Chapter IV (2)

As Mr Barlow was talking in this manner, he perceived that Tommy's arm was bloody; and inquiring into the reason, he heard the history of his adventure with the monkey. Mr Barlow then looked at the wound, which he found of no great consequence, and told Tommy that he was sorry for his accident, and imagined that he was now too courageous to be daunted by a trifling hurt. Tommy assured him he was, and proceeded to ask some questions concerning the nature of the monkey, which Mr Barlow answered in the following manner:--"The monkey is a very extraordinary animal, which closely resembles a man in his shape and appearance, as perhaps you may have observed. He is always found to inhabit hot countries, the forests of which, in many parts of the world, are filled with innumerable bands of these animals. He is extremely active, and his fore-legs exactly resemble the arms of a man; so that he not only uses them to walk upon, but frequently to climb trees, to hang by the branches, and to take hold of his food with. He supports himself upon almost every species of wild fruit which is found in those countries, so that it is necessary he should be continually scrambling up and down the highest trees, in order to procure himself a subsistence. Nor is he contented always with the diet which he finds in the forest where he makes his residence. Large bands of these creatures will frequently sally out to plunder the gardens in the neighbourhood, and many wonderful stories are told of their ingenuity and contrivance." "What are these?" said Tommy. "It is said," answered Mr Barlow, "that they proceed with all the caution and regularity which could be found in men themselves. Some of these animals are placed as spies to give notice to the rest, in case any human being should approach the garden; and, should that happen, one of the sentinels informs them by a peculiar chattering, and they all escape in an instant." "I can easily believe that," answered Harry, "for I have observed, that when a flock of rooks alight upon a farmer's field of corn, two or three of them always take their station upon the highest tree they can find; and if any one approaches they instantly give notice by their cawing, and all the rest take wing directly and fly away." "But," answered Mr Barlow, "the monkeys are said to be yet more ingenious in their thefts; for they station some of their body at a small distance from each other, in a line that reaches quite from the forest they inhabit to the particular garden they wish to plunder. When this is done, several of them mount the fairest fruit-trees, and, picking the fruit, throw it down to their companions who stand below; these again cast it to others at a little distance, and thus it flies from hand to hand till it is safely deposited in the woods or mountains whence they came. When they are taken very young they are easily tamed, but always retain a great disposition to mischief, as well as to imitate everything they see done by men. Many ridiculous stories are told of them in this respect. I have heard of a monkey that resided in a gentleman's family, and that frequently observed his master undergo the operation of shaving. The imitative animal one day took it into his head to turn barber, and, seizing in one hand a cat that lived in the same house, and a bottle of ink in the other, he carried her up to the top of a very fine marble staircase. The servants were all attracted by the screams of the cat, who did not relish the operation which was going forward; and, running out, were equally surprised and diverted to see the monkey gravely seated upon the landing-place of the stairs, and holding the cat fast in one of his paws, while with the other he continually applied ink to puss's face, rubbing it all over, just as he had observed the barber do to his master. Whenever the cat struggled to escape, the monkey gave her a pat with his paw, chattering all the time, and making the most ridiculous grimaces; and when she was quiet, he applied himself to his bottle, and continued the operation. But I have heard a more tragic story of the imitative genius of these animals. One of them lived in a fortified town, and used frequently to run up and down upon the ramparts, where he had observed the gunner discharge the great guns that defended the town. One day he got possession of the lighted match with which the man used to perform his business, and, applying it to the touch-hole of a gun, he ran to the mouth of it to see the explosion; but the cannon, which happened to be loaded, instantly went off, and blew the poor monkey into a thousand pieces."

When they came back to Mr Barlow's they found Master Merton's servant and horses waiting to bring him home. When he arrived there he was received with the greatest joy and tenderness by his parents; but though he gave them an account of everything else that had happened, he did not say a word about the money he had given to the farmer. But the next day, being Sunday, Mr and Mrs Merton and Tommy went together to the parish church, which they had scarcely entered when a general whisper ran through the whole congregation, and all eyes were in an instant turned upon the little boy. Mr and Mrs Merton were very much astonished at this, but they forbore to inquire until the end of the service; then as they were going out of the church together, Mr Merton asked his son what could be the reason of the general attention which he excited at his entrance into church? Tommy had no time to answer, for at that instant a very decent-looking woman ran up and threw herself at his feet, calling him her guardian angel and preserver, and praying that heaven would shower down upon his head all the blessings which he deserved. It was some time before Mr and Mrs Merton could understand the nature of this extraordinary scene; but, when they at length understood the secret of their son's generosity, they seemed to be scarcely less affected than the woman herself, and, shedding tears of transport and affection, they embraced their son, without attending to the crowd that surrounded them; but immediately recollecting themselves, they took their leave of the poor woman and hurried to their coach with such sensations as it is more easy to conceive than to describe.

The summer had now completely passed away, and the winter had set in with unusual severity; the water was all frozen into a solid mass of ice; the earth was bare of food, and the little birds, that used to chirp with gladness, seemed to lament in silence the inclemency of the weather. As Tommy was one day reading the Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, particularly the famous anecdote of the fortress of snow, in which Napoleon is described as undertaking the siege, and giving directions to his school-fellows how to make the attack, he was surprised to find a pretty bird flying about the chamber in which he was reading. He immediately went down stairs and informed Mr Barlow of the circumstance, who, after he had seen the bird, told him that it was called a robin redbreast, and that it was naturally more tame and disposed to cultivate the society of men than any other species; "but at present," added he, "the little fellow is in want of food, because the earth is too hard to furnish him any assistance, and hunger inspires him with this unusual boldness." "Why then, sir," said Tommy, "if you will give me leave, I will fetch a piece of bread and feed him." "Do so," answered Mr Barlow; "but first set the window open, that he may see you do not intend to take him prisoner." Tommy accordingly opened his window, and scattering a few crumbs of bread about the room, had the satisfaction of seeing his guest hop down and make a very hearty meal; he then flew out of the room, and settled upon a neighbouring tree, singing all the time, as if to return thanks for the hospitality he had met with.

Tommy was greatly delighted with his new acquaintance, and from this time never failed to set his window open every morning and scatter some crumbs about the room, which the bird perceiving, hopped fearlessly in, and regaled himself under the protection of his benefactor. By degrees the intimacy increased so much that little robin would alight on Tommy's shoulder and whistle his notes in that situation, or eat out of his hand--all which gave Tommy so much satisfaction that he would frequently call Mr Barlow and Harry to be witness of his favourite's caresses; nor did he ever eat his own meals without reserving a part for his little friend.

It however happened that one day Tommy went upstairs after dinner, intending to feed his bird as usual, but as soon as he opened the door of his chamber he discovered a sight that pierced him to the very heart. His little friend and innocent companion lay dead upon the floor, and torn in pieces; and a large cat, taking that opportunity to escape, soon directed his suspicions towards the murderer. Tommy instantly ran down with tears in his eyes to relate the unfortunate death of his favourite to Mr Barlow, and to demand vengeance against the wicked cat that had occasioned it. Mr Barlow heard him with great compassion, but asked what punishment he wished to inflict upon the cat?

_Tommy._--Oh sir! nothing can be too bad for that cruel animal. I would have her killed as she killed the poor bird.

_Mr Barlow._--But do you imagine that she did it out of any particular malice to your bird, or merely because she was hungry, and accustomed to catch her prey in that manner?

Tommy considered some time, but at last he owned that he did not suspect the cat of having any particular spite against his bird, and therefore he supposed she had been impelled by hunger.

_Mr Barlow._--Have you never observed that it was the property of that species to prey upon mice and other little animals?

_Tommy._--Yes, sir, very often.

_Mr Barlow._--And have you ever corrected her for so doing, or attempted to teach her other habits?

_Tommy._--I cannot say I have. Indeed I have seen little Harry, when she had caught a mouse and was tormenting it, take it from her and give it liberty; but I have never meddled with her myself.

_Mr Barlow._--Are you not then more to be blamed than the cat herself? You have observed that it was common to the whole species to destroy mice and little birds, whenever they could surprise them; yet you have taken no pains to secure your favourite from the danger; on the contrary, by rendering him tame, and accustoming him to be fed, you have exposed him to a violent death, which he would probably have avoided had he remained wild. Would it not then be just, and more reasonable, to endeavour to teach the cat that she must no longer prey upon little birds, than to put her to death for what you have never taught her was an offence?

_Tommy._--But is that possible?

_Mr Barlow._--Very possible, I should imagine; but we may at least try the experiment.

_Tommy._--But why should such a mischievous creature live at all?

_Mr Barlow._--Because, if you destroy every creature that preys upon others, you would perhaps leave few alive.

_Tommy._--Surely, sir, the poor bird which that naughty cat has killed, was never guilty of such a cruelty.

_Mr Barlow._--I will not answer for that. Let us observe what they live upon in the fields; we shall then be able to give a better account.

Mr Barlow then went to the window and desired Tommy to come to him, and observe a robin which was then hopping upon the grass with something in its mouth, and asked him what he thought it was.

_Tommy._--I protest, sir, it is a large worm. And now he has swallowed it! I should never have thought that such a pretty bird could have been so cruel.

_Mr Barlow._--Do you imagine that the bird is conscious of all that is suffered by the insect?

_Tommy._--No, sir.

_Mr Barlow._--In him, then, it is not the same cruelty which it would be in you, who are endowed with reason and reflection. Nature has given him a propensity for animal food, which he obeys in the same manner as the sheep and ox when they feed upon grass, or as the ass when he browses upon the furze or thistles.

_Tommy._--Why, then, perhaps the cat did not know the cruelty she was guilty of in tearing that poor bird to pieces?

_Mr Barlow._--No more than the bird we have just seen is conscious of his cruelty to the insect. The natural food of cats consists in rats, mice, birds, and such small animals as they can seize by violence or catch by craft. It was impossible she should know the value you set upon your bird, and therefore she had no more intention of offending you than had she caught a mouse.

_Tommy._--But if that is the case, should I have another tame bird, she would kill it as she has done this poor fellow.

_Mr Barlow._--That, perhaps, may be prevented. I have heard people that deal in birds affirm there is a way of preventing cats from meddling with them.

_Tommy._--Oh dear, sir, I should like to try it. Will you not show me how to prevent the cat from killing any more birds?

_Mr Barlow._--Most willingly; it is certainly better to correct the faults of an animal than to destroy it. Besides, I have a particular affection for this cat, because I found her when she was a kitten, and have bred her up so tame and gentle that she will follow me about like a dog. She comes every morning to my chamber-door and mews till she is let in; and she sits upon the table at breakfast and dinner as grave and polite as a visitor, without offering to touch the meat. Indeed, before she was guilty of this offence, I have often seen you stroke and caress her with great affection; and puss, who is by no means of an ungrateful temper, would always pur and arch her tail, as if she was sensible of your attention.

In a few days after this conversation another robin, suffering like the former from the inclemency of the season, flew into the house, and commenced acquaintance with Tommy. But he, who recollected the mournful fate of his former bird, would not encourage it to any familiarity, till he had claimed the promise of Mr Barlow, in order to preserve it from danger. Mr Barlow, therefore, enticed the new guest into a small wire-cage, and, as soon as he had entered it, shut the door, in order to prevent his escaping. He then took a small gridiron, such as is used to broil meat upon, and, having almost heated it red hot, placed it erect upon the ground, before the cage in which the bird was confined. He then contrived to entice the cat into the room, and observing that she fixed her eye upon the bird, which she destined to become her prey, he withdrew the two little boys, in order to leave her unrestrained in her operations. They did not retire far, but observed her from the door fix her eyes upon the cage, and begin to approach it in silence, bending her body to the ground, and almost touching it as she crawled along. When she judged herself within a proper distance, she exerted all her agility in a violent spring, which would probably have been fatal to the bird, had not the gridiron, placed before the cage, received the impression of her attack. Nor was the disappointment the only punishment she was destined to undergo; the bars of the gridiron had been so thoroughly heated that, in rushing against them, she felt herself burned in several parts of her body, and retired from the field of battle mewing dreadfully and full of pain; and such was the impression which this adventure produced, that, from this time, she was never again known to attempt to destroy birds.

The coldness of the weather still continuing, all the wild animals began to perceive the effects, and, compelled by hunger, approached nearer to the habitations of man and the places they had been accustomed to avoid. A multitude of hares--the most timorous of all animals--were frequently seen scudding about the garden in search of the scanty vegetables which the severity of the season had spared. In a short time they had devoured all the green herbs which could be found, and, hunger still oppressing them, they began to gnaw the very bark of the trees for food. One day, as Tommy was walking in the garden, he found that even the beloved tree which he had planted with his own hands, and from which he had promised himself so plentiful a produce of fruit, had not escaped the general depredation, but had been gnawed round at the root and killed.

Tommy, who could ill brook disappointment, was so enraged to see his labours prove abortive, that he ran with tears in his eyes to Mr Barlow, to demand vengeance against the devouring hares. "Indeed," said Mr Barlow, "I am sorry for what they have done, but it is now too late to prevent it." "Yes," answered Tommy, "but you may have all those mischievous creatures shot, that they may do no further damage." "A little while ago," replied Mr Barlow, "you wanted to destroy the cat, because she was cruel and preyed upon living animals, and now you would murder all the hares, merely because they are innocent, inoffensive animals that subsist upon vegetables." Tommy looked a little foolish, but said, "he did not want to hurt them for living upon vegetables, but for destroying his tree." "But," said Mr Barlow, "how can you expect the animal to distinguish your trees from any other? You should therefore have fenced them round in such a manner as might have prevented the hares from reaching them; besides, in such extreme distress as animals now suffer from the want of food, I think they may be forgiven if they trespass a little more than usual."

Mr Barlow then took Tommy by the hand and led him into a field at some distance, which belonged to him, and which was sown with turnips. Scarcely had they entered the field before a flock of larks rose up in such innumerable quantities as almost darkened the air. "See," said Mr Barlow, "these little fellows are trespassing upon my turnips in such numbers, that in a short time they will destroy every bit of green about the field; yet I would not hurt them on any account. Look round the whole extent of the country, you will see nothing but a barren waste, which presents no food either to bird or beast. These little creatures, therefore, assemble in multitudes here, where they find a scanty subsistence, and though they do me some mischief, they are welcome to what they can find. In the spring they will enliven our walks by their agreeable songs."

_Tommy._--How dreary and uncomfortable is this season of winter; I wish it were always summer.

_Mr Barlow._--In some countries it is so; but there the inhabitants complain more of the intolerable heat than you do of the cold. They would with pleasure be relieved by the agreeable variety of cooler weather, when they are panting under the violence of a scorching sun.

_Tommy._--Then I should like to live in a country that was never either disagreeably hot or cold.

_Mr Barlow._--Such a country is scarcely to be found; or if it is, contains so small a portion of the earth as to leave room for very few inhabitants.

_Tommy._--Then I should think it would be so crowded that one would hardly be able to stir, for everybody would naturally wish to live there.

_Mr Barlow._--There you are mistaken, for the inhabitants of the finest climates are often less attached to their own country than those of the worst. Custom reconciles people to every kind of life, and makes them equally satisfied with the place in which they are born. There is a country called Lapland, which extends a great deal further north than any part of England, which is covered with perpetual snows during all the year, yet the inhabitants would not exchange it for any other portion of the globe.

_Tommy._--How do they live in so disagreeable a country?

_Mr Barlow._--If you ask Harry, he will tell you. Being a farmer, it is his business to study the different methods by which men find subsistence in all the different parts of the earth.

_Tommy._--I should like very much to hear, if Harry will be so good as to tell me.

_Harry._--You must know then, Master Tommy, that in the greatest part of this country which is called Lapland, the inhabitants neither sow nor reap; they are totally unacquainted with the use of corn, and know not how to make bread; they have no trees which bear fruit, and scarcely any of the herbs which grow in our gardens in England; nor do they possess either sheep, goats, hogs, cows, or beasts.

_Tommy._--That must be a disagreeable country indeed! What then have they to live upon?

_Harry._--They have a species of deer, which is bigger than the largest stags which you may have seen in the gentlemen's parks in England, and very strong. These animals are called _reindeer_, and are of so gentle a nature that they are easily tamed, and taught to live together in herds, and to obey their masters. In the short summer which they enjoy, the Laplanders lead them out to pasture in the valleys, where the grass grows very high and luxuriant. In the winter, when the ground is all covered over with snow, the deer have learned to scratch away the snow, and find a sort of moss which grows underneath it, and upon this they subsist. These creatures afford not only food, but raiment, and even houses to their masters. In the summer, the Laplander milks his herds and lives upon the produce; sometimes he lays by the milk in wooden vessels, to serve him for food in winter. This is soon frozen so hard that, when they would use it, they are obliged to cut it in pieces with a hatchet. Sometimes the winters are so severe that the poor deer can scarcely find even moss, and then the master is obliged to kill part of them and live upon the flesh. Of the skins he makes warm garments for himself and his family, and strews them thick upon the ground, to sleep upon. Their houses are only poles stuck slanting into the ground, and almost joined at top, except a little hole which they leave to let out the smoke. These poles are either covered with the skins of animals, or coarse cloth, or sometimes with turf and the bark of trees. There is a little hole left in one side, through which the family creep into their tent, and they make a comfortable fire to warm them, in the middle. People that are so easily contented are totally ignorant of most of the things that are thought so necessary here. The Laplanders have neither gold, nor silver, nor carpets, nor carved work in their houses; every man makes for himself all that the real wants of life require, and with his own hands performs everything which is necessary to be done. Their food consists either in frozen milk, or the flesh of the reindeer, or that of the bear, which they frequently hunt and kill. Instead of bread they strip off the bark of firs, which are almost the only trees that grow upon those dismal mountains, and, boiling the inward and more tender skin, they eat it with their flesh. The greatest happiness of these poor people is to live free and unrestrained; therefore they do not long remain fixed to any spot, but, taking down their houses, they pack them up along with the little furniture they possess, and load them upon sledges, to carry and set them up in some other place.

_Tommy._--Have you not said that they have neither horses nor oxen? Do they then draw these sledges themselves?

_Harry._--I thought I should surprise you, Master Tommy. The reindeer which I have described are so tractable, that they are harnessed like horses, and draw the sledges with their masters upon them nearly thirty miles a-day. They set out with surprising swiftness, and run along the snow, which is frozen so hard in winter that it supports them like a solid road. In this manner do the Laplanders perform their journeys, and change their places of abode as often as is agreeable. In the spring they lead their herds of deer to pasture upon the mountains; in the winter they come down into the plains, where they are better protected against the fury of the winds; for the whole country is waste and desolate, destitute of all the objects which you see here. There are no towns, nor villages; no fields enclosed or cultivated; no beaten roads; no inns for travellers to sleep at; no shops to purchase the necessaries or conveniences of life at; the face of the whole country is barren and dismal; wherever you turn your eyes, nothing is to be seen but lofty mountains, white with snow, and covered with ice and fogs; scarcely any trees are to be seen, except a few stunted firs and birches. These mountains afford a retreat to thousands of bears and wolves, which are continually pouring down and prowling about to prey upon the herds of deer, so that the Laplanders are continually obliged to fight them in their own defence. To do this, they fix large pieces of flat board, about four or five feet long, to the bottom of their feet, and, thus secured, they run along, without sinking into the snow, so nimbly, that they can overtake the wild animals in the chase. The bears they kill with bows and arrows, which they make themselves. Sometimes they find out the dens where they have laid themselves up in winter, and then they attack them with spears, and generally overcome them. When a Laplander has killed a bear, he carries it home in triumph, boils the flesh in an iron pot (which is all the cooking they are acquainted with), and invites all his neighbours to the feast. This they account the greatest delicacy in the world, and particularly the fat, which they melt over the fire and drink; then, sitting round the flame, they entertain each other with stories of their own exploits in hunting or fishing, till the feast is over. Though they live so barbarous a life, they are a good-natured, sincere, and hospitable people. If a stranger comes among them, they lodge and entertain him in the best manner they are able, and generally refuse all payment for their services, unless it be a little bit of tobacco, which they are immoderately fond of smoking.

_Tommy._--Poor people! how I pity them, to live such an unhappy life! I should think the fatigues and hardships they undergo must kill them in a very short space of time.

_Mr Barlow._--Have you then observed that those who eat and drink the most, and undergo the least fatigue, are the most free from disease?

_Tommy._--Not always; for I remember that there are two or three gentlemen who come to dine at my father's, who eat an amazing quantity of meat, besides drinking a great deal of wine, and these poor gentlemen have lost the use of almost all their limbs. Their legs are so swelled, that they are almost as big as their bodies; their feet are so tender that they cannot set them to the ground; and their knees so stiff, that they cannot bend them. When they arrive, they are obliged to be helped out of their coaches by two or three people, and they come hobbling in upon crutches. But I never heard them talk about anything but eating and drinking in all my life. _Mr Barlow._--And did you ever observe that any of the poor had lost the use of their limbs by the same disease?

_Tommy._--I cannot say I have.

_Mr Barlow._--Then, perhaps, the being confined to a scanty diet, to hardship, and to exercise, may not be so desperate as you imagine. This way of life is even much less so than the intemperance in which too many of the rich continually indulge themselves. I remember lately reading a story on this subject, which, if you please, you shall hear. Mr Barlow then read the following

"HISTORY OF A SURPRISING CURE OF THE GOUT."

"In one of the provinces of Italy there lived a wealthy gentleman, who, having no taste either for improving his mind or exercising his body, acquired a habit of eating almost all day long. The whole extent of his thoughts was, what he should eat for dinner, and how he should procure the greatest delicacies. Italy produces excellent wine, but these were not enough for our epicure; he settled agents in different parts of France and Spain, to buy up all the most generous and costly wines of those countries. He had correspondence with all the maritime cities, that he might be constantly supplied with every species of fish; every poulterer and fishmonger in the town was under articles to let him have his choice of rarities. He also employed a man on purpose to give directions for his pastry and desserts. As soon as he had breakfasted in the morning, it was his constant practice to retire to his library (for he, too, had a library, although he never opened a book). When he was there, he gravely seated himself in an easy chair, and, tucking a napkin under his chin, ordered his head cook to be sent in to him. The head cook instantly appeared attended by a couple of footmen, who carried each a silver salver of prodigious size, on which were cups containing sauces of every different flavour which could be devised. The gentleman, with the greatest solemnity, used to dip a bit of bread in each, and taste it, giving his orders upon the subject with as much earnestness and precision as if he had been signing papers for the government of a kingdom. When this important affair was thus concluded, he would throw himself upon a couch, to repair the fatigues of such an exertion, and refresh himself against dinner. When that delightful hour arrived, it is impossible to describe either the variety of fish, flesh, and fowl which was set before him, or the surprising greediness with which he ate of all; stimulating his appetite with the highest sauces and richest wines, till at length he was obliged to desist, not from being satisfied, but from mere inability to contain more.

"This kind of life he had long pursued, but at last became so corpulent that he could hardly move; his belly appeared prominent like a mountain, his face was bloated, and his legs, though swelled to the size of columns, seemed unable to support the prodigious weight of his body. Added to this, he was troubled with continual indigestions and racking pains in several of his limbs, which at length terminated in a violent fit of the gout. The pains, indeed, at length abated, and this unfortunate epicure returned to all his former habits of intemperance. The interval of ease, however, was short, and the attacks of his disease becoming more and more frequent, he was at length deprived of the use of almost all his limbs.

"In this unhappy state he determined to consult a physician that lived in the same town, and had the reputation of performing many surprising cures. 'Doctor,' said the gentleman to the physician, when he arrived, 'you see the miserable state to which I am reduced.' 'I do, indeed,' answered the physician, 'and I suppose you have contributed to it by your intemperance.' 'As to intemperance,' replied the gentleman, 'I believe few have less to answer for than myself; I indeed love a moderate dinner and supper, but I never was intoxicated with liquor in my life.' 'Probably, then, you sleep too much?' said the physician. 'As to sleep,' said the gentleman, 'I am in bed nearly twelve hours every night, because I find the sharpness of the morning air extremely injurious to my constitution; but I am so troubled with a plaguy flatulency and heartburn, that I am scarcely able to close my eyes all night; or if I do, I find myself almost strangled with wind, and awake in agonies.' 'That is a very alarming symptom, indeed,' replied the doctor; 'I wonder so many restless nights do not entirely wear you out.' 'They would, indeed,' answered the gentleman, 'if I did not make shift to procure a little sleep two or three times a-day, which enables me to hold out a little longer.' 'As to exercise,' continued the doctor, 'I fear you are not able to use a great deal.' 'Alas!' answered the sick man, 'while I was able, I never failed to go out in my carriage once or twice a-week, but in my present situation I can no longer bear the gentlest motion; besides disordering my whole frame, it gives me such intolerable twitches in my limbs, that you would imagine I was absolutely falling to pieces.' 'Your case,' answered the physician, 'is indeed bad, but not quite desperate, and if you could abridge the quantity of your food and sleep, you would in a short time find yourself much better.' 'Alas!' answered the sick man, 'I find you little know the delicacy of my constitution, or you would not put me upon a method which will infallibly destroy me. When I rise in the morning, I feel as if all the powers of life were extinguished within me; my stomach is oppressed with nausea, my head with aches and swimming, and above all, I feel such an intolerable sinking in my spirits, that, without the assistance of two or three cordials, and some restorative soup, I am confident I never could get through the morning. Now, doctor, I have such confidence in your skill, that there is no pill or potion you can order me which I will not take with pleasure, but as to a change in my diet, that is impossible.' 'That is,' answered the physician, 'you wish for health without being at the trouble of acquiring it, and imagine that all the consequences of an ill-spent life are to be washed away by a julep, or a decoction of senna. But as I cannot cure you upon those terms, I will not deceive you for an instant. Your case is out of the power of medicine, and you can only be relieved by your own exertions.' 'How hard is this,' answered the gentleman, 'to be thus abandoned to despair even in the prime of life! Cruel and unfeeling doctor, will you not attempt anything to procure me ease?' 'Sir,' answered the physician, 'I have already told you everything I know upon the subject. I must, however, acquaint you, that I have a brother physician who lives at Padua, a man of the greatest learning and integrity, who is particularly famous for curing the gout. If you think it worth your while to consult him, I will give you a letter of recommendation, for he never stirs from home, even to attend a prince.'

"Here the conversation ended; for the gentleman, who did not like the trouble of the journey, took his leave of the physician, and returned home very much dispirited. In a little while he either was, or fancied himself, worse; and as the idea of the Paduan physician had never left his head, he at last resolutely determined to set out upon the journey. For this purpose he had a litter so contrived that he could lie recumbent, or recline at his ease, and eat his meals. The distance was not above one day's tolerable journey, but the gentleman wisely resolved to make four of it, for fear of over-fatiguing himself. He had, besides, a loaded waggon attending, filled with everything that constitutes good eating; and two of his cooks went with him, that nothing might be wanting to his accommodation on the road.

"After a wearisome journey he at length arrived within sight of Padua, and eagerly inquiring after the house of Doctor Ramozini, was soon directed to the spot; then, having been helped out of his carriage by half-a-dozen of his servants, he was shown into a neat but plain parlour, from which he had the prospect of twenty or thirty people at dinner in a spacious hall. In the middle of them was the learned doctor himself, who with much complaisance invited the company to eat heartily. 'My good friend,' said the doctor to a pale-looking man on his right hand, 'you must eat three slices more of this roast-beef, or you will never lose your ague.' 'My friend,' said he to another, 'drink off this glass of porter; it is just arrived from England, and is a specific for nervous fevers.' 'Do not stuff your child so with macaroni,' added he, turning to a woman, 'if you wish to cure him of the scrofula.' 'Good man,' said he to a fourth, 'how goes on the ulcer in your leg?' 'Much better, indeed,' replied the man, 'since I have lived at your honour's table.' 'Well,' replied the physician, 'in a fortnight you will be perfectly cured, if you do but drink wine enough.'

"'Thank heaven!' said the gentleman, who had heard all this with infinite pleasure, 'I have at last met with a reasonable physician; he will not confine me to bread and water, nor starve me under pretence of curing me, like that confounded quack from whose clutches I have so luckily escaped.'

"At length the doctor dismissed his company, who retired loading him with thanks and blessings. He then approached the gentleman, and welcomed him with the greatest politeness, who presented him with his letters of recommendation, which, after the physician had perused, he thus accosted him:--'Sir, the letter of my learned friend has fully instructed me in the particulars of your case; it is indeed a difficult one, but I think you have no reason to despair of a perfect recovery. If,' added he, 'you choose to put yourself under my care, I will employ all the secrets of my art for your assistance. But one condition is absolutely indispensable; you must send away all your servants, and solemnly engage to follow my prescriptions for at least a month; without this compliance I would not undertake the cure even of a monarch.' 'Doctor,' answered the gentleman, 'what I have seen of your profession does not, I confess, much prejudice me in their favour; and I should hesitate to agree to such a proposal from any other individual.' 'Do as you like, sir,' answered the physician; 'the employing me or not is entirely voluntary on your part; but as I am above the common mercenary views of gain, I never stake the reputation of so noble an art without a rational prospect of success; and what success can I hope for in so obstinate a disorder, unless the patient will consent to a fair experiment of what I can effect?' 'Indeed,' replied the gentleman, 'what you say is so candid, and your whole behaviour so much interests me in your favour, that I will immediately give you proofs of the most unbounded confidence.'

"He then sent for his servants and ordered them to return home, and not to come near him till a whole month was elapsed. When they were gone, the physician asked him how he supported the journey? 'Why, really,' answered he, 'much better than I could have expected. But I feel myself unusually hungry; and therefore, with your permission, shall beg to have the hour of supper a little hastened.' 'Most willingly,' answered the doctor; 'at eight o'clock everything shall be ready for your entertainment. In the meantime you will permit me to visit my patients.'

"While the physician was absent, the gentleman was pleasing his imagination with the thoughts of the excellent supper he should make. 'Doubtless,' said he to himself, 'if Signor Ramozini treats the poor in such an hospitable manner, he will spare nothing for the entertainment of a man of my importance. I have heard there are delicious trouts and ortolans in this part of Italy; I make no doubt but the doctor keeps an excellent cook, and I shall have no reason to repent the dismission of my servants.'

"With these ideas he kept himself some time amused; at length his appetite growing keener and keener every instant, from fasting longer than ordinary, he lost all patience, and, calling one of the servants of the house, inquired for some little nice thing to stay his stomach till the hour of supper. 'Sir,' said the servant, 'I would gladly oblige you; but it is as much as my place is worth; my master is the best and most generous of men, but so great is his attention to his house patients, that he will not suffer one of them to eat, unless in his presence. However, sir, have patience; in two hours more the supper will be ready, and then you may indemnify yourself for all.'

"Thus was the gentleman compelled to pass two hours more without food--a degree of abstinence he had not practised for almost twenty years. He complained bitterly of the slowness of time, and was continually inquiring what was the hour.

"At length the doctor returned punctual to his time, and ordered the supper to be brought in. Accordingly six dishes were set upon the table with great solemnity, all under cover; and the gentleman flattered himself he should now be rewarded for his long abstinence. As they were sitting down to table, the learned Ramozini thus accosted his guest:--'Before you give a loose to your appetite, sir, I must acquaint you that, as the most effectual method of subduing this obstinate disease, all your food and drink will be mixed up with such medicinal substances as your case requires. They will not be indeed discoverable by any of your senses; but as their effects are equally strong and certain, I must recommend to you to eat with moderation.'

"Having said this, he ordered the dishes to be uncovered, which, to the extreme astonishment of the gentleman, contained nothing but olives, dried figs, dates, some roasted apples, a few boiled eggs, and a piece of hard cheese!

"'Heaven and earth!' cried the gentleman, losing all patience at this mortifying spectacle, 'is this the entertainment you have prepared for me, with so many speeches and prefaces? Do you imagine that a person of my fortune can sup on such contemptible fare as would hardly satisfy the wretched peasants whom I saw at dinner in your hall?' 'Have patience, my dear sir,' replied the physician; 'it is the extreme anxiety I have for your welfare that compels me to treat you with this apparent incivility. Your blood is all in a ferment with the violent exercise you have undergone; and were I rashly to indulge your craving appetite, a fever or a pleurisy might be the consequence. But to-morrow I hope you will be cooler, and then you may live in a style more adapted to your quality.'

"The gentleman began to comfort himself with this reflection, and, as there was no help, he at last determined to wait with patience another night. He accordingly tasted a few of the dates and olives, ate a piece of cheese with a slice of excellent bread, and found himself more refreshed than he could have imagined was possible from such a homely meal. When he had nearly supped, he wanted something to drink, and observing nothing but water upon the table, desired one of the servants to bring him a little wine. 'Not as you value the life of this illustrious gentleman,' cried out the physician. 'Sir,' added he, turning to his guest, 'it is with inexpressible reluctance that I contradict you, but wine would be at present a mortal poison; therefore, please to content yourself, for one night only, with a glass of this most excellent and refreshing mineral water.'

"The gentleman was again compelled to submit, and drank the water with a variety of strange grimaces. After the cloth was removed, Signor Ramozini entertained the gentleman with some agreeable and improving conversation for about an hour, and then proposed to his patient that he should retire to rest. This proposal the gentleman gladly accepted, as he found himself fatigued with his journey, and unusually disposed to sleep. The doctor then retired, and ordered one of his servants to show the gentleman to his chamber.

"He was accordingly conducted into a neighbouring room, where there was little to be seen but a homely bed, without furniture, with nothing to sleep upon but a mattress almost as hard as the floor. At this the gentleman burst into a violent passion again: 'Villain,' said he to the servant, 'it is impossible your master should dare to confine me to such a wretched dog-hole! Show me into another room immediately!' 'Sir,' answered the servant, with profound humility, 'I am heartily sorry the chamber does not please you, but I am morally certain I have not mistaken my master's order; and I have too great a respect for you to think of disobeying him in a point which concerns your precious life.' Saying this he went out of the room, and shutting the door on the outside, left the gentleman to his meditations. They were not very agreeable at first; however, as he saw no remedy, he undressed himself and entered the wretched bed, where he presently fell asleep while he was meditating revenge upon the doctor and his whole family.

"The gentleman slept so soundly that he did not awake till morning; and then the physician came into his room, and with the greatest tenderness and civility inquired after his health. He had indeed fallen asleep in very ill-humour; but his night's rest had much composed his mind, and the effect of this was increased by the extreme politeness of the doctor, so that he answered with tolerable temper, only making bitter complaints of the homeliness of his accommodation.

"'My dearest sir,' answered the physician, 'did I not make a previous agreement with you that you should submit to my management? Can you imagine that I have any other end in view than the improvement of your health? It is not possible that you should in everything perceive the reasons of my conduct, which is founded upon the most accurate theory and experience. However, in this case, I must inform you that I have found out the art of making my very beds medicinal; and this you must confess, from the excellent night you have passed. I cannot impart the same salutary virtues to down or silk, and therefore, though very much against my inclinations, I have been compelled to lodge you in this homely manner. But now, if you please, it is time to rise.'

"Ramozini then rang for the servants, and the gentleman suffered himself to be dressed. At breakfast the gentleman expected to fare a little better, but his relentless guardian would suffer him to taste nothing but a slice of bread and a porringer of water-gruel--all which he defended, very little to his guest's satisfaction, upon the most unerring principles of medical science.

"After breakfast had been some time finished, Dr Ramozini told his patient it was time to begin the great work of restoring him to the use of his limbs. He accordingly had him carried into a little room, where he desired the gentleman to attempt to stand. 'That is impossible,' answered the patient, 'for I have not been able to use a leg these three years.' 'Prop yourself, then, upon your crutches, and lean against the wall to support yourself,' answered the physician. The gentleman did so, and the doctor went abruptly out, and locked the door after him. He had not been long in this situation before he felt the floor of the chamber, which he had not before perceived to be composed of plates of iron, grow immoderately hot under his feet. He called the doctor and his servants, but to no purpose; he then began to utter loud vociferations and menaces, but all was equally ineffectual; he raved, he swore, he promised, he entreated, but nobody came to his assistance, and the heat grew more intense every instant. At length necessity compelled him to hop upon one leg in order to rest the other, and this he did with greater agility than he could conceive was possible; presently the other leg began to burn, and then he hopped again upon the other. Thus he went on, hopping about with this involuntary exercise, till he had stretched every sinew and muscle more than he had done for several years before, and thrown himself into a profuse perspiration.

"When the doctor was satisfied with the exertions of his patient, he sent into the floor an easy chair for him to rest upon, and suffered the floor to cool as gradually as it had been heated. Then it was that the sick man for the first time began to be sensible of the real use and pleasure of repose; he had earned it by fatigue, without which it can never prove either salutary or agreeable.

"At dinner the doctor appeared again to his patient, and made him a thousand apologies for the liberties he had taken with his person. These excuses he received with a kind of sullen civility. However, his anger was a little mitigated by the smell of a roasted pullet, which was brought to table and set before him. He now, from exercise and abstinence, began to find a relish in his victuals which he had never done before, and the doctor permitted him to mingle a little wine with his water. These compliances, however, were so extremely irksome to his temper, that the month seemed to pass away as slowly as a year. When it was expired, and his servants came to ask his orders, he instantly threw himself into his carriage without taking leave either of the doctor or his family. When he came to reflect upon the treatment he had received, his forced exercises, his involuntary abstinence, and all the other mortifications he had undergone, he could not conceive but it must be a plot of the physician he had left behind, and full of rage and indignation, drove directly to his house in order to reproach him with it.

"The physician happened to be at home, but scarcely knew his patient again, though after so short an absence. He had shrunk to half his former bulk, his look and colour were mended, and he had entirely thrown away his crutches. When he had given vent to all that his anger could suggest, the physician coolly answered in the following manner:--'I know not, sir, what right you have to make me these reproaches, since it was not by my persuasion that you put yourself under the care of Doctor Ramozini.' 'Yes, sir, but you gave me a high character of his skill and integrity.' 'Has he then deceived you in either, or do you find yourself worse than when you put yourself under his care?' 'I cannot say that,' answered the gentleman; 'I am, to be sure, surprisingly improved in my digestion; I sleep better than ever I did before; I eat with an appetite; and I can walk almost as well as ever I could in my life.' 'And do you seriously come,' said the physician, 'to complain of a man that has affected all these miracles for you in so short a time, and, unless you are now wanting to yourself, has given you a degree of life and health which you had not the smallest reason to expect.'