grunted and
ran away.
"You little ungrateful thing," said Tommy, "do you treat me in
this manner, when I want to feed you? If you do not know your
friends, I must teach you.
So saying this, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by the hind
leg, intending to have given him the bread which he had in his hand;
but the pig, who was not used to be treated in that manner, began
struggling and squeaking to that degree, 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, endeavouring 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
Tom-my, 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 the coolest in his 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
pommelling her with all his might, as she attempted to escape. The
sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such treatment, but en-
deavoured with all her force to escape; but Tommy still keeping
his oold and continuing his discipline, 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
During the heat of this contest a large flock ot geese happened to
be crossing the road, into the midst of which the affrighted sow ran
headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her heels. The goslings
retreated with the greatest precipitation, joining their mournful cack-
ling 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, flew at Tommy and gave him several severe 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 vociferations to the
general scream. This alarmed Mr. Barlow, who, coming up to the
place, found his pupil in the most woeful 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 soon
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 ill treated, but
I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing to anything I have said,
I shall feel the more concern."
No," said Tommy, I cannot say that I am much hurt."
Why, then," said Mr. Barlow, "you had better go and wash
yourself; and, when you are clean, we will talk over the affair
When Tommy had returned, Mr. Barlow asked him how the ac-
cident had happened; 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 leg."
Tomimy,. No, sir; but you told me that feeding animals was the
way to make them love me ; and so I wanted to feed the pig.
A r. Barlow. But it was not my fault that you attempted it in a
wrong manner. The animal did not 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
Same to his assistance. All that happened was owing to your inex-
perience. Before you meddle with any animal, you should make
yourself acquainted with his nature and disposition, otherwise you
Smay fare like the little boy that, in attempting to catch flies, was
stung by a wasp; or like another that, seeing an adder asleep upon
a bank, took it for an eel, and was bitten by it, which had nearly cost
'him his life.
S Tommy. But, sir, I thought Harry had mentioned a little boy that
used to feed a snake, without receiving any hurt from it.
Mr. Barlow. That might very well happen: there is scarcely any
Creature tha' will do hurt, unless it is attacked or wants food; and
Some of these reptiles are entirely harmless, others are 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 have


attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order to tame it;
and it is very lucky that you did not make the experiment upon a
larger animal, otherwise you might have been as badly treated as the
tailor was by the elephant.
Tommy. Pray, sir, what is this curious story? But first tell me,
if you please, what kind of animal an elephant is?
"An elephant," said Mr. Barlow, is the largest land animal that
we are acquainted with. It is many times thicker than an ox, and
grows to the height of eleven or twelve feet. Its strength, as may be
easily imagined, is prodigious ; but it 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 lives upon the fruits and branches
of trees. But what is most singular about its make is that, instead
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 is 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,
doubling the end of it back, discharges it all into his mouth."
But if he is so large and strong," said Tommy, "1 should sup-
pose it must be impossible ever to tame him."
So perhaps it would," replied Mr. Barlow, did they not instruct
those that have already been tamed to assist in catching others.
When they have discovered a forest where these animals resort, they
make a large enclosure with strong pales and a deep ditch, leaving
only one entrance to it, which has a strong gate left purposely open.
They then let one or two of 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 stands ready, shuts the gate,
and takes him prisoner. The animal, finding himself thus entrapped,
begins to grow furious, and attempts to escape; but immediately two
tame ones, of the largest size and greatest strength, who have 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 cord 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 is prepared for him,
where he lives the rest of his life like a horse, or any other sort of
domestic animal."
Tommy. And pray, sir, what did the elephant do to the tailor?


"There was," said Mr. Barlow, "at Surat, a city where many of
these tame elephants are kept, a tailor, who used to sit and work in
his shed close to the place to which these elephants were led every
day to drink. This man contracted a kind of acquaintance with one
of the largest of these beasts, and used to present him with fruits and
other vegetables whenever the elephant passed by his door. The
elephant was accustomed to put his long trunk in at the window, and
to receive in that manner whatever his friend chose to give. But one
day the tailor happened to be in a more than ordinary ill humour,
and not considering how dangerous it might prove to provoke an
animal of that size and strength, when the elephant put his trunk in
at the window as usual, instead of giving him anything to eat, he
pricked him with his needle. The elephant instantly withdrew his
trunk, and, without showing any marks of resentment, went on with
the rest to drink ; but after he had quenched his thirst, he collected
a large quantity of the dirtiest water he could find in his trunk-
which I have already told you is capable of holding many gallons-
and when he passed by the tailor's shop, in his return, he discharged
it full in his face, with so true an aim, that he wetted him all over,
and almost drowned him ; thus justly punishing the man for his ill-
nature and breach of friendship."
"Indeed," said Harry, "considering the strength of the animal,
he must have had a great moderation and generosity not to have
punished the man more severely ; and therefore I think it is a very
great shame to nen ever to be cruel to animals, when they are so
affectionate and humane to them."
"Yon are very right," said Mr. Barlow; "and I remember an-
other 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 impatience which makes them absolutely ungovern-
able. It is then dangerous to come near them, and very difficult to
A restrain 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 are
placed; and the keeper that is used to manage him sits upon the
Sneck of the elephant, and guides him by means of a pole with an iron
hook at the end. Now, as these 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


:he 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 thi:. manner, he chanced to see the wife of his keeper (who had
oftLn fed him as well as her husband), with her young child in her
arms, with which she was endeavouring to escape from his fury. The
wor;:mn ran as fast as she was able ; but, finding that it was im-
pos:ible for her to escape,-because these beasts, although so very
large, are able to run very fast,-she resolutely turned about, and
-hrowing her child down before the elephant, thus accosted him, as
ir he had been capable of understanding her : 'You ungrateful
bucast, is this the return you make for all the benefits we have be-
stowed ? Have we fed you, and taken care of you, by day and night,
during so many years, only that you may at last destroy us all?
S'rush, then, this poor innocent child and me, in return for the
.-crvices 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, 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
Tommy thanked Mr. Barlow for these two stories, and promised
for the 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.
While they were at work, Tommy said, Pray, Harry, did you
ever hear the story of the men that were obliged to live six years upon
that terribly cold country (I forget the name of it), where there is
nothing but snow and ice, and scarcely any animals but great bears."
Harry. Yes, I have.
Tommy. Did not the very thoughts of it frighten you dreadfully?
Harry. No; I cannot say they did.
Tonmmy. Why, should you like to live in such a country?
Harry. No, certainly; I am very happy that I was born in such a
country as this, where the weather is scarcely ever too hot or too
cold; but a man must bear patiently whatever is his lot in this world.
Tommy. That is true. But should you not cry, and be very much
afflicted, if you were left upon such a country?
Harry. I should certainly be very sorry if I was left there alone,
more especially 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 try to help myself.


Tommy. Indeed I think it would; but what could you do?
Harry. Why, I would endeavour to build myself a house, if I could
find myself materials.
Tommy. And what materials is a house made of?
Harry. You know there are houses of different sizes. The houses
that the poor people live in are very different from your father's house.
Tommy. 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 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 would cut
down some branches of trees, and stick them upright in the ground,
near to each other. I would get other branches, more full of small
wood; and these I would interweave between them, just as we make
hurdles to confine the sheep; and then, as that might not be warm
enough to resist the wind and cold, I would cover them over, both
within and without, with clay.
Tommy. Really, I should like to try to make a house; do you think,
Harry; that you and I could make one?
Harry. Yes, if I had wood and clay enough, I think I could, and
a small hatchet to sharpen the stakes and make them enter the ground.
Mr. Barlow then called them in to read, and told Tommy that, as
he had been talking so much about good-nature to animals, he had
looked him out a very pretty story upon the subject, and begged
That be would read it well.
"That I will," said Tommy, "for I begin to like reading ex-
tremely ; and I think that I am happier, too, since I learned it, for
now I can always divert myself."
"Indeed," answered Mr. Barlow, "most people find it so. 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."
STommy then read, with a clear and distinct voice, the following
story of


:, A LITTLE 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
Sthe provision that was to serve him the whole day. As he was walk-
ing along, a poor little half-starved dog came up to him, wagging

his tail, and seeming to entreat 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 certainly in very great necessity: if I give him part of my provision,
I shall be obliged to go home hungry myself; however, as he seems
to want it more than I do, he shall partake with me." Saying this,
he gave the dog part of what he had in the basket, who ate it as if
he had not lasted victuals for a fortnight.
The little boy then went on a little farther, his dog still i.:il: .
him, and fawning upon him with the greatest gratitude .. '.
tion, when lie 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
very much afraid," said the little boy, "if I stay to assist this horse,
that it will be dark before I can return ; and I have heard that there
are several thieves in the neighbourhood; however, I will try-it is
doing a good action to attempt to relieve him, and God Almighty
will take care of me." He then went and gathered some grass, which
he brought to the horse's mouth, who immediately began to eat with
as much relish as if his chief disease was hunger. He then fetched
some water in his hat, which the animal drank up, and seemed im-
mediately to be so much refreshed that, after a few trials, he got up
and began grazing.
The little 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 endeavours. What is the matter, good man?" said the
little boy to him; "can't you find your way out of this pond?"
No, God bless you. my worthy master, or miss," 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 am almost afraid to move for fear of being drowned."
"Well," said the little boy, "though I shall 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 unguardedly go beyond his
depth ; at length he reached the blind man, 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
But he had not proceeded far before he saw a poor sailor, who had

lost both his legs in an engagement by sea, hopping along upon
"God bless you, my little master!" said the sailor; "I have
fought many a battle with the French to defend poor old England,
but now I am crippled, as you see, and have neither victuals nor
money, although I am almost famished."
The little boy could not resist the inclination to relieve him, so he
gave him all his remaining victuals, and said, God help you, poor
man! this is all I have, otherwise you should have more." He then
ran along, and presently arrived at the town he was going to, did his
business, 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 light him.
The poor little boy used his utmost endeavours to find his way, but
unfortunately missed it in turning down a lane which brought him
into a wood, where ne 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 feeble that he could go no farther, but set himself
down upon the ground, crying most bitterly. In this situation he
remained for some time, till at last the little dog, who had never for-
saken him, came up 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 up, and on opening it he found several slices
of bread and meat, which the little boy ate with great satisfaction,
and felt himself extremely refreshed with his meal.
"So," said the little boy, I see that if I have given you a break-
fast, you have given me a supper; and a good turn is never lost.
done even to a dog."
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 find his way out. He was
just going to give up all further attempts in despair, when he hap-
pened to see a horse feeding before him, and, going up to him, saw,
by the light of the moon, which just then began to shine a little, that
it was the very same he had fed in the morning.
Perhaps," said the little boy, this creature, as I have been so
good to hi n, will let me get upon his back, and he may bring me
out of the wood, as he is accustomed to feed in this neighbourhood."
The little boy then went up to the horse, speaking to him and
stroking him, and the horse let him mount his back without opposi-


tion, 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 stayed here all night; I see by this that a good turn is never
But the poor little boy had yet a greater danger to undergo; for,
as he was going down a solitary lane, two men rushed 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 pur-
sued the dog, that ran howling and barking away. In this instant a
voice was heard that cried out, ''There the rascals are! let us knock
them down! which frightened the remaining man so much that he
ran away, and his companion followed him. The little boy then
looked up, and saw that it was the sailor whom he had relieved 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! 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 these villains talk of rob-
bing a little boy, who, from the description, I concluded must be
you; but I was so lame that I should not have been able to come in
time enough to help you if I had not met 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 defending him;
and they went all together to his father's house, which was not far
off, where they were all kindly entertained with a supper and a bed.
The little boy took care of his faithful dog as long as he lived, and
never forgot the importance and 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, "Iam
very much pleased with this story, and I think that it may very likely
be true, for I have myself observed that everything seems to love little
Harry here, merely because he is good-natured to it. I was much
surprised to see the great dog the other day, which I have 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
"That dog," said Mr. Barlow, "will be equally fond 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 good-natured boy,
Harry shall read you another concerning a boy of a contrary disposi-
Harry read the following story of


THERE 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 either good instruction or good example;
in consequence of which this little boy, who might otherwise have
been happier and better, became ill-natured, quarrelsome, and dis-
agreeable to everybody. He very often was severely beaten for his
impertinence by boys that were bigger than himself, and sometimes
by boys that were less ; 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 neighbourhood.
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 and cold 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
his walk.
He had not proceeded far before he met a little boy that was 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, yes, to be sure," answered the ill-natured boy; "I am to
wait here all the morning till you and your sheep have passed, I
suppose. Here, Tiger, seize them, boy!"
Tiger at this sprang forth into the middle of the flock, barking and
biting on every side, and the sheep, in a general consternation,
hurried each a separate way. Tiger seemed to enjoy this sport
equally with his master ; but in the midst of his triumph he happened
unguardedly to attack an old ram that had more courage than the


rest of the liock ; hie, instead of running away, faced about, and
aimed a blow with his forehead at his enemy with so much force and
dexterity, that he knocked Tiger over and over, and, butting him
several times while he was down, obliged him to limp howling
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 temple, and almost knocked him down. He imme-
diately began to cry, in concert with his dog, and perceiving a man
coming towards them, who he fancied might be the owner of
the sheep, he thought it most prudent to escape as speedily as
But he had scarcely recovered from the smart which the blow had
occasioned, before his former mischievous disposition returned,
which he determined to gratify to the utmost. He had not gone far
before he saw a little girl standing by a stile 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 at this stile 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."
"What," said the boy, "you are to have a pudding to-day, are
you, miss?"
"Yes," said the girl, "and a fine piece of roast beef; for there's
uncle Will, and uncle John, and grandfather, and all my cousins,
to dine with us, and we shall be very merry in the evening, I can
assure you; so pray help me up as speedily as possible."
"That I will, miss," said the boy; and, taking up the jug, he
pretended to fix it upon her head ; but just as she had 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 mischievous boy
ran away laughing heartily, and saying, "Good bye, little miss;
give my humble service to uncle Will, and grandfather, and the
dear little cousins."
This prank encouraged him very much; for he thought he had
now certainly escaped without any bad consequences; so he went on
applauding his own ingenuity, and 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 with-
out exerting his evil disposition ; so, taking an opportunity when it
was his turn to fling the ball, instead of flinging it in the way he
ought to have done, he threw it into a deep muddy ditch. The
little boys ran in a great hurry to see what was become of it; and
as they were standing together upon the brink, he gave the outer-
most boy a violent push against his neighbour; he, not being able
to resist the violence, tumbled 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 have punished
him for his ill behaviour; but he patted Tiger upon the back, who
began snarling and growling in such a manner as made them desist.
Thus this mischievous little boy escaped a second time with im-
The next thing that he met with was a poor jackass, feeding very
quietly in a ditch. The little boy, seeing that nobody was within
sight, thought this was an opportunity of plaguing an animal that
was not to be lost ; so he went and cut a large bunch of thorns,
which he contrived to fix upon the poor beast's tail, and then, set-
ting Tiger at him, he was extremely diverted to see the fright and
agony the creature was in. But it did not fare so well with Tiger,
who, while he was baying and biting the animal's heels, received so
severe a kick upon his forehead as laid him dead upon the spot.
The boy, who had no affection for his dog, left him with the greatest
unconcern when he saw what had happened, and, finding himself
hungry, sat down by the wayside to eat his dinner.
He had not been long there before a poor blind man came groping
his way out with a couple of sticks.
"Good morning to you, gaffer," said the boy: "pray, did you
see a little girl come this road, with a basket of eggs upon her head,
dressed in a green gown, with a straw hat upon her head?"
God bless you, master," said the beggar, I am so blind that
I can see nothing; I have been blind these twenty years, and they
call me poor old blind Richard."
Though this poor man was such an object of charity and compassion,
yet the little boy determined, as usual, to play him some trick ; and,
as he was a great liar and deceiver, he spoke to him thus:
Poor old Richard, I am heartily sorry for you with all my heart.
I am just eating my breakfast, and if you will sit down by me I will
give you part and feed you myself."
"Thank you, with all my heart," said the poor man; "and if you

will give me your hand, I will sit by you with great pleasure, my
dear, good little master!"
The little boy then gave him his hand, and pretending to direct
him, guided him to sit down in a large heap of wet manure that lay
by the roadside.
"There," said he, "now you are nicely seated, and I will feed
So, taking a little in his fingers, he was going to put it into the
blind man's mouth; but the man, who now perceived the trick that
had been played him, made a sudden snap at his fingers, and,
getting them between his teeth, bit them so severely that the wicked
boy roared out for mercy, and promised never more to be guilty of
such wickedness.
At last the blind man, after he had put him to very severe pain,
consented to let him go, saying as lie went, "Are you not ashamed,
you little scoundrel, to attempt to do hurt to those who have never
injured you, and to want to add to the sufferings of those who are
already sufficiently miserable? Although you escape now, be assured
that if you do not repent and mend your manners, you will meet
with a severe punishment for your bad behaviour."
One would think that this punishment should have cured him
entirely of his mischievous disposition; but, unfortunately, nothing
is so difficult to overcome as bad habits that have been long indulged.
He had not gone far before he saw a lame beggar, that just made a
shift to support himself by means of a couple of sticks. The beggar
asked him to give him something, and the little mischievous boy,
pulling out his sixpence, threw it down just before him, as if he in-
tended to make him a present of it; but while the poor man was
stooping with difficulty to pick it up, this wicked little boy knocked
the stick away, by which means the beggar fell down upon his face;
and then, snatching up the sixpence, the boy ran away, laughing
very heartily at the accident.
This was the last trick this ungracious boy had it in his power to
play; for, seeing two men come up to the beggar and enter into dis-
course with him, he was afraid of being pursued, and therefore ran
as fast as he was able over several fields. At last he came into a lane
which led into a farmer's orchard, and as he was preparing to clamber
over the fence, a large dog seized him by the leg and held him fast.
He cried out in an agony of terror, which brought the farmer out,
who called the dog off, but seized him very roughly, saying, "So,
sir, you are caught at last, are you? You thought you might come
day after day and steal my apples without detection; but it seems


you are mistaken, and now you shall receive the punishment you
have so long deserved."
The farmer then began to chastise him very severely with a whip
he had in his hand, and the boy in vain protested he was innocent,
and begged for mercy. At last the farmer asked who he was
and where he lived; but when he heard his name he cried out,
"What are you the little rascal that frightened my sheep this
morning, by which means several of them are lost? and do you think
to escape?"
Saying this, he lashed him more severely than before, in spite of
all his cries and protestations. At length, thinking he had punished
him enough, he turned him out of the orchard, bade him go home,
and frighten sheep again if he liked the consequences.
The little boy slunk away, crying very bitterly (for he had been
very severely beaten), and now began to find that no one can long
hurt others with impunity; so he determined to go quietly home, and
behave better for the future.
But his sufferings were not yet at an end; for as he jumped down
from a stile, he felt himself very roughly seized, and, looking up,
found that he was in the power of the lame beggar whom he had
thrown upon his face. It was in vain that he now cried, entreated,
and begged pardon; the man, who had been much hurt by his fall,
thrashed him very severely with his stick before he would part with
him. He now again went on, crying and roaring with pain, but at
least expected to escape without further damage. But here he was
mistaken, for as he was walking slowly through a lane, just as he
turned a corner, he found himself in the middle of the very troop of
boys that he had used so ill in the morning. They all set up a shout
as soon as they saw their enemy in their power without his dog, and
began persecuting him in a thousand various ways. Some pulled
him by the hair, others pinched him; some whipped his legs with
their handkerchiefs, while others covered him with handfuls of dirt.
In vain did he attempt to escape; they were still at his heels, and,
surrounding him on every side, continued their persecutions.
At length, while he was in this disagreeable situation, he happened
to come up to the same jackass he had seen in the morning, and,
making a sudden spring, jumped upon his back, hoping by these
means to escape. The boys immediately renewed their shouts, and
the ass, who was frightened at the noise, began galloping with all his
might, and presently bore him from the reach of his enemies. But
he had little reason to rejoice at his escape, for he found it impossible
to stop the animal, and was every instant afraid of being thrown off


and dashed upon the ground. After he had been thus hurried along
a considerable time, the ass on a sudden stopped short at the door of
a cottage, and began kicking and prancing with so much fury that
the little boy was presently thrown to the ground, and broke his leg
in the fall. His cries immediately brought the family out, among
whom was the very little girl he had used so ill in the morning. But
she, with the greatest good-nature, seeing him in such a pitiable situ-
ation, assisted in bringing him in and laying him upon the bed.
There this unfortunate boy had leisure to recollect himself, and re-
flect upon his own bad behaviour, which in one day's time had ex-
posed him to such a variety of misfortunes; and he determined with
great sincerity, that, if he ever recovered from his present accident,
he would be as careful to take every opportunity of doing good as he
had before been to commit every species of mischief.

When the story was ended, Tommy said it was very surprising to
see how differently the two little boys fared. The one little boy was
good-natured, and therefore everything he met with became his friend
and assisted him in return; the other, who was ill-natured, made
everything his enemy, and therefore he met with nothing but misfor-
tunes and vexations, and nobody seemed to feel any compassion for
him, excepting the poor little girl that assisted him at last, which was
very kind indeed of her, considering how ill she had been used.
"That is very true indeed," said Mr. Barlow: "nobody is loved
in this world unless he loves others and does good to them; and no-
body can tell but one time or other he may want the assistance of the
meanest and lowest; therefore every sensible man will behave well
to everything around him, because it is his duty to do it, because
every benevolent person feels the greatest pleasure in doing good,
and even because it is his own interest to make as many friends as
possible. No one can tell, however secure his present situation may
appear, how soon it may alter, and he may have occasion for the
compassion of those who are now infinitely below him. 1 could show
you a story to that purpose; but you have read enough, and there-
fore you must go out and use some exercise."
"Oh, pray, sir," said Tommy, "do let me hear the story: I think
I could now read for ever without being tired."
No," said Mr. Barlow: "everything has its turn; to-morrow you
shall read, but now we must work in the garden."
Then pray, sir," said Tommy, may I ask a favour of you?"
"Certainly," said Mr. Barlow: "if it is proper for you to have,
there is nothing can give me greater pleasure than to grant it."


"Why, then," said Tommy, "I have been thinking that aman
should know how to do everything in the world."
Mr. Barlow. Very right: the more knowledge he acquires the
Tommy. And therefore Harry and I are going to build a house.
Mfr. Barlow. To build a house Well, and have you laid in a
sufficient quantity of bricks and mortar?
No, no," said Tommy, smiling, Harry and I can build houses
without bricks and mortar."
Mr. Barlow. What are they to be made of, then-cards?
"Dear sir," answered Tommy, "do you think we are such little
children as to want card houses? No: we are going to build real
houses, fit for people to live in. And then, you know, if ever we
should be thrown upon a desert coast, as the poor men were, we shall
be able to supply ourselves with necessaries till some ship comes to
take us away."
iMr. Barlow. And if no ship should come, what then?
Tommy. Why, then, we must stay there all our lives, I am afraid.
.Ar. Barlow. If you wish to prepare yourselves against the event,
you are much in the right, for nobody knows what may happen to
him in this world. What is it, then, you want to make your house?
Tommy. The first thing we want, sir, is wood and a hatchet.
Mr. Barlow. Wood you shall have in plenty; but did ever you
use a hatchet?
Tommy. No, sir.
1Ar. Barlow. Then I am afraid to let you have one, because it is
a very dangerous kind of tool; and if you are not expert in the use
of it, you may wound yourself severely. But if you will let me
know what you want, I, who am more strong and expert, will take
the hatchet and cut down the wood for you.
"Thank you, sir," said Tommy; "you are very good to me,
And away Harry and he ran to the copse at the bottom of the
S garden.
Mr. Barlow then went to work, and presently, by Harry's direc-
tion, cut down several poles about as thick as a man's wrist, and
about eight feet long; these he sharpened at the end, in order to
run into the ground ; and so eager were the two little boys at the
business, tlat, in a very short time, they had transported them all
S to the bottom of the garden ; and Tommy entirely forgot he was a
gentleman, and worked with the greatest eagerness.
Now," said Mr. Barlow, where will you fix your house ?"


Here, I think," answered Tommy, "just at the bottom of this
hill, because it will be warm and sheltered."
So Harry took the stakes and began to thrust them into the ground
at about the distance of a foot, and in this manner he enclosed a
piece of ground which was about ten feet long and eight feet wide
-leaving an opening in the middle, of three feet wide, for a door.
After this was done they gathered up the brushwood that was cut
off, and by Harry's direction they interwove it between the poles in
such a manner as to form a compact kind offence. This labour, as
may be imagined, took them up several days ; however, they worked
at it very hard every day, and every day the work advanced, which
filled Tommy's heart with so much pleasure that he thought himself
the happiest little boy in the universe.
But this employment did not make Tommy unmindful of the story
which Mr. Barlow had promised him; it was to this purport:-


IT happened some centuries ago that a Venetian ship had taken
many of the Turks prisoners, and according to the barbarous
customs of those ages these unhappy men had been sold to different
persons in the city. By accident, one of the slaves lived opposite
to the house of a rich Venetian, who had an only son of the age of
about twelve years. It happened that this little boy used frequently
to stop as he passed near Hamet (for that was the name of the slave),
and gaze at him very attentively. Hamet, who remarked in the face
of the child the appearance of good-nature and compassion, used
always to salute him with the greatest courtesy, and testified the
greatest pleasure in his company. At length the little boy took such
a fancy to the slave that he used to visit him several times in the
day, and brought him such little presents as he had it in his power
to make, and which he thought would be of use to his friend.
But though Hamet seemed always to take the greatest delight in
the innocent caresses of his little friend, yet the child could not help
remarking that Hamet was frequently extremely sorrowful, and he
often surprised him on a sudden when tears were trickling down his
face, although he did his utmost to conceal them. The little boy
was at length so much affected with the repetition of this sight that
he spoke of it to his father, and begged him, if he had it in his
power, to make poor Hamet happy. The father, who was extremely


fond of his son, and besides had observed that he seldom requested
anything that was not generous and humane, determined to see the
Turk himself and talk to him.
Accordingly he went to him the next day, and, observing him for
some time in silence, was struck with the extraordinary appearance
of mildness and honesty which his countenance discovered. At
length he said to him, "Are you that Hamet of whom my son is so
fond, and of whose gentleness and courtesy I have so often heard
him talk?"
"Yes," said the Turk, I am that unfortunate Hamet, who have
now been for three years a captive: during that space of time your
son (if you are his father) is the only human being that seems to have
felt any compassion for my sufferings; therefore, I must confess, he
is the only object to which I am attached in this barbarous country;
and night and morning I pray that Power who is equally the God
,cf Turk-, and Christians, to grant him every blessing he deserves,
'i.-1 .:. [-r. :.:rve him from all the miseries I suffer."
Ir..~1:.. Hamet," said the merchant, "he is much obliged to
.:.u illi..h, from his present circumstances, he does not appear
;..u : ..-p.-..ed to danger. But tell me, for 1 wish to do you good,
Si, I .'- i ia assist you? for my son informs me that you are the
p.rp .:.l ..-:.iinual regret and sorrow."
SI- i '..:-nderful," answered the Turk with a glow of generous
in.li,.--r ri Ithat suddenly animated his countenance, "is it wonder-
f.l iti, i I should pine in silence, and mourn my fate, who am bereft
oCf t.I- fr:t a nd noblest present of nature-my liberty?"
i .%iin t," answered the Venetian, "how many thousands of our
n il :n D:. d- .:u retain in fetters "
I aurr rot answerable," said the Turk, "for the cruelty of my
i::.ir .rr.er, more than you are for the barbarity of yours. But as
.:, r-,, i-fi I have never practised the inhuman custom of enslaving
mi lr ji:l..creatures ; I have never spoiled the Venetian merchants
Sci t-he;u p-r.-perty to increase my riches ; I have always respected the
i r.tiiL: t rnature, and therefore it is the more severe." Here a tear
1li:' I1 ir:.r his eye, and wetted his manly cheek: instantly, how-
-.e. ..: r.-.: electedd himself, and folding his arms upon his bosom,
.;'id -.-.nti bowing his head, he added, "God is good, and man
nu;i :uI..ri.t to His decrees."
T r- \'i r .: tian was affected with this appearance of manly fortitude,
a.d i -,.J Hamet, I pity your sufferings, and may perhaps be able
I... r..i,,:.. tIhm. What would you do to regain your liberty?"
i V\ r-i h would I do ?" answered Hamet; "by the eternal Majesty


of Heaven, I would confront every pain and danger that can appal
the heart of man! "
"Nay," answered the merchant, "you will not be exposed to a
trial. The means of your deliverance are certain, provided your
courage does not belie your appearance."
Name them I name them cried the impatient Hamet; "place
death before me in every horrid shape, and if I shrink-"
Patience," answered the merchant: "we shall be observed; but
hear me attentively. I have in this city an inveterate foe, who has
heaped upon me every injury which can most bitterly sting the heart
of man. This man is as brave as he is haughty; and I must confess
the dread of his strength and valour has hitherto deterred me from
resenting his insults as they deserve. Now, Hamet, your look, your
form, your words, convince me that you were born for manly daring.
Take this dagger: as soon as the shades of night involve the city I
will myself conduct you to the place where you may at once revenge
your friend and regain your freedom."
At this proposal, scorn and shame flashed from the kindling eye
of Hamet, and passion for a considerable time deprived him of the
power of utterance ; at length he lifted his arm as high as his chains
would permit, and cried with an indignant tone, Mighty Prophet!
and are these the wretches to whom you permit yourfaithful votaries
to be enslaved Go, base Christian, and know that Hamet would
not stoop to the vile trade of an assassin for all the wealth of Venice!
noa! not to purchase the freedom of all his race !"
At these words the merchant, without seeming much abashed,
told him he was sorry he had offended him; but he thought freedom
had been dearer to him than he found it was.
"However," added he, as he turned his back, "you will reflect
upon my proposal, and perhaps by to-morrow you may change your
Hamet disdained to answer; and the merchant went his way.
The next day, however, he returned in company with his son, and
mildly accosted Hamet thus:
"The abruptness of the proposal I yesterday made you might
perhaps astonish you, but I am now come to discourse the matter
more calmly with you, and I doubt not, when you have heard my
"Christian," interrupted Hamet, with a severe but composed
countenance, cease at length to insult the miserable with proposals
more shocking than even these chains. If thy religion permit such
acts as those, know that they are execrable and abominable to the


soul of every Mohammedan: therefore from this moment let us
break off all further intercourse, and be strangers to each other."
"No," answered the merchant, flinging himself into the arms o:
Hamet, "let us from this moment be more closely linked than ever!
Generous man, whose virtues may at once disarm and enlighten thy
enemies! fondness for my son first made me interested in thy fate;
but from the moment that I saw thee yesterday I determined to set
thee free: therefore, pardon me this unnecessary trial of thy virtue,
which has only raised thee higher in my esteem. Francisco has a
soul which is as averse to deeds of treachery and blood as even
Hamet himself. From this moment, generous man, thou art free;
thy ransom is already paid, with no other obligation than that of
remembering the affection of this thy young and faithful friend; and
perhaps hereafter, when thou seest an unhappy Christian groaning
Sin Turkish fetters, thy generosity may make thee think of Venice."
It is impossible to describe the ecstacies or the gratitude of Hamet
Sat this unexpected deliverance : I will not, therefore, attempt to repeat
what he said to his benefactors; I will only add that he was that
day set free, and Francisco embarked him on board a ship which
was going to one of the Grecian islands, took leave of him with the
greatest tenderness, and forced him to accept a purse of gold to pay
his expenses. Nor was it without the greatest regret that Hamet
parted from his young friend, whose disinterested kindness had thus
Sprocured his freedom; he embraced him with an agony of tender-
ness, wept over him at parting, and prayed for every blessing upon
his head.
About six months after this transaction a sudden fire burst forth
in the house of this generous merchant. It was early in the morning,
when sleep is the most profound, and none of the family perceived
it till almost the whole of the building was involved in flames. The
frightened servants had just time to waken the merchant and hurry
him downstairs, and the instant he was down, the staircase itself
Save way, and sank with a horrid crash into the midst of the fire.
But if Francisco congratulated himself for an instant upon his
escape, it was only to resign himself immediately after to the most
deep despair, when he found upon inquiry, that his son, who slept
Sin an upper apartment, had been neglected in the general tumult,
and was yet amongst the flames. No words can describe the father's
agony: he wruld have rushed headlong into the fire, but was re-
strained by his servants; he then -aved in an agony of grief, and
offered half his fortune to the intrepid man who would risk his life
to save his child. As Francisco was known to be immensely rich,

several ladders were in the instant raised, and several daring spirits,
incited by the vast reward, attempted the adventure. The violence
of the flames, however, which burst forth at every window, together
with the ruins that fell on every side, drove them all back; and the
unfortunate youth, who now appeared upon the battlements, stretch-
ing out his arms and imploring aid, seemed to be destined to certain
The unhappy father now lost all perception, and sank down in a
state of insensibility, when, in this dreadful moment of general sus-
pense and agony, a man rushed through the opening crowd, mounted
the tallest of the ladders with an intrepidity that showed he was re-
solved to succeed or perish, and instantly disappeared. A sudden
gust of smoke and flame burst forth immediately after, which made
the people imagine he was lost; when, on a sudden, they beheld
him emerge again with the child in his arms, and descend the ladder
without any material damage. A universal shout of applause now
resounded to the skies; but what words can give an adequate idea
of the father's feelings, when, on recovering his senses, he found his
darling miraculously preserved, and safe within his arms?
After the first effusions of his tenderness were over, he asked for
his deliverer, and was shown a man of a noble stature, but dressed
in mean attire, and his features were so begrimed with smoke and
filth that it was impossible to distinguish them. Francisco, however,
accosted him with courtesy, and, presenting him with a purse of gold,
begged he would accept of that for the present, and that the next
day he should receive to the utmost of his promised reward.
"No, generous merchant," answered the stranger, "I do not sell
my blood."
Gracious heavens !" cried the merchant, "sure I should know
that voice? It is- "
"Yes," exclaimed the son, throwing himself into the arms of his
deliverer, it is my Hamet !"
It was indeed Hamet, who stood before them in the same mean
attire which he had worn six months before, when the first generosity
of the merchant had redeemed him from slavery. Nothing could
equal the astonishment and gratitude of Francisco; but as theywere
then surrounded by a large concourse of people, he desired Hamet
to go with him to the house of one of his friends, and when they
were alone he embraced him tenderly, and asked by what extra-
ordinary chance he had thus been enslaved a second time, adding a
kind of reproach for his not informing him of his captivity.
"I bless God for that captivity," answered Hamet, "since it has


given me an opportunity of showing that I was not altogether unde-
serving of your kindness, and of preserving the life of that dear youth,
that I value a thousand times beyond my own. But it is now fit that
my generous patron should be informed of the whole truth. Know,
then, that when the unfortunate Hamet was taken by your galleys,
his aged father shared his captivity-it was his fate which so often
made me shed those tears which first attracted the notice of your son;
and when your unexampled bounty had set me free, I flew to find
the Christian who had purchased him. I represented to him that I
was young and vigorous, while he was aged and infirm; I added,
too, the gold which I had received from your bounty: in a word, I
prevailed upon the Christian to send back my father in that ship
which was intended for me, without acquainting him with the means
of his freedom : since that time I have stayed here to discharge the
debt of nature and gratitude, a willing slave-"

At this part of the story Harry, who had with difficulty restrained
himself before, burst into such a fit of crying, and Tommy himself
was so much affected, that Mr. Barlow told them they had better
leave off for the present, and go to some other employment. They
therefore went into the garden to resume the labour of their house,
but found, to their unspeakable regret, that during their absence an
accident had happened which had entirely destroyed all their labours:
a violent storm of wind and rain had risen that morning, which, blow-
ing full against the walls of the newly constructed house, had levelled
it with the ground. Tommy could scarcely refrain from crying when
he saw the ruins lying around; but Harry, who bore the loss with
more composure, told him not to mind it, for it could easily be re-
paired, and they would build it stronger the next time.
Harry then went up to the spot, and after examining it some time,
told Tommy that he believed he had found out the reason of their
"What is it?" said Tommy.
"Why," said Harry, "it is only because we did not drive these
stakes, which are to bear the whole weight of our house, far enough
into the ground; and therefore, when the wind blew again? the flat
side of it with so much violence, it could not resist. And now I re-
member to have seen the workmen, when they begin a building, dig
a considerable way into th6 ground, to lay the foundation fast; and
I should think that, if we drove these stakes a great way. into the
ground, it would produce the same effect, and we should have no-
thing to fear from any future storms."

Mr. Barlow then came into the garden, and the two boys showed
him their misfortune, and asked him whether he did not think that
driving the stakes further in would prevent such an accident for the
future. Mr. Barlow told them he thought it would; and that, as
they were too short to reach the top of the stakes, he would assist
them. He then went and brought a wooden mallet, with which he
struck the tops of the stakes, and drove them so fast into the ground
that there was no longer any danger of their being shaken by the
weather. Harry and Tommy then applied themselves with so much
assiduity to their work that they in a very short time had repaired all
the damage, and advanced it as far as it had been before.
The next thing that was necessary to be done was putting on a
roof, for hitherto they had constructed nothing but the walls. For
this purpose they took several long poles, which they laid across their
building where it was most narrow, and upon these they placed straw
in considerable quantities, so that they now imagined they had con-
structed a house that would completely screen them from the wea-
ther. But in this, unfortunately, they were again mistaken; for a
very violent shower of rain coming on just as they had completed
their building, they took shelter under it, and remarked for some
time, with infinite pleasure, how dry and comfortable it kept them;
but at last the straw that covered it being completely soaked through,
and the water having no vent to run off, by reason of the flatness of
the roof, the rain began to penetrate in considerable quantities.
For some time Harry and Tommy bore the inconvenience, but it
increased so much that they were soon obliged to leave it and seek
for shelter in the house. When they were thus secured, they began
again to consider the affair of the house, and Tommy said that it
surely must be because they had not put straw enough upon it.
No," said Harry, "I think that cannot be the reason; I rather
imagine it must be owing to our roof lying so flat; for I have ob-
served that all houses that I have ever seen have their roofs in a
shelving posture, by which means the wet continually runs off from
them and falls to the ground; whereas ours, being quite flat, detained
almost all the rain that fell upon it, which must necessarily soak
deeper and deeper into the straw till it penetrated quite through."
They therefore agreed to remedy this defect ; and for this purpose
they took several poles of an equal length, the one end of which they
fastened to the side of the house, and let the other two ends meet in
the middle, by which means they formed a roof exactly like that
which we commonly see upon buildings; they also took several
poles, which they tied across the others, to keep them firm in their

places, and give the roof additional strength ; and lastly, they covered
the whole with straw or thatch; and for fear the thatch should be
blown away, they stuck several pegs in different places, and put
small pieces of stick crosswise from peg to peg, to keep the straw in
its place. When this was done they found they had a very tolerable
house; only the sides, being formed of brushwood alone, did not
sufficiently exclude the wind. To remedy this inconvenience, Harry,
who was chief architect, procured some clay, and mixing it up with
water, to render it sufficiently soft, he daubed it all over the walls,
both within and without, by which means the wind was excluded and
the house rendered much warmer than before.
Some time had now elapsed since the seeds of the wheat were
sown, and they began to shoot so vigorously that the blade of the
corn appeared green above the ground, and increased every day in
strength. Tommy went to look at it every morning, and remarked
its gradual increase with the greatest satisfaction.
Now," he said to Harry, I think we should soon be able to live
if we were upon a desert island. Here is a house to shelter us from
the weather, and we shall soon have some corn for food."
"Yes," answered Harry; "but there are a great many things still
wanting to enable us to make bread."
Mr. Barlow had a very large garden and an orchard full of the
finest fruit-trees ; and he had another piece of ground where he used
to sow seeds in order to raise trees, and then they were carefully
planted out in beds till they were big enough to be moved into the
orchard and produce fruit. Tommy had often eaten of the fruit of
the orchard, and thought it delicious, and this led him to think that
it would be a great improvement to their house if he had a few trees
that he might set near it, and which would shelter it from the sun
and hereafter produce fruit; so he desired Mr. Barlow to give him
a couple of trees, and Mr. Barlow told him to go into the nursery
and take his choice. Accordingly Tommy went, and chose out two
of the strongest-looking trees he could find, which, with Harry's
assistance, he transplanted into the garden in the following manner:
They both took their spades, and very carefully dug the trees up
without injuring their roots ; then they dug two large holes in the
place where they chose the trees should stand, and very carefully
broke the earth to pieces, that it might lie light upon the roots; then
the tree was placed in the middle of the hole, and Tommy held it
upright while Harry gently threw the earth over the roots, which he
trod down with his feet in order to cover them well. Lastly, he
stuck a large stake in the ground and tied the tree to it, from the

fear that the wintry wind might injure it, or perhaps entirely blow it
out of the ground.
Nor did they bound their attention here, There was a little spring
of water which burst from the upper ground in the garden, and ran
down the side of the hill in a small stream. Harry and Tommy
laboured very hard for several days to form a new channel, to lead
the water near the roots of their trees, for it happened to be hot dry
weather, and they feared they might perish from want of moisture.
Mr. Barlow saw them employed in this manner with the greatest
satisfaction. He told them that in many parts of the world the ex-
cessive heat burned up the ground so much that nothing would grow
unless the soil was watered in that manner. "There is," said he, "a
country in particular, called Egypt, which has always been famous for
its fertility, and for the quantity of corn that grows in it, which is
naturally watered in the following extraordinary manner. There is
a great river called the Nile, which flows through the whole extent of
the country; the river, at a particular time of the year, begins to over-
flow its banks, and, as the whole country is flat, it very soon covers
it all with its waters. These waters remain in this situation several
weeks before they have entirely drained off; and when that happens,
they leave the soil so rich that everything that is planted in it flourishes
and produces with the greatest abundance."
"Is not that the country, sir," said Harry, "where that cruel ani-
mal the crocodile is found?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Barlow.
"What is that, sir?" said Tommy.
"It is an animal," answered Mr. Barlow, "that lives sometimes
upon the land, sometimes in the water. It comes originally from an
egg, which the old one lays and buries in the sand. The heat of the
sun then warms it during several days, and at last a young crocodile
is hatched. This animal is at first very small; it has a long body and
four short legs, which serve it both to walk with upon the land and to
swim with in the waters. It has, besides, a long tail, or rather the
body is extremely long, and gradually grows thinner till it ends in a
point. Its shape is exactly like that of a lizard: or, 'if you have never
seen a lizard, did you never observe a small animal, of some inches
long, which lives at the bottom of ditches and ponds? "
"Yes, sir, I have," answered Tommy, "and I once caught one
with my hand, taking it for a fish; but when I had it near me, I saw
it had four little legs, so I threw it into the water again, for fear the
animal should be hurt."
"This animal," answered Mr. Barlow, "may give you an exact
idea of a young crocodile; but as it grows older it gradually becomes


bigger, till at last, as I have been informed, it reaches the length of
twenty or thirty feet."
"That is very large," said Tommy; "and does it do any harm?"
"Yes," said Mr. Barlow, "it is a very voracious animal, and devours
everything it can seize. It frequently comes out of the water and lives
upon the shore, where it resembles a large log of wood; and if any
animal unguardedly comes near, it snaps at it on a sudden, and if it
can catch the poor creature, devours it."
Tommy. And does it never devour men?
Mr. Barlow. Sometimes, if it surprises them; but those who are
accustomed to meet with them frequently easily escape. They run
round in a circle, or turn short on a sudden, by which means the
animal is left far behind ; because, although he can run tolerably fast
in a straight line, the great length of his body prevents him from turn.
ing with ease.
,Tommy. This must be a dreadful animal to meet with: is it possible
for a man to defend himself against it?
Mr. Barlow. Everything is possible to those that have courage and
coolness; therefore many of the inhabitants of those countries carry
long spears in their hands in order to defend themselves from those
animals. The crocodile opens his wide voracious jaws in order to
devour the man, but the man takes this opportunity and thrusts the
point of his spear into the creature's mouth, by which means he is
generally killed upon the spot. Nay, I have even heard that some
will carry their hardiness so far as to go into the water in order to
fight the crocodile there. They take a large splinter of wood about
a foot in length, strong in the middle, and sharpened at both ends;
to this they tie a long and tough cord. The man who intends to fight
the crocodile takes this piece of wood in his right hand, and goes into
the river, where he wades till one of these creatures perceives him.
As soon as that happens the animal comes up to him to seize him,
extending his wide and horrid jaws, which are armed with several
rows of pointed teeth; but the man, with the greatest intrepidity,
waits for his enemy, and the instant he approaches thrusts his hand,
armed with the splinter of wood, into his terrible mouth, which the
creature closes directly, and by these means forces the sharp points
into each of his jaws, where they stick fast. He is then incapable of
doing hurt, and they pull him to the shore by the cord.
"Pray, sir," said Tommy, "is this dreadful animal capable of
being tamed?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Barlow. "I believe, as I have before told
you, there is no animal that may not be rendered mild and inoffensive

by good usuage. There are several parts of Egypt where tame cro-
codiles are kept.
This account diverted Tommy very much. He thanked Mr. Barlow
for giving him this description of the crocodile, and said he should
like to see every animal in the world. "That," answered Mr. Barlow,
"would be extremely difficult, as almost every country produces some
kind which is not found in other parts of the world; but if you will
be contented to read the descriptions of them which have been written,
you may easily gratify your curiosity."
It happened about this time that Tommy and Harry rose early
one morning, and went to take a long walk before breakfast, as they
used frequently to do; they rambled so far that at last they both
found themselves tired, and sat down under a hedge to rest. While
they were here a very clean and decently dressed woman passed by,
who, seeing two little boys sitting by themselves, stopped to look at
them; and, after considering them attentively, she said, "You seem,
my little dears, to be either tired or to have lost your way."
"No, madam," said Harry, "we have not lost our way, but we
have walked farther than usual this morning, and we wait here a
little while to rest ourselves."
"Well," said the woman, "if you will come into my little house
-that you see a few yards farther on-you may sit more comfort-
ably ; and as my daughter has by this time milked the cows, she
shall give you a mess of bread and milk."
Tommy, who was by this time extremely hungry as well as tired,
told Harry that he should like to accept the good woman's invita-
tion; so they followed her to a small but clean-looking farmhouse
which stood at a little distance. Here they entered a clean kitchen,
furnished with very plain but convenient furniture, and were desired
to sit down by a warm and comfortable fire, which was made of turf.
Tommy, who had never seen such a fire, could not help inquiring
about it, and the good woman told him that poor people like her
were unable to purchase many coals ; "therefore," said she, "we
go and pare the surface of the commons, which is full of grass and
heath and other vegetables, together with their roots all matted
together; these we dry in small pieces by leaving them exposed to
the summer's sun, and then we bring them home and put them under
the cover of a shed, and use them for our fires."
But," said Tommy, I should think you would hardly have fire
enough by these means to dress your dinner; for I have by accident
been in my father's kitchen when they were dressing the dinner, and
I saw a fire that blazed up to the very top of the chimney."


The poor woman smiled at this, and said, "Your father, I sup-
pose, master, is some rich man, who has a great deal of victuals to
dress, but we poor people must be more easily contented."
"Why," said Tommy, "you must at least want to roast meat
every day."
No," said the poor woman, "we seldom see roast beef at our
house ; but we are very well contented if we can have a bit of fat
pork every day, boiled in a pot with turnips; and we bless God that
we fare so well, for there are many poor souls, who are as good as
we, that can scarcely get a morsel of dry bread."
While they were talking a little clean girl came and brought
Tommy an earthen porringer full of new milk, with a large slice of
brown bread. Tommy took it, and ate with so good a relish that
he thought he had never made a better breakfast in his life.
When Harry and he had eaten their breakfast, Tommy told him
it was time they should return home, so he thanked the good woman
for her kindness, and putting his hand into his pocket, pulled out a
shilling, which he desired her to accept.
No, God bless you, my little dear!" said the woman, "I will
not take a farthing of you for the world. What though my husband
and I are poor, yet we are able to get a living by our labour, and
give a mess of milk to a traveller without hurting ourselves."
Tommy thanked her again, and was just going away, when a
couple of surly-looking men came in and asked the woman if her
name was Tosset.
"Yes, it is," said the woman: "I have never been ashamed of
"Why, then," said one of the men, pulling a paper out of his
pocket, "here is an execution against you, on the part of Mr.
Richard Gruff; and if your husband does not instantly discharge
the debt, with interest and all costs, amounting altogether to the
sum of thirty-nine pounds ten shillings, we shall take an inventory of
all you have, and proceed to sell it by auction for the discharge of
the debt."
Indeed," said the poor woman, looking a little confused, this
must certainly be a mistake, for I never heard of Mr. Richard Gruff
in all my life, nor do I believe that my husband owes a fathing in the
world, unless to his landlord; and I know that he has almost made
up half a year's rent to him ; so that I do not think he would go to
trouble a poor man."
No, no, mistress," said the man, shaking his head, "we know
our business too well to make these kind of mistakes; but when your


husband comes in we'll talk with him; in the meantime we must go
on with our inventory."
The two men then went into the next room, and immediately after
a stout comely-looking man, of about the age of forty, came in, with
a good-humoured countenance, and asked if his breakfast was ready.
"Oh, my poor dear William! said the woman, "here is a sad
breakfast for you! But I think it cannot be true that you owe any-
thing; so what the fellows told me must be false about Richard
At this name the man instantly started, and his countenance, which
was before ruddy, became pale as a sheet.
"Surely," said the woman, "it cannot be true that you owe forty
pounds to Richard Gruff? "
"Alas !" answered the man, I do not know the exact sum ; but
when your brother Peter failed, and his creditors seized all that he
had, this Richard Gruff was going to send him to jail, had not I
agreed to be bound for him, which enabled him to go to sea. He
indeed promised to remit his wages to me, to prevent my getting into
any trouble on that account; but you know it is now three years
since he went, and in all that time we have heard nothing about
"Then," said the woman, bursting into tears, "you and all your
poor dear children are ruined for my ungrateful brother, for here are
two bailiffs in the house, who have come to take possession of all you
have, and to sell it."
At this the man's face became red as scarlet, and seizing an old
sword which hung over the chimney, he cried out, No, it shall not
be I will die first I will make these villains know what it is to make
honest men desperate."
He then drew the sword, and was going out in a fit of madness,
which might have proved fatal either to himself or to the bailiffs, but
his wife flung herself upon her knees before him, and, catching hold
of his legs, besought him to be more composed.
Oh, for Heaven's sake, my dear, dear husband," said she, "'con-
sider what you are doing. You can neither do me nor your children
any service by this violence; instead of that, should you be so un-
fortunate as to kill either of these men, would it not be murder, and
would not our lot be a thousand times harder than it is at present?"
This remonstrance seemed to have some effect upon the farmer;
his children, too, although too young to understand the cause of all
this confusion, gathered round him and hung about him, sobbing in
concert with their mother. Little Harry, too, although a stranger to

the poor man before, yet with the tenderest sympathy took him by
the hand and bathed it with his tears. At length, softened and over-
come by the sorrows of those he loved so well, and by his own cooler
reflections, he resigned the fatal instrument, and sat hiniself down
upon a chair, covering his face with his hands, and only saying,
'The will of God be done "
Tommy had beheld this affecting scene with the greatest attention,
although he had not said a word; and now beckoning Harry away,
he went silently out of the house, and took the road which led to
Mr. Barlow's. While he was on the way, he seemed to be so full of
the scene which he had just witnessed that he did not open his lips;
but when he came home he instantly went to Mr. Barlow and desired
that he would directly send him to his father's. Mr. Barlow stared
at the request, and asked him what was the occasion of his being so
suddenly tired with his residence at the vicarage.
"Sir," answered Tommy, "1 am not the least tired, I assure you;
you have been extremely kind to me, and I shall always remember it
with the greatest gratitude; but I want to see my father immediately,
and I am sure when you come to know the occasion, you will not
disapprove of it."
Mr. Barlow did not press him any further, but ordered a careful
servant to saddle a horse directly and take Tommy home before him.
Mr. and Mrs. Merton were extremely surprised and overjoyed at
the sight of their son, who thus unexpectedly arrived at home; but
Tommy, whose mind was full of the project he had formed, as soon
as he had answered their first questions, accosted his father thus:
Pray, sir, will you be angry with me if I ask you for a great
No, surely," said Mr. Merton, that I will not."
"Why, then," said Tommy, "as I have often heard you say that
you were very rich, and that if I was good I should be rich too, will
you give me some money? "
Money i" said Mr. Merton: yes, to be sure; how much do you
"Why, sir," said Tommy, I want a very large sum indeed."
"Perhaps a guinea," answered Mr. Merton.
Tommy. No, sir, a great deal more-a great many guineas.
Mlr. Mlerton. Let us, however, see.
Tommy. Why, sir, I want at least forty pounds.
"Bless the boy! answered Mrs. Merton; "surely Mr. Barlow
must have taught him to be ten times more extravagant than he was


Tommy. Indeed, madam, Mr. Barlow knows nothing about the
"But," said Mr. Merton, "what can such an urchin as you want
with such a large sum of money ? "
"Sir," answered Tommy, "that is a secret; but I am sure when
you come to hear it, you will approve of the use I intend to make of it."
Mr. Merton. That I very much doubt.
Tommy. But, sir, if you please, you may let me have this money,
and I will pay you again by degrees.
Mr. Merton. How will you ever be able to pay me such a sum?
Tommy. Why, sir, you know you are so kind as frequently to give
me new clothes and pocket-money; now, if you will only let me
have this money, I will neither want new clothes, nor anything else,
till I have made it up.
Mr. Merton. But what can such a child as you want with all this
Tommy. Pray, sir, wait a few days, and you shall know; and if I
make a bad use of it, never believe me again as long as I live.
Mr. Merton was extremely struck with the earnestness with which
his son persevered in the demand ; and, as he was both very rich and
liberal, he determined to hazard the experiment, and comply with
his request. He accordingly went and fetched him the money which
he asked for, and put it into his hands, telling him at the same time
that he expected to be acquainted with the use he put it to; and
that, if he was not satisfied with the account, he would never trust
him again. Tommy appeared in ecstacies at the confidence that
was reposed in him, and, after thanking his father for his extra-
ordinary goodness, he desired leave to go back again with Mr.
Barlow's servant.
When he arrived at Mr. Barlow's, his first care was to desire Harry
to accompany him again to the farmer's house. Thither the two
little boys went with the greatest expedition; and, on their entering
the house, found the unhappy family in the same situation as before.
But Tommy, who had hitherto suppressed his feelings, finding him-
self now enabled to execute the project he had formed, went up to
the good woman of the house, who sat sobbing in a corner of the
room, and, taking her gently by the hand, said,
My good woman, you were very kind to me in the morning, and
therefore I am determined to be kind to you in return."
"God bless you, my little master," said the woman, "you are
very welcome to what you had; but you are not able to do anything
to relieve our distress."


"How do you know that?" said Tommy; "perhaps I can do
more for you than you imagine."
"Alas answered the woman, "I believe you would do all you
could; but all our goods will be seized' and sold, unless we can im-
mediately raise the sum of forty pounds ;' and that is impossible, for
we have no earthly friend to assist us; therefore my poor babes and
I must soon be turned out of doors, and God alone can keep them
from starving."
Tommy's little heart was too much affected to keep their woman
longer in suspense; therefore, pulling out his bag of money, he
poured it into her lap, saying, Here, my good woman, take this
and pay your debts, and God bless you and your children !"
It is impossible to express the surprise of the poor woman at the
sight: she stared wildly around her and upon her little benefactor,
and, clasping her hands together in an agony of gratitude and feel-
ing, she fell back in her chair with a kind of convulsive motion: Her
husband, who was in the next room, seeing her in this condition, ran
up to her, and catching her in his arms, asked her with the greatest
tenderness what was the matter; but she, springing on a sudden from
his embraces, threw herself upon her knees before the little boy, sob-
bing and blessing with a broken inarticulate voice, embracing his
knees and kissing his feet. The husband, who did not know what
had happened, imagined that his wife had lost her senses ; and the
little children, who had before been skulking about the room, ran up
to their mother, pulling her by the gown, and hiding their faces in
her bdsom. But the woman, at the sight of them, seemed to recollect
herself, and cried out, My children, you must all have been. starved
without the assistance of this little-anger; why do you-not join with
me in thanking him?"
At this the husband said, "Surely, Mary, you must have lost your
senses. What can this young gentleman do for us, or to prevent
our wretched babes from perishing?"
"Oh, William," said the woman, I am not mad, though I may
appear so; but look here, William, look what Providence has sent
us by the hands of this little angel; and then wonder not that I should
be wild."
Saying this, she held up the money, and at the sight her husband
looked as wild and astonished as she.
But Tommy went up to the man; and taking him by the hand,
said, "My good friend, you are very welcome to this; I freely give
it you; and I hope it will: enable you to pay what you owe, and to
preserve these poor little children."

But the man, who had before appeared to bear his misfortunes
with silent dignity, now burst into tears and sobbed like his wife and
children; but Tommy, who now began to be pained with this excess
of gratitude, went silently out of the house, followed by Harry, and,
before the poor family perceived what had become of him, was out
of sight.
When he came back to Mr. Barlow's, that gentleman received
him with the greatest affection, and when he had inquired after the
health of Mr. and Mrs. Merton, asked Tommy whether he had for-
gotten the story of the grateful Turk. Tommy told him he had not,
and should now be very glad to hear the remainder; which Mr.
Barlow gave him to read, and which was as follows:-


WHEN Hamet had thus finished his story, the Venetian was as-
tonished at the virtue and elevation of his mind ; and after saying
everything that his gratitude and admiration suggested, he concluded
with pressing him to accept the half of his fortune, and to settle in
Venice for the remainder of his life. This offer Hamet refused with
the greatest respect, but with a generous disdain ; and told his friend
that, in what he had done, he had only discharged a debt of grati-
tude and friendship.
You were," said be, "my generous benefactor; you had a claim
upon my life by the benefit you had already conferred: that life
would have been well bestowed had it been lost in your service ; but
since Providence hath otherwise decreed, it is a sufficient recompense
to me to have proved that Hamet is not ungrateful, and to have
been instrumental to the preservation of your happiness."
But though the disinterestedness of Hamet made him underrate
his own exertions, the merchant could not remain contented without
showing his gratitude by all the means within his power. He there-
fore once more purchased the freedom of Hamet, and freighted a
ship on purpose to send him back to his own country; he and his
son then embraced him with all the affection that gratitude could
inspire, and bade him as they thought an eternal adieu.
Many years had now elapsed since the departure of Hamet into
his own country, without their seeing him, or receiving any intelli-
gence from him. In the meantime the young Francisco, the son
of the merchant, grew up to manhood; and as he had acquired
every accomplishment which tends to improve the mind or form the

manners, added to an excellent disposition, he was generally Befoved
and esteemed.
It happened that some business about this time made it necessary
for him and his father to go to a neighboring maritime city; and
as they thought a passage by sea would be more expeditious, they
both embarked in a Venetian vessel which was on the point of sailing
to that place. They set sail, therefore, with favourable winds, and
every appearance of a happy passage; but they had not proceeded
more than half their intended voyage before a Turkish corsair (a
ship purposely fitted out for war) was seen bearing down upon them,
and as the enemy exceeded them much in swiftness, they soon found
that it was impossible to escape. The greater part of the crew be-
longing to the Venetian vessel were struck with consternation, and
seemed already overcome with fear; but the young Francisco, draw-
ing his sword, reproached his comrades with their cowardice, and
so effectually encouraged them that they determined to defend their
liberty by a desperate resistance. The Turkish vessel now ap-
proached them in awful silence, but in an instant the dreadful noise
of the artillery was heard, and the heavens were obscured with smoke
intermixed with transitory flashes of fire. Three times did the Turks
leap with their horrid shouts upon the deck of the Venetian vessel,
and three times were they driven back by the desperate resistance of
the crew, headed by young Francisco. At length the slaughter of
their men was so great that they seemed disposed to discontinue the
fight, and were actually taking another course. The Venetians be-
held their flight with the greatest joy, and were congratulating each
other upon their successful valour and merited escape, when two
more ships on a sudden appeared in sight, bearing down upon them
with incredible swiftness before the wind. Every heart was now
chilled with new terrors, when, on their nearer approach, they dis-
covered the fatal ensigns of their enemies, and knew that there was
no longer any possibility of either resistance or escape. They there-
fore lowered their flag (the sign of surrendering their ship), and in an
instant sw themselves in the power of their enemies, who came
pouring in on every side with the rage and violence of beasts of
prey. All that remained alive of the brave Venetian crew were
loaded with fetters, and closely guarded in the hold of the ship
till it arrived at Tunis, They were then brought out in chains, and
exposed in the public market to be sold for slaves. They had there
the mortification to see their companions picked out one by one,
according to their apparent strength and vigour, and sold to different
masters. At length a Turk approached, who, from his look and


habit, appeared to be of superior rank, and after glancing his eye
over the rest with an expression of compassion, he fixed them at last
upon young Francisco, and demanded of the captain of the ship what
was the price of that young man. The captain answered that he
would not take less than five hundred pieces of gold for that captive.
"That," said the Turk, "is very extraordinary, since I have seen
you sell those that much exceed him in vigour for less than a fifth
part of that sum."
"Yes," answered the captain, "but he shall either pay me some
part of the damage he has occasioned, or labour for life at the oar."
"What damage," answered the other, "can he have done you
more than all the rest whom you have prized so cheaply?"
"He it was," replied the captain, "who animated the Christians
to the desperate resistance which cost me the lives of so many of my
brave sailors. Three times did we leap upon their deck with a fury
that seemed irresistible, and three times did that youth attack us with
such cool determined opposition that we were obliged to retreat in-
gloriously, leaving at every charge twenty of our number behind.
Therefore, I repeat it, I.will either have that price for him, great as
it may appear, or else I will gratify my revenge by seeing him drudge
for life in my victorious galley."
At this the Turk examined young Francisco with new attention;
and he, who had hitherto fixed his eyes upon the ground in sullen
silence, now lifted them up; but scarcely had he beheld the person
that was talking to the captain when he uttered a loud cry and
repeated the name of Hamet. The Turk, with equal emotion,
surveyed him for a moment, and then, catching him in his arms,
embraced him with the transports of a parent who unexpectedly
recovers a long-lost child.
It is unnecessary to repeat all that gratitude and affection inspired
Hamet ,to say, but when he heard that his ancient benefactor was
amongst the number of those unhappy Venetians who stood before
him, he hid his face for a moment under his vest and seemed over-
whelmed with sorrow and astonishment, when, recollecting himself,
he raised his arms to heaven and blessed that Providence which had
made him the instrument of safety to his ancient benefactor. He
then instantly flew to that part of the market where Francisco stood
waiting for his fate with a manly, mute despair. He called him his
friend, his benefactor, and every endearing name which friendship
and gratitude could inspire ; and ordering his chains to be instantly
taken off, he conducted him and his son to a magnificent house
which belonged to him in the city.


As soon as they were alone, and had time for an explanation of
their mutual fortunes, Hamet told the Venetians that, when he was
set at liberty by their generosity, and restored to his country, he
had accepted a command in theTurkish armies; and that, having
had the good fortune to distinguish himself on several occasions, he
had gradually been promoted, through various offices, to the dignity
of Bashaw of Tunis.
"Since I have enjoyed this post," added he, "there is nothing
which I find in it so agreeable as the power it gives me of alleviating
the misfortunes of those unhappy Christians who are taken prisoners
by'our corsairs. Whenever a ship arrives, which brings with it any
of these sufferers, I constantly visit the markets and redeem a certain
number of the captives, whom I restore to liberty. And gracious
Allah has shown that He approves of these faint endeavours to dis-
charge the sacred duties of gratitude for my own redemption, by
putting it in my power to serve the best and dearest of men."
Ten days were Francisco and his son entertained in the house of
Hamet, during which time he put in practice everything within his
power to please and interest them; but when he found they were
desirous of returning home, he told them he would no longer detain
them from their country, but that they should embark the next day
in a ship that was setting sail for Venice. Accordingly, on the morrow
he dismissed them, with many embraces and much reluctance, and
ordered a chosen party of his own guards to conduct them on board
their vessel. When they arrived there, their joy and admiration were
considerably increased on finding that, by the generosity of Hamet,
not only the ship which had been taken, but the whole crew were
redeemed and restored to freedom. Francisco and his son embarked,
and after a favourable voyage, arrived without accident in their own
country, where they lived many years respected and esteemed, con-
tinually mindful of the vicissitudes of human affairs, and attentive to
discharge their duties to their fellow-creatures.

When this story was concluded, Mr. Barlow and his pupils went
out to walk upon the high road, but they had not gone far before
they discovered three men, who seemed each to lead a large and
shaggy beast by a string, followed by a crowd of boys and women,
whom the novelty of the sight had drawn together. When they
approached more near, Mr. Barlow discovered that the beasts were
three tame bears, led by as many Savoyards, who get their living by
exhibiting them. Upon the head of each of these formidable animals
was seated a monkey, who grinned and chattered, and by his strange


grimaces excited the mirth of the whole assembly. Tommy, who
had never before seen one of these creatures, was very much surprised
and entertained, but still more so when he saw the animal rise upon
his hind legs at the word of command, and dance about in a strange,
uncouth manner, to the sound of music.
After having satisfied themselves with the spectacle they proceeded
on their way, and Tommy asked Mr. Barlow whether a bear was an
animal easily tamed, and that did mischief in those places where he
was wild.
The bear," replied Mr. Barlow, "is not an animal quite so for-
midable or destructive as a lion or a tiger; he is, however, sufficiently
dangerous, and will frequently kill women and children, and even men,
when he has an opportunity. These creatures are generally found
in cold countries, and it is observed that the colder the climate is, the
greater size and fierceness do they attain to. There is a remarkable
account of one of these animals suddenly attacking a soldier when
on duty, but it was fortunate for the poor fellow that the first blow
he struck the bear felled it to the ground, and the soldier immediately
plunged his sword into its heart, which of course killed it. In those
northern countries, which are perpetually covered with snow and ice,
a species of bear is found, which is white in colour, and of amazing
strength as well as fierceness. These animals are often seen clambering
over the huge pieces of ice that almost cover those seas, and preying
upon fish and other sea animals."
While they were conversing in this manner they beheld a crowd
of women and children running away in the greatest trepidation, and,
looking behind them, saw that one of the bears had broken his chain,
and was running after them, growling all the time in a very disagree-
able manner. Mr. Barlow, who had a good stick in his hand, and
was a man of an intrepid character, perceiving this, bade his pupils
remain quiet, and instantly ran up to the bear, who stopped in the
middle of his career, and seemed inclined to attack Mr. Barlow for
his interference; but this gentleman struck him two or three blows,
rating him at the same time in a loud and severe tone of voice, and
seizing the end of the chain with equal boldness and dexterity, the
animal quietly submitted, and suffered himself to be taken prisoner.
Presently the keeper of the bear came up, into whose hands Mr. Bar-
low consigned him, charging him for the future to be more careful in
guarding so dangerous a creature.
While this was doing, the boys had remained quiet spectators at a
distance, but by accident the monkey, who used to be perched upon
the head of the bear, and was shaken off when the beast broke



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