Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 The history of Sandford and...
 The flies and the ants
 The gentleman and the basket...
 The history of the two dogs
 Androcles and the lion
 The story of Cyrus
 The two brothers
 The good-natured little boy
 The ill-natured boy
 The story of the grateful Turk
 History of a surprising cure of...
 History of Agesilaus
 The history of Leonidas, King of...
 The story of Polemo
 Sophron and Tigranes
 Back Cover

Title: The history of Sandford and Merton
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015717/00001
 Material Information
Title: The history of Sandford and Merton
Alternate Title: Sandford and Merton
Physical Description: 347 p., 6 leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Day, Thomas, 1748-1789
Hazard, Willis P ( Willis Pope ), 1825-1913 ( Publisher )
Duval, Peter S., 1804 or 5-1886 ( Lithographer )
Publisher: Willis P. Hazard
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Publication Date: 1857
Subject: Boys -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prejudices -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Country life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Boys -- Education -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Dialogues -- 1857   ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1857   ( local )
Bldn -- 1857
Genre: Dialogues   ( rbgenr )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
Statement of Responsibility: by Thomas Day ; beautifully illustrated.
General Note: Illustrations chromolithographed by P.S. Duval.
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.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015717
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002248792
oclc - 02125712
notis - ALK0517

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
        Page 1
    Title Page
        Page 2
    The history of Sandford and Merton
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The flies and the ants
        Page 21
        Page 22
    The gentleman and the basket maker
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    The history of the two dogs
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Androcles and the lion
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    The story of Cyrus
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    The two brothers
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
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        Page 64
        Page 64a
        Page 65
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        Page 68
        Page 69
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    The good-natured little boy
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    The ill-natured boy
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
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        Page 80
        Page 81
    The story of the grateful Turk
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
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        Page 117
    History of a surprising cure of the gout
        Page 118
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        Page 156
    History of Agesilaus
        Page 157
        Page 158
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    The history of Leonidas, King of Sparta
        Page 162
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    The story of Polemo
        Page 233
        Page 234
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    Sophron and Tigranes
        Page 237
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library
University U
Lo Ida

P S.TSDuval Lth PhIl.

Sandford -IN Iertoii.












IN the western part of England lived a gentleman of great fol-
tune, 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 this child properly, was
the reason of his determining to stay some years in England.
Tommy Merton, wl.o, at the time he came from Jamaica, was
only six years old, was naturally a very good-natured boy, but
unfortunately 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. Be-
sides this, he was always dressed in silk or laced clothes, and had
a fine gilded carriage, which was borne upon men's shouhdars, in
which he made visits to his play-fellows. His mother was so
excessively fond of him, that she gave him every thing he cried
for, and would never let him learn to read because he complained
that it made his head ache.
The consequence of this was, that though Master Merton had
every thing he wanted, he became very fretful and unhappy.
Sometimes he ate sweetmeats till he made himself sick, and then
he suffered a great deal of pain, because he would not take bitter
physic to make him well. Sometimes he cried for things that it
was impossible to give him, and then, as he had never been used
to be contradicted, it was many hours before he could be pacified.
When any company came to dine at the house, he was always to

be helped first, and to have the most delicate parts of the meat,
otherwise he would make such a noise as disturbed the whoie
company. When his father and mother were sitting at the tea-
table with their friends, instead of waiting till they were at leisure
to attend him, he would scramble upon the table, seize the cake
and bread and butter, and frequently overset the tea-cups. By
these pranks he not only made himself disagreeable to every body
else, but often met with very dangerous accidents. Frequently
did he cut himself with knives, at other times throw heavy things
upon his head, and once he narrowly escaped being scalded to
death by a kettle of boiling water. He was also so delicately
brought up, that he was perpetually ill; the least wind or 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 com-
plexion. By this kind of education, when Master Merton came
over to England, he could neither write, nor read, nor cypher ; he
could use none of his limbs with ease, nor bear any degree of fa-
tigue ; but he was very proud, fretful, and impatient.
Very near to Mr. Merton's seat lived a plain, honest farmer,
whose name was Sandford. This man 'had, like Mr. Merton, an
only son, not much older than Master Merton, whose name was
Harry. Harry, as he had been always accustomed to run about
in the fields, to follow the labourers while they were ploughing,
and to drive the sheep to their pasture, was active, strong, hardy,
and fresh-coloure (. He was neither so fair, nor so delicately
shaped as Master Merton ; but he had an honest, good-natured
countenance, which made every body love him; was never out of
humour, and took the greatest pleasure in obliging every body.
If little Harry saw a poor wretch who wanted victuals while he
was eating his dinner, he was sure to give him half, and some-
times the whole: nay, so very good-natured was he to every
thing, that he would never go into the fields to take the eggs ot
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 cock-
chafer round, which he had fastened by a crooked pin to a long
piece of thread: but then this was through ignorance and want of
thought for, as soon as his father told him that the poor helpless

insect felt as much, or more than he would do, were a knife thi st
through his hand, he burst into tears, and took the poor ani-
mal home, where he fed him during a fortnight upon fresh leaves;
and, when he was perfectly recovered, turned him out to enjoy
liberty and the 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 himself 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 kind of disagreeable animals, which most people destroy
wherever they find them, were perfectly safe with Harry : he used
to say, they had a right to live as well as we, and that it was
cruel and unjust to kill creatures, only because we did not like
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 shewed so particular an affection for him; for
besides learning, with the greatest readiness, every thing 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 every thing he said; for though he could have gained a
plumb-cake by telling an untruth, and was sure that speaking the
truth would expose him to a severe whipping, he never hesitated
in declaring it. Nor was he like many other children, who place
their whole happiness in eating; for give him but a morsel of dry
bread for his dinner, and he would be satisfied, though you placed
sweetmeats and fruit, and every other nicety, in his way.
With this little boy did Master Merton become acquainted in
the following 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 butter-
flies, a large snake, on a sudden, started up from among some

long grass, and coiled itself round little Tommy's leg. You may
imagine the fright they were both in at this accident: the maid
ran away shrieking for help, while the child, who was in an agony
of terror, did not dare to stir from the place where he was standing.
11arry, 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 ail so obliged "-" 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 V"-
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 I may have my own father and
mother too."
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 every thing that could please
the eye, or contribute to convenience, was assembled. lie saw
large looking-glasses in gilded frames, carved tables and chairs,
curtains made of the finest silk, and the very plates and knives
and forks were silver. At dinner he was placed close 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 every body, he neither appeared pleased
nor surprised at any thing he saw. Mrs. Meiton could not
conceal her disappointment ; for, as she had always been used to a
great degree of finery herself, she had expected it should make the
same impression upon every body else. At last, seeing him eye a
small silver cup with great attention, out of which he had been
drinking, she asked him, whether he should not like to have such
a fine thing to drink out of? and added, that, though it was
Tommy's cup, she was sure he would, with great pleasure, give it
to his little friend.-" Yes, that I will," says Tommy; for you
know, mamma, I have a much finer one than that, made of gold,
besides two large ones made of silver."-" Thank you with all my
heart," said little Hary ; but I will not rob you of it, for I have
a much better one at home."-" How !" said Mrs. Merton, does
your father eat and drink out of silver ?"-" I don't know, madam,
what you call this; but we drink at home out of long things made
of horn, just such as the cows wear upon their heads."-" The
child is a simpleton, I think," said Mrs. Merton: and why is
that better than silver ones?"-" Because," said Harry, "they
never make us uneasy."-" Make you uneasy, my child!" said
Mrs. Merton, what do you mean ?"-", Why, madam, when the
man threw that great thing down, which looks just like this, I saw
that you were very sorry about it, and looked as if you had been
just ready to drop. Now, ours at home are thrown about by all
the family, and nobody minds it."-" I protest," said Mrs. Merton
to her husband, I do not know what to say to this boy, he makes
such strange observations."
The fact was, that, during dinner, one of the servants had
thrown down a large piece of plate, which, as it was very valuable,
had made Mrs. Merton not only look very uneasy, but give the
man a very severe scolding for his carelessness.
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 were?"-" 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, 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 starving; 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 any thing that was good; and all the world
was very bad, very bad indeed. And then there came a very good
man indeed, whose name was Christ: and he went about doing
good to every body, and curing people of all sorts of diseases, and
taught them what they ought to do; and he chose out twelve
other 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 did
eat or drink, but lived upon dry bread and water; and when any
body offered them money, they would not take it, but told them to
be good, and give it to the poor and the 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, and 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 any body else, and has
nothing to do, and every body waits upon him, and is afraid of
him."-"Well said, my dear," replied Mrs. Merton; 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 not you like to be a king too, little Harry ?"
-" Indeed, madam, I don't know what that is; 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."

9" What a difference there is between the children of farmers
and gentlemen !" whispered Mrs. Merton to her husband, looking
rather contemptuously upon Harry.-" I am not sure," said
Mr. Merton, that for this time the advantage is on the side ao
our son :-But should not you like to be rich, my dear ?" said lie,
turning to Harry.-" No, indeed, sir."--" No, simpleton !" said
Mrs. Merton; and why not ?"-" Because the only rich man I
ever saw, is squire Chase, who lives hard by; and he rides
among people's corn, and breaks down their hedges, and shoots
their poultry, and kills their dogs and lames their cattle, and
abuses the poor; and they say he does all this because he's rich;
but every body hates him, though they dare not tell him so to his
face :-and I would not be hated for any thing in the world."-
But should you not like to have a fine laced coat, and a coach to
carry you about, and servants to wait upon you ?"-" As to that,
madam, one coat is as good as another, if it will but keep one
warm ; and I don't want to ride, because I can walk wherever I
choose; and, as to servants, I should have nothing for them to do,
if I had a hundred of them." Mrs Merton continued to look at
him with a sort of contemptuous astonishment, but did not ask
him any more questions.
In the evening, little Harry was sent home to his father; who
asked him what he had seen at the great house, and how he liked
being there ?-" Why," replied Harry, they were all very kind to
me, for which I'm much obliged to them : but I had rather have
been at home, for I never was so troubled in all my life to get
a dinner. There was one man to take away my plate, and another
to give me drink, and another to stand behind my chair, just
as if I had been lame or blind, and could not have waited upon
myself: and then there was so much to do with putting this thing
on, and taking another off, I thought it would never have been
over\ and, after dinner, I was obliged to sit two whole hours
without ever stirring, while the lady was talking to me, not as Mr.
Barlow does, but wanting me to love fine clothes, and to be a
king, and to be rich, that I may be hated like squire Chase."
But, at the mansion-house, much of the conversation, in the
mean time, was employed in examining the merits of little Harry
Mrs. Merton acknowledged his bravery and openness of temper;
she was also struck with the general good-nature and benevolence
of his character; but she contended that he had a certain gross-
ness and indelicacy in his ideas, which distinguish the children of

the lower and middling classes of people from those of persons or
fashion.-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 situations. Nothing,
he affirmed, was more easily acquired than those external manners,
and that superficial address, upon which too many of the higher
classes pride themselves as their greatest, or even as their only
accomplishment: nay, so easily are they picked up," said he,
that we frequently see them descend with the cast clothes
to maids and valets; between whom and their masters and mis-
tresses there is frequently little other difference than what results
from the former wearing soiled clothes and healthier countenances.
Indeed, the real seat of all superiority, even of manners, must
be placed in the mind: dignified sentiments, superior courage,
accompanied with genuine and universal courtesy, are always ne-
cessary to constitute the real gentleman; and, where these are
wanting, it is the greatest absurdity to think they can be sup-
plied by affected tones of voice, particular grimaces, or extrava-
gant and unnatural modes of dress; which, far from being the
real test of gentility, have in general no other origin than the
caprice of barbers, tailors, actors, opera-dancers, milliners, fiddlers,
and French servants of both sexes. I cannot help, therefore, as-
serting," said he very seriously, that this little peasant has within
his mind the seeds of true gentility and dignity of character ; and
though I shall also wish that our son may possess all the common
accomplishments of his rank, nothing would give me more plea-
sure 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, without waiting to hear her
particular 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
induced us to treat him with too much indulgence. While we have
been over-solicitous to remove from him every painful and dis-
agreeable 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

_ _I




even the common attainments of his age and situation. All this I
S have long observed in silence; but have hitherto concealed, both
from my fondness for our child, and my fear of offending you : but
at length a consideration of his real interests has prevailed over
every other motive, and has compelled me to embrace a resolution,
which I hope will not be disagreeable to you,-that of sending
him directly to Mr. Barlow, provided he would take the care of
him: and I think this accidental acquaintance with young Sand-
ford may prove the luckiest thing in the world, as he is so nearly
of the age and size of our Tommy. I will therefore propose
to the Farmer, that I will for some years pay for the board and
education of his little boy, that he may be a constant companion
to our son."
As Mr. Merton said this with a certain degree of firmness,
and the proposal was in itself so reasonable and necessary, Mrs.
Merton did not make any objection to it, but consented, although
very reluctantly, to part with her son. Mr. Barlow was accord-
ingly invited to dinner the next Sunday, and Mr. Merton took an
opportunity of introducing 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 wil-
lingly make, yet the education and improvement of his son were
objects of so much importance to him, that he should always con-
sider himself as the obliged party.
To this, Mr. Barlow, after thanking Mr, Merton for the confi-
dence and liberality with which he treated him, answered in the
following manner :--" I should be little worthy of the distin-
guished regard with which you treat me, did I not with the
greatest sincerity assure you, that I feel myself totally unqualified
for such a 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 gaieties of the
capital and the refinements of polite life, is little adapted to form
such a tutor as the manners and opinions of the world require for
your son. Gentlemen in your situation of life are accustomed to
divide the world into two general classes; those that are persons
of fashion, and those that are not. The first class contains every
thing that is valuable in life; and therefore their manners, their
prejudices, their veri vices, must be inculcated upon the minds of


children from the earliest period of infancy: the second compre-
hends the great body of mankind, who, under the general name of
the Vulgar, are represented as being only objects of contempt and
disgust, and scarcely worthy to be put on a footing with the very
beasts that contribute to the pleasure and convenience of their
Mr. Merton could not help interrupting Mr. Barlow here, to
assure him, that though there was too much truth in the observa-
tion, yet he must not think that either he or Mrs. Merton, carried
things to that extravagant length ; and that, although they wished
their son to have the manners of a man of fashion, they thought
his morals and religion of infinitely more consequence.
If you think so, sir," said Mr. Barlow, it is more than a
noble lord did, whose written opinions are now considered as the
oracles of polite life, and more than, I believe, most of his ad-
mirers do at this time. But if you allow what I have just men-
tioned, to be the common distinctions of genteel people, you must
at one glance perceive how little I must be qualified to educate
a young gentleman intended to move in that sphere; I, whose
temper, reason, and religion, equally combine to make me reject
the principles upon which those distinctions are founded.-The
Christian religion, though not exclusively, is, emphatically speak-
ing, the religion of the poor. Its first ministers were taken from
the lower orders of mankind, and to the lower orders of mankind
was it first proposed; and in this, instead of feeling m',self mor-
tified or ashamed, I am the more inclined to adore the wisdom and
benevolence of that Power, by whose command it was first pro-
niulgated. Those who engross the riches and advantages of this
world, are too much employed with their pleasures and ambition,
to be much interested about any system, either of religion or of
morals : they too frequently feel a species of habitual intoxication,
which excludes every serious thought, and makes them view with
indifference every thing but the present moment. Those, on the
contrary, to whom all the hardships and miseries of this world
are allotted as their natural portion,-those who eat the bread of
bitterness, and drink the waters of affliction, have more interest in
futurity, and are therefore more prepared to receive the promises
of the Gospel. Yes, sir; mark the disingenuousness of many of
our modern philosophers ; they quarrel with the Christian religion,
because it has not yet penetrated the deserts of Africa, or arrested
the wandering hordes of Tartary; yet they ridicule it for the


meanness of its origin, and because it is the gospel of the poor:
that is to say, because it is expressly calculated to inform the
judgments, and alleviate the miseries, of that vast promiscuous
body, which constitutes the majestic species of Man.-But for
whom would these philosophers have Heaven itself interested, if
not for the mighty whole which it has created ? Poverty, that is to
say, a state of labour and frequent self-denial, is the natural state
of man; it is the state of all, in the happiest and most equal
governments, the state of nearly all in every country ; it is a state
in which all the faculties both of body and mind are always found
to develop themselves with the most advantage, and in which the
moral feelings have generally the greatest influence. The accumu-
lation of riches, on the contrary, can never increase, but by the
increasing poverty and degradation of those whom Heaven has
created equal: a thousand cottages are thrown down to afford
space for a single palace. How benevolently therefore has Heaven
acted, in thus extending its blessings to all who do not disqualify
themselves for the reception by voluntary hardness of heart! how
wisely, in thus opposing a continual boundary to human pride and
sensuality; two passions the most fatal in their effects, and the
most apt to desolate the world !-And shall a minister of that
Gospel, conscious of these great truths, and professing to govern
himself by their influence, dare to preach a different doctrine, and
flatter those excesses, which he must know are equally contrary
both to reason and religion ? shall he become the abject sycophant
of human greatness, and assist it in trampling all relations of hu-
manity beneath its feet, instead of setting before it the severe du-
ties of its station, and the account which will one day be expected
of all the opportunities of doing good, so idly, so irretrievably lost
and squandered ?-But I beg pardon, sir, for that warmth which
has transported me so far, and made me engross so much of the
conversation. But it will at least have this good effect, that it
will demonstrate the truth of what I have been saying; and
shew, that, though I might undertake the education of a farmer,
or a mechanic, I shall never succeed in that of a modern gen-
Sir," replied Mr. Merton, there is nothing which I now
hear from you, which does not increase my esteem of your cha-
racter, and my desire to engage your assistance. Permit me
only to ask, whether, in the present state of things, a differ-
ence of conditions and an inequality of fortune are not necessary


and, if necessary, I should infer, not contrary to the spirit of
Christianity "
So it is declared, sir, that offences must come: but that
does not prevent a severe denunciation against the offenders.
But, if you wish to know, whether I am one of those enthusiasts,
who are continually preaching up an ideal state of perfection,
totally inconsistent with human affairs, I will endeavour to give
you every satisfaction upon the subject.-If you mean by differ-
ence of conditions and inequality of fortunes, that the present
state of human affairs, in every society we are acquainted with,
does not admit that perfect equality which the purer interpreta-
tions of the Gospel inculcate, I certainly shall not disagree with
you in opinion. He that formed the human heart certainly must
be acquainted with all the passions to which it would be subject;
and if, under the immediate dispensation of Christ himself, it was
found impossible for a rich man to give his possessions to the
poor, that degree of purity will hardly be expected now, which
was not found in the origin.-But here, sir, permit me to remark,
how widely the principles of genuine Christianity differ from that
imaginary scheme of ideal perfection, equally inconsistent with
human affairs and human characters, which many of its pretended
friends would persuade us to believe it: and, as comparisons
sometimes throw a new and sudden light uponr a subject, give me
leave to use one here, which I think bears the closest analogy to
what we are now considering.-Were some physician to arise,
who, to a perfect knowledge of all preceding medical facts, had
added, by a more than human skill, a knowledge of the most se-
cret principles of the human frame ; could he calculate, with an
accuracy that never was deceived, the effect of every cause that
could act upon our constitutions; and, were he inclined, as the
result of all his science and observation, to leave a rule of life
that might remain unimpeached to the latest posterity, I ask, what
kind of one would he form ?"
I suppose one," said Mr. Merton, that was the most
adapted to the general circumstances of the human species, and
which observed, would confer the greatest degree of health and
Right," said Mr. Barlow! 1" I ask again, whether, observ-
ing the common luxury and intemperance of the rich, he would
take his directions from the usages of a polite table, and recom
mend that heterogeneous assemblage of contrary mixtures, hign




seasoniPgs, poignant sauces, fermented and distilled poisons,
which is continually breeding diseases in their veins, as the best
means of preserving, or regaining health ?"
Certainly not. That were to debase his heart, and sanc-
tion abuses, instead of reforming them."
Would he not, then, recommend simplicity of diet, light
repasts, early slumbers, and moderate exercise in the open air, if
he judged them salutary to human nature, even though fashion-
able prejudice had stamped all these particulars with the mark of
extreme vulgarity ?"
Were he to act otherwise, he must forfeit all pretensions
either to honesty or skill."
Let us then apply all this to the mind, instead of the body,
and suppose for an instant, that some legislator, either human or
divine, who comprehended all the secret springs that govern the
mind, was preparing a universal code for all mankind; must he
not imitate the physician, and deliver general truths, however un-
palatable, however repugnant to particular prejudices, since upon
the observance of these truths alone the happiness of the species
must depend ?"
1 think so indeed."
Should such a person observe, that an immoderate desire
aAd accumulation of riches, a love of ostentatious trifles, unneces-
sary splendour in all t'iat relates to human life, and an habitual
indulgence of sensuality, tended not only to produce evil in all
around, but even in the individual himself, who suffered the ty-
ranny of these vices ; how would you have the legislator act?
Should he be silent?"
No, certainly: he should arraign these pernicious habi-
tudes by every mean within his power; by precept, by example."
Should he also observe, that riches employed in another
manner, in removing the real miseries of humanity, in cherishing,
comforting, and supporting all around, produced a contrary effect,
and tended equally to make the obliged and obliger happy; should
he conceal this great eternal truth, or should he divulge it with all
the authority he possessed, conscious, that in whatever degree it
became the rule of human life, in the same degree would it tend
to the advantage of all the world ?'
There cannot be a doubt upon the subject."
"But, should he know, either by the spirit of prophecy, or
by intuitive penetration, that the majority of mankind would



never observe these rules to any great degree, but would be
blindly precipitated by their passions into every excess against
which he so benevolently cautioned them; should this be a rea-
son for his withdrawing his precepts and admonitions, or fol
seeming to approve what was in its own nature most pernicious ?
As prudent would it be to pull off the bridle when we
mounted an impetuous horse, because we doubted of our power
to hold him in ; or to increase his madness by the spur, when it
was already too great before. Thus, sir, you will perceive, that
the precepts of the Christian religion are founded upon the most
perfect knowledge of the human heart, as they furnish a continual
barrier against the most destructive passions, and the most sub-
versive of human happiness. Your own concessions sufficiently
prove, that it would have been equally derogatory to truth, and
the common interests of the species, to have made the slightest
concessions, in favour either of human pride or sensuality. Your
extensive acquaintance with mankind will sufficiently convince
you, how prone the generality are to give an unbounded loose to
these two passions: neither the continual experience of their own
weakness, nor of the fatal effects which are produced by vicious
indulgences, has yet been capable of teaching them either humi-
lity or moderation. What then could the wisest legislator do,
more useful, more benevolent, more necessary, than to establish
general rules of conduct, which have a continual tendency to re-
store moral and natural order, and to diminish the wild inequality
produced by pride and avarice ? Nor is there any greater danger
that these precepts should be too rigidly observed, than that the
bulk of mankind should injure themselves by too abstemious a
temperance. All that can be expected from human weakness,
even in working after the most perfect model, is barely to arrive
at mediocrity ; and, were the model less perfect, or the duties less
severe, there is the greatest reason to think, that even that medio-
crity would never be attained. Examine the conduct of those who
are placed at a distance from all labour and fatigue, and you will
find the most trifling exertions act upon their imaginations, with
the same force as the most insuperable difficulties.
If I have now succeeded in laying down the genuine prin-
ciples of Christian morality, I apprehend it will not be difficult to
deduce the duty of one who takes upon him the office of its mi-
nister and interpreter. He can no more have a right to alter the
slightest of its principles, than the magistrate can be justified in


giving false interpretations to the laws. The more the corruption
of the world increase, the g eatei the obligation that he should
oppose himself to their course; ,ad he can no more relax in his
opposition, than the pilot can abandon the helm, because the
winds and the waves begin to augment their fury. Should he be
despised, or neglected by all the rest of the human species, let him
till persist in bearing testimony to the truth, both in his precepts
and example : the cause of virtue is not desperate while it retains
a single friend; should it even sink for ever, it is enough for him
to have discharged his duty.-But, although he is thus restricted
as to what he shall teach, I do not assert, that it is improper for
him to use his understanding and experience as to the manner of
his instructions. He is strictly bound never to teach any thing
contrary to the purest morality; but he is not bound always to
teach that morality in its greatest extent. In that respect, he may
use the wisdom of the serpent, though guided by the innocence of
the dove. If, therefore, he sees the reign of prejudice and corrup-
tion so firmly established, that men would be offended with the
genuine simplicity of the Gospel, and the purity of its primeval
doctrines, he may so far moderate their rigour, as to prevent them
from entirely disgusting weak and luxurious minds. If we cannot
effect the greatest possible perfection, it is still a material point to
,preserve "from the grossest vices. A physician that practises
amongst the great, may certainly be excused, though he should
not be continually advising the exercise, the regimen of the poor;
not, that the doctrine is not true, but that there would not be the
smallest probability of its ever being adopted. But, although he
never assents to that luxurious method of life, which he is conti-
nually obliged to see, he may content himself with only incul-
cating those restrictions, which even the luxurious may submit to,
if they possess the smallest portion of understanding. Should he
succeed thus far, there is no reason for his stopping in his career,
or not enforcing a superior degree of temperance; but, should it
be difficult to persuade even so slight a restriction, he could hope
for no success, were he to preach up a Spartan or a Roman diet.
Thus the Christian minister may certainly use his own discretion
in the mode of conveying his instructions; and it is permitted him
to employ all his knowledge of the human heart in reclaiming men
from their vices, and winning them over to the cause of virtue.
By the severity of his own manners, he may sufficiently evince the
motives of his conduct; nor can he, by any means, hope for more
B 2

success, than if he shews that he practises more than he preaches,
and uses a greater degree of indulgence to the failings of others,
than he requires for his own."
Nothing," said Mr. Merton, can be more rational or
moderate than these sentiments; why then do you persist in
pleading your incapacity for an employment which you can so
well discharge?"
Because," said Mr. Barlow, he that undertakes the
education of a child, undertakes the most important duty in
society, and is severally answerable for every voluntary omission.
The same mode of reasoning, which I have just been using, is not
applicable here. It is out of the power of any individual, however
strenuous may be his endeavours, to prevent the mass of mankind
from acquiring prejudices and corruptions; and, when he finds
them in that state, he certainly may use all the wisdom he pos-
sesses for their reformation. But this rule will never justify him,
for an instant, in giving false impressions where he is at liberty to
instil truth, and in losing the only opportunity which he perhaps
may ever possess, of teaching pure morality and religion.-How
will such a man, if he has the least feeling, bear to see his pupil
become a slave, perhaps, to the grossest vices; and to reflect,
with a great degree of probability, that this catastrophe has been
owing to his own inactivity and improper indulgence ? May not
all human characters frequently be traced back to impressions
made at so early a period, that none but discerning eyes would
ever suspect their existence Yet nothing is more certain ; what
we are at twenty depends upon what we were at fifteen; what we
are at fifteen upon what we were at ten: where shall we then
place the beginning of the series ?-Besides, sir, the very preju.
dices and manners of society, which seem to be an excuse for the
present negligence in the early education of children, act upon my
mind with a contrary effect. Need we fear that, after every pos-
sible precaution has been taken, our pupil should not give a suffi-
cient loose to his passions, or should be in danger of being too
severely virtuous ? How glorious would be such a distinction, how
much to be wished for, and yet how little to be expected by any
one who is moderately acquainted with the world The instant he
makes his entrance there, he will find a universal relaxation and
indifference to every thing that is serious; every thing will con.
spire to represent pleasure and sensuality as the only business or
human beings, and to throw a ridicule upon every pretence to




principle or restraint. This will be the doctrine that he will learn
at theatres, from his companions, from the polite circles into
which he is introduced. The ladies too will have their share in
the improvement of his character : they will criticize the colour of
his clothes, his method of making a bow, and of entering a room.
They will teach him that the great object of human life is to
please the fair ; and that the only method of doing it is to acquire
the graces. Need we fear that, thus beset on every side, he should
not attach a sufficient importance to trifles, or grow fashionably
languid in the discharge of all his duties ?-Alas sir, it seems to
me that this will unavoidably happen in spite of all our endeavours.
Let us then not lose the important moment of human life, when it
is possible to flatter ourselves with some hopes of success in giving
good impressions : they may succeed ; they may either preserve a
young man from gross immorality, or have a tendency to reform
him, when the first ardour of youth is past. If we neglect this
awful moment, which can never return; with the view which, I
must confess, 1 have of modern manners, it appears to me like
launching a vessel in the midst of a storm, without a compass and
without a pilot."
Sir," said Mr. Merton, "I will make no other answer to what
you have now been saying, than to tell you, it adds, if possible, to
my esteem of your character; and that I will deliver my son into
your hands, upon your own conditions. And as to the terms-"
"Pardon me," replied Mr. Barlow, if I interrupt you here,
and give you another specimen of the singularity of my opinions.
1 am contented to take your son 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 mean time, 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 1 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.



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.-" Every
body that eats," said Mr. Barlow, ought to assist in procuring
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
ploughboy."-" Just as you please, Mr. Gentleman," said
Mr. Barlow: but Harry and I, who are not above being useful,
will mind our work."
In about two hours, Mr. Barlow said it was time to leave off;
and, taking Harry by the hand, he led him into a very pleasant
summer house, where they sat down; and Mr. Barlow, taking out
a plate of very fine ripe cherries, divided them between Harry and
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
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 eat, little Harry said, You
promised to be so good as to hear me read when we had done
working in the garden ; and, if it is agreeable to you, I will now
read the story of the Flies and the Ants."-" With all my heart,"
said Mr. Barlow: remember to read it slowly and distinctly,
without hesitating or pronouncing the words wrong; and be sure
to read it in such a manner as to shew that you understand it."
Harry then took up the book and read as follows:--





IN a coiner of a farmer's garden, there was once a large nest
of Ants, who, during the fine weather of the summer, were
employed all day long in drawing little seeds and grains of corn
into their hole. Near them there happened to be a bed of flowers,
upon which a great quantity of Flies used to be always sporting,
and humming, and diverting themselves by flying from one flower
to another.-A little boy, who was the farmer's son, used
frequently to observe the different employment of these animals;
and, as he was very young and ignorant, he one day thus ex-
pressed himself:-" Can any creature be so simple as these Ants ?
All day long they are working and toiling, instead of enjoying the
fine weather, and diverting themselves like these Flies, who are
the happiest creatures in the world."-Some time after he had
made this observation, the weather grew extremely cold, the sun
yas 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, lie could not help
pitying the unfortunate animals, and asking, at the same time,
what had happened to the Ants that he used to see in the same
place ? The father said, The Flies are all dead, because they
were careless animals, who gave 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 main-
tenance during the winter, are all alive and well ; and you will see
them again as soon as the warm weather returns."

Very well, Harry," said Mr. Barlow, we will now take a
S 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 'ucky,"
said Mr. Barlow, young man, that you a-ked 'he question before
you put them into your mouth; for, har 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 Night-
shade, which is a rank poison."-" Sir," said Harry, 1 take care
never to eat any thing 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 alive.--" 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 bosom 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 dinner.
In the mean time, Tommy, who had been skulking about all
day, very much mortified and uneasy, came in, and, being very
hungry, was going to sit down to table with the rest; but
Mr. Barlow stopped him, and said, No, sir; as you are too
much of 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 perceive that nobody minded his ill temper.
But little Harry, who could not bear to see his friend so un-
happy, 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 ground.-" I see," said Mr. Barlow, that though gentlemen
are above being of any use themselves, they are not above taking


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




THERE was, in a distant part of the world, a rich man, who
lived in a fine house, and spent his time in eating, drinking,
sleeping, and amusing himself. As he had a great many servants
tb wait upon him, who treated him with the greatest respect, and
did whatever they were ordered, and, as he had never been taught
the truth, nor accustomed to hear it, he grew very proud, insolent,
and capricious; imagining that he had a right to command all the
world, and that the poor were only born to serve and obey him.
Near this rich man's house there lived an honest and indus-
trious poor man, who gained his livelihood by making little bas-
kets out of dried reeds, which grew upon a piece of marshy ground


clOee o his cottage. But though he was obliged to labour frAm
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 every body, 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 idle-
ness; 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 dis-
pleased 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 sing-
ing 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,
possest of riches and power, and of more consequence than a
million of reptiles like him, am always melancholy and discon-
tented."-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 pas-
sions, however improper or unjust they might be, he at last deter-
mined to punish the Basket-maker for being happier than himself.
With this wicked design, he one night gave orders to his ser-
vants (who did not dare to disobey him) to set fire to the rushes
which surrounded the poor man's house. As it was summer, and
the weather in that country extremely hot, the fire soon spread
over the whole marsh, and not only 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 puni h 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 importance, and attempted to com-
mit the most scandalous injustice from his contempt of the poor;
I am willing to teach him of how little value he is to arv body,
and how vile and contemptible a creature lie really is: but, for
this purpose, it is necessary that you should consent to the plan I
have formed, and go along with him.to the place whither I intend
to send you both."
The poor man replied, ( I never had much; but the little I
once had, is now lost by the mischievous disposition of this proud
and oppressive man: I am entirely ruined; I have no means left
in the world of procuring myself a morsel of bread the next time I
am hungry; therefore I am ready to go wherever you please to
send me: and, though I would not treat thisman as he has treated
me, yet should I rejoice to teach him inore 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, without 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-masker, who had always been
accustomed to hardship and dangers from his infancy, made signs
to tne people, that he was their friend, and was willing to work
tur 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 shewing 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 deli-
cate, 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 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 shewed 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 mor-
tification.-It happened that one of the savages had found some-
thing like a fillet, with which he adorned his forehead, and seemed
to think himself extremely fine: the Basket-maker, who had per-
ceived this appearance of vanity, pulled up some reeds, and, sitting
down to work, in a very 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 for 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 Bas-
ket-maker, making signs that he wanted to be ornamented like his
companion; and, with such pleasure were these chaplets consi-
dered 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 shewed him every demonstration of




gratitude and kindness.-But the rich man, whe possessed neither
talentss to please, nor strength to labour, was condemned to be the
Basket maker's servant, and to cut him reeds to supply the conti-
nual demand for chaplets.
*After having passed some months in this manner, they were
again transported to their own country, by the orders of the magis-
trate, and brought before him.-He then looked sternly upon the
rich man, and said: '" Having now taught you how helpless, con-
temptible, and feeie a creature you are, as well as how inferior to
the man you insulted, I shall proceed to make reparation to him
for the injury you have inflicted upon him. Did 1 treat you as
you deserve, I should take from you all the riches that you pos-
sess, as you wantonly deprived this poor man of his whole sub-
sistence; but, hoping that you will become more humane for the
future, 1 sentence you to give half your fortune to this man, whom
you endeavoured to ruin."
Upon this, the Basket-maker said, after thanking the magis-
trate for his goodness :--" I, having been bred up in poverty, and
accustomed to labour, have no desire to acquire riches, which I
should not know how to use: all, therefore, that IL require of this
man is, to put me into the same situation 1 was in before, and to
learn more humanity."
The rich man could not help being astonished at this genero-
sity; 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 fel-
low creatures.

The story being ended, Tommy said it was very pretty ; but
that, had he been the good Basket-maker, he would have taken the
naughty rich man's fortune and kept it.-" So would not I," said
Harry, for fear of growing as proud, and wicked, and idle as the
other." "
From this time forward, Mr. Barlow and his two little pupils
used constantly to work in their garden every morning; and, when
they were fatigued, they retired to the summer house, where little
Harry, who improved every day in reading, used to entertain them
with sone 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 were retired to
the summer-house as usual, Tommy expected Mr. Barlow would
read to him ; but, to his great disappointment, found that lie was
busy and could not. The next day, the same accident was re-
newed and the day after that. At this, Tommy lost all patience,
and said to himself, Now, if I could but read like Harry Sand-
ford, I should not need to ask any body to do it for me, and then I
could divert myself: and why (thinks he) may not I do what
another has done? To be sure, little Harry is very clever; but lie
could not have read if he had not been taught ; and if 1 am taught,
I dare say 1 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 ?"
IHarriy. Why, Mr. Barlow taught me my letters, and then
spelling; and then, by putting syllables together, I learned to
read.-Tomrnmy. And could not you shew me my letters?-lHarry.
Yes, very willingly.
Harry then took up a book, and Tommy was so eager and at-
AIIAPHET. He was infinitely pleased with this first experiment,
and could scarcely forbear running to Mr. Barlow, to let him
know the improvement he had made; but he thought he should
surprise him more, if he said nothing about the matter till he was
able to read a whole story. He therefore applied himself with
such diligence, and little Harry, who spared no pains to assist his
friend, was so good a master, that in about two months he deter.
mined to surprise Mr. Barlow with a display of his talents. Ac.
cordingly, one day, when they were all assembled in the summer.
house, and the book was given to Harry, Tommy stood up and
said, that, if Mr. Barlow pleased, he would try to read.-" Oh!
very willingly," said Mr. Barlow; but I should as soon expect
you to fly as to read." Tommy smiled with a consciousness of
his own proficiency; and, taking up the book, read with great


T111",~ I-11STORY~L OF




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 be-
tween the brother whelps.-Jowler was sent into a plentiful
kitchen, where he quickly became the favourite of all the servants,
who diverted themselves with his little tricks and wanton gam-
bols, and rewarded him with great quantities of pot-liquor and
broken victuals; by which means, as he was stuffing from morn-
ing till night, he increased considerably 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 mean time, who lived at a cottage in the country,
neither fared so well, looked so plump, nor had learned all these
pretty liiale tricks to recommend him : but, as his master was tuo
S poor to, maintain any thing but what was useful, and was obliged
to be continually in the air, subject to all kinds of weather, and
labouring hard for a livelihood, Keeper grew hardy, active, and di-
ligent: he was also exposed to continual danger from the
wolves, from whom he had received many a severe bite, while he
was guarding the flocks. These continual combats gave him that
degree of intrepidity, that no enemy could make him turn his back.
His care and 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 too was so great, that no temptation
could overpower it; and, though he was left alone in the kitchen
while the meat was roasting, he never attempted to taste it, but
received with thankfulness whatever his master chose to give him.
From a continual life in the air, he was become so hardy, that no
tempest could drive him to shelter, when he ought to be employed
in watching the flocks; and he would plunge into the most rapid
river, in the coldest weather of the winter, at the slightest sign
from his master.
About this time it happened, that the landlord of the por r
man went to examine his estate in the country, and brought Jowler
within him to the place of his birth.-At his arrival there, he could
not help viewing with great contempt the rough, ragged appear-
ance of Keeper, and his awkward look, which discovered nitlii.;
of the address for which he so much admired Jowler. This opi-
nion, however, was altered by means of an accident which hap-
pened to him.-As he was one day walking in a thick w no other company than the two dogs, a hungry wolf, vith eyes
that sparkled like fire, bristling hair, and a horrid snarl that made
the gentleman tremble, rushed out of a neighboring thicket, and
seemed ready to devour him. The unfortunate man gave himself
over for lost, more especially when he saw that his faithful Jowler.
instead of coming to his assistance, ran 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 ex.
ert all his strength in his own defence. 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 mas.
ter, who came up at that instant. The gentleman was filled with
joy for his escape, and gratitude to his valiant deliverer; and
learned by his own experience, that appearances are not always to
be trusted, and that great virtues and good dispositions may some-
times be found in cottages, while they are totally wanting among
the great.-

Very well indeed," said Mr. Barlow; "I find that when
young gentlemen choose to ta'e 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 de-
fence ?"-" Indeed sir," said Tommy, I would rather have had
Keeper; but then I would have fed him, and washed him, and
combed him, till he had looked as well as Jowler."--" But then,
perhaps, he would have grown idle, and fat, and cowardly, like
him," said Mr. Barlow : but here is some more of it; let us read
to the end of the story."-Tommy then went on thus:

The gentleman was so pleased with the noble behaviour of
Keeper, that he desired the po a man to make him a present of the
dog; which, though with some reluctance, he complied with.--
Ieeper was therefore taken to the city, where he was caressed and
fed by every body; and the disgraced Jowler was left at the cot-
tage, with strict injunctions to the man to hang him up, as a worth.
less, unprofitable cur.
As soon as the gentleman had departed, the poor man was going
to -eecute 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 day, Jowler 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 fire-side : 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
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. Neces-
sity makes even cowards brave. Jowler being thus stopped i-' his


retreat, turned upon his enemy, and, very luckily seizing him by
the throat, strangled him in an instant. His master then coming
%tp, and being witness of his exploit, praised him, and stroked him
/ith a degree of fondness he had never done before. Animated by
this victory, and by the approbation of his master, Jowler, from
tlat 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 mean time, Keeper, instead of hunting wild beasts, or
looking after sheep. did nothing but eat and sleep, which he was
permitted to do from a remembrance of his past services. As all
qualities both of mind and body are lost, if not continually exer-
cised, he soon ceased to be that haryv, 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.
Accordingly the country-people having quickly found one in a
neighboring wood, the gentleman went thither with Keeper, ex-
pecting 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 mo-
nment, another dog sprang forward, and seizing the wolf with the
greatest intrepidity, after a bloody contest, left him dead upon the
ground. The gentleman could not help lamenting the cowardice
of his favourite, and admiring the noble spirit of the other dog,
whom, to his infinite surprise, he found to be the same Jowler that
he had discarded the year before.-" I now see," said he to the
farmer, that it is in vain to expect courage in those who live a
life of indolence and repose; and that constant exercise and pro-
per discipline are frequently able to change contemptible charac-
ters into good ones."

Indeed," said Mr. Barlow, when the story was ended, I
am sincerely glad to find that Tommy has made this acqtisiition.
He will now depend upon nobody, but be able to divert himself
whenever he pleases. All that has ever been written in our own
language will be from this time in his power; whether he chooses
to read little entertaining stories like what we have heard to-day,
or to read the actions of great and good men in history, or to make




himself acquainted with the nature of wild beasts and birds, which
are found in other countries, and have been described in books:
in short, I scarcely know of any thing 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
Yes," said Tommy, something elated by all this praise, I
am determined now to make myself as clever as any body ; and I
don't doubt, though I am such a little fellow, that I know more
already than many grown-up people; 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 4 story like me Mr. Barlow looked a little
grave at this sudden display of vanity; and said rather coolly,
"Pray, who has attempted to teach them any thing ?"-" Nobody,
I believe," said Tommy.--" Where is the great wonder then, if
they are ignorant?" replied Mr. Barlow; you would probably
have never known any thing, 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 pre-
vented them from appearing. He was, in particular, very pas-
sionate, and thought he had a right to command every body that
was not dressed as fine as himself. This opinion often led him
into inconveniences, and once was the occasion of his being very
severely mortified.
This accident happened in the following manner:-One day,
as Tommy was striking a ball with his bat, he struck it over a
hedge into an adjoining field, and seeing a little ragged boy walk-
ing 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 rore 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! are you not ?" replied Tommy; then
bring me my ball directly."-" I don't choose it," said the boy.--
"Sirrah," said Tommy, "if I come to you, I shall make you
choose it."-" 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
tnch of your life." To this the other made no answer but by a


;oud laugh; which provoked Tommy so much, that he clambered
over the hedge, and jumped precipitately down, intending to have
leaped into the field; but unfortunately his foot slipped, and down
he rolled into a wet ditch, which was full of mud and water;
there poor Tommy tumbled about for some time, endeavouring to
get out; but it was to no purpose, 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 distress, 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 dirty plight, that Mr. Barlow, who happened to meet
him, was afraid he had been considerably hurt; but, when he
heard the accident which had happened, he could not help smiling,
and he advised Tommy to be more careful for the future, how he
attempted to thrash little ragged boys.
The next day, Mr. Barlow desired Harry, when they were
altogether 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 mi-
sery 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
he 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 de-
serts and woods, inhabited only by wild beasts: but they cannot
use me more cruelly than I have been used by my fellow-crea-
tures: Therefore, I will rather trust myself with them, than con-
tinue to be a miserable slave."
Having formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of leav-
ing 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. IIe wandered about all day through a vast


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 acci-
S dent.-
"* Poor man !" said Harry, whose little heart could scarcely
contain 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 be-
have so cruelly to another, and why should one person be the ser-
S vant 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,
S and then they must do as they are bid. I 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
S to beat them, and kick them, and throw things at them, whenever
I was angry ; and they never dared strike me again, because they
S were slaves."
S" And pray, young man," said Mr. Barlow, ** how came
these people to be slaves ?"
fTommy. Because my father bought them with his money.-
Mr. Barlow. So then, people that are bought with money are
slaves, are they?-T. Yes.-Mr. B. And those that buy them
have a right to kick them, and beat them, and do as they please
with them ?-T. Yes.--Mr. B. Then, if I was to take you and sell
you to Farmer Sandford, he would have a right to do what lie
pleased with you.-No, sir, said Tommy, somewhat warmly; but
you would have no right to sell me, nor he to buy me.-Mr. B.
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 an-
other, and the man who buys, having a right to purchase ?-_T.
Yes, sir.-iMr. B And what right have the people who sold the
poor negroes to your father, to sell them ? or what right has your
father to buy themr?-Here Tommy seemed to be a good deal put-
zled; but, at length he said, They are brought from a country
that is a great way o, 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 ?-T. No, but you won't, sir,
because 1 was born a gentleman.-Mr. B. What do you mean by
that, Tommy !-Why (said Tommy, a little confounded), to have

.A : ;-


a fine house, and fine clothes, and a coach, and a great deal of
money, as my papa has.-Mr. B. Then, if 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 ?-T. No, sir, that would not be right neither, that
any body should use me ill.-Mr. B. Then one person should not
use another ill ?-T. No, sir.-Mr B. .To make a slave of any
)ody is to use him ill, is it not ?-T. I think so.-Mr. B. Then
so one ought to make a slave of you ?-T. No, indeed, sir.--
Mr. B. But if no one should use another ill, and making a slave
of a person is using him ill, neither ought you to make a slave of
any one else.-T. 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 do.-Mr. B. 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 o.
some wild beast, and terrified him very much. HE STARTED IUP
WITI A DESIGN TO ESCAPE, and had already reached the mouth of
the cave, when he saw coming towards him a lion of prodigious
size, who prevented any possibility of 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 assistance of the man.
Androcles, who was naturally of a resolute disposition, ac-
quired courage, from this circumstance, to examine his monstrous
guest, who gave him sufficient leisure for that purpose. lHe 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 demea-
nour 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 whicl
he had observed. Androcles found that the beast, far from resent.
ing this familiarity, received it with the greatest gentleness, and
seemed to invite him by his blandishments to proceed. He there-
fore 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, w;.2ael his enormous tail,
and licked the feet and hands of his physician. Nor was lie con-
tented with these demonstrations of kintdness: from this moment
Androcles became his guest; nor did the lion ever sally forth in
quest of prey without bringing home the Iproduce of his chase, and
sharing it with his friend. In this savage state of hospitality did
the nian continue to live dining 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
*hat country being very severe against slaves, he was tried, and
found guilty of having fled from his master, and, as a punishment
for this pretended crime, he was sentenced to be torn in pieces by
a furious lion, kept many days without food, to inspire him with
additional rage.
When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy man was
exposed, unarmed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed on
every side, round which many thousand people were assembled te
view the mournful spectacle.
Presently a dreadful %ell was heard, which struck the spec-
tators with horror ; and a monstrous lion rushed out of a den,
hlich was purposely set open ; and darted forward with erected
mane, and flaming eyes, and jaws that gaped like an open sepul-
chre.--A mournful silence instantly prevailed All eyes were
turned upon tlie 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 iimn
as a faithful dog would do upon his master, and rejoice over him
as a mother that unexpectedly recovers her offspring. The go-
vernor of the town, who was present, then called out with a loud
voice, and ordered Androcles 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 disposi-
tion, and be converted into a harmless and inoffensive animal.
Androcles then related to the assembly every circumstance of
his adventures in the woods, and concluded by saying, that the

very lion which now stood before them, had been his friend and
entertainer in the woods. All the persons present were astonished
and delighted with the story, to find that even the fiercest beasts
are capable of being softened by gratitude, and moved by hu-
manity ; and they unanimously joined to entreat for the pardon of
the unhappy man from the governor of the place. This was imme-
diately 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 every thing 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
any thing, 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
reasons whatsoever."
Indeed, sir," said Harry, I think so. And I remember,
as I was walking along the road, some days past, I saw a little
naughty boy that used a poor jack-ass 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.
B3arlow.-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 somebody that was stronger than himself ?-Mr. B. And
what answer did he make you ?-H. 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. B. And what answer
did you make; any ?-H. 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 IHe 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.-Mr. B.
And did he strike you ?-H. Yes, sir. He endeavoured to strike
me upon the head with his stick, but I dodged, and so it fel' upon




mTO shoulder; and be 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 him.- Mr. B. It is not uncommon for those
who are most cruel, to be at the same time most cowardly: but
what did you ?-H. 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 me not to hurt the poor beast any more : which
he did, and then 1 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. B. And what rig~t had you
to oblige him to bring your ball !-T. Sir, he was a little ragged
boy, and I am a gentleman.-Mr. B. So then, every gentleman
has a right to command little ragged boys ?- T. to be sure, sir.-
Mr. B. 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. B. 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 find few
inclined to serve them. But as the boy was poor and ragged,
I suppose you hired him with money to fetch your ball.-7T.
Indeed, sir, I did not; I neither gave him any thing, nor offered
him any thing.--Mr. B. Probably you had nothing to give him ?-
T. Yes, I had, though; I had all this money (pulling out several
shillings).-Mr. B. Perhaps the boy was as ricd as you.-T. No,
he was not, sir, 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. B. So, now I see
what constitutes a gentleman. A gentleman is one that, when he
,has abundance of every thing, 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 insolence, never feels
any gratitude, or does them any good in return. I find that An-
droclis' lion was no gentleman.
Tommy was so affected with this rebuke, that he could hardly
contain his tears; and, as he was really a boy of a generous
temper, he determined to give the little ragged boy something the

very first time he should see him again.-He did not long wait for
an opportunity; for, as he was walking out that very afternoon,
he saw him at some distance gathering blackberries, and, going up
to him, he accosted him thus: Little boy, I want to know why
you are so ragged have you no other clothes ?"-" No, indeed,"
said the boy; I have seven brothers and sisters, and they are all
as ragged as myself: but I should not much mind that, if I could
have my belly full of victuals."-Tommy. And why cannot you
have your belly full of victuals ?-Little Boy. Because Daddy's ill
of a fever, and can't work this harvest; 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 more."
Nothing could equal the joy which appeared in the boy's
countenance at receiving this present, excepting what Tommy
himself felt the first time at the idea of doing a generous and
grateful action. He strutted away without waiting for the little
boy's acknowledgment, and, happening to meet Mr. Barlow, as he
was returning home, told him, with an air of exultation, what he
had done. Mr. Barlow coolly answered, "( You have done very
well in giving the little boy clothes, because they are 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. B. This is a
very good reason why you should give them what belongs to your-
self; but not why you should give away what is another's. What
would you say, if Harry were to give away all your clothes, with-
out asking your leave ?-T. 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."






Cvnris was a little boy of very good dispositions, and a very
humane temper. lie had several masters, who endeavoured to
teach him every thing 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," sani
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
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, 1
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 tne bunate
befqe him, saying, Here, master, take your clothes again; e;v


I wish that they had been at the bottom of the ditch I pulled you
out of, instead of upon my back :-but I never will put such
frippery on again as long as I have breath in my body."
( What is the matter?" said Mr. Barlow; who perceived
that some unfortunate accident had happened in consequence of
Tommy's present.
Cc Sir," answered the little boy, my little master here was
going to beat me, because I would not fetch his ball. Now as to
the matter of that, I would have brought his ball with all my
heart, if he had but asked me civilly. But though I am poor, I
am not bound to be his slave, as they say black William is ; and
so I would not: upon which, little master here was jumping over
the hedge to lick me; but, instead of that, he soused into the
ditch, and there he lay rolling about till I helped him out: and so
he gave me these clothes here, all out 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 !' says I, Jacky, are you at that work ?'-
and with that I hit him a punch in the belly, 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 beach
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
common, and at the end of Runny-lane: on which, Mr. Barlow
told. Harry, that he would send the poor man some broth and
victuals, if he would carry it when it was ready.--" That I will,"
said Harry, if it were five times as far." So Mr. Barlow went
into the house to give orders about it.
In the mean time Tommy, who had eyed the little boy for
some time in silence, said, So, my poor boy, you have been
beaten and hurt till you are all over bloody, only because 1 gave
vou 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
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; 1 would give them to him."-" I hat 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. They accordingly set
out before breakfast, and had proceeded nearly half way, when
they heard the noise of a pack of hounds that seemed to be run-
ning full cry at some distance. Tommy then asked Harry if he
knew what they were about.-" Yes," said Harry, I know well
enough what they are about; it is squire Chase and his dogs
worrying a poor hare. But I wonder they are not ashamed to
meddle with such a poor inoffensive creature, that cannot defend
itself: if they have a mind to hunt, why don't they hunt lions,
and tigers, and such fierce mischievous creatures, as I have read
they do in other countries?"-" Oh! dear," said Tommy, how is
that? it must surely be very dangerous."--"Why, you must know,"
said Harry, the men are accustomed in some places to go almost
naked ; and that makes them so prodigiously nimble, that they
can run like a deer; and, when a lion or tiger comes into their
neighbourhood, and devours their sheep or oxen, they go out six
or seven. together, armed with javelins; and they run over all the
woods, and examine every place till they have found him; and
they make a noise to provoke him to attack them : then he begins
roaring and foaming, and beating his sides with his tail, till, in a
violent fury, he springs at the man that is nearest to him."-
"Oh dear," said Tommy, "he must certainly be torn to pieces."
-"No such thing," answered Harry ; he jumps like a grey-
hound out of the way, while the next man throws his javelin at
the lion, and perhaps wounds him in the side : this enrages him
still more ; he springs again, like lightning, upon the man that
wounded him ; but this man avoids him like the other; and at
last the poor beast drops down dead, with the number of wounds
he has received."-" Oh i" said Tommy, it must be a very
strange sight; I should like to see it out of a window, where I
was safe."-" So should not I," answered Harry ; for it must
be a great pity to see such a noble animal tortured and killed; but
they are obliged to do it in their own defence. But these poor
hares do nobody any harm, excepting the farmers, by eating a
little of their corn sometimes."


As they were talking in this manner, Harry, casting his eyes
on one side, said, As I am alive, there is the poor hare skulking
along I hope they will not be able to find her; and, if they ask
me, I will never tell them which way she is gone."
Presently up came the dogs, who had now lost all scent of
their game, and a gentleman mounted upon a fine horse, who
asked Harry, if he had seen the hare ? Harry made no answer;
but, upon the gentleman's repeating the question in a louder tone
of voice, he answered that he had.-" And which way is she
gone ?" said the gentleman.-.( Sir, I don't choose to tell you,"
answered Harry, after some hesitation.-" Not choose !" said the
gentleman, leaping off his horse; but I'll make you choose it
in an instant ;"-and, coming up to Harry, who never moved
from the place where he had been standing, began to lash him in
a most unmerciful manner with his whip, continually repeating,
" New you little rascal, do you choose to tell me now "--To
which, Harry made no other answer than this: If I would not
tell you before, I won't now, though you should kill me."
But this fortitude of Harry, and the tears of Tommy, who
cried in the bitterest manner to see the distress of his friend made
no impression on this barbarian, who continued his brutality till
another gentleman rode up full speed, and said, For God's sake,
Squire, what are you about? You will kill the child, if you do not
take care."-" And the little dog deserves it," said the other;
*' he has seen the hare, and will not tell me which way she is
gone."-" Take care," replied the gentleman, in a low voice,
you don't involve yourself in a disagreeable affair; I know the
other to be the son of a gentleman of great fortune in the neigh-
bourhood:"-and then. turning to Harry, he said, Why, my
dear, would not you tell the gentleman which way the hare had
gone, if you saw her "-" Because," answered Harry, as soon as
he had recovered breath enough to speak, "I don't choose to be-
tray the unfortunate."-" This boy," said the gentleman, is a
prodigy; and it is a happy thing for you, Squire, that his age is
not equal to his spirit. But you are always passionate-" .
At this moment the hounds recovered the scent, and bursting out
into a full cry, the Squire mounted his horse, and galloped away,
attended by all his companions.
When they were gone, Tommy came up to Harry in the most
affectionate manner, and asked him how he did ?-" A little sore,"
said Harry; "but that does not signify."- Tommy. I wish I had




had a pistol or a sword !-Harry.q Why what would you have done
with it?-T. I would have killed that good-for-nothing man who
treated you so cruelly.-H. That would have been wrong, Tommy;
for I am sure he did not want to kill me. Indeed, if I had been a
man, he should not have used me so ; but it is all over now, and
we ought to forgive our enemies, as Mr. Barlow tells us Christ
did; andthen perhaps they may come to love us, and be sorry for
what they had done.-T. But how could you bear to be so se-
verely whipped, without crying out !- 1. Why, crying out would
have done me no good at all, would it'? And this is nothing to
what many little boys have suffered without ever flinching or be-
moaning themselves.-T. Well, I should have thought a great
deal.-H. Oh it's nothing to what the young Spartans used to
suffer.-T. Who were they -H. Why, you must know they were
a very brave set of people, that lived a great while ago : and, as
they were but few in number, and were surrounded by a great
many enemies, they used to endeavour to make their little boys
very brave and hardy : and these little boys used to be always
running about, half naked, in the open air, and wrestling and
jumping, and exercising themselves; and then had very coarse
food, and hard beds to lie upon, and were never pampered and
indulged : and all this made them so strong and hardy and brave,
that the like was never seen.-T. What, and had they no coaches
to ride in, nor sweetmeats; nor wine, nor any body to wait upon
them?-H. Oh dear, no; their fathers thought that would spoil
them; and so they all fared alike, and ate together in great rooms;
and there they were taught to behave orderly and decently ; and,
when dinner was over, they all went to play together; and, if
they committed any faults, they were severely whipped; but they
never minded it, and scorned to cry out, or make a wry face.
As they were conversing in this manner, they approached the
village; where Tommy laid out all his money, amounting to fif-
teen 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 '"- Toimra. Why, it is not fit for a gentleman to
carry things himself.-Harry. Why, what hurt does it do him, if
he is but strong enough. --T. I do not know ; but I believe it is
that he may not look like the common people.-H Then he
should not have hands, or feet, or eyes, or ears, or mouth, because


the common people have the same.-T. No, no; he must have all
these, because they are useful.-H. And is it not useful to be able
to do things for ourselves ?-T. Yes ; but gentlemen have or!t :s
to do what they want for them.--H Then I should think it must
be a bad thing to be a gentleman.-T. Why so ?-H. Because, if
all were gentlemen, nobody would do any thing, and then we should
be all starved.-T. Starved !-H. Yes; why you could not live,
could you, without bread ?-T. No, I know that very well.-H.
And bread is made of a plant that grows in the earth, and is called
wheat.--T. Why then, I would gather it and eat it.-- H. Then
you must do something for yourself: but that would not do ; or
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.
---T. No, certainly; but how comes bread then ?--H. Why, they
send the corn to the mill.--T. What is a mill --H. What, did
you never see a mill ?--T. No, never ; but I should like to see
one, that I may know how they make bread.--H. 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.--T. That 1 will, for I should
like to see them make bread.
As they were conversing in this manner, they heard a great
outcry, and, turning their heads, saw a horse that was galloping
violently along, and dragging his rider along with him, who had
fallen off, and, in falling, hitched his foot in the stirrup. Luckily
for the person, it happened to be wet ground, and the side of a hill,
which prevented the horse from going very fast, and the rider from
being much hurt. But Harry, who was always prepared to do an
act of humanity, even with the danger of his life, and, besides that,
was a boy of extraordinary courage and agility, ran up towards a
gap which he saw the horse approaching, and just as lie made a
little pause before he vaulted over, caught him by the bridle, and
effectually stopped him from proceeding. In an instant, another
gentleman came up with two or three servants, who alighted from
their horses, di engaged the fallen person, and set him upon his
legs. He stared wildly round him for some time: as he was not
materially hurt, he soon recovered his senses, and the first use he
made of them, was to swear at his horse, and to ask who had stop-
ped the confounded jade ?-" WVho ?" said his friend: why the
very little boy that you used so scandalously this morning : had it
not been for his dexterity and courage, that numskull of yours
would have had more flaws in it than it ever had before."




The Squire considered Harry with a countenance in which
shame and humiliation seemed yet to struggle with his natma!
insolence; but at length, putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled
out a guinea, which he offered to Harry, telling him at the same
time, he was very sorry for what had happened; but Harry, with
a look of more contempt than he had ever been seen to assume
before, rejected the present, and, taking up the bundle which he
had dropped at the time he seized the Squire's horse, walked away,
accompanied by his companion.
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
Ihe judged proper for his disease. Tommy then asked for the little
boy, and on his coming in, told him that he had now brought him
some clothes, which he might wear without fear of being called a
Frenchman, as well as some more for his little brothers. The pleasure
with which they were received, was so great, and the acknowledg-
ments and blessings of the good woman and the 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 play-things.
Some few days after this, as Mr. Barlow and the two boys
were walking out together,, they happened to pass near a windmill;
and on Harry's telling Tommy what it was, Tommy desired leave
to go into it, and look at it. Mr. 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 continually
turned round by the wind, moved a great flat stone, which, by rub-
bing upon another stone, bruised all the corn that was put between
them, till it became a fine powder.-" Oh, dear!" said Tommy,
is this the way they make bread ?"-Mr. Barlow told him, this
was the method by which the corn was prepared for making bread;
but that many other things were necessary, before it arrived at that
state :-" you see that what runs from these mill-stones is only afine
powder, very different from bread, which is a solid and tolerably
hard substance."


As they were going home, Harry said to Tommy, So you see
now, that if nobody chose to work, or do any thing 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.--Tomm y.
Why not ? does not corn grow in the ground of itself ?-Harry.
Corn grows in the ground ; but then first it is necessary to plough
the ground, to break it to pieces.-T. What is ploughing ?-il.
Did you never see three or four horses drawing something along
tlie fields in a straight line, while one man drove and another walked
behind, holding the thing by two handles ?-T. Yes, I have, and
is that ploughing ?-H. It is: and there is a sharp iron under-
neath, which runs into the ground, and turns it up all tie way it
goes.-T. Well, and what then ?-H. 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.-T. I protest it must be very curious, and I should like
to sow some seed myself, and see it grow: do you think I could ?--
H. Yes, certainly ; and if you will dig the ground to-morrow, I
will go home to my father, in order to procure some seed for you.
The next morning, Tommy was up almost as soon as it was
light, and went to work in a corner of the garden, where lie dug
with great perseverance till breakfast: when he came in he could
not help telling 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 it ?--" V \ \ sir," said Tommy, "a I intend to send it to
the mill that we saw, a have it ground into flour ; and then 1 will
get you to shew me how to make bread of it; and then I will eat
it, that 1 may tell my father that I have eaten bread out of corn of
my own sowing."-" That will be very well done," said Mr. Bar-
low; but where will be the great goodness that you sow corn for
your own eating ? that is no more than all the people round con-
tinually 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."--" VWhat then," answered Mr. Barlow, must not gentle-
men 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 themselves."- 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. B. Then they pay for it with money !
-T. Yes, sir.--Mr. B. Then they must have money before they
can buy corn ?--T. Certainly, sir.--Mr. B. But have all gentle-
men money ?-Tommy hesitated some time at this question: at
last he said, 1 believe not always, sir."--Mr. B. '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 any body good-
natured enough to give it them."--'" But," said Mr. Barlow, as
we are talking upon this subject, I will tell you a story that I read
a little time past, if you choose to hear it."--Tommy said he should
be very glad if Mr. Barlow would take the trouble of telling it to
him; and Mr. Barlow told him the following history of



ABOUT the time that many people went over to South America,
with the hopes of finding gold and silver, there was a Spaniard,
whose name was Pizarro, who had a great inclination to try his
fortune like the rest: but. as he had an elder brother, for whom
lie 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 understanding; he did not therefore much ap-
prove of the project, and endeavoured to dissuade Pizarro from it,
by setting before him the danger to which he exposed himself, and
the uncertainty of his succeeding; 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 embarked with several other adventurers,
who had all great expectations, like himself, of soon becoming
rich.-As to Alonzo, he took nothing with him but a few ploughs
harrows, and other tools, and some corn, together with a large


quantity of potatoes, and some seeds of different vegetables. Pi-
zarro thought this a very odd preparation for a voyage ; but, as he
did not think proper to expostulate with his brother, he said
After sailing for some time with prosperous winds, they put
into the last port where they were to stop, before they came to the
country where they were to search for gold. Here Pizarro bought
a great number more of pickaxes, shovels, and various other tools
for digging, melting, and refining the gold he expected to fine, be-
sides 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 America. 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 de-
sired, should be always ready to embark for Spain with him.
Pizarro accordingly set out, not without feeling so great a
contempt for his brother, that he could not help expressing it to
his companions.-'" I always thought," said he, that my bro-
ther 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 enriched 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.
'I hey 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 paths; sometimes scorched by
the violent heat of the sun, and then wetted to the skin by violent
snowers of rain. These difficulties, however, did not discourage
them so rouch as to hinder them from trying in several places for
gold, wnich they were at length lucky enough to find in a con-
siderable quantity.---This success animated them very much, and




they continued working upon that spot till all their provisions were
consumed ; they gathered daily large quantities of ore, but then
they suffered very much from hunger. Still, however, they per-
severed 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
to a very different purpose. His skill in husbandry had easily
enabled him to find a spot of considerable extent and very fertile
soil, which he ploughed up with the oxen he had brought with
him, and the assistance of his servants. He then sowed the dif-
ferent seeds he had brought, and planted the potatoes, which
prospered beyond what he could have expected, and yielded him
a most abundant harvest. Ilis sheep he had turned out in a very
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? Fli-
zarro 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, ex-
cepting the roots and bark of trees. Alonzo then very coolly an-
swered 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 pro-
cured with so much care and labour.-" But," added he, it you
choose to exchange some of the gold you have found, for pro-
visions, 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 sli rt
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 perish 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 following 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 acquired 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 astonish-
ment at this generosity of his brother, and he acknowledged from
experience, that industry was better than gold. They then em-
barked for Spain, where they all safely arrived : during the voyage,
Pizarro often solicited his brother to accept of half his riches,
which Alonzo constantly refused, telling him, that he that could
raise food enough to maintain himself, 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 otaly 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 their money."-" But," said Mr. Barlow, is a man sure to be
always in England, or some place where he can purchase bread V'
-Temm.y. I believe so, sir.-Mr. B. Why, are there not countries


in the world, where there are no inhabitants, and where no corn is
raised?-T. Certainly, sir: this country which the two brothers
went to was such a place.-Mr. B. And there are many other such
countries in the worid.-T. But then a man need not go to them;
he may stay at home.--Mr. B. Then he must not pass the seas in
a ship.-T. Why so, sir ?--Mr. B. Because the ship may happen
to be wrecked upon some such country where there are no inhabit-
ants; and then, although he should escape the danger of the sea
what will he do for food ?-T. And have such accidents sometimes
happened ?-Mr. B. Yes, several : there was, in particular, one
Selkirk, who was shipwrecked, and obliged to live several years
upon a desert island.-T. That was very extraordinary indeed
and how did he get victuals ?-Mlr. B. He sometimes procured
roots; sometimes fruits: he also at last Lecame so active, that he
was able to pursue and catch wild goats, with which the island
abounded.-T. And did not such a hard, disagreeable way of life
kill him at last ?-Ilr. B. By no means: he never enjoyed better
health in his life: and you have heard that he became so active as
to be able to overtake the very wild beasts. But a still more ex-
traordinary story is that of some Russians, who were left on the
coast of Spitzbergen, where they were obliged to stay several years
-T. Where is Spitzbergen, sir ?-Mr. B. It is a country very far
to the north, which is constantly covered with snow and ice, be-
cause the weather is unremittingly 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 is inaccessible to ships: so that it is impos-
sible 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 difficulties during several years, and three
of them returned.at last safe to their own country.-T. This
must be a very curious story indeed; I would give any thing to be
.ble to see it.-Mr. B. That you may very easily. When 1 read
S it, I copied over several parts of it, I thought it so curious and in-
J-teresting, which I can easily find, and will shew you.-Here it is;
Sbut it is necessary first to inform you, that those northern seas,
Strom the intense cold of the climate, are so full of ice, as frequently
to render it extremely dangerous to ships, lest they should be
i .crushed between two pieces of immense size, or so completely sur-
S -rounded, as not to be able to extricate themselves. Having given
)yu this previous information, you will easily understand the dis-
E 2


tressful situation of a Russian ship, which, as it was sailing in
those seas, was on a sudden so surrounded by ice, as not to be able
to move. My extracts begin here; and you may read them.

Extracts from a Narratire of the extraordinary Adventures of Four
Russian Sailors, who were cast away on the Desert Island of East

" -IN this alarming state (that is, when the ship was surrounded
with ice), a council was held ; when the mate, Alexis Hinkof, in-
formed them, that he recollected to have heard, that some of the
people of Mesen, some time before, having formed a resolution of
wintering upon this island, had carried from that city timber proper
for building 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 dispatched, therefore, four of their crew in search of the hut,
or any other succour they could meet with. These were Alexis
Hlinkof the mate, Iwan Hinkof his godson, Stephen Scarassof, and
Feodor Weregin.
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 overburthened, 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 is-
land, little suspecting the misfortunes that would befal them.-They
began with exploring the country, and soon discovered the hut they
were in search of, about an English mile ant 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 antichamber, about twelve feet


oroad 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; this 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
discovered 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 rea-
ders to figure to themselves the astonishment and agony of mind
these poor people must have felt, when, on reaching the place of
their landing, they saw nothing but an open sea, free from the ice,
which but a day before had covered the ocean. A violent storm,
which had arisen during the night, had certainly been the cause of
this disastrous event: but they could not tell whether the ice, which
had before hemmed in the vessel, agitated by the violence of tht
waves, had been driven against hei', and shattered her to pieces :
or, whether she had been carried by the currant 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 afterward received of her, it is most probable that
she sunk, and that all on board of her perished.
This melancholy event depriving the unhappy wretches of
all hope of ever being able to quit the island, they returned to the
hut, whence they had come, full of horror and despair."-

Oh! dear," cried Tommy at this passage, "what a dreadful
situation these poor people must have been in To be in such a
cold country, covered with snow and frozen with ice, without any
body to help them, or give them victuals : I should think they
must all have died."-" That you will soon see," said Mr. Bar-
low, when you have read the rest of the story: but tell me one
thing, Tommy, before you proceed. These four men were poor
sailors, who had always been accustomed to danger and hardships,
Sand to work for their living; do you think it would have been


better for them to have been bred up gentlemen; that is, to do
nothing, but to have other people wait upon them in every thing?"
-" Why, to be sure," answered Tommy, it was much better for
them that they had been used to work; for that might enable them
to contrive and do something to assist themselves; for, without
doing a great deal, they must certainly all have perished."--

Their first attention was employed, as may easily be ima-
gined, in devising means of providing subsistence and for repairing
their hut. The twelve charges of powder which they had brought
with them, soon procured them as many rein-deer, the island, for-
tunately for them, abounding in these animals. I have before ob-
served, 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 ad-
mitted the air. This inconveniency was, however, easily reme-
died, 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 Spitzbergen : 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 that 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 afterward of
whole trees with their roots, the produce of some more hospitable
(but to them unknown) climate, which the overflowing of rivers,
or other accidents, 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 upon the beach,
having a long iron hook, some nails of about five or six inches




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 reason to apprehend
that they must fall a prey to hunger, as they had nearly consumed
those rein-deer they had killed. This lucky circumstance was at-
tended 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 inven-tion, 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 pro-
cure these at present, they resolved upon making a couple of
lances, to defend themselves against the white bears, by far the
most ferocious of their kind, whose attacks they had great reason
to dread. Finding they could neither make the heads of their
lances nor of their arrows, without the help of a 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, and 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-deer's horns made the tongs. By the
means of such tools, they made two heads of spears; and, after
polishing and sharpening them on stones, they tied them, as fast as
possible, with thongs made of rein-deer skins, to sticks about the
thickness of a man's arms, 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 re-
lished exceedingly, as they thought it much resembled beef in
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 advan-
tages, which will be hereafter mentioned, they were hereby fur-
nished 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 to forge some pieces of iron into heads of arrows of the saint
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 oft tr,
to which, by the help of fine threads of the same, they fastened
feathers of sea-fowl; and thus became possessed of a complete
bow and arrows. Their ingenuity in this respect was crowned
with success far beyond their expectation ; for, during the time of
their continuance upon the island, with these arrows they killed
no less than two hundred and fifty rein-deer, besides a great num-
ber of blue and white foxes. The flesh of these animals served
them also for food, and their skins for clothing, and other neces-
sary preservatives against the intense coldness of a climate so near
the Pole. They killed, however, not more than ten white bears
in all, and that not without the utmost danger; for those 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 shew (if I may be allowed the expression) equal intre-
pidity, 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."

Sure," exclaimed Tommy, such a life as that must have
been miserable and dreadful indeed."-" Why so ?" said Mr. Bar-
low.-Tommy. Because, being always in danger of being devoured
by wild beasts, those men must have been always unhappy.-
Mr. B. And yet they never were devoured.---T. No, sir; because
they made weapons to defend themselves.-Mr. B. Perhaps, then,
a person is not unhappy, merely because he is exposed to danger;
for he may escape from it; but because he does not know how to
defend himself.-T. I do not exactly understand you, sir.--Mr. B.
I will give you an instance. Were you not very unhappy when
the snake coiled itself round your leg, because you imagine it
would bite you ?-T. Yes, sir.-Mr. B. But Harry was not un-
happy.-T. That is very true, sir.--Mr. B. And yet he was more
in danger of being bitten than yourself; because he took hold of


it.-T. Indeed he did.-Mr. B. But he knew that by boldly seiz-
ing it, and flinging it away, he was in very little danger ; had you,
therefore, known the same, you probably would neither have
feared so much, nor have been so unhappy as you were.-T. In-
deed, sir, that is true; and, were such an accident to happen
again, I think I should have courage enough to do the same.-
Mr. B. Should you, then, be as unhappy now, as you were the
first time ?-T. By no means ; because I have a great deal more
courage.-Mr. B. Why, then, persons that have courage are not
so unhappy as those that are cowardly, when they are exposed to
danger ?-T. Certainly not, sir.--Mr. B. And that must be equally
true in every kind of danger?-T. Indeed it must; for I have
sometimes heard my mother shriek out when she was passing in a
coach through a small stream of water, while my father only
laughed at her.-Mr. B. Why then, if she had possessed as much
courage, perhaps she would have laughed too.-T. Indeed I be-
lieve she might; for I have sometimes seen her laugh at herself
when it was over, for being so cowardly.-Mr. B. Why then it is
possible, that when these men found they were so well able to de-
fend themselves against the bears, they might no longer be afraid
,pf them ; and, not being afraid, they would not be unhappy.-T.
Indeed, 1 believe so.-lMr. B. Let us now continue.

The three different kinds of animals above-mentioned, viz. the
rein-deer, 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 ob-
servation 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
Jestitute of both. The intenseness of the cold, together with the
want of proper conveniences, prevented them from cooking their
victuals in a proper manner. There was but one stove in the hut,
and that, being set up agreeably to the Russian taste, was more
like an oven, and, consequently, not well adapted for boiling any
thing. Wood, also, was too precious a commodity to be wasted in
keeping up two fires; and the one they might i,.\e 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 still have been practicable for only some part of the year;
for the coid, which, in such a climate, for some months scarcely
ever abates, from the long absence of the sun, then enlightening
the opposite hemisphere ; the inconceivable quantity of snow which
is continually falling, through the greatest part of the winter;
trt-iher with the almost incessant rains, at certain seasons; all
these were almost insurmountable to that expedient. To remedy,
therefore, in some degree, the hardship of eating their meat half
raw, they bethought 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 pre-
pared, they used for bread, and it made them relish their other flesh
the better, as they could only half-dress it. Finding this expe-
riment 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.
1 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 dif-
ferent 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 unfortunately go out, they had no means of lighting it
again; for though they had a steel and flints, yet they wanted both
inatch 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."
Toitiny. Pray, sir, stop. What! are there countries in the



world where it is night continually for several months together ?--
Mr. Barlow. Indeed there are.--T. How can that be ?--Mr. B.
How happens it that there is night at all ?--T. How happens it!
It must be so: must it not ?--Mr. B. That is only saying that you
do not know the reason. But do you observe no difference here,
between the night and day ?--T. Yes, sir, it is light in the day, and
dark in the night.--Mr. B. And why is it dark in the night.--T.
Really, I do not know.--Mr. B. What does the sun shine every
night?---T. No, sir, certainly.--Mr. B. Then it only shines on
some nights, and not on others ?--T. It never shines at all in the
night.--Mr. B. And does it in the day ?--T. Yes, sir.--Mr. B.
Every day ?--T. Every day, 1 believe ; only sometimes the clouds
prevent you from seeing it.-Mr. B. And what becomes of it in
the night.--T. It goes away, so that we cannot see it.--Mr. B
So, then, when you can see the sun, it is never night --T. No, sir.
--Mr. B. But when the sun goes away, the night comes on.--T.
Yes, sir.--Mr. B. And when the sun comes again, what happens ?
--T. Then it is day again ; for I have seen the day break, and the
sun always rises presently after.--Mr. B. Then if the sun were not
to rise for several months together; what would happen ?--,T. Sure,
it would always remain night, and be dark.--Mr. B. Thatls exactly
the case with the countries we are reading about.

Having therefore fashioned a kind of lamp, they filled it
with rein-deer'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 preventing 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 secu-
rity, 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 pur-
- poses. 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 iuantity 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 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 arri-
val on the island) until that of their embarkation for their native
The necessity of converting the most essential part of their
clothing, such as their shirts and drawers, to the use above speci-
fied, exposed 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
rein-deer and foxes in plenty, that had hitheito served them for bed-
ding, and which they now thought of employing in some more es-
sential service : but the question was how to tan them. After de-
liberating on this subject, they took to the following method: they
soaked the skins for several days in fresh water, till they could
pull off the hair pretty easily ; they then rubbed the wet leather
with their hands till it was nearly dry, when they spread some
melted rein-deer fat over it, and again rubbed it well. By this
process the leather became soft, pliant, and supple, proper for
answering every purpose they wanted it for. Those skins which
they designed for furs, they only soaked for one day, to prepare
them for being wrought ; and then proceeded in the manner before-
mentioned, except only that they did not remove the hair. Thus
they soon provided themselves with the necessary materials for all
the parts of dress they wanted.-But here another difficulty oc-
curred : 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 performed 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,



DY whetting and smoothing it on stones, brought the other to a
point; and thus gave the whole needle a very tolerable tori.
Scissars to cut out the skin were what they next had occasion for;
but, having none, their place they supplied with the knife: and,
though there was neither shoemaker nor tailor amongst them, yet
they had contrived to cut out their leather and furs well enough
for their purpose. The sinews of the bears and the rein-deer, which,
as I mentioned before, they had found means to split, served them
for thread: and, thus provided with the necessary implements,
they proceeded to make their new clothes."

These," said Mr. Barlow, "are the extracts which I have
made from this very extraordinary story ; and they are sufficient to
shew both the many accidents to which men are exposed, and the
wonderful expedients which may be found out, even in the most
dismal circumstances." It is very true, indeed," answered
Tommy ; but pray what became of these poor men at last ?"-
" After they had lived more than six years upon this dreary and
inhospitable coast," answered Mr. Barlow, a ship arrived there
by accident, which took three of them on board, and carried them
in safety to their own country."-" And what became of the fourth ?"
said Tommy.-" He," said Mr. Barlow, "was seized with a dan-
gerous disease, called the scurvy; and, being of an indolent tem-
per, 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 companions."
Here little Harry came in from his father's house, and brought
with him the chicken, which, it has been mentioned, he had saved
from the claws of the kite. The little animal was now perfectly
recovered of the hurt it had received, and shewed so great a de-
gree 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 parti-
cular pains about it; but that, as the poor little creature had been
sad.v hurt, he had fed it every day till it was well ; and that, in
consequence of that kindness, it had conceived a great degree of
affection towards him.
"Indeed," said Tommy, that is very surprising; for I thought
all birds had flown away whenever a man came near them; and


that even the fowls which are kept at home would never let you
touch them."-Mr. B. And what do you imagine is the reason o0
that?-T. Because they are wild.-Mr. B. And what is a fowl's
being wild ?-T. When he will not let you come near him.-Mr. L.
Then a fowl is wild, because he will not let you come near him;
and will not let you come near him, because he is wild. This is
saying nothing more than that when a fowl is wild, he will not let
you approach him. But I want to know what is the reason of his
being wild ?-T. Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because
they are naturally so.-Mr. B. But if they were naturally so, this
fowl could not be fond of Harry.-T. That is because he is so good
to it.-Mr. B. Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal
to run away from a person that is good to him ?-T. No, sir, I
believe not.-Mr. B. 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 not ?-T. Yes.-Mr. B. And then you say that he
is wild, do you not?-T. Yes, sir.-Mr. B. Why then it is pro-
bable that animals are only wild because they are afraid of being
hurt, and that they only run away from the fear of danger. I be-
lieve you would do the same from a lion or a tiger.-T. Indeed I
would, sir.-Mr. B. And yet you do not call yourself a wild ani-
mal ?-Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said, No.-" There-
fore," said Mr.,Barlow, if you want to tame animals, you must
be good to them, and treat them kindly, and then they will no
longer fear you, but come to you and love you."-" Indeed," said
Harry, that is very true : for I 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."-T. And did it not bite him ?-H. No: he sometimes used
to give it a pat with his spoon, if it ate too fast; but it never hurt
Tommy was much pleased with this conversation ; and, being
both good-natured and desirous of making experiments, he deter-
mined 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
shewing his talents: he therefore called, Pig, pig, pig! come
hi her, little pig! But the pig, who did not exactly comprehend




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S his intentions, only grunted, and ran away.--" You little ungrate-
S ful thing," said Tommy, do you treat me in this manner, when
I want to feed you 1 If you do not know your friends, I must
; teach you." Saying this, he sprang at the pig. and caught him
S 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
S. that manner, began struggling and squeaking to that degree, that
the sow, who was within healing, 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, en-
deavouring to escape as speedily as possible, unfortunately ran
between his legs, and threw him down. The place where this ac-
cident happened was extremely wet; therefore, Tommy, in falling,
dirtied himself from head to foot; and the sow, who came up at
that instant, passed over him as he attempted to rise, and rolled
Shim 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
pomelling her with all his might, as she attempted to escape.
The sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such treatment, but
endeavoured with all her force to escape ; but, Tommy still keep-
ing his hold, 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 littereof pigs.
During the heat of this contest, a large flock of geese hap-
pened to be crossing the road, into the midst of which the
affrighted sow ran headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her
heels. The goslings retreated with the greatest precipitation, join-
ing their mournful cackling to the general noise ; but, a gander of
more than common size and courage, resenting the unprovoked
attack which had been made upon his family, flew at Tommy's
hinder parts, 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
S 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
mr about taming animals: I wanted to make then tame and
gentle, and to love me ; and you see the consequences."-" In-
deed," said Mr. Barlow, I see you have been very ill-treated,
but 1 hope you are not hurt ; and, if it is owing to any thing I
have said, I shall feel the more concern."-" No," said Tommy,
1 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 together."
When Tommy had returned, Mr. Barlow asked him how the
accident had happened ? and when he had heard the story, he
said, 1 am very sorry for your misfortune ; but I do not perceive
that 1 was the cause of it: for I do not remember that I ever ad-
visea you to catch pigs by the hinder legs."-Tornmy. 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.-Mr. B. 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, ve y naturally came to his assistance.
All that happened was owing to your inexperience. Before you
meddle with any animal, you should make yourself acquainted
with his nature and disposition ; otherwise, you may fare like the
little boy, that, in attempting to catch flies, was stung by a wasp ;
or like another, that seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it
for an eel, and was bitten by it; which had nearly cost him his
life.-T. But, sir, I thought Harry had mentioned a little boy that
used to feed a snake without receiving any hurt from it.-Mr. B.
That might very well happen; there is scarcely any creature that
will do hurt, unless it is attacked or wants food; and some of
these reptiles are entirely harmless, others not : therefore the best
way is not to meddle with any till you are perfectly acquainted
with its nature. Had you observed this rule you never would
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.-T. Pray, sir, what is this
curious story? But first tell me, if you please, what an Elephant is.





An Elephant," said Mr. Barlow. is the largest land ani-
maj) tat we are acquainted with. It is many times thicker than
an ox, and grows to the height of eleven or twelve feet. jts
strength, as may be easily imagined, is prodigious ; but it is at lie
same time, so very gentle, that it rarely does hurt to any thing.
t even in the woods where it resides. It does not eat flesh, but
S lives upon the fruits and branches of trees. But what is most sin-
gular 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
ee 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, I should
suppose it must be impossible ever to tame him."-" So perhaps
it world," replied MIr. Barlow, did they not instruct those that
have been already tamed to assist in catching others."-T. How is
that, sir?-Mr. B. When they have discovered a forest where
these animals resort, they make a large inclosure with strong pales
and a deep ditch, leaving only one entrance to it, which has a
strong gate left ,pnri .l tely open. They then let one or two of their
tame Elephants loose, who join the wild ones, and gradually en-
tice them into the inclosure. As soon as one of these has entered,
a man who stood ready shuts the gates, and takes him prisoner.
The animal finding himself thus entrapped, begins to grow furious,
and attempts to escape : but immediately two tame ones, of the
largest size and greatest strength, who had been placed there on
purpose, come up to him one on each sid-e, and beat him with their
trunks till le becomes more quiet. A man then comes behind, ties
a veiy 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 tune 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.- 7. And pray, sir, what did the Elephant do to the
Tailor ?- There was," said Mr. Barlow, at Surat, a city where
S many of these Elephants are kept, a Tailor, who used to sit and
woik in his shed, close to the place to which these Elephants were
led every day to drink. This man contracted a kind of acquaint-


ance with one of the largest of these beasts, and used to present
hhn 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 danger-
ous it might prove to provoke an animal of that size and strength,
when the Elephant put his trunk in at the window, as usual, in-
stead of giving him any thing to eat, he pricked him with his
needle. The Elephant instantly withdrew his trunk, and, without
shewing 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 al-
ready 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 ani-
mal, 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 men ever to be cruel to animals, when they are
so affectionate and humane to them."
You are very right," said Mr. Barlow; and I remember
another story of an Elephant, which, if true, is still more extra-
ordinary.-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 ungovernable. It is then dangerous to come near them,
and very difficult to 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 is placed: and the keeper that is used to
manage him sits upon the neck of the Elephant, and guides hnri
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 the keeper was not
in the way, nobody was able to appease him, or dared to come near




him. While, therefore, he was running about in this manner, he
ctnanced to see the wife of his keeper (who had often fed him as
well as her husband), with her young child in her arms, with
which she was n i. te wa's i t.. from his fury. The woman
ran as fast as she was able; but, finding that it was impossible for
her to escape, because these beasts, allshoug so very large, are
able to run very fast, slie re olutelv turned about, and tllrm ing her
child down before the Elephant, thus atcocste him, as if he had
been capable of understanding her : You ung ateful beast, is this
the return u 'ou make for all tile benefits we have bestowed Have
xVe fed you, and taken care of Nou. ty day and tinglit, during so
many years, only that you m ayv a la, t. detstov us allH Crush, then,
this poor innocent child and me, in lretu for the services that mty
husband Ihas done you "- iile she x;s r.,hkil. these passionate
exclauimations, tie Elephlant lppi i,.: h t d thle place ee here e little
infant lay, but, instead of trampling upon him, or iuiting himr, li
stopped short, and looked at him with earnestness, as if lie had
neen sensible of share and confusion; and, his fury from that in-
stant abating, he suffered himself to be led without opposition to his
lTommy thanked Mlr. Barlow for these two stories; and pro-
mised, for the future, to use more discretion in his kindness to
The next day, Tommy and Harry went into the garden to sow
the wheat which I lary had bought with him, upon a bed which
Tommy had dug for that purpose.
\ while they were at work, Tommy said, Pray, Harry, did
you ever hear the story of the men that were loli.tId to live six
years upon that terrible cold cotintry (I foi get the name of it),
v here there is nitliii.. but snow and ice, and scarcely any other
animals but gieat bears, that are i-:idN to eat men up! "- Harrl/.
Yes, I have.-T. And did not the very thoughts of it frighten you
dreadfully !--I. No, I cannot say tley did.- T. VWh, should you
like to live in such a country ?-1 No, certainly; I am very
han p1' that I was b(rn 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 That is true. But should you
not cry, and be very much afflicted, if you were left upon such a
country ?-H. I should certainly be very sorry, if 1 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 endeavour to
help myself.-T. Indeed I think it would : but what could you do?
-H. Why, I would endeavour to build myself a house, if I could
find any materials.--. And what materials is a house made of
I thought it had been impossible to make a house without having a
great many people of different trades, such as carpenters and brick-
layers.-H You know there are houses of different sizes. The
houses that the poor people live in, are very different from your
father's house.-T. Yes, they are little, nasty, dirty, disagreeable
places; I should not like to live in them at all.--l. 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?-T. Yes, certainly. And how would you
make one of them ?-H. 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.-T. And what then?-
H. I would then get some other branches, but 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.-T. Clay what is that ?-H.
It is a particular kind of earth, that sticks to your feet when you
tread upon it, or to your hands when you touch it.--T. I declare
I did not think it had been so easy to make a house. And do you
think that people could really live in such houses ?-H. Certainly
they might, because many persons live in such houses here ; and I
have been told, that in many parts of the world they have not any
other.-T. Really, I should like to try to make a house; do you
think, Harry, that you and I could make one ?--H. Yes, if 1 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 came to call 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 sub-
ject, and begged that he would read it well.-" That I will," said
Tommy for I begin to like reading extremely : and I think that
I am happier too since I learned it; for now I can always divert
myself."-" Indeed," answered Mr. Barlow, most people find
it so. When any one can read, he will not find the knowledge any
burthen to him: and, it is his own fault, if he is not constantly
amused. This is an advantage, Tommy, which a Gentleman, since




you are so fond of the word, may more particularly enjoy, because
he has so much time at his own disposal: and it is much better that
he should distinguish himself by having more knowledge and im-
provement than others, than by fine clothes, or any such trifles,
which any one may have that can purchase them, as well as
Tommy 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, the provision that was to serve him the whole day.
As he was walking along, a poor little half starved dog came up to
him, wagging his tail, and seeming to 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 as if he had not tasted victuals for a fort-
The little Boy then went on a little farther, his dog still rol-
lowing him, and fawning upon him with the greatest gratitude and
affection; when he saw a poor old horse lying upon the ground,
and groaning as if he was very ill: he went up to him, and saw
that he was almost starved, and so weak that he was unable to rise.
I am very much afraid," said the little Boy, if 1 stay to assist
this horse, that it will be dark before I can return; and 1 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 immediately to be so much refreshed, that, after a few
trials, he got vp, 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 o.it of
it, in spite of all his endeavours.--" WXhat is the matter. rood
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 benighted.
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 crutches.-" 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 his 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 he wandered about a great while
without being able to find any path to lead him out. Tired out at
last, and hungry, he felt himself so feeble, that he could go no
farther, but set himself down upon the ground, crying most bit-
terly. In this situation he remained for some time, till at last the
little dog, who had never forsaken 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,
whicn 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
retfreht-' with his meal.-" So," said the little Boy, I see that i
I have given you a breakfast, you have given me a supper ; and a
good turn is never lost, done even to a dog."
lie 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.
HIe was just going to give up all farther attempts in despair, when
he happened 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 btrn
so good to him, will let me get upon his back, and he may bring
me out of the wood, as he is accustomed to feed in this neighbour-
hood."-The little Boy then went up to the horse, speaking to
him and stroking him, and the horse let him mount his ~ack
without opposition ; and then proceeded slowly through the wood
grazing as he went, till he brought him to an opening, which led
to the high road. The little Boy was much rejoiced at this, and
said, If I had not saved this creature's life in the morning, I
should have been obliged to have staid here all night; I see by
this,- that a good turn is never lost."
But the poor little Boy had yet a greater danger to undergo;
for, as he was going along 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 pursued 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 fol-
lowed 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 robbing 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 time enough to help you, if I had not met this honest
blind man, who took me upon his back while I shewed him the
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, I
am vastly pleased with this story, and I think that it may very
likely be true, for I have myself observed, that every thing seems
to love little Harry here, merely because he is good-natured to it.
I was quite surprised to see the great dog, the other day, which I
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 Lion."-" 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 \ on have read a
story about a good-natured boy, Harry shall yli you another,
concerning a. boy of a contrary disposition."
Harry then read the following story of


THlERE 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 instructions or
good example; in consequence of which, this little Boy, who
might otherwise have been happier and better, became ill-natured,
quarrelsome, and disagreeable to every body. 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 quarrelsome, 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
neIihbi u 1hIod.
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 lie
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.
lHe 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 tile 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: "1 am to wait
here all the morning till you and your sheep have passed, I sup-
pose! 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
ramn that had more courage than the rest of the flock : he, 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
T iger over and over, and, butting him several times while he was
down, obliged him to limp howling away.
The ill-natured little Boy, who was not capable of loving any
thing, had been much diverted with the trepidation of the sheep;
but now he laughed heartily at tile 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 himi full upon the temples, and almost knocked
him down. He immediately began to cry, in concert with his dog,
and perceiving a man coming towards them, who he fancied might
be the owner of the sheep, he thought it most prudent to escape as
speedily as possible.
lBut 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
or 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 p-d-
ding to-day, and, besides, my mother will be very angry with
i.e."--" What," said the Boy, you are to have a pudding to-
lay, are you miss "-" Yes," said the girl, and a fine piece of
,oast beef, for there's uncle Will, and uncle John, and grandfather,
aid all my cousins to dine with us ; and we shall be very merry
n1 the evening, I can assure you so pray help me up, as speedily
as possible."--" That I will, miss," said the Boy and, taking un
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 over-
turned 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 grand-
father, and the dear little cousins."
This prank encouraged him very much; for he thought that
now he had certainly escaped without any bad consequences; so
lie went on, applauding his own ingenuity, and came to a green,
here several little boys were at play. He desired leave to play
with them, which they allowed him to do. But he could not be
contented long, without exerting his evil disposition ; so taking an
opportunity when it was his turn to fling the ball, instead of fling-
ing it the way he ought to have done, he threw it into a deep
muddy ditch: the little boys ran in a great hurry to see what \was
become of it; and as they were standing all together upon the brink,
he gave the outermost boy a violent push against his neighbour;
he, not being able to resist the violence, tumbled against the next.
that next against another; by which means they were all soused
into the ditch together. They soon scrambled out, alt-lii li in
a dirty plight, and were going to have punished him for his ill
behaviour; but he patted Tiger upon the back, who began snarl-
ing and growling in such a manner, as made them desist. ThIs
this mischievous little Boy escaped a second time with impunity.
The next thing that he met with was a poor jack-ass 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, setting 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 Le was baying and biting the animal's
neels, received so severe u kick upn r is 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 hap-
pened, and, finding himself hungry, sat down by the way side 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
either in heaven above, or in the earth below; 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 com-
passion, 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 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 dung
that lay by the road side. There," said he, now you are nicely
seated, and I will feed you." 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 tlat had been played him, made a sudden
snap at iis fingers, and getting them between his' teeth, bit them
so severely, that the wicked Boy roared out for mercy, and pro-
mised never more to be guilty of such wickedness. At last, the
blind man, after he had put him to very severe pain, cqtitented to
let him go, saying, as he 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
sutliciently mi erable 1 Although you escape now, be assured,
that if you do not repent and mend your manners, you will meet
witn a severe ,puni tniii-en for your bad behaviour."
One would think, that this punishment should have cured
him cutirely 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 the 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 intended 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 six-
pence, 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 discourse with him, he was afraid of being pursued, and there-
fore ran as fast as he was able over several helds. At last lie came
into a lane which led to a farmer's orchard, and as he was pre-
paring to clamber over the fence, A LARGE DOG SEIZED HIM BY THE
ti.eG, and held him fast. Hie cried out in an agony of terror, which
brought the farmer out, who called he 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, with-
out 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 him 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 pu-
nished 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 lie
had thrown upon his face. It was in vain that he now cried, en-
treated, and begged pardon: the man, who had been mucn hur.


by his fall, thrashed him very severely with his stick, before he
would part with him. Hie now again went on, crying and roaring
with pain, but at least expected to escape without farther 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
powei without his dog, and began persecuting him a thousand va-
rious ways. Some pulled him by the hair, others pinched him;
some whipped his legs with their handkerchiefs, while others co-
vered 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 dis-
agreeable situation, he happened to come up to the same jack-ass
he had seen in the morning, and, making a sudden spring, jumped
upon his back, hoping by these means to escape. The boys imme-
diately 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 but little reason
to rejoice at this escape, for he found it impossible to stop the ani-
mal, and was every instant afraid of being thrown off, and dashed
upon the ground. After he had been thus hurried along a consi-
derable 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 morn-
ing. But she, with the greatest good nature, seeing him in such
a pitiable situation, assisted in bringing him in, and laying him
upon the bed. There this unfortunate Boy had leisure to recollect
himself, and reflect upon his own bad behaviour, which in one day's
time had exposed him to such a variety of misfortunes; and he de-
termined with great sincerity, that, if ever he 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

When the story was ended, Tommy said it was very surpri-
sing to see how differently the two little boys fared.-The one little
boy was gocd-natured ; and therefore every thing he met, became his
friend, and assisted him in return : the other, who was ill-natured,


made every thing his enemy, and therefore he met w ith nothing hut
misfortunes 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 use'l,
That is very true, indeed," said Mr. Barlow, nobody is
oved in this world, unless he loves others and does good to them ,
and nobody can tell but one time or other he may want the assis-
tance of the meanest and lowest. Therefore every sensible man
will behave well to every thing around him : he will behave well,
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. I could shew you a story to that
purpose, but you have read enough, and therefore you must now
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, every thing 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 "-" Surely," answered
Mr. Barlow; "if it is proper for you to have, there is nothing
can give me a greater pleasure than to grant it."-" Why then,"
said Tdmmy, I have been thinking that a man should know how
to do every thing in the world."-Mr. B. Very right: the more
knowledge he acquires, the better.-T. And, therefore, Harry and
I are going to build a house.-ir. B. To build a house ? Vel,
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. B. What are they to be made of,
then ; cards ?-" Dear sir," answered Tommy, do you think \Ne
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.
ii ejer 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."-Mr. B. Ard if no ship should
come, what then?-T. \V hy then we must stay there all our lives,
I am afraid -Mr. B. If you wish to prepare yourselves against
the event, I think you are much in the right; for nobody Knows
vwhat may happen to him in this world. What is it then you want.




to make your house ?--T. The first thing we war.t, sir, ss wood
and a hatchet.-Mr.. B. Wood you shall have in plenty; but did
you ever use a hatchet ?-T. No, sir.-Mr. B. 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, indeed."-And away Harry and he ran to the copse
at the bottom of the garden.
Mr. Barlow then went to work, and presently, by Harry's di-
rection, 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, that in a very short time they had transported them
all to the bottom of the garden; and Tommy entirely forgot lie
was a gentleman, and worked with the greatest eagerness.
Now," said Mr. Barlow, where will you fix your house ?
-i" Here, 1 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 in-
elosed 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 be-
tween the poles, in such a manner as to form a compact kind of
fence.-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
But this employment did not make Tommy unmindful of the
story which Mr. Barlow had piomnsed hun ; it was to this pur-






IT is too much to be lamented, that different nations fre-
quently make bloody wars with each other; and when they take
any of their enemies prisoners, instead of using them well, and
restoring them to liberty, they confine them in prisons, or sell them
as slaves. The enmity that there has often been between many
of the Italian states (particularly the Venetians) and the Turks, is
sufficiently known.
It once happened, that a Venetian ship had taken many of
the Turks prisoners, and, according to the barbarous customs I
have mentioned, 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 about the
age of twelve years. It happened that this little boy used fre-
quently to stop as he passed near Hamet (for that was the name of
the slave), and gaze at him very attentively. Hamet, who re-
marked 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 de-
light in the innocent caresses of his little friend, yet the child
could not help remarking that HAMET WAS FREQUENTLY EXTREME-
LY 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 any thing whicn was not gene-


rous and humane, determined to see the Turk himself, and talk to
Accordingly, he went to him the next day; and observing
him for some time in silence, was struck with the extraordinary ap-
pearance of mildness and honesty which his countenance aisco-
vered. At length, he said to him, Are you that IHamet of whcom
my son is so fond, and of whose gentleness and courtesy I have so
often heard him talk? '-" Yes," said the Turk, I am tnat un-
fortunate Hiamet, 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 of Turks and Christians,
to grant him every blessing he deserves, and to preserve him from
all the miseries I suffer."
Indeed, Hamet," said the Merchant, he is much obliged
to you, although, from his present circumstances, he does not ap-
pear much exposed to danger. But tell me, for I wish to do you
good ; in what can I assist you ? for my son informs me, that you
are the prey of continual regret and sorrow."
Is it wonderful," answered the Turk, with a glow of gene-
rous indignation that suddenly animated his countenance, "is it
wonderful that I should pine in silence, and mourn my fate, who
am bereft of the first and noblest present of nature-my liberty 1"
And yet," answered the Venetian, how many thousands
of our nation do you retain in fetters ?"
I am not answerable," said the Turk, for the cruelty of
my countrymen, more than you are for the barbarity of yours.
But as to myself, I have never practised the inhuman custom of
enslaving my fellow-creatures ; I have never spoiled the Venetian
merchantss of their property to increase my riches: I have always
respected the rights of nature, and therefore it is the more severe."
--Here a tear started from his eye, and wetted his manly cheek:
instantly, however, he recollected himself, and folding his arms
upon his bosom, and gently bowing his tieal, he added, "God is
good; and man must submit to his decrees."
The Venetian was affected with this appearance of manly
fortitude, and said : Harnet, 1 pity your sufferings, and may
perhaps' be ,)le to relieve them. What would you do to regain
your liberty ? -" What would I do 1" 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 such a trial. The means
of your deliverance are certain, provided your courage does not
belie your appearance."-" Name them 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 brave as he is haughty ; and
I must confess that 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 ot
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 your
faithful 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 !-no not to purchase the freedom of all his
race !"
At these words, the Merchant, without seeming much abash-
ed, told him he was sorry he had offended him; but that 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 mind." 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 propo-
sal 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 reasons--"
Christian !" interrupted Hamet, with a severe but com.
posed 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 abo-
minable to the soul of every Mahometan: therefore, from this
moment let us break off all farther intercourse, and be strangers to
each other."
TNo," answered the Merchant, flinging himself into the arms
of 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 in-
terested 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 in Turkish fetters, thy
generosity may make thee think of Venice."
It is impossible to describe the ecstacies or the gratitude of
IHamet at this unexpected deliverance: I will not therefore
attempt to repeat what lie 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 produced his freedom; he em-
braced him with an agony of tenderness, 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 Mlerchant. It was early in the
morning, when sleep is the most profound, and none of the family
perceived it till almost the whole building was involved in flames.
The frighted servants had just time to waken the Merchant and
hurry him down stairs, and the instant he was down, the stair-
case itself gave way, and sunk 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 in an upper apartment, had been neglected in the general
tumult, and was yet amidst the flames. No words can describe
tne lather's agony; he would have rushed headlong into the fire,
but was restrained by his servants ; he then raved 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 an 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 ap-
peared upon the battlements, stretching out his arms, and im-
ploring aid, seemed to be destined to certain destruction.
The unhappy father now lost all perception, and sunk down
in a state of insensibility ;-when, in this dreadful moment of
general suspense and agony, a man rushed through the opening
crowd, mounted the tallest of the ladders with an intrepidity that
shewed he was resolved to succeed or perish, and instantly dis-
appeared. 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 shewn 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, lie'entinii
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, 1 do not sell my blood."
Gracious heavens !" cried the Merchant; sure I should
know that voice !-It is- Yes," exclaimed the son, throw-
ing 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 first the gene-
rosity of the Merchant haa redeemed him from slavery. Nothing




could equal the astonishment and gratitude of Francisco; but as
they were then surrounded by a large concourse of people, he de-
sired Haimet to go with him to the house of one of his friends; and
when they were alone, he embraced him tenderly, and asked by wnat
extraordinary chance he had thus been enslaved a second time ?
adding a kind 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 shewing that I was not altogether
undeserving 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 at-
tracted the notice of your son; and when your unexampled
bounty had set me free, I flew to find the Christian who had pur-
chased 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 Chris-
tian 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 staid here to discharge the debt of nature
and gratitude, a willing slave."-

At this part of the story, Harry, who had with difficulty re-
strained 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 their 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 de-
stroyed all their labours : a violent storm of wind and rain had
risen that morning, which, blowing full against the walls of their
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 be easily repaired, and they
would build it stronger the next time.
Harry then went up to the spot, and after examining it soma
time, told Tommy that he believed he had found out the reason of
their misfortune.-" What is it?" said Tommy.---" Why," said
H 2


lHirry, "it is only because we did not drive these stakes, which
aie to bear the whole weight of our house, far enough into the
ground : and, therefore, when the wind blew against 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 the ground, to lay the foundation fast
and I should think, that, if we drove these stakes a arreat lwy ;"to
the ground, it would ptod it tie stine erect, and we should, hag.
nothing to fear from any future stuoms."
Mr. Barlow then came into the garden: and the two boy:
shewed him their misfortune, and asked him whether he did not
think that driving the stakes farther in would prevent such an ac-
cident for the future ? Mr. Barlow told them he thought it would;
and that, as they were too short to reach to the top of the stakes,
he would assist them. He then went and brought a wooden mal-
let, 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 the r
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 other 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 constructed a house that would com-
plettly screen them from the weather. But in this, unfortunately,
they were again mistaken ; for a very violent shower of rain com-
ing just as they had finished 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 inconveniency; but
it increased so much, that they were soon obliged to yield to 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 that it must be owing to our roof lying so flat: for
I have observed, 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 pe-
netrated quite through."
,They therefore agreed to remedy this defect; and for this pur-
pose they took several poles of an equal length, the one end ot
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 brush-wood 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
.own, and they began to shoot so vigorously, that the blade of the
coin 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," said
he 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 wea-
ther, and we shall soon have some corn for food."-" Yes," an-
swered Harry ; but there are a great many things still wanting
to enaole 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 usea to sow seeds, in order to raise trees; and then they were
carefuliv planted out in beds, till they were big enough to be moved
into the orchard, and produce fruit.-Tommy had often eaten of
tae truit of the orchard, and thought it delicious: and this led him
H 3


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 gar-
den, 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 forth 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 hap-
pened to be hot and dry weather, and they feared their trees might
perish from the 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
excessive 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 overflow its banks; and, as the whole
country is flat, it very soon covers it all with its waters. These wa-
ters remain in this situation several weeks before they have entirely
drained off; and when that happens, they leave the soil so rich,
that every thing that is planted in it, flourishes and produces with
tne greatest abundance."
Is not that the country, sir," said Harry, where that crul
animal, the Crocodile, is found "--" Yes," answered Mr. Barlow.




-- What is that, sir 1" 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 ex-
tremely 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
length, 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 in-
formed, 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 every
thing 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."-T. And does it never
devour men?-Mr. B. 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 pre-
vents him from turning with ease.-T. This must be a very dread-
ful animal to meet with: is it possible for a man to defend himself
against it.-Mr. B. Every thing is possible to those that have cou-
rage and coolness: therefore, many of the inhabitants of those
countries, carry long spears in their hands, in order to defend them-
selves from those animals. The crocodile opens his wide voracious
jaws, in order to devour the man; but the man takes this opportu
nity, 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
eveiilieard, 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, Rnd
sharpened at both ends; to this they tie a long and touga 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 hor-
rid 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," an-
wered Mr, Barlow; I believe, as I have before told you, there is
no animal that may not be rendered mild and inoffensive by good
usage. There are several parts of Egypt where tame crocodiles are
kept: these animals, though of the largest size, never do hurt to
ny thing: but suffer every one to approach them, and even little
children to play about them, and ride securely upon their enormous
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," an-
swered Mr. Barlow, 'will 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
hem, which have been written, you may easily gratify your curi-
It happened about this time, that Tommy and Harry rose early
one morning, and went to take a long walk before breakfast, as they
psed 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,
I* f you will come into my little house, that you see a few yaras




farther on, you may sit more comfortably; 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
invitation: so they both followed her to a small, but clean-looking
farm-house, which stood at a little distance. Here they entered a
very clean kitchen, furnished with plain, but convenient furniture;
and were desired to sit down by a warm arid 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 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 that 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 suppose, 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 meat in 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."
As they were conversing in this manner, Tommy happened to
cast his eyes on one side, arid saw a room that was almost filled
with apples.--" Pray," said he, what can you do with all these
apples? I should think you would never be able to eat them,
though you were to eat nothing else."-" That is very true," said
the woman; "but we make cider of them."'-" What," cried
Tommy, are you able to make that sweet pleasant liquor that
they call cider; and is it made of apples -"-The Woman*. Yes, in-
deed it is.-Tommy. And pray how is it made 1-The Woman. We
take the apples when they are ripe, and squeeze them in a machine


we have for that purpose. Then we take this pulp, and put into
large hair bags, which we press in a great press, till all the juice
runs out.-Tommy. And is this juice cider' -The Woman. You
shall taste, little master, as you seem so curious.
She then led him into another room, where there was a great
tub full of the jice of apples ;and, taking up some in a cup, she
desired him to taste whether it was cider. Tommy tasted, and said
it was very sweet and pleasant, but not cider.--" Well," said the
woman, let -us try another cask."-She then took some liquor
out of another barrel, which she gave him ; and Tommy, when he
had tasted it, said that it really was cider.-" But pray," said he,
what do you do to the apple-juice, to make it into cider?"-The
Woman. Nothing at all.-Ttmmy. How then should it become
cider 1 for I am sure what you gave me at first is not cider.-'The
lWoman. Why, we put the juice into a large cask, and let it
stand in some warm place, where it soon begins to ferment.-
Tommy. Ferment! pray what is that?--The Woman. You shall
She then shewed him another cask, and bade him observe the
liquor that was in it. This he did, and saw it was covered all over
with a thick stum and froth.-Tommy. And is this what you call
fermentation ?-The Woman. Yes, master.-Tominy. And what is
the reason of it ?-The Woman. That I do not knowindeed : but
when we have pressed the juice out, as I told you, we put it into
a cask, and let it stand in some warm place ; and in a short time
it begins to work, or ferment, of itself, as you see: and after this
fermentation has continued some time, it acquires the taste and
properties of cider: and then we draw it off into casks and sell it,
or else keep it for our own use. And I am told this is the manner
in which they make wine in other countries.-Tommy. What, is
wine made of apples then ?-The Woman. No, master; wine is
made of grapes, but they squeeze the juice out, and treat it in the
same manner as we do the juice of the apples.-Tommy. I declare
this is very curious indeed. Then cider is nothing but wine made
of apples ?
While they were conversing in this manner, 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 witn
so good a relish, that he thought he had never made a better break-
fast 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 nevet
been ashamed of it."-" 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 in-
tanity 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 farthing in the world, unless to his landlord; and I know that
lie has almost made up half a year's rent for 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 11 talk with him; in the mean time we must go on with our
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 Gruff."-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 Grufl
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 upon that ac-
count; but you know it is now three years since he went; and in
all that time, we have heard nothing about him."-"* Then," said
the woman, bursting into tears, you and all your poor dear chil-
dren are ruined for my ungrateful brother; for here are two bailiffs
in the house, who are 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 hve 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, consider what you are doing You can do
neither me nor your children any service by this violence; instead
of that, should you be so unfortunate 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 overcome by the sorrows of those he loved so
well, and by his own cooler reflections, he resigned the fatal in-
strument, and sat himself 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 at-
tention, 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 tne 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, I am not the least
tired, I assure you; you have been extremely kind to me, and I



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