Citation
Sandford and Merton in words of one syllable

Material Information

Title:
Sandford and Merton in words of one syllable
Cover title:
Sanford and Merton
Creator:
Aikin, Lucy, 1781-1864
Day, Thomas, 1748-1789
McLoughlin Bros., inc ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
New York
Publisher:
McLoughlin Brother's, Publishers
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
144 p., [6] leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 23 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
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 )
Social interaction -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Country life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Boys -- Education -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Dialogues -- 1890 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1890
Genre:
Dialogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
An adaptation of Thomas Day's History of Sandford and Merton.
General Note:
Date of publication from inscription.
General Note:
Cover title: Sanford [sic] and Merton.
General Note:
Text in double columns.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mary Godolphin ; with colored illustrations.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
027217006 ( ALEPH )
ALK0545 ( NOTIS )
174964989 ( OCLC )

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Full Text




The Baldwin Library

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Tom’s fright at the Snake, and Hal's brave*act.



SANDFORD AND MERTON

LN

VOTES Of ONE Saieh ABs

BY

VE See €1@ BD Ope nial Ne

‘Just at the age ’twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is truth.””
: MARMION.

WITH COLOREL TE EUS TTR dal LH OIN S

INTE, WA NEKO) IK
MCLOUGHLIN BROTHER’S, PUBLISHERS.



Eek Eh A Cl.

THE great popularity of “Sandford and Merton’
among all classes of young readers has induced the
Author to select it for the purpose of translation tnto
easy words of one syllable. But im order to maintain
the tdentity of the book, tt has been thought right to
retain the proper names of Sandford, Merton, and Bar-
low, which form the only exceptions to the rule of
using words of one syllable exclusively. The writer
takes this opportunity of acknowledging the valuable
aid she has recewed im monosyllabic words from the —
Rev. Ft. Datston’s book of “ Brief Thoughts,” by the
kind permission of the Author.







SS NDE ORD AND Nib ik OW



CHAPTER I.

TuerE was a man of
great wealth, whose name
was Merton, and he had a
young son, whom he made
the whole joy and pride
of his heart. This boy
Phedebur toreny ior a thing:
and Mr. and Mrs. Merton
_ would give it to him then
and there. But one night
when the nurse went to
put him to bed, he thought
he should like to have the
moon to play with. Well,
what was to be done? It
was clear that none of them
could give him the moon,

let him cry for it all the
night and all the day.
When they told him it was



too far off for them to reach
it, he fell down flat on the
ground, tore his hair, and
said he would have it. So
Vom (on that was) eins
Hame) eweptyon, Ullerat
length, with a deep sigh
he fell off to sleep.

Tom would eat sweet
things till he was sick, and
when this brought pain, he
could not be made to take
a dose to cure him.

When friends came to
dine at the house, Mr.
Merton would help Tom
frst, and give him the
choice parts of the meat,
lest he should shock the

guests with his cries; and



6 “SANDFORD AND MERTON.



when they sat down to tea,
Tom would not wait, but

would seize hold of the
cake and jam and eat
them.

The least rain gave him
cold. He was kept in
doors when the wind was
in the east; and in a high
wind, let it blow from the
north, south, east, or west,
young Tom was not to stir
out of the house, lest he
should take a chill.

Fle could mot leap)! or
jump, or run, as most boys
do, nor was there a child’s
game that he.could play at;
and Mrs. Merton would
not let him learn to read,
for Tom said it made his
head ache.

A man of the name of
Sandford, who kept a small
farm close to Mr. Merton's
grounds, had a son who



was just Tom’s age, and
his name was Hal.

This boy was brought
up to be much out in the
fields with the men on the
farm, and to drive the cows,
and mind the sheep. He
had a nice frank face, and
you-had but to look at him
to love him. |

While young Hal ate
his meals, if he saw a poor
wretch in want of food, he
was sure to give him half
of his own, if not all of it.
So kind was he, that he
would not rob the bird's
nests of their eggs or young
ones, and he would join in
no kind of sport which gave
pain to poor dumb brutes.

1 It is true that once Hal was

caught with a pin thrust
through a moth, which he
held with a piece of string ;
but he did this from want



¢



of thought, for as soon as
Mrs. Sandford told him
that the moth felt as much
pain, or more, than Hal
woulddo were a knife thrust
through his hand, he drew
the pin out of the moth,
and took it home and kept
it on fresh leaves. From
that time Hal would step
out of the way. if but a
worm were in his path.
He would get green boughs
for the sheep which ran by
his side, and there was not
a horse on the farm that
did not know Hal, and like
to- feel his hand pat and
stroke him while he was at

work. So great was his

love for dumb things, that
toads and frogs, which most
of us kill when we find
them, were quite safe with
Hal, who would say they
had as much right to live



SANDFORD AND MERTON. — b

as we have. Then you
could trust Hal: for the
truth of callitthat le miold
you; for if you were to
say he should have a
plum cake if he would but
tell a lie, yet would he not
tell one.

The way in which Hal
Sandford came to know
Tom Merton was this. One
fine day, Tom took a walk
in the fields with his nurse,
when what should start up
from the high grass but a
large snake, and coil round
Tom’s leg! The nurse ran
with loud shrieks for help,
while Tom did not dare to
stir from the spot where he
stood.

Just then Hal, who was
near, ran up to see the
cause of such cries. But
poor Tom could not speak,
for the sobs came so fast



8 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





All he could do was to put
out his leg to show him the
snake. Hal was brave, and
told Tom not to fear; at
the same time he took hold
of the snake by its neck,
and tore it off from his leg.

Mrs. Merton, who had
heard the cries of the nurse,
came up quite out of breath.
She caught up her dear
boy in her arms to kiss
him, and hear if he was
hurt.

“No,” said Tom, “I am
not; but I think the snake
meant to bite me, and would
have done so, if that boy
had not come to pull him
off from my leg.”

“And who are you, my
dear, to whom we owe so
much ?”

“My name is Sandford,”
eaidetal: ; Our targa is
just at the foot of the hill.”



“Well, my child, you are
a dear, brave boy, and you
must go home and dine
with us. You shall be my
child from this time; will
you 2” |

“If you please, if I may
have my own home too,”
said Hal.

Mrs. Merton sent to the
farm to say where Hal was
to dine, and then led him
by the hand to her own
house, where she found Mr.
Merton, and told him all
that took place in the field.

Hal was now in the midst
of a new scene, and he
could but gaze at Mrs. Mer-
ton, who wore a dress of |
rich silk, such as he had not
seen till now. Then they
took him through the great |
halls, till they came to the
room where they were to
dine. There was a train



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 9



of men to wait on them,
and the board was spread
with food that Hal thought
might teed a whole town.
There was to be seen on
“it all that could tempt the
taste and please the eye.
Mr. Merton said grace, they
~ all sat down, and Mrs. Mer-
ton, who saw Hal's eyes
rest on a gold cup, said—
~ “Should you like to have
such a fine cup of your
own to drink out of, my dear
bovemeliauesmt wis lone
cup, but I am sure he will
be glad to give it to his
kind young friend.”

SOY coumtiace inwillleccaia
Tom; “for you know I
have quite as fine a one,
as well as two large ones.”

flal—* Thank you, with
all my heart; but I will
not take it, for | have one
I like quite as well at home.”



Mrs. Merton. —“ How
so? Do they drink out of
such cups as this at the
farm 2”

Hlal—“‘I don't know

what you call this, but we

drink out of long cups, made

of horn such as the cows
have on their heads; and
they suit us best, for they
do not make us cross.”

Mrs. Merton.—“ Make
you cross, my child. What
do you mean?”

Hal.— Why, when the
man threw down that great
bright thing, which is just
the shape of my cup at
home, [ saw that it made
you look quite pale in the
face. Now, our horn cups
are thrown down by us all,
and no one minds it.”

Mrs. Merton (to Mr. Mer-
ton).—“ Ofa truth, my dear,
I do not know what to



10







make of this boy; he says
such strange things!”

The fact was the man
had let fall a large gold
cup, for which Mrs. Mer-
ton took him to task for his
want of care. Mrs. Mer-

ton then gave Hal a glass of
~ wine, and bade him drink
it off. |

Hal said with thanks that
he did not wish to take it.

“ But, my dear,” said she,
“this is sweet and nice, and
as you are a good boy, you
may drink it up.”

eo Ay! said bal s.“ivet
Mr. Barlow said at church
that we ought not to eat
and drink, save when we
stand in want of meat and
drink and \that’ this) was
what the good men of
old were taught by our
Bord.

Here Mr. Merton drew



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



back in his chair. ‘And
pray, my boy,” said he, “do
you know who these men
were ?” |
Fla/—* Oh, yes, sir, to
be sure I do.” 3
Mr. Merton.—* And who
were they ?”
| Hal—“ Why, sir, there
was a time when men had
grown so bad that they did
not care what they did.
The great folk were proud,
and they ate, drank, and
slept, but took no heed of
the poor. At this time the
poor would not work nor |
be taught; and boys and
girls, and all the world were
as bad as they could be.
And then there came a man
from God, whose name was
Christ, and he took care of
the poor, and went from
place to place to do good,
and cure men of all sorts of



SANDFORD AND MERTON. ; Uy

ills, and eae them what
they ought to feel, and what
they ought to do. And
He chose out twelve men
_to go with Him and do the
same things. These twelve
men did not care what they
ate and drank: for food
they had dry bread, and
they drank from the wells.
They told all whom they
met to love God, and to do
His law; to heal the sick,
feed and clothe the poor,
to wish well to those who

hate them, and toslove all)

men. And so the world
was more kind and good |
through the means of Chee |
our Lord.”

“On my word!” said Mr.
Merton, “this young child
ispquiite: a ecage = Ana, |
should be glad if Mr. Bar-
low would take our Tom to
teach him, for he grows a



great boy, and it is time
for him to learn to read.
What say you, Tom, should
you like to be a sage like
our young friend here ?”

“T dont know what a
sage means; but I should
like to be a Azmg, for he is
so rich and fine, and all
men wait on him and _ fear
him.”

“Well said, my dear!”
quoth Mrs. Merton, as she
tose, to core: hey ehild)ya
kiss. And 7a king you
ought to be! And here's
a. glass of wine for you.
|Should you not like to be
a king, Efall 2"

“T don't know what that
is, said he; “but I hope I
shall soon go to the plough
and work for my own bread,
and then I shall have no
need of men to wait on

”

me.



12 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



“ But should you not like
to be rich, my dear?” said
Mr. Merton.

Ni: sire

“No, you goose?” quoth
Mrs. Merton; “and why
not?” ,

Hal went on—‘“ Well,
there is but one rich man
that (1 know; and: that ais
Squire Chase who lives
hard by, and he rides
through folk’s corn when
he hunts, and breaks down
a hedge here and a gate
there, kills their dogs, lames
their cows, and swears at
the poor; and they say he
does all this for that he is
rich, though they dare not
tell” him’ ?so.to his face:
Oh, I would not have men
hate me as they hate him
for all the world!”

“ But should you not like
to have fine clothes on?”





said Mrs. Merton; “and a
coach to take you from
place to place?”

“ As to that,” quoth Hal,
“there isnot much to choose
in a coat, if it will but keep
you warm; and as for the
coach, if I had one, and
men to mind it, I could not
find work for them, for I
can- walk where I choose.”

Mrs. Merton threw up
her eyes at this speech of
Hal’s, but said no more.

At night Hal went home
to the farm, and Mrs. Sand-
ford kept him up till it was
quite late, to hear what he
had to say of the folk at
the great house.

“They were all kind to
me, said = lal). ouceeel
would quite as soon have >
been at home, for at the
best I had hard work to

get a meal. There was a



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 13



man to take my plate, a
man to give me drink, and
a man to stand by my chair,
just as though I had been
Jame or blind. Then there
was so much to do to put
this dish on, and take that
dish off, that I thought
there would be no end of
it. And I was made to
sit still two whole - hours
to hear Mrs. Merton talk
to me, but not as Mr. Bar-
low does; for she thought
I ought to love fine clothes,
and wish to be a king or a
rich man (and to have all
the folk hate me, as they
do Squire Chase).” While
Hal told all this to Mrs.
Sandford at the farm, at
the great house much of
the talk ran on young Hal.
Mrs. Merton thought him
brave as well as good, but
at the same time she could



not but be struck to see
how much more gross were
the thoughts of the poor
man’s child than those of
the rich.

Mr. Merton did not think
so. He thought that Hal
might put to shame boys
who were in a high rank
of life. “A grace of dress
and a way of the world,”
said he, “a man may soon
pick up; so much so, that
these might be found with
grooms; but the real seat
of good taste must be in
the heart and mind, not in
dress and fine airs.”

| My. dears -caids Win.
Merton, in a grave tone,
to his wife, “I think this
boy of the farm has in his
mind the seeds of a true
and great man. And I
know of no one thing that
would give me more joy



14 SANDFORD AND MEKTON.



than to find that our child
did not. fall short of Hal
Sandford of the Farm
House.”

Mrs. Merton did not
speak, but Mr. Merton
Went On) to saya “Tiss
our fault that Tom has not
been taught to read, and to
_ learn what most boys of
his age know. I have long
seen all this, but have not
as yet told out my thoughts
to you. I must now let you
know that I have made up
my mind to place Tom
with Mr. Barlow, if he will
take him. Iam quite firm
in what I say, and I hope
you see it in the same light
as I do. Young Sandford
is just the age of Tom, and
I should lke our boy to
be brought up with him.
We have been too fond
of him, (if I may so speak),





and have spoilt him. And
I mean to ask Sandford if
he will let me pay to have
his son taught by Mr. Bar-
low for a few years while
Tom is there, if Mr. Bar-
low will take the boys in
hand.” Mr. Merton said
this in so firm a tone, that
his wife, who knew that it
was high time that Tom
should learn to read, at last
made up her mind to part
with her dear boy.

They wrote to ask Mr.
Barlow to dine with them,
that they might know what
he thought of the plan, and
he told them that he would
do his best to teach their
son, but not if he was paid
for it. He said he would
take Tom in his house as
a friend, till he could find
out if those faults which
he saw in him would yield



SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 15



to his will. So, in a short | house, where Hal Hadebecn



time Tom was sent to his | for a week or more.



CrEAT PER 11.

THe next day Mr. Bar-
low took up a spade, and
gave Hal a hoe, that they
might set to work and dig
up the weeds.

“All that eat should
work,” said Mr. Barlow to
Tom. “See here, this is
my bed, and that is Hal's.
We both work at them for
some time each day, and
he that can raise the best
crops will fare the best.
Now, Tom, if you will join
us, | will mark you out a
piece of ground which you
shall have, ana all that
grows on it shall be your
own.”



‘Now says | Tommi
don’t choose to slave like
a boy at the plough.”

“Just as you please,
young sir,” said Mr. Bar-
low; “but Hal and I will
mind our work.”

By and by Mr. Barlow
said it was time to leave off,
and he took Hal by the
hand, led him to a seat,
and brought out a dish of
ripe plums which were
quite fresh from the tree,
with the bloom on them.
and gave one half to Hal,
while he ate the rest. Tom
thought he should have

had his share: but when



16 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

he saw that he was quite
left out, he flew in a great
rage, and burst out with
sobs and cries.

“What do you cry for?”
said Mr. Barlow. >

Tom said not a word.

“Well, sir, if you don't
choose to talk, you need
not do so. No one need
talk in my house if they
do not like it.”

At this speech Tom got
much worse, and went
round the grounds in a
great rage, for he found he
was in a place where no
one tcok pains to please
him.

Mr. Barlow and Hal
then went for a walk in
the fields, and as they came
home Hal saw a kite on
the ground, which had a
young chick in her claws.

The kite flew off when Hal



came up fo it, and left the
chick much hurt, but still
it had life in it.

ook, sity Ssatde ial
“see how he bleeds and
hangs his wings! I will
hold him to my breast to
warm him, and I will: take
him home when | go to
the farm, where he shall
have part of my meals till
he is well.”

As soon as he came
from his walk, Hal's first
care was to put his chick
in a cage with some fresh
turf and some crumbs of
bread, and then Mr. Bar-
low and he went to dine.
In the mean time poor
Tom,’ who was seen to
skulk from place to place,
was glad to find that at
last a meal was_ spread,
and took. his chair to sit
down to it with the rest.





The Squire dragged by nis Horse. and saved by Hal,



SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 17



“Stop, sir,” said Mr.
Barlow; “as you are too
proud to work, we, who
are not, do not choose to
work for you.”

At this speech Tom
wept as if his heart would
break, but more from grief
than rage, for he saw that
no one in the house took
heed of his cries.

But Hal, who could
not bear to see his young
friend in such a state of
woe, said.to Mr. Barlow;
“Pray, sir, may I do as I
please with my share of
the meal?”

“Yes, to be sure you
may, said he.

“Why, then, I will give
it all to Tom, who wants
it more than I do.” So he
gave it to him where he
sat, which was some way
off from the rest.



Tom. took it with thanks,
but he did not lift his eyes
fromm the ground.

‘Sl see,) ssalcd mV we bar
low, “that proud young
boys who will not work,
are not too great to take
the bread from those who
have gone through some
toil to earn it.” This speech
brought fresh tears from
Tom.

The next day, Mr. Bar-
low and Hal went to work
once more; but they had
not been out long, when
Tom came to them to ask
if he might have a hoe too,
Mr. Barlow then gave him
one; but as he did not
know how to use it, he hit
some strokes on his feg
with it. So Mr. Barlow
laid down his own spade,
that he might teach Tom
how to hoe; and in a short ©



£8

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



time he got on well with
it. When the days work
was done, they all three
sat on a bench to eat fruit;
and Tom had his share,
which he ate with great
glee, as he had done some
hard work.

From this time, Mr. Bar-
low and the boys went day
by day to work at their
beds; and as they sat in
the shade to rest from their
toils, Mr. Barlow gave Hal
this tale to read out :—

“A fly and an ant once
came to words as to which
stood first in rank. The
fly said, ‘How can you
place your mean state by
the side of mine? Look
how I soar up in the air,
skip round the head of a
king, and kiss the lips of a
queen !. I toil not, nor stoop
to work; but live a life of



-ease. What can you have

to say to this?’

“Why, quoth the ant,
in a sharp tone, ‘to be
made much of by kings
and queens is a great thing,
I grant, if they send for
you; but not if they deem
youa pest. In good sooth,
I think it is but your small
size that screens you from
their’ wrath; Vand, acm
work, you will learn the
use of it when the frost
and snow come, and the
cold winds blow; while I
shall reap the fruits of my
toil.”

Hal Sandford now went
home for a week or so to
the farm; while Tom Mer-
ton was left with Mr. Bar-
low; and they went on
with their work at the
clumps day by day. When
they sat on the bench to



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 1g



eat their fruit, Tom made
sure that Mr. Barlow would
fead fo him. as’ Hal was
MOmrthete: for as tO) poor
‘Tom, he did not so much
as know how to spell. But
that day Mr. Barlow had
too much to do to read to
him: the same thing took
Place all the rest of the
week. Tom laid this to
heart, for it was a great
source of joy to him to
hear Hal’s tales.

At last the thought struck
him, that if he could but
read like Hal Sandford, he
should not need to ask Mr.
Barlow or Hal to do so
for him. “Why may not
I do what Hal Sandford
has done?” thought Tom.
“To be sure, he is sharp;
but he could not have
read if he had not been
taught I dare say I shall



‘soon learn to read as well

as, he. @hew tigjse thine
when he comes home, |
will ask him to teacn me.’

In ten days time Hal
came back from the farm,
and Tom said to him:

“ How came you to learn
to read?” |

—Flal—* Why, Mr. Bar-
low taught me to spell short
words first, and then to
read them.”

Tom.—‘ Do you think

you could teach me _ to
feag

Hal—‘To be sure I
could.”

-Tom then took up a
book for the first time in
his life, and on that day he
learnt more than most boys
could have done.

Days, weeks, and months
went on, and Tom took so
much pains with his task,



20 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





and was so quick at it, that
he now read out to Mr.
Barlow this tale in short
words :—

“A poor lark was kept
in a cage that hung ona
wall in a town that was full
of dust and dirt. One day
as he stood on his piece of
dead turf to sing out his
sweet song, a finch, who
by chance flew that way,
said: ‘How canst thou
sing so blithe a strain while
shut up in that vile cage?’
‘Finch, finch!’ rang out the
lark, in his clear tones,
‘Know you not that if I
did not sing while I am
shut up here, I should fail
to call to mind my song
when the time came for
me to get free, and mount
up to the sky!”

Mr. Barlow.—“‘So it is

meet for us to sing hymns



of praise while we are on
earth, to fit us for our flight
fo realms of plisse) a\aoul
have done well, my boy, to
learn to read. How glad
am I, for now you will not
find the time creep as it
did, and you will soon get
at all you want to know.”
“Ves” said Tom; “I make
no doubt that I know more
than most men do; and |
am sure, though there are
six black men in our house,
there is not one of them
that can read half as well
as I can.”

Mr. Barlow, whose face
grew grave at this vain
speech, said:

“Pray who has taught
them ?”

“No one that I know of,
sir,” said Tom.

“Then why should you
think it strange that they



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 21

do not know how to read
so well as you?”

Mr. -Barlow went on to
hint to Tom that he would
not have known how to
read, if his friend Hal
Sandford had not taught
him to do so, day by day,
and step by step.

as Why, Tom,” said he,
“this boast of yours is like
the Leap at Rhodes.”

Wop low. far
iaesitn

Mr. Barlow — ‘Well, the
man who made the boast
said it was two score yards.
This man, you must know,
had been in all parts of
the world, and told his
old friends, when he came
home, of the great feats
he had done. These Tales
they at first heard with
great glee, but in time they
found out that what he

Was



said was a mere boast, and
worse than this, that he
told lies, and when he once
did that he set less and
less guard on his tongue,
till he made those who
heard him stare. ‘How
comes it,’ said they, ‘that
this man, who, when at
home, could boast of no
great feats, should, when
he goes to strange lands,
do such great things ?’
One day he told them that
there was no place in the
world where men leapt like
the men at Rhodes. ‘But
Z beat them all,’ said he,
‘for I took a leap there of
two score yards. A grave
old man, who sat near him,
said, with a sneer, ‘Sir, if
your tale be true, think this
place to be Rhodes, and
take the leap once more.
But the man kept his seat,



22 . SANDFORD AND MERTON.

and had not a word more
to say.”

As the time had now
come for the boys to go

out to play, Tom took his)

bat and ball, and the ball
felltintan eld: of corn saat
far from where a poor boy
was at play. “Bring that
ball to me,” said Tom, in
a harsh voice. But the
boy took no heed of this,
but went his way, and left
the ball. Tom now spoke
in a tone still more gruff,
“Do you not hear what I
say?”

Boy.—* Yes, yes; J am
not deaf.”
ZTom.— “Oh, are you

not? then bring me my
ball.”

Boy—*“I don't choose
to.”

Tom.—“ Don't choose
to? If I come to you |



shall soon make you choose
it.”

Boy.—* May be you
may not.”
Lom—‘ If. 1 come on _

that side the hedge, I will
thrash you till I take all
the breath out of you; and
then we will see if ee
choose to or no.’

At this the boy gave a
loud laugh, which put Tom
in such a rage, that he
sprang to the top of the
hedge, from whence he
would have made a jump
so as to bring him in the
field where the boy stood,
but his foot slipt, and he
fell in .a wet ditch which
was full of mud. There
poor Tom lay for some
time, to kick from side to
side, in the vain hope that
he should get free. But

it was of no use, for his



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 23



feet stuck in the mud, or
slid off from the bank, and
' the mire clung to his smart
coat. He first lost his
right shoe, and then his
‘left, and his fine hat too
fell from his head, and was
spoilt by the mud. There
Tom must have lain for
some time, had not the
poor boy in rags come to
his aid. Tom could not
so much as look up at him
for shame, nor could he
say a word, but ran home
~ in such a plight, that Mr.
Barlow, who met him, had
fears that he had been hurt.
But when he heard the tale
from Tom, he could not
keep a smile from his lips,
and told him to look sharp
when next he went to play
at ball that he did not
thrash poor boys in rags.
When Tom had seen to



his dress, Mr. Barlow gave
Hal this tale to read out
to Tom :—

_ “A fine war horse broke
loose from his stall, and
sprang down the road with
a loud, shrill neigh. You
might hear him sniff the
air, as if the ground he
trod on was too poor for
such as he. An ass that
went on the same track,
with a load upon his back,
was told by the horse, in a
proud tone, that if he did
not clear the way for him
he should tread him in the
dust; so the poor ass got
out of his way as fast as
he could, and let him go
by.

“In course of time the
horse went to the war, and
was shot in the eye, which
spoilt his good looks; and
he was now of no use as



24 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



a war horse, so he was sent
to work on a farm.

“Stript of all his pomp,

he was met by the ass,

who said to him, ‘ Hey day,
is it you? Well, I must
say I thought your pride
would, soon or late, have a
fall ,

Hal thought that the
grand war horse must have
had ‘the. look. of a fool
when the ass came up to
him and saw him hard at
work on the farm!

“Yes,” said Mr. Barlow,
“much the same as Tom
did, when the poor lad
whom he meant to beat,
lent him his aid as he lay
in the ditch!”

« Sir,” said Tom, “I should
not have had the least wish
to beat him, but he would
not bring my ball.”

My. Barlow —“ Andwhat



right had you to make him
bring your ball 2”

Tom.— Sir, he was but
a poor boy; and I, you
know, am the son of a rich
man.”

Myr. Barlow. —“‘So, then,
all the sons of rich men
have a right to make all
poor boys do for them
what they choose ?”

Tom.— “To be sure, Site,
if they are in rags.’

Mr. Barlow. — Vhen, fi
your clothes should wear
out, and get worn to rags,
all rich men’s sons have a
right to make you do as
they please?”

Tom hung down his
head, and said: “But he
might as well have done it,
as he was on that side of
the hedge.”

Mr. Barlow.—* And so

I dare say he would have



‘SANDFORD AND MERTON. 25

done, if you had said, ‘1
will thank you to pick up
my ball, in a kind sort of
tone; but when boys speak
in a proud voice, they will
find few to serve them.
Still, I make no doubt that,
as the boy was poor, and
in rags, you took out your
purse to help him on in
the world.” ,

Tom.—“ No, that I am
sure I did not.”

Mr. Barlow—* May be

you had no purse with

you?”

Vo ico had
though; I had all this”
(here Tom took out a
pound).

Mr. Barlow —‘ Was it
that the boy was as rich
as you?”

Tom.— No, that he was
not, sir, I’m sure; for he
had no coat; his clothes



were all torn, and his shoes
were full of holes.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ So now
I see what makes the son
of a man of rank and
wealth; and that is, when
he has all he wants, and
more, and keeps it; when
he beats the poor if they
will not serve him, though
he pay them not for it; and
when they have done him
a great good, does them
no good in his turn.

“Let us not set the poor
at naught, Tom. Make
sure of this: we may be
poor in this world’s goods;
we may have no lands, no
gold, no fine clothes, no
great friends; but if we
have Zove in our hearts, we
have what is best of al]l—
we have what is worth
more than the whole world
with all its wealth.”



26 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





This speech from Mr.
Barlow found its way to
Tom’s heart, and he could
scarce keep the tears from
his eyes. Tom hada large
heart, but he had not been
taught to use it. He made
up his mind to give the
poor boy some new clothes
the first time he should see
him.

Tom did not have to
wait long, for that same
day he met him, and said:

“Boy, I want to know
why you are in rags; have
you no clothes but those
on your back ?”

“No, sir, I have not,’
said the boy. “There are
eight of us, and the rest
are as much in rags as |
am, but I think we should
not so much mind _ that
if we could get more to
eat.”



Lom—‘ And why have
you not more to eat?”

Boy—* Dad is ill, and
can't work, so that we must
all starve if God does not
take care of us.

Tom did not say a word
more, but set off at full
speed to the house, and
soon came back with a
loaf. of bread, and a whole
suit of his own clothes.

“Here, boy,” said Tom,
“you were kind to me, so
I will give you all this, for
I am rich, and-have more.”

The joy that shone out
from the face of the poor
boy made it look as bright
as the deed; and as to
Tom, he felt quite as glad
as the boy did, if not more
so, for it was the first time ©
in his life that he had gone
out of his way to do toa
friend what he would like



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 27





that friend to have done to
him, if he had been in his
place. He did not wait to
hear the poor boy’s thanks,
but went home with a strut,
and found Mr. Barlow at
the door of his house, to
whom he told all that he
had done.

Mr. Barlow said: “You
have done well to give the
boy the clothes, for they
were your own: but what
right had you to give my
loaf of bread 2”

Tom.—“Why, sir, the
boy said he stood much in
need of food, and was one
of eight, and all the rest
OH te

Mr. Barlow. —“ This
made it just and kind in
you to give what was your
own, but not that which
was mine. What should
you say if Hal were to

give some one all your
clothes, and not tell you of
mee

Tom.— | should not like
itvat alla

Mr. Bore We you
think it would be just and
Rights

Tom.—*‘ No, I don't think
it would.”

Mr. Barlow—* 1 do not
grudge the boy my loaf of
bread : far from it, for there
is no one to whom | would
so soon give a loaf of bread
as to that poor boy, who
had it in his heart to do
for you what he would
wish you to have done for
him, were he to lie and
kick in the mud of a ditch;
and this, too, when you
had been so proud to him.
Still, Tom, there is but one
name to give to this act of
yours, and that is the word



28 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





wee lie may vbe- you
have?) ieard that said, ‘He who would steal
an ounce would steal a
pound.’”

Tom.— “1 can't say I
have, nor should I think
it was true.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom of a boy who stole a
horn book from school, and
brought it home to his
aunt; yet she did not take
him to task for what he
had done, but gave him
some plums for his pains.
In course of time the child
grew up to be a man, and
need I say a thief? He
stole more and more, and
atx last was) caugntiin a2
great theft, for which he
was hung. A crowd came
to look on at the sad scene,
and with them the aunt of
the thief, who, with sobs





and tears, tore her hair and
beat her breast. The thief
saw her, and said to those
who were in charge of him,
“Give me leave to say a
word to my aunt.” When
she came up, he put his
face to hers as if he would
speak—and bit off her ear!
At this the aunt gave a
loud cry, and all who stood

near were struck with awe
at so base a deed. “Good
sirs, said the young man,
“it is she who is the cause
of my guilt; for if when
I stole a horn book from
school she had had the
sense to point out to me
that I had done wrong, |
should not have come to
this end.” °

“So you see,” said Mr.
Barlow, “if we do not
crush sin in the bud, it will
grow strong and crush us.’



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 2g

Just then a boy in rags
came up to Tom with some
clothes in his hand. His
eyes were black, as if he
. had had a fight.

“Here, sir, take back
your clothes,” said he; “and
I wish they had been left
in the ditch I took you out
of, and not been put on my
back. You will catch me
no more with such fine
things on, as long as I live.”

“What does all this

mean?” said Mr. Barlow
to the poor boy.

Sir salda tie.
Merton did all he could

to beat me when I would
not fetch his ball, but he
fell in the ditch, and then,
as | took him out, he gave
‘me these clothes here, all
out of good will I know.
But the worst of it is, I
was such a fool as to wear



them, and this made all
the boys hoot at me as |
went down the road. Jack
Sparkes was the first to
give me a blow. ‘Oh,’
says J) jare you) am that
sort of work?’ So I gave
him a punch in the ribs
which made him roar.
Then came up Bill Miles
and Jim Stubbs, and they
said I was ‘French;’ but I
don't choose them to call
me ‘French,’ and I don't
want the clothes, so I have
brought them back.”

Then Tom, who had not
said a word all this time,
spoke to the boy thus :—

le amiecure you mane
much hurt, for there is
blood on your dress, and
as for the clothes I gave
you, I grieve much to hear
that they should have done
you all this harm.”



30 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



As soon as the poor boy
had gone, Hal. and Tom
made a plan to buy some
clothes for him that would
suit his tank or life, So
the next day, at dawn, off
they set. ,

They had not. gone far
when they heard the noise
of a pack of hounds which
ran full cry some way. off.

“ What does it all mean?”
said Tom.

Hlal—* 1 know too well
what it means.) It, is the
squire and his dogs in
chase of a poor hare. As
I live, there she skulks,
poor wretch! I hope they
will not find her. If they
ask me, I will not tell them
which way she has gone.”

Soon the dogs came up,
and a man ona fine horse
said:

“Have youseenthe hare?”



Hal did not speak, so
the squire said once more,
in a loud tone:

“Which way has she
gone’:

Sir, lb) challa mot) tell
you, said Hal.

“Not tell me! sard@the
grand man, who then came ~
up to Hal to lash him with
his whip. “Nowe, sole:
young thief you, will you
tell me now?”

To which Hal said:

“Tf I would not tell you
then, I won't now, though
you should kill me.”

But the squire went on
like a brute with his lash,
cil ar loud? cay corm nels
help!” from Tom brought
a friend of the squire’s to
the spot at full speed, who
Salida

“For God's sake, Chase,
leave off! What are you



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 31







at? You will kill-the child
if you do not take care.”

“Tt will serve the young
dog right if I do,” said he,
‘for he has seen the hare,
and will not tell me which
way she ran.”

lalce weane. isaic lrs
friend, in a low voice; “I
know the child who is with
him is the son of a rich
man, who lives not far
off.”

Then he said to Hal:

“Why, my dear, would
you not tell the squire
which way the hare had
gone, if you saw her?”

Hal, who had scarce got
breath to speak, said:

“JT don't choose to let
the man kill the hare if I
cain inelp it

The squires friend said:

“This boy is quite a
sage, and it 1s a good thing



for you (that shewisybut a
child; though the growth
of his mind, and thestrength
of his will might shame a
man. But tell me, Chase,
aie you, ati alli! timesmco
fierce as this with the
poor?”

Just then the hounds
found the scent, and burst
out ine tulle cuy so) the
squire got on his horse,
and rode off with the rest.
When they were gone,
Tom came up to ask Hal
how he did, and flung his
arms round his neck.

“T feel sore,” said Hal,
“but that will go off soon.”

Zom.—‘ I wish I had had
a gun or a sword.”

Hal. Why, what would
you have done with it?”

Tom.—‘“1 would have
shot the wretch, of course,

or cut off his head. He



32 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

isa brute that he is, ito
beat you so.”

Hal—‘lf I had been a
man, he should not have
done it. I don’t think he
meant to kill me. But it is
all past now; and we ought
to try to love those that
hate us: hate the deed we
may, but not the man—as
Mr. Barlow says our Lord
Christ did. And then,

may be, the squire may



come to love me, and grieve
at what he has done.”

Tom— But how could
you bear the whip all that
time, and not cry out?”

Hal—‘ Why, to cry out
would do no good in such
a case as that, would it?
And I think you would
say this is not much, if you
knew what some boys have
to bear, and yet do not
flinch at it.”



CHAPTER Tif

THe next day, when the
boys went to their books,
their thoughts were so full
of the hunt, that Hal chose
this tale to read out :—

“A stag, that had lett
the hounds some way off,
came up to a man -who



was at work on a farm, to
ask if he would show him
some safe place to hide in.
The man bade him hide in
his own hut, which was
close by. So the stag lay
there quite still, and in a
short time up came the



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 33



squire and his train with| stole from the hut, but said

the hounds. The squire,
who caught sight of the
boor, drew back from the
wrest, and said: ‘Have you
seen the stag pass this
way?

““No,’ said the boor, in
a loud tone, ‘I have not.’

“At the same time—as
he had a wish to keep on
good terms with the squire
—he held out his hand
with a sly look, to point to
the hut where the stag lay;
but, as luck would have it,
the squire took no heed of
this sign, nor did he so
much as see it. Soon he
went to join the rest; but
though they rode through
the field where the hut
was, they did not see the
stag.

“As soon as they were
quite out of sight, the stag





not a word to the boor,
who now gave a loud call
to him.

““Wretch !’ said he, ‘you
owe your life to me; yet
when you leave my hut,
where I sent you to screen
you from your foes, you say
not one word of thanks!’

‘CO Nay, said tie, Stag,
‘you may make sure I
should fill your ears as full
of praise as my heart is
of joy, if your deeds had
been true to your words;
in esShont, ial hads Eno
through the door of the
hut, seen your hand play
false to your songue. ”

The boys then went to
the shop, and Tom laid
out a pound in clothes for
the poor boy, and said to
Hal: .“ You must take
them there, you know.”



34 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



“Phat J willt said’ Elal-
“but why will you not
take them ?” oy

Tom.—* Well it is not
for the child of a rich
squire to take such a load
as thats

Flal—“ Why, what harm
does’ it: “do, if he has
strength for it?”

fom: —“* 1) dont’ know :
but I think it is that he
may not look like the. poor
boys in the road.”

Flal—* Then he should
not have hands, feet, eyes,
ears, or mouth; for poor
boys have the same.”

Tom. —‘*“ No—no, he
must have all these, for
they are of use to him.”

Hlal—* And is it not of
use to do things for one's
self?”

Tom.—“Yes; but the

sons of the rich have all



these things done for
them.” |
ffal— Then I should
think it must be a bad
thing to be one of them.”

Lom.—* Why so?”

Flal—‘ Well, if all were
rich, things would not be
done: and then we should
all starve,”

Zom.—“ Starve.”

flal.—“ Yes: why, you
could not live, could you,
if you could not get bread?”

Tom.— “No, I -know
that.”

Flal— Bread, you know, |
is made from a plant that
grows in the earth, and we
call it wheat.”

Tom.—“ Why, then, I
would pick it and eat it.”

_Hal—* Then you would
have to work, you see.
But that would do no good,
for wheat is a hard grain,



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 35

and you would not like to
eat it.”

Tom.—“ No; but how
comes bread, then 2”
Hal-—“ Corn is sent to
a mill.”

Tom.—“I1 should like
to see a mill, that I may
know how they make
bread.”

Hal.—“ There is one
close by, and if you ask
M. Barlow he will go with
you, for he knows the man
who works it.”

Tom.—* Well, I will, for
I should much like to see
them make bread.”

Just then the two boys
heard acry, and they saw
a horse come down the
lane at full speed, and drag
a man with him:

Hal, who at all times
was glad to doa kind act,







hedge, which he saw the
horse meant to go through,
and just as the horse made
a stop that he might take
a good leap, Hal caught
hold of his head.

Two or three men soon
came up, and set Squire
Chase on his legs—for the |
squire it was. He gavea
wild stare round him, and
took breath; the farst use
he made of it was to swear
at the horse, and to ask
who it was that laid hold
of his head.

“Who ?” said his friend ;
“why, the self same boy
that you gave all those
blows to; and had it not
been for him, that skull
of yours would have had
more flaws in it than it has
now.”

The squire gave a glance

ran up to a gap in the;at Hal, with a face full of



36 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



shame. At length he put
his hand in his purse, and
gave him a pound. But
Hal drew up with a look
of pride (which was rare
with him), and would not
take it.

So the boys went their
way, and in a short time
they found the poor lad,
whose cot they were in
search of. Tom told him
that they had brought him
a suit of clothes, in which
there could be no fear that
the boys would call him
“rench. Ele then gave
all the young boys a suit
each, and the thanks from
the poor folk for his kind
gifts made Tom so full of
joy that he said, as he went
home, that he would take
care to spend all that Mr.
and Mrs. Merton gave
him in the same way.



In the space of a fo
days, Mr. Barlow took the
two boys to the mill, and
they saw all parts of it.
Tom was struck with the
great sails, which went
round and round with the
wind, and were made tc
move two large flat stone:
to bruise the corn.

“Well, to be sure! So
this is the way they make
bread.”

“Yes,” said Mr.- Barlow,
“but there is more to b.
done than this.”

As they went home, Ha_
said to Tom :—-

“So you sée, now, thai
if no men chose to work,
we should have no bread
fo «eat:

Tom. — “ Why
Does not corn grow
the ground ?”

Hlal.—“ Corn grows im

not!
iW!



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 37

the ground, but then first

you must plough the ground
to break it up.”

Tom.—“ How do they
plough 2”
_ Ffal.—“ Have you not
seen a plough drawn up
and down the fields in a
straight line? One man
drives, and one holds the

plough, and_ the . horse
pulls.”
Tom. —
Is that the way they break
up the ground for the
Comins |. |

Hal—* It is; and there's
a sharp kind of wedge
which turns the ground up
all the way as it goes.”

Tom.—* Well, and what
then?”

Hal—* Why, they sow
the seed in the ground, and
rake it, and then the seed
grows, and shoots up high,

and at last the corn gets

tt



ripe, and then they reap

lom.—“ How . strange,
to be sure! - I should like
to sow some seed, and see
it grow. Do you think I
could ?” :

Flal.—“ Yes, of course
you could; and if you will
dig the ground, I will go
to our farm and get you
some corn to sow.”

The next day Tom was
up with the lark, and went
to work and dug the ground
for some hours. He must
needs tell Mr. Barlow what
he had done, and said:
“Am I not a good boy
to work so hard to raise
corn?” :

Mr. Barlow.—“ That I
do not know till I hear
what use you will make of
it.”



38 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Tom—‘ Why, sir, I shall
send it to the mill and
have it ground, and then I
will get your cook to show
me how to make bread of
it; and then I will eat it,
and tell my nurse that I
ate bread out of corn that
I have sown in my own
piece of ground.”

Mr. Barlow. —* That will
be well done, but where
will be the great good for
you to sow corn for your
own self? That is no more
than all the folk round do;
_and were they not to do it
they would starve.”

Tom.—“ But then they
are not all rich men’s sons
like me.”

Mr. Barlow. —‘“ What
then? Must not the sons
of the rich eat as well as
the poor? And it is for
their own good that they



should know how to get

food.”

ZTom.— “Yes, sir; but
they can have the poor to
raise it for them, so that
they need not work at all.”

Mr. Barlow— How 1s
that ?”

Tom— Why, sir, they
pay the poor to work for
them, or buy bread of them
when it 1s made, as much
as they want.”

Mr. Barlow —“ Oh, Mr.
Tom; but what if the rich
man should lose all his
wealth, or go to strange
lands where hands are
scarce?”

Tom.—* Well, true, sir,
he ought to know how to
make it in case these things
should come to pass.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom of an old man who

had a field, and by his skil



SANDFORD AND MERTON. “39.

and care made it serve him
for food. At length he fell
ill, and he sent for his three
sons, that he might take
leave of them, and give
them his last charge. “ My
sons,’ said he, “ there is one
thing which with my last
_ breath I beg of you to do,
and that is to seek out a
rich gift which I have left
you, and which you will
find in my field”—but here
the poor old man’s voice
grew faint, and his head
sank down on his breast in
death. The sons were in
too much grief for their
loss to put in force that
which the old man had
bade them do, till want
drove them to seek in the
field for what they thought
must be a hoard of gold.
So they made a search in
it from end to end, till there



was not a clod that they
did not turn. At last they
gave it up.

“It is strange that the old
man should have set us on
this long search for a thing
that is not here,” said Jack.

“Come, said 1) Dick.
“since we have gone
through so much toil on
the field, we may as well
sow it with corn, and so
make the most of our
pains.”

At this bright thought
they set to work to sow
the grain; and in due time
a crop sprang up, five times
as large as those crops
which had grown there in
the old man’s life time.

The youths now = said
that ¢4zs must have been
the wealth the old man
meant, and that his wish
was that they should earn



"40 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

their bread by the sweat
of their brow.

Hal now came in from
the farm, where he had
been for a short time, and
brought with him the chick
which he took from the
claws of a kite, and which
had now got quite well,
and was so fond of Hal
that it ran by his side like
a dog, would perch on his
arm, sit in the breast of
his coat, and eat crumbs
out of his hand.

“How did you make it

so tame?” said Tom. ,

] lal ‘told’ him’ that he
took no pains to do so, but
that as the poor bird had
been so much hurt, he had
fed it at the farm house
from his own hand, and it
was that that made it so
tame.

Well) Hoa oddiiomke





sure | said) home coll
thought all birds flew off
when a man came near
them. ‘The fowls that are
kept at our place will not
let me touch them.”

Mr. Barlow.—‘ Why is
that, Tom ?”

Lom.—“ Well, they are
wild.”

Mr. Barlow—* And what
do you mean by the word
wild 2?”

Lom.—* When they will
not ‘let. you come near.
them.” i

Mr. Barlow.—‘ Then it
comes to this, does it? A
bird is wild when he will
not let you come near him,
and he will not let you
come near him when he is
wild. But I want you to |
tell me why he is wild.”

Tom.—* That I can’t say.

”

sir.



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 4)



Mr. Barlow.—* Birdsand
beasts would not be wild if
they did not /ear us, and
if we are kind to them
they get tame. I think if
‘a large beast of prey were
to come up to you, you
would not run from him.”

Tom.— “Should I not,
im strut Ahi tas fast as
my feet would take me.’

— Mr. Barlow —* And yet
you do not think that you
rank with the wild men?”

Tom gave a loud laugh
at this; and Hal then told
him that he knew a boy
who had a tame snake, and
when he ate his bread and
milk in the shade of a tree,
he would call the snake up
to him to drink out of his
bowl. |

Tom.—‘ And did it not
bite him ?”

Hal-—“No. He gave





him a pat now and then
with his spoon if he ate too
fast; but the boy had no
fear that he would bite
him.”

From that hour did Tom
make up his mind that he
would tame some pet. So
off he set at once, with a
large slice of bread in his
hand, in search of a young
bird of beast to pet of
bring up tame; and the
first thing he met was a
young pig, that lay in the
sun to bask. So Tom put
on a soft smile, to look
kind, and said, “ Pig, pig,
my dear pig, here is some
bread for you; come to
me, come!” But as the
young pig could not quite
judge of what Tom's views
were, it gave a squeak and
ran off to the old sow.

“You young wretch,”



Said: flom.... to. mune on
when I want to feed and
pet you; if you do not
know your best friend, |
must teach you. | So) he
sprang at the pig and
caught it by the leg with
his right hand, and held
out the large slice of bread
with the left. But still the
young pig knew not what
to make of it, and the
squeaks it gave were so
shrill and loud that they
soon brought the old sow
to the spot, with all the
rest of the young pigs at
her heels.

Tom held the sow in
too much fear to keep her
young one
while she was near, so he
let it go, and it ran just in
front of Tom, which threw
him down. Then the sow
came up, and trod on him

42 : SANDFORD AND MERTON.

might,

in his arms.





So there poor
Tom lay in the mud and
dint) lit, was) Lomis turn
now to be ina rage, so he
took the old sow by the leg.
and beat her with all his
At this, she and all.
the young pigs sent forth
grunts and squeaks that
rent the air- The old sow
led Tom through the midst
of a large flock of geese
that by chance fed near
the spot where all this took
place. You who read this,
may guess how a flock of
geese would add to the
noise; but worse than all,
the old goose, to save her
brood, gave Tom a sharp
peck with her bill, which
put him to so much pain
that his shrieks now fell in
with the shrill sounds all.
round him, and this brought
Mr. Barlow to the spot.

in her rage.



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 43



pele days) eaidy ie
vines all Mths 24

Tom, as soon as he could
speak, told Mr. Barlow
uate ewes al) his fault
and that he might trace it
to what he had told him.

“To what I have told
you?” quoth Mr. Barlow.

Tom. —“ You said, sir,
that to tame a bird or beast
I ought to give him food,
and be kind to him, and
now all this comes of it.”

Mr. Barlow.—“1 see
you have been in the mud,
but I hope you are not
hurt, and if it is from what
I may have said, I shall
- grieve all the more.”

lom.— “No, I am not
much hurt.”
Mr. Barlow. —“ Well,

then, now we will come
home, that you may wash

talk of what you did with
the pigs and the geese by
and by.”

When Tom came down
from his room, Mr. Barlow
said: “ My dear boy, what
could be the cause of the
sad plight I found you in?
J] am sure | hope that 1
was not the cause of it;
but | dent *think= that I
told you to catch pigs by
the hind legs.”

Jon —- SNoe sir” put
you said that to feed wild
things was the way to

make them love me, and
that then I could tame
them, and so I went to
feed the pig with a slice
of bread.”

Mr. Barlow.— But it
was not my fault that you
did it the wrong way.
The pig did not know

off the mud, and we will} what you meant, and so



44

SANDROFD AND MERTON.



when you went to seize
hold of him, he did all he
could to get free, and the
old sow who heard the
cries of her young one
came to. help him.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom that, in days long gone
by, a Greek slave wrote
a tale to prove that it is
not wise to play with edge
tools, as Tom had just
done. But this slave did
not take “a boy, a sow,
and her young one” to set
forth this truth, but he took
“a wolf and a crane,” and
this was the tale: “A wolf
had a bone that stuck in
his throat, and gave him

so much pain that he ran

with a howl up and down,
to ask all whom he met to
lend him a kind hand, and
said he would give a large
sum to bird or beast who



would take it out. At last
a crane, who had heard of
the bribe, came up, put
her long bill down the
wolf's throat, and drew out
the bone. The crane then
said, ‘Now, where is the
fee which you spoke of?’
‘Wretch, that you are!’ said
the wolf, ‘to ask for more
than this—when you have
put your head in a wolf's
mouth, and brought it safe
Out!

As Tom had cause to
know what the sound of a
squeak of a pig was, to
cheer him up Mr. Barlow
then told him of a man
who said he could show a
trick; so he stood on a
stage, when all at once he
thrust down his head, and
gave out a sound like the
squeak of a pig. This he
did so well that all thought



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 48



he had brought a young
pig in his cloak; but though
a search was made, they
did not find one.

A rough man from a
farm, who had come to
look on, said, “Faith, I
can do this as well as he.”
So the next night they
were both to try their skill.
A. great crowd came. to see
them, and the men went
the stage. One of them
gave his squeak like a pig,
which brought a shout of
praise, as it had done the
first night. The boor's
turn then came, and he
did hide a young pig in his
cloak, but though he made
it squeak by a hard pinch
on the ear, all gave the
palm to the first man, and
they sent the boor off the
stage with a loud hiss.

Hal and Tom now told





Mr. Barlow that they meant
to build a house.

Mr. Barlow.— To build
a house? And have you
got a stock of bricks and
lime?”

Zom. —‘‘ No, no, Hal
and I can build a house
that will not want bricks
or lime.”

Mr. Barlow. —* What,
is it to be made of cards
then 2”

Tom.—“ Dear sir! do
you think me such a child
as to wish for a card house?
No, we mean to build one
fit to live in. You said we
ought to know how to do
all things, lest we should
get poor, or be cast on some
wild part of the earth where
there are no men to work
for us; in that case you see,
sir, we could build our own
house.”



46

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



Mr. Barlow. — “ What
is it to be built with, then,
our

Tom. —‘ The first things
we shall want -are wood
and: al axe.’

Mr. Barlow.-—““ Wood |
can give you, and loads of
it, but do you know how
tO tise an axe?’

Tom.—“ No, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. — “Then I
fear to let you have one, as
you might get much hurt
by it. But if you tell me
what wood you want I will
cut down the trees for you.”

Tom. —“ Thank you,
thank you.”

Mr. Barlow then went to

work, and cut down poles’

as thick as a man’s wrist,
eight feetlong, which the
boys made sharp at the
end to force them in the
ground; and so mad was





Tom to build a house, that
he had quite lost sight of
the fact that he was “the
son of a rich squire,” and
went on with the work with
all his might.

Mr. Barlow.—“ Where
shall you place your house?”

Tom.—‘ This will be the
spot for it, just at the foot |
of this hill, for here we
shall be warm and snug.”

Hal took the stakes, and
drove them in the earth,
and made the house ten
feet long and eight feet
wide. When this was
done, he and Tom took
the small sticks of wood
which they had cut from
the stakes, and wove them
in with the poles, so.as to
form a sort of fence; and
this took them some days
foo. 2 |

To give them heart while



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 47

they went on with this slow
work, and to show them
that if we want to make
sure that a thing is done,
we must work at it with
our owz hands. Mr. Bar-
low told them the tale of a
lane thaty had a mest of
young birds in a field of
corn, and one day two men
came to look at the state
of the crop. “ Well,” says
one of them to his son, “ I
think this wheat is ripe, so
now go and ask our friends
to help us to reap it.”
When the old lark came
back to her nest, the young
brood told her in a great
fright what they had heard.
“So they look to their
friends for help,” said she.
“Well, I think we have no
cause for fear.” ey
The next day the man



came; and as he saw no
friends in the corn field, he
bade his son fetch his kith
and kin to help him.

This the young birds
heard, and told it to the
old one when she came
home to her nest.

“Pear not) cquothecher
“TI do not see that men go
much out of their way to
help those that are of the
same kith and kin.”

In the course of a day
or two, as the man found
that no one came, he said
to his son, “ Hark ye, John!
we will trust to none; but
you and I will reap the
corn at dawn of day.”

“ Now,” said the old lark,
“we must be gone; tor
when a man takes his work
in his own hands, it is sure
to be done.”



j %

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

CHAPTER IV.

Wuen Hal and Tom
went back to their work
they found, to their great
grief, that while they were
in doors, a storm of wind
and rain had blown down
their new house.

“So this is the end of
all@vour = toils said) dom
with his eyes full of tears.
When Hal went to look at
the stakes that the wind
had blown down, he found
that the cause of it all was
that they did not go so
deep in the ground as they
should have done; so that
when the wind blew on the
flat side of the wall, they
had not strength to bear it;
but Mr. Barlow struck the
tops of the stakes (which
the boys could not reach),

and drove them in so firm ~
that, let the wind blow as
hard as it might, they
would be quite safe.

The next thing to be
done was to put a roof on
—for till now, their house
had none; so they put long
poles to rest on the tops of
the four walls, and on these
they laid straw; and they
thought now that the house
would be snug and dry.

By and by the rain came
down hard on it, and the
boys were proud to think
how dry and warm it kept
them: but at last, the straw
that was on the top got
wet through; for as their
roof was flat, there was no
way for the rain to run off.
At last they could stand it





Hal and Tom resi by the Fire in the poor Dame’s Cot.



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

no more, and went in doors
to talk of what they should
do. |

“The top should have
more straw,’ said “Tom.

“INio said lal ““that’s
not it; it must be that our
roof is too flat; for you
know all roofs slant, that
the rain may run off from
them.” |

The next day they set to
work at a new roof, with
straw for a thatch; and that
the wind should not blow
it off, they stuck bits of
stick from peg to peg, to
keep it in its place.

When this was done,
they found that the walls,
which were made of twigs,
did not keep the wind out;
so to cure this, they put
wet clay on each side of
them.

“Well,” said Mr. Barlow, |



49

“you have been as much
put to it to know what to
do, as the bees were when
they made a wax tomb for
their guest.”

Tom.— “What bees were
those, sir.”

Mr. Barlow —“\ did not
see the hive, but this took
place sin-= teal lite, Uite

|guest I speak of was a

snail, that made his way
through the hole of a hive
which was full of bees,
where in a great rage they
flew round him and stung
him to death. But soon
they found that the snail,
when dead, was all the
more a foe than when he
had life, for the air in the
hive was not fit to breathe. -
What was to be done?
He was of too great a bulk
for the bees to turn him
out, so they had to leave



50 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



the hive, and they found to
their cost that they ought
to have let the poor snail
just crawl out as he had
come in.

“The bees made a long
search for a new home, but
in vain; so they went back
to their old hive, to see
what could be done with
the dead snail; and in the
end, they all set to work to
build a case of wax round
him, so as to close him in a
sort of tomb, and thus they
made the air of the hive
as sweet as the stores that
were in the combs.”

Tom’s wheat, which he
had been to watch day by
day, had now sprung up;
and when he saw the green
blade, he said, “Now, I
think we could live if we
were cast on some lone
isle where there were no





men to be found to work
for us. Here's a house to
screen us from the sun and
rain, and we _ shall soon
have corn for food.”

Tom thought that it
would add much to the ©
charms of their house if it
had some plum and pear
trees near it, to screen it
from the hot sun, and yield
fruit; so Mr. Barlow sent
Tom to make choice of
two fine strong ones. The
boys took their spades to
dig large holes to put them
in, and broke the earth up
that it might he light on
the roots, and then put
them in. Tom held the
tree while Hal threw the
earth on the roots, and
trod it down with his feet.
Then they stuck large
stakes in the ground, to

tie the trees to, for fear a



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 1



high wind should blow
them down.

At the side of the hill
there was a brook, that
burst forth not far from the
spot where the new house
Stood.) ltunan down in a
small stream, and the boys
set hard to work for some
days to form asort of ditch
to bring the stream down
to the roots of the trees,
for ther aim owas hot and
the ground dry, and they
thought their trees. might
die for want of rain.

“On the bank of just
such a brook as this, and
on the side of just such a
hill, did the poor lamb meet
the wolf,” said Hal.

“What lamb, and what
Ole nsaidilom: <“Do
tell me!”

“Well,” said Hal, “last
night I read of a wolf who







went to quench his thirst
aba Clear brook tat tan
down a hill, and by chance
a young lamb stood there
who would stray from the
flock» The (wolf had) a
wish to eat her, but felt
some qualms; so fora plea,
he made out that the lamb
was his foe. “Stand off
from the bank, sir,’ said he,
‘for you tread it down,
which makes the stream
thick, and all I can get to

drink is foul.’

“The lamb said, in a
mild tone, that she did not
see how that could be, for
the brook ran down hill to
her from the spot where he
stood.

“<«But, said the wolf,
‘how dare you drink at
aul tll bayer nadie,
fle ee
“Then the poor lamb



52 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



told him that as yet her
dam’s milk was both food
and drink to her.

«Be “that as, iv imay,.
said the wolf, ‘you are a
bad lamb, for last year I
heard that you spoke ill of
me and all my race.

“Vast year, dread: sir,
said the lamb; ‘why I have
not yet been shorn, and at
the time you name I was
not born.

“The wolf, who found
_ that it was of no use to tell
lies, fell in a great rage,
and as he came up to the
lamb he said: ‘All you
sheep have the same dull
kind of face, and how is
one to know which is
which? If it was not you,
it was your dam, and that
is all the same, so I shall
not let you go hence. He
then flew at the poor meek





lamb and made a meal of
her.”

As the day was fine, Tom
and Hal took a stroll ina
wood, and went so far that
they were glad to sit down
to rest. By and by a poor
dame came up to them.

“My dears,” said she,

“you seem to have lost

your way, come and rest
in my cot; and as my girl
has gone to milk the cows,
may be you will sit there
a while by the side of my
fire, and wait till she brings
you some warm milk from
the cow.”

“No, said Tom, “we
have not lost our way, but
we shall be glad to rest in
your house and drink some
milk.” So they went in
and sat by a fire made of
turf. Tom, who had not
till now seen such a fire,



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 53





said, “ What is it made!

of?”

The old dame told him
that it was a peat fire, and
made of the roots of heath
and turf which they dig
from the waste land, and
then put it in the sun to
bake. |

“How can you _ roast
your joints of meat at such
a fire as this?” said Tom.

“We do not eat meat in
our house,” quoth the good
dame; “but we are glad if
we can get a bit of fat pork
to boil in a pot of greens;
and we bless God that we
fare so well, for there are
lots of poor souls as good
as we, who can scarce get
a bit of dry bread.”

The girl now came in
with a bowl of warm milk
from the cow, and a slice
of brown bread for each.

At last the boys said
they must go home, so
Tom: gave \ithescamenva
crown for all that she had
done for them.

“No, bless you, my dear,”
said she, “I would not take
it: fromy youumom alll the
world; for though my good
man and I are poor, we can
give a mess of milk to
two young things like you,
when they want it.”

So both the boys gave

her their thanks, and left.

But just as they went out
of the door, two men came
in, and said to her, “Is
your name Stiles ?”

fOVies alts, ausatal
dame.

“Then here’s a writ from
Mr. John Gruff,” said one
of them, “which I have to
serve Mr. Stiles with; and
if he does not pay the

the



54 :

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



debt, which is twelve
pounds, and all costs, we
shall take your goods and
your stock and sell them to
pay it.”

“Nay, quoth the dame,
“this could not have been
meant for Stiles, for he has
no debts, save for the rent
of our house and farm, and
I know he has made it up
for half a year.”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Stiles,
_ we are right, and when he
comes in we will talk with
him; and in the mean time
we can make out our list
of goods in the next room
while we wait, in case Mr.
Stiles should not have cash
to pay the debt with.”

Stiles soon came home.
“Well, my dear,” said he,
“what have you got for me
to eat and drink ?”

“Ok, my. poor Ned!”



said she, “here is sad news
for you; but | think it can
scarce bel tue) that ou
owe a large sum to Mr.
John Gruff.”

At the sound of this
name, the man gave a Start,
and his face, which till now
had been red, grew all at

once as pale as death. |

“Sure, Ned, it can’t be
true?”

“Nay,” said Stiles, “I
do not know to a pound
or two how much it was;
but when Frank Home lost
all he had, I was bound
for him to keep him from
jail, and when he went to
sea, he told me he would
send me all he could spare
from time to time, but you
know it is now three years
since he went, and we have
nat once heard of him.” |

Then the poor wife burst



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 55



out in loud grief, and told|cries; and Hal, too, took

him where the two men
were, and what they had
come to the house for..

At this, Ned's face grew
red with rage, and the first
thing he did was to seize
an old sword which hung
on the wall, and then said:
“Tt shall not be, I will die
first!” He then drew the
sword, and would have run
to the room where the men
stood, but his wife fell down
on her knees to him, and
caught hold of his arm to
beg of him not to stir a
step. “It would be a sin
in you to use that sword,”
said she; “what if you
were to kill the men? Put
up the sword, Stiles, for
my sake, if not for theirs.”

This made him pause,
and his young ones hung
round him with sobs and



hold of his hand, which
he made wet with tears,
till at last Stiles sat down,
hid his face in his hands,
and said, “God’s will be
done.”

Tom, though he had not
said a word all this time,
now gave his young friend
a look, which was as much
as to say, Come with me;
and then went out of the
house, and took the road
which led to Mr. Barlow’s.
As he went, his thoughts
were so full of the scene
he had just left, that he
did not speak; but when
he got home, he went at
once to Mr. Barlow and
said: I must beg of you
to send me to my own
home at once.”

Mr. Barlow said: “Why,

my young friend, how is



56 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

this? Do you wish to
leave me?”
“No: su, said Pom, 1

have not the least wish to
leave you; far from it, for
you have been so kind to
me, that I shall feel it as
long as I live: but I want
to go home, and at once,
for I have a thing to tell
them at home which I am
sure you will like to hear
of.”

Mr. Barlow did not press
Tom to say what it was,
but sent him home.on his
horse, with a man to take
care of him.

It gave great joy to Mr.
and Mrs. Merton to see
‘ their son, but Tom’s mind
was so full of the scene
which took place at the
farm, that he did not lose
much time, but said at once
to Mr. Merton: “You

told me some time since
that you were rich, and
that if I were good I should
be rich too. Now will you
please to give me a large
sum to take back with
me!”

Mr. Merton.—‘ Yes, to
be sure. How much. do
you want—a pound?”

Tom —* No, a great deal
more than that.”

Mr. Merton.—“ Let us
see first how much?”

Tom then told him of
the sum that he meant to
help Stiles with, but did
not say what use he should
put it to.

“Bless the boy!” said
Mrs. Merton, “I am sure
Mr. Barlow has taught him
to spend.”

Tom.—“No; Mr. Bar-
low does not know of it.”

Mr. Merton —‘ But what



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 57







can a child at your age|can you want with all this?”

want with such a sum?”

Tom.—‘‘ Well, I do not

wish to name the use I.

mean to put it to, but I am
quite sure that it will give
you great joy when you
do come to hear of it.”

Mr. Merton.—“ That I
Gomouemmcie (=

Tom.— “ But if you will
please to let me have it, |
will pay you from time to
time.” !

Mr. Merton —“ How can
you pay me such a sum as
that?”

Tom. — Why, you know
you give me new clothes,
and fill my purse now and
then, and if you will but
let me have the sum I ask
for, I will want no more
clothes or cash till I have
made it up.”

Mr. Merton.—“ But what



Tom.—‘ Pray wait a few
days and you shall know,
and if I make a bad use
of it, don’t trust me as long
as I live, that’s all.”

Mr. Merton was much
struck with his son’s tone,
and as he was both rich
and good, he said, “ Yes, I
will give it to you.’ So
he put the whole sum in
Tom’s hand, and told him
that he must let him know
what use he had put it to,
and that if he did not like
the way in which it was
spent, he would trust him
no more.

Young Tom was half
mad with joy at the thought
that Mr. Merton had put
his ¢rust in him; and said,
I hope you will let me go
back now with Mr. Bar-

low’s man.



58 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

When he got back, Tom's
first care was to hunt up
his friend Hal, and ask
him to come with him to
poor Stiles’ house. So the
two boys set off with all
speed. As they came near
to the house they heard
loud sobs, which came from
the dark end of the room,
where sat the poor dame.

Tom took her by the
hand, and said: “You were
kind to me just now, and
gave me bread and milk
when I was half dead with
heat and thirst, so I have
made up my mind to be
kind to you.”

“God bless you, my
child!” she said; “but you
could not help me if you
would.” |

Tom.—‘* How do you
know that?”

Mrs. Stiles. —“1 know



you would do all you could,
but our goods are to be
sold if we do not pay the
debt; and ¢4at—oh! that
we could not do; so my
dear Ned and all our young
ones must be sent out of
doors, and none but God
can help us!”

_ Tom's heart was too full
to wait, so he took out his
bag of gold and threw it
on her lap. “Here, take
this, will you?” said he, .
“and pay your debt with
LES

. The poor soul gave a
wild stare at Tom, wrung
her hands, and fell back in
her chair. When Stiles, .
who had been all the while
in the next room, saw her,
he ran up to her, caught
her in his arms, and said,
“Why, Ann, what ails
you?” But she sprang from

—e



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

him, and fell down on her!
knees to Tom to give a
kiss on his foot. Stiles
thought that his wife had
gone mad, and the babes
ran up to her to pull her
by the gown, and _ hide
their face in it. At the
sight of them she said:
“You young rogues! why
don't you join with me,
and give thanks to this

dear child who has kept

you from death?” At this
Stiles said: “Why, Ann,
you must be mad! What

can this young boy do for
us that will keep our babes
from. death ?” |
“Oh, Ned!” said she,
“T am not mad, though I
may seem to be. But look
here, Ned! Look here!
see what the good God
has sent us by the hands
of this dear child, and ¢hen



59



fell ime it alain mad’ or
not!”

As she said this she
brought to view the bag
of gold, and, at the sight,
Stiles’ look was quite as
wild as hers had been, but
Tom went up to him, shook
him by the hand, and said,
“T give it to you, so I hope
you will be set free from
your debt.”

Sobs of joy from the
poor man now came loud
and fast, but this was too
much for Tom, he could
not stand it, so he and Hal
ran out of the house as fast
as they could go, and were
soon out of sight.

When they got home
they found it was the hour
for school, and Mr. Barlow
gave this tale to Tom to
read out :—

« A man in the East, who



60 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



sold doves, threw down
some grains of rice in a
wood, and flung a net on
the top of them in such a
way that it could not be
seen in the grass, and then
hid close by to watch.
Soon the king of the wild
doves—Smooth Neck by
name— flew up to the spot
with his train, and said:
“Whence can all these
grains of rice come in this
wild wood? Let it be
seen to, eat them not yet.”
But the doves, drawn by
greed, set to work to pick
them up, and they were
all caught in the net. ©

| bla | esaid) ASmoorn
Neck, ‘I thought this might
be the work of a foe. You
would not wait, as I told

you to do, and this has.

come of it. Now, hear the

plan which I have in hand. |



Small things may work out
great ends, for we know
that a large beast may be
bound with straws, when
made firm in a ¢hick rope.
Now all put forth your
whole strength af once and
take up the net, then fly
off with it.

.““This they did, and the
man who had set the snare
was much struck to see his
net borne off by the birds.

“«This is well,’ said one
of the doves; ‘but what are
we to do now with these
toils on our feet?’

“Smooth Neck © said:
‘We are in an ill plight, but
Gold Fur, the king of the
mice may help us.’

“So he went in search
of Gold Fur’s hole, which
had scores of small doors
that led to it, deep down
in the ground.



. SANDFORD AND MERTON. 61



“The good mouse came
out to meet them, and when
he had heard their tale, he
said: ‘As long as my teeth
do not break, I will gnaw
the nets for you. So with
his sharp teeth he cut the
snare, and set them all free.

“Then with great joy,
the king of the doves bent
low his smooth neck to
him, and said: ‘How much
do we owe to you? Think
of us as your slaves for life,
for a friend in zeed is the
best friend of all.’”

Mr. Barlow, Tom, and
Hal now went out for a
walk. They had not gone
far, when they saw three
men, who led three large
bears by a chain, and a
crowd of girls and boys
ran with them. On the
head of each of, these bears
sat an ape, which now and



then gave a grin. Tom,
who till now had not seen
a bear or an ape, thought it
fine fun when the bear rose
on his hind legs as he was
bid, as well as to dance to
the sound of bells. Mr.
Barlow and the boys then
went on their way, but
soon they saw a crowd of
men who ran with all their
might, and they found that
one of the bears had made
a bound, snapt his chain
in two, and run off witha
herce growl to the spot
where Tom and Hal stood.
Mr. Barlow, who had a

stout stick in his hand, and
was a brave man, saw this,
and bade Tom and Hal
stay where they were; he
then ran up to the bear,
who stood still as if he
would bite him, but Mr.

Barlow struck him two or



62

three hard blows, spoke to
him in a hoarse voice, took
old: sof ithe | endisof whic
chain, and so made the
huge beast give in. By
and by, the man who kept
the bear came up, and Mr.
Barlow gave him the chain,
and with it a charge that
he ought to keep a sharp
look-out on so fierce a beast
as a bear.

All this time the boys
had stood some way off
quite still, to look on. But
as luck would have it, the
ape that had sat on the

head of the bear was
thrown off when that great
brute broke loose, and Tom,
who thought he would be
as brave as Mr. Barlow,
ran up and took hold of
the string to which the ape
was bound. But as the





SANDFORD AND MERTON. .

ape had no wish to be
caught, he gave a snap at
‘Tom’s arm, and made his
teeth meet in the flesh of it.
Tom would not let him go,
but beat him with a stick
which he had in his hand, ©
till the ape, who saw he
had a strong will to deal
with, at last gave in, and
let Tom lead him.

When they. got back to
Mr. Barlow's they found
Mr. Merton's groom at the
gate, with a horse, to take
Tom home for a few days.
As soon as Tom got there,
Mr. and Mrs. Merton
threw their arms round his
neck with joy to see their
dear boy once more. But
though Tom told them of
all things else, he did not
say a word of the sum he

gave to Ned Stiles.



SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 63

CHAPTER V.

Tue next day they. all

three went to church, but
they had not sat long in
their pew when they found
that all eyes were cast

on Tom. Mr. and Mrs..

Merton knew not what to
make of this, but would
not, of course, ask what it
all meant till they had left
the church. Then, as they
went through the gates,
Mr. Merton said to Tom:
“What did all the folk
stare at you for, my boy?
And they had so much to
say, too, as they stood to
gaze at you. What did it
all mean?” !
Tom had no time to tell
him, for just then poor
Ann Stiles ran up to him,

fell down at his feet, and

said he had, “through the
grace of God, set them all
free. Yes, dear child, I,
my good man, and our
babes all owe our lives to
you. We have naught
but thanks to give you,
save a wish that when it is
time for your dear soul to
soar up to the next world,
this good deed may help
you in your flight.”

All that Mr. and Mrs.
Merton could do was to
stand and gaze at what
went on; but when, at
length, they found that
Tom’s gift was the cause
of it all, they felt as much
as the poor dame did, and
they threw their arms round
the young boy’s neck and
wept.



64

Their hearts were now
too full for them to think
of the crowd that stood
round, till at last they went
to their coach to hide the
tears of joy which ran
down their cheeks. Few
can judge what they felt
when they were made to
know how Tom’s heart had
spread since his stay at
Mr. Barlow’s, for they saw
that his mind, his heart,
and his health had _ all
grown strong by it.

No one saw Tom fret at
Mr. Barlow's, as he had
done at home, for since he
had had Hal to 4ve and
give way to, his thoughts
had been so much drawn
off from se/f that it made
a new life of it. Nor was
he the worse for the cold,
which was now so great

that the ponds were a mass

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

of ice, and the earth was
bare of food for bird and
beast.

When Tom came back
to Mr. Barlow’s, the first
thing he did was to go and
look at his new house; but
to his great grief he found

‘that his choice plum tree,

from which he was in hopes
of so much fruit, had been
cut at the root by the teeth
of the hares, and was dead.
Tom ran to Mr. Barlow in
a great rage to tell him what
“those vile hares had done.”

Mr. Barlow—\ grieve
to hear that your tree is
dead, but it is now too late
to help it,”

Tom. —“ Yes, but you
may have the rogues all
shot, so that they should
not get to our pear tree,
which you know, sir, is not

far off.”







The Bear snaps his Chain, but is caught by Mr. Barlow.



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 65



Mr.
should have had a fence
put round your tree to
save it from the hares.
And as all things are so
much in want of food now
that this hard frost has set
in, of a truth, I know not
what is to be said if they
come too near for it, as the
poor things must eat.”

Tom said he did not like
this cold time of the year
Anealus

Pe Viellie ssatdeeelale “1
could tell you of a land,
which is far north, where
there are zo trees, and
where the men know not
how to make bread, and
have no sheep, hogs, or
COWS.

Tom.—* What then have
they to live on?”

FTal— They have large

stags, which are tame, and |



Barlow.—“ You|\live in herds; and when

the snow is on the ground
they scratch it and find a
sort of moss which grows
there; and when the frost
is too hard for this, the
men kill part of the herd
and live on the flesh, which
keeps good a long time in
so cold aclime. The skins
of the deer they spread on
the ground to sleep on, and
make warm coats of them.
They have but one kind
of house, and that is made
of poles, all of which meet
at the top, where they leave
a small hole to let the smoke
through. On these poles
they lay the skins of deer,
turf, or the bark of trees,
and the huts have a small
hole in the side through
which they creep to get in.
They do not keep long to
one spot, but from time to



56 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

time they take down their
house, pack it in_ their
sledge, and set it up in
some new place.”

Tom.—‘ Do they draw
the sledge with their own
hands ?”

Flal.—“\ know I shall
make you stare, Tom, when
I tell you that the deer
draw it for scores of miles
at a time, and they go at
full pace on the snow, which
is as hard as a board.”

Tom.— “This makes me
think I should like to go
there.”

Hal— Well, don't pack
up your trunk till you have
heard the rest. There are
no fruit trees, think of that!
no fields, no roads, no inns
to sleep at, no shops; bears
and wolves prowl all round
them to prey on the herds

of deer, 90 that the men!

have to hunt them: to do
this they fix a large piece
of flat board four or five
feet long to the soles of
their feet, and thus they
run onthe snow. They kill
the bears with the shaft from
their bow, save when they
find them or the wolves in
their dens, and then they
use spears. When they
have put a bear to death,
they boil the flesh in a pot,
and their friends all come
to the feast. They melt
down the fat, and then sit
round the flame and tell
tales of the hunt.”
ZTom.—“ Poor men! I
should think such a life
must soon kill them.”
Mr. Barlow. — “ Have
you found then that those
who eat and drink most
have the best health ?”
Tom. —“ No, I think



not; for there are two or
three men who come to
dine with us, who eat such
huge plates of meat that
you would say they must
burst, and these men have
lost the use of their limbs;
their legs swell as big as
their waists, and they seem
as though they could scarce
put their feet to the ground.
When their coach drives
_up to the door, two or three
of the grooms come to help
them out: and these fat
men talk of no one thing
but of what they eat and
drink.”

Mr. Barlow.—“Do you
find this to be the case
with the poor ?”

Tom.—‘ No.”

Hal and Tom set off for
a stroll in a wood, and they
went so far that they lost
their way. The wind blew

SANDFORD AND MERTON. 67



hard, and the snow fell so
fast, that their track could
not now be seen, so they
stood in the stem of an old
oak, which just held them.

“What shall we do?”
said Tom, while the tears
fell fast from his eyes.

“Do?” said Hal: “we
must wait here till it clears
up, and then we must find
our way home.”

Tom.— But what if it
should zo¢ clear up?” said
Tom, with more tears.

Hal =e Welle inesthat
case we must make our
way through the snow, or
stay here.” :

Tom.—‘ But oh, how |
dread this lone wood! If
we had but a fire to warm
us !”

Hal.—“ Well, I have
heard that if you strike a
piece of flint on steel, a



68 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

spark will come. I have
a large knife here, and if
I could but find a piece
of flint, I could. strike
fire with the back of it;
so let us try what we can
do.” )

. The boys made a search
for some flint, and found
some, though as the snow
lay so thick, it cost them
some pains. Hal then took
the flints and struck them
with all his might, till they
were quite thin bits, and
out of these he chose a
sharp piece, which he hit
with the back of his knife.
oaphis «said bal tewill
serve to light a fire with.”
He then got all the dry
leaves he could find, which,
when put in a heap with
small bits of wood, made
a blaze from the sparks

which he had struck. But



it was in vain, for the leaves
were too damp to burn up,
so the boys thought that as
they could get no warmth,
the best thing for them to
do was to make their way
home as well as they could.
At each step Hal sank up

to his knees in the snow.

At length he saw a heap

of dry wood that had been
left with fire in it. “See,
here’s luck!” said he. “Look,
here is a fire that wants
but some wood to make it
blaze up.”

This it soon did, and as
the two boys stood there
to warm their cold limbs,

lal saidi, 12th Rom
Merton, you know not
what want is! But I know

some poor boys who have
no fire to warm them, and
no clothes to put on, yet
they do not cry in a year



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 69



so much as you have done
this half hour.”

Just then who should
come up but the poor boy
to whom Tom gave the
clothes! Hal said to him,
“Can you show us the
way out of the wood?”

“Ves, to be sure [ can,”
said Jack (for that was his
name); “but who would
have thought that I should
see you here at this time of
night, in all this snow and
wind! If you will come
to our cot, I will run to
tell Mr. Barlow you are
safe, for he said that he
could not find you.” So
Jack led the boys to his
home. “Dad,” said he,
“heres Mr. Merton, who
was so good to us all; he
has lost his way, and is
well nigh dead with cold.” |

So the man rose from



the side of the fire, and
bade Tom and Hal sit
down, and the dame went
to fetch a large log of wood
to make a bright blaze,
and said: “There, young
sirs, we can make you
warm, and I wish we could
ask you to sup with us, but
1 fear what we poor folk
eat would be too coarse
for such as you.”

‘“Notiso said Mom, “for
I have had so long a fast,
that I feel as if I could eat
the chair I sit on.” Then
the dame went to broil
some meat for Hal and
Tom; in the mean time
the old man took up his
book and laid it with care
on the shelf.

Tom saw this, and said,
“What book is that?” The
old man told him it was

the Book of God’s Word.



7O



“ Ah, sir,” said he, “you are
but a child, and as yet too
young to think of such
things, but when. I am cast
down, and my heart is
faint, the balm of that book
is sweet; it works like a
good draught, and heals
and binds up the wounds
of the soul. When I am
low I go to it, and it is
‘sure to do me good. God
took care that in his Word
man should find balm, and
oil, and wine, to cheer him,
and drive off his grief, and
give him joy and peace of
mind in its room. There
are words fit to speak peace
to us when we stand in
need of it, words to cheer
us, words to guide us in
the right path, and words
to point out and bid us
shun the wrong path. Oh,
if we go to that book cz



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

faith, we shall be sure to
get all this good from it!”

By this time the kind
dame had spread a coarse
but clean cloth on a board
as white as snow, on which
she put the meat and the
brown bread. |

In the mean time Jack
had come home from Mr.
Barlow's, where he had
found him in great grief
at the loss of the two dear
boys who were in his care.
He had sent right and left,
yet in no place could they
be found, and he came
back with Jack to the cot
just as Tom had had his
meal, which would have
made three such as Mr.
Barlow could eat.

Tom and Hal rose to
meet him, and thank him
for the long search he had
made for them, and to tell



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 71

him how much grief they
felt to have been the cause
of all his fears. Mr. Bar-
low said in a mild tone
that he thought it was not

wise to stray so far from
home. He took leave of
the good folk of the cot,
and then they all three set
off home.



CITA RTER VA:

As Mr. Barlow and the
two youths went on their
way home the stars shone
with a bright light. “I do
not think there is a man
that could count them!”
said Tom, “for you might
as well try to count the
flakes of snow that fell
while we were in the
wood.”

At this speech Mr. Bar-
low gave a loud laugh, and
said: “Hal will tell you
that it is zof so. Can you
not tell Tom the names

of the groups of stars,
Flaite

Hal.—‘Not all of them,
I fear, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Come,
Hal, as you were brought
up ata farm, I think you
can at least point out to us
Charles's Wain.”

So Hal bade Tom look
al tive bright Stars... ana
three more a short way off.

Mr. Barlow —“‘ The four
stars are like the wheels of
a cart, and the rest are like
the horse that draws the



72 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



cart. Now, Tom, look well
at them, and see if you can
find a group of stars that
are like them as to the way
they stand.”

Lom.— ‘No, sir, I do

not think I can.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ Now
look on the two stars which
stand for the hind wheels

of the cart, and raise your:

eyes straight up. Do you
not see a bright star that
seems to be, but is not
quite, on a line with them ?”
Tom.— Yes, sir, I do.”
Myr. Barlow.—“That is
the Pole Star; it does not
stir from its place, and if
you look full at it, you
may find the north.”
Tom.—“ Then if I turn
my face to that star I look
to the north ?”
Mr. Barlow—* You are
right.”



shal]
turn my back to the south?”

Mr. Barlow.— Y ou are
right once more, Tom; and
now can you not find the
east and the west 2”

_Lom.—“ Does not the
sun rise in the east?”

Mr. Barlow.—“Yes, but
there is no sun now to tell
us.” ,

— Flal—* Tf you turn your
face to the north, the east
will be on your right hand,
and the west on your left.”

Mr. Barlow—“ You are
right.”

Tom— That's fine! So,
then, as I know the Pole
Star, 2) cane finds enon,
south, east, and west; and
that too when clouds shut
out the sun. I shall tell
them all of this next time
I go home.”

isk 2 ale

Tom.—“Then I

glad



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 73



should [I have been to
know more of it that
night that I was on the
marsh; for I lost my track,

~- and knew not where I was.

At last I thought I must
‘give it up, when on one
side of me | saw a light
not far off, as if some one
went on the moor with a
lamp.” .

Tom.—‘ Did not that
make you glad, Hal?”

ia) Vou shall hear.
At first I did not quite
like to go up to the man
who (as I thought) held the
lamp; but then it struck
me that it was not worth
ainams pains to butt a
poor boy like me; so I
made up my mind to be
boid, and go up to it, and
ask my way of the man.”

Tom. —‘ And did he tell
you the way?”

Flal.— “1 thought at
first that the light was on
my right hand; it went
fast, and then it would seem
to go in front of me, then
to the left. I thought this
was strange, but I went on
with the chase, and just
as I felt I had got so near
that I could grasp at it, I
fell in a pit, and found I
was on the same side as the
light, so I went in search
of it once more, but still in
vain; and I knew no more
where I was than if I had
been set down in a strange
land. I had no hopes that
I should get home if I did
not reach the light, and
though I could not think
that the man who held it
knew I was so near, still
he would seem to strive all
he could to get from me.”

Tom.— “ And did he?”



74 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Flal—“ No. Though I
gave a loud cry to beg of
him to halt, it was of no
use, for the light went ten
times as fast, and zig zag,
so that I thought the man
who held it must be drunk.
I had some hopes that I
might hear the bark of a

dog, or the bell of a-sheep, |

but no sound was there to
be heard. The wind grew
cold and bleak, and my
clothes were wet through
with the rain. I sat down
for a short time to think
what I should do, but when
I cast my eyes up to the
sky, there I saw Charles's
Wain, and at the top of
iy the, Tole. Star. lis
brought to my mind _ that
the last time I went that
way the Pole Star was
right in front of me, so it
struck me that if I were







to turn my back on it, and
go in a straight line, |.
should get home; and so I
did with ease by the light
of the moon.”

Tom.—“ Then it is of
use to know the stars! |
have made up my mind
that I will learn the names
of all the stars that are in
the sky. But, blaleaid
you find out what that light
was that you saw in the
marsh ?”

Hlal—“It was the Will
of the Wisp.”

Tom. —‘ Who is he?”

Hal— ‘They told me
at the farm that it was a
kind of air that comes out
of the earth and takes fire,
and that time out of mind
men have run up to try to
get near it, as I did, and
like me, had been thrown
in some pit or ditch.”



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 75



The young boys had now
got to Mr. Barlow's gate,
and when they had sat a
long time to talk of all
that they had gone through,
they went to bed.

Mr. Barlow was in his
room where he sat to write
by the light of a lamp, when
in sprang Tom, who said
in a loud voice—

“Sir, sir, I have found it

out! It moves! It moves!”

“« What
Mr. Barlow.
_ “Why, Charles's Wain
moves. When I took my
clothes off I thought I
would take one more peep
at the sky, and I saw that
all the four stars that make
the cart, and the two stars
that make the horse, had
got up in the sky a great,
great way |” |

“Well,”

moves?” said

said Mr. Bar-





low, “you are right. You
have done a vast deal this
day, and when we get up
to break our fast we will

talk of all that you have

seen and heard.”

The next day they did
so, and Mr. Barlow told
the boys a tale from real
life, which took place in
the Alps, where the rocks
are so high that the snow
does not melt on the tops
of them. Mr. Barlow said
that half the year the men
who live there keep to the
house day and night, but
when it gets warm the snow
thaws on the sides of the
hills and rocks, and, as it
melts, it is apt to fall down
from time to time in a large
mass, so as to kill the men
and beasts who are in the
vale.

Well, it was from these



76 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



Alps, on the first of March,
that a mass of snow of huge
bulk came down from a
great height. All in the
vale were then in doors,
save two, Joe Roche and
his son (who was a lad),
and they had gone on the
roof of their house to clean
the snow fromit. Ai priest,
who just at that time went
by on his way to the
church, told them to come
down from the roof as fast
as they could, for he saw
a large mass of snow roll
down the side of the rocks
of ice, which would soon
be on them. The man and
his son flew for their lives
they knew not where; but
they had not gone more
than a few yards, when the
lad’s foot slid on the ice,
and he fell down. Roche

went dack a step or two to



lift him up, and as he did so
he saw the mass of ice and
snow fall on his house and
Crush ity)

When Roche came to
think how all that he held
most dear were now shut
up in the snow to die, he
was so struck down with

grief that he fell to the

ground in a kind of fit.
At last he got safe to a

friend's house some way

on Five wdaysr nadie
been there ill; and on the
sixth day he went with his
son and two men to try
if he could find the spot
where his house stood, but
they could not do so.

As the next month was
sure to be hot, he knew
the srow would melt, and
from time to time he went
to see if he could find a
trace of his dear wife and



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 7

two babes. One day he

threw earth on the snow

that lay on his house (to

mel it) “then he broke
through ice six feet thick
with a strong bar, then
thrust down a long pole,
and with this he felt the
ground; but as it grew
dark, he had to leave off
for that day.

The next, day a friend
went with him to work,
and they found the spot
where the house stood by
a hole in the snow, but
none of the dead could
they see. They now made
a search in a shed or stall
which was some way from
the house, and there they
heard a cry of “Help!
Help!”

What tongue can tell
the rush of joy which these
sounds sent to the heart of

\





Roche? He and his friend
set to work with all their
might to dig a hole, through
which they crept,and Roche
saw his poor wife all but
dead, who just had the
strength to say, with a faint
voice, “I Azew 1 could trust
in God and you, Roche!”
The young girl, too, still
had life; and when they
brought them to the top,
it was as if they took them
from the grave. They were
too weak to walk, and they.
were put to bed, and had
some warm milk with flour.

The wife had lost ‘the
use of her limbs from cold
and cramp, and could not
so much as sit up in her
bed, but the girl soon got
well.

The wife told the sad
tale in these words :—
“When the mass fell, our



78 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



dear boy and girl and I
were in the shed, in which
were our ass, five or six
fowls, and six goats, one of
which on that day had had
two dead kids, and we had
gone there to take her some
warm drink, and we meant
to stay there to wait for the
church bell to ring. All
at once we heard the roof
break; so we stood in the
rack, for there the roof had
most strength. The ass
got loose and gave a kick,
which threw down a pail,
in which we caught the
snow; and when the air
was warm so as to cause it
to melt, we drank it. Our
first care was to know what
there was to eat, and I
found some nuts in a pouch
which hung by my side.
The boy and girl had just





they should want no more
that day; but they thought
of a plate of meal cakes
which they knew were in
one of the stalls, yet they
could not get at them for
the snow. We all set up
a loud shrill call, but. no
oneheard us. Theassand |
goats kept up life for three .
days, and then we heard
and saw no more of them:
but two of the goats were
left, one of which gave milk,
and to them we owe our
lives.

“All this time we saw
not one ray of light, yet
for three weeks we had
some note of day and night,
for the fowls kept up their
crow at dawn till they were
dead, just as if they had
seen the break of day.

“The next day we ate

had a good meal, and saidjall the nuts, and drank



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 79



what milk the goat had,
which at first was two
pounds a day. The third
day we made a search once
more for the cakes, but in
vain. Just at the top of
the stall was a loft, where,
through a hole, the boy
could pull down the hay to
fill the rack for the goats
as long as he could reach
it; and then, when it was
too high for that, the goats
got on the boy’s back and
brought it down.

“On the sixth day the
dear boy fell sick; and
four days from that time I
held him on my lap. At
last he told me to lay him
at his length on the ground.
I did so; and when I took
him by the hand, I felt it
was cold. I then put my
hand to his mouth, and
found that that too was

cold, so I gave him some
milk, and the dear love
said—‘ Dad is in the snow.
Oh, my dad! my dad!’
and then his sweet soul
took wing.

“In the mean time the
goats milk got. less and
less; and as the fowls were
now dead, we could not
tell night from day.

“But the time had now
come for one of the goats
to have a kid; and as the
young one did not live,
we had all the milk for our
food.

“When we spoke to her,
she would come to lick our
hands and face; and she
gave us two pounds of milk
each day, so she may well
be a pet with us!”

“Dear me,” said Tom,

when Mr. Barlow had

| brought this tale to a close,



80

“what things men have to
bear!”

“They have, in good
sooth,” said Mr. Barlow;
“and we ought to do more
than sit at our ease in an
arm chair, when life is
made up.of so much grief
and care.

“Those who have no
wealth to give can show
their love by a kind word
or two, which, on the face
of it, seems but a small
thing—yet on the ear of
him who thought to die
with none to mourn him,
it would fall like choice
sounds from a lute, fill his
eyes with tears, and tell him
that one of the great race
was near, and felt for him.
It was some such thought
as this that gave Roche
strength for his work. To
get sight of one last look



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

from his poor wife, to lock
that hand in his once more,
and to speak one word of
peace to her! ‘Though this
was more than he could
dare to hope for, when she
had been shut up im the
snow so long!”

Tom.— How is it that
men can care to live in
such a place as the Alps ?”

Mr. Barlow. — “The
Swiss have a great love for
the land of their home.
Which do you love best,
Tom, the town _or these
green lanes?” :

Tom.— Oh, these green
lanes and fields, to be
sure !”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Should
you not like to live in a
town, my boy?”

Tom.— No, sir, for then
I must leave those I love

best in the world; and you ;,

d

Ci

{



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 81

too, sir, who have been so
kind tome. Ido not think
in all my life I shall meet
with so good a friend as
you are.

Mr. Barlow. —*“ Well,
these Swiss who live on the
Alps love their land best
too, like you, Tom, and the
Field Mouse.”

Tom. —‘“ What of him,
sir?”

Mr. Barlow. — “ Why,
he must needs try what
a town life was like, that
he might make his choice.
His friend the Town Mouse
- came to fetch him, and the
Field Mouse spread a meal
for his guest in his soft

nest, which was in the hole

of a tree. The fare was
plain, but it cost some pains
to get it; there were seeds
of grass, rye, wheat, and
nuts, ants’ eggs, the sweet



bag of a bee, and a frog's
leg. 3

“The Town Mouse could
not taste such fare, not he!
‘Frogs and bees are fit for
none but snakes and birds.
Let me be free with you,
Peep (for that (was. lhis
name); ‘I can't think how
you can spend your life in
this vile hole, with naught
to look at but hills and
rills, green grass and sky.
No sounds reach your ears
but the songs of birds and
the buzz of bees, while in
the town we hear the news
of the whole world. Take
my word for it, Peep, you
will find it a good change
to live in a town, for we
dance and sing, and take

our-fill of the best.’

“So they set off side by
side, till they got to a grand
house, and through a chink



Be SANDFORD AND MERTON.

they crept to a room where
a feast was spread. ‘There
were all kinds of fowl, ham
and eggs, plates full of
tants and creams, — Peep
was quite wild with joy,
and they set to work tooth
and nail.

“But hark, a key turns
in a lock, and lo! a big
man comes in with three
large dogs! The mice, in
a great fright, now run for
the chink, but their tails
brush the jaws of a great
dog ere they reach it; yet
they get safe out at last.

“When Peep could fetch
her breath, and it was a
long time first, she said
to Dame Town Mouse: ‘I
take my leave of town and
great folk from this hour,
and I long for the charms
of the Downs, and my







‘Though poor the fare,
Mice are most blest when free from care.’”

Tom.— “The Field Mouse
was quite right, and the
Town Mouse was quite
wrong.

Tom and Hal now went
to play with a snow ball
which they had made, but
which had grown to such
a size that they could not
roll it. Tom = said they
must strike. work, for no
one could have the strength
to move it. “Oh,” said
Hal, “I know a cure for
it.” So he went to fetch
two thick sticks five feet
long, one of which he took
in his own hand, and gave
one to Tom, and then told
him to shove his stick
‘twixt the ball and the
ground, while he did the

same on his side; and then

snug nest in the tree; for, | the ball went with ease.



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



83



Tom.—“ How can this
be?”

Flal—* It is the sticks
that have done it, and this
is the way our men move
the stems of large trees,
which they could not stir

but for the poles.”
Tom.—“ But the sticks
do not give us more
strength than we had.”
Just as Tom said this
the poles broke off. “This
is no great loss,’ said he,
“for the ends will do just as
well as the whole sticks.”
Yet they would not stir
the snow ball.

Tom.— “ Well, the short
sticks will not do. How
is that?”

Hal. —“ That I could
have told you, but I like
you to find these things
out. You see now that
there is more force in a

long stick than in a short
one.”

So they went to Mr.
Barlow's men to ask for
some long poles, and they
found the men at work on
the stump of an old oak,
which was so large and
strong that it would seem
as if no axe could cleave
it, yet there were but two
old men at work on it, to
break it up in small bits
for Mr. Barlow’s fires; but
Tom said he was sure that
he could not know what
hard work the poor men
were at.

flal, — “ What should
you say then if you saw
me, small as I am, cleave
it in two by the help of
but one of these men ?”

So Hal took up a six
inch wedge, and with a
few blows drove it in the



84 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

wood. The old man nad

lost sight of. “There,” said

he then struck it hard on} Hal, “this first wedge has

the head, till the root of the
oak gave a loud crack on
all sides, and the wedge
went so far in that it was

xy

done well.” Two or three
more did the job, and the

root was split in two.



CHAPTER VII.

Wuen the boys came
home they went to their
books, and Mr. Barlow
gave them a sketch of some
of the great wars that took
place a long time since.

“Oh” said Tom, “what
a fine thing it must be to
go to the wars, and dress
up in a red coat, march to
the sound of the drum, see
the flags fly in the air, and
be a man!”

“Nay,” said Mr. Barlow,

“these fine clothes and gay



sounds are not all that
make up such a life, for in
time of war there is no set
of men that have to go
through more toil than
they, for they march for
whole days in the heat of
the sun, or through cold
ANGea Tain ance eiuamaney,
chance that they have no
food to eat; and that while |
they sleep, the most they
can have is some straw to
lie down on. And there
are times when they are



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 85

worse off still. While the
fight goes on, there is not
aout tie Gaye that
each man does not run the
chance of a shot, by which
he might lose his limbs, or
die of the wounds.”

Tom. —“ Dear me, sir,
what a sad sketch you
draw of those brave men
who fight for the land of
their birth! I’m sure when
they come home sick and
ill from their wounds, those
who sent them out should
take care of them.”

Mr. Barlow —“ \n truth
they should, Tom.”

Tom sat still for a long
time wrapt in thought.

“Well, Tom, what are
your thoughts?” said Mr.
Barlow.

Tom.—* Why, sir, | want
to know how we can go to
war and not break that law





which you read to us once
a week in church, ‘ Thou
shalt mot kines

Mr. Barlow.—“ Ot all
the blood that has been
spilt from the time of the
wars of the Jews down to
a few years past, scarce a
drop of it has been shed in
a cause that can be said to
have been right, just, or to
have sense in it.”

Tom.—“ How can it be
night to killat g/,\sin ior
aught else than to save lire
in the end?”

Mr. Barlow.‘ —If men
took that law which you
speak of (‘Thou shalt not
kill’) as it is meant, there
would be no wars but those
which were fought with a

view to save life. And,
what is more, no man
would be hung.”

Flal—" But, sir, we are



86

told in the first five books
of the Word of God that
‘He who sheds_ man's
blood, by man shall his
blood be shed.”

Mr. Barlow —“But what
are the words that come
next to those which you
quote ?”

Hal—<‘ For in the form | .

>?

of God made he man.

Mr. Barlow—“ Then it
would seem that the law
was made to set forth the
great worth of a mans life,
and that the God who
made us is choice of man’s
life, ‘for in the form of
God made he man. The
Jews were so dull of heart
that they could not be made
to feel the law of Sve.
But as time went on, God
sent our Lord Christ on
earth to teach it; and Christ
said, ‘Ye have heard that



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



it hath been said, an eye for
an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth, but I say to you
strive not when harm it
done to you.”

ffal—* Then you think,
sir, that we are not. bound
by the law of God to take
a life for a life?”
Tom —‘‘It seems to me, —
sir, that when they come
to hang a man, it must
make him think that they
took the hint from him.
And I am sure he can't
think that we hold a man’s
life to be worth much, if
we send two men out of
the world when (if it were
not for this law of our
land) it need have been
but one.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ 1 think
you are right; to take a
life for a life, is to hold life

too cheap. As to wars, it



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 87



will be a good time when
we shall hear of no fights
- save those which are fought
by brutes. You must ask
Tom to tell you of the war
with the birds, beasts, and
Dates

Flal.—‘The bat—who
could not be said to be bird
or beast—at first kept out
of the way of both, but
when he thought the beasts
would win the day, he was
founda in their ranks, and to
prove his right to be there,
he said, ‘Can you find a
bird that has two rows
of teeth in his head as I
have?’ At last the birds
had the best of the fight,
so then the bat was seen
to join their ranks. ‘Look,’
said he, ‘I have wings, so
what else can I be but a
bird?’ Thus to ‘grind

with all winds’ was thought



base in the bat by both
sides of the fight, and he
could not get bird or beast
fo owl hitm- sand: tor this
day he hides and skulks in
caves and stems of trees,
and does not come out till
dark, when all the birds of
the air have gone to roost,
and the beasts of the field
are wrapt in sleep.”

The frost had now come
to an end, and as the night
was clear and light, Tom
went out with Mr. Barlow
to look at the stars.

“ How strange it is,” said
Tom, “that all the stars

should turn round the
earth !”

“How do you know,’
said’ Mr. Barlow, “that

they move at all?”
Lom.—*‘ Why, sir, I see

them move from time to-

time.”



88 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Mr. Barlow.—‘ But how
are you sure that it is the
stars that move and not
the earth 2°”

Tom made a long pause
and then said: “But in
that case, sir, I should see
the earth move, and the
stars stand still.”

Mr. Barlow.— How is
it in a coach, then; does
the coach stand still while
the trees move ?”

tom —-« No; sir, but it
looks as if it did.”

Mr. Barlow.— ‘How is
it in a boat, too?”

Tom.—* Oh yes, | have
seen the same thing in a
boat. 1 have thought the
shore slid from the boat,
and not the boat from the
land.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ lf that
is the case, may it not be
that the earth you stand on





moves, and that the stars
are at rest?”

Lom.—“ But do you.
think that such smal! things
as the stars would stand
still, and a large thing like
the earth move?”

Mr. Barlow. —‘ How do
you know that the sun and
the stars are so small ?”

Tom.—“I1 see them to’
be so. The stars are so
small that they can scarce
be seen at all; and the sun
does not seem to be so
large as a round stool.”

The next day, as they
stood to gaze on the sea,
Mr. Barlow saw a small
speck a great way off, and
the first thing was to point
it out to Tom, which cost
him some pains to do, as it
was so small.

“What do you think of
it?” said he.



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Tom said he thought it
might be a small boat, but
he could not well tell, as
it was but a speck on the
edge of the sea. “ Look,
_sir, now it seems to grow
more and more big.”

Mr. Barlow.— How is
that?”

Tom.—‘“ Why it gets
more and more near to our
sight.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ What,
can a thing, then, be small
and large too?”

Tom.—“ Yes, sir, it seems
small when it is a great
way off, for I have seen a
house and a church do the
same. And now | find
that it is a ship with a
mast, and not a boat, for I
see the sail.”

Mr. Barlow went on for
a while by the side of the
sea, and soon he _ heard



89

Tom call out to him:
“Why, sir! ‘tis not a ship
with one mast, as I thought
it was, but a fine large
man of war with three
masts, and all her sails
up.
Mr. Barlow —* Will you
now think of what you
have just said? What was
first a speck, was by and
by a small boat, then a
large one, then a ship with
One (Mast, anadenowiitisia
large man of war with three
masts, and in full sail! Yet
it is the same thing all the
while, seen far and near.”

Mr. Barlow.—* Well,
then, Rom) aie the) ‘ship,
which is now in full sight,
were to tack and sail back
just as it came up to us,
what do you think would
take place?”

Lom.—*\t would grow



go
less and less, till it got
to be a mere speck once
more.

Mr. Barlow.—“1 think
you said that the sun was
a small globe the size of a
round stool ?”

Tom.— Yes, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. — “lf the
sun were to move a great
way off, what would take
place ?”

Tom thought for some
time, and then said it would
do the same as the ship
did.

Mr. Barlow. — “Might
not the stars then at last
look as large as the sun
now does, just as the sun
would be but the size of a
star were it to move a
great way off?”

Tom.— Yes, I think it
might.”

Mr. Barlow, —“ And



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

what if the sun came near
it, would its size be the
same?”

Tom—-“No.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ lf so,
then it is clear that the
earth we live on is not so
large as we might think.
What if it should be &ss
than the sun and the stars?
They are a great way off,
and if you could go from
the earth up to the sun,
how do you think the earth
would look?” |

Tom.— “I can't tell.”

Mr. Barlow. — “No?
Why, is it not the same
thing if the ship should
sail from us, or we should
walk from the ship?”

Tom —* Yes, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Might
not the earth then at least
seem as small as the sun
and moon do 2”



SANDFORD AND MERTON. gl



Tom.—“ Yes; it would
look less and less.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Now,
then, 1 would ask you, if a
man could go straight from
the earth to the sun, how
would each seem to him
as he went?”

Tom.—‘“ The earth would
seem less and less, and the
sun more and more big.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Why
then the earth might seem
less than the sun ?”

Tom. —“ Well, so it
might.”
On their way home,

Mr. Barlow and the boys
saw a great crowd round
the door of a house, and
when they went in they
saw there a man who had
much skill in sleight of
hand; so they sat down
with the rest of the crowd.

aS ince mcatautie mam <4 tl

-|for the last.



have kept my - best trick
You see this
swan; it is no more than a
false swan, made upof wood
ang. ero, . Ii woh new
your doubts, take it up in
your hands and look at 1t.”

So the boys took it up,
and then set it to swim on
the small tank which had
been brought there to play
the trick on.

“Now this swan,” said
he, “which, you see, sirs,
looks to have no sense or
life, is of so strange a sort
that he knows me, and will
turn to me at all times
when I call him.”

The man then took a
small piece of bread, made
a shrill sound, and _ told
the swan to come to the
side of the tank to be fed.
At the word “Come, sir,”
the swan gave a slow turn,



92 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



and like a ship in full sail,
came up to the bread that
was held out for it; and
let the man go which side
he would, the swan swam
up to him.

At this a loud laugh
came from all the boys
and girls that had been
drawn there to look on,
but they could not make
out how it was. Tom was
so struck with the trick,
that for some days it was
all he could talk of. He
said he would give all he
had in the world to find
it out, and to have just
such a swan.

But Hal told him he
thought he could play the
trick; and the next day he
made up a piece of wax
in the shape of a swan,
and put it in a tub for a
pond, on which it swam







with as much grace as the

man’s swan did, and came
up to Tom when he held
out the bread.

He was mad to know
how the trick was done, so
Hal gave him the swan to
look at, and he saw that a
long thin piece of steel ran
through it from end _ to
end; and that in the bread
with which the bird was
fed was put a bar of steel
in the shape of a horse’s
shoe. But all this threw
no light on Tom's mind.
Mr. Barlow then put down
some small bits of steel,
near to which he brought
the bar; and to see these
jump up one by one, as
the bar came near them,
and dance from side to
side, made Tom jump with
glee. When the bar was
held up in the air they all



SANDFORD AND MERTON. 93





clung to it, just as if they
had sense and life, for no
one kept them there. Mr.
Barlow then put a key near
the bar, which hung to it
in the same way.

Mr. Barlow.—* A stone
is found in the mines which
can draw to it bits of steel ;
but, what is still more
strange, if you take these
bits of steel and rub them
on the stone, you can do
the same thing with chem,
for they will draw steel up

to them just as the stone
will.”





Mr. Barlow then told
him that this force in the
steel is made use of in
ships out at sea, when the
steel is shut up in a glass
case, and by its means the
men can find out the north,
south, east, and west.

Tom thought it most
strange that a small bit of
steel should help men to
cross the vast seas and sail
from port to port, and this
too when the shades of
night, and mist, and fogs
shut out the light.

CEHAPTER Vit.

THE time of year now
drew near for Mr. Merton
to have the poor folk to
dine at his house, so he
sent for them from far

and near. They came in
crowds; and there was a
large spread of meats and
cakes, beer and sweet wine,
for them all to sit down to



94. SANDFORD AND MERTON.



in the hall, where a large
bright fire met their gaze.

Mr. Barlow went to and
fro to talk to them, and to
help them to this dish and
that, and saw that they all
had their fill. Tom and
Hal did the same, and so
far the day went off well.

When the meal came to
an end, Tom took out the
large dog (whose name was
Dash), of which he was so
fond that he would throw
sticks in the pond by the
hour for Dash to bring
out and lay down at his
feet.

Tom now thought he
would make Dash draw
him in a sledge, for which
he got a chair, and bound
him to it. Dash (who
knew not the use he was
now put to) let the young
boy do to him just what he

chose; so when the dog
was bound fast to the
sledge, Tom took his. seat
with whip in hand, and set
off in grand pomp, to the
great glee of the boys and
girls who had come from
the feast to look on. This,
of course, made Tom wish
all the more to show off
his skill.

“Gee up, Dash! get on,
sir!” said he: and then
came a smack of the whip.
But poor Dash felt much
at a loss to know what the
smack of the whip was for,

‘and thought he had done

some wrong thing; so, with
a cringe, he crept on the
ground, and then made a
dead stop. This brought
a loud laugh from those
who stood by.

As Tom could not get
on with Dash, he grew hot



Full Text



The Baldwin Library

|RmB




eee :

fox

bee

_

Noein
Wiamnsoairnacty



Tom’s fright at the Snake, and Hal's brave*act.
SANDFORD AND MERTON

LN

VOTES Of ONE Saieh ABs

BY

VE See €1@ BD Ope nial Ne

‘Just at the age ’twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is truth.””
: MARMION.

WITH COLOREL TE EUS TTR dal LH OIN S

INTE, WA NEKO) IK
MCLOUGHLIN BROTHER’S, PUBLISHERS.
Eek Eh A Cl.

THE great popularity of “Sandford and Merton’
among all classes of young readers has induced the
Author to select it for the purpose of translation tnto
easy words of one syllable. But im order to maintain
the tdentity of the book, tt has been thought right to
retain the proper names of Sandford, Merton, and Bar-
low, which form the only exceptions to the rule of
using words of one syllable exclusively. The writer
takes this opportunity of acknowledging the valuable
aid she has recewed im monosyllabic words from the —
Rev. Ft. Datston’s book of “ Brief Thoughts,” by the
kind permission of the Author.

SS NDE ORD AND Nib ik OW



CHAPTER I.

TuerE was a man of
great wealth, whose name
was Merton, and he had a
young son, whom he made
the whole joy and pride
of his heart. This boy
Phedebur toreny ior a thing:
and Mr. and Mrs. Merton
_ would give it to him then
and there. But one night
when the nurse went to
put him to bed, he thought
he should like to have the
moon to play with. Well,
what was to be done? It
was clear that none of them
could give him the moon,

let him cry for it all the
night and all the day.
When they told him it was



too far off for them to reach
it, he fell down flat on the
ground, tore his hair, and
said he would have it. So
Vom (on that was) eins
Hame) eweptyon, Ullerat
length, with a deep sigh
he fell off to sleep.

Tom would eat sweet
things till he was sick, and
when this brought pain, he
could not be made to take
a dose to cure him.

When friends came to
dine at the house, Mr.
Merton would help Tom
frst, and give him the
choice parts of the meat,
lest he should shock the

guests with his cries; and
6 “SANDFORD AND MERTON.



when they sat down to tea,
Tom would not wait, but

would seize hold of the
cake and jam and eat
them.

The least rain gave him
cold. He was kept in
doors when the wind was
in the east; and in a high
wind, let it blow from the
north, south, east, or west,
young Tom was not to stir
out of the house, lest he
should take a chill.

Fle could mot leap)! or
jump, or run, as most boys
do, nor was there a child’s
game that he.could play at;
and Mrs. Merton would
not let him learn to read,
for Tom said it made his
head ache.

A man of the name of
Sandford, who kept a small
farm close to Mr. Merton's
grounds, had a son who



was just Tom’s age, and
his name was Hal.

This boy was brought
up to be much out in the
fields with the men on the
farm, and to drive the cows,
and mind the sheep. He
had a nice frank face, and
you-had but to look at him
to love him. |

While young Hal ate
his meals, if he saw a poor
wretch in want of food, he
was sure to give him half
of his own, if not all of it.
So kind was he, that he
would not rob the bird's
nests of their eggs or young
ones, and he would join in
no kind of sport which gave
pain to poor dumb brutes.

1 It is true that once Hal was

caught with a pin thrust
through a moth, which he
held with a piece of string ;
but he did this from want
¢



of thought, for as soon as
Mrs. Sandford told him
that the moth felt as much
pain, or more, than Hal
woulddo were a knife thrust
through his hand, he drew
the pin out of the moth,
and took it home and kept
it on fresh leaves. From
that time Hal would step
out of the way. if but a
worm were in his path.
He would get green boughs
for the sheep which ran by
his side, and there was not
a horse on the farm that
did not know Hal, and like
to- feel his hand pat and
stroke him while he was at

work. So great was his

love for dumb things, that
toads and frogs, which most
of us kill when we find
them, were quite safe with
Hal, who would say they
had as much right to live



SANDFORD AND MERTON. — b

as we have. Then you
could trust Hal: for the
truth of callitthat le miold
you; for if you were to
say he should have a
plum cake if he would but
tell a lie, yet would he not
tell one.

The way in which Hal
Sandford came to know
Tom Merton was this. One
fine day, Tom took a walk
in the fields with his nurse,
when what should start up
from the high grass but a
large snake, and coil round
Tom’s leg! The nurse ran
with loud shrieks for help,
while Tom did not dare to
stir from the spot where he
stood.

Just then Hal, who was
near, ran up to see the
cause of such cries. But
poor Tom could not speak,
for the sobs came so fast
8 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





All he could do was to put
out his leg to show him the
snake. Hal was brave, and
told Tom not to fear; at
the same time he took hold
of the snake by its neck,
and tore it off from his leg.

Mrs. Merton, who had
heard the cries of the nurse,
came up quite out of breath.
She caught up her dear
boy in her arms to kiss
him, and hear if he was
hurt.

“No,” said Tom, “I am
not; but I think the snake
meant to bite me, and would
have done so, if that boy
had not come to pull him
off from my leg.”

“And who are you, my
dear, to whom we owe so
much ?”

“My name is Sandford,”
eaidetal: ; Our targa is
just at the foot of the hill.”



“Well, my child, you are
a dear, brave boy, and you
must go home and dine
with us. You shall be my
child from this time; will
you 2” |

“If you please, if I may
have my own home too,”
said Hal.

Mrs. Merton sent to the
farm to say where Hal was
to dine, and then led him
by the hand to her own
house, where she found Mr.
Merton, and told him all
that took place in the field.

Hal was now in the midst
of a new scene, and he
could but gaze at Mrs. Mer-
ton, who wore a dress of |
rich silk, such as he had not
seen till now. Then they
took him through the great |
halls, till they came to the
room where they were to
dine. There was a train
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 9



of men to wait on them,
and the board was spread
with food that Hal thought
might teed a whole town.
There was to be seen on
“it all that could tempt the
taste and please the eye.
Mr. Merton said grace, they
~ all sat down, and Mrs. Mer-
ton, who saw Hal's eyes
rest on a gold cup, said—
~ “Should you like to have
such a fine cup of your
own to drink out of, my dear
bovemeliauesmt wis lone
cup, but I am sure he will
be glad to give it to his
kind young friend.”

SOY coumtiace inwillleccaia
Tom; “for you know I
have quite as fine a one,
as well as two large ones.”

flal—* Thank you, with
all my heart; but I will
not take it, for | have one
I like quite as well at home.”



Mrs. Merton. —“ How
so? Do they drink out of
such cups as this at the
farm 2”

Hlal—“‘I don't know

what you call this, but we

drink out of long cups, made

of horn such as the cows
have on their heads; and
they suit us best, for they
do not make us cross.”

Mrs. Merton.—“ Make
you cross, my child. What
do you mean?”

Hal.— Why, when the
man threw down that great
bright thing, which is just
the shape of my cup at
home, [ saw that it made
you look quite pale in the
face. Now, our horn cups
are thrown down by us all,
and no one minds it.”

Mrs. Merton (to Mr. Mer-
ton).—“ Ofa truth, my dear,
I do not know what to
10







make of this boy; he says
such strange things!”

The fact was the man
had let fall a large gold
cup, for which Mrs. Mer-
ton took him to task for his
want of care. Mrs. Mer-

ton then gave Hal a glass of
~ wine, and bade him drink
it off. |

Hal said with thanks that
he did not wish to take it.

“ But, my dear,” said she,
“this is sweet and nice, and
as you are a good boy, you
may drink it up.”

eo Ay! said bal s.“ivet
Mr. Barlow said at church
that we ought not to eat
and drink, save when we
stand in want of meat and
drink and \that’ this) was
what the good men of
old were taught by our
Bord.

Here Mr. Merton drew



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



back in his chair. ‘And
pray, my boy,” said he, “do
you know who these men
were ?” |
Fla/—* Oh, yes, sir, to
be sure I do.” 3
Mr. Merton.—* And who
were they ?”
| Hal—“ Why, sir, there
was a time when men had
grown so bad that they did
not care what they did.
The great folk were proud,
and they ate, drank, and
slept, but took no heed of
the poor. At this time the
poor would not work nor |
be taught; and boys and
girls, and all the world were
as bad as they could be.
And then there came a man
from God, whose name was
Christ, and he took care of
the poor, and went from
place to place to do good,
and cure men of all sorts of
SANDFORD AND MERTON. ; Uy

ills, and eae them what
they ought to feel, and what
they ought to do. And
He chose out twelve men
_to go with Him and do the
same things. These twelve
men did not care what they
ate and drank: for food
they had dry bread, and
they drank from the wells.
They told all whom they
met to love God, and to do
His law; to heal the sick,
feed and clothe the poor,
to wish well to those who

hate them, and toslove all)

men. And so the world
was more kind and good |
through the means of Chee |
our Lord.”

“On my word!” said Mr.
Merton, “this young child
ispquiite: a ecage = Ana, |
should be glad if Mr. Bar-
low would take our Tom to
teach him, for he grows a



great boy, and it is time
for him to learn to read.
What say you, Tom, should
you like to be a sage like
our young friend here ?”

“T dont know what a
sage means; but I should
like to be a Azmg, for he is
so rich and fine, and all
men wait on him and _ fear
him.”

“Well said, my dear!”
quoth Mrs. Merton, as she
tose, to core: hey ehild)ya
kiss. And 7a king you
ought to be! And here's
a. glass of wine for you.
|Should you not like to be
a king, Efall 2"

“T don't know what that
is, said he; “but I hope I
shall soon go to the plough
and work for my own bread,
and then I shall have no
need of men to wait on

”

me.
12 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



“ But should you not like
to be rich, my dear?” said
Mr. Merton.

Ni: sire

“No, you goose?” quoth
Mrs. Merton; “and why
not?” ,

Hal went on—‘“ Well,
there is but one rich man
that (1 know; and: that ais
Squire Chase who lives
hard by, and he rides
through folk’s corn when
he hunts, and breaks down
a hedge here and a gate
there, kills their dogs, lames
their cows, and swears at
the poor; and they say he
does all this for that he is
rich, though they dare not
tell” him’ ?so.to his face:
Oh, I would not have men
hate me as they hate him
for all the world!”

“ But should you not like
to have fine clothes on?”





said Mrs. Merton; “and a
coach to take you from
place to place?”

“ As to that,” quoth Hal,
“there isnot much to choose
in a coat, if it will but keep
you warm; and as for the
coach, if I had one, and
men to mind it, I could not
find work for them, for I
can- walk where I choose.”

Mrs. Merton threw up
her eyes at this speech of
Hal’s, but said no more.

At night Hal went home
to the farm, and Mrs. Sand-
ford kept him up till it was
quite late, to hear what he
had to say of the folk at
the great house.

“They were all kind to
me, said = lal). ouceeel
would quite as soon have >
been at home, for at the
best I had hard work to

get a meal. There was a
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 13



man to take my plate, a
man to give me drink, and
a man to stand by my chair,
just as though I had been
Jame or blind. Then there
was so much to do to put
this dish on, and take that
dish off, that I thought
there would be no end of
it. And I was made to
sit still two whole - hours
to hear Mrs. Merton talk
to me, but not as Mr. Bar-
low does; for she thought
I ought to love fine clothes,
and wish to be a king or a
rich man (and to have all
the folk hate me, as they
do Squire Chase).” While
Hal told all this to Mrs.
Sandford at the farm, at
the great house much of
the talk ran on young Hal.
Mrs. Merton thought him
brave as well as good, but
at the same time she could



not but be struck to see
how much more gross were
the thoughts of the poor
man’s child than those of
the rich.

Mr. Merton did not think
so. He thought that Hal
might put to shame boys
who were in a high rank
of life. “A grace of dress
and a way of the world,”
said he, “a man may soon
pick up; so much so, that
these might be found with
grooms; but the real seat
of good taste must be in
the heart and mind, not in
dress and fine airs.”

| My. dears -caids Win.
Merton, in a grave tone,
to his wife, “I think this
boy of the farm has in his
mind the seeds of a true
and great man. And I
know of no one thing that
would give me more joy
14 SANDFORD AND MEKTON.



than to find that our child
did not. fall short of Hal
Sandford of the Farm
House.”

Mrs. Merton did not
speak, but Mr. Merton
Went On) to saya “Tiss
our fault that Tom has not
been taught to read, and to
_ learn what most boys of
his age know. I have long
seen all this, but have not
as yet told out my thoughts
to you. I must now let you
know that I have made up
my mind to place Tom
with Mr. Barlow, if he will
take him. Iam quite firm
in what I say, and I hope
you see it in the same light
as I do. Young Sandford
is just the age of Tom, and
I should lke our boy to
be brought up with him.
We have been too fond
of him, (if I may so speak),





and have spoilt him. And
I mean to ask Sandford if
he will let me pay to have
his son taught by Mr. Bar-
low for a few years while
Tom is there, if Mr. Bar-
low will take the boys in
hand.” Mr. Merton said
this in so firm a tone, that
his wife, who knew that it
was high time that Tom
should learn to read, at last
made up her mind to part
with her dear boy.

They wrote to ask Mr.
Barlow to dine with them,
that they might know what
he thought of the plan, and
he told them that he would
do his best to teach their
son, but not if he was paid
for it. He said he would
take Tom in his house as
a friend, till he could find
out if those faults which
he saw in him would yield
SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 15



to his will. So, in a short | house, where Hal Hadebecn



time Tom was sent to his | for a week or more.



CrEAT PER 11.

THe next day Mr. Bar-
low took up a spade, and
gave Hal a hoe, that they
might set to work and dig
up the weeds.

“All that eat should
work,” said Mr. Barlow to
Tom. “See here, this is
my bed, and that is Hal's.
We both work at them for
some time each day, and
he that can raise the best
crops will fare the best.
Now, Tom, if you will join
us, | will mark you out a
piece of ground which you
shall have, ana all that
grows on it shall be your
own.”



‘Now says | Tommi
don’t choose to slave like
a boy at the plough.”

“Just as you please,
young sir,” said Mr. Bar-
low; “but Hal and I will
mind our work.”

By and by Mr. Barlow
said it was time to leave off,
and he took Hal by the
hand, led him to a seat,
and brought out a dish of
ripe plums which were
quite fresh from the tree,
with the bloom on them.
and gave one half to Hal,
while he ate the rest. Tom
thought he should have

had his share: but when
16 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

he saw that he was quite
left out, he flew in a great
rage, and burst out with
sobs and cries.

“What do you cry for?”
said Mr. Barlow. >

Tom said not a word.

“Well, sir, if you don't
choose to talk, you need
not do so. No one need
talk in my house if they
do not like it.”

At this speech Tom got
much worse, and went
round the grounds in a
great rage, for he found he
was in a place where no
one tcok pains to please
him.

Mr. Barlow and Hal
then went for a walk in
the fields, and as they came
home Hal saw a kite on
the ground, which had a
young chick in her claws.

The kite flew off when Hal



came up fo it, and left the
chick much hurt, but still
it had life in it.

ook, sity Ssatde ial
“see how he bleeds and
hangs his wings! I will
hold him to my breast to
warm him, and I will: take
him home when | go to
the farm, where he shall
have part of my meals till
he is well.”

As soon as he came
from his walk, Hal's first
care was to put his chick
in a cage with some fresh
turf and some crumbs of
bread, and then Mr. Bar-
low and he went to dine.
In the mean time poor
Tom,’ who was seen to
skulk from place to place,
was glad to find that at
last a meal was_ spread,
and took. his chair to sit
down to it with the rest.


The Squire dragged by nis Horse. and saved by Hal,
SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 17



“Stop, sir,” said Mr.
Barlow; “as you are too
proud to work, we, who
are not, do not choose to
work for you.”

At this speech Tom
wept as if his heart would
break, but more from grief
than rage, for he saw that
no one in the house took
heed of his cries.

But Hal, who could
not bear to see his young
friend in such a state of
woe, said.to Mr. Barlow;
“Pray, sir, may I do as I
please with my share of
the meal?”

“Yes, to be sure you
may, said he.

“Why, then, I will give
it all to Tom, who wants
it more than I do.” So he
gave it to him where he
sat, which was some way
off from the rest.



Tom. took it with thanks,
but he did not lift his eyes
fromm the ground.

‘Sl see,) ssalcd mV we bar
low, “that proud young
boys who will not work,
are not too great to take
the bread from those who
have gone through some
toil to earn it.” This speech
brought fresh tears from
Tom.

The next day, Mr. Bar-
low and Hal went to work
once more; but they had
not been out long, when
Tom came to them to ask
if he might have a hoe too,
Mr. Barlow then gave him
one; but as he did not
know how to use it, he hit
some strokes on his feg
with it. So Mr. Barlow
laid down his own spade,
that he might teach Tom
how to hoe; and in a short ©
£8

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



time he got on well with
it. When the days work
was done, they all three
sat on a bench to eat fruit;
and Tom had his share,
which he ate with great
glee, as he had done some
hard work.

From this time, Mr. Bar-
low and the boys went day
by day to work at their
beds; and as they sat in
the shade to rest from their
toils, Mr. Barlow gave Hal
this tale to read out :—

“A fly and an ant once
came to words as to which
stood first in rank. The
fly said, ‘How can you
place your mean state by
the side of mine? Look
how I soar up in the air,
skip round the head of a
king, and kiss the lips of a
queen !. I toil not, nor stoop
to work; but live a life of



-ease. What can you have

to say to this?’

“Why, quoth the ant,
in a sharp tone, ‘to be
made much of by kings
and queens is a great thing,
I grant, if they send for
you; but not if they deem
youa pest. In good sooth,
I think it is but your small
size that screens you from
their’ wrath; Vand, acm
work, you will learn the
use of it when the frost
and snow come, and the
cold winds blow; while I
shall reap the fruits of my
toil.”

Hal Sandford now went
home for a week or so to
the farm; while Tom Mer-
ton was left with Mr. Bar-
low; and they went on
with their work at the
clumps day by day. When
they sat on the bench to
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 1g



eat their fruit, Tom made
sure that Mr. Barlow would
fead fo him. as’ Hal was
MOmrthete: for as tO) poor
‘Tom, he did not so much
as know how to spell. But
that day Mr. Barlow had
too much to do to read to
him: the same thing took
Place all the rest of the
week. Tom laid this to
heart, for it was a great
source of joy to him to
hear Hal’s tales.

At last the thought struck
him, that if he could but
read like Hal Sandford, he
should not need to ask Mr.
Barlow or Hal to do so
for him. “Why may not
I do what Hal Sandford
has done?” thought Tom.
“To be sure, he is sharp;
but he could not have
read if he had not been
taught I dare say I shall



‘soon learn to read as well

as, he. @hew tigjse thine
when he comes home, |
will ask him to teacn me.’

In ten days time Hal
came back from the farm,
and Tom said to him:

“ How came you to learn
to read?” |

—Flal—* Why, Mr. Bar-
low taught me to spell short
words first, and then to
read them.”

Tom.—‘ Do you think

you could teach me _ to
feag

Hal—‘To be sure I
could.”

-Tom then took up a
book for the first time in
his life, and on that day he
learnt more than most boys
could have done.

Days, weeks, and months
went on, and Tom took so
much pains with his task,
20 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





and was so quick at it, that
he now read out to Mr.
Barlow this tale in short
words :—

“A poor lark was kept
in a cage that hung ona
wall in a town that was full
of dust and dirt. One day
as he stood on his piece of
dead turf to sing out his
sweet song, a finch, who
by chance flew that way,
said: ‘How canst thou
sing so blithe a strain while
shut up in that vile cage?’
‘Finch, finch!’ rang out the
lark, in his clear tones,
‘Know you not that if I
did not sing while I am
shut up here, I should fail
to call to mind my song
when the time came for
me to get free, and mount
up to the sky!”

Mr. Barlow.—“‘So it is

meet for us to sing hymns



of praise while we are on
earth, to fit us for our flight
fo realms of plisse) a\aoul
have done well, my boy, to
learn to read. How glad
am I, for now you will not
find the time creep as it
did, and you will soon get
at all you want to know.”
“Ves” said Tom; “I make
no doubt that I know more
than most men do; and |
am sure, though there are
six black men in our house,
there is not one of them
that can read half as well
as I can.”

Mr. Barlow, whose face
grew grave at this vain
speech, said:

“Pray who has taught
them ?”

“No one that I know of,
sir,” said Tom.

“Then why should you
think it strange that they
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 21

do not know how to read
so well as you?”

Mr. -Barlow went on to
hint to Tom that he would
not have known how to
read, if his friend Hal
Sandford had not taught
him to do so, day by day,
and step by step.

as Why, Tom,” said he,
“this boast of yours is like
the Leap at Rhodes.”

Wop low. far
iaesitn

Mr. Barlow — ‘Well, the
man who made the boast
said it was two score yards.
This man, you must know,
had been in all parts of
the world, and told his
old friends, when he came
home, of the great feats
he had done. These Tales
they at first heard with
great glee, but in time they
found out that what he

Was



said was a mere boast, and
worse than this, that he
told lies, and when he once
did that he set less and
less guard on his tongue,
till he made those who
heard him stare. ‘How
comes it,’ said they, ‘that
this man, who, when at
home, could boast of no
great feats, should, when
he goes to strange lands,
do such great things ?’
One day he told them that
there was no place in the
world where men leapt like
the men at Rhodes. ‘But
Z beat them all,’ said he,
‘for I took a leap there of
two score yards. A grave
old man, who sat near him,
said, with a sneer, ‘Sir, if
your tale be true, think this
place to be Rhodes, and
take the leap once more.
But the man kept his seat,
22 . SANDFORD AND MERTON.

and had not a word more
to say.”

As the time had now
come for the boys to go

out to play, Tom took his)

bat and ball, and the ball
felltintan eld: of corn saat
far from where a poor boy
was at play. “Bring that
ball to me,” said Tom, in
a harsh voice. But the
boy took no heed of this,
but went his way, and left
the ball. Tom now spoke
in a tone still more gruff,
“Do you not hear what I
say?”

Boy.—* Yes, yes; J am
not deaf.”
ZTom.— “Oh, are you

not? then bring me my
ball.”

Boy—*“I don't choose
to.”

Tom.—“ Don't choose
to? If I come to you |



shall soon make you choose
it.”

Boy.—* May be you
may not.”
Lom—‘ If. 1 come on _

that side the hedge, I will
thrash you till I take all
the breath out of you; and
then we will see if ee
choose to or no.’

At this the boy gave a
loud laugh, which put Tom
in such a rage, that he
sprang to the top of the
hedge, from whence he
would have made a jump
so as to bring him in the
field where the boy stood,
but his foot slipt, and he
fell in .a wet ditch which
was full of mud. There
poor Tom lay for some
time, to kick from side to
side, in the vain hope that
he should get free. But

it was of no use, for his
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 23



feet stuck in the mud, or
slid off from the bank, and
' the mire clung to his smart
coat. He first lost his
right shoe, and then his
‘left, and his fine hat too
fell from his head, and was
spoilt by the mud. There
Tom must have lain for
some time, had not the
poor boy in rags come to
his aid. Tom could not
so much as look up at him
for shame, nor could he
say a word, but ran home
~ in such a plight, that Mr.
Barlow, who met him, had
fears that he had been hurt.
But when he heard the tale
from Tom, he could not
keep a smile from his lips,
and told him to look sharp
when next he went to play
at ball that he did not
thrash poor boys in rags.
When Tom had seen to



his dress, Mr. Barlow gave
Hal this tale to read out
to Tom :—

_ “A fine war horse broke
loose from his stall, and
sprang down the road with
a loud, shrill neigh. You
might hear him sniff the
air, as if the ground he
trod on was too poor for
such as he. An ass that
went on the same track,
with a load upon his back,
was told by the horse, in a
proud tone, that if he did
not clear the way for him
he should tread him in the
dust; so the poor ass got
out of his way as fast as
he could, and let him go
by.

“In course of time the
horse went to the war, and
was shot in the eye, which
spoilt his good looks; and
he was now of no use as
24 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



a war horse, so he was sent
to work on a farm.

“Stript of all his pomp,

he was met by the ass,

who said to him, ‘ Hey day,
is it you? Well, I must
say I thought your pride
would, soon or late, have a
fall ,

Hal thought that the
grand war horse must have
had ‘the. look. of a fool
when the ass came up to
him and saw him hard at
work on the farm!

“Yes,” said Mr. Barlow,
“much the same as Tom
did, when the poor lad
whom he meant to beat,
lent him his aid as he lay
in the ditch!”

« Sir,” said Tom, “I should
not have had the least wish
to beat him, but he would
not bring my ball.”

My. Barlow —“ Andwhat



right had you to make him
bring your ball 2”

Tom.— Sir, he was but
a poor boy; and I, you
know, am the son of a rich
man.”

Myr. Barlow. —“‘So, then,
all the sons of rich men
have a right to make all
poor boys do for them
what they choose ?”

Tom.— “To be sure, Site,
if they are in rags.’

Mr. Barlow. — Vhen, fi
your clothes should wear
out, and get worn to rags,
all rich men’s sons have a
right to make you do as
they please?”

Tom hung down his
head, and said: “But he
might as well have done it,
as he was on that side of
the hedge.”

Mr. Barlow.—* And so

I dare say he would have
‘SANDFORD AND MERTON. 25

done, if you had said, ‘1
will thank you to pick up
my ball, in a kind sort of
tone; but when boys speak
in a proud voice, they will
find few to serve them.
Still, I make no doubt that,
as the boy was poor, and
in rags, you took out your
purse to help him on in
the world.” ,

Tom.—“ No, that I am
sure I did not.”

Mr. Barlow—* May be

you had no purse with

you?”

Vo ico had
though; I had all this”
(here Tom took out a
pound).

Mr. Barlow —‘ Was it
that the boy was as rich
as you?”

Tom.— No, that he was
not, sir, I’m sure; for he
had no coat; his clothes



were all torn, and his shoes
were full of holes.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ So now
I see what makes the son
of a man of rank and
wealth; and that is, when
he has all he wants, and
more, and keeps it; when
he beats the poor if they
will not serve him, though
he pay them not for it; and
when they have done him
a great good, does them
no good in his turn.

“Let us not set the poor
at naught, Tom. Make
sure of this: we may be
poor in this world’s goods;
we may have no lands, no
gold, no fine clothes, no
great friends; but if we
have Zove in our hearts, we
have what is best of al]l—
we have what is worth
more than the whole world
with all its wealth.”
26 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





This speech from Mr.
Barlow found its way to
Tom’s heart, and he could
scarce keep the tears from
his eyes. Tom hada large
heart, but he had not been
taught to use it. He made
up his mind to give the
poor boy some new clothes
the first time he should see
him.

Tom did not have to
wait long, for that same
day he met him, and said:

“Boy, I want to know
why you are in rags; have
you no clothes but those
on your back ?”

“No, sir, I have not,’
said the boy. “There are
eight of us, and the rest
are as much in rags as |
am, but I think we should
not so much mind _ that
if we could get more to
eat.”



Lom—‘ And why have
you not more to eat?”

Boy—* Dad is ill, and
can't work, so that we must
all starve if God does not
take care of us.

Tom did not say a word
more, but set off at full
speed to the house, and
soon came back with a
loaf. of bread, and a whole
suit of his own clothes.

“Here, boy,” said Tom,
“you were kind to me, so
I will give you all this, for
I am rich, and-have more.”

The joy that shone out
from the face of the poor
boy made it look as bright
as the deed; and as to
Tom, he felt quite as glad
as the boy did, if not more
so, for it was the first time ©
in his life that he had gone
out of his way to do toa
friend what he would like
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 27





that friend to have done to
him, if he had been in his
place. He did not wait to
hear the poor boy’s thanks,
but went home with a strut,
and found Mr. Barlow at
the door of his house, to
whom he told all that he
had done.

Mr. Barlow said: “You
have done well to give the
boy the clothes, for they
were your own: but what
right had you to give my
loaf of bread 2”

Tom.—“Why, sir, the
boy said he stood much in
need of food, and was one
of eight, and all the rest
OH te

Mr. Barlow. —“ This
made it just and kind in
you to give what was your
own, but not that which
was mine. What should
you say if Hal were to

give some one all your
clothes, and not tell you of
mee

Tom.— | should not like
itvat alla

Mr. Bore We you
think it would be just and
Rights

Tom.—*‘ No, I don't think
it would.”

Mr. Barlow—* 1 do not
grudge the boy my loaf of
bread : far from it, for there
is no one to whom | would
so soon give a loaf of bread
as to that poor boy, who
had it in his heart to do
for you what he would
wish you to have done for
him, were he to lie and
kick in the mud of a ditch;
and this, too, when you
had been so proud to him.
Still, Tom, there is but one
name to give to this act of
yours, and that is the word
28 SANDFORD AND MERTON.





wee lie may vbe- you
have?) ieard that said, ‘He who would steal
an ounce would steal a
pound.’”

Tom.— “1 can't say I
have, nor should I think
it was true.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom of a boy who stole a
horn book from school, and
brought it home to his
aunt; yet she did not take
him to task for what he
had done, but gave him
some plums for his pains.
In course of time the child
grew up to be a man, and
need I say a thief? He
stole more and more, and
atx last was) caugntiin a2
great theft, for which he
was hung. A crowd came
to look on at the sad scene,
and with them the aunt of
the thief, who, with sobs





and tears, tore her hair and
beat her breast. The thief
saw her, and said to those
who were in charge of him,
“Give me leave to say a
word to my aunt.” When
she came up, he put his
face to hers as if he would
speak—and bit off her ear!
At this the aunt gave a
loud cry, and all who stood

near were struck with awe
at so base a deed. “Good
sirs, said the young man,
“it is she who is the cause
of my guilt; for if when
I stole a horn book from
school she had had the
sense to point out to me
that I had done wrong, |
should not have come to
this end.” °

“So you see,” said Mr.
Barlow, “if we do not
crush sin in the bud, it will
grow strong and crush us.’
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 2g

Just then a boy in rags
came up to Tom with some
clothes in his hand. His
eyes were black, as if he
. had had a fight.

“Here, sir, take back
your clothes,” said he; “and
I wish they had been left
in the ditch I took you out
of, and not been put on my
back. You will catch me
no more with such fine
things on, as long as I live.”

“What does all this

mean?” said Mr. Barlow
to the poor boy.

Sir salda tie.
Merton did all he could

to beat me when I would
not fetch his ball, but he
fell in the ditch, and then,
as | took him out, he gave
‘me these clothes here, all
out of good will I know.
But the worst of it is, I
was such a fool as to wear



them, and this made all
the boys hoot at me as |
went down the road. Jack
Sparkes was the first to
give me a blow. ‘Oh,’
says J) jare you) am that
sort of work?’ So I gave
him a punch in the ribs
which made him roar.
Then came up Bill Miles
and Jim Stubbs, and they
said I was ‘French;’ but I
don't choose them to call
me ‘French,’ and I don't
want the clothes, so I have
brought them back.”

Then Tom, who had not
said a word all this time,
spoke to the boy thus :—

le amiecure you mane
much hurt, for there is
blood on your dress, and
as for the clothes I gave
you, I grieve much to hear
that they should have done
you all this harm.”
30 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



As soon as the poor boy
had gone, Hal. and Tom
made a plan to buy some
clothes for him that would
suit his tank or life, So
the next day, at dawn, off
they set. ,

They had not. gone far
when they heard the noise
of a pack of hounds which
ran full cry some way. off.

“ What does it all mean?”
said Tom.

Hlal—* 1 know too well
what it means.) It, is the
squire and his dogs in
chase of a poor hare. As
I live, there she skulks,
poor wretch! I hope they
will not find her. If they
ask me, I will not tell them
which way she has gone.”

Soon the dogs came up,
and a man ona fine horse
said:

“Have youseenthe hare?”



Hal did not speak, so
the squire said once more,
in a loud tone:

“Which way has she
gone’:

Sir, lb) challa mot) tell
you, said Hal.

“Not tell me! sard@the
grand man, who then came ~
up to Hal to lash him with
his whip. “Nowe, sole:
young thief you, will you
tell me now?”

To which Hal said:

“Tf I would not tell you
then, I won't now, though
you should kill me.”

But the squire went on
like a brute with his lash,
cil ar loud? cay corm nels
help!” from Tom brought
a friend of the squire’s to
the spot at full speed, who
Salida

“For God's sake, Chase,
leave off! What are you
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 31







at? You will kill-the child
if you do not take care.”

“Tt will serve the young
dog right if I do,” said he,
‘for he has seen the hare,
and will not tell me which
way she ran.”

lalce weane. isaic lrs
friend, in a low voice; “I
know the child who is with
him is the son of a rich
man, who lives not far
off.”

Then he said to Hal:

“Why, my dear, would
you not tell the squire
which way the hare had
gone, if you saw her?”

Hal, who had scarce got
breath to speak, said:

“JT don't choose to let
the man kill the hare if I
cain inelp it

The squires friend said:

“This boy is quite a
sage, and it 1s a good thing



for you (that shewisybut a
child; though the growth
of his mind, and thestrength
of his will might shame a
man. But tell me, Chase,
aie you, ati alli! timesmco
fierce as this with the
poor?”

Just then the hounds
found the scent, and burst
out ine tulle cuy so) the
squire got on his horse,
and rode off with the rest.
When they were gone,
Tom came up to ask Hal
how he did, and flung his
arms round his neck.

“T feel sore,” said Hal,
“but that will go off soon.”

Zom.—‘ I wish I had had
a gun or a sword.”

Hal. Why, what would
you have done with it?”

Tom.—‘“1 would have
shot the wretch, of course,

or cut off his head. He
32 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

isa brute that he is, ito
beat you so.”

Hal—‘lf I had been a
man, he should not have
done it. I don’t think he
meant to kill me. But it is
all past now; and we ought
to try to love those that
hate us: hate the deed we
may, but not the man—as
Mr. Barlow says our Lord
Christ did. And then,

may be, the squire may



come to love me, and grieve
at what he has done.”

Tom— But how could
you bear the whip all that
time, and not cry out?”

Hal—‘ Why, to cry out
would do no good in such
a case as that, would it?
And I think you would
say this is not much, if you
knew what some boys have
to bear, and yet do not
flinch at it.”



CHAPTER Tif

THe next day, when the
boys went to their books,
their thoughts were so full
of the hunt, that Hal chose
this tale to read out :—

“A stag, that had lett
the hounds some way off,
came up to a man -who



was at work on a farm, to
ask if he would show him
some safe place to hide in.
The man bade him hide in
his own hut, which was
close by. So the stag lay
there quite still, and in a
short time up came the
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 33



squire and his train with| stole from the hut, but said

the hounds. The squire,
who caught sight of the
boor, drew back from the
wrest, and said: ‘Have you
seen the stag pass this
way?

““No,’ said the boor, in
a loud tone, ‘I have not.’

“At the same time—as
he had a wish to keep on
good terms with the squire
—he held out his hand
with a sly look, to point to
the hut where the stag lay;
but, as luck would have it,
the squire took no heed of
this sign, nor did he so
much as see it. Soon he
went to join the rest; but
though they rode through
the field where the hut
was, they did not see the
stag.

“As soon as they were
quite out of sight, the stag





not a word to the boor,
who now gave a loud call
to him.

““Wretch !’ said he, ‘you
owe your life to me; yet
when you leave my hut,
where I sent you to screen
you from your foes, you say
not one word of thanks!’

‘CO Nay, said tie, Stag,
‘you may make sure I
should fill your ears as full
of praise as my heart is
of joy, if your deeds had
been true to your words;
in esShont, ial hads Eno
through the door of the
hut, seen your hand play
false to your songue. ”

The boys then went to
the shop, and Tom laid
out a pound in clothes for
the poor boy, and said to
Hal: .“ You must take
them there, you know.”
34 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



“Phat J willt said’ Elal-
“but why will you not
take them ?” oy

Tom.—* Well it is not
for the child of a rich
squire to take such a load
as thats

Flal—“ Why, what harm
does’ it: “do, if he has
strength for it?”

fom: —“* 1) dont’ know :
but I think it is that he
may not look like the. poor
boys in the road.”

Flal—* Then he should
not have hands, feet, eyes,
ears, or mouth; for poor
boys have the same.”

Tom. —‘*“ No—no, he
must have all these, for
they are of use to him.”

Hlal—* And is it not of
use to do things for one's
self?”

Tom.—“Yes; but the

sons of the rich have all



these things done for
them.” |
ffal— Then I should
think it must be a bad
thing to be one of them.”

Lom.—* Why so?”

Flal—‘ Well, if all were
rich, things would not be
done: and then we should
all starve,”

Zom.—“ Starve.”

flal.—“ Yes: why, you
could not live, could you,
if you could not get bread?”

Tom.— “No, I -know
that.”

Flal— Bread, you know, |
is made from a plant that
grows in the earth, and we
call it wheat.”

Tom.—“ Why, then, I
would pick it and eat it.”

_Hal—* Then you would
have to work, you see.
But that would do no good,
for wheat is a hard grain,
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 35

and you would not like to
eat it.”

Tom.—“ No; but how
comes bread, then 2”
Hal-—“ Corn is sent to
a mill.”

Tom.—“I1 should like
to see a mill, that I may
know how they make
bread.”

Hal.—“ There is one
close by, and if you ask
M. Barlow he will go with
you, for he knows the man
who works it.”

Tom.—* Well, I will, for
I should much like to see
them make bread.”

Just then the two boys
heard acry, and they saw
a horse come down the
lane at full speed, and drag
a man with him:

Hal, who at all times
was glad to doa kind act,







hedge, which he saw the
horse meant to go through,
and just as the horse made
a stop that he might take
a good leap, Hal caught
hold of his head.

Two or three men soon
came up, and set Squire
Chase on his legs—for the |
squire it was. He gavea
wild stare round him, and
took breath; the farst use
he made of it was to swear
at the horse, and to ask
who it was that laid hold
of his head.

“Who ?” said his friend ;
“why, the self same boy
that you gave all those
blows to; and had it not
been for him, that skull
of yours would have had
more flaws in it than it has
now.”

The squire gave a glance

ran up to a gap in the;at Hal, with a face full of
36 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



shame. At length he put
his hand in his purse, and
gave him a pound. But
Hal drew up with a look
of pride (which was rare
with him), and would not
take it.

So the boys went their
way, and in a short time
they found the poor lad,
whose cot they were in
search of. Tom told him
that they had brought him
a suit of clothes, in which
there could be no fear that
the boys would call him
“rench. Ele then gave
all the young boys a suit
each, and the thanks from
the poor folk for his kind
gifts made Tom so full of
joy that he said, as he went
home, that he would take
care to spend all that Mr.
and Mrs. Merton gave
him in the same way.



In the space of a fo
days, Mr. Barlow took the
two boys to the mill, and
they saw all parts of it.
Tom was struck with the
great sails, which went
round and round with the
wind, and were made tc
move two large flat stone:
to bruise the corn.

“Well, to be sure! So
this is the way they make
bread.”

“Yes,” said Mr.- Barlow,
“but there is more to b.
done than this.”

As they went home, Ha_
said to Tom :—-

“So you sée, now, thai
if no men chose to work,
we should have no bread
fo «eat:

Tom. — “ Why
Does not corn grow
the ground ?”

Hlal.—“ Corn grows im

not!
iW!
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 37

the ground, but then first

you must plough the ground
to break it up.”

Tom.—“ How do they
plough 2”
_ Ffal.—“ Have you not
seen a plough drawn up
and down the fields in a
straight line? One man
drives, and one holds the

plough, and_ the . horse
pulls.”
Tom. —
Is that the way they break
up the ground for the
Comins |. |

Hal—* It is; and there's
a sharp kind of wedge
which turns the ground up
all the way as it goes.”

Tom.—* Well, and what
then?”

Hal—* Why, they sow
the seed in the ground, and
rake it, and then the seed
grows, and shoots up high,

and at last the corn gets

tt



ripe, and then they reap

lom.—“ How . strange,
to be sure! - I should like
to sow some seed, and see
it grow. Do you think I
could ?” :

Flal.—“ Yes, of course
you could; and if you will
dig the ground, I will go
to our farm and get you
some corn to sow.”

The next day Tom was
up with the lark, and went
to work and dug the ground
for some hours. He must
needs tell Mr. Barlow what
he had done, and said:
“Am I not a good boy
to work so hard to raise
corn?” :

Mr. Barlow.—“ That I
do not know till I hear
what use you will make of
it.”
38 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Tom—‘ Why, sir, I shall
send it to the mill and
have it ground, and then I
will get your cook to show
me how to make bread of
it; and then I will eat it,
and tell my nurse that I
ate bread out of corn that
I have sown in my own
piece of ground.”

Mr. Barlow. —* That will
be well done, but where
will be the great good for
you to sow corn for your
own self? That is no more
than all the folk round do;
_and were they not to do it
they would starve.”

Tom.—“ But then they
are not all rich men’s sons
like me.”

Mr. Barlow. —‘“ What
then? Must not the sons
of the rich eat as well as
the poor? And it is for
their own good that they



should know how to get

food.”

ZTom.— “Yes, sir; but
they can have the poor to
raise it for them, so that
they need not work at all.”

Mr. Barlow— How 1s
that ?”

Tom— Why, sir, they
pay the poor to work for
them, or buy bread of them
when it 1s made, as much
as they want.”

Mr. Barlow —“ Oh, Mr.
Tom; but what if the rich
man should lose all his
wealth, or go to strange
lands where hands are
scarce?”

Tom.—* Well, true, sir,
he ought to know how to
make it in case these things
should come to pass.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom of an old man who

had a field, and by his skil
SANDFORD AND MERTON. “39.

and care made it serve him
for food. At length he fell
ill, and he sent for his three
sons, that he might take
leave of them, and give
them his last charge. “ My
sons,’ said he, “ there is one
thing which with my last
_ breath I beg of you to do,
and that is to seek out a
rich gift which I have left
you, and which you will
find in my field”—but here
the poor old man’s voice
grew faint, and his head
sank down on his breast in
death. The sons were in
too much grief for their
loss to put in force that
which the old man had
bade them do, till want
drove them to seek in the
field for what they thought
must be a hoard of gold.
So they made a search in
it from end to end, till there



was not a clod that they
did not turn. At last they
gave it up.

“It is strange that the old
man should have set us on
this long search for a thing
that is not here,” said Jack.

“Come, said 1) Dick.
“since we have gone
through so much toil on
the field, we may as well
sow it with corn, and so
make the most of our
pains.”

At this bright thought
they set to work to sow
the grain; and in due time
a crop sprang up, five times
as large as those crops
which had grown there in
the old man’s life time.

The youths now = said
that ¢4zs must have been
the wealth the old man
meant, and that his wish
was that they should earn
"40 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

their bread by the sweat
of their brow.

Hal now came in from
the farm, where he had
been for a short time, and
brought with him the chick
which he took from the
claws of a kite, and which
had now got quite well,
and was so fond of Hal
that it ran by his side like
a dog, would perch on his
arm, sit in the breast of
his coat, and eat crumbs
out of his hand.

“How did you make it

so tame?” said Tom. ,

] lal ‘told’ him’ that he
took no pains to do so, but
that as the poor bird had
been so much hurt, he had
fed it at the farm house
from his own hand, and it
was that that made it so
tame.

Well) Hoa oddiiomke





sure | said) home coll
thought all birds flew off
when a man came near
them. ‘The fowls that are
kept at our place will not
let me touch them.”

Mr. Barlow.—‘ Why is
that, Tom ?”

Lom.—“ Well, they are
wild.”

Mr. Barlow—* And what
do you mean by the word
wild 2?”

Lom.—* When they will
not ‘let. you come near.
them.” i

Mr. Barlow.—‘ Then it
comes to this, does it? A
bird is wild when he will
not let you come near him,
and he will not let you
come near him when he is
wild. But I want you to |
tell me why he is wild.”

Tom.—* That I can’t say.

”

sir.
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 4)



Mr. Barlow.—* Birdsand
beasts would not be wild if
they did not /ear us, and
if we are kind to them
they get tame. I think if
‘a large beast of prey were
to come up to you, you
would not run from him.”

Tom.— “Should I not,
im strut Ahi tas fast as
my feet would take me.’

— Mr. Barlow —* And yet
you do not think that you
rank with the wild men?”

Tom gave a loud laugh
at this; and Hal then told
him that he knew a boy
who had a tame snake, and
when he ate his bread and
milk in the shade of a tree,
he would call the snake up
to him to drink out of his
bowl. |

Tom.—‘ And did it not
bite him ?”

Hal-—“No. He gave





him a pat now and then
with his spoon if he ate too
fast; but the boy had no
fear that he would bite
him.”

From that hour did Tom
make up his mind that he
would tame some pet. So
off he set at once, with a
large slice of bread in his
hand, in search of a young
bird of beast to pet of
bring up tame; and the
first thing he met was a
young pig, that lay in the
sun to bask. So Tom put
on a soft smile, to look
kind, and said, “ Pig, pig,
my dear pig, here is some
bread for you; come to
me, come!” But as the
young pig could not quite
judge of what Tom's views
were, it gave a squeak and
ran off to the old sow.

“You young wretch,”
Said: flom.... to. mune on
when I want to feed and
pet you; if you do not
know your best friend, |
must teach you. | So) he
sprang at the pig and
caught it by the leg with
his right hand, and held
out the large slice of bread
with the left. But still the
young pig knew not what
to make of it, and the
squeaks it gave were so
shrill and loud that they
soon brought the old sow
to the spot, with all the
rest of the young pigs at
her heels.

Tom held the sow in
too much fear to keep her
young one
while she was near, so he
let it go, and it ran just in
front of Tom, which threw
him down. Then the sow
came up, and trod on him

42 : SANDFORD AND MERTON.

might,

in his arms.





So there poor
Tom lay in the mud and
dint) lit, was) Lomis turn
now to be ina rage, so he
took the old sow by the leg.
and beat her with all his
At this, she and all.
the young pigs sent forth
grunts and squeaks that
rent the air- The old sow
led Tom through the midst
of a large flock of geese
that by chance fed near
the spot where all this took
place. You who read this,
may guess how a flock of
geese would add to the
noise; but worse than all,
the old goose, to save her
brood, gave Tom a sharp
peck with her bill, which
put him to so much pain
that his shrieks now fell in
with the shrill sounds all.
round him, and this brought
Mr. Barlow to the spot.

in her rage.
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 43



pele days) eaidy ie
vines all Mths 24

Tom, as soon as he could
speak, told Mr. Barlow
uate ewes al) his fault
and that he might trace it
to what he had told him.

“To what I have told
you?” quoth Mr. Barlow.

Tom. —“ You said, sir,
that to tame a bird or beast
I ought to give him food,
and be kind to him, and
now all this comes of it.”

Mr. Barlow.—“1 see
you have been in the mud,
but I hope you are not
hurt, and if it is from what
I may have said, I shall
- grieve all the more.”

lom.— “No, I am not
much hurt.”
Mr. Barlow. —“ Well,

then, now we will come
home, that you may wash

talk of what you did with
the pigs and the geese by
and by.”

When Tom came down
from his room, Mr. Barlow
said: “ My dear boy, what
could be the cause of the
sad plight I found you in?
J] am sure | hope that 1
was not the cause of it;
but | dent *think= that I
told you to catch pigs by
the hind legs.”

Jon —- SNoe sir” put
you said that to feed wild
things was the way to

make them love me, and
that then I could tame
them, and so I went to
feed the pig with a slice
of bread.”

Mr. Barlow.— But it
was not my fault that you
did it the wrong way.
The pig did not know

off the mud, and we will} what you meant, and so
44

SANDROFD AND MERTON.



when you went to seize
hold of him, he did all he
could to get free, and the
old sow who heard the
cries of her young one
came to. help him.”

Mr. Barlow then told
Tom that, in days long gone
by, a Greek slave wrote
a tale to prove that it is
not wise to play with edge
tools, as Tom had just
done. But this slave did
not take “a boy, a sow,
and her young one” to set
forth this truth, but he took
“a wolf and a crane,” and
this was the tale: “A wolf
had a bone that stuck in
his throat, and gave him

so much pain that he ran

with a howl up and down,
to ask all whom he met to
lend him a kind hand, and
said he would give a large
sum to bird or beast who



would take it out. At last
a crane, who had heard of
the bribe, came up, put
her long bill down the
wolf's throat, and drew out
the bone. The crane then
said, ‘Now, where is the
fee which you spoke of?’
‘Wretch, that you are!’ said
the wolf, ‘to ask for more
than this—when you have
put your head in a wolf's
mouth, and brought it safe
Out!

As Tom had cause to
know what the sound of a
squeak of a pig was, to
cheer him up Mr. Barlow
then told him of a man
who said he could show a
trick; so he stood on a
stage, when all at once he
thrust down his head, and
gave out a sound like the
squeak of a pig. This he
did so well that all thought
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 48



he had brought a young
pig in his cloak; but though
a search was made, they
did not find one.

A rough man from a
farm, who had come to
look on, said, “Faith, I
can do this as well as he.”
So the next night they
were both to try their skill.
A. great crowd came. to see
them, and the men went
the stage. One of them
gave his squeak like a pig,
which brought a shout of
praise, as it had done the
first night. The boor's
turn then came, and he
did hide a young pig in his
cloak, but though he made
it squeak by a hard pinch
on the ear, all gave the
palm to the first man, and
they sent the boor off the
stage with a loud hiss.

Hal and Tom now told





Mr. Barlow that they meant
to build a house.

Mr. Barlow.— To build
a house? And have you
got a stock of bricks and
lime?”

Zom. —‘‘ No, no, Hal
and I can build a house
that will not want bricks
or lime.”

Mr. Barlow. —* What,
is it to be made of cards
then 2”

Tom.—“ Dear sir! do
you think me such a child
as to wish for a card house?
No, we mean to build one
fit to live in. You said we
ought to know how to do
all things, lest we should
get poor, or be cast on some
wild part of the earth where
there are no men to work
for us; in that case you see,
sir, we could build our own
house.”
46

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



Mr. Barlow. — “ What
is it to be built with, then,
our

Tom. —‘ The first things
we shall want -are wood
and: al axe.’

Mr. Barlow.-—““ Wood |
can give you, and loads of
it, but do you know how
tO tise an axe?’

Tom.—“ No, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. — “Then I
fear to let you have one, as
you might get much hurt
by it. But if you tell me
what wood you want I will
cut down the trees for you.”

Tom. —“ Thank you,
thank you.”

Mr. Barlow then went to

work, and cut down poles’

as thick as a man’s wrist,
eight feetlong, which the
boys made sharp at the
end to force them in the
ground; and so mad was





Tom to build a house, that
he had quite lost sight of
the fact that he was “the
son of a rich squire,” and
went on with the work with
all his might.

Mr. Barlow.—“ Where
shall you place your house?”

Tom.—‘ This will be the
spot for it, just at the foot |
of this hill, for here we
shall be warm and snug.”

Hal took the stakes, and
drove them in the earth,
and made the house ten
feet long and eight feet
wide. When this was
done, he and Tom took
the small sticks of wood
which they had cut from
the stakes, and wove them
in with the poles, so.as to
form a sort of fence; and
this took them some days
foo. 2 |

To give them heart while
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 47

they went on with this slow
work, and to show them
that if we want to make
sure that a thing is done,
we must work at it with
our owz hands. Mr. Bar-
low told them the tale of a
lane thaty had a mest of
young birds in a field of
corn, and one day two men
came to look at the state
of the crop. “ Well,” says
one of them to his son, “ I
think this wheat is ripe, so
now go and ask our friends
to help us to reap it.”
When the old lark came
back to her nest, the young
brood told her in a great
fright what they had heard.
“So they look to their
friends for help,” said she.
“Well, I think we have no
cause for fear.” ey
The next day the man



came; and as he saw no
friends in the corn field, he
bade his son fetch his kith
and kin to help him.

This the young birds
heard, and told it to the
old one when she came
home to her nest.

“Pear not) cquothecher
“TI do not see that men go
much out of their way to
help those that are of the
same kith and kin.”

In the course of a day
or two, as the man found
that no one came, he said
to his son, “ Hark ye, John!
we will trust to none; but
you and I will reap the
corn at dawn of day.”

“ Now,” said the old lark,
“we must be gone; tor
when a man takes his work
in his own hands, it is sure
to be done.”
j %

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

CHAPTER IV.

Wuen Hal and Tom
went back to their work
they found, to their great
grief, that while they were
in doors, a storm of wind
and rain had blown down
their new house.

“So this is the end of
all@vour = toils said) dom
with his eyes full of tears.
When Hal went to look at
the stakes that the wind
had blown down, he found
that the cause of it all was
that they did not go so
deep in the ground as they
should have done; so that
when the wind blew on the
flat side of the wall, they
had not strength to bear it;
but Mr. Barlow struck the
tops of the stakes (which
the boys could not reach),

and drove them in so firm ~
that, let the wind blow as
hard as it might, they
would be quite safe.

The next thing to be
done was to put a roof on
—for till now, their house
had none; so they put long
poles to rest on the tops of
the four walls, and on these
they laid straw; and they
thought now that the house
would be snug and dry.

By and by the rain came
down hard on it, and the
boys were proud to think
how dry and warm it kept
them: but at last, the straw
that was on the top got
wet through; for as their
roof was flat, there was no
way for the rain to run off.
At last they could stand it


Hal and Tom resi by the Fire in the poor Dame’s Cot.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

no more, and went in doors
to talk of what they should
do. |

“The top should have
more straw,’ said “Tom.

“INio said lal ““that’s
not it; it must be that our
roof is too flat; for you
know all roofs slant, that
the rain may run off from
them.” |

The next day they set to
work at a new roof, with
straw for a thatch; and that
the wind should not blow
it off, they stuck bits of
stick from peg to peg, to
keep it in its place.

When this was done,
they found that the walls,
which were made of twigs,
did not keep the wind out;
so to cure this, they put
wet clay on each side of
them.

“Well,” said Mr. Barlow, |



49

“you have been as much
put to it to know what to
do, as the bees were when
they made a wax tomb for
their guest.”

Tom.— “What bees were
those, sir.”

Mr. Barlow —“\ did not
see the hive, but this took
place sin-= teal lite, Uite

|guest I speak of was a

snail, that made his way
through the hole of a hive
which was full of bees,
where in a great rage they
flew round him and stung
him to death. But soon
they found that the snail,
when dead, was all the
more a foe than when he
had life, for the air in the
hive was not fit to breathe. -
What was to be done?
He was of too great a bulk
for the bees to turn him
out, so they had to leave
50 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



the hive, and they found to
their cost that they ought
to have let the poor snail
just crawl out as he had
come in.

“The bees made a long
search for a new home, but
in vain; so they went back
to their old hive, to see
what could be done with
the dead snail; and in the
end, they all set to work to
build a case of wax round
him, so as to close him in a
sort of tomb, and thus they
made the air of the hive
as sweet as the stores that
were in the combs.”

Tom’s wheat, which he
had been to watch day by
day, had now sprung up;
and when he saw the green
blade, he said, “Now, I
think we could live if we
were cast on some lone
isle where there were no





men to be found to work
for us. Here's a house to
screen us from the sun and
rain, and we _ shall soon
have corn for food.”

Tom thought that it
would add much to the ©
charms of their house if it
had some plum and pear
trees near it, to screen it
from the hot sun, and yield
fruit; so Mr. Barlow sent
Tom to make choice of
two fine strong ones. The
boys took their spades to
dig large holes to put them
in, and broke the earth up
that it might he light on
the roots, and then put
them in. Tom held the
tree while Hal threw the
earth on the roots, and
trod it down with his feet.
Then they stuck large
stakes in the ground, to

tie the trees to, for fear a
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 1



high wind should blow
them down.

At the side of the hill
there was a brook, that
burst forth not far from the
spot where the new house
Stood.) ltunan down in a
small stream, and the boys
set hard to work for some
days to form asort of ditch
to bring the stream down
to the roots of the trees,
for ther aim owas hot and
the ground dry, and they
thought their trees. might
die for want of rain.

“On the bank of just
such a brook as this, and
on the side of just such a
hill, did the poor lamb meet
the wolf,” said Hal.

“What lamb, and what
Ole nsaidilom: <“Do
tell me!”

“Well,” said Hal, “last
night I read of a wolf who







went to quench his thirst
aba Clear brook tat tan
down a hill, and by chance
a young lamb stood there
who would stray from the
flock» The (wolf had) a
wish to eat her, but felt
some qualms; so fora plea,
he made out that the lamb
was his foe. “Stand off
from the bank, sir,’ said he,
‘for you tread it down,
which makes the stream
thick, and all I can get to

drink is foul.’

“The lamb said, in a
mild tone, that she did not
see how that could be, for
the brook ran down hill to
her from the spot where he
stood.

“<«But, said the wolf,
‘how dare you drink at
aul tll bayer nadie,
fle ee
“Then the poor lamb
52 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



told him that as yet her
dam’s milk was both food
and drink to her.

«Be “that as, iv imay,.
said the wolf, ‘you are a
bad lamb, for last year I
heard that you spoke ill of
me and all my race.

“Vast year, dread: sir,
said the lamb; ‘why I have
not yet been shorn, and at
the time you name I was
not born.

“The wolf, who found
_ that it was of no use to tell
lies, fell in a great rage,
and as he came up to the
lamb he said: ‘All you
sheep have the same dull
kind of face, and how is
one to know which is
which? If it was not you,
it was your dam, and that
is all the same, so I shall
not let you go hence. He
then flew at the poor meek





lamb and made a meal of
her.”

As the day was fine, Tom
and Hal took a stroll ina
wood, and went so far that
they were glad to sit down
to rest. By and by a poor
dame came up to them.

“My dears,” said she,

“you seem to have lost

your way, come and rest
in my cot; and as my girl
has gone to milk the cows,
may be you will sit there
a while by the side of my
fire, and wait till she brings
you some warm milk from
the cow.”

“No, said Tom, “we
have not lost our way, but
we shall be glad to rest in
your house and drink some
milk.” So they went in
and sat by a fire made of
turf. Tom, who had not
till now seen such a fire,
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 53





said, “ What is it made!

of?”

The old dame told him
that it was a peat fire, and
made of the roots of heath
and turf which they dig
from the waste land, and
then put it in the sun to
bake. |

“How can you _ roast
your joints of meat at such
a fire as this?” said Tom.

“We do not eat meat in
our house,” quoth the good
dame; “but we are glad if
we can get a bit of fat pork
to boil in a pot of greens;
and we bless God that we
fare so well, for there are
lots of poor souls as good
as we, who can scarce get
a bit of dry bread.”

The girl now came in
with a bowl of warm milk
from the cow, and a slice
of brown bread for each.

At last the boys said
they must go home, so
Tom: gave \ithescamenva
crown for all that she had
done for them.

“No, bless you, my dear,”
said she, “I would not take
it: fromy youumom alll the
world; for though my good
man and I are poor, we can
give a mess of milk to
two young things like you,
when they want it.”

So both the boys gave

her their thanks, and left.

But just as they went out
of the door, two men came
in, and said to her, “Is
your name Stiles ?”

fOVies alts, ausatal
dame.

“Then here’s a writ from
Mr. John Gruff,” said one
of them, “which I have to
serve Mr. Stiles with; and
if he does not pay the

the
54 :

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



debt, which is twelve
pounds, and all costs, we
shall take your goods and
your stock and sell them to
pay it.”

“Nay, quoth the dame,
“this could not have been
meant for Stiles, for he has
no debts, save for the rent
of our house and farm, and
I know he has made it up
for half a year.”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Stiles,
_ we are right, and when he
comes in we will talk with
him; and in the mean time
we can make out our list
of goods in the next room
while we wait, in case Mr.
Stiles should not have cash
to pay the debt with.”

Stiles soon came home.
“Well, my dear,” said he,
“what have you got for me
to eat and drink ?”

“Ok, my. poor Ned!”



said she, “here is sad news
for you; but | think it can
scarce bel tue) that ou
owe a large sum to Mr.
John Gruff.”

At the sound of this
name, the man gave a Start,
and his face, which till now
had been red, grew all at

once as pale as death. |

“Sure, Ned, it can’t be
true?”

“Nay,” said Stiles, “I
do not know to a pound
or two how much it was;
but when Frank Home lost
all he had, I was bound
for him to keep him from
jail, and when he went to
sea, he told me he would
send me all he could spare
from time to time, but you
know it is now three years
since he went, and we have
nat once heard of him.” |

Then the poor wife burst
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 55



out in loud grief, and told|cries; and Hal, too, took

him where the two men
were, and what they had
come to the house for..

At this, Ned's face grew
red with rage, and the first
thing he did was to seize
an old sword which hung
on the wall, and then said:
“Tt shall not be, I will die
first!” He then drew the
sword, and would have run
to the room where the men
stood, but his wife fell down
on her knees to him, and
caught hold of his arm to
beg of him not to stir a
step. “It would be a sin
in you to use that sword,”
said she; “what if you
were to kill the men? Put
up the sword, Stiles, for
my sake, if not for theirs.”

This made him pause,
and his young ones hung
round him with sobs and



hold of his hand, which
he made wet with tears,
till at last Stiles sat down,
hid his face in his hands,
and said, “God’s will be
done.”

Tom, though he had not
said a word all this time,
now gave his young friend
a look, which was as much
as to say, Come with me;
and then went out of the
house, and took the road
which led to Mr. Barlow’s.
As he went, his thoughts
were so full of the scene
he had just left, that he
did not speak; but when
he got home, he went at
once to Mr. Barlow and
said: I must beg of you
to send me to my own
home at once.”

Mr. Barlow said: “Why,

my young friend, how is
56 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

this? Do you wish to
leave me?”
“No: su, said Pom, 1

have not the least wish to
leave you; far from it, for
you have been so kind to
me, that I shall feel it as
long as I live: but I want
to go home, and at once,
for I have a thing to tell
them at home which I am
sure you will like to hear
of.”

Mr. Barlow did not press
Tom to say what it was,
but sent him home.on his
horse, with a man to take
care of him.

It gave great joy to Mr.
and Mrs. Merton to see
‘ their son, but Tom’s mind
was so full of the scene
which took place at the
farm, that he did not lose
much time, but said at once
to Mr. Merton: “You

told me some time since
that you were rich, and
that if I were good I should
be rich too. Now will you
please to give me a large
sum to take back with
me!”

Mr. Merton.—‘ Yes, to
be sure. How much. do
you want—a pound?”

Tom —* No, a great deal
more than that.”

Mr. Merton.—“ Let us
see first how much?”

Tom then told him of
the sum that he meant to
help Stiles with, but did
not say what use he should
put it to.

“Bless the boy!” said
Mrs. Merton, “I am sure
Mr. Barlow has taught him
to spend.”

Tom.—“No; Mr. Bar-
low does not know of it.”

Mr. Merton —‘ But what
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 57







can a child at your age|can you want with all this?”

want with such a sum?”

Tom.—‘‘ Well, I do not

wish to name the use I.

mean to put it to, but I am
quite sure that it will give
you great joy when you
do come to hear of it.”

Mr. Merton.—“ That I
Gomouemmcie (=

Tom.— “ But if you will
please to let me have it, |
will pay you from time to
time.” !

Mr. Merton —“ How can
you pay me such a sum as
that?”

Tom. — Why, you know
you give me new clothes,
and fill my purse now and
then, and if you will but
let me have the sum I ask
for, I will want no more
clothes or cash till I have
made it up.”

Mr. Merton.—“ But what



Tom.—‘ Pray wait a few
days and you shall know,
and if I make a bad use
of it, don’t trust me as long
as I live, that’s all.”

Mr. Merton was much
struck with his son’s tone,
and as he was both rich
and good, he said, “ Yes, I
will give it to you.’ So
he put the whole sum in
Tom’s hand, and told him
that he must let him know
what use he had put it to,
and that if he did not like
the way in which it was
spent, he would trust him
no more.

Young Tom was half
mad with joy at the thought
that Mr. Merton had put
his ¢rust in him; and said,
I hope you will let me go
back now with Mr. Bar-

low’s man.
58 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

When he got back, Tom's
first care was to hunt up
his friend Hal, and ask
him to come with him to
poor Stiles’ house. So the
two boys set off with all
speed. As they came near
to the house they heard
loud sobs, which came from
the dark end of the room,
where sat the poor dame.

Tom took her by the
hand, and said: “You were
kind to me just now, and
gave me bread and milk
when I was half dead with
heat and thirst, so I have
made up my mind to be
kind to you.”

“God bless you, my
child!” she said; “but you
could not help me if you
would.” |

Tom.—‘* How do you
know that?”

Mrs. Stiles. —“1 know



you would do all you could,
but our goods are to be
sold if we do not pay the
debt; and ¢4at—oh! that
we could not do; so my
dear Ned and all our young
ones must be sent out of
doors, and none but God
can help us!”

_ Tom's heart was too full
to wait, so he took out his
bag of gold and threw it
on her lap. “Here, take
this, will you?” said he, .
“and pay your debt with
LES

. The poor soul gave a
wild stare at Tom, wrung
her hands, and fell back in
her chair. When Stiles, .
who had been all the while
in the next room, saw her,
he ran up to her, caught
her in his arms, and said,
“Why, Ann, what ails
you?” But she sprang from

—e
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

him, and fell down on her!
knees to Tom to give a
kiss on his foot. Stiles
thought that his wife had
gone mad, and the babes
ran up to her to pull her
by the gown, and _ hide
their face in it. At the
sight of them she said:
“You young rogues! why
don't you join with me,
and give thanks to this

dear child who has kept

you from death?” At this
Stiles said: “Why, Ann,
you must be mad! What

can this young boy do for
us that will keep our babes
from. death ?” |
“Oh, Ned!” said she,
“T am not mad, though I
may seem to be. But look
here, Ned! Look here!
see what the good God
has sent us by the hands
of this dear child, and ¢hen



59



fell ime it alain mad’ or
not!”

As she said this she
brought to view the bag
of gold, and, at the sight,
Stiles’ look was quite as
wild as hers had been, but
Tom went up to him, shook
him by the hand, and said,
“T give it to you, so I hope
you will be set free from
your debt.”

Sobs of joy from the
poor man now came loud
and fast, but this was too
much for Tom, he could
not stand it, so he and Hal
ran out of the house as fast
as they could go, and were
soon out of sight.

When they got home
they found it was the hour
for school, and Mr. Barlow
gave this tale to Tom to
read out :—

« A man in the East, who
60 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



sold doves, threw down
some grains of rice in a
wood, and flung a net on
the top of them in such a
way that it could not be
seen in the grass, and then
hid close by to watch.
Soon the king of the wild
doves—Smooth Neck by
name— flew up to the spot
with his train, and said:
“Whence can all these
grains of rice come in this
wild wood? Let it be
seen to, eat them not yet.”
But the doves, drawn by
greed, set to work to pick
them up, and they were
all caught in the net. ©

| bla | esaid) ASmoorn
Neck, ‘I thought this might
be the work of a foe. You
would not wait, as I told

you to do, and this has.

come of it. Now, hear the

plan which I have in hand. |



Small things may work out
great ends, for we know
that a large beast may be
bound with straws, when
made firm in a ¢hick rope.
Now all put forth your
whole strength af once and
take up the net, then fly
off with it.

.““This they did, and the
man who had set the snare
was much struck to see his
net borne off by the birds.

“«This is well,’ said one
of the doves; ‘but what are
we to do now with these
toils on our feet?’

“Smooth Neck © said:
‘We are in an ill plight, but
Gold Fur, the king of the
mice may help us.’

“So he went in search
of Gold Fur’s hole, which
had scores of small doors
that led to it, deep down
in the ground.
. SANDFORD AND MERTON. 61



“The good mouse came
out to meet them, and when
he had heard their tale, he
said: ‘As long as my teeth
do not break, I will gnaw
the nets for you. So with
his sharp teeth he cut the
snare, and set them all free.

“Then with great joy,
the king of the doves bent
low his smooth neck to
him, and said: ‘How much
do we owe to you? Think
of us as your slaves for life,
for a friend in zeed is the
best friend of all.’”

Mr. Barlow, Tom, and
Hal now went out for a
walk. They had not gone
far, when they saw three
men, who led three large
bears by a chain, and a
crowd of girls and boys
ran with them. On the
head of each of, these bears
sat an ape, which now and



then gave a grin. Tom,
who till now had not seen
a bear or an ape, thought it
fine fun when the bear rose
on his hind legs as he was
bid, as well as to dance to
the sound of bells. Mr.
Barlow and the boys then
went on their way, but
soon they saw a crowd of
men who ran with all their
might, and they found that
one of the bears had made
a bound, snapt his chain
in two, and run off witha
herce growl to the spot
where Tom and Hal stood.
Mr. Barlow, who had a

stout stick in his hand, and
was a brave man, saw this,
and bade Tom and Hal
stay where they were; he
then ran up to the bear,
who stood still as if he
would bite him, but Mr.

Barlow struck him two or
62

three hard blows, spoke to
him in a hoarse voice, took
old: sof ithe | endisof whic
chain, and so made the
huge beast give in. By
and by, the man who kept
the bear came up, and Mr.
Barlow gave him the chain,
and with it a charge that
he ought to keep a sharp
look-out on so fierce a beast
as a bear.

All this time the boys
had stood some way off
quite still, to look on. But
as luck would have it, the
ape that had sat on the

head of the bear was
thrown off when that great
brute broke loose, and Tom,
who thought he would be
as brave as Mr. Barlow,
ran up and took hold of
the string to which the ape
was bound. But as the





SANDFORD AND MERTON. .

ape had no wish to be
caught, he gave a snap at
‘Tom’s arm, and made his
teeth meet in the flesh of it.
Tom would not let him go,
but beat him with a stick
which he had in his hand, ©
till the ape, who saw he
had a strong will to deal
with, at last gave in, and
let Tom lead him.

When they. got back to
Mr. Barlow's they found
Mr. Merton's groom at the
gate, with a horse, to take
Tom home for a few days.
As soon as Tom got there,
Mr. and Mrs. Merton
threw their arms round his
neck with joy to see their
dear boy once more. But
though Tom told them of
all things else, he did not
say a word of the sum he

gave to Ned Stiles.
SANDFORD AND MERTON. | 63

CHAPTER V.

Tue next day they. all

three went to church, but
they had not sat long in
their pew when they found
that all eyes were cast

on Tom. Mr. and Mrs..

Merton knew not what to
make of this, but would
not, of course, ask what it
all meant till they had left
the church. Then, as they
went through the gates,
Mr. Merton said to Tom:
“What did all the folk
stare at you for, my boy?
And they had so much to
say, too, as they stood to
gaze at you. What did it
all mean?” !
Tom had no time to tell
him, for just then poor
Ann Stiles ran up to him,

fell down at his feet, and

said he had, “through the
grace of God, set them all
free. Yes, dear child, I,
my good man, and our
babes all owe our lives to
you. We have naught
but thanks to give you,
save a wish that when it is
time for your dear soul to
soar up to the next world,
this good deed may help
you in your flight.”

All that Mr. and Mrs.
Merton could do was to
stand and gaze at what
went on; but when, at
length, they found that
Tom’s gift was the cause
of it all, they felt as much
as the poor dame did, and
they threw their arms round
the young boy’s neck and
wept.
64

Their hearts were now
too full for them to think
of the crowd that stood
round, till at last they went
to their coach to hide the
tears of joy which ran
down their cheeks. Few
can judge what they felt
when they were made to
know how Tom’s heart had
spread since his stay at
Mr. Barlow’s, for they saw
that his mind, his heart,
and his health had _ all
grown strong by it.

No one saw Tom fret at
Mr. Barlow's, as he had
done at home, for since he
had had Hal to 4ve and
give way to, his thoughts
had been so much drawn
off from se/f that it made
a new life of it. Nor was
he the worse for the cold,
which was now so great

that the ponds were a mass

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

of ice, and the earth was
bare of food for bird and
beast.

When Tom came back
to Mr. Barlow’s, the first
thing he did was to go and
look at his new house; but
to his great grief he found

‘that his choice plum tree,

from which he was in hopes
of so much fruit, had been
cut at the root by the teeth
of the hares, and was dead.
Tom ran to Mr. Barlow in
a great rage to tell him what
“those vile hares had done.”

Mr. Barlow—\ grieve
to hear that your tree is
dead, but it is now too late
to help it,”

Tom. —“ Yes, but you
may have the rogues all
shot, so that they should
not get to our pear tree,
which you know, sir, is not

far off.”




The Bear snaps his Chain, but is caught by Mr. Barlow.
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 65



Mr.
should have had a fence
put round your tree to
save it from the hares.
And as all things are so
much in want of food now
that this hard frost has set
in, of a truth, I know not
what is to be said if they
come too near for it, as the
poor things must eat.”

Tom said he did not like
this cold time of the year
Anealus

Pe Viellie ssatdeeelale “1
could tell you of a land,
which is far north, where
there are zo trees, and
where the men know not
how to make bread, and
have no sheep, hogs, or
COWS.

Tom.—* What then have
they to live on?”

FTal— They have large

stags, which are tame, and |



Barlow.—“ You|\live in herds; and when

the snow is on the ground
they scratch it and find a
sort of moss which grows
there; and when the frost
is too hard for this, the
men kill part of the herd
and live on the flesh, which
keeps good a long time in
so cold aclime. The skins
of the deer they spread on
the ground to sleep on, and
make warm coats of them.
They have but one kind
of house, and that is made
of poles, all of which meet
at the top, where they leave
a small hole to let the smoke
through. On these poles
they lay the skins of deer,
turf, or the bark of trees,
and the huts have a small
hole in the side through
which they creep to get in.
They do not keep long to
one spot, but from time to
56 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

time they take down their
house, pack it in_ their
sledge, and set it up in
some new place.”

Tom.—‘ Do they draw
the sledge with their own
hands ?”

Flal.—“\ know I shall
make you stare, Tom, when
I tell you that the deer
draw it for scores of miles
at a time, and they go at
full pace on the snow, which
is as hard as a board.”

Tom.— “This makes me
think I should like to go
there.”

Hal— Well, don't pack
up your trunk till you have
heard the rest. There are
no fruit trees, think of that!
no fields, no roads, no inns
to sleep at, no shops; bears
and wolves prowl all round
them to prey on the herds

of deer, 90 that the men!

have to hunt them: to do
this they fix a large piece
of flat board four or five
feet long to the soles of
their feet, and thus they
run onthe snow. They kill
the bears with the shaft from
their bow, save when they
find them or the wolves in
their dens, and then they
use spears. When they
have put a bear to death,
they boil the flesh in a pot,
and their friends all come
to the feast. They melt
down the fat, and then sit
round the flame and tell
tales of the hunt.”
ZTom.—“ Poor men! I
should think such a life
must soon kill them.”
Mr. Barlow. — “ Have
you found then that those
who eat and drink most
have the best health ?”
Tom. —“ No, I think
not; for there are two or
three men who come to
dine with us, who eat such
huge plates of meat that
you would say they must
burst, and these men have
lost the use of their limbs;
their legs swell as big as
their waists, and they seem
as though they could scarce
put their feet to the ground.
When their coach drives
_up to the door, two or three
of the grooms come to help
them out: and these fat
men talk of no one thing
but of what they eat and
drink.”

Mr. Barlow.—“Do you
find this to be the case
with the poor ?”

Tom.—‘ No.”

Hal and Tom set off for
a stroll in a wood, and they
went so far that they lost
their way. The wind blew

SANDFORD AND MERTON. 67



hard, and the snow fell so
fast, that their track could
not now be seen, so they
stood in the stem of an old
oak, which just held them.

“What shall we do?”
said Tom, while the tears
fell fast from his eyes.

“Do?” said Hal: “we
must wait here till it clears
up, and then we must find
our way home.”

Tom.— But what if it
should zo¢ clear up?” said
Tom, with more tears.

Hal =e Welle inesthat
case we must make our
way through the snow, or
stay here.” :

Tom.—‘ But oh, how |
dread this lone wood! If
we had but a fire to warm
us !”

Hal.—“ Well, I have
heard that if you strike a
piece of flint on steel, a
68 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

spark will come. I have
a large knife here, and if
I could but find a piece
of flint, I could. strike
fire with the back of it;
so let us try what we can
do.” )

. The boys made a search
for some flint, and found
some, though as the snow
lay so thick, it cost them
some pains. Hal then took
the flints and struck them
with all his might, till they
were quite thin bits, and
out of these he chose a
sharp piece, which he hit
with the back of his knife.
oaphis «said bal tewill
serve to light a fire with.”
He then got all the dry
leaves he could find, which,
when put in a heap with
small bits of wood, made
a blaze from the sparks

which he had struck. But



it was in vain, for the leaves
were too damp to burn up,
so the boys thought that as
they could get no warmth,
the best thing for them to
do was to make their way
home as well as they could.
At each step Hal sank up

to his knees in the snow.

At length he saw a heap

of dry wood that had been
left with fire in it. “See,
here’s luck!” said he. “Look,
here is a fire that wants
but some wood to make it
blaze up.”

This it soon did, and as
the two boys stood there
to warm their cold limbs,

lal saidi, 12th Rom
Merton, you know not
what want is! But I know

some poor boys who have
no fire to warm them, and
no clothes to put on, yet
they do not cry in a year
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 69



so much as you have done
this half hour.”

Just then who should
come up but the poor boy
to whom Tom gave the
clothes! Hal said to him,
“Can you show us the
way out of the wood?”

“Ves, to be sure [ can,”
said Jack (for that was his
name); “but who would
have thought that I should
see you here at this time of
night, in all this snow and
wind! If you will come
to our cot, I will run to
tell Mr. Barlow you are
safe, for he said that he
could not find you.” So
Jack led the boys to his
home. “Dad,” said he,
“heres Mr. Merton, who
was so good to us all; he
has lost his way, and is
well nigh dead with cold.” |

So the man rose from



the side of the fire, and
bade Tom and Hal sit
down, and the dame went
to fetch a large log of wood
to make a bright blaze,
and said: “There, young
sirs, we can make you
warm, and I wish we could
ask you to sup with us, but
1 fear what we poor folk
eat would be too coarse
for such as you.”

‘“Notiso said Mom, “for
I have had so long a fast,
that I feel as if I could eat
the chair I sit on.” Then
the dame went to broil
some meat for Hal and
Tom; in the mean time
the old man took up his
book and laid it with care
on the shelf.

Tom saw this, and said,
“What book is that?” The
old man told him it was

the Book of God’s Word.
7O



“ Ah, sir,” said he, “you are
but a child, and as yet too
young to think of such
things, but when. I am cast
down, and my heart is
faint, the balm of that book
is sweet; it works like a
good draught, and heals
and binds up the wounds
of the soul. When I am
low I go to it, and it is
‘sure to do me good. God
took care that in his Word
man should find balm, and
oil, and wine, to cheer him,
and drive off his grief, and
give him joy and peace of
mind in its room. There
are words fit to speak peace
to us when we stand in
need of it, words to cheer
us, words to guide us in
the right path, and words
to point out and bid us
shun the wrong path. Oh,
if we go to that book cz



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

faith, we shall be sure to
get all this good from it!”

By this time the kind
dame had spread a coarse
but clean cloth on a board
as white as snow, on which
she put the meat and the
brown bread. |

In the mean time Jack
had come home from Mr.
Barlow's, where he had
found him in great grief
at the loss of the two dear
boys who were in his care.
He had sent right and left,
yet in no place could they
be found, and he came
back with Jack to the cot
just as Tom had had his
meal, which would have
made three such as Mr.
Barlow could eat.

Tom and Hal rose to
meet him, and thank him
for the long search he had
made for them, and to tell
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 71

him how much grief they
felt to have been the cause
of all his fears. Mr. Bar-
low said in a mild tone
that he thought it was not

wise to stray so far from
home. He took leave of
the good folk of the cot,
and then they all three set
off home.



CITA RTER VA:

As Mr. Barlow and the
two youths went on their
way home the stars shone
with a bright light. “I do
not think there is a man
that could count them!”
said Tom, “for you might
as well try to count the
flakes of snow that fell
while we were in the
wood.”

At this speech Mr. Bar-
low gave a loud laugh, and
said: “Hal will tell you
that it is zof so. Can you
not tell Tom the names

of the groups of stars,
Flaite

Hal.—‘Not all of them,
I fear, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Come,
Hal, as you were brought
up ata farm, I think you
can at least point out to us
Charles's Wain.”

So Hal bade Tom look
al tive bright Stars... ana
three more a short way off.

Mr. Barlow —“‘ The four
stars are like the wheels of
a cart, and the rest are like
the horse that draws the
72 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



cart. Now, Tom, look well
at them, and see if you can
find a group of stars that
are like them as to the way
they stand.”

Lom.— ‘No, sir, I do

not think I can.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ Now
look on the two stars which
stand for the hind wheels

of the cart, and raise your:

eyes straight up. Do you
not see a bright star that
seems to be, but is not
quite, on a line with them ?”
Tom.— Yes, sir, I do.”
Myr. Barlow.—“That is
the Pole Star; it does not
stir from its place, and if
you look full at it, you
may find the north.”
Tom.—“ Then if I turn
my face to that star I look
to the north ?”
Mr. Barlow—* You are
right.”



shal]
turn my back to the south?”

Mr. Barlow.— Y ou are
right once more, Tom; and
now can you not find the
east and the west 2”

_Lom.—“ Does not the
sun rise in the east?”

Mr. Barlow.—“Yes, but
there is no sun now to tell
us.” ,

— Flal—* Tf you turn your
face to the north, the east
will be on your right hand,
and the west on your left.”

Mr. Barlow—“ You are
right.”

Tom— That's fine! So,
then, as I know the Pole
Star, 2) cane finds enon,
south, east, and west; and
that too when clouds shut
out the sun. I shall tell
them all of this next time
I go home.”

isk 2 ale

Tom.—“Then I

glad
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 73



should [I have been to
know more of it that
night that I was on the
marsh; for I lost my track,

~- and knew not where I was.

At last I thought I must
‘give it up, when on one
side of me | saw a light
not far off, as if some one
went on the moor with a
lamp.” .

Tom.—‘ Did not that
make you glad, Hal?”

ia) Vou shall hear.
At first I did not quite
like to go up to the man
who (as I thought) held the
lamp; but then it struck
me that it was not worth
ainams pains to butt a
poor boy like me; so I
made up my mind to be
boid, and go up to it, and
ask my way of the man.”

Tom. —‘ And did he tell
you the way?”

Flal.— “1 thought at
first that the light was on
my right hand; it went
fast, and then it would seem
to go in front of me, then
to the left. I thought this
was strange, but I went on
with the chase, and just
as I felt I had got so near
that I could grasp at it, I
fell in a pit, and found I
was on the same side as the
light, so I went in search
of it once more, but still in
vain; and I knew no more
where I was than if I had
been set down in a strange
land. I had no hopes that
I should get home if I did
not reach the light, and
though I could not think
that the man who held it
knew I was so near, still
he would seem to strive all
he could to get from me.”

Tom.— “ And did he?”
74 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Flal—“ No. Though I
gave a loud cry to beg of
him to halt, it was of no
use, for the light went ten
times as fast, and zig zag,
so that I thought the man
who held it must be drunk.
I had some hopes that I
might hear the bark of a

dog, or the bell of a-sheep, |

but no sound was there to
be heard. The wind grew
cold and bleak, and my
clothes were wet through
with the rain. I sat down
for a short time to think
what I should do, but when
I cast my eyes up to the
sky, there I saw Charles's
Wain, and at the top of
iy the, Tole. Star. lis
brought to my mind _ that
the last time I went that
way the Pole Star was
right in front of me, so it
struck me that if I were







to turn my back on it, and
go in a straight line, |.
should get home; and so I
did with ease by the light
of the moon.”

Tom.—“ Then it is of
use to know the stars! |
have made up my mind
that I will learn the names
of all the stars that are in
the sky. But, blaleaid
you find out what that light
was that you saw in the
marsh ?”

Hlal—“It was the Will
of the Wisp.”

Tom. —‘ Who is he?”

Hal— ‘They told me
at the farm that it was a
kind of air that comes out
of the earth and takes fire,
and that time out of mind
men have run up to try to
get near it, as I did, and
like me, had been thrown
in some pit or ditch.”
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 75



The young boys had now
got to Mr. Barlow's gate,
and when they had sat a
long time to talk of all
that they had gone through,
they went to bed.

Mr. Barlow was in his
room where he sat to write
by the light of a lamp, when
in sprang Tom, who said
in a loud voice—

“Sir, sir, I have found it

out! It moves! It moves!”

“« What
Mr. Barlow.
_ “Why, Charles's Wain
moves. When I took my
clothes off I thought I
would take one more peep
at the sky, and I saw that
all the four stars that make
the cart, and the two stars
that make the horse, had
got up in the sky a great,
great way |” |

“Well,”

moves?” said

said Mr. Bar-





low, “you are right. You
have done a vast deal this
day, and when we get up
to break our fast we will

talk of all that you have

seen and heard.”

The next day they did
so, and Mr. Barlow told
the boys a tale from real
life, which took place in
the Alps, where the rocks
are so high that the snow
does not melt on the tops
of them. Mr. Barlow said
that half the year the men
who live there keep to the
house day and night, but
when it gets warm the snow
thaws on the sides of the
hills and rocks, and, as it
melts, it is apt to fall down
from time to time in a large
mass, so as to kill the men
and beasts who are in the
vale.

Well, it was from these
76 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



Alps, on the first of March,
that a mass of snow of huge
bulk came down from a
great height. All in the
vale were then in doors,
save two, Joe Roche and
his son (who was a lad),
and they had gone on the
roof of their house to clean
the snow fromit. Ai priest,
who just at that time went
by on his way to the
church, told them to come
down from the roof as fast
as they could, for he saw
a large mass of snow roll
down the side of the rocks
of ice, which would soon
be on them. The man and
his son flew for their lives
they knew not where; but
they had not gone more
than a few yards, when the
lad’s foot slid on the ice,
and he fell down. Roche

went dack a step or two to



lift him up, and as he did so
he saw the mass of ice and
snow fall on his house and
Crush ity)

When Roche came to
think how all that he held
most dear were now shut
up in the snow to die, he
was so struck down with

grief that he fell to the

ground in a kind of fit.
At last he got safe to a

friend's house some way

on Five wdaysr nadie
been there ill; and on the
sixth day he went with his
son and two men to try
if he could find the spot
where his house stood, but
they could not do so.

As the next month was
sure to be hot, he knew
the srow would melt, and
from time to time he went
to see if he could find a
trace of his dear wife and
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 7

two babes. One day he

threw earth on the snow

that lay on his house (to

mel it) “then he broke
through ice six feet thick
with a strong bar, then
thrust down a long pole,
and with this he felt the
ground; but as it grew
dark, he had to leave off
for that day.

The next, day a friend
went with him to work,
and they found the spot
where the house stood by
a hole in the snow, but
none of the dead could
they see. They now made
a search in a shed or stall
which was some way from
the house, and there they
heard a cry of “Help!
Help!”

What tongue can tell
the rush of joy which these
sounds sent to the heart of

\





Roche? He and his friend
set to work with all their
might to dig a hole, through
which they crept,and Roche
saw his poor wife all but
dead, who just had the
strength to say, with a faint
voice, “I Azew 1 could trust
in God and you, Roche!”
The young girl, too, still
had life; and when they
brought them to the top,
it was as if they took them
from the grave. They were
too weak to walk, and they.
were put to bed, and had
some warm milk with flour.

The wife had lost ‘the
use of her limbs from cold
and cramp, and could not
so much as sit up in her
bed, but the girl soon got
well.

The wife told the sad
tale in these words :—
“When the mass fell, our
78 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



dear boy and girl and I
were in the shed, in which
were our ass, five or six
fowls, and six goats, one of
which on that day had had
two dead kids, and we had
gone there to take her some
warm drink, and we meant
to stay there to wait for the
church bell to ring. All
at once we heard the roof
break; so we stood in the
rack, for there the roof had
most strength. The ass
got loose and gave a kick,
which threw down a pail,
in which we caught the
snow; and when the air
was warm so as to cause it
to melt, we drank it. Our
first care was to know what
there was to eat, and I
found some nuts in a pouch
which hung by my side.
The boy and girl had just





they should want no more
that day; but they thought
of a plate of meal cakes
which they knew were in
one of the stalls, yet they
could not get at them for
the snow. We all set up
a loud shrill call, but. no
oneheard us. Theassand |
goats kept up life for three .
days, and then we heard
and saw no more of them:
but two of the goats were
left, one of which gave milk,
and to them we owe our
lives.

“All this time we saw
not one ray of light, yet
for three weeks we had
some note of day and night,
for the fowls kept up their
crow at dawn till they were
dead, just as if they had
seen the break of day.

“The next day we ate

had a good meal, and saidjall the nuts, and drank
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 79



what milk the goat had,
which at first was two
pounds a day. The third
day we made a search once
more for the cakes, but in
vain. Just at the top of
the stall was a loft, where,
through a hole, the boy
could pull down the hay to
fill the rack for the goats
as long as he could reach
it; and then, when it was
too high for that, the goats
got on the boy’s back and
brought it down.

“On the sixth day the
dear boy fell sick; and
four days from that time I
held him on my lap. At
last he told me to lay him
at his length on the ground.
I did so; and when I took
him by the hand, I felt it
was cold. I then put my
hand to his mouth, and
found that that too was

cold, so I gave him some
milk, and the dear love
said—‘ Dad is in the snow.
Oh, my dad! my dad!’
and then his sweet soul
took wing.

“In the mean time the
goats milk got. less and
less; and as the fowls were
now dead, we could not
tell night from day.

“But the time had now
come for one of the goats
to have a kid; and as the
young one did not live,
we had all the milk for our
food.

“When we spoke to her,
she would come to lick our
hands and face; and she
gave us two pounds of milk
each day, so she may well
be a pet with us!”

“Dear me,” said Tom,

when Mr. Barlow had

| brought this tale to a close,
80

“what things men have to
bear!”

“They have, in good
sooth,” said Mr. Barlow;
“and we ought to do more
than sit at our ease in an
arm chair, when life is
made up.of so much grief
and care.

“Those who have no
wealth to give can show
their love by a kind word
or two, which, on the face
of it, seems but a small
thing—yet on the ear of
him who thought to die
with none to mourn him,
it would fall like choice
sounds from a lute, fill his
eyes with tears, and tell him
that one of the great race
was near, and felt for him.
It was some such thought
as this that gave Roche
strength for his work. To
get sight of one last look



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

from his poor wife, to lock
that hand in his once more,
and to speak one word of
peace to her! ‘Though this
was more than he could
dare to hope for, when she
had been shut up im the
snow so long!”

Tom.— How is it that
men can care to live in
such a place as the Alps ?”

Mr. Barlow. — “The
Swiss have a great love for
the land of their home.
Which do you love best,
Tom, the town _or these
green lanes?” :

Tom.— Oh, these green
lanes and fields, to be
sure !”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Should
you not like to live in a
town, my boy?”

Tom.— No, sir, for then
I must leave those I love

best in the world; and you ;,

d

Ci

{
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 81

too, sir, who have been so
kind tome. Ido not think
in all my life I shall meet
with so good a friend as
you are.

Mr. Barlow. —*“ Well,
these Swiss who live on the
Alps love their land best
too, like you, Tom, and the
Field Mouse.”

Tom. —‘“ What of him,
sir?”

Mr. Barlow. — “ Why,
he must needs try what
a town life was like, that
he might make his choice.
His friend the Town Mouse
- came to fetch him, and the
Field Mouse spread a meal
for his guest in his soft

nest, which was in the hole

of a tree. The fare was
plain, but it cost some pains
to get it; there were seeds
of grass, rye, wheat, and
nuts, ants’ eggs, the sweet



bag of a bee, and a frog's
leg. 3

“The Town Mouse could
not taste such fare, not he!
‘Frogs and bees are fit for
none but snakes and birds.
Let me be free with you,
Peep (for that (was. lhis
name); ‘I can't think how
you can spend your life in
this vile hole, with naught
to look at but hills and
rills, green grass and sky.
No sounds reach your ears
but the songs of birds and
the buzz of bees, while in
the town we hear the news
of the whole world. Take
my word for it, Peep, you
will find it a good change
to live in a town, for we
dance and sing, and take

our-fill of the best.’

“So they set off side by
side, till they got to a grand
house, and through a chink
Be SANDFORD AND MERTON.

they crept to a room where
a feast was spread. ‘There
were all kinds of fowl, ham
and eggs, plates full of
tants and creams, — Peep
was quite wild with joy,
and they set to work tooth
and nail.

“But hark, a key turns
in a lock, and lo! a big
man comes in with three
large dogs! The mice, in
a great fright, now run for
the chink, but their tails
brush the jaws of a great
dog ere they reach it; yet
they get safe out at last.

“When Peep could fetch
her breath, and it was a
long time first, she said
to Dame Town Mouse: ‘I
take my leave of town and
great folk from this hour,
and I long for the charms
of the Downs, and my







‘Though poor the fare,
Mice are most blest when free from care.’”

Tom.— “The Field Mouse
was quite right, and the
Town Mouse was quite
wrong.

Tom and Hal now went
to play with a snow ball
which they had made, but
which had grown to such
a size that they could not
roll it. Tom = said they
must strike. work, for no
one could have the strength
to move it. “Oh,” said
Hal, “I know a cure for
it.” So he went to fetch
two thick sticks five feet
long, one of which he took
in his own hand, and gave
one to Tom, and then told
him to shove his stick
‘twixt the ball and the
ground, while he did the

same on his side; and then

snug nest in the tree; for, | the ball went with ease.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.



83



Tom.—“ How can this
be?”

Flal—* It is the sticks
that have done it, and this
is the way our men move
the stems of large trees,
which they could not stir

but for the poles.”
Tom.—“ But the sticks
do not give us more
strength than we had.”
Just as Tom said this
the poles broke off. “This
is no great loss,’ said he,
“for the ends will do just as
well as the whole sticks.”
Yet they would not stir
the snow ball.

Tom.— “ Well, the short
sticks will not do. How
is that?”

Hal. —“ That I could
have told you, but I like
you to find these things
out. You see now that
there is more force in a

long stick than in a short
one.”

So they went to Mr.
Barlow's men to ask for
some long poles, and they
found the men at work on
the stump of an old oak,
which was so large and
strong that it would seem
as if no axe could cleave
it, yet there were but two
old men at work on it, to
break it up in small bits
for Mr. Barlow’s fires; but
Tom said he was sure that
he could not know what
hard work the poor men
were at.

flal, — “ What should
you say then if you saw
me, small as I am, cleave
it in two by the help of
but one of these men ?”

So Hal took up a six
inch wedge, and with a
few blows drove it in the
84 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

wood. The old man nad

lost sight of. “There,” said

he then struck it hard on} Hal, “this first wedge has

the head, till the root of the
oak gave a loud crack on
all sides, and the wedge
went so far in that it was

xy

done well.” Two or three
more did the job, and the

root was split in two.



CHAPTER VII.

Wuen the boys came
home they went to their
books, and Mr. Barlow
gave them a sketch of some
of the great wars that took
place a long time since.

“Oh” said Tom, “what
a fine thing it must be to
go to the wars, and dress
up in a red coat, march to
the sound of the drum, see
the flags fly in the air, and
be a man!”

“Nay,” said Mr. Barlow,

“these fine clothes and gay



sounds are not all that
make up such a life, for in
time of war there is no set
of men that have to go
through more toil than
they, for they march for
whole days in the heat of
the sun, or through cold
ANGea Tain ance eiuamaney,
chance that they have no
food to eat; and that while |
they sleep, the most they
can have is some straw to
lie down on. And there
are times when they are
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 85

worse off still. While the
fight goes on, there is not
aout tie Gaye that
each man does not run the
chance of a shot, by which
he might lose his limbs, or
die of the wounds.”

Tom. —“ Dear me, sir,
what a sad sketch you
draw of those brave men
who fight for the land of
their birth! I’m sure when
they come home sick and
ill from their wounds, those
who sent them out should
take care of them.”

Mr. Barlow —“ \n truth
they should, Tom.”

Tom sat still for a long
time wrapt in thought.

“Well, Tom, what are
your thoughts?” said Mr.
Barlow.

Tom.—* Why, sir, | want
to know how we can go to
war and not break that law





which you read to us once
a week in church, ‘ Thou
shalt mot kines

Mr. Barlow.—“ Ot all
the blood that has been
spilt from the time of the
wars of the Jews down to
a few years past, scarce a
drop of it has been shed in
a cause that can be said to
have been right, just, or to
have sense in it.”

Tom.—“ How can it be
night to killat g/,\sin ior
aught else than to save lire
in the end?”

Mr. Barlow.‘ —If men
took that law which you
speak of (‘Thou shalt not
kill’) as it is meant, there
would be no wars but those
which were fought with a

view to save life. And,
what is more, no man
would be hung.”

Flal—" But, sir, we are
86

told in the first five books
of the Word of God that
‘He who sheds_ man's
blood, by man shall his
blood be shed.”

Mr. Barlow —“But what
are the words that come
next to those which you
quote ?”

Hal—<‘ For in the form | .

>?

of God made he man.

Mr. Barlow—“ Then it
would seem that the law
was made to set forth the
great worth of a mans life,
and that the God who
made us is choice of man’s
life, ‘for in the form of
God made he man. The
Jews were so dull of heart
that they could not be made
to feel the law of Sve.
But as time went on, God
sent our Lord Christ on
earth to teach it; and Christ
said, ‘Ye have heard that



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



it hath been said, an eye for
an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth, but I say to you
strive not when harm it
done to you.”

ffal—* Then you think,
sir, that we are not. bound
by the law of God to take
a life for a life?”
Tom —‘‘It seems to me, —
sir, that when they come
to hang a man, it must
make him think that they
took the hint from him.
And I am sure he can't
think that we hold a man’s
life to be worth much, if
we send two men out of
the world when (if it were
not for this law of our
land) it need have been
but one.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ 1 think
you are right; to take a
life for a life, is to hold life

too cheap. As to wars, it
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 87



will be a good time when
we shall hear of no fights
- save those which are fought
by brutes. You must ask
Tom to tell you of the war
with the birds, beasts, and
Dates

Flal.—‘The bat—who
could not be said to be bird
or beast—at first kept out
of the way of both, but
when he thought the beasts
would win the day, he was
founda in their ranks, and to
prove his right to be there,
he said, ‘Can you find a
bird that has two rows
of teeth in his head as I
have?’ At last the birds
had the best of the fight,
so then the bat was seen
to join their ranks. ‘Look,’
said he, ‘I have wings, so
what else can I be but a
bird?’ Thus to ‘grind

with all winds’ was thought



base in the bat by both
sides of the fight, and he
could not get bird or beast
fo owl hitm- sand: tor this
day he hides and skulks in
caves and stems of trees,
and does not come out till
dark, when all the birds of
the air have gone to roost,
and the beasts of the field
are wrapt in sleep.”

The frost had now come
to an end, and as the night
was clear and light, Tom
went out with Mr. Barlow
to look at the stars.

“ How strange it is,” said
Tom, “that all the stars

should turn round the
earth !”

“How do you know,’
said’ Mr. Barlow, “that

they move at all?”
Lom.—*‘ Why, sir, I see

them move from time to-

time.”
88 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Mr. Barlow.—‘ But how
are you sure that it is the
stars that move and not
the earth 2°”

Tom made a long pause
and then said: “But in
that case, sir, I should see
the earth move, and the
stars stand still.”

Mr. Barlow.— How is
it in a coach, then; does
the coach stand still while
the trees move ?”

tom —-« No; sir, but it
looks as if it did.”

Mr. Barlow.— ‘How is
it in a boat, too?”

Tom.—* Oh yes, | have
seen the same thing in a
boat. 1 have thought the
shore slid from the boat,
and not the boat from the
land.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ lf that
is the case, may it not be
that the earth you stand on





moves, and that the stars
are at rest?”

Lom.—“ But do you.
think that such smal! things
as the stars would stand
still, and a large thing like
the earth move?”

Mr. Barlow. —‘ How do
you know that the sun and
the stars are so small ?”

Tom.—“I1 see them to’
be so. The stars are so
small that they can scarce
be seen at all; and the sun
does not seem to be so
large as a round stool.”

The next day, as they
stood to gaze on the sea,
Mr. Barlow saw a small
speck a great way off, and
the first thing was to point
it out to Tom, which cost
him some pains to do, as it
was so small.

“What do you think of
it?” said he.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Tom said he thought it
might be a small boat, but
he could not well tell, as
it was but a speck on the
edge of the sea. “ Look,
_sir, now it seems to grow
more and more big.”

Mr. Barlow.— How is
that?”

Tom.—‘“ Why it gets
more and more near to our
sight.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ What,
can a thing, then, be small
and large too?”

Tom.—“ Yes, sir, it seems
small when it is a great
way off, for I have seen a
house and a church do the
same. And now | find
that it is a ship with a
mast, and not a boat, for I
see the sail.”

Mr. Barlow went on for
a while by the side of the
sea, and soon he _ heard



89

Tom call out to him:
“Why, sir! ‘tis not a ship
with one mast, as I thought
it was, but a fine large
man of war with three
masts, and all her sails
up.
Mr. Barlow —* Will you
now think of what you
have just said? What was
first a speck, was by and
by a small boat, then a
large one, then a ship with
One (Mast, anadenowiitisia
large man of war with three
masts, and in full sail! Yet
it is the same thing all the
while, seen far and near.”

Mr. Barlow.—* Well,
then, Rom) aie the) ‘ship,
which is now in full sight,
were to tack and sail back
just as it came up to us,
what do you think would
take place?”

Lom.—*\t would grow
go
less and less, till it got
to be a mere speck once
more.

Mr. Barlow.—“1 think
you said that the sun was
a small globe the size of a
round stool ?”

Tom.— Yes, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. — “lf the
sun were to move a great
way off, what would take
place ?”

Tom thought for some
time, and then said it would
do the same as the ship
did.

Mr. Barlow. — “Might
not the stars then at last
look as large as the sun
now does, just as the sun
would be but the size of a
star were it to move a
great way off?”

Tom.— Yes, I think it
might.”

Mr. Barlow, —“ And



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

what if the sun came near
it, would its size be the
same?”

Tom—-“No.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ lf so,
then it is clear that the
earth we live on is not so
large as we might think.
What if it should be &ss
than the sun and the stars?
They are a great way off,
and if you could go from
the earth up to the sun,
how do you think the earth
would look?” |

Tom.— “I can't tell.”

Mr. Barlow. — “No?
Why, is it not the same
thing if the ship should
sail from us, or we should
walk from the ship?”

Tom —* Yes, sir.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Might
not the earth then at least
seem as small as the sun
and moon do 2”
SANDFORD AND MERTON. gl



Tom.—“ Yes; it would
look less and less.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Now,
then, 1 would ask you, if a
man could go straight from
the earth to the sun, how
would each seem to him
as he went?”

Tom.—‘“ The earth would
seem less and less, and the
sun more and more big.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ Why
then the earth might seem
less than the sun ?”

Tom. —“ Well, so it
might.”
On their way home,

Mr. Barlow and the boys
saw a great crowd round
the door of a house, and
when they went in they
saw there a man who had
much skill in sleight of
hand; so they sat down
with the rest of the crowd.

aS ince mcatautie mam <4 tl

-|for the last.



have kept my - best trick
You see this
swan; it is no more than a
false swan, made upof wood
ang. ero, . Ii woh new
your doubts, take it up in
your hands and look at 1t.”

So the boys took it up,
and then set it to swim on
the small tank which had
been brought there to play
the trick on.

“Now this swan,” said
he, “which, you see, sirs,
looks to have no sense or
life, is of so strange a sort
that he knows me, and will
turn to me at all times
when I call him.”

The man then took a
small piece of bread, made
a shrill sound, and _ told
the swan to come to the
side of the tank to be fed.
At the word “Come, sir,”
the swan gave a slow turn,
92 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



and like a ship in full sail,
came up to the bread that
was held out for it; and
let the man go which side
he would, the swan swam
up to him.

At this a loud laugh
came from all the boys
and girls that had been
drawn there to look on,
but they could not make
out how it was. Tom was
so struck with the trick,
that for some days it was
all he could talk of. He
said he would give all he
had in the world to find
it out, and to have just
such a swan.

But Hal told him he
thought he could play the
trick; and the next day he
made up a piece of wax
in the shape of a swan,
and put it in a tub for a
pond, on which it swam







with as much grace as the

man’s swan did, and came
up to Tom when he held
out the bread.

He was mad to know
how the trick was done, so
Hal gave him the swan to
look at, and he saw that a
long thin piece of steel ran
through it from end _ to
end; and that in the bread
with which the bird was
fed was put a bar of steel
in the shape of a horse’s
shoe. But all this threw
no light on Tom's mind.
Mr. Barlow then put down
some small bits of steel,
near to which he brought
the bar; and to see these
jump up one by one, as
the bar came near them,
and dance from side to
side, made Tom jump with
glee. When the bar was
held up in the air they all
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 93





clung to it, just as if they
had sense and life, for no
one kept them there. Mr.
Barlow then put a key near
the bar, which hung to it
in the same way.

Mr. Barlow.—* A stone
is found in the mines which
can draw to it bits of steel ;
but, what is still more
strange, if you take these
bits of steel and rub them
on the stone, you can do
the same thing with chem,
for they will draw steel up

to them just as the stone
will.”





Mr. Barlow then told
him that this force in the
steel is made use of in
ships out at sea, when the
steel is shut up in a glass
case, and by its means the
men can find out the north,
south, east, and west.

Tom thought it most
strange that a small bit of
steel should help men to
cross the vast seas and sail
from port to port, and this
too when the shades of
night, and mist, and fogs
shut out the light.

CEHAPTER Vit.

THE time of year now
drew near for Mr. Merton
to have the poor folk to
dine at his house, so he
sent for them from far

and near. They came in
crowds; and there was a
large spread of meats and
cakes, beer and sweet wine,
for them all to sit down to
94. SANDFORD AND MERTON.



in the hall, where a large
bright fire met their gaze.

Mr. Barlow went to and
fro to talk to them, and to
help them to this dish and
that, and saw that they all
had their fill. Tom and
Hal did the same, and so
far the day went off well.

When the meal came to
an end, Tom took out the
large dog (whose name was
Dash), of which he was so
fond that he would throw
sticks in the pond by the
hour for Dash to bring
out and lay down at his
feet.

Tom now thought he
would make Dash draw
him in a sledge, for which
he got a chair, and bound
him to it. Dash (who
knew not the use he was
now put to) let the young
boy do to him just what he

chose; so when the dog
was bound fast to the
sledge, Tom took his. seat
with whip in hand, and set
off in grand pomp, to the
great glee of the boys and
girls who had come from
the feast to look on. This,
of course, made Tom wish
all the more to show off
his skill.

“Gee up, Dash! get on,
sir!” said he: and then
came a smack of the whip.
But poor Dash felt much
at a loss to know what the
smack of the whip was for,

‘and thought he had done

some wrong thing; so, with
a cringe, he crept on the
ground, and then made a
dead stop. This brought
a loud laugh from those
who stood by.

As Tom could not get
on with Dash, he grew hot
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 95



with rage, and gave his
dog a sharp lash with the
whip. At this the dog
tore off at full speed; yet
still Tom kept his seat with
great skill. But, as ill luck
would have it, the pond
(in which Tom had thrown
sticks to please the dog)
was near at hand, and
to this pond Dash made
a rush, and one plunge
brought him in the midst
of it, with the chair at his
heels, in which sat Tom.
Tom’s fears for his life
were now great, for Dash
gave a bound which made
the chair tilt on one side,
and plunge poor Tom in
the pond, and as he could
not swim, he had_ hard
work to get to dry land.
He stood up to shake his
wet. clothes; but now his
feet stuck fast in the mud,



and when he got them free,
it was with the loss of his
shoes.

At last Tom came to
land! And he found he
was in the midst of the
troop of boys and girls,
who, with one voice, now
broke forth in fresh peals
and shouts. This of course
made Tom in a great rage,
and he dealt cuffs and
blows on all sides, which
put the boys to flight.

The noise soon brought
Mr. Barlow to the spot;
but it was as much as he
could do to keep a smile
from his face when he saw
poor Tom with his clothes
all wet, his shoes off. and
wild with rage.

It cost Tom some pains
to make known to Mr. Bar-
low all that took place, and
it cost Mr. Barlow some
96

pains to make much out of
it. But he brought Tom

home, and told him that,
the best thing for him to'

do was to go to bed, and
he took him up some warm

drink.

The next day Mr. Bar-|

low said, in joke: “Well,
Tom, shall you go out in
your sledge to day? I see
I could not go with you,
for I fear you beat those
who are near you.”

Tom.—“I1 should not
have done so if I had not
heard them laugh.”

Mr. Barlow.—* Did their
noise do you harm, that
you should be so rough
with them ?”

Tom.—*“No, it did not
do me harm, nor give me
pain, as far as that goes,
sir; but who does like boys
to point and laugh at one?”



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Mr. Barlow. — “ Well,
though it might be just to
treat them so, you had no
right to do it; and to be
free with you, my dear
young friend, I would bring
to your mind what the
Wolf said when the hounds
came up to him to hear
him play on the pipe.”

Tom. —‘“ What was it,
sir?” |

Mr. Barlow. — “ It was
this: ‘He who goes out
of his way to play the fool,
should bear in mind that
he will have to pay for it.”

Tom.—‘ Whom did the
wolf play his tune on the
pipe to? Not to the
hounds I should think.”

Mr. Barlow.— No, but
to a young kid that would
stray from the herd; and
when she saw the wolf, she
did her best to get out of
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 97



his reach; but when she
found that all hope was at
an end, and that he meant
to eat her, she said: ‘I
know that.I am to die at
your hands, so as my life
will now be but short, I
pray of you to let it bea
gay one. Now, do you
pipe while I dance!’”

“So first the wolf pipes,
and the kid jumps and
springs to please him. But
just then a pack of hounds,
who heard the sound, ran
up to see who. was. there,
-and then the wolf set off
as fast as his legs would
take him.”

Tom.—“ Well, sir, you
would not have had me
set off as fast as my legs
would take me from all
those rude boys round the
pond, would you ?”

Mr. Barlow.—“1 think



you chose a much worse
part when you gave them
blows right and left.”
Lom. — “What would
you do in such acase, sir?”
Mr. Barlow.—* Why I
think I should take the
laugh in my own hands,
as the bald man did when
the wind blew off his hat
and wig, and a laugh came
from all those who saw his
bald head. He said, ‘How
could I hope to keep
strange hair on my head,
when my own would not

stay there!’”

Tom.—‘“ But I had no
joke, sir, to turn it off
with.”

Mr. Barlow. —‘ Then

there is but one thing to
be said, which is, that he
must stoop that has a low
door.”

The time had now come
98

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



when Tom was to go to
Mr. Merton’s; and Hal,
too, was to stay there for
some time.

Mr. Barlow had felt a
great dread that Tom would
meet with boys of the world
there, who would draw his
young mind from _ that
which is true and good,
and set up in its stead that
which is false and wrong ;
and he took leave of the
boys with a faint heart.

When they came to Mr.
Merton's house they found
it full of rich folk who
were to spend a gay time
there. Twice did Tom go
the rounds to shake hands
with the guests, and all
took care to speak in his
praise.

“He has grown such a
sweet boy,” said some of

the young folk, ‘his eyes,



his hair, his teeth, are so
fine !”

As to Hal, by good luck,
no one took much heed of
him, save Mr. Merton, who
gave him a warm shake
of the hand, and was most
kind to him. But in a
short time a young girl,

‘whose name was Maude

de Vere, came up to Hal
to talk to him, and found
what a nice lad he was.
Then they all went to dine,
and poor Hal gave a deep
sigh at the thoughts of what
he had to go through; but
he had made up his mind
to bear it, for the sake of
his friend Tom.

Though Hal knew that
Mr. Merton would spare
no pains to make him feel
at home (just as he had
done the first time he went
to his house), still the blaze
SANDFORD AND MERTON. 99



of lights, the grand style
of dress in the guests, the
soft tones of their voice,
and the ease and grace of
their ways, all struck Hal
with so much awe that he
could but think that the
men on the farm were much
the best off, who when they
want food can sit at their
ease on a bank and eat a
good meal, though there
may not be plate, or so
much as a cloth to place
it on.

In the mean time, his
friend Tom sat with the
grand dames, who said so
much of his “wit and his
sense, that Tom thought
he must be all that they
said he was, and that there
was none there to match
him—no, not one!

It was this that Mr. Bar-
low had so much dread of,



when he took leave of the
young child who was in
his charge to train up in
the way he should go.

Mrs. Merton was quite
of the same mind as the
rest. When she saw her
boy, the first time he came
home, so stout in heart,
and so strong in health, it
was a great source of joy
to her (for, though she was
weak, she could feel what
was right); but to see him
shine with so bright a light
as he now did, and in the
eyes, too, of those who
she thought could so well
judge, made her heart beat
with a joy which she had
not felt till now.

In fact, Tom’s tongue
went at such a rate that it
would seem as if he took
the lead, and Mr. Merton
—who did not see that this
100

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



was in such good taste as
Mrs. Merton did—once or
twice told him not to talk
so fast, which his wife
thought hard; and all her
friends, when they left the
room, said that Mr. Mer-
ton. would spoil Tom’s pluck
for life.

As for Hal, he held his
tongue, and had not said
one fine thing all the while.

Some of the guests went
so far as to tell their host
that if Mr. Barlow kept
a school for boys at the
plough, it was not for him
to let his fine boy join
them. They said, too, that
Mr. Barlow was an odd
sort of man at the best, for
he went to no balls, nor
did he play cards, nor dress
well.

“To tell you the truth,
said Mrs. Merton, “I did



not think much of the plan
when it was made; but as
Mr. Barlow would not be
paid for it, one could not
ask him to turn young
Sandford out of the house.”

“Tfthat is the case,” said
Mrs. Count (for that was
the name of Mrs. Merton's.
chief friend), « I should say
it would be the best to
place him in some school

|where he might know the

world, and make friends to
push him on, and cause
him to shine.”

. Just then the tea was
brought in, which put a
stop to all this talk. Then
a young girl sang a Scotch
song, aaah aaade Hal
weep. By and by some
French airs were sung; but
as Hal could not ate out
the words, he thought them
tame, and soon was seen to
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Io!



give a yawn, and then a
nod, till at last he fell back
ingeise chaine in sa sound
sleep! All the gay folk
round him thought this
“ strange — rough — rude.”
But Hal’s sleep was none
the less sweet for all that,
as he heard them not; nor
did he wake up-from it till
it was time for those guests
who did not spend the
night there to go home.
Tom chose out two boys
to play with all day, and,
step by step, he shook off
his dear, good friend Hal,
the boy who had led him



to love all that is great and
true of heart, and with
whom he had spent his
time since he had been at
Mr. Barlows! And _ for
whom did he cast him off?
For two bad boys who
were made up of self, who
might be said to love that
which is wrong, and to hate
that which is right.

Tom now felt a new
range of thoughts spring
up in him, a range more
wide, though by no means
so high as that which Mr.
Barlow had taught him.



CHAPTER, EX:

One day Mr. Merton
sent all the boys to a town
not far off, to see a play.
Young Tom sat with one

of the bad boys on each
side of him, and to pass the
time, they threw bits of peel
and nuts on the boards;
102

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



and when the men came
on the stage to act their
part, the folk who sat near
these three boys could not
hear a word of the play
for the noise they made.

At last Nash (who was
the chief of them all) said,
that as the men did their
parts so ill, it would be
fine fun to hiss them off
the stage, and then put out
the foot lights, in short, to
Okick up arrow. 2 Though
Tom did not quite know
what “kick up a row”
meant, yet he thought so
much of Nash that he said
“it would be just? the
thing !”

Now Hal, who had sat
quite still all this time,
could stand it no more, so
he got up, and said in a
loud voice, “ Though these

men can’t act so well as



those you have seen in
town, don't you think they
would be glad to do it if
they could?) Why do you
taunt them for what they
can't help ?”

No one knows how long
this noise would have gone
on, if a man from a farm,
whose seat was near, had
not come up to Nash and
told -him in plain words
that he for one would take
the means to put down all
this noise. —

Nash said, “Do you
think I shall stand this from
such a low bred wretch
as you are? Is it for you
to think and feel for me?”
And then he struck him
on the face.

But the man took Nash
by the neck, laid him at
full length on the ground,
set his foot on him and
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

said: “Since you do not
know how to sit still at a
play, I will teach you to
lie still;” and that if he
were to stir hand or foot,
he would
death.

Such a scene as this, of
course, threw a gloom on
all the young folk that had
come from Mr. Merton's
to see the play.

Nash had to beg for his
life in as mild a tone as
he could use, and all his
friends did the same; Hal,
too, was heard to join
them. |
“Well,” said the man,
“T could not have thought
that a set of high born
boys as you are would
come to a place like this,
and act a part so coarse
and rude as yours has been
this night.. I am sure there

tread him to’



103

is not a lad at my plough
who would not have shown
more sense. Yet, since
you change your tone, I
will let you off, for the sake
of this young boy who has
done all he could to stop
you. Here the man put
out his hand to point to
Hal.

With these words he let
Nash rise from the ground’
where he lay, and he crept
from the spot with looks
more meek and mild than
those he had brought there;
and from that time all the
boys sat out the play as
still as mice.

But as he went home, ©
Nash’s pride rose, and by
the time he had got out of
the man’s reach, he said to
Tom: “Were it not for his
mean rank, I would call
him out and shoot him.”
104

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



The next day, when the
guests all sat down to dine
at Mr. Merton’s house,
those who did not go to
the play said to the boys
that they should like to
hear what they thought of
the piece; so they told
them that as far as that
went it was a first rate plot,
full of wit, and in all ways
fit to do good to those who
went to see it, if the men
had but known how to act
it.

But Mr. Merton, who
saw that Hal did not speak,
said he should like to know
what he thought of it.

“Why, sir,” said Hal, “I
am no judge of such things,
for this is the first play |
have seen; but, as far as
the plot goes, it struck me
that pride, spite, snares,

and vain show made up the |



sum of it, and men came
on and off the stage to tell
lies and cheat.”

Mr. Merton laid down
his knife and fork, and

‘gave a loud laugh, yet it

was a kind one.

At night the young folk
sat down to cards; but Hal
did not join them, as he
did not know the game.
Hal's friend, Maude de
Vere, told him she would
teach him. Yet Hal said,
“No; for he had spent
all his cash, and so could
not pay the stake as the
rest did.

Maude then said she
would lend him some if he
would play; but still Hal
could but call to mind that
Mr. Barlow had told him
how bad a thing it is to
ask a friend to lend.

“Well,” said Maude,
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

105



“that need not give you
pain, for you shall play as
if for me.” 7

Thus was Hal led on to
_ sit down to cards with the
rest. He did not find the
game hard to learn, and, as
it fell out, Hal and Maude
were the last two who were
left’ to ‘play; the rest, by
the laws of the game, gave
up all claims to the stake,
and one more round. would
give the whole of it to one
of these two.

But Hal rose from the
game, and told Maude that
as he was to play from her
fund, there was now no
need for him to go on with
it, as there could be no
doubt that the pool was
hers.

Maude.‘ Will you lay
out the sum for me, Hal?”

Hal. —“ By all means;



and | hope you will like
the way I shall spend
ea

The next day at dawn
off Hal went, and no one
in the house saw him till
they all sat down to dine;
and then, with a glow of
warmth on his face, he -
took his seat.

Some of them drew back
with pride in their fooks,
when they saw all the dust
from the road on his dress;
but when Mr. Merton, in
a kind way, made room for
him by his side, Hal felt
more at home.

*The talk ran on the
dance and the stage. And
now they had all made up
a plan to get up a fund for
a man who took the part
of Jaques in a play, and
did it so well that they
thought they should like to
— 106

show their taste, and give
him a gold snuff box.

All gave to it but Hal.
“Here's a fine rogue!” said
they. -“ Last night we saw
him with six crowns in his
hand, which he had won
from us, and now the
wretch will not give us
half a crown; but, no doubt,
he can prove that it is
quite the right thing to
keep his cash in his purse.”

Of course there was
much to vex Hal
this, and he thought the
best thing was to speak out
at once, and let them know
what he thought, so he
said:

“T do not see what good
it is to give to a man who
gets as much in a week as
would feed a score of the

in all



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

This speech drew forth

much scorn from the rest

of the boys; and they sat
down to cards. Maude,
who did not play this time,
said to Hal: |
“Would it not have
been best to give just what
the rest have done, so as
not to thwart them by so
free a speech, though you
did not quite like the
cause ?” :

Flal.—“ Nay, 1 could
not give it.”

Maude. How can that
be, Hal? Did» you smot

win six crowns at the game
of cards?” 7

Hlal— That was yours,
not mine. And I gave it
in a way which | am sure
you will like.”

Maude.—“ And how 1s

poor round us in the same | that, Hal?”

space of time.”

Hal—* There lives near
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

us a poor old man, who has
grown too weak to work,
and his’ wife has a_ bad
hand. Their child took
some work on our farm,
but she left her place to
nurse these poor folk.
When she comes to the
farm for the day, she slaves
hard that she may get food
for them. So, as you said
I might do as I chose with
the sum, I gave it to her,
and I hope you will like
the use I have put it to.”

Maude.—“ Nay, | thank
you much for the good
fame in which you hold
me, to have spent it in so
kind a way; but I wish
you had done so in your
own name.”

Flal—* That I had no
right to do.”

In this way was the
time spent at Mr. Merton's,



107



where Hal found no peace
save when he sat out with
Maude de Vere.

At length the time drew
near for a ball, which Mrs.
Merton meant to. give.
Dress and the dance were
the sole things that the
girls could now think of,
but Maude was bent more
on that which is good and
true. Maude had been at
work on a large roll of
clothes, which she bade
Hal to give to the poor folk
he spoke of. When Hal
took it from her his eyes”
were full of tears, for he
saw in Maude’s face the
mark of a good and true
heart. So much does real
worth set off the looks!
And Hal could but think,
if all the rest of the girls
were as good as Maude,
they might spare all the
108 |



pains they took to curl
their hair and deck their
forms.

At last came the night
There was a,

of the ball.
blaze of light in all the
rooms, and the halls rang
loud with mirth. Not a
point was left out of Tom’s
dress that could add to the
style of it. He had learnt
to dance from one of the
girls who had come to stay
at the house, and though
he felt shy just at first, he
was soon seen to show off.
“What a style he has in
face and form!” “How
sweet a grace in all he
does!” said his _ friends.
Till at last praise was all
that Tom could live on.
While the jest, the song,
and the dance went on,
Hal sat in a dark part of
the room to gaze on the



SANDFORD AND UERTON.



gay scene, when up came
Nash to tease him. Now
Nash did not like Maude
de Vere, while Hal, on his
part, thought of none but
her, for she was all in all
to him. Nash said he had
come to tell him of Miss
de Veres wish that he
should dance. It was in
vain that Hal told him that
he knew not a step, . for
Nash said he must stand
up, as Miss de Vere had
sent for him, and that if he
would just move through
the dance that would do.
Poor Hal made no doubt
at all of the truth of this
tale, so he rose from his
chair, and let Nash and his
friend take him up the long
room to the place where —
Maude stood. They did
not give Hal time to say
a word to her, for they led
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

him to her side at once,
and just at the right time
they gave a sign for the
band to strike up, which it
did.

Maude was much at a
loss to know how Hal
came to be in the dance
(as he had said that he
knew nota step); and still
more to see him dance with
her. Hal, who thought the
left hand was just as good
as the right, gave it, and
then gave the right hand
where it should have been
the left, and so on, which
made fine fun for those
who sat out, but, of course,
was no source of fun to
Maude, whose wish was
to close. the scene, so she
gave Hal both her hands,
and brought the dance to
an end: and soon they all
went to sup.



109

At the first sight of the
feast Hal could but gaze
on the bright cups and
plates of gold, the rich
robes of silk, the choice
wines and rare fruits, the
quick hand and still tread
of the black men, and all
that made up the bright
scene. But no one thought
it worth his while to wait
on Maude de Vere. And
when Hal saw this he ran
for some cake and wine,
which he put on a huge
tray to hand to her, if not
with quite so much grace,
at least with a heart more
kind than the rest. But
as Hal bent to let Maude
reach the glass, Nash made
a feint to catch his foot in
the rug, and fell so close
to Hal as to push him,
and thus sent all the wine

on Maude’s neck. This


ITO

brought a deep blush on
her cheeks, for she saw
that Nash meant to do it;
and Hal, who saw it too,
threw a glass full of wine
in his face. At this Nash,
who was a bad boy at
heart, flung a glass at Hal's
head; and a good thing
was it for Nash that it
gave him but a slight cut;
yet i made Hal iy on
Nash with a just wrath,
and a fierce fight took
place, which threw the
whole room in a fright;

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

but Mr. Merton soon came
up and put a stop to it.
Nash made out his tale.
But one tale is good till
the next is told. And Hal,
with all his truth of heart,
was firm in what he said,
and of course there was
Maude de Vere to turn the

‘scale on his side; so that

Mr. Merton soon saw how
the case stood, and -sent
Hal to have his wounds
bound up and his dress put
to rights, which was all red.
with blood. |



CHAPTER X

Tue next day, the young
folk who had come to the
ball were to dine at Mr.
Merton's and then go home.

They all took a walk;

and as they went with slow

steps on the heath, they saw
a great crowd, which they
found had come there to
look on at a bull bait. ‘All
the young boys from Mr.
Merton’s of course felt a
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

strong wish to see it; but

there was one thing that
stood in their way, which
was, that Mrs. Merton had
told them to keep a strict
look out that they ran no
risks in their walk.

~ “But,” said one of the
boys, “it is quite safe, for
there is to be a stake, to
which the bull will be
bound fast, so he can’t hurt
us.’ Then he gave an arch
smile, and said: “Why
need she know that we
have been here at all? I’m
sure I hope none of us
would be so mean as to
tell tales?”

“No! no! no!” was on
the lips of all but Hal, who
_ did not speak.

“Hal Sandford has not
said a word!” quoth one of
them. “Sure he will not

tell of us?”



Ill

“Nay,” said Hal; “I do
not wish to tell of you; but
if Mr. and Mrs. Merton
ask me where I have been,
what am I to say ?”

“What!” said the boy
who spoke first ; “can’t you
say that we took a walk on



the road, and say no more?”

flal.—“ No; for that
would not be the truth;
add to which, a bull bait is
a vile thing for the bull,
the dogs, and.the men, and
none of us ought to go to
it, least of all Mr. Tom
Merton, for they love him
at home too much for that.”

“A fine thing, to be sure,
for this young ape to take
on him all these airs’” said
this boy. “He 1s not more
wise than the rest of us!”
said that. And all the boys
took the same tone. But
Nash came to Hal face to
112



face, and, with a grin, said,
“So this is all you do for
Merton, is it? to turn spy,
you mean brat!” |

Hal, who had long seen
how cold Tom had grown,
felt more grief to find his
friend was mute while all
these jeers and taunts were
thrust at him than at the
jeers and taunts. And as
soon as the crowd of boys
would give him leave to
speak, he said, “I am not
more of a spy than the rest
of you, and I want no
more of you than you do
of me; but were I so poor
as to beg, I should not be
such a fool as to ask alms
of one of those who stand
here!”

This sharp speech was
too much for Tom, who
now came up to Hal with
a strut. and shook his fist



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

at him, while he said: “Do
you mean to taunt me?”

“Well done, Merton!
Thrash him well!” said all
the boys at once. :

“Take that,” said Tom,
and he struck Hal a blow
on the face.

Hal, who had not nerve
for this last taunt, said, “O
Mr. Tom, Mr. Tor, and
has it come to this!” and
then burst out in a loud
cry, and hid his face.

All the rest now set on—
the poor boy; but when
one of them took him by
the hair Hal was seen to
brush off his tears, look
up, and ask them with a
firm voice, “ Why do you
all wish to vex me?” ‘Then
he swung round, and broke
from those who had laid
hold of hirn.

Most of the boys fell


Hal saves lom from the Bull, at the risk of his own Life.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

113

eee but Nash: told him,}and now the whole troop

with a sneer, that this was
the way they treat all such
as he, and if he had not
had his fill they would give
him some more.

“As to that,” said Hal,
“though I let Mr. Mer-
ton’s son strike me, there
is not one of the rest that
shall do, it; or if he choose
to try, he shall soon find that
I know not what fear ts.”

At this Nash gave him
a blow on the face which
all but threw him down.
His size and strength were

twice as great as Hal's,

and he had gone through
scores of fights. The next
blow from Nash threw Hal
to the ground; but he soon
rose and struck out well.
Nash once more gave him
a hurl which sent him full
length on the rough road,

of boys came round them
to look on, and all stood
quite mute.

Nash had the most
strength and skill, nor was
one of the boys so old as
he by two or three years,
and to fight one who was
so much less in size, in
strength, and in years, was
not fair, nor was it brave.

But Hal had a frame
which had been made hard
by work, and could bear
pain or want; he was at
once more brisk, as well as
more cool than Nash, and
so brave that no one could
daunt him.

Four times had Hal
been thrown down by the
strength of his foe, and
four times did he rise from
these falls, just as strong
as he was at first.
114 .

Nash, on his. part, lost

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Nash could not rise, he put

strength from so long a
fight, and at the same time
he lost his skill, for he felt
so full of wrath that at last
he struck here and there,
and took no aim. His
breath grew short, and his
knees would scarce bear
his weight, yet rage and
shame drove him on, and
he made a rush with all his
might at Hal, as though he
had the wish to crush him
with one fell blow.

was to ward off each thrust
till such time as he should
see Nash grow faint, which
he soon did, and then he
came with a rush with all
his might which threw
down his foe.

A shout of praise now
burst from all the boys.
But when Hal found that

: dumb with



out his hand to help him
up, and told him he felt
much grief at what he
had done. But Nash was
shame and
pain.

Just at this time the bull
was led round the field,
with strips of red, blue,
and pink, which hung from
his head, till at last he was
brought up to the spot
where he was to fight.

_._ He was bound fast to a

All that Hal did now/|

strong ring in a post, which
was set in the ground, and
crowds had been drawn
there to see the mad sport.

The troop of young boys
who had come with Tom >
Merton could not now be
kept back, and all thoughts
of what had been told them
by their friends went from
their mind.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

LTS



Hal fell back—but kept
a close eye on Tom. No
scorn, no jeer, no blow
could make Hal cease to
love him, and screen him
HOMmpnauiien ae

Hal knew too well what
a bull bait was to quit Tom
till he had seen him once
more in asafe place. And
now the bull was made fast
to the ring by a thick cord.
Strong as the bull was, he
did not try to get from it;
but took a meek look round
him on the crowd, which
would seem to say, “ Why
should you wish to hurt
me?”

By and by a flerce dog
was let loose, which, when
he saw the bull, gave a
yell, and made up to him.
The bull, with a cool air,
let him come, but just as
the dog made a spring to



seize him, the bull made a
rush to meet his foe, put
his head to the ground,
and with a toss sent the
dog some yards up in the
air; and had not the men

run to catch him on their

backs or in their hands,
the fall would have been
the death of him. The
next dog met with the
same fate, and so a third,
and a fourth. One of
these fell dead on the spot,
one broke his leg in the
fall; and one with a howl.
anda limp got out of the
bull’s reach. Then there
was a pause in the sport.
In the mean time a poor
black man came up to ask
alms of the boys, and he
bade them look at the scars
on his face from wounds
he had had in the hunt,
and the shreds of dress
116



that would scarce hide his
limbs.

But these young guests
of Mr. Merton’s had been
brought up in ease and
wealth, their path in life

was a smooth one; and.

while from day to day their
board was spread with good
things, how should they
know how to feel for those
in want? It might so
chance that they had had
no friend at home to call
to their mind that Christ
our Lord was poor, and
that He had not where to
lay His head, and that His
chief care was to feed, heal,
- and help the poor, and if
so, that we ought to act
and feel as He did, and as
He would have us do.

But these young boys
made jests at the black
man for that his skin was



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



not of the same hue as their
own, and for that he was
poor, |

Tom (who had a warm
heart in spite of the bad
ways of those boys round
him) tonk out his purse to
give the poor man aid, but
found that he had no cash
in it, for it had all been
spent at cards. So the
black man then went round
to the place where Hal |
stood, and held out his old
hat to ask alms of him.
Hal had not much to give,
but what he had he threw
in the hat, and said: ‘There
is all I have, and if I had
more it should be yours.’
Hal had no time to say
much to him, for just then
three fierce dogs made a
rush all at once at the bull.
But their joint force was
too much for him, and a
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

wild rage took the place of
the calm look which he
had borne up to this time.

The bull was then heard
to roar with pain, his mouth
was full of foam and blood,
he tore round and round
the stake, and in fact went
mad.

All the dogs now set on
him at once, and bit all
parts of him. And in his
wrath he took the best aim
he could, first at this dog,
then at that tilly at” last
the rope which had so far
held him fast, snapped in
two and let him loose on
the crowd.

No pen would serve to
sketch the scene which now
took place. Where all had
been mirth and glee, came
shrieks. and cries which
rent the sky. The group,
which a short time since



, turn

117

was seen to turn a deaf ear
to all the kind hints that
Hal had thrown out, would
now give the whole world
to be safe at home.

Hal was the one boy to
keep up; he did not cry
or run, but when the bull
came close to him he leapt
on one side, and the fierce
brute went on.

No such luck had Tom,
for he was the last of all
the boys, and fell down in
the path which the bull
took. The mad beast tore
up to him, and death must
have been his doom had
not Hal gone up to the
bull with a prong (that had
been left in the road by
those who had run for their
lives), which he stuck in
his flank, and the wound
that it gave made the bull
sharp round from
18

Tom. Wild with rage, he
made at Hal, who would
have paid the price of that
aid he gave to his friend,
but just then the poor black
man made a rush at the
bull with a thick stick, and
with such skill as to turn
the rage of the fierce beast
from Hal to him. At the
same time he gave a jump
on one side (as Hal had
done), but soon came round,
and laid hold of the bull’s
tail, while at the same time
he hit his sides with hard
blows of the stick. In
vain did the mad brute
writhe in the pain, for his
brave foe clung on, and
did not quit his hold, nor
leave off the blows till the
bull grew faint. Some men
now came up, who threw a
rope round his head and
bound him to a tree.



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

In the mean time some
of Mr. Merton’s men, who
had been sent out in search
of the young boys, took
Tom up from the ground
where he lay, and though
he had no wounds, he was
next to dead from fear.

Hal did not go back to
Mr. Merton’s house with
the rest; for when he had
first seen that all was right —
with his friend Tom, he
went home to the farm,
and took with him the
black man, to whom they
all might be said to owe
their lives.

While these scenes went
on, Mrs. Merton, who sat at
home, felt that all was not
right with the young folk,
for they had been out so
long; though as yet she
had not heard that Tom

had been in the wars.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

Mrs. Count did not do!

much to soothe her friend's
fears, for now that poor

Hal was the theme, her|
sharp

words were like
swords, and her tongue
was full of gall.

While Mrs. Count was
in this frame of mind, Mr.
Merton by chance came in
the room, and he did all
he could to calm her tone;
but in vain, so he said,
“May bea short space of
time will’ serve to show
which kind of boys would
be the most fit friends for
our son; and till you can
find but one bad thing
that Hal has done, I could
not let you treat the poor
boy in so cold and harsh a
way.

Just then a maid ran in,
who said, with a voice that
was faint with fear, ‘“ Oh,

air with his horns.
John and James have got



11g

such a thing! Poor child,
poor dear child, poor dear
Mr. Tom!”

“What of him, Jane?
What of him?” said Mrs.
Merton.

“Nay,” quoth the maid,
“they told me he was not
much hurt; but that the
bad boy Sandford took him
to a bull bait, and the mad
bull gave him a toss in the

And

him in their arms to bring
him home.”

As soon as Mrs. Merton
heard these words she gave -
a loud shriek, and fell down
in a swoon, and while Mrs.
Count did her best to bring
her round, Mr. Mertor.
wHo ‘was pale with fear,
went out to learn the truth
of the tale.

He had not gone far
120



when he met the crowd of
young folk, and with them
Tom in the arms of the
groom. As soon as he
found that his son had’ no
hurt, save that of a great
fright, Mr. Merton made
as if he would fly back to
give this good news to his
wife; but she, poor soul,
was, on the spot, drawn
there by that love which
none but those who know
what it is to have a child
can tell, nor can they judge
of the rush of joy which
she felt when she saw her
-young son safe in her
arms.

By and by, when Mrs.
Merton's nerves were more
calm, she said: “Ah, Tom,
my sweet love, that wretch
of a boy has not had the!
face to come back with





your life.

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

him right if the bull would
fly at him!”

“What wretch of a boy
do you mean ?” said Tom.

Mrs. Merton.—“ Whom |
can I mean, my love, but
that vile Hal Sandford,
who has all but cost you
To think that
he should take you to a
bull bait!”

Tom.—“ He—he take
me toa bull bait! He did
all he could to keep me
from it; and it was I who
was in fault, for I took no
heed of what he said.”

At these words Mrs.
Merton held her breath.

Mr. Merton. — “Who
was it, then, that could
have been so rash, Tom ?”

Tom. — “Nay, we were
all to blame but Hal, who
I think would have gone

you, and it would serve|down on his knees to beg
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

of me not to join in so rash
a sport, for he said it would
give you so much pain if
you knew it, and that at a
bull bait no one’s life was
safe.” :

At this a blush came on
Mrs. Merton’s cheek; but
Mrs. Count threw out a
hint that it might be Hal's
fears that kept him out of
the way.

“No, Mrs. Count, no,”
said one of the boys; “it
was not Hal's fears that
kept him from the sport,
for he fought Nash in ‘too
brave a way for that. And
though Nash is twice as
big as Hal Sandford, and
fought well, yet Hal beat
him. While the bull bait
went on, I saw him keep
his eyes on us—that is, on
Tom-—but he did not join



us till the bull broke loose.” |



12)



“So ¢kzs is the boy that
you would cast off,” said
Mr. Merton. “But let us
hear more of this tale, for
as yet I know not what
risk Hal may have run,
nor how he got off with
his life.” |

At this, one of the men
who had stood to look on
at the scene, was had up to
tell all that he saw.

He spoke of Hal's fight
with Nash, and of the
brave way that. he drew
off the bull from Tom,
though he had just hit him
a blow on the face. i

That such a deed, so
brave and so well meant,
should have been done by
a child—and while he had
cause for spite, too—drew
loud praise from all in the
room.

Mrs. Merton was dumb
122

with shame at the ease
with which she had been
made a sort of foe to Hal,
who yet had twice stood
‘twixt her son and death.
And it was clear to all
how much more pure and
good was the heart of the
poor boy from the farm
than that of all those boys
of high rank who now
stood by to hear his praise
sung. But such is the
force of real worth, that
the young boys and girls
quite swept from their
thoughts Hal's want of
style and grace, and were
heard to praise his good
deeds to the skies.

Mr. Merton cast his eye
round the room to look for
Hal, but:as he could not
see him, he said with some
care in his face, ‘“‘ Where
can our young friend be.





SANDFORD AND MERTON.

to whom we owe so much?
I hope he is not hurt.”

“No, said one of the
grooms, “ Hal Sandford is
safe, sir, for 1 saw him go
on the road that leads to
his own home, and the
black man was with him.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Merton,
with a deep sigh, “I fear
this good and brave Hal
has not had fair play from
the rest of the boys. What
else could make him turn
from us in this way? And
now I call to mind that one
of you spoke of a blow on
the face that Hal had had;
sure, Tom, you could not
have been so base as to
strike the best friend you
have!”

At this, Tom hung down.
his head, his cheeks were
red with a blush that burnt
his face, and the tears one
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

123



by one ran down it. Look
up he could not, for shame,
and his heart was like to
break from grief.

Mrs. Merton saw this,
and would have claspt her
child to her breast, but Mr.
Merton, with some haste,
took him from her, and
calc lt 15 snot mow a
time to give way to love
for a child who has just
been found out to act the



most vile part that a man
or boy could be known to
take, and which is a cause
of deep shame to you and
me, my saean

At this, Tom burst out
in a fresh fit of tears, and
Mrs. Merton, who felt Mr.
Merton's words still more
than Tom did, took her
boy by the hand, and led

him out of the room.



CHAPTER XI.

Wutite Mr. Merton's mind
was full of thoughts which
rose out of what he had
just heard, he was glad to
have a call from Mr. Bar-
low, who just then came
in, and gave him a warm
shake of the hand; but he

saw such a gloom in Mr.



Merton's face that he had
fears that all was not right
with Tom. So he. said,
“How is your son?” that
Mr. Merton might talk of
him, which he did not fail |
to do. He put his hand
in Mr. Barlow’s, and said:
“Oh, my dear sir, I fear
124

all my hopes are at an end
in that boy; and that the
pains you have been at to
train him up in the way
he should go have borne
no fruit; for since he has
been home I have seen
no one thing in him but
pride.”

Mr. Barlow heard all
that he had to say, and
then bade him be of good
clicen (1 eelhe, vchildiiais
young, said he, “and so
there is hope; but we must
give him time. Now we
all know that it takes a
long time to change so
small a thing as speech,
but it is done at last: how
long then. must it take to
change the heart? Let
“us not give him up, Mer-
ton.” ;

Mr. Merton —* But Tom

seems now to have lost all





SANDFORD AND MERTON.



the good that he learnt
from you.”

Mr. Barlow. —* In my
mind all men are more
weak than bad. Do you
thinks that halittie = vice

that fills the world comes

from a bad heart? No, I
am sure it does not. To
be firm is the thing we all
want, to have it in us to
say ‘No,’ when that which
is wrong is set up for us
to join in.”

Mr. Merton.—“ What
you say is no doubt true.
But, oh, how base it was
of my boy to cast off his
best friend, with whom he
had spent so great a part
of his life! Nay, dear sir,

it will shock you to hear

that Tom went so far as to

istrike him a blow on the

face. You will, I fear, own
that this looks more like
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

a bad heart than a weak
will Mf
Mr. Barlow —“ 1 do not
feel at all sure that your
son wants warmth of heart.
Nay, I have seen signs—
sparks, as it were—from
a bright light that dwells
there, which may have
slept for a while, but shall
it not burst forth once
more? This rests with
you and me. For God,
who plants this light in a
' child’s breast, plants it there
for use, and if we take no
heed to put good oil in the
lamp, how can we hope to
keep up a bright light?
We will try once more,
Merton.”

Mr. Merton—* You give
me hopes, then ?”

Mr. Barlow.—*“1 do,
and what I plead for Tom

”
.

125



those proud boys of the

world with whom he has
been thrown. To tell you
the truth, from the time
that Tom left me, I have
had no rest, for the fear
that some of his young
friends here would spoil
him. And to be free with
you, Merton, I trace all
this harm to the bad tone
which your son drank in
when he was caught by
the high rank, the fine
names, the fine clothes, and
fine airs of those boys
whom you brought here
for him to make friends
with.

“How could we hope
that a young child should
be kept from that which
we men can scarce keep
free from? Now, just think,
sir, when a man _ makes

is this—the tone of self in| choice of a wife who is to
126 SANDFORD AND MERTON.



share his hearth with him
day by day, and year by
year, nay, is to be his friend
for life, and more than this,
is to raise up souls for the
life to come, which of us is
there that does not choose
her for her fair face? It is
that we fall in love with,
sir, the tint on her cheek,
the fine teeth, the voice,

the grace with which she

moves; but not her soul.

Well, then, should we not

grant to the young child,
in the hey day of life, at
least to be as weak as we
are, when he makes choice
of friends with whom to
pass the term of a high
day or two?”

These words sank deep
in the heart of Mr. Mer-
ton; grief and joy both
took their place there; grief

to find that he had been |





the cause of this sad change
in Tom, yet joy to bear
that grief, and think the
while that it was not so
much a bad heart in his
boy as the chance that had
thrown the snare in_ his
way.

The time had now come
for the young folk to take
their leave of Mr. and Mrs.
Merton; but Maude de
Vere was to stay, And

| when they were gone Tom

went to join Mr. Barlow,
who had set out for a walk.
Tom gave a look up in his
face as though he had some
grave thing to make known
to him; and when Mr.
Barlow saw this, he said:
“What is it you want, my
boy?”

“Nay, sir,” said Tom, “]
know not how to tell you.

But I have been a bad
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

127



boy, and I fear now that
you will love me no more.”

Mr. Barlow.—“ lf you
feel your faults, my dear
young friend, that is a
great step on the way to
mend them. Let me know
what it is you wish to tell
me, and if I can aid you,
I am sure I will.”

Zom.—“ Oh, sir! when
you speak to me in this
kind way it hurts me much
more than if you were in
a rage with me, for when
men are ina rage, one does
not much mind what they
say; but your kind tone
seems to pierce me to the
heart, for I know I am not
worth it.

Mr. Barlow. — But, my
boy, if you see that you
have done a wrong thing,

you may make up your.



Few boys or men are so
good as not to err at times,
and if you know your
faults, you can be on your
guard so as not to give
way to them.’

Tom.—* Then, sir, I will
tell you all that I did, for
it lies like a lump of lead
on my heart. You must
know, then, that as soon
as I got out of your sight,
I was a worse boy than
when I first came to
you.”

Mr. Barlow.—‘But why
should you take so harsh
a view of what you have
done? I hope it is not a
true one. You were by
no means free from faults
when you left me, you
know.”

Vo, =O ING, Sire lowe
what I have now done is

mind to do it no more.|ten times worse, for I have
128

been the most vile boy in
the world !”

Mr.
young friend, you make
me start! What can you
have done?”

Tom—“ That you must
judge, sir. When I went
home I found there such
a lot of nice boys—as I
thought—who had each
come from some grand
house, or some grand
school, and with such lots
of fun in them, that I took
to them at once, and when
Hal came to join us, I
thought him mean by the
side of them. It made me
blush to see his great red
hands hang down by his
side, as if he did not know
what to do with them.
Then you see, sir, he could
not dance; and he took up
a huge tray when he went

Barlow. — “My

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

to hand a glass of wine to.
one of the girls, and. fell
fast off in a deep sleep in
his chair while the songs
went on. I. tell you this,
sir, that you may know.
what it was that made me
such a bad boy. But now
Hal’s good and brave acts
have brought me to a right
sense of things, and I hate
my own self when I tnink
how mean I have been.”

Mr. Barlow.—“1 fear
this fine set of young boys
did not teach you much
that it was worth your
while to know.”

Tom— ‘No, sir, but I
did not think so then, and
so I did what I saw them

‘do, and would talk, as I

heard them talk, and I
grew such a fool that I
cast off Hal.”

Mr. Barlow—“ That was


Tom wrongs Hal, but owns his Faults, and now they are firm Friends,


SANDFORD AND MERTON.

sad, for I am sure he loves
you. But it will be all one
to him, for though you are
apt at most things, I do not
think he will learn how to
make land yield, or to raise
food, from what you can
tell him, Tom; so it will
be best to leave him to the
men of the farm (for this I
know has been Hal's taste
at all times) while you
keep to your new friends.
Be that as it may, I will
tell him that you have now
made a new choice, and
hint to him that I think it
will be best to give you up
as a friend from this time.”

Tom. — “Oh, sir, I did
~ not think you would treat
me so! I love Hal with all
my heart, and there is not
- a thing that I would not
do if he would but make
it up with me!”







129

Mr. Barlow. — “But
then, may be, all those
choice boys and girls will
give you up!”

Tom.— “1 care not if
they do, sir; but I fear I
have gone too far in my
bad ways for Hal to love
me as he did.”

Tom went on to tell Mr.
Barlow all the rest of the
sad tale, till his voice broke,
and he wept for some
time.

He then put this to Mr.
Barlow: “Do you think
Hal could make friends
with me once more?”

Mr. Barlow. — “ Tom,
I can’t screen from you the
truth, which is that I think
ill of what you have done.
But if your heart now tells
you that you did wrong,
and you say so to Hal, I
make no doubt that he will
130



put out his hand for you
to shake it.”

Loi == © lvarsin ee willl
you be so good as to bring
him here now ?”

MVE Baila ae okey,
stay, my dear young friend.
What is Hal to come here
for? Have you not east
him off, thrust him from
you, and gone so far as
to strike him in the face?
Do you think that flesh
and blood can stand this ?”

Tom. —‘“ What, — then,
must l%do. sirn* |

Mr. LBarlow.— “lf you
want to keep your friend,
it is for you to go to him.”

Tom.—“ What, sir! Go
to a farm, and show my
face to all the men there!”

Mr. Barlow.— Just now
| thought you told me that
there was not a thing that
you would not do, and yet

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

it 1s too much to call on
Hal at his own house.
You think, then, that to
act ill is noet’so bad as to
look as if you thought you
had done so.”

Tom.— But what would
all the folk say if they saw
the son of a rich squire go
down on his knees to the
son of aman who keeps a
farm?”

Mr. Barlow.— May be
they would say you had
more sense of wrongs done
than they thought ‘you
had; but you are to act as
you please; with the views
you still seem to hold, Hal
is nota fit friend for you,
and, as I said just now, —
it will be best for you to
keep to the new set of boys
that you have met with in
your own rank of life.”

Mr. Barlow then made
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

131



as if he would go, but Tom
burst out in a loud wail to
Degen mmm 10%) 101 leave
_ him, on which Mr. Barlow
said:

“T do not want to leave
you, Tom, but our talk is
aul aun ermal, Vom Seyiel! ti
Mme woN\ natewshall do
and I have told. you how
youmoughi oO actin syou
would gain back the love
of a good friend; but as
you do not like to do that
which I would have you
do, you must, of course, go
your own way.

“Pray, sir, pray, sir, do
not leave me!” said Tom,
with sobs of grief; “it was
base in me to treat Hal as
I did, most base! And so
they think at home, and if
you give me up, sir, I have
no friend left.”

Mr. Barlow. —- “ That



will be your own fault;
can you not keep all your
friends, and speak out what
you feel to each of them?
It would do the rich boys
good if you did; it would
please those at home; Hal
will be your friend once
Mone ancl Pshaller tain
well of you, as I have long
done.”

Lom. — “Can you think
Well POlme sity) canuayour
now that you have heard
Ae

Mr. Larlow.— As long
as | have known you I
have thought you vain and
proud Mora web eleciemtiie
same time, I think you
have the sense to see your
faults.”

Tom —* Dear sir, thank
you. Qh, sir, I will set
off at once and ask Hal to
make it up with me. But
132

SANDFORD AND MERTON.





will you come with me?) let fall his whip, and sprang

Do pray, sir, be so good.”

Mr. Barlow. — “ Stop,
stop, my young friend, you
will do things so fast! [
am glad you have made up
your mind to go; but I
would have you speak first
to those at home who love
you still, and tell them of
it, and, in the mean time,
I will go and call at the
feligirays

So Mr. Barlow set out
to Sandford farm. It stood
on a sweet spot on the side
Ob a ill) atthe: foot on
which ran a clear stream.
The house was small, but
warm, snug, and neat.

As Mr. Barlow came
up, he saw Sandford at the
plough, and Hal was at
the head of the horse. But
when Hal saw Mr. Barlow
come through the field, he



to meet him. As soon as
he had had a kind shake
of the hand from his friend,
he said: |

“How is Tom Merton,
sir? When I saw you come
through this field, I knew
you must have come from
Mr. Merton's.”

Mr. Barlow.— “Yes, |
have; but I grieve to find
that Tom and you are not
on such good terms as you
were.

ig) = some ce olgett
too, sir, yet I do not know
why this change has come
on Tom; but still, though |
he did not treat me so well
as he ought to have done, I
have a great wish to hear
that he is well.”

Mr. Barlow — That you
know, Hal, you might
have learnt if you had
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

123

vy



gone back to Mr. Merton's
house.”

flal.—* But how could
ithelp ite sic’ And since
you speak to me on the

Here poor Hal's voice
shook, so that he could not
go on.

Mr. Barlow. — “ Well,
fe albletemesvear Its

gl —= Nou know, Site
that I did not wish to go to
Mr. Merton’s, for I thought
that the boys and girls
there would laugh at my
ways, and make fun of me,
and I had my fears that
Tom would grow shy of
me at his own house.”

Mr. Barlow. — “Then
it did not strike you as
strange, Hal?”

Hlal.—* No, sir, I can't
say it did, for I find at all

times that they who are



rich do treat the poor in
the way that Tom did me.
But in this case I did not
see why it was to be done,
as I did not want to go
to Mr. Merton’s house. |
knew that I was not born
and bred in the same rank.
of life as the rest were; but
at your house, sir, it was
Tom Merton that sought
me out, not I him.”

Mr. Barlow—* This is
true, Hal.”
Hal—* How could such

a boy as I am get on ata
rich man’s house, with boys
and girls all round me that
curl their hair, and dress
as if forshow? If I spoke,
they would laugh at me,:
and do what I would, I
was sure to hear the word
‘clown!’ I don’t think you
would like their talk, sir.”

Mr. Barlow.—* But, Hal,
134

it you «did (not. like) tein
talk, you might have borne
Withiltiem-: tor van wine,
And, then, I have heard a
word or two of a fight you
had.”

Fal“ Ola sin | ewas
once in a great rage, but
- that I could not help, and
I hope you will not think
ill of me for it. There
was a Miss de Vere, oh,
such a kind young girl,
sir! She was the one girl
that did not laugh at me;
and there was a bad, bold
boy there, who was most
rude to her, and all for that
she spoke to me. What
could I do but take her

Span: a

Mr. Barlow. — “ Well,
Hal, I do not much blame
you. | But! why vdid you
run off and not give Mr.
Mertonone word of thanks,





SANDFORD AND MERTON.



when he has been so kind

to you?”
Figl== Any sin theawe
thought org thas) ancl

grieve much for it; but 1
did not leave Tom so long
as I could be of use to
him.” |

Hal then spoke of all
that took place at the bull
bait. which) (Mie Banlow,
said he had just heard.

“But, “quoth he, “there
is one thing, dear boy,
which I have not heard
you name, and that is, that
you drew the bull from
Tom so as to save his life.” |

Fig) NG tomtnaenrsite
I hope I should have done
the same for the least of
my friends. But I think
we should all have lost
our lives but for the black
man, who came up to save

”

us.
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

135



Mr. Barlow. —“ Hal, 1}

‘think well of you for all
that you have done; -but
do you mean to shake off
Tom Merton for this one
fault ot mise

VG == One no! But
you see, sir, though I am
poor, | do not care to be
much with those that scorn
me. Let him spend his
time with his own rich
friends; I care most for
those in my own rank of
life. Yet sure, sir, it 1s not
I that have thrown him
off, but he that has cast
me off.”

Mr. Barlow. —“ But if
Tom grieves for his fault,
and has the wish to come
to you and say-so, would
he gain your love once
more ?”

Fial-=“@Oh dear ‘sir 1

know well that he would:

t



not treat me with scorn,
taunt, and mock. me; not
he! It was the proud boys
round him that set him on
HO)

Mr. Barlow.— Well, he
wants much to see you, that
he may ask you to take
him to your heart once
more.

ffal—“ I will go to him
at once, sir. Yet there's
the plough, which I can't
leave just now, but soon
I will get a horse and come
to him.” |

Mr. Barlow. —‘‘No, Hal,
there is no need for that;
Tom has been a bad boy
to use you so ill, and it is
for him to come and say
sO to ou, Ihe leash Ine
can do is to call on you,
else who could trust him
for the time to come?”

Mr. Barlow then bade
136

Hal tell him where he
could find the black man.

Flal—“ He came home
with me, and he sleeps in
a small bed that we have
had put up in the barn for
him, and he has his meals
from the house; he works
hard on the farm, and
earns his bread.”

Mr. Barlow now took
leave of Hal, and went
back to Mr. Merton’s where
he found Tom with Maude
de Vere.

Tom hada book in his
hand, from which he read
to Maude this tale:

“One dark night a thief
came to a man’s house to
rob it, and when the house
dog heard him he gave a
loud bark. At this the
man of the house sprang
from his bed to look out,



SANDFORD AND MERTON.



hear the least sound; so he
bade the dog be still, and
then went. back to sleep.
The thief in the mean time
had hid in the shed in a
State, Ol = eneat feat, mult
when he found that the
dog was bound by a chain,
and did not now bark, he
crept to the door of the
house, and took out his
bunch of false keys to try
the lock. The dog saw
him, and set up his loud
bark, so the man of the
house put his head out
once more to look round
him, but as he saw no one,
and found that all was now
quite still, he said, in a
great rage: ‘Down, you
brute! down, I tell you!
You will not let one have a
wink of sleep!’ So at last
the dog left off, and in the

but saw no one, nor did he! mean time the thief made
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

his way to the house, and
-took all that he could find.
The next day, when the
man saw what had been
done, he said: ‘This will
teach me to give ear toa
true friend when he warns

> 99

me.

Tom. — “That's Hal’s
voice at the bull bait,
Maude! Dogs are so good
that I think they come next
to ourown race. Mr. Bar-
low tells me that no beasts
in a wild state can err, for
God gives them a sense
which guides them in the
right way at all times.”

Maude.—“ Yes; but
though this sense in brutes
is so true that it could not
err, still they have no sense
of right and wrong, as
man has. Man has the

right to fight for, and the

wrong to fight off; and but!



137



for this choice, no man
could be good or bad.”

Tom.—* Mr. Barlow told
me that this sense in brutes
serves to teach them to
know their foes, to bring
up their young, and to get
food; but what we call
mind and soul (which takes
the place of it in man) has
far more height.”

Maude.‘ Just so; and
more than this, brutes are
shut out from the world to
come.”

Tom put down the book,
and said. 1< 4 Dominate sou
ought, come what may,’
shall be round my coat
of arms when | am a
man.

Maude —‘* And you shall
have it on a ring till then,
which I hope you will
wear for my sake.”

Maude then went out
138

SANDFORD AND MERTON.

for a walk, but took with|the boy done?” said Mrs.

her a choice ing, to have
the words cut on it, and
when she came back, she
found Tom with Mr. and
Mrs. Merton, and Mr. Bar-
low; but there was such a
change in Tom’s dress, and
in his hair, that few would
know him. He had cut
off his curls: stript from
his dress all that was fine,
and his clothes were as
plain as could be.

“What in the world has



Miecrton: © wity,ciny, dean
you look quite a fright!
You have the air of a boy
at the plough, more than a
son of ours!”

Tom drew up, and said,
“IT am now what I ought
at all times to have been;
and I mean from this day
to bid good bye to all that
is proud and fine.”

Tom said this in so firm
and grave a tone, that no
one could smile at it.



CHAPTER XIL

Tue next day, Tom rose
at dawn, put on his new
dress, and then went to
Mr. Barlow’s, to ask him
to take him to the farm
house.

When they came near,
Tom caught sight of Hal,
who drove the sheep on
the marsh some way off.

He could not be kept back,

| but sprang on with all his
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

139



might, and when he got up
to Hal, he held his sides,
and could scarce speak for
want of breath. Hal knew
by his haste that all was
right, and it was a source
of great joy to Mr. Barlow
to see the two boys meet
like friends once more.

Mr. Barlow. —* I bring
you one who grieves much
for his faults, and comes to
own them.”

Lom —I have done so
much to wrong you, Hal,
that I feel I have no right
to hope that you will make
friends with me.”

flat. —“ Nay, I think
now but of what you were
at Mr. Barlow's.”

Tom. —“ Thank you,
Hal, thank you!
Shall all amye ite skecpacin
mind the way in which
you bore it all, and. the

IT hope I



way in which you now
make it up with me.”

Hal then led Tom by
the amd: ston awcmrall iat
neat house, where he saw
Sandford and his wife.

At the side of the fire
sat the black man who had
done so much for them at
the bull bait, and Tom
went up to him to give
him his thanks.

When they went to dine,
Tom sat down with the
rest. He ate a good meal,
and when they all rose, he
thought there would be no

|harm in a chat with the

black man on bull baits;
so he said, with some pomp
in his tone:

When ly callito: mind
the ease with which you
kept back that fierce brute,
I lcoktonvity thatsin your

part of the world you are
140

Siam) at that) kind Jor
sport !”

‘oS. ssaid) the | blacl
man, “it 1s not in my own
land that I was taught this
sort vol cport, » fom there
the beasts we hunt are
much more fierce. And
when I. brought to mind
how you white folk scoff
Ate us blacks. ol “own I
thought it strange to see
scores of you run off at
the sight of a tame bull!”

Tom's cheek had now a
shade more red in it, and
he held his tongue.

As night drew on, Mr.
Barlow made a move, and
gave his young friend a
hint that it grew late. But
Tom took him by the hand,
and told him he should
like to stay some time with
Hal. And then, with a

grace all his own, he said,



SANDFORD AND MERTON.

in a loud voice so that all
in the room should hear;
“The more I think of
what I have done, the
more shame do I feel.”
And then Tom threw his
eyes up to Mr. Barlow's
face. “ But you, dear sir,
have told me that all I can
now do is to say so. The
whole of my life shall I
feel a sense of the great
love that Hal.has shown
for me, when I gave him
so much cause to hate me.”
Hal threw his arms
round Tom's neck, and all
the rest stood mute to see
the rich squire’s son tell
out his faults to the plain
folk of the farm house.
They then sat down to
sup, and Tom ate his bread
and cheese with a great
Zest.
The next day he rose at
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

I4l



five oclock, yet he found} with Tom, and the eee

it a hard task to wake
up at such an hour. But
Tom's pride in his new
mode of life brought him
through it, for he thought
of what Mr. Merton would
say, as well as Mr. Bar-
low and all in the house,
if he could not be firm.
So he leapt out of bed,
put on his dress, and went
to work on the farm with
Hal.

In a short time Tom
found this new kind of life
a good one; he ate well,
and his health got strong
by it.

Day by day Mr. Barlow
made a call on his young
friend, for he took this stay
at the farm house to be the
turn point in Tom’s life.

Each day would Mr.

Barlow go round the farm





man told them tales of the
hunt.

This went on from week’s
end to week’s end, when
one day Mr. Merton came
to, call) and (he gave his
dear boy a hug and a kiss
at the door, and told him
he had now come to take
him back to his own home.

“Mr. Barlow speaks so
well of you,” said he, “that
I shall dwell no more on
the past, and I now feel
proud, dear boy, to call
you my son.”

Tom.— Oh, yes; I shall
be so glad to come home
to you both, and stay at
home now, and love you,
as you say you will both
love me!”

Just then in came Mr.
Sandford, who made a
bow to his guest, and bade
142

SANDFORD AND MERTON.



him walk in. Mr. Merton
said, “I beg to thank you,
Sandford, with all my heart,
for what you and your son
have done for Tom; for he
is not like the same boy.”
He then put a purse full
of bank notes in Sandford’s
hand. :

“What is this?” said he,
when he saw the notes;
but he shut up the purse
willl mUchy cane, pul sit
back in Mr. Merton’s hand,
and told him, with thanks,
that he could not take it.

“No!” said Mr. Merton,
‘Swhy not? Your ‘cine
may want it; and there's
your son, too, and your
own self, Sandford; for
you may feel the want of
ease some day—oh, pray
take it.”

“No, sir, no,” said he,

with a shake of the head:



“what is it but this ease
that, docseiall | the minagms
Ah, sity it syomodid ay aut
know the peace one feels
when one guides the plough
with a good team, and then
goes to bed to sleep all
night like a top, you might
wish you had been brought
up to the plough. But if
you would not do a harm
to a whole race of Sand-
fords, pray leave us as we
are.”
They all then sat down
to dine, and Mr. Barlow
came to join them.

At the end of the meal
in’ ran Hal. “Oh, such a
team!—such a fine team
stands at our back door!”

‘said he; and then Hal said

to Mr. Sandford, “The
man told me it is for you!”
- Sandford ran out to look
at it, and, when he came
SANDFORD AND MERTON.

143



back, he said to Mr. Mer-
ton, “I did not think you
had been such a_ good
judge of a horse! I guess
you have sent these nags
for me to say what I think
of them. Well, then, all I
can say is that they are
the best breed of horse in
the world, and the best of
that breed!”

“Such as they are,” said

Wie Wviicitons | tev are
Volos ancl cant think
you will say ‘No’ this

time, Sandford.”

Sandford stood mute for
some time to gain breath,
when Tom came up to him
and said:

“Pray dont say you will
not take them, for the team
was meant more for Hal
than for you.”

Sandford felt that in that

case he must needs take



the oilpy so Hen sent tigavo
the farm amcdeycarehe aeslit
beats Knowles’ team all to
bits, which has long been
thougint they isest ain) tall
these parts.”

When he had seen to
the wants of the black man,
Mr. Merton took his leave;
and while Tom rose to
bid his hosts fare well, he
said to his young friend,
oy) cant thank (you (toe
much, Hal, for the two
great truths which I have
learnt from you.”

Flal.—* Pray, what are
they ?”

Tom.— The words of
one of them are on this
ring—read them.”

Hal reads—*“ Do what
your ought.) come witat
may.”

Tom.— Now read the
words on ¢fzs ring, which


i
:



144 SANDFORD AND MERTON.

your friend Maude de| Zom.—“I chose the

Vere sends you.” words, Hal, but the truth
Hal reads— “If we|of them I have learnt from

would be great, we must| you.”

first learn to be good.”