Chapter IV (1)

The Boys' Garden--The Crocodile--The Farmer's Wife--How to make
Cider--The Bailiffs take possession of the Farmer's
Furniture--Tommy pays the Farmer's Debt--Conclusion of the Story of
the Grateful Turk--The three Bears--Tommy and the Monkey--Habits of
the Monkey--Tommy's Robin Redbreast--Is killed by a Cat--The Cat
punished--The Laplanders--Story of a Cure of the Gout.

Some time had now elapsed since the seeds of the wheat were sown, and they began to shoot so vigorously that the blade of the corn appeared green above the ground, and increased every day in strength. Tommy went to look at it every morning, and remarked its gradual increase with the greatest satisfaction. "Now," said he to Harry, "I think we should soon be able to live if we were upon a desert island. Here is a house to shelter us from the weather, and we shall soon have some corn for food." "Yes," answered Harry; "but there are a great many things still wanting to enable us to make bread."

Mr Barlow had a very large garden, and an orchard full of the finest fruit-trees; and he had another piece of ground where he used to sow seeds in order to raise trees, and then they were carefully planted out in beds till they were big enough to be moved into the orchard and produce fruit. Tommy had often eaten of the fruit of the orchard, and thought it delicious, and this led him to think that it would be a great improvement to their house if he had a few trees that he might set near it, and which would shelter it from the sun and hereafter produce fruit; so he asked Mr Barlow to give him a couple of trees, and Mr Barlow told him to go into the nursery and take his choice. Accordingly Tommy went, and chose out two of the strongest-looking trees he could find, which, with Harry's assistance, he transplanted into the garden in the following manner:--They both took their spades and very carefully dug the trees up without injuring their roots; then they dug two large holes in the place where they chose the trees should stand, and very carefully broke the earth to pieces, that it might lie light upon the roots; then the tree was placed in the middle of the hole, and Tommy held it upright while Harry gently threw the earth over the roots, which he trod down with his feet in order to cover them well. Lastly, he stuck a large stake in the ground and tied the tree to it, from the fear that the wintry wind might injure it, or perhaps entirely blow it out of the ground.

Nor did they bound their attention here. There was a little spring of water which burst forth from the upper ground in the garden, and ran down the side of the hill in a small stream. Harry and Tommy laboured very hard for several days to form a new channel, to lead the water near the roots of their trees, for it happened to be hot and dry weather, and they feared their trees might perish from the want of moisture.

Mr Barlow saw them employed in this manner with the greatest satisfaction. He told them that in many parts of the world the excessive heat burned up the ground so much that nothing would grow unless the soil was watered in that manner. "There is," said he, "a country in particular, called Egypt, which has always been famous for its fertility, and for the quantity of corn that grows in it, which is naturally watered in the following extraordinary manner:--There is a great river called the Nile, which flows through the whole extent of the country; the river, at a particular time of the year, begins to overflow its banks, and, as the whole country is flat, it very soon covers it all with its waters. These waters remain in this situation several weeks, before they have entirely drained off; and when that happens, they leave the soil so rich that everything that is planted in it flourishes and produces with the greatest abundance."

"Is not that the country, sir," said Harry, "where that cruel animal the crocodile is found?" "Yes," answered Mr Barlow. "What is that, sir?" said Tommy. "It is an animal," answered Mr Barlow, "that lives sometimes upon the land, sometimes in the water. It comes originally from an egg, which the old one lays and buries in the sand. The heat of the sun then warms it during several days, and at last a young crocodile is hatched. This animal is at first very small; it has a long body and four short legs, which serve it both to walk with upon the land and to swim with in the waters. It has, besides, a long tail, or rather the body is extremely long, and gradually grows thinner till it ends in a point. Its shape is exactly like that of a lizard; or, if you have never seen a lizard, did you never observe a small animal, of some inches long, which lives at the bottom of ditches and ponds?" "Yes, sir, I have," answered Tommy, "and I once caught one with my hand, taking it for a fish; but when I had it near me, I saw it had four little legs, so I threw it into the water again for fear the animal should be hurt." "This animal," answered Mr Barlow, "may give you an exact idea of a young crocodile; but as it grows older it gradually becomes bigger, till at last, as I have been informed, it reaches the length of twenty or thirty feet." "That is very large," said Tommy; "and does it do any harm?" "Yes," said Mr Barlow, "it is a very voracious animal, and devours everything it can seize. It frequently comes out of the water and lives upon the shore, where it resembles a large log of wood; and if any animal unguardedly comes near, it snaps at it on a sudden, and if it can catch the poor creature, devours it." _T._--And does it never devour men? _Mr B._--Sometimes, if it surprises them; but those who are accustomed to meet with them frequently easily escape. They run round in a circle, or turn short on a sudden, by which means the animal is left far behind; because, although he can run tolerably fast in a straight line, the great length of his body prevents him from turning with ease. _T._--This must be a dreadful animal to meet with; is it possible for a man to defend himself against it? _Mr B._--Everything is possible to those that have courage and coolness; therefore many of the inhabitants of those countries carry long spears in their hands, in order to defend themselves from those animals. The crocodile opens his wide voracious jaws in order to devour the man; but the man takes this opportunity and thrusts the point of his spear into the creature's mouth, by which means he is generally killed upon the spot. Nay, I have even heard that some will carry their hardiness so far as to go into the water in order to fight the crocodile there. They take a large splinter of wood about a foot in length, strong in the middle, and sharpened at both ends; to this they tie a long and tough cord. The man who intends to fight the crocodile takes this piece of wood in his right hand, and goes into the river, where he wades till one of these creatures perceives him. As soon as that happens the animal comes up to him to seize him, extending his wide and horrid jaws, which are armed with several rows of pointed teeth; but the man, with the greatest intrepidity, waits for his enemy, and the instant he approaches thrusts his hand, armed with the splinter of wood, into his terrible mouth, which the creature closes directly, and by these means forces the sharp points into each of his jaws, where they stick fast. He is then incapable of doing hurt, and they pull him to the shore by the cord. "Pray, sir," said Tommy, "is this dreadful animal capable of being tamed?" "Yes," answered Mr Barlow; "I believe, as I have before told you, there is no animal that may not be rendered mild and inoffensive by good usage. There are several parts of Egypt where tame crocodiles are kept; these animals, though of the largest size, never do hurt to anything, but suffer every one to approach them, and even little children to play about them and ride securely upon their enormous backs."

This account diverted Tommy very much. He thanked Mr Barlow for giving him this description of the crocodile, and said he should like to see every animal in the world. "That," answered Mr Barlow, "would be extremely difficult, as almost every country produces some kind which is not found in other parts of the world; but if you will be contented to read the descriptions of them which have been written, you may easily gratify your curiosity."

It happened about this time that Tommy and Harry rose early one morning and went to take a long walk before breakfast, as they used frequently to do; they rambled so far that at last they both found themselves tired, and sat down under a hedge to rest. While they were here a very clean and decently-dressed woman passed by, who, seeing two little boys sitting by themselves, stopped to look at them; and, after considering them attentively, she said, "You seem, my little dears, to be either tired or to have lost your way." "No, madam," said Harry, "we have not lost our way, but we have walked farther than usual this morning, and we wait here a little while to rest ourselves." "Well," said the woman, "if you will come into my little house--that you see a few yards farther on--you may sit more comfortably; and as my daughter has by this time milked the cows, she shall give you a mess of bread and milk."

Tommy, who was by this time extremely hungry as well as tired, told Harry that he should like to accept the good woman's invitation; so they followed her to a small but clean looking farm-house which stood at a little distance. Here they entered a clean kitchen, furnished with very plain but convenient furniture, and were desired to sit down by a warm and comfortable fire, which was made of turf. Tommy, who had never seen such a fire, could not help inquiring about it, and the good woman told him that poor people like her were unable to purchase coals; "therefore," said she, "we go and pare the surface of the commons, which is full of grass and heath and other vegetables, together with their roots all matted together; these we dry in small pieces, by leaving them exposed to the summer's sun, and then we bring them home and put them under the cover of a shed, and use them for our fires." "But," said Tommy, "I should think you would hardly have fire enough by these means to dress your dinner; for I have by accident been in my father's kitchen when they were dressing the dinner, and I saw a fire that blazed up to the very top of the chimney." The poor woman smiled at this, and said, "Your father, I suppose, master, is some rich man, who has a great deal of victuals to dress, but we poor people must be more easily contented." "Why," said Tommy, "you must at least want to roast meat every day?" "No," said the poor woman, "we seldom see roast-beef at our house; but we are very well contented if we can have a bit of fat pork every day, boiled in a pot with turnips; and we bless God that we fare so well, for there are many poor souls, who are as good as we, that can scarcely get a morsel of dry bread."

As they were conversing in this manner, Tommy happened to cast his eyes on one side, and saw a room that was almost filled with apples. "Pray," said he, "what can you do with all these apples? I should think you would never be able to eat them, though you were to eat nothing else." "That is very true," said the woman, "but we make cider of them." "What!" cried Tommy, "are you able to make that sweet pleasant liquor they call cider? and is it made of apples?" _The Woman._--Yes, indeed it is. _Tommy._--And pray how is it made? _The Woman._--We take the apples when they are ripe and squeeze them in a machine we have for that purpose. Then we take this pulp, and put it into large hair-bags, which we press in a large press till all the juice runs out. _Tommy._--And is this juice cider? _The Woman._--You shall taste, little master, as you seem so curious.

She then led him into another room, where there was a great tub full of the juice of apples, and, taking some up in a cup, she desired him to taste whether it was cider. Tommy tasted, and said it was very sweet and pleasant, but not cider. "Well," said the woman, "let us try another cask." She then took out some liquor of another barrel, which she gave him, and Tommy, when he had tasted it, said that it really was cider. "But pray," said he, "what do you do to the apple-juice to make it cider?" _The Woman._--Nothing at all. _Tommy._--How, then, should it become cider? for I am sure what you gave me at first is not cider. _The Woman._--Why, we put the juice into a large cask, and let it stand in some warm place, where it soon begins to ferment. _Tommy._--Ferment! pray, what is that? _The Woman._--You shall see.

She then showed him another cask, and bade him observe the liquor that was in it. This he did, and saw it was covered all over with a thick scum and froth. _Tommy._--And is this what you call fermentation? _The Woman._--Yes, master. _Tommy._--And what is the reason of it? _The Woman._--That I do not know, indeed; but when we have pressed the juice out, as I told you, we put it into a cask and let it stand in some warm place, and in a short time it begins to work or ferment of itself, as you see; and after this fermentation has continued some time, it acquires the taste and properties of cider, and then we draw it off into casks and sell it, or else keep it for our own use. And I am told this is the manner in which they make wine in other countries. _Tommy._--What! is wine made of apples, then? _The Woman._--No, master; wine is made of grapes, but they squeeze the juice out, and treat it in the same manner as we do the juice of the apples. _Tommy._--I declare this is very curious indeed. Then cider is nothing but wine made of apples?

While they were conversing in this manner a little clean girl came and brought Tommy an earthen porringer full of new milk, with a large slice of brown bread. Tommy took it, and ate with so good a relish that he thought he had never made a better breakfast in his life.

When Harry and he had eaten their breakfast, Tommy told him it was time they should return home, so he thanked the good woman for her kindness, and putting his hand into his pocket, pulled out a shilling, which he desired her to accept. "No, God bless you, my little dear!" said the woman, "I will not take a farthing off you for the world. What though my husband and I are poor, yet we are able to get a living by our labour, and give a mess of milk to a traveller without hurting ourselves."

Tommy thanked her again, and was just going away when a couple of surly-looking men came in and asked the woman if her name was _Tosset_. "Yes, it is," said the woman: "I have never been ashamed of it." "Why then," said one of the men, pulling a paper out of his pocket, "here is an execution against you, on the part of Mr Richard Gruff; and if your husband does not instantly discharge the debt, with interest and all costs, amounting altogether to the sum of thirty-nine pounds ten shillings, we shall take an inventory of all you have, and proceed to sell it by auction for the discharge of the debt."

"Indeed," said the poor woman, looking a little confused, "this must certainly be a mistake, for I never heard of Mr Richard Gruff in all my life, nor do I believe that my husband owes a farthing in the world, unless to his landlord; and I know that he has almost made up half-a-year's rent for him: so that I do not think he would go to trouble a poor man." "No, no, mistress," said the man, shaking his head, "we know our business too well to make these kind of mistakes; but when your husband comes in we'll talk with him; in the meantime we must go on with our inventory."

The two men then went into the next room, and immediately after, a stout, comely-looking man, of about the age of forty, came in, with a good-humoured countenance, and asked if his breakfast was ready. "Oh, my poor dear William," said the woman, "here is a sad breakfast for you! but I think it cannot be true that you owe anything; so what the fellows told me must be false about Richard Gruff." At this name the man instantly started, and his countenance, which was before ruddy, became pale as a sheet. "Surely," said the woman, "it cannot be true, that you owe forty pounds to Richard Gruff?" "Alas!" answered the man, "I do not know the exact sum; but when your brother Peter failed, and his creditors seized all that he had, this Richard Gruff was going to send him to jail, had not I agreed to be bound for him, which enabled him to go to sea. He indeed promised to remit his wages to me, to prevent my getting into any trouble upon that account; but you know it is now three years since he went, and in all that time we have heard nothing about him." "Then," said the woman, bursting into tears, "you, and all your poor dear children are ruined for my ungrateful brother; for here are two bailiffs in the house, who are come to take possession of all you have, and to sell it."

At this the man's face became red as scarlet, and seizing an old sword which hung over the chimney, he cried out, "No, it shall not be; I will die first; I will make these villains know what it is to make honest men desperate." He then drew the sword, and was going out in a fit of madness, which might have proved fatal either to himself or to the bailiffs, but his wife flung herself upon her knees before him, and, catching hold of his legs, besought him to be more composed. "Oh, for heaven's sake, my dear, dear husband," said she, "consider what you are doing! You can do neither me nor your children any service by this violence; instead of that, should you be so unfortunate as to kill either of these men, would it not be murder? and would not our lot be a thousand times harder than it is at present?"

This remonstrance seemed to have some effect upon the farmer; his children too, although too young to understand the cause of all this confusion, gathered round him, and hung about him, sobbing in concert with their mother. Little Harry too, although a stranger to the poor man before, yet with the tenderest sympathy took him by the hand and bathed it with his tears. At length, softened and overcome by the sorrows of those he loved so well, and by his own cooler reflections, he resigned the fatal instrument, and sat himself down upon a chair, covering his face with his hands, and only saying, "The will of God be done!"

Tommy had beheld this affecting scene with the greatest attention, although he had not said a word; and now beckoning Harry away, he went silently out of the house, and took the road which led to Mr Barlow's. While he was on the way, he seemed to be so full of the scene which he had just witnessed that he did not open his lips; but when he came home he instantly went to Mr Barlow and desired that he would directly send him to his father's. Mr Barlow stared at the request, and asked him what was the occasion of his being so suddenly tired with his residence at the vicarage. "Sir," answered Tommy, "I am not the least tired, I assure you; you have been extremely kind to me, and I shall always remember it with the greatest gratitude; but I want to see my father immediately, and I am sure, when you come to know the occasion, you will not disapprove of it." Mr Barlow did not press him any further, but ordered a careful servant to saddle a horse directly and take Tommy home before him.

Mr and Mrs Merton were extremely surprised and over-joyed at the sight of their son, who thus unexpectedly arrived at home; but Tommy, whose mind was full of the project he had formed, as soon as he had answered their first questions, accosted his father thus--"Pray, sir, will you be angry with me if I ask you for a great favour?" "No, surely," said Mr Merton, "that I will not." "Why, then," said Tommy, "as I have often heard you say that you were very rich, and that if I was good I should be rich too. Will you give me some money?" "Money!" said Mr Merton; "yes, to be sure; how much do you want?" "Why, sir," said Tommy, "I want a very large sum indeed." "Perhaps a guinea," answered Mr Merton. _Tommy._--No, sir, a great deal more--a great many guineas. _Mr Merton._--Let us however see. _T._--Why, sir, I want at least forty pounds. "Bless the boy!" answered Mrs Merton; "surely Mr Barlow must have taught him to be ten times more extravagant than he was before." _T._--Indeed, madam, Mr Barlow knows nothing about the matter. "But," said Mr Merton, "what can such an urchin as you want with such a large sum of money?" "Sir," answered Tommy, "that is a secret; but I am sure when you come to hear it, you will approve of the use I intend to make of it." _Mr M._--That I very much doubt. _T._--But, sir, if you please, you may let me have this money, and I will pay you again by degrees. _Mr M._--How will you ever be able to pay me such a sum? _T._--Why, sir, you know you are so kind as frequently to give me new clothes and pocket-money; now, if you will only let me have this money, I will neither want new clothes nor anything else till I have made it up. _Mr M._--But what can such a child as you want with all this money? _T._--Pray, sir, wait a few days and you shall know; and if I make a bad use of it, never believe me again as long as I live.

Mr Merton was extremely struck with the earnestness with which his son persevered in the demand; and, as he was both very rich and liberal, he determined to hazard the experiment, and comply with his request. He accordingly went and fetched him the money which he asked for, and put it into his hands, telling him at the same time that he expected to be acquainted with the use he put it to; and that, if he was not satisfied with the account, he would never trust him again. Tommy appeared in ecstasies at the confidence that was reposed in him, and, after thanking his father for his extraordinary goodness, he desired leave to go back again with Mr Barlow's servant.

When he arrived at Mr Barlow's, his first care was to ask Harry to accompany him again to the farmer's house. Thither the two little boys went with the greatest expedition; and, on their entering the house, found the unhappy family in the same situation as before. But Tommy, who had hitherto suppressed his feelings, finding himself now enabled to execute the project he had formed, went up to the good woman of the house, who sat sobbing in a corner of the room, and, taking her gently by the hand, said, "My good woman, you were very kind to me in the morning, and therefore I am determined to be kind to you in return." "God bless you, my little master," said the woman, "you are very welcome to what you had; but you are not able to do anything to relieve our distress." "How do you know that?" said Tommy; "perhaps I can do more for you than you imagine." "Alas!" answered the woman, "I believe you would do all you could; but all our goods will be seized and sold, unless we can immediately raise the sum of forty pounds; and that is impossible, for we have no earthly friend to assist us; therefore my poor babes and I must soon be turned out of doors, and God alone can keep them from starving."

Tommy's little heart was too much affected to keep the woman longer in suspense; therefore, pulling out his bag of money, he poured it into her lap, saying, "Here, my good woman, take this and pay your debts, and God bless you and your children!" It is impossible to express the surprise of the poor woman at the sight; she stared wildly round her, and upon her little benefactor, and, clasping her hands together in an agony of gratitude and feeling, she fell back in her chair with a kind of convulsive motion. Her husband, who was in the next room, seeing her in this condition, ran up to her, and catching her in his arms, asked her with the greatest tenderness what was the matter; but she, springing on a sudden from his embraces, threw herself upon her knees before the little boy, sobbing and blessing with a broken inarticulate voice, embracing his knees and kissing his feet. The husband, who did not know what had happened, imagined that his wife had lost her senses; and the little children, who had before been skulking about the room, ran up to their mother, pulling her by the gown, and hiding their faces in her bosom. But the woman, at the sight of them, seemed to recollect herself, and cried out, "Little wretches, who must all have been starved without the assistance of this little angel; why do you not join with me in thanking him?" At this the husband said, "Surely, Mary, you must have lost your senses. What can this young gentleman do for us or to prevent our wretched babes from perishing?" "Oh, William," said the woman, "I am not mad, though I may appear so; but look here, William, look what Providence has sent us by the hands of this little angel, and then wonder not that I should be wild." Saying this, she held up the money, and at the sight her husband looked as wild and astonished as she. But Tommy went up to the man, and, taking him by the hand, said, "My good friend, you are very welcome to this; I freely give it you; and I hope it will enable you to pay what you owe, and to preserve these poor little children." But the man, who had before appeared to bear his misfortunes with silent dignity, now burst into tears and sobbed like his wife and children; but Tommy, who now began to be pained with this excess of gratitude, went silently out of the house, followed by Harry; and, before the poor family perceived what had become of him, was out of sight.

When he came back to Mr Barlow's that gentleman received him with the greatest affection, and when he had inquired after the health of Mr and Mrs Merton, asked Tommy whether he had forgotten the story of the grateful Turk. Tommy told him he had not, and should now be very glad to hear the remainder; which Mr Barlow gave him to read, and was as follows:--

"CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF THE GRATEFUL TURK."

"When Hamet had thus finished his story, the Venetian was astonished at the virtue and elevation of his mind; and after saying everything that his gratitude and admiration suggested, he concluded with pressing him to accept the half of his fortune, and to settle in Venice for the remainder of his life. This offer Hamet refused with the greatest respect, but with a generous disdain; and told his friend that, in what he had done, he had only discharged a debt of gratitude and friendship. 'You were,' said he, 'my generous benefactor; you had a claim upon my life by the benefit you had already conferred; that life would have been well bestowed had it been lost in your service; but since Providence hath otherwise decreed, it is a sufficient recompense to me to have proved that Hamet is not ungrateful, and to have been instrumental to the preservation of your happiness.'

"But though the disinterestedness of Hamet made him underrate his own exertions, the merchant could not remain contented without showing his gratitude by all the means within his power. He therefore once more purchased the freedom of Hamet, and freighted a ship on purpose to send him back to his own country; he and his son then embraced him with all the affection that gratitude could inspire, and bade him, as they thought, an eternal adieu.

"Many years had now elapsed since the departure of Hamet into his own country, without their seeing him, or receiving any intelligence from him. In the mean time the young Francisco, the son of the merchant, grew up to manhood; and as he had acquired every accomplishment which tends to improve the mind or form the manners, added to an excellent disposition, he was generally beloved and esteemed.

"It happened that some business about this time made it necessary for him and his father to go to a neighbouring maritime city; and as they thought a passage by sea would be more expeditious, they both embarked in a Venetian vessel, which was on the point of sailing to that place. They set sail, therefore, with favourable winds, and every appearance of a happy passage; but they had not proceeded more than half their intended voyage, before a Turkish corsair (a ship purposely fitted out for war) was seen bearing down upon them, and as the enemy exceeded them much in swiftness they soon found that it was impossible to escape. The greater part of the crew belonging to the Venetian vessel were struck with consternation, and seemed already overcome with fear; but the young Francisco, drawing his sword, reproached his comrades with their cowardice, and so effectually encouraged them that they determined to defend their liberty by a desperate resistance. The Turkish vessel now approached them in awful silence, but in an instant the dreadful noise of the artillery was heard, and the heavens were obscured with smoke intermixed with transitory flashes of fire. Three times did the Turks leap with horrid shouts upon the deck of the Venetian vessel, and three times were they driven back by the desperate resistance of the crew, headed by young Francisco. At length the slaughter of their men was so great that they seemed disposed to discontinue the fight, and were actually taking another course. The Venetians beheld their flight with the greatest joy, and were congratulating each other upon their successful valour and merited escape, when two more ships on a sudden appeared in sight, bearing down upon them with incredible swiftness before the wind. Every heart was now chilled with new terrors, when, on their nearer approach, they discovered the fatal ensigns of their enemies, and knew that there was no longer any possibility either of resistance or escape. They therefore lowered their flag (the sign of surrendering their ship), and in an instant saw themselves in the power of their enemies, who came pouring in on every side with the rage and violence of beasts of prey.

"All that remained alive of the brave Venetian crew were loaded with fetters, and closely guarded in the hold of the ship till it arrived at Tunis.

"They were then brought out in chains, and exposed in the public market to be sold for slaves. They had there the mortification to see their companions picked out one by one, according to their apparent strength and vigour, and sold to different masters. At length a Turk approached, who, from his look and habit, appeared to be of superior rank, and after glancing his eye over the rest with an expression of compassion, he fixed them at last upon young Francisco, and demanded of the captain of the ship what was the price of that young man. The captain answered that he would not take less than five hundred pieces of gold for that captive. 'That,' said the Turk, 'is very extraordinary, since I have seen you sell those that much exceed him in vigour, for less than a fifth part of that sum.' 'Yes,' answered the captain, 'but he shall either pay me some part of the damage he has occasioned, or labour for life at the oar.' 'What damage,' answered the other, 'can he have done you more than all the rest whom you have prized so cheaply?' 'He it was,' replied the captain, 'who animated the Christians to that desperate resistance which cost me the lives of so many of my brave sailors. Three times did we leap upon their deck, with a fury that seemed irresistible, and three times did that youth attack us with such cool determined opposition that we were obliged to retreat ingloriously, leaving at every charge twenty of our number behind. Therefore, I repeat it, I will either have that price for him, great as it may appear, or else I will gratify my revenge by seeing him drudge for life in my victorious galley.'

"At this the Turk examined young Francisco with new attention; and he who had hitherto fixed his eyes upon the ground in sullen silence now lifted them up; but scarcely had he beheld the person that was talking to the captain when he uttered a loud cry and repeated the name of _Hamet_. The Turk, with equal emotion, surveyed him for a moment, and then, catching him in his arms, embraced him with the transports of a parent who unexpectedly recovers a long-lost child. It is unnecessary to repeat all that gratitude and affection inspired Hamet to say, but when he heard that his ancient benefactor was amongst the number of those unhappy Venetians who stood before him, he hid his face for a moment under his vest and seemed overwhelmed with sorrow and astonishment, when, recollecting himself, he raised his arms to heaven and blessed that Providence which had made him the instrument of safety to his ancient benefactor. He then instantly flew to that part of the market where Francisco stood waiting for his fate with a manly, mute despair. He called him his friend, his benefactor, and every endearing name which friendship and gratitude could inspire; and, ordering his chains to be instantly taken off, he conducted him and his son to a magnificent house, which belonged to him in the city. As soon as they were alone, and had time for an explanation of their mutual fortunes, Hamet told the Venetians that, when he was set at liberty by their generosity, and restored to his country, he had accepted a command in the Turkish armies; and that, having had the good fortune to distinguish himself on several occasions, he had gradually been promoted, through various offices, to the dignity of Bashaw of Tunis. 'Since I have enjoyed this post,' added he, 'there is nothing which I find in it so agreeable as the power it gives me of alleviating the misfortunes of those unhappy Christians who are taken prisoners by our corsairs. Whenever a ship arrives, which brings with it any of these sufferers, I constantly visit the markets and redeem a certain number of the captives, whom I restore to liberty. And gracious Allah has shown that he approves of these faint endeavours to discharge the sacred duties of gratitude for my own redemption, by putting it in my power to serve the best and dearest of men.'

"Ten days were Francisco and his son entertained in the house of Hamet, during which time he put in practice everything within his power to please and interest them, but when he found they were desirous of returning home, he told them he would no longer detain them from their country, but that they should embark the next day in a ship that was setting sail for Venice. Accordingly, on the morrow he dismissed them, with many embraces and much reluctance, and ordered a chosen party of his own guards to conduct them on board their vessel. When they arrived there, their joy and admiration were considerably increased on finding that, by the generosity of Hamet, not only the ship which had been taken, but the whole crew were redeemed and restored to freedom. Francisco and his son embarked, and, after a favourable voyage, arrived without accident in their own country, where they lived many years respected and esteemed, continually mindful of the vicissitudes of human affairs, and attentive to discharge their duties to their fellow-creatures."

When this story was concluded, Mr Barlow and his pupils went out to walk upon the high road, but they had not gone far before they discovered three men, who seemed each to lead a large and shaggy beast by a string, followed by a crowd of boys and women, whom the novelty of the sight had drawn together. When they approached more near, Mr Barlow discovered that the beasts were three tame bears, led by as many Savoyards, who get their living by exhibiting them. Upon the head of each of these formidable animals was seated a monkey, who grinned and chattered, and by his strange grimaces excited the mirth of the whole assembly. Tommy, who had never before seen one of these creatures, was very much surprised and entertained, but still more so when he saw the animal rise upon his hind legs at the word of command, and dance about in a strange, uncouth manner, to the sound of music.

After having satisfied themselves with this spectacle they proceeded on their way, and Tommy asked Mr Barlow whether a bear was an animal easily tamed, and that did mischief in those places where he was wild.

"The bear," replied Mr Barlow, "is not an animal quite so formidable or destructive as a lion or a tiger; he is, however, sufficiently dangerous, and will frequently devour women and children, and even men, when he has an opportunity. These creatures are generally found in cold countries, and it is observed that the colder the climate is, the greater size and fierceness do they attain to. There is a remarkable account of one of these animals suddenly attacking a soldier when on duty, but it was fortunate for the poor fellow that the first blow he struck the bear felled him to the ground, and the soldier immediately plunged his sword into his heart, which of course killed it. In those northern countries, which are perpetually covered with snow and ice, a species of bear is found, which is white in colour, and of amazing strength as well as fierceness. These animals are often seen clambering over the huge pieces of ice that almost cover those seas, and preying upon fish and other sea animals. I remember reading an account of one that came unexpectedly upon some sailors who were boiling their dinners on the shore. This creature had two young ones with her, and the sailors, as you may easily imagine, did not like such dangerous guests, but made their escape immediately to the ship. The old bear then seized upon the flesh which the sailors had left, and set it before her cubs, reserving a very small portion for herself; showing by this, that she took a much greater interest in their welfare than her own. But the sailors, enraged at the loss of their dinners, levelled their muskets at the cubs, and, from the ship, shot them both dead. They also wounded the dam, who was fetching away another piece of flesh, but not mortally, so that she was still able to move. But it would have affected any one with pity, but a brutal mind (says the relation), to see the behaviour of this poor beast, all wounded as she was and bleeding, to her young ones. Though she was sorely hurt, and could but crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had in her mouth, as she had done the preceding ones, and laid it down before them, and, when she observed that they did not eat, she laid her paws first upon one, and then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up, all this while making the most pitiful moans. When she found that they did not stir, she went away to a little distance and then looked, back and moaned, as if to entice them to her; but finding them still immovable, she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She then went off a second time as before, and, after crawling a few yards, turned back and moaned, as if to entreat them not to desert their mother. But her cubs not yet rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and, with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round first one and then the other, pawing them and moaning all the time. Finding them at last cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship and began to growl in an indignant manner, as if she were denouncing vengeance against the murderers of her young; but the sailors levelled their muskets again, and wounded her in so many places that she dropped down between her young ones; yet, even while she was expiring, she seemed only sensible to their fate, and died licking their wounds."

"And is it possible," said Harry, "that men can be so cruel towards poor unfortunate animals?" "It is too true," answered Mr Barlow, "that men are frequently guilty of every wanton and unnecessary acts of barbarity, but in this case it is probable that the fear of these animals contributed to render the sailors more unpitying than they would otherwise have been; they had often seen themselves in danger of being devoured, and that inspired them with a great degree of hatred against them, which they took the opportunity of gratifying." "But would it not be enough," answered Harry, "if they carried arms to defend themselves when they were attacked, without unnecessarily destroying other creatures, who did not meddle with them?" "To be sure it would," replied Mr Barlow, "and a generous mind would at any time rather spare an enemy than destroy him."

While they were conversing in this manner, they beheld a crowd of women and children running away in the greatest trepidation, and, looking behind them, saw that one of the bears had broken his chain, and was running after them, growling all the time in a very disagreeable manner. Mr Barlow, who had a good stick in his hand, and was a man of an intrepid character, perceiving this, bade his pupils remain quiet, and instantly ran up to the bear, who stopped in the middle of his career, and seemed inclined to attack Mr Barlow for his interference; but this gentleman struck him two or three blows, rating him at the same time in a loud and severe tone of voice, and seizing the end of the chain with equal boldness and dexterity, the animal quietly submitted, and suffered himself to be taken prisoner. Presently the keeper of the bear came up, into whose hands Mr Barlow consigned him, charging him for the future to be more careful in guarding so dangerous a creature.

While this was doing, the boys had remained quiet spectators at a distance, but by accident the monkey, who used to be perched upon the head of the bear, and was shaken off when the beast broke loose, came running that way, playing a thousand antic grimaces as he passed. Tommy, who was determined not to be outdone by Mr Barlow, ran very resolutely up, and seized a string which was tied round the loins of the animal; but he, not choosing to be taken prisoner, instantly snapped at Tommy's arm, and almost made his teeth meet in the fleshy part of it. Yet Tommy, who was now greatly improved in courage and the use of his limbs, instead of letting his enemy escape, began thrashing him very severely with the stick which he had in his hand, till the monkey, seeing he had so resolute an antagonist to deal with, desisted from opposition, and suffered himself to be led captive like his friend the bear.

As they were returning home, Tommy asked Mr Barlow whether he did not think it very dangerous to meddle with such an animal when he was loose. Mr Barlow told him it was not without danger, but that it was much less so than most people would imagine. "Most animals," said he, "are easily awed by the appearance of intrepidity, while they are invited to pursue by marks of fear and apprehension." "That, I believe, is very true," answered Harry; "for I have very often observed the behaviour of dogs to each other. When two strange dogs meet they generally approach with caution, as if they were mutually afraid; but as sure as either of them runs away, the other will pursue him with the greatest insolence and fury." "This is not confined to dogs," replied Mr Barlow; "almost all wild beasts are subject to receive the sudden impression of terror; and therefore men, who have been obliged to travel without arms, through forests that abound with dangerous animals, have frequently escaped unhurt, by shouting aloud whenever they met with any of them on their way; but what I chiefly depended on was, the education which the bear had received since he left his own country." (Tommy laughed heartily at this idea, and Mr Barlow went on.) "Whenever an animal is taught anything that is not natural to him, this is properly receiving an education. Did you ever observe colts running about wild upon the common?" _Tommy._--yes, sir, very often. _Mr Barlow._--And do you think it would be an easy matter for any one to mount upon their backs or ride them? _T._--By no means; I think that they would kick and prance to that degree that they would throw any person down. _Mr B._--And yet your little horse very frequently takes you upon his back, and carries you very safely between this and your father's house. _T._--That is because he is used to it. _Mr B._--But he was not always used to it; he was once a colt, and then he ran about as wild and unrestrained as any of those upon the common. _T._--Yes, sir. _Mr B._--How came he then to be so altered as to submit to bear you upon his back? _T._--I do not know, unless it was by feeding him. _Mr B._--That is one method; but that is not all; they first accustom the colt, who naturally follows his mother, to come into the stable with her; then they stroke him and feed him till he gradually becomes gentle, and will suffer himself to be handled; then they take an opportunity of putting a halter upon his head, and accustom him to stand quietly in the stable, and to be tied to the manger. Thus they gradually proceed from one thing to another, till they teach him to bear the bridle and the saddle, and to be commanded by his rider. This may very properly be called the _education_ of an animal, since by these means he is obliged to acquire habits which he would never have learned had he been left to himself. Now, I knew that the poor bear had been frequently beaten and very ill-used, in order to make him submit to be led about with a string, and exhibited as a sight. I knew that he had been accustomed to submit to man, and to tremble at the sound of the human voice, and I depended upon the force of these impressions for making him submit without resistance to the authority I assumed over him. You saw I was not deceived in my opinion, and by these means I probably prevented the mischief that he might otherwise have done to some of those women or children.