  The Constellations—Distance from the Earth—The Magnet and its Powers—The Compass—The Greenlanders and their Customs—The Telescope—The Magic Lantern—Story of the African Prince and the Telescope—Mr Barlow's Poor Parishioners—His Annual Dinner—Tommy attempts Sledge Driving—His mishap in the Pond—His Anger. And now the frost had continued for several weeks, and Tommy had taken advantage of the evenings, which generally proved clear and star-light, to improve his knowledge of the heavens. He had already ornamented his paper globe with several of the most remarkable constellations. Around the Pole-star he had discovered Perseus and Andromeda, and Cepheus and Cassiopeia's Chair. Between these and the bright Orion, which rose every night and glittered in the south, he discovered seven small stars that were set in a cluster, and called the Pleiades. Then, underneath Orion, he discovered another glittering star, called Sirius, or the Dog-star. All these, he continually observed, journeyed every night from east to west, and then appeared the evening after in their former places. "How strange it is," observed Tommy, one day to Mr Barlow, "How do you know," replied Mr Barlow, "that they turn at all?" Tommy.—Because I see them move every night. Mr Barlow.—But how are you sure that it is the stars which move every night, and not the earth itself? Tommy considered, and said, "But then I should see the earth move, and the stars stand still." Mr Barlow.—What, did you never ride in a coach? Tommy.—Yes, sir, very often. Mr Barlow.—And did you then see that the coach moved, as you sat still, and went along a level road? Tommy.—No, sir; I protest I have often thought that the houses and trees, and all the country, glided swiftly along by the windows of the coach. Mr Barlow.—And did you never sail in a boat? Tommy.—Yes, I have; and I protest I have observed the same thing; for I remember I have often thought the shore was running away from the boat, instead of the boat from the shore. Mr Barlow.—If that is the case, it is possible, even though the earth should move, instead of the stars, that you might only see what you do at present, and imagine that the earth you are upon was at rest. Tommy.—But is it not more likely that such little things as the stars and the sun should move, than such a large thing as the earth? Mr Barlow.—And how do you know that the stars and sun are so small? Tommy.—I see them to be so, sir. The stars are so small, that they are hardly to be seen at all; and the sun itself, which is much bigger, does not seem bigger than a small round table. The day after this conversation, as the weather was bright and clear, Mr Barlow went out to walk with Harry and Tommy. As by this time Tommy was inured to fatigue, and able to walk many miles, they continued their excursion over the hills, till at last they came in sight of the sea. As they were diverting themselves with the immense prospect of water that was before them, Mr Barlow perceived something floating at a distance, so small as to be scarcely discernible by the eye. He pointed it out to Tommy, who with some difficulty was able to distinguish it, and asked him what he thought it was. Tommy answered that he imagined it to be some little fishing-boat, but could not well tell, on account of the distance. Mr Barlow.—If you do not then see a ship, what is it you do see? or what does that object appear to your eyes? Tommy.—All that I can see is no more than a little dusky speck, which seems to grow bigger and bigger. Mr Barlow.—And what is the reason it grows bigger and bigger? Tommy.—Because it comes nearer and nearer to me. Mr Barlow.—What, then, does the same thing sometimes appear small and sometimes great? Tommy.—Yes, sir; it seems small when it is at a great distance; for I have observed even houses and churches when you are at some miles' distance, seem to the eye very small indeed; and now I observe that the vessel is sailing towards us, and it is not, as I imagined, a little fishing-boat, but a ship with a mast, for I begin to distinguish the sails. Mr Barlow walked on a little while by the side of the sea, and presently Tommy called out again: "I protest I was mistaken again; for it is not a vessel with one mast, as I thought a little while ago, but a fine large ship with three great masts, and all her sails before the wind. I believe she must either be a large merchantman or else a frigate." Mr Barlow.—Will you then take notice of what you have now been saying? What was first only a little dusky speck became a vessel with one mast, and now this vessel with one mast plainly appears a ship of a very large size, with all her masts and sails, and rigging complete. Yet all these three appearances are only the same object at different distances from your eye. Tommy.—Yes, sir; that is all very true indeed. Mr Barlow.—Why, then, if the ship, which is now, full in sight, were to tack about again, and sail away from us as fast as she approached just now what do you think would happen? Tommy.—It would grow less and less every minute, till it appeared a speck again. Mr Barlow.—You said, I think, that the sun was a very small body, not bigger than a round table? Tommy.—Yes, sir. Mr Barlow.—Supposing, then, the sun were to be removed to a much greater distance than it is now, what would happen? Would it appear the same to your eyes? Tommy considered some time, and then said, "If the ship grows less and less, till at last it appears a mere speck, by going farther and farther, I should think the sun would do the same." Mr Barlow.—There you are perfectly right; therefore, if the sun were to depart farther and farther from us, at last it would appear no bigger than one of those twinkling stars that you see at so great a distance above your head. Tommy.—That I perfectly comprehend. Mr Barlow.—But if, on the contrary, one of those twinkling stars were to approach nearer and nearer to where you stand, what do think would happen? Would it still appear of the same size? Tommy.—No, sir. The ship, as it came nearer to us, appeared every moment larger, and therefore I think the star must do the same. Mr Barlow.—Might it not then appear as big as the sun now does, just as the sun would dwindle away to the size of a star, were it to be removed to a still greater distance? Tommy.—Indeed I think it might. Mr Barlow.—What, then, do you imagine must happen, could the sun approach a great deal nearer to us? Would its size remain the same? Tommy.—No; I plainly see that it must appear bigger and bigger the nearer it comes. Mr Barlow.—If that is the case, it is not so very certain that the earth we inhabit is bigger than the sun and stars. They are at a very great distance from us; therefore, if anybody could go from the earth towards the sun, how do you think the earth would appear to him as he journeyed on? Tommy.—Really I can hardly tell. Mr Barlow.—No! Why, is it not the same thing, whether an object goes from you, or you from the object? Is there any difference between the ship sailing away from us, and our walking away from the ship? Tommy.—No, sir. Mr Barlow.—Did you not say that if the sun could be removed farther from our eyes, it would appear less? Tommy.—To be sure it would. Mr Barlow.—Why, then, if the earth were to sink down from under our feet, lower and lower, what would happen? Would it have the same appearance? Tommy.—No, sir; I think it must appear less and less, like the ship that is sailing away. Mr Barlow.—Very right, indeed; but now attend to what I asked you just now. If a person could rise slowly into the air, and mount still higher and higher towards the sun, what would happen? Tommy.—Why the same as if the earth were to sink from under us; it would appear less and less. Mr Barlow.—Might not the earth then at least appear as small as the sun or moon does? Tommy.—I can hardly conceive that, and yet I see it would appear less and less the farther we went. Mr Barlow.—Do you remember what happened to you when you left the island of Jamaica? Tommy.—Yes, I do. One of the blacks held me upon the deck, and then I looked towards the island, and I thought that it began to move away from the ship, though in reality it was the ship moving away from the land; and then, as the ship continued sailing along the water, the island appeared less and less. First, I lost sight of the trees and houses that stood on the shore; and then I could only see the highest mountains; and then I could scarcely see the mountains themselves; and at last the whole island appeared only like a dark mist above the water; and then the mist itself disappeared, and I could see nothing but a vast extent of water all round, and the sky above. Mr Barlow.—And must not this be exactly the case if you could rise up into the air, higher and higher, and look down upon the earth? Tommy.—Indeed it must. Mr Barlow.—Now, then, you will be able to answer the question I asked you a little while ago: Could a person travel straight forward from the earth to the sun, how would they both appear to him as he went forward? Tommy.—The earth would appear less and less as he went from it, and the sun bigger and bigger. Mr Barlow.—Why, then, perhaps it would happen at last that the sun appeared bigger than the earth. Tommy.—Indeed it might. Mr Barlow.—Then you see that you must no longer talk of the earth's being large and the sun small, since that may only happen because you are nearer the one and at a great distance from the other; at least, you may now be convinced that both the sun and stars must be immensely bigger than you would at first sight guess them to be. As they were returning home they happened to pass through a small town on their way, and saw a crowd of people going into a house, which gave Mr Barlow the curiosity to inquire the reason. They were told that there was a wonderful person there who performed a variety of strange and diverting experiments. On Tommy's expressing a great desire to see these curious exhibitions, Mr Barlow took them both in, and they all seated themselves among the audience. Presently the performer began his exhibitions, which very much diverted Tommy, and surprised the spectators. At length after a variety of curious tricks upon the cards, the conjuror desired them to observe a large basin of water, with the figure of a little swan floating upon the surface. "Gentlemen," said the man, "I have reserved this curious experiment for the last, because it is the most wonderful of all that I have to show, or that, perhaps, was ever exhibited to the present hour. You see that swan, it is no more than a little image, without either sense or life. If you have any doubt upon the subject, take it up in your hands and examine it." Accordingly, several of the spectators took it up in their hands, and, after having examined it, set it down upon the water. "Now," continued he, "this swan, which to you appears totally without sense or motion, is of so extraordinary a nature that he knows me, his master, and will follow in any direction that I command." Saying this, he took out a little piece of bread, and whistling to his bird, ordered him to come to the side of the basin to be fed. Immediately, to the great surprise of all the company, the swan turned about and swam to the side of the basin. The man whistled again, and presently the swan turned himself round and pursued the hand of his master to the other side of the basin. The spectators could hardly believe their eyes, and some of them got little pieces of bread, and held them out, imagining that he would do the same to them. But it was in vain they whistled and presented their bread; the bird remained unmoved upon the water, and obeyed no orders but those of his master. When this exhibition had been repeated over and over again, to the extreme delight and astonishment of all present, the company rose and dispersed, and Mr Barlow and the little boys pursued their way home. But Tommy's mind was so engaged with what he had seen, that for several days he could think and talk of nothing else. He would give all that he had in the world to find out this curious trick, and to be possessed of such a swan. At length, as he was one day talking to Harry upon this subject, Harry told him with a smile, that he believed he had found out a method of doing it, and that, if he did not mistake, he would the next day show him a swan that would come to be fed as well as the conjuror's. Accordingly, Harry moulded a bit of wax into the shape of a swan, and placed it upon a basin of water. He then presented to it a piece of bread, and, to the inexpressible delight of Tommy, the swan pursued the bread, just as he had seen before. After he had several times diverted himself with this experiment, he wanted to be informed of the composition of this wonderful swan. Harry therefore showed him, within the body of the bird, a large needle, which lay across it from one end to the other. In the bread with which the swan was fed, he also showed him concealed a small bar of iron. Tommy could not comprehend all this, although he saw it before his eyes; but Mr Barlow, who was present, taking up the bar of iron, and putting down several needles upon the table, Tommy was infinitely surprised to see the needles all jump up, one after another, at the approach of the bar, and shoot towards it, as if they had been possessed of life and sense. They then hung all about the bar so firmly, that, though it was lifted into the air, they all remained suspended, nor ever quitted their hold. Mr Barlow then placed a key upon the table, and putting the iron near it, the key attached itself as firmly to the bar as the needles had done before. All this appeared so surprising to Tommy, that he begged an explanation of it from Mr Barlow. That gentleman told him, "that there was a stone often found in iron mines, that was called the loadstone. This stone is naturally possessed of the surprising power of drawing to itself all pieces of iron that are not too large, nor placed at too great a distance. But what is equally extraordinary is, that iron itself, after having been rubbed upon the loadstone, acquires the same virtue as the stone itself, of attracting other iron. For this purpose they take small bars of iron, and rub them carefully upon the loadstone, and when they have acquired this very extraordinary power, they call them magnets. When Harry had seen the exhibition of the swan, upon revolving it over in his mind, he began to suspect that it was performed entirely by the power of magnetism. Upon his talking to me about the affair, I confirmed him in his opinion, and furnished him with a small magnet to put into the bread, and a large needle to conceal in the body of the bird. So this is the explanation of the feat which so much puzzled you a few days past." Mr Barlow had scarcely done speaking, when Tommy observed another curious property of the swan, which he had not found out before. This bird, when left to itself, constantly rested in one particular direction, and that direction was full north and south. Tommy inquired the reason of this, and Mr Barlow gave him this additional explanation: "The persons who first discovered the wonderful powers of the loadstone, in communicating its virtues to iron, diverted themselves, as we do now, in touching needles and small pieces of iron, which they made to float upon water, and attracted them about with other pieces of iron. But it was not long before they found out, as you do now, another surprising property of this wonderful stone; they observed, that when a needle had once been touched by the loadstone, if it was left to float upon the water without restraint, it would invariably turn itself towards the north. In a short time they improved the discovery farther, and contrived to suspend the middle of the needle upon a point, so loosely that it could move about in every direction; this they covered with a glass case, and by this means they always had it in their power to find out all the quarters of the heavens and earth." Tommy.—Was this discovery of any great use? Mr Barlow.—Before this time they had no other method of finding their way along the sea, but by observing the stars. They knew, by experience, in what part of the sky certain stars appeared at every season of the year, and this enabled them to discover east, west, north, and south. But when they set out from their own country by sea, they knew in which direction the place was situated which they were going to. If it lay to the east, they had only to keep the head of the ship turned full to that quarter of the heavens, and they would arrive at the place they were going to; and this they were enabled to do by observing the stars. But frequently the weather was thick, and the stars no longer appeared, and then they were left to wander about the pathless ocean without the smallest track to guide them in their course. Tommy.—Poor people! they must be in a dreadful situation indeed, tossed about on such an immense place as the sea, in the middle of a dark night, and not able even to guess at their situation. Mr Barlow.—For this reason they seldom dared to venture out of sight of the shore, for fear of losing their way, by which means all their voyages were long and tedious; for they were obliged to make them several times as long as they would have done, could they have taken the straight and nearest way. But soon after the discovery of this admirable property of the loadstone, they found that the needle, which had been thus prepared, was capable of showing them the different points of the heavens, even in the darkest night. This enabled them to sail with greater security, and to venture boldly upon the immense ocean, which they had always feared before. Tommy.—How extraordinary that a little stone should enable people to cross the sea, and to find their way from one country to another! But I wonder why they take all these pains. Mr Barlow.—That you need not wonder at, when you consider that one country frequently produces what another does not; and therefore, by exchanging their different commodities, the people of both may live more conveniently than they did before. Harry.—But does not almost every country produce all that is necessary to support the inhabitants of it? and therefore they might live, I should think, even though they received nothing from any other country. Mr Barlow.—So might your father live, perhaps, upon the productions of his own farm, but he sometimes sells his cattle to purchase clothes; sometimes his corn to purchase cattle. Then he frequently exchanges with his neighbours one kind of grain for another, and thus their mutual conveniency is better promoted than if each were to confine himself to the produce of his own land. At the same time, it is true, that every country which is inhabited by men, contains within itself all that is necessary for their subsistence, and what they bring from other countries is frequently more hurtful than salutary to them. Harry.—I have heard you say that even in Greenland, the coldest and most uncomfortable country in the world, the inhabitants procure themselves necessaries, and live contented. Tommy.—What! is there a part of the world still colder than Lapland? Mr Barlow.—Greenland is still farther north, and therefore colder and more barren. The ground is there covered with eternal snows, which never melt, even in the summer. There are scarcely any animals to be found, excepting bears, that live by preying upon fish. There are no trees growing upon any part of the country, so that the inhabitants have nothing to build their houses with, excepting the planks and trees which the sea washes away from other countries and leaves upon their coast. With these they erect large cabins, where several families live together. The sides of these huts are composed of earth and stones, and the top secured with turf; in a short time the whole is so cemented with frost, that it is impenetrable to the weather during the whole winter. Along the sides of the building are made several partitions, in each of which a Greenlander lives with his family. Each of these families have a small lamp continually burning before them, by means of which they cook their food, and light themselves, and, what is equally necessary in so cold a country, keep up agreeable warmth throughout their apartment. They have a few deer, which sometimes visit them in the summer, and which the Greenlanders kill whenever they can catch them; but they are almost entirely destitute of all the vegetables which serve as nourishment to man, so that they are obliged to be continually upon the sea, in order to catch fish for their maintenance. Tommy.—What a dreadful life that must be in a country which is so cold! Mr Barlow.—In consequence of that extreme cold, those northern seas are full of such immense quantities of ice, that they are sometimes almost covered with them. Huge pieces come floating down, which are not only as big as the largest houses, but even resemble small mountains. These are sometimes dashed against each other by the winds, with such immense force, that they would crush the strongest ship to pieces, and with a noise that exceeds the report of a cannon. Upon these pieces of ice are frequently seen white bears of an enormous size, which have either fallen asleep upon them, and so been carried away, or have straggled over those ice hills in search of fish. Tommy.—And is it possible that the inhabitants of such a country can find enough in it for all their necessities? Mr Barlow.—The necessities of life are very few, and are therefore to be found even in the most rugged climates, if men are not wanting to themselves, or deficient in industry. In plentiful countries like this, and in most of the more temperate climates, great numbers are maintained in idleness, and imagine that they were only born to live upon the labour of others; but, in such a country as Greenland is described to be, it requires continual exertion to procure the simplest support of human life; and therefore no one can live at all who will not employ himself in the same manner as his neighbours. Tommy.—You said that these people had neither flesh nor corn; do they then clothe themselves with the skins of fish, as well as live upon them? Mr Barlow.—There is in those seas a peculiar species of animal called a seal. He is nine or ten feet long, and has two small feet before, on which he is able to walk a little upon the shore, for he frequently comes out of the sea, and sleeps, or amuses himself upon the land or ice. His body is very large, and full of oil, and behind he has two legs which resemble fins, with which he swims in the water. This animal is the constant prey of the Greenlander, and furnishes him with all he wants. The flesh he eats, the fat serves him to feed his lamp, which is almost as necessary as food itself in that cold climate. With the skin he makes clothes that are impenetrable to the water, or lines the inside of his hut to keep out the weather. As this animal is so necessary to the existence of a Greenlander, it is his greatest glory to chase and take him. For this purpose he places himself in a small narrow boat, the top of which is covered over with the skins of seals, and closes round the middle of the fisher so tight as entirely to exclude the water. He has a long oar, or paddle, broad at both ends, which he dips first on one side, then on the other, and rows along with incredible swiftness over the roughest seas. He carries with him a harpoon, which is a kind of lance or javelin, tied to a long thong, at the end of which is fixed a bladder, or some other light thing that sinks with difficulty. When the fisherman is thus prepared, he skims lightly along the waters, till he perceives at a distance one of these animals floating upon the surface. The Greenlander then approaches him as softly as he is able, and, if possible, contrives that the animal shall have the wind and sun in his eyes. When he is sufficiently near he throws his harpoon, and generally wounds the creature, in which case he instantly hurries away, and carries with him the thong and bladder. But it is not long before he is compelled to rise again to the surface of the water to breathe; and then the Greenlander, who has been pursuing him all the time, attacks him anew, and dispatches him with a shorter lance, which he has brought with him for that purpose. He then ties his prey to his boat, and tows it after him to his family, who receive it with joy, and dress it for their supper. Although these poor people live a life of such continual fatigue, and are obliged to earn their food with so much hardship, they are generous and hospitable in the management of it, for there is not a person present but is invited to partake of the feast; and a Greenlander would think himself dishonoured for life, if he should be thought capable of wishing to keep it all to himself. Tommy.—I think it seems as if the less people had the more generous they are with it. Mr Barlow.—That is not unfrequently the case, and should be a lesson to many of our rich at home, who imagine that they have nothing to do with their fortune but to throw it away upon their pleasures, while there are so many thousands in want of the common necessaries of life. Tommy.—But, pray, sir, have you no more particulars to tell me about these Greenlanders? for I think it is the most curious account I ever heard in my life. Mr Barlow.—There is another very curious particular indeed to be mentioned of these countries; in these seas is found the largest animal in the world, an immense fish, which is called the whale. Tommy.—Oh dear! I have heard of that extraordinary animal. And pray, sir, do the Greenlanders ever catch them? Mr Barlow.—The whale is of such a prodigious size, that he sometimes reaches seventy or eighty, or even more than a hundred feet in length. He is from ten to above twenty feet in height, and every way large in proportion. When he swims along the seas, he appears rather like a large vessel floating upon the waters than a fish. He has two holes in his head, through which he blows out water to a great height in the air, immense fins, and a tail with which he almost raises a tempest when he lashes the sea with it. Would you not believe that such an animal was the most dreadful of the whole brute creation? Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I should! I should think that such a fish would overset whole ships, and devour the sailors. Mr Barlow.—Far from it; it is one of the most innocent in respect to man that the ocean produces, nor does he ever do him the least hurt, unless by Harry.—What numbers indeed must such a prodigious fish devour of these small animals! Mr Barlow.—The whale, in his turn, falls a prey to the cruelty and avarice of man. Some indeed are caught by the Greenlanders, who have a sufficient excuse for persecuting him with continual attacks, in their total want of vegetables, and every species of food which the earth affords. But the Europeans, who are too nice and squeamish to eat his flesh, send out great numbers of ships, every year, to destroy the poor whale, merely for the sake of the oil which his body contains, and the elastic bones which are known by the name of whalebone, and applied to several purposes. When those who go upon this dangerous expedition discern a whale floating at a distance, they instantly send out a large boat to pursue him. Some of the men row along as gently as possible, while the person that is appointed to attack the fish stands upon the forepart of the boat, holding in his hand a sharp harpoon, with which he is prepared to wound his prey. This is fastened to a long cord which lies ready coiled up in the boat, so that they may let it out in an instant, when the fish is struck; for such is his prodigious force, that, should the least impediment occur to stop the rope in its passage, he would instantly draw the boat after him down to the bottom of the sea. In order to prevent these dangerous accidents, a man stands constantly ready to divide the rope with a hatchet, in case it should happen to tangle; and another is continually pouring water over it for fear the swiftness of the motion should make it take fire. The poor whale, being thus wounded, darts away with inconceivable rapidity, and generally plunges to the bottom of the sea. The men have a prodigious quantity of cord ready to let out, and when their store is exhausted there are generally other boats ready to supply more. Thus is the poor animal overpowered and killed, in spite of his immense bulk and irresistible strength; for, gradually wearied with his own efforts and the loss of blood, he soon relaxes in his speed, and rises again to the top of the water. Then it is that the fishers, who have pursued him all the time with the hopes of such an opportunity, approach him anew, and attack him with fresh harpoons, till in the end his strength is entirely exhausted, the waves themselves are tinged with a bloody colour from his innumerable wounds, and he writhes himself about in strong convulsions and unutterable pain. Then the conflict is soon at an end; in a short time he breathes his last, and turning upon his back, floats like some large vessel upon the surface of the sea. The fishers then approach, and cut off the fins and other valuable parts, which they stow on board their ships; the fat, or blubber, as it is often called, is received into large hogsheads, and when boiled, to purify it, composes the common oil, which is applied to so many useful purposes. The remains of this vast body are left a prey to other fish and to the Greenlanders, who carefully collect every fragment which they can find, and apply it to their own use. Sometimes they go to pursue the whale themselves, but when they do, it is in large numbers, and they attack him nearly in the same manner as the Europeans do, only, as they are not so well supplied with cord, they fix the skins of seals, which they have inflated with air, to the end of the thongs which are tied to their harpoons, and this serves both to weary out the fish, who drags them with him under the water, and to discover him the instant he approaches to the surface. Harry.—I Mr Barlow.—You ought to know enough of the world to be sensible that the desire of gain will tempt men upon every expedition. However, in this case you must consider that the whale himself is continually supported by murdering thousands of herrings and other small fish; so that, were they possessed of reason, they would welcome the Europeans, who came to destroy their enemies, as friends and benefactors. Tommy.—But pray, sir, how do the little boys amuse themselves in such a dismal country? Do their fathers take them out a-fishing with them? Mr Barlow.—When the men come home all covered with wet and icicles, and sit down comfortably in their huts to feast upon the prey, their common conversation is about the dangers and accidents they have met with in their expedition. A Greenlander relates how he bounded over the waves to surprise the monstrous seal; how he pierced the animal with his harpoon, who had nearly dragged the boat with him under the water; how he attacked him again in closer combat; how the beast, enraged with his wounds, rushed upon him in order to destroy him with his teeth; and how, in the end, by courage and perseverance, he triumphed over his adversary, and brought it safe to land. All this will he relate with the vehemence and interest which people naturally feel for things which concern them nearly; he stands in the midst of his countrymen, and describes every minute circumstance of his adventures; the little children gather round, and greedily catch the relation; they feel themselves interested in every circumstance; they hear, and wish to share in the toils and glory of their fathers. When they are a little bigger they exercise themselves in small skiffs, with which they learn to overcome the waves. Nothing can be more dangerous, or require greater dexterity than the management of a Greenlander's boat. The least thing will overset it, and then, the man who cannot disengage himself from the boat, which is fastened to his middle, sinks down below the waves, and is inevitably drowned, if he cannot regain his balance. The only hope of doing this, is placed in the proper application of his oar, and, therefore, the dexterous management of this implement forms the early study of the young Greenlanders. In their sportive parties they row about in a thousand different manners. They dive under their boats, and then set them to rights with their paddle; they learn to glide over the roughest billows, and face the greatest dangers with intrepidity, till in the end they acquire sufficient strength and address to fish for themselves, and to be admitted into the class of men. Harry.—Pray, sir, is this the country where men travel about upon sledges that are drawn by dogs? Tommy.—Upon sledges drawn by dogs! that must be droll indeed. I had no idea that dogs could ever draw carriages. Mr Barlow.—The country you are speaking of is called Kamtschatka; it is indeed a cold and dreary country, but very distant from Greenland. The inhabitants there train up large dogs, which they harness to a sledge, upon which the master sits, and so performs his journey along the snow and ice. All the summer the Kamtschatkans turn their dogs loose to shift for themselves, and prey upon the remains of fish which they find upon the shore or the banks of the rivers (for fish is the common food of all the inhabitants); in the winter they assemble their dogs and use them for the purposes I have mentioned. They have no reins to govern the dogs, or stop them in their course, but the driver sits upon his sledge, and keeps himself as steady as he is able, holding in his hand a short stick, which he throws at the dogs if they displease him, and catches again with great dexterity as he passes. This way of travelling is not without danger, for the temper of the dogs is such, that when they descend hills and slippery places, and pass through woods where the driver is exposed to wound himself with the branches and stumps, they always quicken their pace. The same is observed in case their master should fall off, which they instantly discover by the sudden lightness of the carriage, for then they set off at such a rate that it is difficult to overtake them. The only way which the Kamtschatcan finds, is to throw himself at his length upon the ground, and lay hold on the empty sledge, suffering himself to be thus dragged along the earth, till the dogs, through weariness, abate their speed. "Frequently in their journeys these travellers are surprised by unexpected storms of wind and snow, which render it impracticable to proceed farther."P. 278. Tommy.—I could not have conceived it possible that men should be able to struggle with so many hardships. But do not the poor people who inhabit these cold climates quit them, whenever they can find an opportunity, and come to settle in those that are warmer? Mr Barlow.—Not in the least. When they hear that there are no seals to be caught in other countries, they say that they must be wretched indeed, and much inferior to their own. Besides, they have in general so great a contempt for all Europeans, that they have no inclination to visit the countries which they inhabit. Tommy.—How can that be? How can a parcel of wretched ignorant savages despise men that are so much superior to themselves? Mr Barlow.—This is not what they are quite so well convinced of. The Greenlanders, for instance, see that the Europeans who visit them are much inferior to themselves in the art of managing a boat or catching seals; in short, in everything which they find most useful to support life. For this reason, they consider them all with very great contempt, and look upon them as little better than barbarians. Tommy.—That is very impertinent indeed; and I should like to convince them of their folly. Mr Barlow.—Why, do not you look upon yourself as much superior to your black servants; and have I not often heard you express great contempt for them? Tommy.—I do not despise them now, so much as I used to do. Besides, sir, I only think myself something better, because I have been brought up like a gentleman. Mr Barlow.—A gentleman! I have never exactly understood what a gentleman is, according to your notions. Tommy.—Why, sir, when a person is not brought up to work, and has several people to wait upon him, like my father and mother, then he is a gentleman. Mr Barlow.—And then he has a right to despise others, has he? Tommy.—I do not say that, sir, neither. But he is, however, superior to them. Mr Barlow.—Superior, in what? In the art of cultivating the ground to raise food, and making clothes or houses? Tommy.—No, sir, not that; for gentlemen never plough the ground or build Mr Barlow.—Is he then superior in knowledge? Were you, who have been brought up a gentleman, superior to all the rest of the world when you came here? Tommy.—To be sure, sir; when I came here I did not know so much as I do now. Mr Barlow.—If then you, when you knew nothing, and could do nothing, thought yourself superior to all the rest of the world, why should you wonder, that men who really excel others in those things which they see absolutely necessary, should have the same good opinion of themselves? Were you to be in Greenland, for instance, how would you prove your own superiority and importance? Tommy.—I would tell them that I had always been well brought up at home. Mr Barlow.—That they would not believe. They would say that they saw you were totally unable to do anything useful—to guide a boat; to swim the seas; to procure yourself the least sustenance—so that you would perish with hunger, if they did not charitably afford you now and then a bit of whale or seal; and, as to your being a gentleman, they would not understand the word, nor would they comprehend why one man, who is naturally as good as his fellow-creature, should submit to the caprice of another, and obey him. Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I begin to think that I am not so much better than others, as I used to do. Mr Barlow.—The more you encourage that thought the more likely you are to acquire real superiority and excellence, for great and generous minds are less exposed to that ridiculous vanity than weak and childish ones. A few evenings after this conversation, when the night was remarkably clear, Mr Barlow called his two pupils into the garden, where there was a long hollow tube suspended upon a frame. Mr Barlow then placed Tommy upon a chair, and bade him look through it, which he had scarcely done when he cried out, "What an extraordinary sight is this!" "What is the matter?" said Mr Barlow. "I see," replied Tommy, "what I should take for the moon were it not a great many times bigger, and so near to me that I can almost touch it." "What you see," answered Mr Barlow, smiling, "is the moon itself. This glass has indeed the power of making it appear to your eye as it would do could you approach a great deal nearer; but still it is nothing but the moon; and from this single experiment you may judge of the different size which the sun and all the other heavenly bodies would appear to have, if you could advance a great deal nearer to them." Tommy was delighted with this new spectacle. The moon, he said, viewed in this manner, was the most glorious sight he had ever seen in his life. "And I protest," added he, "it seems to be shaded in such a manner, that it almost resembles land and water." "What you say," answered Mr Barlow, "is by no means unreasonable. The moon is a very large body, and may be, for ought we know, inhabited like the earth." Tommy was more and more astonished at the introduction of all these new ideas; but what he was particularly inquisitive about was, to know the reason of this extraordinary change in the appearance of objects, only by looking through a hollow tube with a bit of glass fixed into it. "All this," replied Mr Barlow, "I will, if you desire it, one day explain to you; but it is rather too long and difficult to undertake it at the present moment. When you are a little farther advanced in some of the things which you are now studying, you will comprehend me better. However, before we retire to-night, I will show you something more, which will perhaps equally surprise you." They then returned to the house, and Mr Barlow, who had prepared everything for his intended exhibition, led Tommy into a room, where he observed nothing but a lantern upon the floor, and a white sheet hung up against the wall. Tommy laughed, and said he did not see anything very curious in all that. "Well," said Mr Barlow, "perhaps I may surprise you yet, before I have done; let us at least light up the lantern, that you may see a little clearer." Mr Barlow then lighted a lamp which was within the lantern, and extinguished all the other candles; and Tommy was instantly struck with astonishment to see a gigantic figure of a man, leading along a large bear, appear upon the wall, and glide slowly along the sheet. As he was admiring this wonderful sight, a large monkey, dressed up in the habit of a man, appeared and followed the bear; after him came an old woman trundling a barrow of fruit, and then two boys (who, however, were as big as men) that seemed to be fighting as they passed. Tommy could hardly find words to express his pleasure and admiration, and he entreated Mr Barlow in the most earnest manner to explain to him the reason of all these wonderful sights. "At present," said Mr Barlow, "you are not sufficiently advanced to comprehend the explanation. However, thus much I will inform you, that both the wonderful tube which showed you the moon so much larger than you ever saw it before, and this curious exhibition of to-night, and a variety of others, which I will hereafter show you, if you desire it, depend entirely upon such a little bit of glass as this." Mr Barlow then put into his hand a small round piece of glass, which resembled the figure of a globe on both sides. "It is by looking through such pieces of glass as Tommy was wonderfully delighted with all these experiments, and declared that from this day forward, he would never rest till he had made himself acquainted with everything curious in every branch of knowledge. "I remember reading a story," said Mr Barlow, "where a telescope (for that is the name of the glass which brings distant objects so much nearer to the eye) was used to a very excellent purpose indeed." "Pray, how was that?" said Tommy. "In some part of Africa," said Mr Barlow, "there was a prince who was attacked by one of his most powerful neighbours, and almost driven out of his dominions. He had done everything he could do to defend himself with the greatest bravery, but was overpowered by the numbers of his enemy, and defeated in several battles. At length he was reduced to a very small number of brave men, who still accompanied him, and had taken possession of a steep and difficult hill, which he determined to defend to the last extremity, while the enemy was in possession of all the country round. While he lay with his little army in this disagreeable situation, he was visited by a European, whom he had formerly received and treated with the greatest kindness. To this man the unfortunate prince made his complaints, telling him that he was exposed every instant to be attacked by his stronger foe; and though he had taken his resolution he expected nothing but to be cut off with all his army. "The European happened to have with him one of these curious glasses, which had not long been invented in Europe, and was totally unknown in that part of the globe; and he told the prince, his friend, that he would soon inform him of what his enemy was doing, and then he might take his own measures with the greater confidence. So he produced his glass, and after having adjusted it, turned it towards the enemy's camp, which he observed some time with great attention, and then told his friend that he might at least be easy for the present, for the enemy's general was at that instant thinking only of a great feast, which he was giving to the officers of his army. 'How is it possible,' replied the prince, 'that you can pretend to discover so accurately what is done in yonder camp? My eyes, I think, are at least as good as yours; and yet the distance is so great, that I can discover nothing distinctly.' The European then desired his friend to look through the telescope, which he had no sooner done, than he rose in great trepidation, and was going to mount his horse; for the spectacle was so new to him, that he imagined the enemy was close to him, and that nothing remained but to stand upon his defence. The European could not help smiling at this mistake; and after he had with some difficulty removed his panic, by explaining the wonderful powers of the glass, he prevailed upon him to be quiet. "But the unexpected terror which this telescope had excited inspired him with a sudden thought, which he determined to improve to the advantage of the besieged prince. Acquainting him therefore with his intention, he desired him to draw out all his men in their military array, and to let them descend the mountain slowly, clashing their arms and waving their swords as they marched. He then mounted a horse, and rode to the enemy's camp, where he no sooner arrived than he desired to be instantly introduced to the general. He found him sitting in his tent carousing in the midst of his officers, and not at all thinking of an engagement. When he approached he thus accosted him; 'I am come, great warrior, as a friend, to acquaint you with a circumstance that is absolutely necessary to the safety of yourself and army.' 'What is that?' said the general, with some surprise. 'At this instant,' replied the European, 'while you are indulging yourself in festivity, the enemy, who has lately been reinforced with a large body of his most valiant troops, is advancing to attack you, and even now has almost penetrated to your camp.' 'I have here,' added he, 'a wonderful glass, the composition of which is only known in Europe, and if you will condescend to look through it for a moment, it will convince you that all I say is truth.' Saying this, he directed his eye to the telescope, which the general had no sooner looked into than he was struck with consternation and affright. He saw the prince, whom he had long considered as lying at his mercy, advancing with his army in excellent order, and, as he imagined, close to his camp. He could even discern the menacing air of the soldiers, and the brandishing of their swords as they moved. His officers, who thronged round him to know the cause of his sudden fright, had no sooner peeped into the wonderful glass than they were all affected in the same manner. Their heads had been already disturbed by their intemperance, and therefore, without waiting to consult, they rushed in a panic out of their tents, mounted their swiftest horses, and fled away, without staying to see the consequences. The rest of the army, who had seen the consternation of their leaders, and had heard that the enemy was advancing to destroy them, were struck with an equal panic, and instantly followed the example, so that the whole plain was covered with men and horses, that made all possible haste towards their own country, without thinking of resistance. Thus was an immense army dispersed in an instant, and the besieged prince delivered from his danger by the address and superior knowledge of a single man." "Thus you see," added Mr Barlow, "of how much use a superiority of knowledge is frequently capable of making individuals. But a still more famous instance is that of Archimedes, one of the most celebrated mathematicians of his time. He, when the city of And now the time approached when Mr Barlow was accustomed to invite greater part of the poor of his parish to an annual dinner. He had a large hall, which was almost filled with men, women, and children, a cheerful fire blazed in the chimney, and a prodigious table was placed in the middle for the company to dine upon. Mr Barlow himself received his guests, and conversed with them about the state of their families and their affairs. Those that were industrious, and brought their children up to labour, instructing them in the knowledge of their duty, and preserving them from bad impressions, were sure to meet with his encouragement and commendations. Those that had been ill he assisted with such little necessaries as tended to alleviate their pains, and diffuse a gleam of cheerfulness over their sufferings. "How hard," he would say, "is the lot of the poor when they are afflicted with sickness! How intolerable do we find the least bodily disorder, even though we possess every convenience that can mitigate its violence! Not all the dainties which can be collected from all the elements, the warmth of downy beds and silken couches, the attendance of obsequious dependants, are capable of making us bear with common patience the most common disease; how pitiable, then, must be the state of a fellow-creature, who is at once tortured by bodily suffering, and destitute of every circumstance which can alleviate it; who sees around him a family that are not only incapable of assisting their parents, but destined to want the common necessaries of life, the moment he intermits his daily labours! How indispensable, then, is the obligation which should continually impel the rich to exert themselves in assisting their fellow-creatures, and rendering that condition of life which we all avoid less dreadful to those who must support it always!" Acting from such principles as these, Mr Barlow was the common friend of all the species. Whatever his fortune would allow him to perform he never refused to all who stood in need of his assistance. But there is yet a duty which he thought of more importance than the mere distribution of property to the needy—the encouragement of industry and virtue among the poor, and giving them juster notions of morals and religion. "If we have a dog," he would say, "we refuse neither pains nor expense to train him up to hunting; if we have a horse, we send him to an experienced rider to be bitted; but our own species seems to be the only animal which is entirely exempted from our care." When he rode about the country he used to consider with admiration the splendid stables which the great construct for the reception of their horses, their ice-houses, temples, hermitages, grottoes, and all the apparatus of modern vanity. "All this," he would say, "is an unequivocal proof the gentleman loves himself, and grudges no expense that can gratify his vanity; but I would now wish to see what he has done for his fellow-creatures; what are the proofs that he has given of public spirit or humanity, the wrongs which he has redressed, the miseries he has alleviated, the abuses which he has endeavoured to remove!" When he was told of the stubbornness and ingratitude of the poor, he used to say, "that he believed it without difficulty, for they were men in common with their superiors, and therefore must share in some of their vices; but if the interests of humanity were half so dear to us as the smallest article that pleases our palate or flatters our vanity, we should not so easily abandon them in disgust." Mr Barlow happened once to be in company with a lady with whom he was upon a footing of intimacy, who was talking in this manner. "Nobody," she said, "had greater feeling than herself, or was more desirous of assisting her fellow-creatures. When she first came into the country she had endeavoured to relieve all the misery she heard of; she had given victuals to one, physic to a second, and clothes to a third; but she had met with such ill-behaviour and ingratitude in return, that she had long been obliged to resign all her charitable intentions, and abandon the poor to their fate." All the company assented to a doctrine that was so very conformable to their own practice and inclinations, and agreed that nothing could be more injudicious than any attempts to be charitable. Some little time after this conversation cards were produced, and the lady, who had been so eloquent against the poor, sat down to whist, at which she played for several hours with equal ignorance and ill-fortune. When the party was over she was complaining to Mr Barlow of her losses, and added that she scarcely ever in her life had sat down to cards with better success. "I wonder, Such were the opinions of Mr Barlow in respect to the poor; and therefore, instead of widening the distance which fortune has placed between one part of mankind and another, he was continually intent upon bringing the two classes nearer together. Poverty has in itself so many hardships and disagreeable circumstances, that we need not increase their number by unnecessary pride and insolence. The distinctions of rank may indeed be necessary to the government of a populous country, but it is for the good of the whole, not of individuals, that they can have any just claim to be admitted, and therefore a good man will insist upon them no more than is absolutely necessary for that purpose. On the contrary, whatever may he his rank or importance, he will plainly prove, by the courtesy and benevolence of his manners, that he laments the necessity of his own elevation, and, instead of wishing to mount still higher, would willingly descend nearer to an equality with his fellow-creatures. Tommy was very much diverted with the ceremonies of this festal day. He had lost a great part of his West Indian pride during his residence with Mr Barlow, and had contracted many acquaintances among the families of the poor. After the example of Mr Barlow, he condescended to go about from one to the other, and make inquiries about their families; nor was he a little gratified with the extreme respect with which he found himself treated, both on the account of Mr Barlow and the reputation of his own liberality. Thus did the morning pass away in the most agreeable and auspicious manner; but after dinner an unexpected incident occurred, which clouded all the merriment of the unfortunate Tommy Merton. Mr Barlow happened to have a large Newfoundland dog, equally famous for his good-nature and his love of the water. With this dog Tommy had been long forming an acquaintance, and he used to divert himself with throwing sticks into the water, which CÆsar would instantly bring out in his mouth, however great might be the distance. Tommy had been fired with the description of the Kamtschatkan dogs, and their method of drawing sledges, and meditated an enterprise of this nature on CÆsar. This very day, finding himself unusually at leisure, he chose for the execution of his project. He therefore furnished himself with some rope and a kitchen chair, which he destined for his vehicle instead of a sledge. He then inveigled CÆsar into a large yard behind the house, and, extending the chair flat upon the ground, fastened him to it with great care and ingenuity. CÆsar, who did not understand the new purpose to which he was going to be applied, suffered himself to be harnessed without opposition, and Tommy mounted triumphantly his seat, with a whip in his hand, and began his operations. A crowd of little boys, the sons of the labourers within, now gathered round the young gentleman, and by their admiration very much increased his ardour to distinguish himself. Tommy began to use the common expressions which he had heard coachmen practise to their horses, and smacked his whip with all the confidence of an experienced charioteer. CÆsar, meanwhile, who did not comprehend this language, began to be a little impatient, and expressed his uneasiness by making several bounds and rearing up like a restive horse. This added very much to the diversion of the spectators, and Tommy, who considered his honour as materially concerned in achieving the adventure, began to be a little more warm; and proceeding from one experiment to another, at length applied a pretty severe lash to the hinderpart of his steed. This CÆsar resented so much that he instantly set off at three-quarters speed, and dragged the chair with the driver upon it at a prodigious rate. Tommy now looked round with an infinite air of triumph, and kept his seat with surprising address and firmness. Unfortunately there happened to be, at no great distance, a large horse-pond, which went shelving down to the depth of three or four feet. Hither, by a kind of natural instinct, the affrighted CÆsar ran, when he found he could not disengage himself from his tormentor; while Tommy, who now began to repent of his success, endeavoured to pacify and restrain him. But all his expostulations were vain, for CÆsar precipitately rushed into the pond, and in an instant plunged into the middle with his charioteer behind him. The crowd of spectators had now a fresh subject of diversion, and all their respect for Master Tommy could not hinder them from bursting into shouts of derision. The unfortunate hero was equally discomposed at the unmannerly exultation of his attendants, and at his own ticklish situation. But he did not long wait for the catastrophe of his adventure; for, after a little floundering in the pond, CÆsar, by a vigorous exertion, overturned the chair, and Tommy came roughly into the water. To add to his misfortune, the pond was at that time neither ice nor water; for a sudden thaw had commenced the day before, accompanied by a copious fall of snow. Tommy, therefore, as soon as he had recovered his footing, floundered on through mud and water and pieces of floating ice, like some amphibious animal to the shore; sometimes his feet slipped, and down he tumbled, and then he struggled up again, shaking the water from his hair and clothes. Now his feet stuck fast in the mud, and now, by a desperate effort, he disengaged himself with the loss of both his shoes; thus labouring on, with infinite pain and difficulty he reached the land. The whole troop of spectators were now incapable of stifling their laughter, which broke forth in such redoubled peals, that the unfortunate hero was irritated to an extreme degree of rage, so that, forgetting his own sufferings and necessities, as soon as he had struggled to the shore, he fell upon them in a fury, and dealt his blows so liberally on every side, that he put the whole company to flight. Tommy was now in the situation of a warrior that pursues a routed army. Dismay and terror scattered all his little associates a hundred different ways, while passion and revenge animated him to the pursuit, and made him forgetful of the wetness of his clothes, and the uncomfortableness of his situation. Whatever unfortunate boy came within his reach was sure to be unmercifully cuffed and pommelled; for, in the fury with which he felt himself inspired, he did not wait to consider the exact rules of justice. While Tommy was thus revenging the affronts he imagined he had received, and chasing the vanquished about the court, the unusual noise and uproar which ensued reached the ears of Mr Barlow, and brought him to the door. He could hardly help laughing at the rueful figure of his friend, with the water dropping from every part of his body in copious streams, and at the rage which seemed to animate him in spite of his disaster. It was with some difficulty that Tommy could compose himself enough to give Mr Barlow an account of his misfortunes, which, when he had heard, he immediately led him into the house, and advised him to undress and go to bed. He then brought him some warm diluting liquors, by which means he avoided all the bad effects which might otherwise have arisen from so complete a drenching. The next day Mr Barlow laughed at Tommy in his usual good-natured manner, and asked him if he intended to ride out in the Kamtschatkan manner; adding, however, that he should be afraid to attend him, as he had the habit of beating his companions. Tommy was a little confounded at this insinuation, but replied, "that he should not have been so provoked if they had not laughed at his misfortunes, and he thought it very hard to be wetted and ridiculed both." "But," replied Mr Barlow, "did their noise or laughter do you any great damage, that you endeavoured to return it so roughly?" Tommy answered, "that he must own it did not do him any hurt, or give him any pain." "Why, then," said Mr Barlow, "I do not see the justice of your returning it in that manner." "But," said Tommy, "it is so provoking to be laughed at!" "There are two ways of remedying that," replied Mr Barlow, "either not doing such things as will expose you to ridicule, or by learning to bear it with a little more patience." "But," said Tommy, "I do not think that anybody can bear it with patience." "All the world," said Mr Barlow, "are not quite so passionate as you are. It is not long ago that you were speaking of the poor Greenlanders with great contempt, and fancying them much inferior to yourself; yet those poor barbarians, as you called them, that live upon fish, and are not brought up like gentlemen's sons, are capable of giving you a lesson that would be of the greatest service if you would but observe it." "What is that, sir?" inquired Tommy. "They are brought up to so much moderation and self-command," said Mr Barlow, "that they never give way to those sudden impulses of passion that are common among the Europeans; and when they observe their violent gestures, their angry words, their countenances inflamed with wrath, they feel for them the greatest contempt, and say they must have been very badly educated. As to themselves, if any person think himself ill-used by another, without putting himself into any passion upon the occasion, he defies his foe to meet him at a particular time, before all their mutual acquaintance." Tommy.—But then I suppose they fight; and that is being as passionate as I was. Mr |
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