The History of Sandford and Merton Part 4

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Some of these creatures even ventured to enter the outer room of the hut, in order to devour them."

_P. 86._]

"Sure," exclaimed Tommy, "such a life as that must have been miserable and dreadful indeed." "Why so?" said Mr Barlow. _Tommy._--Because, being always in danger of being devoured by wild beasts, those men must have been always unhappy. _Mr B._--And yet they never were devoured.

_T._--No, sir; because they made weapons to defend themselves. _Mr B._--Perhaps, then, a person is not unhappy merely because he is exposed to danger, for he may escape from it, but because he does not know how to defend himself. _T._--I do not exactly understand you, sir. _Mr B._--I will give you an instance. Were you not very unhappy when the snake coiled itself round your leg, because you imagined it would bite you? _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--But Harry was not unhappy. _T._--That is very true, sir. _Mr B._--And yet he was in more danger of being bitten than yourself, because he took hold of it. _T._--Indeed he did. _Mr B._--But he knew that by boldly seizing it, and flinging it away, he was in very little danger; had you, therefore, known the same, you probably would neither have feared so much nor have been so unhappy as you were. _T._--Indeed, sir, that is true; and, were such an accident to happen again, I think I should have courage enough to do the same. _Mr B._--Should you then be as unhappy now as you were the first time?

_T._--By no means, because I have a great deal more courage. _Mr B._--Why, then, persons that have courage are not so unhappy as those that are cowardly when they are exposed to danger. _T._--Certainly not, sir. _Mr B._--And that must be equally true in every kind of danger.

_T._--Indeed, it must; for I have sometimes heard my mother shriek out when she was pa.s.sing in a coach through a small stream of water, while my father only laughed at her. _Mr B._--Why, then, if she had possessed as much courage, perhaps she would have laughed too. _T._--Indeed, I believe she might; for I have sometimes seen her laugh at herself, when it was over, for being so cowardly. _Mr B._--Why, then, it is possible that when these men found they were so well able to defend themselves against the bears, they might no longer be afraid of them; and, not being afraid, they would not be unhappy. _T._--Indeed, I believe so. _Mr B._--Let us now continue.

"The three different kinds of animals above mentioned--viz., the reindeer, the blue and white foxes, and the white bears--were the only food these wretched mariners tasted during their continuance in this dreary abode. We do not at once see every resource; it is generally necessity which quickens our invention, opening by degrees our eyes, and pointing out expedients which otherwise might never have occurred to our thoughts. The truth of this observation our four sailors experienced in various instances. They were for some time reduced to the necessity of eating their meat almost raw, and without either bread or salt, for they were quite dest.i.tute of both. The intenseness of the cold, together with the want of proper conveniences, prevented them from cooking their victuals in a proper manner. There was but one stove in the hut, and that being set up agreeable to the Russian taste, was more like an oven, and consequently not well adapted for boiling anything. Wood also was too precious a commodity to be wasted in keeping up two fires; and the one they might have made out of their habitation to dress their victuals would in no way have served to warm them. Another reason against their cooking in the open air was the continual danger of an attack from the white bears. And here I must observe that, suppose they had made the attempt it would still have been practicable for only some part of the year; for the cold, which in such a climate for some months scarcely ever abates, from the long absence of the sun, then enlightening the opposite hemisphere,--the inconceivable quant.i.ty of snow, which is continually falling through the greatest part of the winter, together with the almost incessant rains at certain seasons,--all these were almost insurmountable to that expedient. To remedy, therefore, in some degree the hards.h.i.+p of eating their meat raw, they bethought themselves of drying some of their provisions during the summer in the open air, and afterwards of hanging it up in the upper part of the hut, which, as I mentioned before, was continually filled with smoke down to the windows; it was thus dried thoroughly by the help of that smoke. This meat so prepared, they used for bread, and it made them relish their other flesh the better, as they could only half-dress it. Finding this experiment answer in every respect to their wishes, they continued to practise it during the whole time of their confinement upon the island, and always kept up, by that means, a sufficient stock of provisions.

Water they had in summer from small rivulets that fell from the rocks, and in winter from the snow and ice thawed. This was of course their only beverage; and their small kettle was the only vessel they could make use of for this and other purposes. I have mentioned above that our sailors brought a small bag of flour with them to the island. Of this they had consumed about one-half with their meat; the remainder they employed in a different manner equally useful. They soon saw the necessity of keeping up a continual fire in so cold a climate, and found that, if it should unfortunately go out, they had no means of lighting it again; for though they had a steel and flints, yet they wanted both match and tinder. In their excursions through the island they had met with a slimy loam, or a kind of clay nearly in the middle of it. Out of this they found means to form a utensil which might serve for a lamp, and they proposed to keep it constantly burning with the fat of the animals they should kill. This was certainly the most rational scheme they could have thought of; for to be without a light in a climate where, during winter, darkness reigns for several months together, would have added much to their other calamities----"

_Tommy._--Pray, sir, stop. What! are there countries in the world where it is night continually for several months together? _Mr Barlow._--Indeed there are. _T._--How can that be? _Mr B._--How happens it that there is night at all? _T._--How happens it! It must be so, must it not? _Mr B._--That is only saying that you do not know the reason.

But do you observe no difference here between night and day? _T._--Yes, sir, it is light in the day and dark in the night. _Mr B._--But why is it dark in the night? _T._--Really I do not know. _Mr B._--What! does the sun s.h.i.+ne every night? _T._--No, sir, certainly not. _Mr B._--Then it only s.h.i.+nes on some nights, and not on others. _T._--It never s.h.i.+nes at all in the night. _Mr B._--And does it in the day? _T._--Yes, sir.

_Mr B._--Every day? _T._--Every day, I believe, only sometimes the clouds prevent you from seeing it. _Mr B._--And what becomes of it in the night? _T._--It goes away, so that we cannot see it. _Mr B._--So, then, when you can see the sun, it is never night. _T._--No, sir. _Mr B._--But when the sun goes away the night comes on. _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--And when the sun comes again what happens? _T._--Then it is day again; for I have seen the day break, and the sun always rises presently after. _Mr B._--Then if the sun were not to rise for several months together, what would happen? _T._--Sure, it would always remain night, and be dark. _Mr B._--That is exactly the case with the countries we are reading about.

"Having therefore fas.h.i.+oned a kind of lamp, they filled it with reindeer's fat, and stuck into it some twisted linen shaped into a wick; but they had the mortification to find that, as soon as the fat melted, it not only soaked into the clay but fairly ran out of it on all sides.

The thing, therefore, was to devise some means of preventing this inconvenience, not arising from cracks, but from the substance of which the lamp was made being too porous. They made, therefore, a new one, dried it thoroughly in the air, then heated it red-hot, and afterwards quenched it in their kettle, wherein they had boiled a quant.i.ty of flour down to the consistence of thin starch. The lamp being thus dried and filled with melted fat, they now found, to their great joy, that it did not leak; but for greater security they dipped linen rags in their paste, and with them covered all its outside. Succeeding in this attempt, they immediately made another lamp for fear of an accident, that at all events they might not be dest.i.tute of light; and, when they had done so much, they thought proper to save the remainder of their flour for similar purposes. As they had carefully collected whatever happened to be cast on sh.o.r.e, to supply them with fuel, they had found amongst the wrecks of vessels some cordage and a small quant.i.ty of oak.u.m (a kind of hemp used for caulking s.h.i.+ps), which served them to make wicks for their lamps. When these stores began to fail, their s.h.i.+rts and their drawers (which are worn by almost all the Russian peasants) were employed to make good the deficiency. By these means they kept their lamp burning without intermission, from the day they first made it (a work they set about soon after their arrival on the island) until that of their embarkation for their native country.

"The necessity of converting the most essential part of their clothing, such as their s.h.i.+rts and drawers, to the use above specified, exposed them the more to the rigour of the climate. They also found themselves in want of shoes, boots, and other articles of dress; and as winter was approaching, they were again obliged to have recourse to that ingenuity which necessity suggests, and which seldom fails in the trying hour of distress. They had skins of reindeer and foxes in plenty, that had hitherto served them for bedding, and which they now thought of employing in some more essential service; but the question was how to tan them. After deliberating on this subject, they took to the following method: they soaked the skins for several days in fresh water till they could pull off the hair very easily; they then rubbed the wet leather with their hands till it was nearly dry, when they spread some melted reindeer fat over it, and again rubbed it well. By this process the leather became soft, pliant, and supple--proper for answering every purpose they wanted it for. Those skins which they designed for furs they only soaked one day, to prepare them for being wrought, and then proceeded in the manner before-mentioned, except only that they did not remove the hair. Thus they soon provided themselves with the necessary materials for all the parts of dress they wanted. But here another difficulty occurred; they had neither awls for making shoes or boots, nor needles for sewing their garments. This want, however, they soon supplied by means of the pieces of iron they had occasionally collected.

Out of these they made both, and by their industry even brought them to a certain degree of perfection. The making eyes to their needles gave them indeed no little trouble, but this they also performed with the a.s.sistance of their knife; for, having ground it to a very sharp point, and heated red-hot a kind of wire forged for that purpose, they pierced a hole through one end; and by whetting and smoothing it on stones, brought the other to a point, and thus gave the whole needle a very tolerable form. Scissors to cut out the skin were what they next had occasion for; but having none, their place they supplied with the knife; and, though there was neither shoemaker nor tailor amongst them, yet they had contrived to cut out the leather and furs well enough for their purpose. The sinews of the bears and the reindeer--which, as I mentioned before, they had found means to split--served them for thread; and thus, provided with the necessary implements, they proceeded to make their new clothes."

"These," said Mr Barlow, "are the extracts which I have made from this very extraordinary story; and they are sufficient to show both the many accidents to which men are exposed, and the wonderful expedients which may be found out, even in the most dismal circ.u.mstances." "It is very true, indeed," answered Tommy; "but pray what became of these poor men at last?" "After they had lived more than six years upon this dreary and inhospitable coast," answered Mr Barlow, "a s.h.i.+p arrived there by accident, which took three of them on board, and carried them in safety to their own country." "And what became of the fourth?" said Tommy.

"He," said Mr Barlow, "was seized with a dangerous disease, called the scurvy; and, being of an indolent temper, and therefore not using the exercise which was necessary to preserve his life, after having lingered some time, died, and was buried in the snow by his companions."

CHAPTER III.

Harry's Chicken--Tommy tries kindness on the Pig--Account of the Elephant--Story of the Elephant and the Tailor--Story of the Elephant and the Child--Stories of the Good Natured Boy and the Ill Natured Boy--The Boys determine to Build a House--Story of the Grateful Turk--The Boys' House blown down--They rebuild it stronger--The Roof lets in the Rain--At last is made Water-tight.

Here little Harry came in from his father's house, and brought with him the chicken, which, it had been mentioned, he had saved from the claws of the kite. The little animal was now perfectly recovered of the hurt it had received, and showed so great a degree of affection to its protector, that it would run after him like a dog, hop upon his shoulder, nestle in his bosom, and eat crumbs out of his hand. Tommy was extremely surprised and pleased to remark its tameness and docility, and asked by what means it had been made so gentle. Harry told him he had taken no particular pains about it; but that, as the poor little creature had been sadly hurt, he had fed it every day till it was well; and that, in consequence of that kindness, it had conceived a great degree of affection towards him.

"Indeed," said Tommy, "that is very surprising; for I thought all birds had flown away whenever a man came near them, and that even the fowls which are kept at home would never let you touch them." _Mr B._--And what do you imagine is the reason of that? _T._--Because they are wild.

_Mr B._--And what is a fowl's being wild? _T._--When he will not let you come near him. _Mr B._--Then a fowl is wild because he will not let you come near him. This is saying nothing more than that when a fowl is wild he will not let you approach him. But I want to know what is the reason of his being wild. _T._--Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because they are naturally so. _Mr B._--But if they were naturally so, this fowl could not be fond of Harry. _T._--That is because he is so good to it. _Mr B._--Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal to run away from a person that is good to him? _T._--No, sir; I believe not. _Mr B._--But when a person is not good to him, or endeavours to hurt him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it not?

_T._--Yes. _Mr B._--And then you say he is wild, do you not? _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--Why, then, it is probable that animals are only wild because they are afraid of being hurt, and that they only run away from the fear of danger. I believe you would do the same from a lion or a tiger. _T._--Indeed I would, sir. _Mr B._--And yet you do not call yourself a wild animal? Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said No.

"Therefore," said Mr Barlow, "if you want to tame animals, you must be good to them, and treat them kindly, and then they will no longer fear you, but come to you and love you." "Indeed," said Harry, "that is very true; for I knew a little boy that took a great fancy to a snake that lived in his father's garden; and, when he had the milk for breakfast, he used to sit under a nut tree and whistle, and the snake would come to him and eat out of his bowl." _T._--And did it not bite him? _H._--No; he sometimes used to give it a pat with his spoon, if it ate too fast; but it never hurt him.

Tommy was much pleased with this conversation; and, being both good-natured and desirous of making experiments, he determined to try his skill in taming animals. Accordingly, he took a large slice of bread in his hand, and went out to seek some animal that he might give it to.

The first thing that he happened to meet was a sucking pig that had rambled from its mother, and was basking in the sun. Tommy would not neglect the opportunity of showing his talents; he therefore called Pig, pig, pig! come hither, little pig! But the pig, who did not exactly comprehend his intentions, only grunted, and ran away. "You little ungrateful thing," said Tommy, "do you treat me in this manner, when I want to feed you? If you do not know your friends I must teach you." So saying this, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by the hind-leg, intending to have given him the bread which he had in his hand; but the pig, who was not used to be treated in that manner, began struggling and squeaking to that degree, that the sow, who was within hearing, came running to the place, with all the rest of the litter at her heels. As Tommy did not know whether she would be pleased with his civilities to her young one or not, he thought it most prudent to let it go; and the pig, endeavouring to escape as speedily as possible, unfortunately ran between his legs and threw him down. The place where this accident happened was extremely wet; therefore Tommy, in falling, dirtied himself from head to foot; and the sow, who came up at that instant, pa.s.sed over him, as he attempted to rise, and rolled him back again into the mire.

Tommy, who was not the coolest in his temper, was extremely provoked at this ungrateful return for his intended kindness; and, losing all patience, he seized the sow by the hind-leg and began pommelling her with all his might, as she attempted to escape. The sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such treatment, but endeavoured with all her force to escape; but Tommy still keeping his hold, and continuing his discipline, she struggled with such violence as to drag him several yards, squeaking at the same time in the most lamentable manner, in which she was joined by the whole litter of pigs.

During the heat of this contest a large flock of geese happened to be crossing the road, into the midst of which the affrighted sow ran headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her heels. The goslings retreated with the greatest precipitation, joining their mournful cackling to the general noise; but a gander of more than common size and courage, resenting the unprovoked attack which had been made upon his family, flew at Tommy's hinder parts, and gave him several severe strokes with his bill.

Tommy, whose courage had hitherto been unconquerable, being thus unexpectedly attacked by a new enemy, was obliged to yield to fortune, and not knowing the precise extent of his danger, he not only suffered the sow to escape, but joined his vociferations to the general scream.

This alarmed Mr Barlow, who, coming up to the place, found his pupil in the most woeful plight, daubed from head to foot, with his face and hands as black as those of any chimney-sweeper. He inquired what was the matter; and Tommy, as soon as he had recovered breath enough to speak, answered in this manner: "Sir, all this is owing to what you told me about taming animals; I wanted to make them tame and gentle, and to love me, and you see the consequences." "Indeed," said Mr Barlow, "I see you have been ill-treated, but I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing to anything I have said, I shall feel the more concern." "No," said Tommy, "I cannot say that I am much hurt." "Why, then," said Mr Barlow, "you had better go and wash yourself; and, when you are clean, we will talk over the affair together."

When Tommy had returned, Mr Barlow asked him how the accident had happened? and when he had heard the story, he said, "I am very sorry for your misfortune; but I do not perceive that I was the cause of it, for I do not remember that I ever advised you to catch pigs by the hinder leg." _Tommy._--No, sir; but you told me that feeding animals was the way to make them love me; and so I wanted to feed the pig. _Mr B._--But it was not my fault that you attempted it in a wrong manner. The animal did not know your intentions, and therefore, when you seized him in so violent a manner, he naturally attempted to escape, and his mother hearing his cries, very naturally came to his a.s.sistance. All that happened was owing to your inexperience. Before you meddle with any animal, you should make yourself acquainted with his nature and disposition, otherwise you may fare like the little boy that, in attempting to catch flies, was stung by a wasp; or like another that, seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it for an eel, and was bitten by it, which had nearly cost him his life. _T._--But, sir, I thought Harry had mentioned a little boy that used to feed a snake without receiving any hurt from it. _Mr B._--That might very well happen; there is scarcely any creature that will do hurt, unless it is attacked or wants food; and some of these reptiles are entirely harmless, others not; therefore the best way is not to meddle with any till you are perfectly acquainted with its nature. Had you observed this rule, you never would have attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order to tame it; and it is very lucky that you did not make the experiment upon a larger animal, otherwise you might have been as badly treated as the tailor was by the elephant. _T._--Pray, sir, what is this curious story? But first tell me, if you please, what an elephant is?

"An elephant," said Mr Barlow, "is the largest land animal that we are acquainted with. It is many times thicker than an ox, and grows to the height of eleven or twelve feet. Its strength, as may be easily imagined, is prodigious; but it is at the same time so very gentle, that it rarely does hurt to anything, even in woods where it resides. It does not eat flesh, but lives upon the fruits and branches of trees. But what is most singular about its make is, that, instead of a nose, it has a long hollow piece of flesh, which grows over its mouth to the length of three or four feet; this is called the trunk of the elephant; and he is capable of bending it in every direction. When he wants to break off the branch of a tree, he twists his trunk round it, and snaps it off directly; when he wants to drink, he lets it down into the water, sucks up several gallons at a time, and then, doubling the end of it back, discharges it all into his mouth."

"But if he is so large and strong," said Tommy, "I should suppose it must be impossible ever to tame him." "So perhaps it would," replied Mr Barlow, "did they not instruct those that have been already tamed to a.s.sist in catching others." _T._--How is that, sir? _Mr B._--When they have discovered a forest where these animals resort, they make a large enclosure with strong pales and a deep ditch, leaving only one entrance to it, which has a strong gate left purposely open. They then let one or two of their tame elephants loose, who join the wild ones, and gradually entice them into the enclosure. As soon as one of these has entered, a man, who stands ready, shuts the gate, and takes him prisoner. The animal, finding himself thus entrapped, begins to grow furious, and attempts to escape; but immediately two tame ones, of the largest size and greatest strength, who have been placed there on purpose, come up to him, one on each side, and beat him with their trunks till he becomes more quiet. A man then comes behind, ties a very large cord to each of his hind-legs, and fastens the other end of it to two great trees. He is then left without food for some hours, and in that time generally becomes so docile as to suffer himself to be conducted to the stable that is prepared for him, where he lives the rest of his life like a horse, or any other sort of domestic animal. _T._--And pray, sir, what did the elephant do to the tailor? "There was," said Mr Barlow, "at Surat, a city where many of these tame elephants are kept, a tailor, who used to sit and work in his shed, close to the place to which these elephants were led every day to drink. This man contracted a kind of acquaintance with one of the largest of these beasts, and used to present him with fruits and other vegetables whenever the elephant pa.s.sed by his door. The elephant was accustomed to put his long trunk in at the window, and to receive in that manner whatever his friend chose to give. But one day the tailor happened to be in a more than ordinary ill-humour, and not considering how dangerous it might prove to provoke an animal of that size and strength, when the elephant put his trunk in at the window as usual, instead of giving him anything to eat, he p.r.i.c.ked him with his needle. The elephant instantly withdrew his trunk, and, without showing any marks of resentment, went on with the rest to drink; but, after he had quenched his thirst, he collected a large quant.i.ty of the dirtiest water he could find in his trunk--which I have already told you is capable of holding many gallons--and, when he pa.s.sed by the tailor's shop, in his return, he discharged it full in his face, with so true an aim, that he wetted him all over, and almost drowned him; thus justly punis.h.i.+ng the man for his ill-nature and breach of friends.h.i.+p."

"Indeed," said Harry, "considering the strength of the animal, he must have had a great moderation and generosity not to have punished the man more severely; and therefore, I think it is a very great shame to men ever to be cruel to animals, when they are so affectionate and humane to them."

"You are very right," said Mr Barlow; "and I remember another story of an elephant, which, if true, is still more extraordinary. These animals, although in general they are as docile and obedient to the person that takes care of them as a dog, are sometimes seized with a species of impatience which makes them absolutely ungovernable. It is then dangerous to come near them, and very difficult to restrain them. I should have mentioned, that in the Eastern parts of the world, where elephants are found, the kings and princes keep them to ride upon as we do horses; a kind of tent or pavilion is fixed upon the back of the animal, in which one or more persons are placed; and the keeper that is used to manage him sits upon the neck of the elephant, and guides him by means of a pole with an iron hook at the end. Now, as these animals are of great value, the keeper is frequently severely punished if any accident happens to the animal by his carelessness. But one day, one of the largest elephants, being seized with a sudden fit of pa.s.sion, had broken loose; and, as the keeper was not in the way, n.o.body was able to appease him, or dared to come near him. While, therefore, he was running about in this manner, he chanced to see the wife of his keeper (who had often fed him as well as her husband), with her young child in her arms, with which she was endeavouring to escape from his fury. The woman ran as fast as she was able; but, finding that it was impossible for her to escape, because these beasts, although so very large, are able to run very fast, she resolutely turned about, and throwing her child down before the elephant, thus accosted him, as if he had been capable of understanding her: "You ungrateful beast, is this the return you make for all the benefits we have bestowed! Have we fed you, and taken care of you, by day and night, during so many years, only that you may at last destroy us all? Crush, then, this poor innocent child and me, in return for the services that my husband has done you!" While she was making these pa.s.sionate exclamations, the elephant approached the place where the little infant lay, but, instead of trampling upon him, he stopped short, and looked at him with earnestness, as if he had been sensible of shame and confusion; and, his fury from that instant abating, he suffered himself to be led without opposition to his stable."

Tommy thanked Mr Barlow for these two stories, and promised for the future to use more discretion in his kindness to animals.

The next day Tommy and Harry went into the garden to sow the wheat which Harry had brought with him, upon a bed which Tommy had dug for that purpose.

While they were at work, Tommy said, "Pray, Harry, did you ever hear the story of the men that were obliged to live six years upon that terrible cold country (I forget the name of it), where there is nothing but snow and ice, and scarcely any other animals, but great bears, that are ready to eat men up?" _Harry._--Yes, I have. _T._--And did not the very thoughts of it frighten you dreadfully? _H._--No; I cannot say they did.

_T._--Why, should you like to live in such a country? _H._--No, certainly; I am very happy that I was born in such a country as this, where the weather is scarcely ever too hot or too cold; but a man must bear patiently whatever is his lot in this world. _T._--That is true.

But should you not cry, and be very much afflicted, if you were left upon such a country? _H._--I should certainly be very sorry if I was left there alone, more especially as I am not big enough, or strong enough, to defend myself against such fierce animals; but the crying would do me no good; it would be better to do something, and endeavour to help myself. _T._--Indeed I think it would; but what could you do?

_H._--Why, I should endeavour to build myself a house, if I could find myself materials. _T._--And what materials is a house made of? I thought it had been impossible to make a house without having a great many people of different trades, such as carpenters and bricklayers.

_H._--You know there are houses of different sizes. The houses that the poor people live in are very different from your father's house.

_T._--Yes, they are little, nasty, dirty, disagreeable places; I should not like to live in them at all. _H._--And yet the poor are in general as strong and healthy as the rich. But if you could have no other, you would rather live in one of them than be exposed to the weather?

_T._--Yes, certainly. And how would you make one of them? _H._--If I could get any wood, and had a hatchet, I would cut down some branches of trees, and stick them upright in the ground, near to each other.

_T._--And what then? _H._--I would then get some other branches, but more full of small wood; and these I would interweave between them, just as we make hurdles to confine the sheep; and then, as that might not be warm enough to resist the wind and cold, I would cover them over, both within and without, with clay. _T._--Clay! what is that? _H._--It is a particular kind of earth, that sticks to your feet when you tread upon it, or to your hands when you touch it. _T._--I declare I did not think it had been so easy to make a house. And do you think that people could really live in such houses? _H._--Certainly they might, because many persons live in such houses here; and I have been told that in many parts of the world they have not any other. _T._--Really, I should like to try to make a house; do you think, Harry, that you and I could make one? _H._--Yes, if I had wood and clay enough, I think I could, and a small hatchet to sharpen the stakes and make them enter the ground.

Mr Barlow then came to call them in to read, and told Tommy that, as he had been talking so much about good-nature to animals, he had looked him out a very pretty story upon the subject, and begged that he would read it well. "That I will," said Tommy; "for I begin to like reading extremely; and I think that I am happier too since I learned it, for now I can always divert myself." "Indeed," answered Mr Barlow, "most people find it so. When any one can read he will not find the knowledge any burthen to him, and it is his own fault if he is not constantly amused.

This is an advantage, Tommy, which a gentleman, since you are so fond of the word, may more particularly enjoy, because he has so much time at his own disposal; and it is much better that he should distinguish himself by having more knowledge and improvement than others, than by fine clothes, or any such trifles, which any one may have that can purchase them as well as himself."

Tommy then read, with a clear and distinct voice, the following story of

"THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY."

"A little boy went out one morning to walk to a village about five miles from the place where he lived, and carried with him in a basket the provision that was to serve him the whole day. As he was walking along, a poor little half-starved dog came up to him, wagging his tail, and seeming to entreat him to take compa.s.sion on him. The little boy at first took no notice of him, but at length, remarking how lean and famished the creature seemed to be, he said, 'This animal is certainly in very great necessity; if I give him part of my provision, I shall be obliged to go home hungry myself; however, as he seems to want it more than I do, he shall partake with me.' Saying this, he gave the dog part of what he had in the basket, who ate as if he had not tasted victuals for a fortnight.

"The little boy then went on a little farther, his dog still following him, and fawning upon him with the greatest grat.i.tude and affection, when he saw a poor old horse lying upon the ground, and groaning as if he was very ill; he went up to him, and saw that he was almost starved, and so weak that he was unable to rise. 'I am very much afraid,' said the little boy, 'if I stay to a.s.sist this horse, that it will be dark before I can return; and I have heard that there are several thieves in the neighbourhood; however, I will try--it is doing a good action to attempt to relieve him; and G.o.d Almighty will take care of me.' He then went and gathered some gra.s.s, which he brought to the horse's mouth, who immediately began to eat with as much relish as if his chief disease was hunger. He then fetched some water in his hat, which the animal drank up, and seemed immediately to be so much refreshed that, after a few trials, he got up and began grazing.

"The little boy then went on a little farther, and saw a man wading about in a pond of water, without being able to get out of it, in spite of all his endeavours. 'What is the matter, good man,' said the little boy to him; 'can't you find your way out of this pond?' 'No, G.o.d bless you, my worthy master, or miss,' said the man, 'for such I take you to be by your voice; I have fallen into this pond, and know not how to get out again, as I am quite blind, and I am almost afraid to move for fear of being drowned.' 'Well,' said the little boy, 'though I shall be wetted to the skin, if you will throw me your stick I will try to help you out of it.' The blind man then threw the stick to that side on which he heard the voice; the little boy caught it, and went into the water, feeling very carefully before him, lest he should unguardedly go beyond his depth; at length he reached the blind man, took him very carefully by the hand, and led him out. The blind man then gave him a thousand blessings, and told him he could grope out his way home; and the little boy ran on as hard as he could, to prevent being benighted.

"But he had not proceeded far before he saw a poor sailor, who had lost both his legs in an engagement by sea, hopping along upon crutches. 'G.o.d bless you, my little master!' said the sailor; 'I have fought many a battle with the French, to defend poor old England; but now I am crippled, as you see, and have neither victuals nor money, although I am almost famished.' The little boy could not resist the inclination to relieve him; so he gave him all his remaining victuals, and said, 'G.o.d help you, poor man! this is all I have, otherwise you should have more.'

He then ran along and presently arrived at the town he was going to, did his business, and returned towards his own home with all the expedition he was able.

"But he had not gone much more than half-way before the night shut in extremely dark, without either moon or stars to light him. The poor little boy used his utmost endeavours to find his way, but unfortunately missed it in turning down a lane which brought him into a wood, where he wandered about a great while without being able to find any path to lead him out. Tired out at last, and hungry, he felt himself so feeble that he could go no farther, but set himself down upon the ground, crying most bitterly. In this situation he remained for some time, till at last the little dog, who had never forsaken him, came up to him wagging his tail, and holding something in his mouth. The little boy took it from him, and saw it was a handkerchief nicely pinned together, which somebody had dropped, and the dog, had picked up, and on opening it he found several slices of bread and meat, which the little boy ate with great satisfaction, and felt himself extremely refreshed with his meal.

'So,' said the little boy, 'I see that if I have given you a breakfast, you have given me a supper; and a good turn is never lost, done even to a dog.'

"He then once more attempted to escape from the wood, but it was to no purpose; he only scratched his legs with briers and slipped down in the dirt, without being able to find his way out. He was just going to give up all further attempts in despair, when he happened to see a horse feeding before him, and, going up to him, saw, by the light of the moon, which just then began to s.h.i.+ne a little, that it was the very same he had fed in the morning. 'Perhaps,' said the little boy, 'this creature, as I have been so good to him, will let me get upon his back, and he may bring me out of the wood; as he is accustomed to feed in this neighbourhood.' The little boy then went up to the horse, speaking to him and stroking him, and the horse let him mount his back without opposition, and then proceeded slowly through the wood, grazing as he went, till he brought him to an opening which led to the high road. The little boy was much rejoiced at this, and said, 'If I had not saved this creature's life in the morning, I should have been obliged to have stayed here all night; I see by this, that a good turn is never lost.'

"But the poor little boy had yet a greater danger to undergo; for, as he was going down a solitary lane, two men rushed out upon him, laid hold of him, and were going to strip him of his clothes; but just as they were beginning to do it, the little dog bit the leg of one of the men with so much violence, that he left the little boy and pursued the dog, that ran howling and barking away. In this instant a voice was hard that cried out, 'There the rascals are; let us knock them down!' which frightened the remaining man so much that he ran away, and his companion followed him. The little boy then looked up, and saw it was the sailor whom he had relieved in the morning, carried upon the shoulders of the blind man whom he had helped out of the pond. 'There, my little dear,'

said the sailor, 'G.o.d be thanked! we have come in time to do you a service, in return for what you did us in the morning. As I lay under a hedge I heard these villains talk of robbing a little boy, who, from the description, I concluded must be you; but I was so lame that I should not have been able to come time enough to help you, if I had not meet this honest blind man, who took me upon his back while I showed him the way.'

"The little boy thanked him very sincerely for thus defending him; and they went all together to his father's house, which was not far off, where they were all kindly entertained with a supper and a bed. The little boy took care of his faithful dog as long as he lived, and never forgot the importance and necessity of doing good to others, if we wish them to do the same to us."