Thomas Day

Arrival of Mr Barlow—Story of Polemo—Tommy's repentance—Story of Sophron and Tigranes—Tommy as an Arabian Horseman—His Mishap—Tommy's intrepidity—The Poor Highlander's story—Tommy's Sorrow for his conduct to Harry—Conclusion of the Story of Sophron and Tigranes—Tommy's resolution to study nothing but "reason and philosophy"—Visits Harry and begs his forgiveness—The Grateful Black's Story—Tommy takes up his abode at Farmer Sandford's—The Grateful Black's account of himself—Mr Merton's visit to the Farm—The unexpected present—Conclusion.

While Mr Merton was occupied by these uneasy feelings, he was agreeably surprised by a visit from Mr Barlow, who came accidentally to see him, with a perfect ignorance of all the great events which had so recently happened.

Mr Merton received this worthy man with the sincerest cordiality; but there was such a gloom diffused over all his manners that Mr Barlow began to suspect that all was not right with Tommy, and therefore purposely inquired after him, to give his father an opportunity of speaking. This Mr Merton did not fail to do; and taking Mr Barlow affectionately by the hand, he said, "Oh, my dear Sir, I begin to fear that all my hopes are at an end in that boy, and all your kind endeavours thrown away. He has just behaved in such a manner as shows him to be radically corrupted, and insensible of every principle but pride." He then related to Mr Barlow every incident of Tommy's behaviour; making the severest reflections upon his insolence and ingratitude, and blaming his own supineness, that had not earlier checked these boisterous passions, that now burst forth with such a degree of fury that threatened ruin to his hopes.

"Indeed," answered Mr Barlow, "I am very sorry to hear this account of my little friend; yet I do not see it in quite so serious a light as yourself; and though I cannot deny the dangers that may arise from a character so susceptible of false impressions, and so violent, at the same time, yet I do not think the corruption either so great or so general as you seem to suspect. Do we not see, even in the most trifling habits of body or speech, that a long and continual attention is required, if we would wish to change them, and yet our perseverance is, in the end, generally successful; why, then, should we imagine that those of the mind are less obstinate, or subject to different laws? Or why should we rashly abandon ourselves to despair, from the first experiments that do not succeed according to our wishes?"

"Indeed," answered Mr Merton, "what you say is perfectly consistent with the general benevolence of your character, and most consolatory to the tenderness of a father. Yet I know too well the general weakness of parents in respect to the faults of their children not to be upon my guard against the delusions of my own mind. And when I consider the abrupt transition of my son into everything that is most inconsistent with goodness,—how lightly, how instantaneously he seems to have forgotten everything he had learned with you,—I cannot help forming the most painful and melancholy presages of the future."

"Alas, sir," answered Mr Barlow, "what is the general malady of human nature but this very instability which now appears in your son? Do you imagine that half the vices of men arise from real depravity of heart? On the contrary, I am convinced that human nature is infinitely more weak than wicked, and that the greater part of all bad conduct springs rather from want of firmness than from any settled propensity to evil."

"Indeed," replied Mr Merton, "what you say is highly reasonable; nor did I ever expect that a boy so long indulged and spoiled should be exempt from failings. But what particularly hurts me is to see him proceed to such disagreeable extremities without any adequate temptation—extremities that, I fear, imply a defect of goodness and generosity—virtues which I always thought he had possessed in a very great degree."

"Neither," answered Mr Barlow, "am I at all convinced that your son is deficient in either. But you are to consider the prevalence of example, and the circle to which you have lately introduced him. If it is so difficult even for persons of a more mature age and experience to resist the impressions of those with whom they constantly associate, how can you expect it from your son? To be armed against the prejudices of the world, and to distinguish real merit from the splendid vices which pass current in what is called society, is one of the most difficult of human sciences. Nor do I know a single character, however excellent, that would not candidly confess he has often made a wrong election, and paid that homage to a brilliant outside which is only due to real merit."

"You comfort me very much," said Mr Merton, "but such ungovernable passion, such violence and impetuosity——"

"Are indeed very formidable," replied Mr Barlow, "yet, when they are properly directed, frequently produce the noblest effects. You have, I doubt not, read the story of Polemo, who, from a debauched young man, became a celebrated philosopher, and a model of virtue, only by attending a single moral lecture."

"Indeed," said Mr Merton, "I am ashamed to confess that the various employments and amusements in which I have passed the greater part of my life have not afforded me as much leisure for reading as I could wish. You will therefore oblige me very much by repeating the story you allude to."

"THE STORY OF POLEMO."

"Polemo (said Mr Barlow) was a young man of Athens, and although he was brought up with the most tender solicitude and care by his mother, and at one time promised fair to be of a studious and virtuous turn of mind, as he appeared very fond of reading, and much attached to literary pursuits, and would frequently retire into the fields, and for hours sit upon the stump of a tree, with his book before him,—still, after a few years, he became so distinguished by his excesses, that he was the aversion of all the discreeter part of the city. He led a life of intemperance and dissipation, and was constantly surrounded by a set of loose young men who imitated and encouraged his vices; and when they had totally drowned the little reason they possessed in copious draughts of wine, they were accustomed to sally out, and practise every species of absurd and licentious frolic.

"One morning they were thus wandering about, after having spent the night as usual, when they beheld a great concourse of people that were listening to the discourse of a celebrated philosopher named Xenocrates. The greater part of the young men, who still retained some sense of shame, were so struck with this spectacle, that they turned out of the way; but Polemo, who was more daring and abandoned than the rest, pressed forward into the midst of the audience. His figure was too remarkable not to attract universal notice; for his head was crowned with flowers, his robe hung negligently about him, and his whole body was reeking with perfumes; besides, his look and manner were such as very little qualified him for such a company. Many of the audience were so displeased at this interruption, that they were ready to treat the young man with great severity; but the venerable philosopher prevailed upon them not to molest the intruder, and calmly continued his discourse, which happened to be upon the dignity and advantages of temperance.

"As the sage proceeded in his oration, he descanted upon this subject, with so much force and eloquence that the young man became more composed and attentive, as it were in spite of himself. Presently the philosopher grew still more animated in his representation of the shameful slavery which attends the giving way to our passions, and the sublime happiness of reducing them all to order; and then the countenance of Polemo began to change, and the expression of it to be softened; he cast his eyes in mournful silence upon the ground, as if in deep repentance for his own contemptible conduct. Still the aged speaker increased in vehemence; he seemed to be animated with the sacred genius of the art which he professed, and to exercise an irresistible power over the minds of his hearers. He drew the portrait of an ingenious and modest young man who had been bred up to virtuous toils and manly hardiness; he painted him triumphant over all his passions, and trampling upon human fears and weakness: 'Should his country be invaded, you see him fly to its defence, and ready to pour forth all his blood; calm and composed he appears, with a terrible beauty, in the front of danger; the ornament and bulwark of his country; the thickest squadrons are penetrated by his resistless valour, and he points the path of victory to his admiring followers. Should he fall in battle, how glorious is his lot; to be cut off in the honourable discharge of his duty; to be wept by all the brave and virtuous, and to survive in the eternal records of fame?'

"While Xenocrates was thus discoursing, Polemo seemed to be transported with a sacred enthusiasm; his eyes flashed fire, his countenance glowed with martial indignation, and the whole expression of his person was changed. Presently the philosopher, who had remarked the effect of his discourse, painted in no less glowing colours the life and manners of an effeminate young man; 'Unhappy youth,' said he, 'what word shall I find equal to thy abasement? Thou art the reproach of thy parents, the disgrace of thy country, the scorn or pity of every generous mind. How is nature dishonoured in thy person, and all her choicest gifts abortive! That strength which would have rendered thee the glory of thy city and the terror of her foes, is basely thrown away on luxury and intemperance; thy youth and beauty are wasted in riot, and prematurely blasted by disease. Instead of the eye of fire, the port of intrepidity, the step of modest firmness, a squalid paleness sits upon thy face, a bloated corpulency enfeebles thy limbs, and presents a picture of human nature in its most abject state. But hark! the trumpet sounds; a savage band of unrelenting enemies has surrounded the city, and are preparing to scatter flames and ruin through the whole! The virtuous youth, that have been educated to nobler cares, arm with generous emulation, and fly to its defence. How lovely do they appear, dressed in resplendent arms, and moving slowly on in close impenetrable phalanx! They are animated by every motive which can give energy to a human breast, and lift it up to the sublimest achievements. Their hoary sires, their venerable magistrates, the beauteous forms of trembling virgins, attend them to the war, with prayers and acclamations. Go forth, ye generous bands, secure to meet the rewards of victory or the repose of honourable death! Go forth, ye generous bands, but unaccompanied by the wretch I have described! His feeble arm refuses to bear the ponderous shield; the pointed spear sinks feebly from his grasp; he trembles at the noise and tumult of the war, and flies like the hunted hart to lurk in shades and darkness. Behold him roused from his midnight orgies, reeking with wine and odours, and crowned with flowers, the only trophies of his warfare; he hurries with trembling steps across the city; his voice, his gait, his whole deportment, proclaim the abject slave of intemperance, and stamp indelible infamy upon his name.'

"While Xenocrates was thus discoursing, Polemo listened with fixed attention. The former animation of his countenance gave way to a visible dejection; presently his lips trembled and his cheeks grew pale; he was lost in melancholy recollection, and a silent tear was observed to trickle down. But when the philosopher described a character so like his own, shame seemed to take entire possession of his soul; and, rousing as from a long and painful lethargy, he softly raised his hand to his head, and tore away the chaplets of flowers, the monuments of his effeminacy and disgrace; he seemed intent to compose his dress into a more decent form, and wrapped his robe about him, which before hung loosely waving with an air of studied effeminacy. But when Xenocrates had finished his discourse, Polemo approached him with all the humility of conscious guilt, and begged to become his disciple, telling him that he had that day gained the most glorious conquest that had ever been achieved by reason and philosophy, by inspiring with the love of virtue a mind that had been hitherto plunged in folly and sensuality. Xenocrates embraced the young man, and admitted him among his disciples. Nor had he ever reason to repent of his facility; for Polemo, from that hour, abandoned all his former companions and vices, and by his uncommon ardour for improvement, very soon became celebrated for virtue and wisdom, as he had before been for every contrary quality."

"Thus," added Mr Barlow, "you see how little reason there is to despair of youth, even in the most disadvantageous circumstances. It has been justly observed, that few know all they are capable of: the seeds of different qualities frequently lie concealed in the character, and only wait for an opportunity of exerting themselves; and it is the great business of education to apply such motives to the imagination as may stimulate it to laudable exertions. For thus the same activity of mind, the same impetuosity of temper, which, by being improperly applied, would only form a wild, ungovernable character, may produce the steadiest virtues, and prove a blessing both to the individual and his country."

"I am infinitely obliged to you for this story," said Mr Merton; "and as my son will certainly find a Xenocrates in you, I wish that you may have reason to think him in some degree a Polemo. But since you are so kind as to present me these agreeable hopes, do not leave the work unfinished, but tell me what you think the best method of treating him in his present critical situation." "That," said Mr Barlow, "must depend, I think, upon the workings of his own mind. He has always appeared to me generous and humane, and to have a fund of natural goodness amid all the faults which spring up too luxuriantly in his character. It is impossible that he should not be at present possessed with the keenest shame for his own behaviour. It will be your first part to take advantage of these sentiments, and instead of a fleeting and transitory sensation, to change them into fixed and active principles. Do not at present say much to him upon the subject. Let us both be attentive to the silent workings of his mind, and regulate our behaviour accordingly."

This conversation being finished, Mr Merton introduced Mr Barlow to the company in the other room. Mrs Merton, who now began to be a little staggered in some of the opinions she had been most fond of, received him with uncommon civility, and all the rest of the company treated him with the greatest respect. But Tommy, who had lately been the oracle and admiration of all this brilliant circle, appeared to have lost all his vivacity; he, indeed, advanced to meet Mr Barlow with a look of tenderness and gratitude, and made the most respectful answers to all his inquiries; but his eyes were involuntarily turned to the ground, and silent melancholy and dejection were visible in his face.

Mr Barlow remarked, with the greatest pleasure, these signs of humility and contrition, and pointed them out to Mr Merton the first time he had an opportunity of speaking to him without being overheard; adding, "that, unless he was much deceived, Tommy would soon give ample proofs of the natural goodness of his character, and reconcile himself to all his friends." Mr Merton heard this observation with the greatest pleasure, and now began to entertain some hopes of seeing it accomplished.

After the dinner was over most of the young gentlemen went away to their respective homes. Tommy seemed to have lost much of the enthusiasm which he had lately felt for his polite and accomplished friends; he even appeared to feel a secret joy at their departure, and answered with a visible coldness at professions of regard and repeated invitations. Even Mrs Compton herself, and Miss Matilda, who were also departing, found him as insensible as the rest; though they did not spare the most extravagant praises and the warmest professions of regard.

And now, the ceremonies of taking leave being over, and most of the visitors departed, a sudden solitude seemed to have taken possession of the house, which was lately the seat of noise, and bustle, and festivity. Mr and Mrs Merton and Mr Barlow were left alone with Miss Simmons and Tommy, and one or two others of the smaller gentry who had not yet returned to their friends.

As Mr Barlow was not fond of cards, Mr Merton proposed, after the tea-table was removed, that Miss Simmons, who was famous for reading well, should entertain the company with some little tale or history adapted to the comprehension even of the youngest. Miss Simmons excused herself with the greatest modesty; but on Mrs Merton's joining in the request, she instantly complied, and fetching down a book, read the following story of

"SOPHRON AND TIGRANES."

"Sophron and Tigranes were the children of two neighbouring shepherds that fed their flocks in that part of Asia which borders upon Mount Lebanon. They were accustomed to each other from earliest infancy; and the continual habit of conversing at length produced a tender and intimate friendship.

"Sophron was larger and more robust of the two; his look was firm but modest, his countenance placid, and his eyes were such as inspired confidence and attachment. He excelled most of the youth of the neighbourhood in every species of violent exercise—such as wrestling, boxing, and whirling heavyweights; but his triumphs were constantly mixed with so much humanity and courtesy, that even those who found themselves vanquished could feel no envy towards their conqueror.

"On the contrary, Tigranes was of a character totally different. His body was less strong than that of Sophron, but excellently proportioned and adapted to every species of fatigue; his countenance was full of fire, but displeased by an excess of confidence; and his eyes sparkled with sense and meaning, but bore too great an expression of uncontrolled fierceness.

"Nor were these two youths less different in the application of their faculties than in the nature of them; for Tigranes seemed to be possessed by a restless spirit of commanding all his equals, while Sophron, contented with the enjoyment of tranquillity, desired nothing more than to avoid oppression.

"Still, as they assisted their parents in leading every morning their flocks to pasture, they entertained each other with rural sports; or, while reposing under the shade of arching rocks during the heat of the day, conversed with all the ease of childish friendship. Their observations were not many; they were chiefly drawn from the objects of nature which surrounded them, or from the simple mode of life to which they had been witness; but even here the diversity of their characters was sufficiently expressed.

"'See,' said Tigranes, one day, as he cast his eyes upwards to the cliffs of a neighbouring rock, 'that eagle which riseth into the immense regions of air, till he absolutely soars beyond the reach of sight; were I a bird, I should choose to resemble him, that I might traverse the clouds with a rapidity of a whirlwind, and dart like lightning upon my prey.' 'That eagle,' answered Sophron, 'is the emblem of violence and injustice; he is the enemy of every bird, and even of every beast, that is weaker than himself; were I to choose, I should prefer the life of yonder swan, that moves so smoothly and inoffensively along the river; he is strong enough to defend himself from injury, without opposing others, and therefore he is neither feared nor insulted by other animals.'

"While Sophron was yet speaking, the eagle, who had been hovering in the air, darted suddenly down at some distance, and seizing a lamb, was bearing it away in his cruel talons; when, almost in the same instant, a shepherd, who had been watching all his motions from a neighbouring hill, let fly an arrow with so unerring an aim, that it pierced the body of the bird, and brought him headlong to the ground, writhing in the agonies of death.

"'This,' said Sophron, 'I have often heard, is the fate of ambitious people; while they are endeavouring to mount beyond their fellows they are stopped by some unforeseen misfortune.' 'For my part,' said Tigranes, 'I had rather perish in the sky than enjoy an age of life, basely chained down and grovelling upon the surface of the earth.' 'What we either may enjoy,' answered Sophron, 'is in the hand of Heaven; but may I rather creep during life than mount to commit injustice, and oppress the innocent.'

"In this manner passed the early years of the two friends. As they grew up to manhood the difference of their tempers became more visible, and gradually alienated them from each other. Tigranes began to despise the uniform labours of the shepherd and the humble occupations of the country; his sheep were neglected, and frequently wandered over the plains without a leader to guard them in the day, or bring them back at night; and the greater part of his time was employed in climbing rocks, or in traversing the forest, to seek for eagles' nests, or in piercing with his arrows the different wild animals which inhabit the woods. If he heard the horn of the hunter, or the cry of the hound, it was impossible to restrain his eagerness; he regarded neither the summer's sun nor the winter's frost while he was pursuing his game; the thickest woods, the steepest mountains, the deepest rivers, were unable to stop him in his career, and he triumphed over every danger and difficulty, with such invincible courage as made him at once an object of terror and admiration to all the youth in the neighbourhood. His friend Sophron alone beheld his exploits neither with terror nor admiration. Of all his comrades, Sophron was the only one whom Tigranes still continued to respect; for he knew that, with a gentleness of temper which scarcely anything could exasperate, he possessed the firmest courage and a degree of bodily strength which rendered that courage invincible. He affected, indeed, to despise the virtuous moderation of his friend, and ridiculed it with some of his looser comrades as an abject pusillanimity; but he felt himself humbled whenever he was in his company as before a superior being, and therefore gradually estranged himself from his society.

"Sophron, on the contrary, entertained the sincerest regard for his friend; but he knew his defects, and trembled for the consequences which the violence and ambition of his character might one day produce. Whenever Tigranes abandoned his flocks, or left his rustic tasks undone, Sophron had the goodness to supply whatever he had omitted. Such was the vigour of his constitution, that he was indefatigable in every labour, nor did he ever exert his force more willingly than in performing these voluntary duties to his absent friend. Whenever he met with Tigranes he accosted him in the gentlest manner, and endeavoured to win him back to his former habits and manners. He represented to him the injury he did his parents, and the disquietude he occasioned in their minds by thus abandoning the duties of his profession. He sometimes, but with the greatest mildness, hinted at the coldness with which Tigranes treated him, and reminded his friend of the pleasing intercourse of their childhood. But all his remonstrances were vain; Tigranes heard him at first with coolness, then with impatience or contempt, and at last avoided him altogether.

"Sophron had a lamb which he had formerly saved from the devouring jaws of a wolf, who had already bitten him in several places, and destroyed his dam. The tenderness with which this benevolent young man had nursed and fed him during his infancy, had so attached him to his master, that he seemed to prefer his society to that of his own species. Wherever Sophron went, the faithful lamb accompanied him like his dogs, lay down beside him when he reposed, and followed close behind when he drove the rest of the flock to pasture. Sophron was equally attached to his dumb companion: he often diverted himself with his innocent gambols, fed him with the choicest herbs out of his hands, and when he slept at nights the lamb was sure to repose beside him.

"It happened about this time that Tigranes, as he was one day exploring the woods, discovered the den of a she-wolf, in which she had left her young ones while she went out to search for prey. By a caprice that was natural to his temper, he chose out the largest of the whelps, carried it home to his house, and brought it up as if it had been a useful and harmless animal. While it was yet but young it was incapable of doing mischief; but as it increased in age and strength, it began to show signs of a bloody and untameable disposition, and made all the neighbouring shepherds tremble for the safety of their flocks. But as the courage and fierceness of Tigranes had now rendered him formidable to all his associates, and the violence of his temper made him impatient of all opposition, they did not speak to him on the subject; and as to his own parents, he had long learned to treat them with indifference and contempt. Sophron alone, who was not to be awed by fear, observing the just apprehensions of the neighbourhood, undertook the task of expostulating with his friend, and endeavoured to prevail upon him to part with a beast so justly odious, and which might in the end prove fatal whenever his natural rage should break out into open acts of slaughter. Tigranes heard him with a sneer of derision, and only answered, that 'if a parcel of miserable rustics diverted themselves with keeping sheep, he, who had a more elevated soul, might surely entertain a nobler animal for his diversion.' 'But should that nobler animal prove a public mischief,' coolly replied Sophron, 'you must expect that he will be treated as a public enemy.' 'Woe be to the man,' answered Tigranes, brandishing his javelin, and sternly frowning, 'that shall dare to meddle with anything that belongs to me.' Saying this, he turned his back upon Sophron, and left him with disdain.

"It was not long before the very event took place which had been so long foreseen. The wolf of Tigranes, either impelled by the accidental taste of blood, or by the natural fierceness of his own temper, fell one day upon the sheep, with such an unexpected degree of fury that he slaughtered thirty of them before it was possible to prevent him. Sophron happened at that time to be within view; he ran with amazing swiftness to the place, and found the savage bathed in blood, tearing the carcass of a lamb he had just slain. At the approach of the daring youth the wolf began to utter a dismal cry, and, quitting his prey, seemed to prepare himself for slaughter of another kind. Sophron was entirely unarmed, and the size and fury of the beast, which rushed forward to attack him, might well have excused him had he declined the combat. But he, consulting only his native courage, wrapped his shepherd's cloak around his left arm, to resist the first onset of his enemy, and, with a determined look and nimble pace, advanced towards his threatening adversary. In an instant the wolf sprang upon him, with a horrid yell; but Sophron nimbly eluded his attack, and suddenly throwing his vigorous arms about the body of his adversary, compelled him to struggle for his own safety. It was then that he uttered cries more dreadful than before; and as he writhed about in all the agitations of pain and madness, he gnashed his terrible teeth with impotent attempts to bite, while the blood and foam which issued from his jaws rendered his figure still more horrible than before. But Sophron, with undaunted courage, still maintained his hold, and grasping him with irresistible strength, prevented him from using either his teeth or claws in his own defence. It was not long before the struggles and violence of the wolf grew perceptibly weaker from fatigue, and he seemed to wish to decline a further combat with so formidable a foe, could he have found means to escape. Sophron then collected all his strength, and, seizing his fainting adversary by the neck and throat, grasped him still tighter in his terrible hands, till the beast, incapable either of disengaging himself or breathing, yielded up the contest and his life together.

"It was almost in this moment that Tigranes passed that way, and unexpectedly was witness to the triumphs of Sophron, and the miserable end of his favourite. Inflamed with pride and indignation, Tigranes uttered dreadful imprecations against his friend, who in vain attempted to explain the transaction, and rushing upon him with all the madness of inveterate hate, aimed a javelin at his bosom. Sophron was calm as he was brave; he saw the necessity of defending his own life against the attacks of a perfidious friend, and, with a nimble spring, at once eluded the weapon and closed with his antagonist. The combat was then more equal, for each was reduced to depend upon his own strength and activity. They struggled for some time with all the efforts which disappointed rage could inspire on the one side, and a virtuous indignation on the other. At length the fortune, or rather the force and coolness of Sophron, prevailed over the blind impetuous fury of Tigranes; he at once exerted his whole remaining strength, with such success that he hurled his adversary to the ground, where he lay, bleeding, vanquished, and unable to rise. 'Thou scarcely,' said Sophron, 'deservest thy life from my hands, who couldst so wantonly and unjustly attempt to deprive me of mine; however, I will rather remember thy early merits than my recent injuries.' 'No,' replied the raging Tigranes, 'load me not with thy odious benefits; but rather rid me of a life which I abhor, since thou hast robbed me of my honour.' 'I will never hurt thee,' replied Sophron, 'but in my own just defence; live to make a better use of life, and to have juster ideas of honour.' Saying this, he assisted Tigranes to rise, but finding his temper full of implacable resentment, he turned another way, and left him to go home alone.

"It was not long after this event that a company of soldiers marched across the plains where Sophron was feeding his flocks, and halted to refresh themselves under the shade of some spreading trees. The officer who commanded them was struck with the comely figure and expressive countenance of Sophron. He called the young man to him, and endeavoured to inflame him with a military ardour, by setting before him the glory which might be acquired by arms, and ridiculing the obscurity of a country life. When he thought he had sufficiently excited his admiration, he proposed to him that he should enrol himself in his company; and promised him every encouragement which he thought most likely to engage the passions of a young man. Sophron thanked him, with humility, for his offers, but told him he had an aged father, who was now become incapable of maintaining himself, and therefore that he could accept of no offers, however advantageous they might appear, which would interfere with the discharge of this duty. The officer replied, and ridiculed the scruples of the young man; but, finding him inflexible in his resolution, he at last turned from him with an air of contempt, and called his men to follow him, muttering, as he went, reflections on the stupidity and cowardice of Sophron.

"The party had not proceeded far, before, by ill fortune, they came to the place where Sophron's favourite lamb was feeding; and as the animal had not yet learned to dread the cruelty of the human species, it advanced towards them with all the confidence of unsuspicious innocence. 'This is a lucky accident,' cried one of the soldiers, with a brutal satisfaction; 'fortune was not willing we should go without a supper, and has therefore sent us a present.' 'A happy exchange,' answered a second; 'a fat sheep for a lubberly shepherd; and the coward will no doubt think himself happy to sleep in a whole skin at so small an expense.' Saying this, he took the lamb, and bore it away in triumph, uttering a thousand threats and execrations against the master if he should dare to reclaim it.

"Sophron was not so far removed to escape the sight of the indignity that was offered him. He followed the troop, with so much swiftness that it was not long before he overtook the soldier who was bearing away his friend, and from his load marched rather behind the rest. When Sophron approached him, he accosted him in the gentlest manner, and besought him, in words that might have touched any one but a savage, to restore his favourite; he even offered, when he found that nothing else would avail, to purchase back his own property with something of greater value; but the barbarous soldier, inured to scenes of misery, and little accustomed to yield to human entreaties, only laughed at his complaints, and loaded him with additional insults. At length he began to be tired with his importunities, and drawing his sword, and waving it before the eyes of Sophron, threatened, that if he did not depart immediately he would use him as he intended to do the lamb. 'And do you think,' answered Sophron, 'that while I have an arm to lift, or a drop of blood in my veins, I will suffer you, or any man, to rob me of what I value more than life?' The soldier, exasperated at such an insolent reply, as he termed it, aimed a blow at Sophron with his sword, which he turned aside with a stick he held in his hand, so that it glanced inoffensively down; and before he could recover the use of his weapon, Sophron, who was infinitely stronger, closed in with him, wrested it out of his hands, and hurled him roughly to the ground. Some of the comrades of the vanquished soldier came in an instant to his assistance, and without inquiring into the merits of the cause, drew their swords, and began to assail the undaunted young man; but he, brandishing the weapon which he had just seized, appeared ready to defend himself, with so much strength and courage that they did not choose to come too near.

"While they were thus engaged, the officer, who had turned back at the first noise of the fray, approached, and ordering his men to desist, inquired into the occasion of the contest. Sophron then recounted, with so much modesty and respect, the indignities and insults he had received, and the unprovoked attack of the soldier, which had obliged him to defend his own life, that the officer, who had a real respect for courage, was charmed with the behaviour of the young man. He therefore reproved his men for their disorderly manners, praised the intrepidity of Sophron, and ordered his lamb to be restored to him, with which he joyfully departed.

"Sophron was scarcely out of sight, when Tigranes, who was then by accident returning from the chase, met the same party upon their march. Their military attire and glittering arms instantly struck his mind with admiration. He stopped to gaze upon them as they passed; and the officer, who remarked the martial air and well-proportioned limbs of Tigranes, entered into conversation with him, and made him the same proposals which he had before done to Sophron. Such incentives were irresistible to a vain and ambitious mind; the young man in an instant forgot his friends, his country, and his parents, and marched away with all the pleasure that strong presumption and aspiring hopes could raise. Nor was it long before he had an opportunity of signalizing his intrepidity.

"Asia was at that time overrun by numerous bands of savage warriors, under different and independent chiefs. That country, which has in every age been celebrated for the mildness of the climate and the fertility of the soil, seems to be destined to groan under all the horrors of eternal servitude. Whether these effects are merely produced by fortune, or whether the natural advantages it enjoys have a necessary tendency to soften the minds of the inhabitants to sloth and effeminacy, it is certain that the people of Asia have, in general, been the unresisting prey of every invader. At this time several fierce and barbarous nations had broken in upon its territory, and, after covering its fertile plains with carnage and desolation, were contending with each other for the superiority.

"Under the most enterprising of these rival chiefs was Tigranes now enrolled; and in the very first engagement at which he was present, he gave such uncommon proofs of valour, that he was distinguished by the general with marks of particular regard, and became the admiration of all his comrades. Under the banners of this adventurous warrior did Tigranes toil with various fortunes during the space of many years; sometimes victorious in the fight, sometimes baffled; at one time crowned with conquest and glory, at another beset with dangers, covered with wounds, and hunted like a wild beast through rocks and forests; yet still the native courage of his temper sustained his spirits, and kept him firm in the profession which he had chosen. At length, in a decisive battle, in which the chieftain, under whom Tigranes had enlisted, contended with the most powerful of his rivals, he had the honour of retrieving the victory when his own party seemed totally routed; and, after having penetrated the thickest squadrons of the enemy, to kill their general with his own hand. From this moment he seemed to be in possession of all that his ambition could desire. He was appointed general of all the troops under the chief himself, whose repeated victories had rendered him equal in power to the most celebrated monarchs. Nor did his fortune stop even here; for, after a number of successive battles, in which his party were generally victorious by his experience and intrepidity, he was, on the unexpected death of the chief, unanimously chosen by the whole nation to succeed him.

"In the mean time Sophron, free from envy, avarice, or ambition, pursued the natural impulse of his character, and contented himself with a life of virtuous obscurity; he passed his time in rural labours, in watching his flocks, and in attending with all the duty of an affectionate child upon his aged parents. Every morning he rose with the sun, and spreading his innocent arms to heaven, thanked that Being who created all nature for the continuance of life and health, and all the blessings he enjoyed. His piety and virtue were rewarded with everything which a temperate and rational mind can ask. All his rural labours succeeded in the most ample manner; his flock was the fairest, the most healthy and numerous of the district; he was loved and esteemed by the youth of the neighbourhood, and equally respected by the aged, who pointed him out as the example of every virtue to their families; but, what was more dear than all the rest to such a mind as Sophron's, was to see himself the joy, the comfort, and support of his parents, who frequently embraced him with tears, and supplicated the Deity to reward such duty and affection with all His choicest blessings.

"Nor was his humanity confined to his own species; the innocent inhabitants of the forest were safe from the pursuit of Sophron; and all that lived under his protection were sure to meet with distinguished tenderness. 'It is enough,' said Sophron, 'that the innocent sheep supplies me with his fleece to form my winter garments, and defend me from the cold; I will not bereave him of his little life, nor stop his harmless gambols on the green, to gratify a guilty sensuality. It is surely enough that the stately heifer affords me copious streams of pure and wholesome food; I will not arm my hand against her innocent existence; I will not pollute myself with her blood, nor tear her warm and panting flesh with a cruelty that we abhor even in savage beasts. More wholesome, more adapted to human life, are the spontaneous fruits which liberal nature produces for the sustenance of man, or which the earth affords to recompense his labours.'"

Here the interest and concern which had been long visible in Tommy's face, could no longer be repressed, and tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "What is the matter, my darling?" said his mother: "what is there in the account of this young man so deeply interests and affects you?" "Alas! mamma," said Tommy, "it reminds of poor Harry Sandford; just such another good young man will he be when he is as old as Sophron; and I—and I," added he, sobbing, "am just such another worthless, ungrateful wretch as Tigranes." "But Tigranes," said Mrs Merton, "you see, became a great and powerful man; while Sophron remained only a poor and ignorant shepherd." "What does that signify, mamma?" said Tommy: "for my part, I begin to find that it is not always the greatest people that are the best or happiest; and as to ignorance, I cannot think that Sophron, who understood his duty so well to his parents and to God, and to all the world, could be called ignorant; and very likely he could read and write better than Tigranes, in spite of all his pomp and grandeur; for I am sure there is not one of the young gentlemen that went home to-day can read as well as Harry Sandford, or has half his understanding." Mr Merton could hardly help smiling at Tommy's conjecture about Sophron's reading; but he felt the greatest pleasure at seeing such a change in his sentiments; and, looking at him with more cordiality than he had done before, he told him that he was very happy to find him so sensible of his faults, and hoped he would be equally ready to amend them.

Miss Simmons then continued her narrative.

"If Sophron ever permitted himself to shed the blood of living creatures, it was those ferocious animals that wage continual war with every other species. Amid the mountains which he inhabited, there were rugged cliffs and inaccessible caverns, which afforded retreat to wolves, and bears, and tigers. Sometimes, amid the storms and snows of winter, they felt themselves pinched by hunger, and fell with irresistible fury upon the nearest flocks and herds. Not only sheep and oxen were slaughtered in these dreadful and unexpected attacks, but even the shepherds themselves were frequently the victims of their rage. If there was time to assemble for their defence, the boldest of the youth would frequently seize their arms and give battle to the invaders. In this warfare, which was equally just and honourable, Sophron was always foremost; his unequalled strength and courage made all the youth adopt him as their leader, and march with confidence under his command; and so successful were his expeditions, that he always returned loaded with the skins of vanquished enemies; and by his vigilance and intrepidity he at length either killed or drove away most of the beasts from which any danger was to be feared.

"It happened one day that Sophron had been chasing a wolf which had made some depredations upon the flocks, and, in the ardour of his pursuits, was separated from all his companions. He was too well acquainted with the roughest parts of the neighbouring mountains, and too indifferent to danger, to be disturbed at this circumstance; he therefore followed his flying foe with so much impetuosity that he completely lost every track and mark with which he was acquainted. As it is difficult, in a wild and uncultivated district, to find the path again when once it is lost, Sophron only wandered the farther from his home the more he endeavoured to return. He found himself bewildered and entangled in a dreary wilderness, where he was every instant stopped by torrents that tumbled from the neighbouring cliffs, or in danger of slipping down the precipices of an immense height. He was alone in the midst of a gloomy forest, where human industry had never penetrated, nor the woodman's axe been heard since the moment of its creation; to add to his distress, the setting sun disappeared in the west, and the shades of night gathered gradually round, accompanied with the roar of savage beasts. Sophron found himself beset with terrors, but his soul was incapable of fear; he poised his javelin in his hand, and forced his way through every opposition, till at length, with infinite difficulty, he disengaged himself from the forest just as the last glimmer of light was yet visible in the skies. But it was in vain that he had thus escaped; he cast his eyes around, but could discern nothing but an immense tract of country, rough with rocks, and overhung with forests, but destitute of every mark of cultivation or inhabitants; he, however, pursued his way along the side of the mountain till he descended into a pleasant valley, free from trees, and watered by a winding stream. Here he was going to repose for the remainder of the night, under the crag of an impending rock, when a rising gleam of light darted suddenly into the skies from a considerable distance, and attracted his curiosity. Sophron looked towards the quarter whence it came, and plainly discerned that it was a fire kindled either by some benighted traveller like himself, or by some less innocent wanderers of the dark. He determined to approach the light, but knowing the unsettled state of all the neighbouring districts, he thought it prudent to advance with caution; he therefore made a considerable circuit, and by clambering along the higher grounds discovered a hanging wood, under whose thick covert he approached without being discovered, within a little distance of the fire. He then perceived that a party of soldiers were reposing round a flaming pile of wood, and carousing at their ease; all about was strewn the plunder which they had accumulated in their march, and in the midst was seated a venerable old man, accompanied by a beautiful young woman.

"Sophron easily comprehended, by the dejection of their countenances, and the tears which trickled down the maiden's cheeks, as well as by the insolence with which they were treated, that they were prisoners. The virtuous indignation of his temper was instantly excited, and he determined to attempt their deliverance; but this, in spite of all his intrepidity, he perceived was no easy matter to accomplish; he was alone, and weakly armed; his enemies, though not numerous, too many for him to flatter himself with any rational hope of success by open force; and, should he make a fruitless effort, he might rashly throw his life away, and only aggravate the distresses he sought to cure. With this consideration he restrained his natural impetuosity, and at length determined to attempt by stratagem what he thought could scarcely be performed by force. He therefore silently withdrew, and skirted the side of the wood which had concealed him, carefully remarking every circumstance of the way, till he had ascended a mountain which immediately fronted the camp of the soldiers, at no considerable distance. He happened to have by his side a kind of battle-axe which they use in the chase of bears; with this he applied himself to lopping the branches of trees, collecting at the same time all the fallen ones he could find, till, in a short time, he had reared several piles of wood upon the most conspicuous part of the mountain, and full in view of the soldiers. He then easily kindled a blaze by rubbing two decayed branches together, and in an instant all the piles were blazing with so many streams of light, that the neighbouring hills and forests were illuminated with the gleam. Sophron knew the nature of man, always prone to sudden impressions of fear and terror, more particularly amid the obscurity of the night, and promised himself the amplest success from his stratagem.

"In the meantime he hastened back with all the speed he could use, till he reached the very wood where he had lurked before; he then raised his voice, which was naturally loud and clear, and shouted several times successively with all his exertion. A hundred echoes from the neighbouring cliffs and caverns returned the sound, with a reverberation that made it appear like the noise of a mighty squadron. The soldiers, who had been alarmed by the sudden blaze of so many fires, which they attributed to a numerous band of troops, were now impressed with such a panic that they fled in confusion; they imagined themselves surrounded by their enemies, who were bursting in on every side, and fled with so much precipitation that they were dispersed in an instant, and left the prisoners to themselves.

"Sophron, who saw from a little distance all their motions, did not wait for them to be undeceived, but running to the spot they had abandoned, explained in a few words to the trembling and amazed captives the nature of his stratagem, and exhorted them to fly with all the swiftness they were able to exert. Few entreaties were necessary to prevail upon them to comply; they therefore arose and followed Sophron, who led them a considerable way up into the mountains, and when he thought them out of the immediate danger of pursuit, they sheltered themselves in a rocky cavern, and determined there to wait for the light of the morning.

"When they were thus in a place of safety, the venerable old man seized the hand of Sophron, and bedewing it with tears, gave way to the strong emotions of gratitude which overwhelmed his mind. 'Generous youth,' said he, 'I know not by what extraordinary fortune you have thus been able to effect our deliverance, when we imagined ourselves out of the reach of human succour; but if the uniform gratitude and affection of two human beings, who perhaps are not entirely unworthy your regard, can be any recompense for such a distinguished act of virtue, you may command our lives, and employ them in your service.'

"'Father,' answered Sophron, 'you infinitely over-rate the merits of the service which chance has enabled me to perform. I am but little acquainted with my fellow-creatures, as having always inhabited these mountains; but I cannot conceive that any other man, who had been witness to your distress, would have refused to attempt your rescue; and as to all the rest, the obscurity of the night, and peculiarity of the situation, rendered it a work of little difficulty or danger.' Sophron then recounted to his new friends the accident which had brought him to that unfrequented spot, and made him an unperceived witness of their captivity; he also explained the nature of the stratagem by which, alone and unsupported, he had been enabled to disperse their enemies. He added that, 'if he appeared to have any little merit in their eyes, he should be amply recompensed by being admitted to their friendship and confidence.'

"With these mutual professions of esteem they thought it prudent to terminate a conversation, which, however agreeable, was not entirely free from danger, as some of their late oppressors might happen to distinguish their voices, and thus directed to their lurking place, exact a severe revenge for the terrors they had undergone.

"With the first ray of morning the three companions arose, and Sophron, leading them along the skirts of the mountains where bushes and brushwood concealed them from observation, and still following the windings of a river as a guide, they at length came to a cultivated spot, though deserted by its inhabitants from the fear of the party they had lately escaped. Here they made a slight and hasty repast upon some coarse provisions which they found, and instantly struck again into the woods, which they judged safer than the plain. But Sophron fortunately recollected that he had formerly visited this village with his father, while yet a child, and before the country had suffered the rage of barbarous invasions. It was a long day's march from home, but, by exerting all their strength, they at length arrived, through rough and secret paths, at the hospitable cottage where Sophron and his parents dwelt. Here they were joyfully received, as the long absence of the young man had much alarmed his parents, and made all the hamlet anxious concerning his safety. That night they comfortably reposed in a place of safety, and the next morning, after a plentiful but coarse repast, the father of Sophron again congratulated his guests upon their fortunate escape, and entreated them to let him hear the history of their misfortunes.

"'I can refuse nothing,' said the venerable stranger, 'to persons to whom I am under such extraordinary obligations, although the history of my life is short and simple, and contains little worthy to be recited. My name is Chares; and I was born in one of the maritime cities of Asia, of opulent parents, who died while I was yet a youth. The loss of my parents, to whom I was most affectionately attached, made so strong an impression upon my mind that I determined to seek relief in travel, and for that purpose sold my paternal estate, the price of which I converted into money and jewels, as being most portable. My father had been a man distinguished for his knowledge and abilities, and from him I imbibed an early desire of improvement, which has always been my greatest comfort and support.

"'The first place, therefore, which I visited was Egypt, a country renowned in every age for its invention of all the arts which contribute to support or adorn human life. There I resided several years, giving up my time to the study of philosophy, and to the conversation of the many eminent men who resorted thither from all the regions of the world. This country is one immense plain, divided by the Nile, which is one of the noblest rivers in the world, and pours its tide along the middle of its territory. Every year, at a particular season, the stream begins gradually to swell with such an increase of waters, that at length it rises over its banks, and the whole extent of Egypt becomes an immense lake, where buildings, temples, and cities appear as floating upon the inundation. Nor is this event a subject of dread to the inhabitants; on the contrary, the overflowing of their river is a day of public rejoicing to all the natives, which they celebrate with songs and dances, and every symptom of extravagant joy. Nor is this to be wondered at, when you are informed that this inundation renders the soil which it covers the most abundant in the world. Whatever land is covered by the waters, receives such an increase of fertility, as never to disappoint the hopes of the industrious husbandman. The instant the waters have retired the farmer returns to his fields and begins the operation of agriculture. These labours are not very difficult in a soft and yielding slime, such as the river leaves behind it. The seeds are sown, and vegetate with inconceivable rapidity, and, in a few weeks, an abundant harvest of every kind of grain covers the land. For this reason all the necessaries of life are easily procured by the innumerable multitudes which inhabit the country. Nor is the climate less favourable than the soil; for here an eternal spring and summer seem to have fixed their abode. No frost nor snow is ever known to chill the atmosphere, which is always perfumed with the smell of aromatic plants that grow on every side, and bring on a pleasing forgetfulness of human care. But, alas! these blessings, great as they may appear, produce the effect of curses upon the inhabitants. The ease and plenty which they enjoy, enervate their manners, and destroy all vigour both of body and mind. No one here is inflamed with the sacred love of his country, or of public liberty; no one is inured to arms, or taught to prefer his honour to his life;—the great business of existence is an inglorious indolence, a lethargy of mind, and a continual suspense from all exertion. The very children catch the contagion from their parents; they are instructed in every effeminate art—to dance in soft unmanly attitudes; to modulate their voices by musical instruments, and to adjust the floating drapery of their dress. These are the arts in which both sexes are instructed from their infancy; but no one is taught to wield the arms of men, to tame the noble steeds in which the country abounds, to observe his rank in war, or to bear the indispensable hardships of a military life. Hence this celebrated country, which has been in every age the admiration of mankind, is destined to the most degrading servitude. A few thousand disciplined troops are sufficient to hold the many millions it contains in bondage, under which they groan, without ever conceiving the design of vindicating their natural rights by arms.'——

"'Unhappy people,' exclaimed Sophron, 'how useless to them are all the blessings of their climate! How much rather would I inhabit the stormy top of Lebanon, amid eternal snows and barrenness, than wallow in the vile sensuality of such a country, or breathe an air infected by its vices!'

"Chares was charmed with the generous indignation of Sophron, and thus continued: 'I was of the same opinion with yourself, and therefore determined to leave a country which all its natural advantages could not render agreeable, when I became acquainted with the manners of its inhabitants. But before I quitted that part of the globe, my curiosity led me to visit the neighbouring tribes of Arabia—a nation bordering upon the Egyptians, but as different in spirits and manners as the hardy shepherds of these mountains from the effeminate natives of the plains. Egypt is bounded on one side by the sea; on every other it is surrounded by immense plains or gentle eminences, which, being beyond the fertilizing inundations of the Nile, have been, beyond all memory, converted into waste and barren sands by the excessive heat of the sun. I therefore made preparations for my journey, and hired a guide, who was to furnish me with beasts of burden, and accompany me across those dreary deserts. We accordingly began our march, mounted upon camels, which are found much more useful than horses in such a burning climate.'"——

"Indeed," said Tommy here to Mr Barlow, "I am sorry to interrupt the story; but I shall be much obliged to you, sir, if you will inform me what kind of an animal a camel is?"

"The camel," answered Mr Barlow, "is chiefly found in those burning climates which you have heard described. His height is very great, rising to fourteen or fifteen feet, reckoning to the top of his head; his legs are long and slender, his body not large, and his neck of an amazing length. This animal is found in no part of the world that we are acquainted with, wild or free; but the whole race is enslaved by man, and brought up to drudgery from the first moment of their existence. As soon as he is born, they seize him, and force him to recline upon the ground, with his legs doubled up under his belly. To keep him in this attitude, they extend a piece of canvass over his body, and fix it to the ground by laying heavy weights upon the edge. In this manner he is tutored to obedience, and taught to kneel down at the orders of his master, and receive the burthens which he is destined to transport. In his temper he is gentle and tractable, and his patience in bearing thirst and hunger is superior to that of any animal we are acquainted with. He is driven across the burning desert, loaded with the merchandise of those countries, and frequently does not even find water to quench his thirst for several days. As to his food, it is nothing but a few herbs, which are found in the least barren parts of the deserts, and prickly bushes, upon which he browses as a delicacy; sometimes he does not find even these for many days, yet pursues his journey with a degree of patience which is hardly credible."

"'—We mounted our camels,' continued Chares, 'and soon had reached the confines of the fertile plains of Egypt. The way, as we proceeded, grew sensibly more dreary and disagreeable, yet was sometimes varied with little tufts of trees and scanty patches of herbage; but these at length entirely disappeared, and nothing was seen on every side but an immense extent of barren sands, destitute of vegetation, and parched by the continual heat of the sun. No sound was heard to interrupt the dreary silence that reigned around; no traces of inhabitants perceivable, and the gloomy uniformity of the prospect inspired the soul with melancholy. In the meantime the sun seemed to shoot down perpendicular rays upon our heads, without a cloud to mitigate his violence. I felt a burning fever take possession of my body. My tongue was scorched with intolerable heat, and it was in vain I endeavoured to moisten my mouth with repeated draughts of water. At night we came to a little rising ground, at the foot of which we perceived some aquatic herbs and a small quantity of muddy water, of which our camels took prodigious draughts; here we spread our tents and encamped for the night. With the morning we pursued our journey; but had not proceeded far before we saw a cloud of dust that seemed to rise along the desert; and as we approached nearer, we easily distinguished the glitter of arms that reflected the rising sun. This was a band of the Arabians that had discovered us, and came to know our intentions. As they advanced they spurred their horses, which are the most fleet and excellent in the world, and bounded along the desert with the lightness of an antelope; at the same time they brandished their lances, and seemed prepared alike for war or peace; but when they saw that we had neither the intention nor the power to commit hostilities, they stopped their coursers at the distance of a few paces from us, and he that appeared the chief advanced, and, with a firm but mild tone of voice, inquired into the reason of our coming. It was then that I took the liberty of addressing him in his own language, to which I had for some time applied myself before my journey. I explained to him my curiosity, which led me to observe in person the manners of a people who are celebrated over the whole world for having preserved their native simplicity unaltered, and their liberty unviolated, amidst the revolutions which agitate all the neighbouring nations. I then offered him the loading of my camel, which I had brought, not as being worthy his acceptance, but as a slight testimony of my regard, and concluded with remarking, that the fidelity of the Arabians in observing their engagements was unimpeached in a single instance; and therefore, relying upon the integrity of my own intentions, I had come a painful journey, unarmed, and almost alone, to put myself into their power, and demand the sacred rights of hospitality.

"'While I was thus speaking, he looked at me with penetration that seemed to read into my very soul; and, when I had finished, he extended his arm with a smile of benevolence, and welcomed me to their tribe, telling me, at the same time, that they admitted me as their guest, and received me with the arms of friendship; that their method of life, like their manners, was coarse and simple, but that I might consider myself as safer in their tents, and more removed from violence or treachery, than in the crowded cities which I had left. The rest of the squadron then approached, and all saluted me as a friend and brother. We then struck off across the desert, and, after a few hours' march, approached the encampment where they had left their wives and children.

"'This people is the most singular, and, in many respects, the most admirable of all that inhabit this globe of earth. All other nations are subject to revolutions and the various turns of fortune; sometimes they wage successful wars; sometimes they improve in the arts of peace; now they are great and reverenced by their neighbours; and now, insulted and despised, they suffer all the miseries of servitude. The Arabians alone have never been known to vary in the smallest circumstance, either of their internal policy or external situation. They inhabit a climate which would be intolerable to the rest of the human species for its burning heat, and a soil which refuses to furnish any of the necessaries of life. Hence they neither plough the earth, nor sow, nor depend upon corn for their subsistence, nor are acquainted with any of the mechanic arts; they live chiefly upon the milk of their herds and flocks, and sometimes eat their flesh. These burning deserts are stretched out to an immense extent on every side, and these they consider as their common country, without having any fixed or permanent abode. Arid and barren as are these wilds in general, there are various spots which are more productive than the rest; here are found supplies of water, and some appearances of vegetation; and here the Arabians encamp till they have exhausted the spontaneous products of the soil. Besides, they vary their place of residence with the different seasons of the year. When they are in perfect friendship with their neighbours, they advance to the very edges of the desert, and find more ample supplies of moisture and herbage. If they are attacked or molested, the whole tribe is in motion in an instant, and seeks a refuge in their impenetrable recesses. Other nations are involved in various pursuits of war, or government, or commerce; they have made a thousand inventions of luxury necessary to their welfare, and the enjoyment of these they call happiness. The Arab is ignorant of all these things, or, if he knows them, he despises their possession. All his wants, his passions, his desires, terminate in one object, and that object is the preservation of his liberty. For this purpose he contents himself with a bare sufficiency of the coarsest and simplest food; and the small quantity of clothing which he requires in such a climate, is fabricated by the women of the tribe, who milk the cattle and prepare the food of their husbands, and require no other pleasures than the pleasing interest of domestic cares. They have a breed of horses superior to any in the rest of the globe for gentleness, patience, and unrivalled swiftness; this is a particular passion and pride of the Arabian tribes. These horses are necessary to them in their warlike expeditions, and in their courses along the deserts. If they are attacked, they mount their steeds, who bear them with the rapidity of a tempest to avenge their injuries; or, should they be overmatched in fight, they soon transport them beyond the possibility of pursuit. For this reason the proudest monarchs and greatest conquerors have in vain attempted to subdue them. Troops accustomed to the plenty of a cultivated country, are little able to pursue these winged warriors over the whole extent of their sandy wastes. Oppressed with heat, fainting for want of water, and spent with the various difficulties of the way, the most numerous armies have been destroyed in such attempts; and those that survived the obstacles of nature were easily overcome by the repeated attacks of the valiant natives.

"'While I was in this country I was myself witness to an embassy that was sent from the neighbouring prince, who imagined that the fame of his exploits had struck the Arabians with terror, and disposed them to submission. The ambassador was introduced to the chief of the tribe, a venerable old man, undistinguished by any mark of ostentation from the rest, who received him sitting cross-legged at the door of his tent. He then began to speak, and, in a long and studied harangue, described the power of his master, the invincible courage of his armies, the vast profusion of arms, of warlike engines, and military stores, and concluded with a demand that the Arabians should submit to acknowledge him as their lord, and pay a yearly tribute.

"'At this proud speech the younger part of the tribe began to frown with indignation, and clash their weapons in token of defiance; but the chief himself, with a calm and manly composure, made this reply: 'I expected, from the maturity of your age, and the gravity of your countenance, to have heard a rational discourse, befitting you to propose and us to hear. When you dwelt so long upon the power of your master, I also imagined that he had sent to us to propose a league of friendship and alliance, such as might become equals, and bind man more closely to his fellows. In this case the Arabians, although they neither want the assistance, nor fear the attacks of any king or nation, would gladly have consented, because it has been always their favourite maxim, neither to leave injuries unpunished, nor to be outdone in kindness and hospitality. But since you have come thus far to deliver a message which must needs be disagreeable to the ears of free-born men, who acknowledge no superior upon earth, you may thus report the sentiments of the Arabians to him that sent you. You may tell him that, as to the land which we inhabit, it is neither the gift of him nor any of his forefathers; we hold it from our ancestors, who received it in turn from theirs, by the common laws of nature, which has adapted particular countries and soils, not only to man, but to all the various animals which she has produced. If, therefore, your king imagines that he has a right to retain the country which he and his people now inhabit, by the same tenure do the Arabians hold the sovereignty of these barren sands, where the bones of our ancestors have been buried, even from the first foundation of the world. But you have described to us, in pompous language, the extraordinary power and riches of your king; according to you, he not only commands numerous and well-appointed troops of warlike men, furnished with every species of military stores, but he also possesses immense heaps of gold, silver, and other precious commodities, and his country affords him an inexhaustible supply of corn, and oil, and wine, and all the other conveniences of life. If, therefore, these representations be false, you must appear a vain and despicable babbler, who, being induced by no sufficient reason, have come hither of your own accord to amuse us—a plain and simple race of men—with specious tales and fables; but, if your words be true, your king must be equally unjust and foolish, who, already possessing all these advantages, doth still insatiably grasp after more; and, enjoying so many good things with ease and security to himself, will rather put them to all the hazard than repress the vain desires of his own intolerable avarice. As to the tribute which you have demanded, what you have already seen of the Arabians and their country affords you a sufficient answer. You see that we have neither cities, nor fields, nor rivers, nor wine, nor oil; gold and silver are equally unknown among us; and the Arabians, abandoning all these things to other men, have, at the same time, delivered themselves from the necessity of being slaves, which is the general law by which all mortals retain their possession. We have, therefore, nothing which we can send as a tribute but the sand of these our deserts, and the arrows and lances with which we have hitherto defended them from all invaders. If these are treasures worthy of his acceptance, he may lead his conquering troops to take possession of our country. But he will find men who are not softened by luxury, or vanquished by their own vices; men who prize their liberty at a dearer rate than all other mortals do their riches or their lives, and to whom dishonour is more formidable than wounds and death. If he can vanquish such men, it will, however, become his prudence to reflect whether he can vanquish the obstacles which nature herself has opposed to his ambition. If he should attempt to pass our deserts, he will have to struggle with famine and consuming thirst, from which no enemy has hitherto escaped, even when he has failed to perish by the arrows of the Arabians.''——

"'Happy and generous people,' exclaimed Sophron, 'how well do they deserve the liberty they enjoy! With such sentiments they need not fear the attack of kings or conquerors. It is the vices of men, and not the weakness of their nature, that basely enslave them to their equals; and he that prizes liberty beyond a few contemptible pleasures of his senses may be certain that no human force can ever bereave him of so great a good.'

"'Such sentiments,' replied Chares, 'convince me that I have not made a false estimate of the inhabitants of these mountainous districts. It is for this reason that I have been so particular in the description of Egypt and Arabia. I wished to know whether the general spirit of indolence and pusillanimity had infected the hardy inhabitants of Lebanon; but from the generous enthusiasm which animates your countenance at the recital of noble actions, as well as from what I have experienced you are capable of attempting, I trust that these solitary scenes are uninfected with the vices that have deluged the rest of Asia, and bent its inhabitants to the yoke'"——

Here the impatience of Tommy, which had been increasing a considerable time, could no longer be restrained, and he could not help interrupting the story, by addressing Mr Barlow thus: "Sir, will you give me leave to ask you a question?"

Mr Barlow.—As many as you choose.

Tommy.—In all these stories which I have heard, it seems as if those nations that have little or nothing are more good-natured, and better and braver than those that have a great deal.

Mr Barlow.—This is indeed sometimes the case.

Tommy.—But, then, why should it not be the case here, as well as in other places? Are all the poor in this country better than the rich?

"It should seem," answered Mr Barlow, smiling, "as if you were of that opinion."

Tommy.—Why so, sir?

Mr Barlow.—Because, whatever you want to have done, I observe that you always address yourself to the poor, and not to the rich.

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but that is a different case. The poor are used to do many things which the rich never do.

Mr Barlow.—Are these things useful or not useful?

Tommy.—Why, to be sure, many of them are extremely useful; for, since I have acquired so much knowledge, I find they cultivate the ground, to raise corn; and build houses; and hammer iron, which is so necessary to make everything we use; besides feeding cattle, and dressing our victuals, and washing our clothes, and, in short, doing everything which is necessary to be done.

Mr Barlow.—What! do the poor do all these things?

Tommy.—Yes, indeed, or else they never would be done. For it would be a very ungenteel thing to labour at a forge like a blacksmith, or hold the plough like the farmer, or build a house like a bricklayer.

Mr Barlow.—And did not you build a house in my garden some little time ago?

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but that was only for my amusement; it was not intended for anybody to live in.

Mr Barlow.—So you still think it is the first qualification of a gentleman never to do anything useful; and he that does anything with that design, ceases to be a gentleman?

Tommy looked a little ashamed at this; but he said it was not so much his own opinion as that of the other young ladies and gentlemen with whom he had conversed.

"But," replied Mr Barlow, "you asked just now which were the best—the rich or the poor? But if the poor provide food and clothing, and houses, and everything else, not only for themselves but for all the rich, while the rich do nothing at all, it must appear that the poor are better than the rich."

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but then the poor do not act in that manner out of kindness, but because they are obliged to it.

Mr Barlow.—That, indeed, is a better argument than you sometimes use. But tell me which set of people would you prefer; those that are always doing useful things because they are obliged to it, or those who never do anything useful at all?

Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I hardly know what to say; but, when I asked the question, I did not so much mean the doing useful things. But now I think of it, the rich do a great deal of good by buying the things of the poor, and giving them money in return.

Mr Barlow.—What is money?

Tommy.—Money, sir; money is——I believe, little pieces of silver and gold, with a head upon them.

Mr Barlow.—And what is the use of those little pieces of silver and gold?

Tommy.—Indeed, I do not know that they are of any use; but everybody has agreed to take them; and therefore you may buy with them whatever you want.

Mr Barlow.—Then, according to your last account, the goodness of the rich consists in taking from the poor houses, clothes, and food, and giving them in return little bits of silver and gold, which are really good for nothing.

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but then the poor can take these pieces of money and purchase everything which they want.

Mr Barlow.—You mean, that if a poor man has money in his pocket, he can always exchange it for clothes, or food, or any other necessary?

Tommy.—Indeed, I do, sir.

Mr Barlow.—But whom must he buy them of? for according to your account, the rich never produce any of these things; therefore the poor, if they want to purchase them, can only do so of each other.

Tommy.—But, sir, I cannot think that is always the case; for I have been along with my mamma to shops, where there were fine powdered gentlemen and ladies that sold things to other people, and livery-servants, and young ladies that played on the harpsichord, like Miss Matilda.

Mr Barlow.—But, my good little friend, do you imagine that these fine powdered gentlemen and ladies made the things which they sold?

Tommy.—That, sir, I cannot tell, but I should rather imagine not; for all the fine people I have ever seen are too much afraid of spoiling their clothes to work.

Mr Barlow.—All that they do, then, is to employ poorer persons to work for them, while they only sell what is produced by their labour. So that still you see we reach no farther than this; the rich do nothing and produce nothing, and the poor everything that is really useful. Were there a whole nation of rich people, they would all be starved, like the Spaniard in the story, because no one would condescend to produce anything; and this would happen in spite of all their money, unless they had neighbours who were poorer to supply them. But a nation that was poor might be industrious, and gradually supply themselves with all they wanted; and then it would be of little consequence whether they had pieces of metal with heads upon them or not. But this conversation has lasted long enough at present; and, as you are now going to bed, I daresay Miss Simmons will be so good as to defer the remainder of her story until to-morrow.

The next day Tommy rose before his father and mother; and, as his imagination had been forcibly acted on by the description he had heard of the Arabian horsemen, he desired his little horse might be saddled, and that William, his father's man, would attend him upon a ride. Unfortunately for Tommy, his vivacity was greater than his reason, and his taste for imitation was continually leading him into some mischief or misfortune. He had no sooner been introduced into the acquaintance of genteel life, than he threw aside all his former habits, and longed to distinguish himself as a most accomplished young gentleman. He was now, in turn, sickened and disgusted with fashionable affectation; and his mind, at leisure for fresh impressions, was ready to catch at the first new object which occurred. The idea, therefore, which presented itself to his mind, as soon as he opened his eyes, was that of being an Arabian horseman. Nothing, he imagined, could equal the pleasure of guiding a fiery steed over those immense and desolate wastes which he had heard described. In the meantime, as the country where he wished to exhibit was at too great a distance, he thought he might excite some applause even upon the common before his father's house.

Full of this idea he rose, put on his boots, and summoned William to attend him. William had been too much accustomed to humour all his caprices to make any difficulty of obeying him; and as he had often ridden out with his young master before, he did not foresee the least possible inconvenience. But the maternal care of Mrs Merton had made it an indispensable condition with her son, that he should never presume to ride with spurs; and she had strictly enjoined all the servants never to supply him with those dangerous accoutrements. Tommy had long murmured in secret at this prohibition, which seemed to imply a distrust of his abilities in horsemanship, which sensibly wounded his pride. But since he had taken it into his head to emulate the Arabs themselves, and perhaps excel them in their own art, he considered it as no longer possible to endure the disgrace. But, as he was no stranger to the strict injunction which had been given to all the servants, he did not dare to make the experiment of soliciting their assistance.

While he was in this embarrassment a new and sudden expedient presented itself to his fertile genius, which he instantly resolved to adopt. Tommy went to his mamma's maid, and without difficulty, obtained from her a couple of the largest-sized pins, which he thrust through the leather of his boots, and, thus accoutred, he mounted his horse without suspicion or observation.

Tommy had not ridden far before he began to give vent to his reigning passion, and asked William if he had ever seen an Arabian on horseback. The answer of William sufficiently proved his ignorance, which Tommy kindly undertook to remove by giving him a detail of all the particulars he had heard the preceding night; but, unfortunately, the eloquence of Tommy precipitated him into a dangerous experiment; for, just as he was describing their rapid flight across the deserts, the interest of his subject so transported him that he closed his legs upon his little horse, and pricked him in so sensible a manner, that the pony, who was not deficient in spirit, resented the attack, and set off with him at a prodigious rate.

William, when he saw his master thus burst forth, was at a loss whether to consider it an accident or only an oratorical grace; but seeing the horse hurrying along the roughest part of the common, while Tommy tugged in vain to restrain his efforts, he thought it necessary to endeavour to overtake him, and therefore pursued him with all the speed he could use. But the pony, whose blood seemed to be only the more inflamed by the violence of his own exertions, ran the faster when he heard the trampling of another horse behind him.

In this manner did Tommy scamper over the common, while William pursued in vain; for, just as the servant thought he had reached his master, his horse would push forward with such rapidity as left his pursuer far behind. Tommy kept his seat with infinite address; but he now began seriously to repent of his own ungovernable ambition, and would, with the greatest pleasure, have exchanged his own spirited steed for the dullest ass in England.

The race had now endured a considerable time, and seemed to be no nearer to a conclusion, when, on a sudden, the pony turned short, upon an attempt of his master to stop him, and rushed precipitately into a large bog or quagmire, which was full before him; here he made him a momentary halt, and Tommy wisely embraced the opportunity of letting himself slide off upon a soft and yielding bed of mire. The servant now came up to Tommy and rescued him from his disagreeable situation, where, however, he had received no other damage than that of daubing himself all over.

William had been at first very much frightened at the danger of his master; but when he saw that he had so luckily escaped all hurt, he could not help asking him, with a smile, whether this too was a stroke of Arabian horsemanship? Tommy was a little provoked at this reflection upon his horsemanship; but, as he had now lost something of his irritability by repeated mortification, he wisely repressed his passion, and desired William to catch his horse, while he returned homewards on foot to warm himself. The servant, therefore, endeavoured to approach the pony, who, as if contented with the triumph he had obtained over his rider, was quietly feeding at a little distance; but the instant William approached, he set off again at a violent rate, and seemed disposed to lead him a second chase not inferior to the first.

In the meantime Tommy walked pensively along the common, reflecting on the various accidents which had befallen him, and the repeated disappointments he had found in all his attempts to distinguish himself. While he was thus engaged, he overtook a poor and ragged figure, the singularity of whose appearance engaged his attention. It was a man of middle age, in a dress he had never seen before, with two poor children that seemed with difficulty to keep up with him, while he carried a third in his arms, whose pale emaciated looks sufficiently declared disease and pain. The man had upon his head a coarse blue bonnet instead of a hat; he was wrapped round by a tattered kind of garment, striped with various colours, and at his side hung down a long and formidable sword.

Tommy surveyed him with such an earnest observation, that at length the man took notice of it, and, bowing to him with the greatest civility, ventured to ask him if he had met with any accident, that he appeared in a disorder which suited so little with his quality. Tommy was not a little pleased with the discernment of the man, who could distinguish his importance in spite of the dirtiness of his clothes, and therefore mildly answered, "No, friend, there is not much the matter. I have a little obstinate horse that ran away with me, and after trying in vain to throw me down, he plunged into the middle of that great bog there, and so I jumped off for fear of being swallowed up, otherwise I should soon have made him submit, for I am used to such things, and don't mind them in the least."

Here the child that the man was carrying began to cry bitterly, and the father endeavoured to pacify him, but in vain. "Poor thing," said Tommy, "he seems to be unwell; I am heartily sorry for him!" "Alas! master," answered the man, "he is not well, indeed; he has now a violent ague fit upon him, and I have not had a morsel of bread to give him or any of the rest since yesterday noon."

Tommy was naturally generous, and now his mind was unusually softened by the remembrance of his own recent distresses; he therefore pulled a shilling out of his pocket and gave it to the man, saying, "Here, my honest friend, here is something to buy your child some food, and I sincerely wish he may soon recover." "God bless your sweet face!" said the man; "you are the best friend I have seen this many a day; but for this kind assistance we might have been all lost." He then, with many bows and thanks, struck across the common into a different path, and Tommy went forward, feeling a greater pleasure at this little act of humanity than he had long been acquainted with among all the fine acquaintance he had lately contracted.

But he had walked a very little way with these reflections before he met with a new adventure. A flock of sheep was running, with all the precipitation which fear could inspire, from the pursuit of a large dog; and just as Tommy approached, the dog had overtaken a lamb, and seemed disposed to devour it. Tommy was naturally an enemy to all cruelty, and therefore, running towards the dog with more alacrity than prudence, he endeavoured to drive him from his prey; but the animal, who probably despised the diminutive size of his adversary, after growling a little while and showing his teeth, when he found that this was not sufficient to deter him from intermeddling, entirely quitted the sheep, and making a sudden spring, seized upon the skirt of Tommy's coat, which he shook with every expression of rage. Tommy behaved with more intrepidity than could have been expected, for he neither cried out nor attempted to run, but made his utmost efforts to disengage himself from his enemy. But, as the contest was so unequal, it is probable he would have been severely bitten, had not the honest stranger, whom he had relieved, come running up to his assistance, and seeing the danger of his benefactor, laid the dog dead at his feet by a furious stroke of his broadsword.

Tommy, thus delivered from impending danger, expressed his gratitude to the stranger in the most affectionate manner, and desired him to accompany him to his father's house, where he and his wearied children should receive whatever refreshment they wished. He then turned his eyes to the lamb, which had been the cause of the contest, and lay panting upon the ground bleeding and wounded, but not to death, and remarked, with astonishment, upon his fleece the well-known characters of H.S., accompanied with a cross. "As I live," said Tommy, "I believe this is the very lamb which Harry used to be so fond of, and which would sometimes follow him to Mr Barlow's. I am the luckiest fellow in the world, to have come in time to deliver him, and now, perhaps, Harry may forgive me all the ill-usage he has met with." Saying this, he took the lamb up and kissed it with the greatest tenderness; nay, he would have even borne it home in his arms had it not been rather too heavy for his strength; but the honest stranger, with a grateful officiousness, offered his services, and prevailed on Tommy to let him carry it, while he delivered his child to the biggest of his brothers.

When Tommy had now arrived within a little distance of his home he met his father and Mr Barlow, who had left the house to enjoy the morning air, before breakfast. They were surprised to see him in such an equipage, for the dirt, which had bespattered him from head to foot, began to dry in various places, and gave him the appearance of a farmer's clay-built wall in the act of hardening. But Tommy without giving them time to make inquiries, ran affectionately up to Mr Barlow, and taking him by the hand, said, "Oh, sir! here is the luckiest accident in the world! poor Harry Sandford's favourite lamb would have been killed by a great mischievous dog, if I had not happened to come by and save his life!" "And who is this honest man," said Mr Merton, "whom you have picked up on the common? He seems to be in distress, and his famished children are scarcely able to drag themselves along."

"Poor man!" answered Tommy, "I am very much obliged to him; for, when I went to save Harry's lamb, the dog attacked me, and would have hurt me very much if he had not come to my assistance and killed him with his great sword. So I have brought him with me that he might refresh himself with his poor children, one of which has a terrible ague; for I knew, papa, that though I had not behaved well of late, you would not be against my doing an act of charity." "I am, on the contrary, very glad," said Mr Merton, "to see you have so much gratitude in your temper. But what is the reason that I see you thus disfigured with dirt? Surely you must have been riding, and your horse has thrown you? And so it is, for here is William following with both the horses in a foam."

William at that moment appeared, and, trotting up to his master, began to make excuses for his own share in the business. "Indeed, sir," said he, "I did not think there was the least harm in going out with Master Tommy, and we were riding along as quietly as possible, and master was giving me a long account of the Arabs, who, he said, lived in the finest country in the world, which does not produce anything to eat or drink, or wear, and yet they never want to come upon the parish, but ride upon the most mettled horses in the world, fit to start for any plate in England. And just as he was giving me this account, Punch took it into his head to run away, and while I was endeavouring to catch him, he jumped into a quagmire, and shot Master Tommy off in the middle of it." "No," said Tommy, "there you mistake; I believe I could manage a much more spirited horse than Punch, but I thought it prudent to throw myself off for fear of his plunging deeper into the mire." "But how is this?" said Mr Merton, "the pony used to be the quietest of horses; what can have given him this sudden impulse to run away? Surely, William, you were not so imprudent as to trust your master with spurs?" "No, sir," answered William, "not I; and I can take my oath he had no spurs on when he first set out."

Mr Merton was convinced there was some mystery in this transaction, and, looking at his son to find it out, he at length discovered the ingenious contrivance of Tommy to supply the place of spurs, and could hardly preserve his gravity at the sight. He, however, mildly set before him his imprudence, which might have been attended with the most fatal consequences—the fracture of his limbs, or even the loss of his life—and desired him for the future to be more cautious. They then returned to the house, and Mr Merton ordered his servants to supply his guests with plenty of the most nourishing food.

After breakfast they sent for the unhappy stranger into the parlour, whose countenance now bespoke satisfaction and gratitude; and Mr Merton, who, by his dress and accent, discovered him to be an inhabitant of Scotland, desired to know by what accident he had thus wandered so far from home with these poor helpless children, and had been reduced to so much misery.

"Alas! your honour," answered the man, "I should ill deserve the favours you have shown me if I attempted to conceal anything from such worthy benefactors. My tale, however, is simple and uninteresting, and I fear there can be nothing in the story of my distress the least deserving of your attention."

"Surely," said Mr Merton, with the most benevolent courtesy, "there must be something in the distress of every honest man which ought to interest his fellow-creatures; and if you will acquaint us with all the circumstances of your situation, it may perhaps be within our power, as it certainly is in our inclinations, to do you further service."

The man then bowed to the company with an air of dignity which surprised them all, and thus began: "I was born in that part of our island which is called the North of Scotland. The country there, partly from the barrenness of the soil, and the inclemency of the season, and partly from other causes which I will not now enumerate, is unfavourable to the existence of its inhabitants. More than half of the year our mountains are covered with continual snows, which prohibit the use of agriculture, or blast the expectations of a harvest; yet the race of men which inhabit these dreary wilds are perhaps not more undeserving the smiles of fortune than many of their happier neighbours. Accustomed to a life of toil and hardship, their bodies are braced by the incessant difficulties they have to encounter, and their minds remain untainted by the example of their more luxurious neighbours; they are bred up from infancy with a deference and respect for their parents, and with a mutual spirit of endearment towards their equals, which I have not remarked in happier climates. These circumstances expand and elevate the mind, and attach the Highlanders to their native mountains with a warmth of affection which is scarcely known in the midst of polished cities and cultivated countries. Every man there is more or less acquainted with the history of his clan, and the martial exploits which they have performed. In the winter season we sit around the blazing light of our fires, and commemorate the glorious actions of our ancestors; the children catch the sound, and consider themselves as interested in supporting the honour of a nation which is yet unsullied in the annals of the world, and resolve to transmit it equally pure to their posterity.

"With these impressions, which were the earliest I can remember, you cannot wonder, gentlemen, that I should have early imbibed a spirit of enterprise and a love of arms. My father was indeed poor, but he had been himself a soldier, and therefore did not so strenuously oppose my growing inclination; he, indeed, set before me the little chance I should have of promotion, and the innumerable difficulties of my intended profession. But what were difficulties to a youth brought up to subsist upon a handful of oatmeal, to drink the waters of the stream, and to sleep shrouded in my plaid, beneath the arch of an impending rock! I see, gentlemen," continued the Highlander, "that you appear surprised to hear a man, who has so little to recommend him, express himself in rather loftier language than you are accustomed to among your peasantry here. But you should remember that a certain degree of education is more general in Scotland than where you live, and that, wanting almost all the gifts of fortune, we cannot afford to suffer those of nature to remain uncultivated. When, therefore, my father saw that the determined bent of my temper was towards a military life, he thought it vain to oppose my inclinations. He even, perhaps, involuntarily cherished them, by explaining to me, during the long leisure of our dreary winter, some books which treated of military sciences and ancient history. From these I imbibed an early love of truth and honour, which I hope has not abandoned me since, and by teaching me what brave and virtuous men have suffered in every age and country, they have, perhaps, prevented me from entirely sinking under my misfortunes.

"One night, in the autumn of the year, as we were seated round the embers of our fire, we heard a knocking at the door. My father rose, and a man of a majestic presence came in, and requested permission to pass the night in our cottage. He told us he was an English officer, who had long been stationed in the Highlands, but now, upon the breaking out of war, he had been sent for in haste to London, whence he was to embark for America as soon as he could be joined by his regiment. 'This,' said he, 'has been the reason of my travelling later than prudence permits, in a mountainous country, with which I am imperfectly acquainted. I have unfortunately lost my way, and but for your kindness,' added he, smiling, 'I must here begin my campaign, and pass the night upon a bed of heath amid the mountains.' My father rose, and received the officer with all the courtesy he was able (for in Scotland every man thinks himself honoured by being permitted to exercise his hospitality); he told him his accommodations were mean and poor, but what he had was heartily at his service. He then sent me to look after his visitor's horse, and set before him some milk and oaten bread, which were all the dainties we possessed; our guest, however, seemed to feed upon it with an appetite as keen as if he had been educated in the Highlands; and what I could not help remarking with astonishment, although his air and manners proved that he could be no stranger to a more delicate way of living, not a single word fell from him that intimated he had ever been used to better fare.

"During the evening our guest entertained us with various accounts of the dangers he had already escaped, and the service he had seen. He particularly described the manners of the savage tribes he was going to encounter in America, and the nature of their warfare. All this, accompanied with the tone and look of a man who was familiar with great events, and had borne a considerable share in all he related, so inflamed my military ardour, that I was no longer capable of repressing it. The stranger perceived it, and looking at me with an air of tenderness and compassion, asked if that young man was intended for the service. My colour rose, and my heart immediately swelled at the question; the look and manner of our guest had strangely interested me in his favour, and the natural grace and simplicity with which he related his own exploits, put me in mind of the great men in other times. Could I but march under the banner of such a leader I thought nothing would be too arduous to be achieved. I saw before me a long perspective of combats, difficulties, and dangers; something, however, whispered to my mind that I should be successful in the end, and support the reputation of our name and clan. Full of these ideas I sprang forwards at the question, and told the officer that the darling passion of my life would be to bear arms under a chief like him; and that, if he would suffer me to enlist under his command, I should be ready to justify his kindness by patiently supporting every hardship, and facing every danger. 'Young man,' replied he, with a look of kind concern, 'there is not an officer in the army that would not be proud of such a recruit; but I should ill betray the hospitality I have received from your parents, if I suffered you to be deceived in your opinion of the military profession.' He then set before me, in the strongest language, all the hardships which would be my lot; the dangers of the field, the pestilence of camps, the slow consuming languor of hospitals, the insolence of command, the mortification and subordination, and the uncertainty that the exertions of even a long life would ever lead to the least promotion. 'All this,' replied I, trembling with fear that my father should take advantage of these too just representations to refuse his consent, 'I knew before; but I feel an irresistible impulse within me which compels me to the field. The die is cast for life or death, and I will abide by the chance that now occurs. If you, sir, refuse me, I will, however, enlist with the first officer that will accept me; for I will no longer wear out life amid the solitude of these surrounding mountains, without either a chance of meriting applause or distinguishing my name.'

"The officer then desisted from his opposition, and, turning to my parents, asked them if it were with their consent that I was going to enlist. My mother burst into tears, and my sisters hung about me weeping; my father replied with a deep sigh, 'I have long experienced that it is in vain to oppose the decrees of Providence. Could my persuasions have availed, he would have remained contented in these mountains; but that is now impossible, at least till he has purchased wisdom at the price of his blood. If, therefore, sir, you do not despise his youth and mien, take him with you, and let him have the advantage of your example. I have been a soldier myself; and I can assure you, with truth, that I have never seen an officer under whom I would more gladly march than yourself.' Our guest made a polite reply to my father, and instantly agreed to receive me. He then pulled out a purse, and offering it to my father, said, 'The common price of a recruit is now five guineas; but so well am I satisfied with the appearance of your son, and the confidence you repose in me, that I must insist upon your accepting what is contained in this purse; you will dispose of it as you please for your mutual advantage. Before I depart to-morrow I will give such directions as may enable him to join the regiment, which is now preparing to march.' He then requested that he might retire to rest, and my father would have resigned the only bed he had in the house to his guest, but he absolutely refused, and said, 'Would you shame me in the eyes of my new recruit? What is a soldier good for that cannot sleep without a bed? The time will soon arrive when I shall think a comfortable roof and a little straw an enviable luxury.' I therefore raised him as convenient a couch as I was able to make with heath and straw, and wrapping himself up in his riding-coat, he threw himself down upon it and slept till morning. With the first dawn of day he rose and departed, having first given me the directions which were necessary to enable me to join the regiment. But before he went, my father, who was equally charmed with his generosity and manners, pressed him to take back part of the money he had given us; this, however, he absolutely refused, and left us, full of esteem and admiration.

"I will not, gentlemen, repeat the affecting scene I had to undergo in taking leave of my family and friends. It pierced me to the very heart; and then, for the first time, I almost repented of being so near the accomplishment of my wishes. I was, however, engaged, and determined to fulfil my engagement; I therefore tore myself from my family, having with difficulty prevailed upon my father to accept of part of the money I had received for my enrolment. I will not trespass upon your time to describe the various emotions which I felt from the crowd of new sensations that entered my mind during our march. I arrived without any accident in London, the splendid capital of this kingdom; but I could not there restrain my astonishment to see an immense people talking of wounds, of death, of battles, sieges, and conquests, in the midst of feasts, and balls, and puppet-shows, and calmly devoting thousands of their fellow-creatures to perish by famine or the sword, while they considered the loss of a dinner, or the endurance of a shower, as an exertion too great for human fortitude.

"I soon embarked, and arrived, without any other accident than a horrible sickness, at the place of our destination in America. Here I joined my gallant officer, Colonel Simmons, who had performed the voyage in another ship."—(Miss Simmons, who was present at this narration, seemed to be much interested at this mention of her own name; she, however, did not express her feelings, and the stranger proceeded with his story.)—"The gentleman was, with justice, the most beloved, and the most deserving to be so, of any officer I have ever known. Inflexible in everything that concerned the honour of the service, he never pardoned wilful misbehaviour, because he knew that it was incompatible with military discipline; yet, when obliged to punish, he did it with such reluctance that he seemed to suffer almost as much as the criminal himself. But, if his reason imposed this just and necessary severity, his heart had taught him another lesson in respect to private distresses of his men; he visited them in their sickness, relieved their miseries, and was a niggard of nothing but human blood. But I ought to correct myself in that expression, for he was rashly lavish of his own, and to that we owe his untimely loss.

"I had not been long in America before the colonel, who was perfectly acquainted with the language and manners of the savage tribes that border upon the British colonies, was sent on an embassy to one of their nations, for the purpose of soliciting their alliance with Britain. It may not, perhaps, be uninteresting to you, gentlemen, and to this my honourable little master, to hear some account of a people whose manners and customs are so much the reverse of what you see at home. As my worthy officer, therefore, contented with my assiduity and improvement in military knowledge, permitted me to have the honour of attending him, I will describe some of the most curious facts which I was witness to.

"You have, doubtless, heard many accounts of the surprising increase of the English colonies in America; and when we reflect that it is scarcely a hundred years since some of them were established, it must be confessed that they have made rapid improvements in clearing the ground of woods and bringing it to cultivation. Yet, much as they have already done, the country is yet an immense forest, except immediately on the coasts. The forests extend on every side to a distance that no human sagacity or observation has been able to determine; they abound in every species of tree which you see in England, to which may be added a great variety more which are unknown with us. Under their shade is generally found a rich luxurious herbage, which serves for pasture to a thousand herds of animals. Here are seen elks (a kind of deer of the largest size), and buffaloes (a species of wild ox), by thousands, and even horses, which, having been originally brought over by the Spaniards, have escaped from their settlements and multiplied in the woods."

"Dear!" said Tommy, "that must be a fine country, indeed, where horses run wild; why, a man might have one for nothing." "And yet," said Mr Merton, "it would be but of little use for a person to have a wild horse, who is not able to manage a tame one."

Tommy made no answer to his father; and the man proceeded. "But the greatest curiosity of all this country is, in my opinion, the various tribes or nations which inhabit it. Bred up from their infancy to a life of equal hardiness with the wild animals, they are almost as robust in their constitutions. These various tribes inhabit little villages, which generally are seated upon the banks of rivers; and, though they cultivate small portions of land around their towns, they seek the greater part of their subsistence from the chase. In their persons they are rather tall and slender, but admirably well-proportioned and active, and their colour is a pale red, exactly resembling copper. Thus accustomed to roam about the woods, and brave the inclemencies of the weather, as well as continually exposed to the attacks of their enemies they acquire a degree of courage and fortitude which can scarcely be conceived. It is nothing to them to pass whole days without food; to be whole nights upon the bare damp ground, and to swim the widest rivers in the depth of winter. Money, indeed, and the greatest part of what we call the conveniences of life, they are unacquainted with; nor can they conceive that one man should serve another merely because he has a few pieces of shining metal; they imagine that the only distinctions arise from superior courage and bodily perfections, and therefore these alone are able to engage their esteem. A celebrated traveller relates that, on one occasion, while he was engaged in finishing a drawing, he was suddenly interrupted by three of these curious-looking persons entering the room in which he was. At first he feared that they intended to attack him; but he soon found that he was mistaken, for, upon their seeing the representation of themselves upon a sheet which he had taken the day before, and which one of them took up, they immediately burst into a loud fit of laughter, while one of them offered to purchase it by giving some fruit in exchange.

"But if their manners are gentle in peace, they are more dreadful, when provoked, than all the wildest animals of the forest. Bred up from infancy to suffer no restraint, and to give an unbounded loose to the indulgence of their passions, they know not what it is to forgive those who have injured them. They love their tribe with a degree of affection that is totally unknown in every other country; for they are ready to suffer every hardship and danger in its defence. They scruple not in the least to experience wounds, and pain, and even death itself, as often as the interest of the country to which they are so much attached is concerned; but the same attachment renders them implacable and unforgiving to all their enemies. In short, they seem to have all the virtues and the vices of the ancient Spartans.

"To one of these tribes, called the Ottigamies, was Colonel Simmons sent ambassador, accompanied by a few more officers, and some private men, among whom I had the honour to be included. We pursued our march for several days, through forests which seemed to be of equal duration with the world itself. Sometimes we were shrouded in such obscurity, from the thickness of the covert, that we could scarcely see the light of heaven; sometimes we emerged into spacious meadows, bare of trees, and covered with the most luxuriant herbage, on which were feeding immense herds of buffaloes. These, as soon as they snuffed the approach of men, which they are capable of doing even at a considerable distance, ran with precipitation into the surrounding woods; many, however, fell beneath our attack, and served us for food during our journey. At length we came to a wide and rapid river, upon whose banks we found a party of friendly savages, with some of whom we embarked upon canoes made of the bark of trees, to proceed to the country of the Ottigamies.

"After three days' incessant rowing we entered a spacious lake, upon whose banks were encamped a considerable portion of the nation we sought. As we approached the shore they saluted us with a volley of balls from their muskets, which whistled just above our heads, without producing mischief. I and several of the soldiers instantly seized our arms, imagining it to be a hostile attack; but our leader quieted our apprehensions by informing us that this was only a friendly salute with which a nation of warriors received and welcomed their allies. We landed, and were instantly conducted to the assembly of the chiefs, who were sitting upon the ground, without external pomp or ceremony, with their arms beside them; but there was in their countenances and eyes an expression of ferocious grandeur which would have daunted the boldest European. Yes, gentlemen, I have seen the greatest and most powerful men in my own country; I have seen them adorned with every external circumstance of dress, of pomp, and equipage, to inspire respect, but never did I see anything which so completely awed the soul as the angry scowl and fiery glance of a savage American.

"As soon as our leader entered the circle, he produced the calumet, or pipe of peace. This is the universal mark of friendship and alliance among all the barbarous nations of America, and he that bears it is considered with so much respect that his person is always safe. This calumet is nothing but a long and slender pipe, ornamented with the most lively and beautiful feathers, which are ingeniously fixed along the tube; the bowl is composed of a peculiar kind of reddish marble, and filled with scented herbs and tobacco.

"Colonel Simmons lighted his pipe with great solemnity, and turning the bowl first towards the heavens, then to the earth, then in a circle round him, he began to smoke. In the mean time the whole assembly sat with mute attention, waiting to hear his proposals; for, though we call them savages, yet in some respects they well deserve to be imitated by more refined nations; in all their meetings and assemblies the greatest order and regularity prevail; whoever rises to speak is sure of being patiently heard to the end without the least interruption.

"Our leader then began to harangue them in their own language, with which he was well acquainted. I did not understand what passed, but it was afterwards explained to me that he set before their eyes the injuries they had mutually received from the French and the tribes in their alliance. He told them that their great father (for so these people call the King of Britain) had taken up the hatchet of war, and was sending an innumerable band of warriors to punish the insults of his enemies. He told them that he had ordered him to visit the Ottigamies, his dutiful children, and smoke with them the pipe of peace. He invited their young men to join the warriors that came from beyond the ocean, and who were marching to bury the bones of their brethren, who had been killed by their mutual foes. When he had concluded, he flung upon the ground a curious string of shells, which is called the belt of Wampum. This is a necessary circumstance in all the treaties made with these tribes. Whoever comes as an ambassador brings one with him to present to the people whose friendship is solicited, and, if the belt is accepted the proposed alliance is considered as entered into.

"As soon as our leader had finished, a chief of a stature superior to the common race of men, and of a most determined look, jumped into the middle of the assembly, and, taking up the belt, cried out in their language, 'Let us march, my brethren, with the young men of our great father! Let us dig up the hatchet of war and revenge the bones of our countrymen; they lie unburied, and cry to us for vengeance! We will not be deaf to their cries; we will shake off all delays; we will approve ourselves worthy of our ancestors; we will drink the blood of our enemies, and spread a feast of carnage for the fowls of the air and the wild beasts of the forest!' This resolution was universally approved by the whole nation, who consented to the war with a ferocious joy. The assembly was then dissolved, and the chiefs prepared for their intended march according to the manners of their country.

"All the savage tribes that inhabit America are accustomed to very little clothing. Inured to the inclemencies of the weather, and being in the constant exercise of all their limbs, they cannot bear the restraint and confinement of a European dress. The greater part of their bodies, therefore, is naked; and this they paint in various fashions, to give additional terror to their looks.

"When the chiefs were thus prepared they came from their tents; and the last solemnity I was witness to, was dancing the dance of war and singing the song of death. But what words can convey an adequate idea of the furious movements and expressions which animated them through the whole of this performance! Every man was armed with a kind of hatchet, which is their usual weapon in battle, and called a tomahawk. This he held in his hand, and brandished through the whole of the dreadful spectacle. As they went on, their faces kindled into an expression of anger that would daunt the boldest spectator; their gestures seemed to be inspired by frantic rage and animosity; they moved their bodies with the most violent agitations, and it was easy to see they represented all the circumstances of a real combat. They seemed to be engaged in close or distant battle, and brandished their weapons with so much fury, that you would have imagined they were going every instant to hew each other to pieces. Nor would it have been possible, even for the performers themselves of this terrific dance, to have avoided mutual wounds and slaughter, had they not been endued with that extraordinary activity which is peculiar to savage nations. By intervals they increased the horrid solemnity of the exhibition by uttering yells that would have pierced a European ear with horror. I have seen rage and fury under various forms and in different parts of the globe, but I must confess that everything I have seen elsewhere is feeble and contemptible, when compared with this day's spectacle. When the whole was finished, they entertained us at a public festival in their cabins, and, when we departed, dismissed us with these expressive wishes; they prayed that the Great Spirit would favour us with a prosperous voyage; that he would give us an unclouded sky and smooth waters by day, and that we might lie down at night on a beaver blanket, enjoying uninterrupted sleep and pleasant dreams; and that we might find continual protection under the great pipe of peace. I have been thus particular (said the Highlander) in describing the circumstances of this embassy, because you have not disdained to hear the story of my adventures; and I thought that this description of a people so totally unlike all you have been accustomed to in Europe might not prove entirely uninteresting."

"We are much obliged to you," said Mr Barlow, "for all these curious particulars, which are perfectly conformable to all I have heard and read upon the subject. Nor can I consider, without a certain degree of admiration, the savage grandeur of man in his most simple state. The passion for revenge, which marks the character of all uncivilised nations, is certainly to be condemned. But it is one of the constant prejudices of their education; and many of those that call themselves refined, have more to blush at in that respect than they are aware of. Few, I am afraid, even in the most refined state of society, have arrived at that sublime generosity which is able to forgive the injuries of his fellow-creatures, when it has the power to repay them, and I see many around me that are disgraced by the vices of uncivilised Americans, without a claim to their virtues."

"I will not fatigue your ears," continued the Highlander, "with the recital of all the events I was engaged in during the progress of the war. The description of blood and carnage is always disagreeable to a humane mind; and, though the perversity of mankind may sometimes render war a necessary evil, the remembrance of its mischiefs is always painful. I will only mention one event, continually lamented in the annals of this country, because it is connected with the untimely fate of my noble friend and gallant leader.

"It was determined by those who governed that we should march through the woods upon a distant expedition against the French. The conduct of this enterprise was given to a brave but rash commander, totally unacquainted with the people he had to oppose, and unskilled in the nature of a savage war. We therefore began our march through the same trackless wilds I have described, and proceeded for several days without any other difficulties than the nature of the country itself produced, and without seeing the face of an enemy. It was in vain that officers of the greatest experience, and particularly my worthy colonel, suggested to our commander the necessity of using every precaution against a dangerous and insidious foe.

"War is not managed, amid the forests of America, in the same manner as it is conducted upon the plains of Europe. The temper of the people there conspires with the nature of the country to render it a continual scene of stratagems and surprise. Unencumbered with tents or baggage, or numerous trains of artillery, the hostile warriors set out in small and chosen parties, with nothing but their arms, and are continually upon the watch to deceive their enemies. Long experience has taught them a degree of sagacity in traversing the woods which to us is inconceivable. Neither the widest rivers nor the most extensive forests can retard them for an instant. A march of a thousand miles is scarcely to them a greater difficulty than the passage of a European army between two neighbouring towns. The woods themselves afford them a continual supply of provisions in the various animals which they kill by the chase. When they are near their enemies they frequently lurk all day in thickets, for fear of a discovery, and pursue their march by night. Hundreds of them sometimes pursue their course in the same line, treading only in each other's steps, and the last of the party carefully covers over the impressions which his fellows have made. When they are thus upon the point of accomplishing their purpose the very necessities of nature are unheeded; they cease to fire upon the beasts of the forest, lest it should alarm the foe; they feed upon the roots or the bark of trees, or pass successive days in a perfect abstinence from food. All this our colonel represented to the general, and conjured him, with the strongest entreaties, not to hazard the safety of our army by an incautious progress. He advised him to send out numerous detachments to beat the bushes and examine the woods; and offered himself to secure the march of the army. But presumption is always blind; our general was unacquainted with any other than European warfare, and could not conceive that naked savages would dare to attack an army of two thousand disciplined troops.

"One morning, the way before us appeared more intricate and obscure than common; the forests did not, as usual, consist of lofty trees, which afford a tolerably clear prospect between their trunks, but were composed of creeping bushes and impervious thickets. The army marched as usual, with the vain ostentation of military discipline, but totally unprepared for the dreadful scene which followed. At length we entered a gloomy valley, surrounded on every side by the thickest shade, and rendered swampy by the overflowings of a little rivulet. In this situation it was impossible to continue our march without disordering our ranks; and part of the army extended itself beyond the rest, while another part of the line involuntarily fell behind.

"In the moment while the officers were employed in rectifying the disorder of their men, a sudden noise of musketry was heard in front, which stretched about twenty of our men upon the field. The soldiers instinctively fired towards the part whence they were attacked, and instantly fell back in disorder. But it was equally vain to retreat or go forward, for it now appeared that we were completely hemmed in. On every side resounded the fatal peals of scattering fire, that thinned our ranks and extended our bravest comrades on the earth. Figure to yourself a shoal of fishes, enclosed within the net, that circle in vain the fatal labyrinth in which they are involved; or rather, conceive what I have myself been witness to—a herd of deer, surrounded on every side by a band of active and unpitying hunters, who press and gall them on every side, and exterminate them at leisure in their flight; just such was the situation of our unfortunate countrymen. After a few unavailing discharges, which never annoyed a secret enemy that scattered death unseen, the ranks were broken and all subordination lost. The ground was covered with gasping wretches, and stained with blood; the woods resounded with cries and groans, and fruitless attempts of our gallant officers to rally their men, and check the progress of the enemy. By intervals was heard, more shrill, more dreadful than all the rest, the dismal yell of the victorious savages, who now, emboldened by their success, began to leave the covert and hew down those who fled, with unrelenting cruelty. As to myself, the description which our colonel had given me of their method of attack, and the precautions to be used against it, rendered me perhaps less disturbed than I should otherwise have been. I remarked that those who stood and those who fled were exposed to equal danger; those who kept their ranks and endeavoured to repel the enemy, exposed their persons to their fire, and were successively shot down, as happened to most of our unfortunate officers, while those who fled frequently rushed headlong upon the very death they sought to avoid.

"Pierced to the heart at the sight of such a carnage of my gallant comrades, I grew indifferent to life, and abandoned myself to despair; but it was a despair that neither impaired my exertions nor robbed me of the faculties of my mind. 'Imitate me,' I cried, 'my gallant countrymen, and we shall yet be safe.' I then directly ran to the nearest tree, and sheltered myself behind its stem—convinced that this precaution alone could secure me from the incessant volleys which darted on every side. A small number of Highlanders followed my example; and, thus secured, we began to fire with more success at the enemy, who now exposed themselves with less reserve. This check seemed to astonish and confound them; and had not the panic been so general, it is possible that this successful effort might have changed the fortune of the fight; for, in another quarter, the provincial troops that accompanied us behaved with the greatest bravery, and, though deserted by the European forces, effected their own retreat.

"But it was now too late to hope for victory or even safety; the ranks were broken on every side, the greater part of our officers slain or wounded, and our unfortunate general himself had expiated with his life his fatal rashness. I cast my eyes around, and saw nothing but images of death, and horror, and frantic rage. Yet even then the safety of my noble colonel was dearer to me than my own. I sought him for some time in vain, amid the various scenes of carnage which surrounded me. At length I discovered him at a distance, almost deserted by his men, yet still attempting to renew the fight, and heedless of the wounds which covered him. Transported with grief and passion, I immediately darted forward to offer him my feeble support; but, in the very instant of my arrival, he received a straggling ball in his bosom, and, tottering to a tree, supported his fainting limbs against the trunk. Just in that moment three of our savage enemies observed his situation, and marked him for their prey; they raised their hideous yell, and darted upon him with the speed and fierceness of wolves. Fury then took possession of my soul; had I possessed a thousand lives, I should have held them cheap in the balance. I fired with so unerring an aim that I stretched the foremost on the earth; the second received the point of my bayonet in his breast, and fell in the pangs of death; the third, daunted with the fate of his companions, turned his steps another way.

"Just then a horse, that had lost his rider, was galloping along the wood; I bounded across the path, and, seizing him by the bridle, instantly led him to my leader, and conjured him to preserve his glorious life. He thanked me in the most affectionate manner for my friendship, but bade me preserve my own life. 'As to myself,' said he, 'I do not wish to survive my country's dishonour; and even had I such a wish, the wounds I have received would render all escape impossible.' 'If that is your resolution,' said I, 'we will die together; for I swear by the eternal majesty of my Creator that I will not leave you.' When he saw me thus resolved, he consented to use my assistance, and with infinite difficulty I seated him upon the horse, which, holding by the reins, as I was then light and active, I guided along the wood with no inconsiderable speed.

"Fortunately for me, we were not observed by any of our savage enemies, so that, flying through the thickest part of the forest, we left the danger behind, and were soon removed beyond the sight or hearing of the battle. 'Courage,' said I, 'my noble leader! you are now almost in safety; and I trust you will yet preserve a life so necessary to your friends and country.' He answered me with the kindest expressions, but with a feeble voice, 'Campbell, I have consented to fly, more for the sake of preserving your life than from any hopes of my own; but since we are at a distance from yonder dreadful scene, permit me to alight; I have consumed my small remaining forces in the way, and now I am faint from loss of blood.' He sunk down at this, and would have fallen, but I received him in my arms; I bore him to the next thicket, and, strewing grass and leaves upon the ground, endeavoured to prepare him a bed. He thanked me again with gratitude and tenderness, and grasped my hand as he lay in the very agonies of death, for such it was, although I believed he had only fainted, and long tried every ineffectual method to restore departed life. Thus was I deprived of the noblest officer and kindest friend that ever deserved the attachment of a soldier. Twenty years have now rolled over me since that inauspicious day, yet it lives for ever in my remembrance, and never shall be blotted from my soul. (The Highlander then turned away to hide a tear, which did not misbecome his manly countenance; the company seemed all to share his griefs, but Miss Simmons above the rest. However, as the natural gentleness of her temper was sufficiently known, no one suspected that she had any particular interest in the relation.)

"I sat till night (continued the stranger) supporting the breathless body of my colonel, and vainly hoping he might return to life. At length I perceived that his noble soul was fled for ever. My own wounds grew stiff and painful, and exhausted nature required a supply of food; I therefore arose, and finding a spring that trickled down a hill at no great distance, I refreshed myself by a copious draught, and washed the clotted blood away from the hurts I had received. I then crushed some leaves, which the inhabitants of that country imagine salutary, and bound them on with bandages which I tore from my linen; I also found a few wild fruits, which past experience had taught me were innocent, and with them I allayed the pains of hunger. I then returned to the thicket, and, creeping into the thickest part, endeavoured to compose myself to rest.

"Strange, gentlemen, as it may appear, neither the forlorn nature of my situation, nor the dangers with which I was beset, were sufficient to keep me awake; my wearied and exhausted body seemed to triumph over all the agitations of my mind, and I sunk into a sleep as deep and profound as that of death itself. I awoke next morning with the first rays of the sun, but, more composed, I better understood the difficulties in which I was involved, and the uncertainty of my escape. I was in the midst of an immense desert, totally destitute of human assistance or support. Should I meet with any of my fellow-creatures, I could expect nothing but implacable cruelty; and even if I escaped their vigilance, what method of finding subsistence, or of measuring back, without a guide, the long and tedious march I had trodden? Hope, however, and the vigour of my constitution, still supported me. I reflected that it is the common lot of man to struggle with misfortunes; that it is cowardice to yield to evils, when present, the representation of which had not deterred me from voluntarily embracing the profession of a soldier; and that the providence of Heaven was as capable of protecting me in the forests of America as upon my native mountains. I therefore determined to struggle till the last with the difficulties which surrounded me, and to meet my fortune like a man. Yet, as I still by intervals heard the dismal cries of the enemy, and saw their fires at a distance, I lay close till night in the obscurity of my thicket. When all was dark and still, I ventured abroad, and laid in my scanty provisions of fruits and herbs, and drank again at the spring. The pain of my wounds now began to abate a little, though I suffered extremely from the cold, as I did not dare to kindle a fire, from the fear of discovering myself by its light.

"Three nights and days did I lead this solitary life, in continual dread of the savage parties which scoured all the woods in pursuit of stragglers, and often passed so near my place of retreat that I gave myself over for lost. At length, on the fourth evening, fancying myself a little restored, and that the activity of the enemy might be abated, I ventured out and pursued my march. I scarcely need describe the various difficulties and dangers to which I was exposed in such a journey; however, I still had with me my musket, and as my ammunition was not quite exhausted, I depended upon the woods themselves to supply me with food. I travelled the greater part of the night, involving myself still deeper in these inextricable forests, for I was afraid to pursue the direction of our former march, as I imagined the savages were dispersed along the country in pursuit of the fugitives. I therefore took a direction as nearly as I could judge parallel to the English settlements, and inclining to the south. In this manner I forced my way along the woods all night, and with the morning had reason to think that I had advanced a considerable distance.

"My wounds began now to pain me afresh with this exertion, and compelled me to allow myself some repose. I chose out the thickest covert I could find, and, shrouding myself as well as I was able, was soon overpowered by sleep. I did not awake till the sun had gained the meridian, and, creeping from my retreat, beheld, with some degree of terror, an enormous rattlesnake that was coiled up full in my way, and seemed determined to oppose my passage. This animal is frequent in the southern colonies, and is the most poisonous of all the reptiles that haunt the woods. He is in length from two to six feet, beautifully variegated with different colours, but the most remarkable circumstance attending him is a natural noise that he produces with every motion of his tail, and which, too, occasions his name. I soon destroyed my hissing foe, and, taking courage for the first time to kindle a fire, I roasted him upon the embers, and made the most delicious meal I ever remember upon his flesh."

"What!" exclaimed Tommy, "is it possible to eat snakes? I thought they had been all over poison." "Master," replied the Highlander, "the want of food will reconcile us to many meats which we should scarcely think eatable. Nothing has surprised me more than to see the poor, in various countries, complaining of the scarcity of food, yet throwing away every year thousands of the carcases of horses, which are full as wholesome and nourishing as beef, and are in many countries preferred to it; but, in general, every animal may be eaten, and affords a salutary food. As to snakes, the poison of them is contained in the hollow of their teeth. When they bite, they instil their venom into the wound, which mixes with the blood, and, without a timely remedy, destroys the sufferer; but if you cut off the head, the rest of the body is not only wholesome but palatable, and I have known it eaten as a delicacy by many inhabitants of the colonies.

"Thus refreshed, therefore, I pursued my march through the same thick, gloomy country, without meeting the least appearance of a human creature, and at night I cut, with a hatchet that I had about me, some boughs, with which I erected a temporary shelter. The next day, as I was pursuing my march, I saw a deer bound by me, upon whose shoulders was fixed a fierce and destructive animal resembling a tiger. This creature, which is about the size of a moderate dog, ascends the trees and hides himself among the branches till a deer, or any other animal that he can master, passes within his reach. He then darts himself with a sudden spring full upon the neck or shoulder of the unfortunate animal, which he continues tearing with so much violence that he soon despatches him. This was actually the case with the poor deer that passed me; for he had not run a hundred yards before he fell down in the agonies of death, and his destroyer began to regale himself upon the prey. I instantly saw that this was a lucky opportunity of supplying myself with food for several days. I therefore ran towards the animal, and by a violent shout made him abandon his victim and retire growling into the woods. I then kindled a fire with leaves and sticks, and, cutting off a large slice of venison, I plentifully refreshed myself for my journey. I then packed up as much of the most fleshy parts of the body as I could conveniently carry, and abandoned the rest to wild beasts.

"In this manner did I march for several days without wanting food, or seeing any probable end of my fatigues. At length I found a lofty mountain before me, which I determined to ascend, imagining that such an elevation might enable me to make some useful discoveries in respect to the nature of the country I had to traverse, and perhaps present me with some appearances of cultivation or inhabitants. I therefore ascended with infinite fatigue a rough and stony ascent of several miles, in which I was frequently obliged to clamber up pointed rocks, and work my way along the edge of dangerous precipices. I, however, arrived without any accident at the top, which was entirely bare of trees, and, looking round me, I beheld a wild and desert country, extending to a prodigious distance. Far as my eye could reach I discovered nothing but forests on every side but one; there the country seemed to be more open, though equally uncultivated, and I saw meadows and savannahs opening one beyond another, bounded at length by a spacious river, whose end and beginning were equally concealed from my eye. I was now so weary of this solitary kind of life, that I began to consider the inhabitants themselves with less apprehension; besides, I thought myself out of danger of meeting with the hostile tribes; and all these people, unless irritated by injuries or stimulated by revenge, are perhaps less strangers to the rights of hospitality than any civilised nation. I therefore reflected, that by directing my course to the river, and following the direction of its waters, I should have the greatest probability of meeting with some of my fellow-creatures, as the natives build their villages near lakes and streams, and choose their banks as a residence when they are employed in hunting. I therefore descended the mountain, and entered the level district which I saw before me; and then marched along an open champaign country for several hours, covered over with a species of rank grass, and beheld numerous herds of buffaloes grazing all around.

"It was here that an accident befel me, which I will relate for its singularity, both in respect to the dangers I incurred and my method of escape. As I was thus journeying on, I discovered a prodigious light that seemed to efface the sun itself, and streak the skies with an angry kind of illumination. I looked round me to discover the cause of this strange appearance, and beheld, with equal horror and astonishment, that the whole country behind was in flames. In order to explain this event, I must observe, that all the plains in America produce a rank, luxuriant vegetation, the juices of which are exhausted by the heat of the summer's sun; it is then as inflammable as straw or fodder, and when a casual spark of fire communicates with it, the flame frequently drives before the wind for miles together, and consumes everything it meets. This was actually the case at present; far as my eye could reach, the country was all in flames, a powerful wind added fresh fury to the fire, and drove it on with a degree of swiftness which precluded all possibility of flight. I must confess that I was struck with horror at the sudden approach of a death so new, so dreadful, so unexpected! I saw it was in vain to fly, the flaming line extended for several miles on every side, and advanced with such velocity that I considered my fate as inevitable. I looked round me with a kind of mute despair, and began to envy the fate of my comrades who had fallen by honourable wounds in battle. Already did the conflagration scorch me in its approach, accompanied by clouds of smoke that almost suffocated me with their baneful vapour. In this extremity Providence presented to my mind an instantaneous thought, which perhaps was the only possible method of escape. I considered that nothing could stop the conflagration but an actual want of matter to continue it, and therefore by setting fire to the vegetables before me, I might follow my own path in safety. (I hope, gentlemen, that during the course of a long life, you will never have occasion to experience the pleasure which the first glance of this expedient afforded to my mind.) I saw myself snatched, beyond expectation, from a strange and painful death, and instantly pulled out, with a trembling hand, the flint and steel upon which my preservation was to depend. I struck a light, and presently kindled the driest grass before me; the conflagration spread along the country, the wind drove it on with inconceivable fury, and I saw the path of my deliverance open before my eyes. In a few seconds a considerable vacancy was burnt before me, which I traversed with the speed of a man that flies from instant death. My feet were scorched with the glowing soil, and several times had I been nearly suffocated with the drift of the pursuing smoke, but every step I made convinced me of the certainty of my escape, and in a little time I stopped to consider at leisure the conflagration I had avoided, which, after proceeding to the point whence I set out, was extinguished as I had foreseen, and delivered me from all apprehension."

"I declare," said Tommy, "this is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard, and yet I can easily conceive it, for once I saw some men set fire to the heath and furzes upon the common, and they burnt so furiously that I was quite afraid to come near the flame."

"I pursued my way," continued the Highlander, "over the smoking soil, which I had rendered bare to a considerable extent, and lodged at night, as usual, under some boughs which I stuck up to defend me. In the morning I set out again, and soon arrived at a spacious lake, upon whose banks I could plainly discern the signs of an American encampment. I hesitated some time whether I should again conceal myself in the woods or deliver myself up to their mercy. But I considered that it was impossible long to continue this wandering life, and that in the end I must have recourse to some of these savage tribes for assistance. What, therefore, must be done at last, it was fruitless to delay. I had every reason to imagine that the people before me must either be favourable to Great Britain, or at least indifferent to the war; and in either case, from the experience I possessed of the manners of the natives, I did not think I had much to fear. I therefore determined to hazard everything upon the probability of a favourable reception, and, collecting all my resolution, I marched boldly forward, and soon arrived at the encampment.

"As soon as I entered the village the women and children gathered round me, with the curiosity natural to mankind at the sight of an unaccustomed object. I formed a favourable conjecture from this apparent ignorance of Europeans, and walking on with a composed step and steady countenance, I at length entered into one of the largest cabins I could find. When I was within, I saw a venerable old man whom I took to be a chief from his appearance, sitting at his ease upon the ground, and smoking. I saluted him with all the courtesy I was able, and placed myself upon the ground, at some little distance, waiting with inward anxiety, but external composure, for him to begin the conversation. After he had eyed me for some time with fixed attention, but without either sternness or anger, he took the pipe from his mouth and presented it to me. I received it with infinite satisfaction; for, as I have before remarked, this is always with the American tribes the firmest pledge of peace and a friendly reception.

"When we had thus been seated for some time in mutual contemplation of each other, he asked me in a dialect which I understood tolerably well, to eat. I did not think it prudent to refuse any offered civility, and therefore accepted the offer; and in a little time, a young woman who was in the back part of the hut, set before me some broiled fish and parched maize. After I had eaten, my friendly host inquired into my country and the reasons of my visit. I was just enough acquainted with the language he spoke to be able to understand him, and to give an intelligible though imperfect answer. I therefore explained to him, as well as I was able, that I had crossed the great water with the warriors of the king of Britain; that we had been compelled to take up the hatchet against the French and their allies, and that we had actually set out upon an expedition against their colonies, but that we had been surprised by a lurking party in the woods; that, in the confusion of the fight, I had been separated from the rest, and had wandered several days through the woods in search of my comrades; and that now, seeing the tents of my brethren, the red men, I had come to visit them, and smoke the pipe of peace in their company. All this I with some difficulty explained to my entertainer, who listened to me with great attention, and then bade me welcome in the name of his nation, which he told me was called the Saukies; he added, 'that their young men were dispersed through the woods, hunting the deer and buffalo, but they would soon return loaded with provisions, and in the meantime I might share his cabin and such provisions as he could command.' I thanked him for his offer, and remained several days in his hut, always entertained with the same hospitality, until the return of the young men from hunting. They came at last in several boats, along the lake, bringing with them a considerable quantity of wild beasts, which they had killed. I was received by all the tribe with the same hospitality I had experienced from the old chief; and as it was necessary to gain their friendship as much as possible, I joined them in all their hunting and fishing parties, and soon acquired a considerable degree of skill in both.

"Hunting itself has something cruel in the practice; it is a species of war which we wage with brute animals for their spoils; but if ever it can be considered as excusable, it is in these savage nations, who have recourse to it for their subsistence. They are active, bold, and dexterous in all these exercises, to such a degree, that none of the wild animals they attack have the smallest chance of escape. Their parties generally consist of almost all the youth of their nation, who go in a body to particular districts where they know game is plentiful. Their common method is, when they are arrived at a spot which abounds in deer or buffaloes, to disperse themselves through the woods; and then, alarming the beasts in the neighbourhood, they drive them with shouts and dogs towards some common place, which was always in the middle of all their parties. When they have thus roused their prey, the various squadrons gradually advance towards the centre, till they unite in a circle, and enclose a prodigious number of frightened animals; they then attack them either with fire-arms or arrows, and shoot them down successively. By these means they are sure, in a single day, to destroy a prodigious number of different beasts. But it sometimes happens that, while they are engaged in the chase of other animals, they become a prey themselves to their enemies, who take this method of surprising them in the woods, and gratifying their resentment. This was actually the case with my friends the Saukies, and produced a surprising event, the consequence of which was my return to the English colonies in safety.

"The Saukies had been long at war with the Iroquese, a powerful tribe of North Americans, in the interest of the French. The Iroquese had received intelligence of the situation of the Saukies' encampment, and determined to surprise them. For this purpose a thousand warriors set out by a secret march through the woods, and travelled with silence and celerity, which are peculiar to all these nations. When they had nearly approached the hunting-grounds of their enemies, they happened to be discovered upon their march by four warriors of another nation, who instantly suspected their design, and, running with greater diligence than it was possible so large a body could make, arrived at the encampment of the Saukies, and informed them of the near approach of their enemies. A great council was instantly assembled to deliberate upon the choice of proper measures for their defence. As they were encumbered with their families, it was impracticable to retreat with safety, and it seemed equally difficult to resist so large a force with inferior numbers.

"While they were in this uncertainty, I considered the nature of their situation, and had the good fortune to find out a resource, which, being communicated to my friend and chief, and adopted by the nation, was the means of their safety. I observed that the passage to the Saukie camp, for the Iroquese, lay along a narrow slip of land which extended for nearly a mile between two lakes. I therefore advised the Saukies to cast up a strong barrier at the end of the passage, which I showed them how to strengthen with ditches, palisades, and some of the improvements of the European fortification. Their number of warriors amounted to about four hundred; these I divided into equal parts, and, leaving one to defend the lines, I placed the other in ambuscade along the neighbouring woods. Scarcely were these dispositions finished before the Iroquese appeared, and, imagining they were rushing upon an unguarded foe, entered the defile without hesitation. As soon as the whole body was thus imprudently engaged, the other party of the Saukies started from their hiding-places, and, running to the entrance of the strait, threw up in an instant another fortification, and had the satisfaction to see the whole force of their enemies thus circumvented and caught in a trap. The Iroquese soon perceived the difficulty and danger of escape; they, however, behaved with that extraordinary composure which is the peculiar characteristic of this people on every occasion. The lakes were at that time frozen over, yet not so hard as to permit them to effect a passage over the ice; and though a thaw succeeded in a short time, it was equally impracticable to pass by swimming or on rafts. Three days, therefore, the Iroquese remained quiet in this disagreeable situation, and, as if they had nothing to apprehend, diverted themselves all this time with fishing. On the fourth morning they judged the ice sufficiently dissolved to effect their escape; and therefore, cutting down some trees which grew upon the strait, they formed them into rafts, and embarked their whole force. But this could not be done without the knowledge of the Saukies, who despatched a considerable body of warriors to oppose their landing. It is unnecessary to relate all the horrid particulars of the engagement which ensued; I will only mention, that the Iroquese at length effected their landing with the loss of half their number, and retreated precipitately to their own country, leaving behind them all the furs and skins which they had taken in their hunting. The share I had had in this success gained me the friendship of all the nation, and, at my desire, they sent some of their young men to guide me through the woods to the English settlements, and they took their leave of me with every expression of esteem, and a considerable present of valuable furs.

"These, gentlemen (with the exception of one adventure, when I was attacked by three desperate-looking fellows, two of whom I killed, and the other fled), are the most important and interesting events of my life; and as I have already trespassed too long upon your patience, I shall now hasten to draw my story to a conclusion. After this I was employed in various parts of America and the West Indies during the rest of the war. I suffered hardships and difficulties innumerable, and acquired, as my father had foretold, a little wisdom at the price of a considerable quantity of blood. When the war was ended, I found myself nearly in the same situation as I began, except the present of my friendly Americans, which I turned into money and remitted to England. I therefore now began to feel my military enthusiasm abated, and, having permission to leave the service, I embraced that opportunity of returning to my country, fully determined to spend the remainder of my life amid my family and friends. I found my father and mother still living, who received me in the fondest manner. I then employed the little fund I had acquired to stock a farm, which I hired in the neighbourhood, and where I imagined my care and industry would be sufficient to insure us all a comfortable subsistence. Some little time after, I married a virtuous and industrious young woman, the mother of the unfortunate children who are so much indebted to your bounty. For some time I made a shift to succeed tolerably well, but at length, the distresses of my country increasing, I found myself involved in the deepest poverty. Several years of uncommon severity destroyed my cattle (which is the chief support of the Highlanders), and rotted away the scanty crops, which were to supply us with food, upon the ground. I cannot accuse myself of either voluntary unthriftiness or neglect of my business, but there are some situations in which it seems impossible for human exertion to stem the torrent of misfortune. But wherefore should I give pain to such kind and worthy benefactors, by a detail of all the miseries which I and many of my poor countrymen have endured? I will therefore only mention that, after having suffered, I think, every distress which human nature is equal to support—after having seen my tender parents, and last, my dear unfortunate wife, perish by the hardships of our situation—I took the resolution of abandoning for ever a country which seemed incapable of supporting its inhabitants. I thought that the milder climate and more fertile soil of America might, perhaps, enable a wretched wanderer, who asked no more than food for his starving children, to drag on, a little longer, a miserable life. With this idea I sold the remainder of my stock, and, after having paid my landlord, I found I had just enough to transport myself and family into eternal banishment. I reached a seaport town, and embarked with my children on board a ship that was setting sail for Philadelphia. But the same ill-fortune seemed still to accompany my steps; for a dreadful storm arose, which, after having tossed our vessel during several days, wrecked us at length upon the coast. All the crew indeed escaped, and with an infinite difficulty I saved these dear but miserable infants who now accompany me; but when I reflect on my situation, in a distant country, without resources, friends, or hopes, I am almost inclined to think that we might all have been happier in the bosom of the ocean."

Here the Highlander finished his story, and all the company were affected by the recital of his distresses. They all endeavoured to comfort him with the kindest expressions and promises of assistance; but Miss Simmons, after she had with some difficulty composed herself enough to speak, asked the man if his name was not Andrew Campbell? The Highlander answered, with some surprise, it was. "Then," said she, "you will find that you have a friend, whom, as yet, you are not acquainted with, who has both the ability and the will to serve you. That friend," added she, seeing all the company astonished, "is no other than my uncle. That Colonel Simmons, whom you have described with so much feeling and affection, was brother to my father, and consequently uncle to myself. It is no wonder that the memory of such a man should be venerated by his relations. I have often heard my uncle speak of his untimely death as the greatest misfortune which ever happened to our family; and I have often seen him read, with tears in his eyes, many of his brother's letters, in which he speaks with the greatest affection of his faithful Highlander, Andrew Campbell."

At these words the poor Highlander, unable to repress the strong emotions of his mind, sprang forward in a sudden transport of joy, and, without consideration of circumstances, caught Miss Simmons in his arms, exclaiming at the same time, "Praised be to God for this happy and unexpected meeting! Blessed be my shipwreck itself, that has given me an opportunity of seeing, before I die, some of the blood of my dear and worthy colonel!" and, perceiving Miss Simmons confused at this abrupt and unexpected salutation, he added, in the most respectful manner, "Pardon me, my honoured young lady, for the improper liberty I have taken; but I was not master of myself to find, at a time when I thought myself the most forlorn and miserable of the human race, that I was in company with the nearest relation of the man, whom, after my own father, I have always loved and reverenced most." Miss Simmons answered with the greatest affability that she freely excused the warmth of his affection, and that she would that very day acquaint her uncle with this extraordinary event, who, she did not doubt, would come over with the greatest expedition to see a person whom he knew so well by name, and who could inform him of so many particulars of her uncle.

And now, the company being separated, Tommy, who had listened with silent attention to the story of the Highlander, took an opportunity of following Mr Barlow, who was walking out; and when he perceived they were alone, he looked at him as if he had some weighty matter to disclose, but was unable to give it utterance. Mr Barlow, therefore, turned towards him with the greatest kindness, and taking him tenderly by the hand, inquired what he wished. "Indeed," answered Tommy, almost crying, "I am scarcely able to tell you. But I have been a very bad and ungrateful boy, and I am afraid you no longer have the same affection for me."

Mr Barlow.—If you are sensible of your faults, my little friend, that is a very great step towards amending them. Let me therefore know what it is, the recollection of which distresses you so much; and if it is in my power to assist in making you easy, there is nothing, I am sure, which I shall be inclined to refuse you.

Tommy.—Oh sir! your speaking to me with so much goodness hurts me a great deal more than if you were to be very angry; for when people are angry and passionate, one does not so much mind what they say; but when you speak with so much kindness, it seems to pierce me to the very heart, because I know I have not deserved it.

Mr Barlow.—But if you are sensible of having committed any faults, you may resolve to behave so well for the future that you may deserve everybody's friendship and esteem; few people are so perfect as not to err sometimes, and if you are convinced of your errors, you will be more cautious how you give way to them a second time.

Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I am very happy to hear you say so. I will, then, tell you everything which lies so heavy upon my mind. You must know then, sir, that although I have lived so long with you, and during all that time you have taken so much pains to improve me in everything, and teach me to act well to everybody, I had no sooner quitted your sight than I became, I think, a worse boy than ever I was before.

Mr Barlow.—But why do you judge so severely of yourself as to think you were become worse than ever. Perhaps you have been a little thoughtless and giddy; and these are faults which I cannot with truth say you were ever free from.

Tommy.—No, sir; what I have been guilty of is infinitely worse than ever. I have always been very giddy and very thoughtless, but I never imagined I could have been the most insolent and ungrateful boy in the world.

Mr Barlow.—You frighten me, my little friend. Is it possible you can have committed actions that deserve so harsh a name?

Tommy.—You shall judge yourself, sir, for, now I have begun, I am determined to tell you all. You know, sir, that when I first came to you, I had a high opinion of myself for being born a gentleman, and a very great contempt for everybody in an inferior station.

Mr Barlow.—I must confess you have always had some tendency to both these follies.

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but you have so often laughed at me upon the subject, and shown me the folly of people's imagining themselves better than others, without any merit of their own, that I was grown a little wiser. Besides, I have so often observed, that those I despised could do a variety of things which I was ignorant of, while those who are vain of being gentlemen can do nothing useful or ingenious; so that I had begun to be ashamed of my folly. But since I came home I have kept company with a great many fine young gentlemen and ladies, who thought themselves superior to all the rest of the world, and used to despise every one else; and they have made me forget everything I learned before.

Mr Barlow.—Perhaps, then, I was mistaken when I taught you that the greatest merit any person could have is to be good and useful. These fine young gentlemen and ladies may be wiser, and have given you better lessons; if that is the case, you will have great reason to rejoice that you have changed so much for the better.

Tommy.—No, sir, no; I never thought them either good or wise, for they know nothing but how to dress their hair and buckle their shoes; but they persuaded me that it was necessary to be polite, and talked to me so often upon the subject, that I could not help believing them.

Mr Barlow.—I am glad to hear that; it is necessary for everybody to be polite; they therefore, I suppose, instructed you to be more obliging and civil in your manners than ever you were before. Instead of doing you any hurt, this will be the greatest improvement you can receive.

Tommy.—No, sir, quite the contrary. Instead of teaching me to be civil and obliging, they have made me ruder and worse behaved than ever I was before.

Mr Barlow.—If that is the case, I fear these fine young gentlemen and ladies undertook to teach you more than they understood themselves.

Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I am of the same opinion myself. But I did not think so then, and therefore I did whatever I observed them do, and talked in the same manner as I heard them talk. They used to be always laughing at Harry Sandford, and I grew so foolish that I did not choose to keep company with him any longer.

Mr Barlow.—That was a pity, because I am convinced he really loves you. However, it is of no great consequence, for he has employment enough at home; and however ingenious you may be, I do not think that he will learn how to manage his land, or raise food, from your conversation. It will therefore be better for him to converse with farmers, and leave you to the society of gentlemen. Indeed, this I know has always been his taste; and had not your father pressed him very much to accompany you home, he would have liked much better to have avoided the visit. However, I will inform him that you have gained other friends, and advise him for the future to avoid your company.

Tommy.—Oh, sir! I did not think you could be so cruel. I love Harry Sandford better than any other boy in the world; and I shall never be happy till he forgives me all my bad behaviour, and converses with me again as he used to do.

Mr Barlow.—But then, perhaps, you may lose the acquaintance of all those polite young gentlemen and ladies.

Tommy.—I care very little about that, sir. But I fear I have behaved so ill that he never will be able to forgive me, and love me as he did formerly.

Tommy then went on, and repeated with great exactness the story of his insolence and ingratitude, which had so great an effect upon him, that he burst into tears, and cried a considerable time. He then concluded with asking Mr Barlow if he thought Harry would be ever able to forgive him?

Mr Barlow.—I cannot conceal from you, my little friend, that you have acted very ill indeed in this affair. However, if you are really ashamed of all your past conduct, and determined to act better, I do not doubt that so generous and good-natured a boy as Harry is, will forgive you all.

Tommy.—Oh, sir! I should be the happiest creature in the world. Will you be so kind as to bring him here to day? and you shall see how I will behave.

Mr Barlow.—Softly, Tommy, softly. What is Harry to come here for? Have you not insulted and abused him without reason; and at last proceeded so far as to strike him, only because he was giving you the best advice, and endeavouring to preserve you from danger? Can you imagine that any human being will come to you in return for such treatment, at least till you have convinced him that you are ashamed of your passion and injustice, and that he may expect better usage for the future?

Tommy.—What, then, must I do, sir?

Mr Barlow.—If you want any future connection with Harry Sandford, it is your business to go to him and tell him so.

Tommy.—What, sir! go to a farmer's, to expose myself before all his family?

Mr Barlow.—Just now you told me you were ready to do everything, and yet you cannot take the trouble of visiting your friend at his own house. You then imagine that a person does not expose himself by acting wrong, but by acknowledging and amending his faults?

Tommy.—But what would everybody say if a young gentleman like me was to go and beg pardon of a farmer's son?

Mr Barlow.—They would probably say that you have more sense and gratitude than they expected. However, you are to act as you please. With the sentiments you still seem to entertain, Harry will certainly be a very unfit companion, and you will do much better to cultivate the new acquaintance you have made.

Mr Barlow was then going away, but Tommy burst again into tears, and begged him not to go; upon which Mr Barlow said, "I do not want to leave you, Tommy, but our conversation is now at an end. You have asked my advice, which I have given you freely. I have told you how you ought to act, if you would preserve the esteem of any good or sensible friend, or prevail upon Harry to excuse your past behaviour. But as you do not approve of what I suggested, you must follow your own opinion."

"Pray sir, pray sir," said Tommy, sobbing, "do not go. I have used Harry Sandford in the most barbarous manner; my father is angry with me, and, if you desert me, I shall have no friend left in the world."

Mr Barlow.—That will be your own fault, and therefore you will not deserve to be pitied. Is it not in your own power to preserve all your friends by an honest confession of your faults? Your father will be pleased, Harry Sandford will heartily forgive you, and I shall retain the same good opinion of your character which I have long had.

Tommy.—And is it really possible, sir, that you should have a good opinion of me after all I have told you about myself?

Mr Barlow.—I have always thought you a little vain and careless, I confess, but at the same time I imagined you had both good sense and generosity in your character; I depended upon first to make you see your faults, and upon the second to correct them.

Tommy.—Dear sir, I am very much obliged to you; but you have always been extremely kind and friendly to me.

Mr Barlow.—And therefore I told your father yesterday, who is very much hurt at your quarrel with Harry, that though a sudden passion might have transported you too far, yet, when you came to consider the matter coolly, you would perceive your faults and acknowledge them; were you not to behave in this manner, I owned I could say nothing in your favour. And I was very much confirmed in this opinion, when I saw the courage you exerted in the rescue of Harry's lamb, and the compassion you felt for the poor Highlander. "A boy," said I, "who has so many excellent dispositions, can never persist in bad behaviour. He may do wrong by accident, but he will be ashamed of his errors, and endeavour to repair them by a frank and generous acknowledgment. This has always been the conduct of really great and elevated minds, while mean and grovelling ones alone imagine that it is necessary to persist in faults they have once committed."

Tommy.—Oh, sir! I will go directly and entreat Harry to forgive me; I am convinced that all you say is right. But will you not go with me? Do pray, sir, be so good.

Mr Barlow.—Gently, gently, my young friend, you are always for doing everything in an instant. I am very glad you have taken a resolution which will do you so much credit, and give so much satisfaction to your own mind; but, before you execute it, I think it will be necessary to speak to your father and mother upon the subject; and, in the mean time, I will go and pay a visit to farmer Sandford, and bring you an account of Harry.

Tommy.—Do, sir, be so good; and tell Harry, if you please, that there is nothing I desire so much as to see him, and that nothing shall ever make me behave ill again. I have heard too, sir, that there was a poor Black came begging to us, who saved Harry from the bull; if I could but find him out, I would be good to him as long as I live.

Mr Barlow commended Tommy very much for dispositions so full of gratitude and goodness; and, taking leave of him, went to communicate the conversation he had just had to Mr Merton. That gentleman felt the sincerest pleasure at the account, and entreated Mr Barlow to go directly to prepare Harry to receive his son. "That little boy," observed he, "has the noblest mind that ever adorned a human being; nor shall I ever be happy till I see my son acknowledging all his faults, and entreating forgiveness; for, with the virtues that I have discovered in his soul, he appears to me a more eligible friend and companion than noblemen or princes."

Mr Barlow therefore set out on foot, though Mr Merton would have sent his carriage and servants to attend him, and soon arrived at Mr Sandford's farm. It was a pleasant spot, situated upon the gentle declivity of a hill, at the foot of which winded along a swift and clear little stream. The house itself was small, but warm and convenient, furnished with the greatest simplicity, but managed with perfect neatness. As Mr Barlow approached, he saw the owner himself guiding a plough through one of his own fields, and Harry, who had now resumed the farmer, directed the horses. But when he saw Mr Barlow coming across the field, he stopped his team, and, letting fall his whip, sprang forward to meet him with all the unaffected eagerness of joy. As soon as Harry had saluted Mr Barlow, and inquired after his health, he asked with the greatest kindness after Tommy; "for I fancy, sir," said he, "by the way which I see you come, you have been at Mr Merton's house." "Indeed I have," replied Mr Barlow, "but I am very sorry to find that Tommy and you are not upon as good terms as you formerly were."

Harry.—Indeed, sir, I am very sorry for it myself. But I do not know that I have given Master Merton any reason to change his sentiments about me; and though I do not think he has treated me as well as he ought to do, I have the greatest desire to hear that he is well.

Mr Barlow.—That you might have known yourself had you not left Mr Merton's house so suddenly, without taking leave of any one, even your friend Mr Merton, who has always treated you with so much kindness.

Harry.—Indeed, sir, I should be very unhappy if you think I have done wrong; but be so good as to tell me how I could have acted otherwise. I am very sorry to appear to accuse Master Merton, neither do I bear any resentment against him for what he has done; but since you speak to me upon the subject, I shall be obliged to tell the truth.

Mr Barlow.—Well, Harry, let me hear it; you know I shall be the last person to condemn you, if you do not deserve it.

Harry.—I know your constant kindness to me, sir, and I always confide in it; however, I am not sensible that I am in fault. You know, sir, that it was with unwillingness I went to Mr Merton's, for I thought there would be fine gentlemen and ladies there, who would ridicule my dress and manners; and, though Master Merton has been always very friendly in his behaviour towards me, I could not help thinking that he might grow ashamed of my company at his own house.

Mr Barlow.—Do you wonder at that, Harry, considering the difference there is in your rank and fortune?

Harry.—No, sir, I cannot say I do, for I generally observe that those who are rich will scarcely treat the poor with common civility. But, in this particular case, I did not see any reason for it; I never desired Master Merton to admit me to his company, or invite me to his house, because I knew that I was born, and in a very inferior station. You were so good as to take me to your house, and if I was then much in his company, it was because he seemed to desire it himself, and I always endeavoured to treat him with the greatest respect.

Mr Barlow.—That is indeed true, Harry; in all your little plays and studies I have never observed anything but the greatest mildness and good nature on your part.

Harry.—I hope, sir, it has never been otherwise. But though I had the greatest affection for Master Merton, I never desired to go home with him. What sort of a figure could a poor boy like me make at a gentleman's table, among little masters and misses that powder their hair, and wear buckles as big as our horses carry upon their harness? If I attempted to speak, I was always laughed at; or if I did anything, I was sure to hear something about clowns and rustics! And yet, I think, though they were all gentlemen and ladies, you would not much have approved of their conversation, for it was about nothing but plays, and dress, and trifles of that nature. I never heard one of them mention a single word about saying their prayers, or being dutiful to their parents, or doing any good to the poor.

Mr Barlow.—Well, Harry, but if you did not like their conversation, you surely might have borne it with patience for a little while: and then I heard something about your being quarrelsome.

Harry.—Oh, sir! I hope not. I was, to be sure, once a little passionate, but that I could not help, and I hope you will forgive me. There was a modest, sensible young lady, who was the only person that treated me with any kindness, and a bold, forward, ill-natured boy affronted her in the grossest manner, only because she took notice of me. Could I help taking her part? Have you not told me, too, sir, that every person, though he should avoid quarrels, has a right to defend himself when he is attacked?

Mr Barlow.—Well, Harry, I do not much blame you, from the circumstances I have heard of that affair; but why did you leave Mr Merton's family so abruptly, without speaking to anybody, or thanking Mr Merton himself for the civilities he had shown you? Was that right?

Harry.—Oh dear, sir, I have cried about it several times, for I think it must appear very rude and ungrateful to Mr Merton. But as to Master Tommy, I did not leave him while I thought I could be of any use. He treated me, I must say, in a very unworthy manner; he joined with all the other fine little gentlemen in abusing me, only because I endeavoured to persuade them not to go to a bull-baiting; and then at last he struck me. I did not strike him again, because I loved him so much in spite of all his unkindness; nor did I leave him till I saw he was quite safe in the hands of his own servants; and then, how could I go back to his house after what he had done to me? I did not choose to complain of him to Mr Merton; and how could I behave to him as I had done before, without being guilty of meanness and falsehood? And therefore I thought it better to go home and desire you to speak, to Mr Merton, and entreat him to forgive my rudeness.

Mr Barlow.—Well, Harry, I can inform you that Mr Merton is perfectly satisfied on that account. But there is one circumstance you have not mentioned, my little friend, and that is your saving Tommy's life from the fury of the enraged bull.

Harry.—As to that, sir, I hope I should have done the same for any human creature. But I believe that neither of us would have escaped, if it had not been for the poor courageous Black that came to our assistance.

Mr Barlow.—I see, Harry, that you are a boy of a noble and generous spirit, and I highly approve of everything you have done; but are you determined to forsake Tommy Merton for ever, because he has once behaved ill?

Harry.—I, sir! no, I am sure. But though I am poor, I do not desire the acquaintance of anybody that despises me. Let him keep company with his gentlemen and ladies, I am satisfied with companions in my own station. But surely, sir, it is not I that forsake him, but he that has cast me off.

Mr Barlow.—But if he is sorry for what he has done, and only desires to acknowledge his faults and obtain your pardon?

Harry.—Oh dear, sir, I should forget everything in an instant. I knew Master Tommy was always a little passionate and headstrong, but he is at the same time generous and good-natured; nor would he, I am sure, have treated me so ill if he had not been encouraged to it by the other young gentlemen.

Mr Barlow.—Well, Harry, I believe your friend is thoroughly sensible of his faults, and that you will have little to fear for the future. He is impatient till he sees you, and asks your forgiveness.

Harry.—Oh, sir, I should forgive him if he had beaten me a hundred times. But though I cannot leave the horses now, if you will be so kind to wait a little, I daresay my father will let me go when he leaves off ploughing.

Mr Barlow.—No, Harry, there is no occasion for that. Tommy has indeed used you ill, and ought to acknowledge it, otherwise he will not deserve to be trusted again. He will call upon you, and tell you all he feels on the occasion. In the mean time I was desired, both by him and Mr Merton, to inquire after the poor negro that served you so materially, and saved you from the bull.

Harry.—He is at our house, sir, for I invited him home with me; and when my father heard how well he had behaved, he made him up a little bed over the stable, and gives him victuals every day, and the poor man seems very thankful and industrious, and says he would gladly do any kind of work to earn his subsistence.

Mr Barlow then took his leave of Harry, and after having spoken to his father, returned to Mr Merton's.

During Mr Barlow's absence Mr Simmons had arrived there to fetch away his niece; but when he had heard the story of the Highlander, he perfectly recollected his name and character, and was touched with the sincerest compassion for his sufferings. On conversing with the poor man he found that he was extremely well acquainted with agriculture, as well as truly industrious, and therefore instantly proposed to settle him in a small farm of his own which happened to be vacant. The poor man received this unexpected change in his fortune with tears of joy, and every mark of unaffected gratitude; and Mr Merton, who never wanted generosity, insisted upon having a share in his establishment. He was proposing to supply him with the necessary implements of agriculture, and a couple of horses, to begin the culture of his land, just at the moment when Mr Barlow entered, who, when he had heard with the sincerest pleasure the improvement of the poor man's circumstances, begged permission to share in so benevolent an action. "I have an excellent milch-cow," said he, "which I can very well spare, whose milk will speedily recruit the strength of these poor children; and I have half-a-dozen ewes and a ram, which I hope, under Mr Campbell's management, will soon increase to a numerous flock." The poor Highlander seemed almost frantic with such a profusion of unexpected blessings, and said "that he wished nothing more than to pass the remainder of his days in such a generous nation, and to be enabled to show, at least, the sentiments which such undeserved generosity had excited."

At night Mr Merton, who was desirous by every method to support the good impressions which had now taken possession of Tommy's mind, proposed that Miss Simmons should favour them with the conclusion of the story which she had begun the night before. The young lady instantly complied, and then read them

The Conclusion of the Story of Sophron and Tigranes."The venerable Chares continued his narration thus: 'I passed several months among the Arabians, delighted with the simplicity of their life and the innocence of their manners; and would to heaven,' added he, with a sigh, 'that I had accepted their friendly invitations, and never quitted the silence of their hospitable deserts! How many scenes should I have avoided which fill these aged eyes with tears, and pierce my soul with horror as often as I recollect them! I should not have been witness to such a waste of human blood, nor traced the gradual ruin of my country. I should not have seen our towns involved in flames, nor our helpless children the captives of fell barbarians. But it is in vain for human beings to repine at the just decrees of Providence, which have consigned every people to misery and servitude that abandon virtue, and attach themselves to the pursuit of pleasure.

"'I left Arabia, with a heart penetrated with gratitude and admiration for its virtuous and benevolent inhabitants. They dismissed me with every mark of kindness and hospitality, guided me over their dreary deserts, and at parting presented me with one of those beautiful horses which are the admiration of all the surrounding nations. I will not trouble you with an account of the different countries which I wandered over in search of wisdom and experience. At length I returned to my native city, determined to pass the rest of my life in obscurity and retirement; for the result of all my observations was, that he is happiest who passes his time in innocent employments and the observation of nature. I had seen the princes and nobles of the earth repining in the midst of their splendid enjoyments, disgusted with the empty pageantry of their situation, and wishing in vain for the humble tranquillity of private life. I had visited many of the principal cities in several countries where I had travelled, but I had uniformly observed, that the miseries and crimes of mankind increased with their numbers. I therefore determined to avoid the general contagion by fixing my abode in some sequestered spot, at a distance from the passions and pursuits of my fellow-creatures.

"'Having therefore collected the remainder of my effects, and with them purchased a little farm and vineyard in a beautiful and solitary spot near the sea, I soon afterwards married a virtuous young woman, and in her society enjoyed, for several years, as great a degree of tranquillity as generally falls to the lot of man. I did not disdain to exercise with my own hands the different employments of agriculture; for I thought man was dishonoured by that indolence which renders him a burthen to his fellow-creatures, not by that industry which is necessary to the support of his species. I therefore sometimes guided the plough with my own hands, sometimes laboured in a little garden, which supplied us with excellent fruits and herbs; I likewise tended the cattle, whose patient labour enabled us to subdue the soil, and considered myself as only repaying part of the obligations I had received. My wife, too, exercised herself in domestic cares; she milked the sheep and goats, and chiefly prepared the food of the family.

"'Amidst my other employments I did not entirely forget the study of philosophy, which had charmed me so much in my early youth. I frequently observed, with admiration, the wisdom and contrivance which were displayed in all the productions of nature, and the perfection of all her works. I used to walk amid the coolness and stillness of the evening, feeding my mind with pleasing meditations upon the power and wisdom which have originally produced and still support this frame of things. I turned my eyes upon the earth, and saw it covered with innumerable animals, that sported upon its surface, and found, each according to his nature, subsistence adapted to his wants. I saw the air and water themselves teeming with life and peopled with innumerable swarms of insects. I saw that, throughout the whole extent of creation, as far as I was capable of observing it, nothing was waste or desolate—everything was replete with life and adapted to support it. These reflections continually excited in my mind new gratitude and veneration for that mysterious Being, whose goodness presides over such an infinite variety of beings. I endeavoured to elevate my thoughts to contemplate His nature and qualities; I however found my faculties too bounded to comprehend the infinite perfections of His nature; I therefore contented myself with imperfectly tracing Him in His works, and adoring Him as the common friend and parent of all His creatures.

"'Nor did I confine myself to these speculations, however sublime and consolatory to the human heart. Destined as we are to inhabit this globe of earth, it is our interest to be acquainted with its nature, and the properties of its productions. For this reason, I particularly examined all the vegetables which are capable of becoming the food of man, or of the various animals which contribute to his support. I studied their qualities, the soil in which they delighted, and the improvements which might be made in every species. I sometimes wandered among the neighbouring mountains, and wherever the fall of rocks, or the repeated violence of torrents had borne away the soil, I considered with silent admiration the various substances which we call by the common name of earth. These I used to collect and mingle with the mould of my own garden, by which means I frequently made useful discoveries in fertilising the soil and increasing the quantity of food.

"'I also considered the qualities of the air, which surrounds and sustains all living animals; I particularly remarked the noxious or salutary effects it is able to produce upon their constitutions; and, by these means, was frequently enabled to give useful counsels to all the neighbourhood. A large tract of ground had been formerly deluged by the sea; and the waters, finding no convenient vent, spread themselves all around, and converted a large extent of soil into a filthy marsh. Every year, when the heat of summer prevailed, the atmosphere was filled with putrid exhalations, which produced fevers and pestilential disorders among the inhabitants. Touched with compassion for the evils which they endured, I persuaded them to undertake the task of draining the soil and letting off the superfluous waters. This I instructed them to do with such success that, in a short time, an unwholesome desert became covered with the most luxuriant harvests, and was deprived of all its noxious influence. By thus rendering my services useful to my fellow-creatures, I received the purest reward which can attend the increase of knowledge—the consciousness of performing my duty, and humbly imitating that Being, whose goodness is as general and unbounded as his power.

"'Amidst these tranquil and innocent employments my life flowed gently away like a clear and even stream. I was a stranger to avarice or ambition, and to all the cares which agitate the bulk of mortals. Alternate labour and study preserved the vigour both of body and mind; our wants were few and easily gratified; we chiefly subsisted upon the liberal returns of the earth, and seldom polluted our table with the bodies of slaughtered animals. One only child, the unfortunate girl who owes her preservation to the courage of this young man, was granted to our prayers; but in her we found enough to exercise all the affections of our minds; we hung with ecstasy upon her innocent smiles, and remarked her opening graces with all the partiality of parental fondness. As she grew up, her mother instructed her in all the arts and employments of her sex; while I, who already saw the tempest gathering, which has since burst with such fatal fury upon my country, thought it necessary to arm her mind with all the firmness which education can bestow. For this reason I endeavoured to give both her mind and body a degree of vigour which is seldom found in the female sex.

"'As soon as Selene (for that was her name) was sufficiently advanced in strength to be capable of the lighter labours of husbandry and gardening, I employed her as my constant companion, and she soon acquired a dexterity in all the rustic employments, which I considered with equal pleasure and admiration. If women are in general feeble both in body and mind, it arises less from nature than from education; we encourage a vicious indolence and inactivity which we falsely call delicacy; instead of hardening their minds by the severer principles of reason and philosophy, we breed them to useless arts, which terminate in vanity and sensuality. In most of the countries which I had visited, they are taught nothing of a higher nature than a few modulations of the voice, or useless postures of the body; their time is consumed in sloth or trifles, and trifles become the only pursuit capable of interesting them. We seem to forget that it is upon the qualities of the female sex that our own domestic comforts and the education of our children must depend. And what are the comforts or the education which a race of beings, corrupted from their infancy, and unacquainted with all the duties of life, are fitted to bestow? To touch a musical instrument with useless skill, to exhibit their natural or affected graces to the eyes of indolent and debauched young men, to dissipate their husbands' patrimony in riotous and unnecessary expenses—these are the only arts cultivated by women in most of the polished nations I had seen; and the consequences are uniformly such as may be expected to proceed from such polluted sources—private misery and public servitude.

"'But Selene's education was regulated by different views, and conducted upon severer principles—if that can be called severity which opens the mind to a sense of moral and religious duties, and most effectually arms it against the inevitable evils of life. With the rising sun she left her bed, and accompanied me to the garden or the vineyard. Her little hands were employed in shortening the luxurious shoots of fruitful trees that supplied our table with wholesome and delicious fruits, or in supporting the branches of such as sunk beneath their load. Sometimes she collected water from a clear and constant rill that rolled along the valley, and recruited the force of plants that were exhausted by the sun. With what delight did I view her innocent cheerfulness and assiduity! With what pleasure did she receive the praises which I gave to her skill and industry; or hear the lessons of wisdom and the examples of virtuous women, which I used to read to her at evening, out of the writings of celebrated philosophers which I had collected in my travels.

"'But such a life was too unchecquered with misfortune to last. The first stroke which attacked and almost destroyed my hopes of good was the untimely loss of my dear and virtuous wife. The pestilential heats of autumn overpowered her tender frame, and raised a consuming fever in her veins; for some time she struggled against the disease, but at length her pure and innocent spirit forsook this earth for ever, and left me comfortless and forlorn to mourn her loss!

"'I will not, my worthy hosts, attempt to describe the inexpressible distress which seized my soul at seeing myself thus deserted. There are some philosophers who aspire to triumph over human feelings, and consider all tender affections as disgraceful weaknesses; for my part, I have never pretended to that degree in insensibility. I have, indeed, opposed as criminal that habitual acquiescence in sorrow which renders us unfit for the discharge of our duties; but while I have endeavoured to act, I have never blushed at feeling, like a man. Even now, that time has mitigated the keenness of the smart, I feel the habitual anguish of an incurable wound. But let me rather hasten to relate the few remaining events of a uniform unvaried life than detain you with a useless repetition of my sorrows.

"'Scarcely had time afforded me a feeble comfort, when the recollection of past misfortunes was almost extinguished by the new ones which overwhelmed my country. The fertile plains of Syria abounded in all the necessaries and conveniences of life; the vine seemed to grow spontaneously in every valley, and offer its luxuriant produce to every hand; the industrious insect which spins the wonderful substance called silk out of its bowels, though lately introduced into that part of Asia, seemed to receive new vigour from the mildness of the climate; corn and oil, the noblest fruits and the most salubrious herbs, were found in the garden of every peasant; and the herds of cattle and horses, which wandered over our luxuriant pastures, equalled or surpassed all I had observed in other countries. But this profusion of blessings, instead of being attended with any beneficial effects, produced nothing but a foolish taste for frivolous employment and sensuality; feasts, and dances, and music, and tricks of players, and exhibitions of buffoons, were more attended to than all the serious and important cares of life. Every young man was a critic in the science of adjusting the folds of his robe, or of giving a studied negligence to his hair; every young woman was instructed in every art that serves to consume time or endanger modesty. Repeat to them an idle tale, the tricks of a gamester, or the adventures of a singing-girl, and every audience listened with mute attention to the wonderful narration; but tell them of the situation of their country, the wretched state of their civil and military discipline, or of the numerous and warlike tribes of barbarians which surround them, and every auditor would steal away in silence, and leave the uninteresting theme.

"'In such a state of things, it was not long to be expected that my countrymen would be permitted to hold the riches they abused, and wanted firmness to defend. A warlike tribe of barbarians burst forth from the northern mountains of Asia, and spread themselves over our fertile plains, which they laid waste like a consuming tempest. After a few ineffectual skirmishes, which only served to expose their weakness to the contempt of their enemies, they yielded without opposition to the invader; in this, indeed, more wise than to irritate him by a fruitless resistance; and thus, in a few weeks, the leader of an obscure tribe of barbarians saw himself become a powerful monarch, and possessor of one of the richest provinces of Asia.

"'I was sitting one evening at the door of my cottage, gazing upon the fading glory of the setting sun, when a man, of a majestic appearance, but with something ferocious in his look, attended by several others, passed by. As he approached my little garden, he seemed to view it with satisfaction, and to unbend the habitual sternness of his look; I asked him if he would enter in and taste the fruits with his companions. He accepted my offer, and, entering into a shady arbour, I brought him the most palatable fruits I could find, with milk and other rustic fare, such as my farm afforded. He seemed pleased with his entertainment, and, when he was departing, thanked me with great affability, and bade me ask a favour in return, 'which,' added he, with a certain degree of conscious pride, 'you can scarcely make too great either for my gratitude or power.' 'If,' answered I (for I began to suspect that it was Arsaces, the leader of these barbarians), 'your power is indeed equal to every boon, give peace and liberty to my country!' 'The first,' said he, 'I have already given; and, as to the second, it is impossible; their vices and effeminacy render them incapable of enjoying it. Men that have neither virtue, temperance, nor valour, can never want a master, even though Arsaces were to withdraw his conquering troops.' 'But ask again,' added he, 'something for thyself, and let the favour be worthy me to bestow.' 'Heaven,' answered I with a smile, 'has already given everything I can want, when it gave the earth fertility, and me the power to labour. All, therefore, that I request, O mighty conqueror, is, that you will please to order your men to step aside from the newly cultivated ground, and not destroy my vegetables.' 'By heaven!' said Arsaces, turning to his companions, 'there is something elevated in the tranquillity and composure of this man's mind; and, was I not Arsaces, I should be with pleasure Chares.' He then departed, but ordered me to attend him the next day at the camp, and gave strict orders that none of the soldiers should molest or injure my humble residence.

"'I attended the great Arsaces at the time he had appointed, and traversed the encampment of his troop with admiration and regret. This people was a tribe of that mighty empire which is called Scythia, whose inhabitants have so often issued from their deserts for the conquest and destruction of their neighbours.

"'This country extends to an unknown length behind the most fertile districts of Europe and Asia. The climate is cold in winter, and the earth for several months covered with snow; but in summer it feels the enlivening influence of the sun, and for that reason is possessed of an amazing degree of fertility. But as the inhabitants live remote from the sea, and possess few navigable rivers, they are little acquainted with agriculture, or the arts of life. Instead of trusting to the increase of their fields for food, they raise prodigious herds of cattle and horses in the luxuriant pastures which everywhere abound. The Scythians, like the Arabians, wander over these immense spaces without a fixed or permanent residence. By the side of lakes and rivers, where the verdure is most constant, and the vegetation stronger, they generally encamp, until the heats of the summer compel them to ascend the mountains, and seek a cooler residence. Their houses are composed of slender poles covered with skins, or a coarse cloth, and therefore easily erected, or taken down and stowed in waggons, for the convenience of transporting them in their marches. Their diet is answerable to the poverty of their habitations. They milk their herds, and, above all, their mares, and preserve the produce in large bottles for months together. This sour and homely mess is to them the greatest dainty, and composes the chief of their nourishment; to this they add the flesh of their cattle and horses, which they kill when afflicted with disease, but rarely in health.

"'This is the simple and uniform life of all the Scythians; but this simplicity renders them formidable to all their neighbours, and irresistible in war. Unsoftened by ease or luxury, unacquainted with the artificial wants of life, these nations pass their lives in manly exercises and rustic employments; but horsemanship is the greatest pride and passion of their souls; nor is there an individual who does not at least possess several of these noble animals, which, though small in size, are admirably adapted for the fatigues of war and the chase, and endowed with incomparable swiftness. As to the Scythians themselves, they excel all other nations, unless it be the Arabs, in their courage and address in riding; without a saddle, or even a bridle, their young men will vault upon an unbacked courser, and keep their seats, in spite of all his violent efforts, till they have rendered him tame and obedient to their will. In their military expeditions they neither regard the obstacles of nature nor the inclemency of the season; and their horses are accustomed to traverse rocks and mountains with a facility that is incredible. If they reach a river, instead of waiting for the tedious assistance of boats and bridges, the warrior divests himself of his clothes and arms, which he places in a bundle upon the horse's back, and then, plunging into the stream, conducts him over by the bridle. Even in the midst of winter, when the hatred of other nations gives way to the inclemencies of the season, the Scythian follows his military labours, and rejoices to see the earth thick covered with frost and snow, because it affords him a solid path in his excursions; neither the severest cold nor the most violent storms can check his ardour. Wrapped up in the thick furs of animals, the patient horseman pursues his march, while all his food for weeks together is comprised in a little bag of seeds or corn. Javelins, and bows and arrows, are the arms which these people are taught from their infancy to use with surprising dexterity; and, no less dangerous when they fly than when they charge the enemy in front, they are accustomed to shoot with an unerring aim at their pursuers, and turn the fortune of the battle. Such men are scarcely to be conquered by the efforts of the most powerful nations or sovereigns; and therefore the proudest conquerors of the world have failed in their attempts to subdue them.

"'Darius, one of the greatest kings which the vast empire of Persia ever obeyed, once attempted the exploit, and had nearly perished in the attempt. He advanced with a powerful army, but ill prepared for such an expedition, into the Scythian wastes. The inhabitants, well acquainted with the most effectual methods of defence, transported their families and herds into the interior parts of the country, and mounting their fleetest horses, seemed to fly before the monarch, who, infatuated with pride and confidence, pursued the chase for several days, until he found himself in the midst of solitary deserts, totally destitute of all that human wants require, where his army could neither advance nor retire without equal danger of perishing by thirst and famine. When the Scythian horsemen saw him thus involved, they began to check their speed; instead of flying, as usual, they hemmed him in on every side, and harassed the army with continual attacks. It was then they sent a present to the Persian king, the mysterious meaning of which increased the terrors of his situation. A Scythian, mounted upon a fiery steed, entered the camp at full speed, and, regardless of danger or opposition, penetrated even to the royal tent, where Darius was holding a council with his nobles. While they were all amazed at this extraordinary boldness, the man leaped lightly from his horse, and placing a little bundle upon the ground, vaulted up again with inconceivable agility, and retired with the same happy expedition. The curiosity of the monarch made him instantly order the packet to be examined, which contained only a mouse, a bird, a fish, and a bundle of arrows. Silence and astonishment for some time seized the assembly, till at length the king observed, that he thought the present which the Scythians had sent could signify nothing but their submission to his arms. 'The mouse,' said he, 'must represent the earth, because he resides in holes which he digs in the soil; the fish inhabits the water, and the bird resides in the air. By sending me, therefore, all these various animals, they mean to signify that they resign their air, their waters, and their earth to my dominion. Nor is the bundle of arrows more difficult to be explained; these constitute their principal defence, and, by sending them to an enemy, they can intimate nothing but terror and submission.' All who were present applauded this discourse of the monarch, excepting Gobrias, a man of singular wisdom and experience, who, when he was pressed to declare his sentiments, spoke to him thus:—'It is with the greatest reluctance, O king, that I find myself compelled to explain these presents of our enemies in a very different manner. That the Scythians, who have hitherto shown no marks either of fear or submission, should, on a sudden, feel so great a terror of the Persian arms, I cannot easily believe, more especially when I consider that our army is very much reduced by the distress it has suffered, and environed on every side by the enemy, whose boldness visibly increases with our necessities. What, therefore, I should infer from this extraordinary present is this: they intimate that unless, like the mouse, you can dig your passage through the earth, or skim the air like the bird, or glide through waters with the fish, you shall certainly perish by the Scythian arrows.' Such was the sentiment of Gobrias, and all the assembly was struck with the evident truth of his interpretation, and the king himself began to perceive and repent his rashness; instead, therefore, of advancing farther into deserts which afforded no subsistence, he resolved to attempt a retreat. This, however, he was not able to effect without the loss of the greatest part of his troops, who perished by thirst and famine, and the continued attacks of the enemy.

"'Nor was the expedition of Lysimachus, another powerful king, against this people, less memorable or less unfortunate. His army was defeated, and he himself taken prisoner; but, instead of meeting with that cruelty which we are accustomed to expect from barbarians, he experienced the greatest moderation and humanity from his conquerors. The general of the Scythians invited his captive to a solemn festival, in which he took care to assemble every circumstance of luxury and magnificence which prevailed in polished nations. The most exquisite meats were served up to table, and the most generous wines sparkled in golden bowls of the exactest workmanship. Lysimachus was equally delighted with the elegance of the repast and the politeness of the entertainer; but he was extremely surprised that, instead of sharing in the feast or even sitting down at table, the Scythian leader reposed in the corner of a tent, upon the bare ground, and satisfied his hunger with the most coarse and ordinary fare, prepared with all the simplicity of his country's manners. When the entertainment was finished, he asked Lysimachus which method of life appeared to him the most agreeable. Lysimachus could not conceal his preference of the more refined and luxurious dainties, or his dislike of the Scythian diet. 'If therefore,' replied his generous host, 'you feel so great a contempt for what this country produces, and so strong a preference for the productions of your own, what but madness, O king, can have tempted you to come so far in order to subdue men that live in a manner you despise? Is it not much greater wisdom to be contented with those advantages which you prize so highly, than to expose them to a certain hazard, for the chance of acquiring what would afford no pleasure or satisfaction? But let this lesson be sufficient to teach you moderation. A country which produces nothing but iron, is not easily conquered; nor are men, who have been from their infancy inured to every hardship, to be vanquished by curled and perfumed soldiers, who cannot live without baths, and music, and daily feasts. Be contented, therefore, for the future, to number the Scythians among your friends; and rather pray that the gods may keep them in ignorance of the superiority of your method of living, lest a desire of tasting it should tempt them to desert their own country and invade yours.' With this discourse he generously restored Lysimachus to liberty, and suffered him to lead back the shattered remains of his numerous army.

"'Such was the nation which had invaded Syria, and easily triumphed over the efforts of an effeminate and unwarlike people. As I passed through the camp, I was astonished at the order and regularity which prevailed among these barbarians. Some were exercising their horses in the mimic representation of a battle; part fled with incredible speed, while the rest pursued, and darted blunted javelins at their antagonists. Yet even those who fled would frequently turn upon their pursuers and make them repent their rashness. Some, while their horses were running in full speed, would vault from off their backs to others that accompanied them; some would gallop by a mark erected for their arrows, and, when they had passed it a considerable way, turn themselves round upon their horses and transfix it with an unerring aim. I saw many who vaulted upon their horses, and placed themselves between two naked swords, which would have given them certain death, had they swerved ever so little from the just direction. In another part of the camp I observed the children, who imitated all the actions of their fathers, bended little bows adapted to their strength, or guided horses of an inferior stature along the plain. Their women were indeed inferior to the Syrians in beauty and elegance, but seemed to be of a more robust constitution, and more adapted to produce and educate warriors. I saw no gold, no jewels, no vain and costly apparel; but all seemed busy in domestic cares, preparing the food of their families, or tending upon their infants.

"'At length I reached the royal tent, which scarcely differed from the rest in its structure or simplicity; and was immediately introduced to the great Arsaces. He received me with a courtesy which had nothing of the barbarian in it; seated me familiarly by his side, and entered into a long conversation with me upon the laws, and manners, and customs of the different nations I had seen. I was surprised at the vigour and penetration which I discovered in this untutored warrior's mind. Unbiassed by the mass of prejudices which we acquire in cities, even from our earliest childhood, unencumbered by forms and ceremonies which contract the understanding while they pretend to improve the manners, he seemed to possess a certain energy of soul which never missed the mark; nature in him had produced the same effects that study and philosophy do in others. But, what amazed me more than all, was to find this Scythian chief as well acquainted with the state and consequence of our manners, as if he had passed his life in Greece or Syria, instead of the plains and forests of his own domain. He entertained a rooted contempt for all the arts which softened the body and mind, under the pretence of adding to the elegancies of life; these, he said, were more efficacious agents to reduce men to slavery, than the swords and arrows of their enemies.

"'One day I remember that some of our principal men, judging of the mind of their conqueror by their own, brought to him a celebrated dancer; who, at that time, engaged the whole attention of our city, and seemed to interest it much more than the loss of liberty. This man, who did not doubt that he should enchant the soul of a Scythian barbarian, by the same arts which had enraptured his refined audiences at home, exerted himself with an agility that extorted the loudest applause from all the spectators but Arsaces. At length one of our countrymen took the liberty of asking the monarch what he thought of this extraordinary performance? 'I think,' replied he, coldly, 'that it would gain him great credit among a nation of monkeys.' Another time he was present at the exhibitions of a celebrated musician, who was reputed to possess unrivalled skill in playing soft and melting tunes upon the lyre. All the audience seemed to feel the influence of his art, by their inarticulate murmurs of admiration, and the languishing postures of their bodies. When the exhibition was finished, the musician advanced, amid the united plaudits of the audience, as if to receive the just tribute of approbation from Arsaces; but he, with a stern look, said to him, 'Friend, I permit thee to play every night before the Syrians; but if thy lyre is ever heard to sound in the presence of my Scythians, I denounce certain death for the offence.' Another time an officious glutton of our city introduced to him, with great solemnity, two men, whose talents he assured him were unequalled in their different professions. The one, he said, adjusted hair with such dexterity, that he could give an artificial beauty to every countenance; and the other possessed such unrivalled skill in cooking a repast, that even the soberest guest was tempted to commit intemperance. 'My soldiers,' replied Arsaces, 'are accustomed to adjust their locks with the point of their arrows, nor does our nation consider a bloated paunch and an unwieldy shape as any accomplishment in warriors; all therefore, that I can do for these gentlemen is, to depute one of them to comb my horse's tail, and the other to feed the hogs of the army.'

"'After I had conversed some time with this barbarian chief, who heard me with the greatest attention, the hour of refreshment for the army approached, and I was preparing to retire; but the general stopped me with a smile, and told me, I had already entertained him with the greatest hospitality, and that therefore it was just that I should stay and taste the Scythian food. A bit of dried flesh, which I afterwards found was that of a horse, some sour coagulated milk, with an infusion of certain herbs, thickened with a coarse kind of flour, were then brought in and placed upon the ground. I had learned, during my travels in different countries, to discard the false antipathies which so many nations entertain against the diet as well as manners of each other. Whatever is adapted to support life is proper for the food of man; habit will reconcile us to any kind of food; and he that can accustom himself to be the most easily contented, is happiest and best prepared for performing the duties of life. I therefore placed myself by the side of Arsaces, and fed without any visible repugnance upon the diet, which would have excited abhorrence in the minds of all my countrymen. With them it was a work of the greatest importance to settle the formalities of a meal; to contrive a new and poignant sauce, to combine contrary flavours in a pickle, to stimulate the jaded appetite to new exertions, till reason and everything human sank under the undigested mass of food, were reckoned the highest efforts of genius; even the magistrate did not blush to display a greater knowledge of cookery than of the laws; the debates of the senate itself were often suspended by the fear of losing a repast; and many of our generals prided themselves more on the arrangement of their tables, than the martial evolutions of their troops.

"'After we had eaten some time, Arsaces asked me what I thought of the Scythian method of living? 'To speak my sentiments,' said I, 'it is more formidable to your enemies than agreeable to your friends.' He smiled at my sincerity, and I departed; but from this hour he distinguished me with marks of peculiar favour, and admitted me to all his councils.

"'This envied mark of distinction gave me no other pleasure than as it sometimes enabled me to be useful to my unhappy countrymen, and mitigate the rigour of their conquerors. Indeed, while the great Arsaces lived, his love of justice and order was so great, that even the conquered were safe from all oppression; the peasant pursued his useful labours unterrified by the march of armies, or, unsolicited, brought the produce of his fields to a voluntary market; merchants from all the neighbouring nations crowded to our ports, attracted by the order and justice which were enforced in every part of Arsaces' dominions; and even the vanquished themselves, defended from oppression and protected in their possessions, considered the success of the Scythians rather as a salutary revolution than as a barbarian conquest.

"'Such was the pleasing prospect of affairs, when an unexpected disease, the consequence of unremitted exertions, put an end to the glorious life of our conqueror; and with him perished all hopes of safety or happiness of the Syrians. His authority alone was capable of restraining so many needy chieftains, so many victorious barbarians; the spirit of rapine and plunder so long represt, began now to spread through all the army; every officer was an independent tyrant, that ruled with despotic authority, and punished as rebellion the least opposition to his will. The fields were now ravaged, the cities plundered, the industrious peasants driven away like herds of cattle, to labour for the caprice of unfeeling masters, or sold in distant regions as slaves. Now it was that the miserable and harassed Syrians began to find that the riches which they so much esteemed, were but the causes of their ruin, instead of being instrumental to their safety. The poor, accustomed to hardship, have little to fear amid the vicissitudes of life; the brave can always find a refuge in their own valour; but all the bitterness of existence is reserved for those who have neither courage to defend what they most value, nor fortitude to bear the loss.

"'To increase the weight of our misfortunes, new tribes of barbarians, attracted by the success of their countrymen, issued from their deserts, and hastened to share the spoil. But rapine admits not faith or partnership; and it was not long before the vanquished beheld their conquerors animated by implacable rage against each other, and suffering in turn the violence and cruelties they had inflicted.

"'At length one of the principal officers of Arsaces, who is said originally to have descended from the mountain which you inhabit, was raised to empire by the successful efforts of his soldiers. He has already attacked and destroyed all his competitors, and assembled under his banners the remainder of their forces. Tigranes (for thus he is named) possesses all the courage and activity of Arsaces, but he is destitute of his generosity and clemency. His ambition is vast and boundless; he grasps at universal empire, and rejoices to scatter ruin and destruction in his way; he has already subjected all the maritime cities that derive their origin from Greece, together with the fertile plains of Syria. These mountains, inhabited by a bold and hardy race of men, now present a barrier to his enterprising spirit; and I am assured he already meditates the conquest. His soldiers are drawn together from every part, and nothing can escape their fury. In vain did I think myself safe in the humble obscurity of my cottage, and the reputed favour of the great Arsaces. Yesterday, a lawless band, not contented with destroying my harvest and plundering my little property, seized my daughter and me, and dragged us away in chains. What farther injuries, what farther insults we might have suffered, it is impossible to determine, since Heaven was pleased to effect our deliverance when we had least reason to expect it.'

"Such was the history of Chares, which Sophron and his family listened to with fixed attention. When he had finished, the father of Sophron again embraced the venerable stranger, and assured him of all the safety which their mountains could bestow. 'But,' added he, 'if so imminent a danger is near, it behoves us to consult for the general safety; let us assemble all our friends and neighbours, that they may consider whether life is of more consequence than liberty; and if they determine to retain that freedom which they have received from their ancestors, by what means it maybe best defended.' Sophron then immediately went out, and ascending a neighbouring rock, thus shouted out, in a voice that echoed over the neighbouring valleys: 'Arm, O ye inhabitants of Lebanon, and instantly meet in council; for a powerful invader is near, and threatens you with death or slavery!' This sound was instantly repeated by all who heard it; so that in a short time the intelligence was dispersed to the very confines of the country.

"It was not long before a numerous assembly was convened. The aged appeared with all the majestic dignity of wisdom and experience; their countenances, indeed, indicated the ravages of time, but temperance and exercise had preserved them from the loathsome diseases which grow on luxury and indolence. They were attended by their sons in all the pride of youth and vigour, who rushed along in arms, and seemed to breathe deliberate rage and unconquerable opposition. When they were all assembled on a spacious plain, Sophron rose, and with a becoming modesty, recited the adventures of the preceding night, and the alarming intelligence he had just received. He had scarcely finished before a general cry of indignation burst unanimously from the whole assembly. When it had a little subsided, a venerable old man, whose beard, white as the snow upon the summits of the mountains, reaching down to his middle, slowly arose, and leaning upon his staff, spoke thus:—'Ninety years have I tended my flocks amid these mountains, and during all that time I have never seen a human being who was bold enough to propose to the inhabitants of Lebanon that they should fear death more than infamy, or submit to the vassals of a tyrant.' At this a second cry, which seemed to rend the very heavens, was raised, and farther deliberation judged unnecessary, except upon the most effectual means of defence. For this purpose the aged and most experienced retired to a little distance to consult. They were not long in their deliberations; it was unanimously agreed that all who were able to bear arms should be embodied, and wait for the approach of the enemy, within the boundaries of their own mountains. The nature of the country, always rough, and in many parts inaccessible, would afford them, they thought, sufficient advantages even against the more numerous and better disciplined troops of the invader; and, by the common consent of all, Sophron was named the general of his country, and invested with supreme authority for its defence.

"When these measures had been resolved upon, the assembly dispersed, and Sophron was left alone with Chares. It was then the stranger thus accosted him with a deep sigh:—'Did success, O virtuous Sophron, depend entirely upon the justice of the cause, or upon the courage and zeal of its defenders, I should have little doubt concerning the event of the present contest, for I can truly say, that in all the various countries I have visited, my eyes have never seen a more martial race than I have this day beheld assembled; nor can I doubt that their sentiments correspond to their appearance; all, therefore, that can be effected by patience, activity, and dauntless courage, will be achieved by your countrymen in defence of their liberty; but war, unfortunately, is a trade where long experience frequently confers advantages which no intrepidity can balance. The troops which are now approaching have been for years inured to the practice of slaughter; they join to a courage which defies every danger, a knowledge of every fraud and subtility which can confound or baffle an adversary. In bodily strength, in numbers, your countrymen are superior; even in courage, and the contempt of danger, they are probably not inferior to their enemies; but such are the fatal effects of military skill and discipline, that I dread the event of a combat with such an army and such a leader.'

"'Alas!' answered Sophron, 'how well do the mature reflections of your wisdom accord with my presaging fears! I know that my countrymen will perform everything that can be effected by men in their situation, and that thousands will generously sacrifice their lives rather than abandon the cause they have undertaken to defend; yet, when I consider the superior advantage of our enemies, my fears are no less active than your own. This consolation, however, remains, that I shall either see my country victorious, or avoid the miseries which will attend her ruin.'

"'Hear me, then,' replied Chares. 'The virtues of your friends, my own obligations to yourself, and the desire I feel to oppose the career of mad ambition, conspire to wrest from me a dreadful secret, which I have hitherto buried in my own bosom, and had determined to conceal from the knowledge of mankind. I have already told you that much of my life has been dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge, and the investigation of the laws of nature. Not contented with viewing the appearance of things as they strike our senses, I have endeavoured to penetrate into the deeper recesses of nature, and to discover those secrets which are concealed from the greater part of mankind. For this purpose I have tried innumerable experiments concerning the manner in which bodies act upon each other; I have submitted the plants, the stones, the minerals, which surround us, to the violence of all-consuming fires; I have examined their structure, and the different principles which compose them, with the patient labour and perseverance of a long life. In the course of these inquiries I have made many curious and important discoveries, but one above the rest, which I will now impart under the promise of eternal and inviolable secrecy. Know, then, that I have found out an easy and expeditious combination of common materials, the effect of which is equal or superior to the most potent and destructive agents in nature. Neither the proudest city can maintain its walls, nor the strongest castle its bulwarks, against the irresistible attacks of this extraordinary composition. Increase but the quantity, and the very rocks and mountains will be torn asunder with a violence that equals that of earthquakes. Whole armies, proud of their triumphs, may be in an instant scattered and destroyed like the summer's dust before the whirlwind; and, what increases the prodigy, a single man may securely give death to thousands. This composition I have hitherto concealed, in pity to the miseries of mankind; but since there appears no other method of preserving the virtuous inhabitants of these mountains from slavery and ruin, I am determined to employ it in their defence. Give orders, therefore, that a certain number of your countrymen provide me with the ingredients that I shall indicate, and expect the amplest success from your own valour, assisted by such powerful auxiliaries.'

"Sophron said everything to Chares which such an unexpected mark of confidence deserved, and instantly received his orders, and prepared to execute them with the greatest alacrity. Chares, meanwhile, was indefatigable in the execution of his project; and it was not long before he had prepared a sufficient quantity to provide for the common defence.

"Tigranes now approached with the rage and confidence of a lion that invades a flock of domestic animals. He had long forgotten all the ties which attach men to the place of their birth; and neither time nor distance had been able to extinguish the hatred he had conceived to Sophron. Scarcely did he deign to send an ambassador before his army; he, however, despatched one with an imperious message, requiring all the inhabitants of Lebanon to submit to his victorious arms, or threatening them with the worst extremities of war.

"When the ambassador returned, and reported the fixed determination of Sophron and his countrymen, he was inflamed with rage, and ordered his army to advance to the attack. They marched without opposition till they entered the mountainous districts, where all the bravest inhabitants were ranged in arms to meet the invader. Then arose the noise of arms; then man encountered man, and wounds and death were seen on every side. The troops of Tigranes advanced in close array with long protended spears; the inhabitants of Lebanon were more lightly armed, and, with invincible courage, endeavoured to break the formidable battalion of their enemies. They rushed with fury upon the dreadful range of weapons, and, even wounded and dying, endeavoured to beat down their points, and open a way to their companions.

"Sophron was seen conspicuous in every part of the field, encouraging his companions with his voice, and more by his actions. Wherever he turned his steps he was followed by the bravest youth of his party, and there the efforts and the slaughter were always greatest. Five times, covered with blood and dust, he made a desperate charge upon the troops of Tigranes, and five times did he force his bravest soldiers to give ground. At length the superiority of discipline and experience began to prevail over the generous but more unequal efforts of the defenders. The veterans of Tigranes perceived their advantage, and pressed the enemy with redoubled vigour.

"This was the decisive moment which Chares had foreseen and provided for; in an instant the bands of Lebanon retreated, by the orders of Sophron, with a precipitation bordering upon flight. Tigranes, supposing himself certain of victory, orders his troops to advance, and decide the fortune of the battle; but while they are rashly preparing to obey, a sudden noise is heard that equals the loudest thunders; the earth itself trembles with a convulsive motion under their feet, then bursts asunder with a violence that nothing can resist! Hundreds are in an instant swallowed up, or dashed against rocks, and miserably destroyed! Meanwhile all nature seems to be convulsed around; the rocks themselves are torn from their solid base, and, with their enormous fragments, crush whole bands of miserable wretches beneath! Clouds of smoke obscure the field of battle, and veil the combatants in a dreadful shade, which is from time to time dispelled by flashes of destructive fire! Such a succession of horrors daunted even the most brave; scarcely could the troops of Lebanon, who had been prepared to expect some extraordinary interposition, maintain their post, or behold the spectacle of their enemy's ruin; but the bands of Tigranes were struck with the wildest consternation, and fled with trembling steps over the field. And now these prodigies were succeeded by an awful interval of quiet; the peals of bursting thunder were no longer heard, the lightnings ceased to flash, the mists that darkened the scene were rolled away, and discovered the various fortunes of the fight, when the voice of Sophron was heard, exhorting his companions to pursue the fugitives and complete their victory. They rushed forward like angry lions to the chase, but all resistance was at an end; and Sophron, who now perceived that the enemy was irretrievably broken, checked the ardour of his men, and entreated them to spare the vanquished. They obeyed his voice; and, after having chased them beyond the utmost boundaries of Lebanon, returned in triumph amid the praises and acclamations of their joyful families, whom they had preserved from slavery by their valour. They then examined the field of battle, and collecting all who had any remains of life, they treated them with the greatest humanity, binding up their wounds, and administering to all their necessities.

"Among the thickest dead was found the breathless body of Tigranes, miserably shattered and disfigured, but still exhibiting evident marks of passion and ferocity. Sophron could not behold, without compassion, the friend of his early years, and the companion of his youthful sports. 'Unhappy man,' said he, 'thou hast at length paid the price of thy ungovernable ambition! How much better would it have been to have tended thy flocks upon the mountains, than to have blazed an angry meteor, and set for ever amid the curses of thy country.' He then covered the body with a military vest, and ordered it to be honourably burned upon a mighty funeral-pile which was prepared for all the dead.

"The next day an immense quantity of spoil was collected, that had been abandoned by the troops of Tigranes in their flight. The simple inhabitants of Lebanon, the greater part of whom had never been beyond the limits of their mountains, were astonished at such a display of luxury and magnificence. Already the secret poison of sensuality and avarice began to inflame their hearts, as they gazed on costly hangings, enriched with gold and silver, on Persian carpets, and drinking-vessels of the most exquisite workmanship; already had they begun to differ about the division of these splendid trifles, when Sophron, who marked the growing mischief, and remembered the fatal effects which Chares had described in his travels, rose, and proposed to his countrymen that the arms of their conquered enemies should be carefully preserved for the public defence, but that all the rest of the spoil should be consumed upon the funeral-pile prepared for the dead, lest the simplicity of the inhabitants of Lebanon should be corrupted, and the happy equality and union, which had hitherto prevailed among them, be interrupted. This proposal was instantly applauded by all the older and wiser part of the assembly, who rejoiced in seeing the evils averted which they had so much reason to apprehend; nor did those of a different character dare to express their sentiments, or attempt any open opposition.

"From this time Sophron was universally honoured by all as the most virtuous and valiant of his nation. He passed the rest of his life in peace and tranquillity, contented with the exercise of the same rural employments which had engaged his childhood. Chares, whose virtues and knowledge were equally admirable, was presented, at the public expense, with a small but fertile tract of land, sufficient to supply him with all the comforts of life. This the grateful inhabitants of the mountains continually cultivated for him as a memorial of the signal assistance he had afforded them; and here, contented with the enjoyment of security and freedom, he passed the remaining part of his life in the contemplation of nature and the delightful intercourse of virtuous friendship."

When Miss Simmons had finished, Tommy expressed his astonishment at the latter part of the story. "Is it possible," said he, "there can be anything of so extraordinary a nature as to burst the very rocks asunder, and destroy an army at once?" "Have you, then, never heard the explosion of a gun, or are you ignorant of the destructive effects of the powder with which they charge it?" said Mr Barlow.

Tommy.—Yes, sir; but that is nothing to what Chares did in the story.

Mr Barlow.—That is only because it is used in very inconsiderable portions; but were you to increase the quantity, it would be capable of effecting everything which you heard Miss Simmons describe. When nations are at war with each other, it is now universally the agent of destruction. They have large tubes of iron, called cannons, into which they ram a considerable quantity of powder, together with a large iron ball, as big as you are able to lift. They then set fire to the powder, which explodes with so much violence, that the ball flies out and destroys not only every living thing it meets with, but even demolishes the strongest walls that can be raised. Sometimes it is buried in considerable quantities in the earth, and then they contrive to inflame it, and to escape in time. When the fire communicates with the mass, it is all inflamed in an instant, and produces the horrible effects you have heard described. As such are the irresistible effects of gunpowder, it is no wonder that even a victorious army should be stopped in their progress by such a dreadful and unexpected event.

Tommy.—That is true, indeed; and I declare Chares was a very good and sensible man. Had it not been for him, these brave inhabitants of Lebanon must have been enslaved. I now plainly perceive that a man may be of much more consequence by improving his mind in various kinds of knowledge, even though he is poor, than by all the finery and magnificence he can acquire. I wish, with all my heart, that Mr Barlow had been so good as to read this story to the young gentlemen and ladies that were lately here; I think it would have made a great impression upon their minds, and would have prevented their feeling so much contempt for poor Harry, who is better and wiser than them all, though he does not powder his hair or dress so genteelly.

"Tommy," said Mr Merton, with a kind of contemptuous smile, "why should you believe that the hearing of a single story would change the characters of all your late friends, when neither the good instructions you have been so long receiving from Mr Barlow, nor the intimacy you have had with Harry, were sufficient to restrain your impetuous temper, or prevent you from treating him in the shameful manner you have done?"

Tommy appeared very much abashed with his father's rebuke. He hung down his head in silence a considerable time; at length he faintly said, "Oh, sir, I have indeed acted very ill; I have rendered myself unworthy the affection of all my best friends; but do not, pray do not give me up entirely. You shall see how I will behave for the future; and if ever I am guilty of the same faults again, I consent that you shall abandon me for ever." Saying this, he silently stole out of the room, as if intent upon some extraordinary resolution. His father observed his motions, and smiling, said to Mr Barlow, "What can this portend? This boy is changeable as a weathercock; every blast whirls him round and round upon his centre, nor will he ever fix, I fear, in any direction." "At least," replied Mr Barlow, "you have the greatest reason to rejoice in his present impressions, which are good and estimable; and I fear it is the lot of most human beings to exhaust almost every species of error before they fix in truth and virtue."

Tommy now entered the room, but with a remarkable change in his dress and manner. He had combed the powder out of his hair, and demolished the elegance of his curls; he had divested his dress of every appearance of finery; and even his massy and ponderous buckles, so long the delight of his heart and the wonder of his female friends, were taken from his shoes, and replaced by a pair of the plainest form and appearance. In this habiliment he appeared so totally changed from what he was, that even his mother, who had lately become a little sparing of her observations, could not help exclaiming, "What, in the name of wonder, has the boy been doing now? Why, Tommy, I protest you have made yourself a perfect fright, and you look more like a ploughboy than a young gentleman."

"Mamma," answered Tommy, gravely, "I am now only what I ought always to have been. Had I been contented with this dress before, I never should have imitated such a parcel of coxcombs as you have lately had at your house, nor pretended to admire Miss Matilda's music, which, I own, tired me as much as Harry, and had almost set me asleep; nor should I have exposed myself at the play and the ball; and, what is worst of all, I should have avoided all my shameful behaviour to Harry at the bull-baiting. But from this time I shall apply myself to the study of nothing but reason and philosophy, and therefore I have bid adieu to dress and finery for ever."

It was with great difficulty that the gentlemen could refrain from laughing at Tommy's harangue, delivered with infinite seriousness and solemnity; they, however, concealed their emotions, and encouraged him to persevere in such a laudable resolution; but as the night was now pretty far advanced, the whole family retired to bed.

The next morning early, Tommy arose, and dressed himself with his newly-adopted simplicity, and, as soon as breakfast was over, prevailed with Mr Barlow to accompany him to Harry Sandford's; but he did not forget to take with him the lamb, which he had caressed and fed with constant assiduity ever since he had so valiantly rescued him from his devouring enemy. As they approached the house, the first object which Tommy distinguished was his little friend at some distance, who was driving his father's sheep along the common. At this sight his impetuosity could no longer be restrained, and, springing forward with all his speed, he arrived in an instant panting and out of breath, and incapable of speaking. Harry, who knew his friend, and plainly perceived the disposition with which he approached, met him with open arms, so that the reconciliation was begun and completed in a moment; and Mr Barlow, who now arrived with the lamb, had the pleasure of seeing his little pupils mutually giving and receiving every unaffected mark of the warmest affection.

"Harry," said Mr Barlow, "I bring you a little friend who is sincerely penitent for his offences, and comes to own the faults he has committed." "That I am indeed," said Tommy, a little recovered, and able to speak; "but I have behaved so ill, and been such an ungrateful fellow, that I am afraid Harry will never be able to forgive me." "Indeed, indeed," said Harry, "there you do me the greatest injustice, for I have already forgotten everything but your former kindness and affection." "And I," answered Tommy, "will never forget how ill, how ungratefully I have used you, nor the goodness with which you now receive me." Tommy then recollected his lamb, and presented it to his friend, while Mr Barlow told him the story of its rescue, and the heroism exerted in its defence. Harry seemed to receive equal pleasure from the restoration of his favourite, and the affection Tommy had shown in its preservation; and, taking him by the hand, he led him into a small but neat and convenient house, where he was most cordially welcomed by Harry's family.

In a corner of the chimney sat the honest Black, who had performed so signal a service at the bull-baiting. "Alas!" said Tommy, "there is another instance of my negligence and ingratitude; I now see that one fault brings on another without end." Then advancing to the Black, he took him kindly by the hand, and thanked him for the preservation of his life. "Little master," replied he, "you are extremely welcome to all I have done; I would at any time risk my own safety to preserve one of my fellow-creatures; and if I have been of any use, I have been amply repaid by the kindness of this little boy, your friend, and all his worthy family." "That is not enough," said Tommy, "and you shall soon find what it is to oblige a person like——(here a stroke of presumption was just coming out of Tommy's mouth, but, recollecting himself, he added) a person like my father." And now he addressed himself to Harry's mother, a venerable, decent woman of middle age, and his two sisters, plain, modest, healthy-looking girls, a little older than their brother. All these he treated with so much cordiality and attention that all the company were delighted with him; so easy is it for those who possess rank and fortune to gain the goodwill of their fellow-creatures, and so inexcusable is that surly pride which renders many of them deservedly odious.

When dinner was ready he sat down with the rest; and as it was the custom here for everybody to wait upon himself, Tommy insisted upon their suffering him to conform to the established method. The food, indeed, was not very delicate, but it was wholesome, clean, and served up hot to table,—an advantage which is not always found in elegant apartments. Tommy ate with a considerable appetite, and seemed to enjoy his new situation as much as if he had never experienced any other. After the dinner was removed, he thought he might with propriety gratify the curiosity he felt to converse with the Black upon fighting bulls, for nothing had more astonished him than the account he had heard of his courage, and the ease with which he had subdued so terrible an animal. "My friend," said he, "I suppose in your own country you have been very much used to bull-baitings, otherwise you would never have dared to encounter such a fierce creature. I must confess, though I can tame most animals, I never was more frightened in my life than when I saw him break loose; and without your assistance, I do not know what would have become of me."

"Master," replied the Black, "it is not in my own country that I have learned to manage these animals. There I have been accustomed to several kinds of hunting much more dangerous than this; and considering how much you white people despise us blacks, I own I was very much surprised to see so many hundreds of you running away from such an insignificant enemy as a poor tame bull."

Tommy blushed a little at the remembrance of the prejudices he had formerly entertained concerning blacks and his own superiority; but not choosing now to enter upon the subject, he asked the man where then he had acquired so much dexterity in taming them?

"I will tell you, master," replied the Black. "When I lived a slave among the Spaniards at Buenos Ayres, it used to be a common employment of the people to go into the woods to hunt cattle down for their subsistence. The hunter mounts his fleetest horse, and takes with him a strong cord of a considerable length; when he sees one of the wild kind which he destines for his prey, he pursues it at full speed, and never fails to overtake it by the superior swiftness of his horse. While he is thus employed, he holds the cord ready, at the end of which a sliding noose is formed, and when he is at a convenient distance, throws it from him with such a certain hand, that the beast is entangled by one of his legs, after which it is impossible for him to escape.

"That you may form a more clear idea of what a man is capable of executing with courage and address, I will relate a most extraordinary incident to which I was witness during my residence in that part of the world. A certain man, a native of the country, had committed some offence, for which he was condemned to labour several years in the galleys. He found means to speak to the governor of the town, and besought him to change the nature of his punishment. 'I have been brought up,' said he, 'a warrior, and fear dishonour, but not death. Instead of consuming my strength and spirits in such an ignominious employment, let me have an opportunity of achieving something worthy to be beheld, or of perishing like a brave man in the attempt. In a few days a solemn feast is to be celebrated, at which you will not fail to be present, attended by all your people. I will there, in the presence of the whole city, encounter the fiercest bull you can procure. I desire no assistance but my horse, no weapons but this cord; yet, thus prepared, I will meet his fury, and take him by the head, the horns, the feet, as you shall direct. I will then throw him down, bridle him, saddle him, and vault upon his back; in this situation you shall turn out two more of the fiercest bulls you can find, and I will attack them both, and put them all to death with my dagger the instant you shall command.' The governor consented to this brave man's request, more from curiosity to see so extraordinary a spectacle, than from the opinion it would be attended with success.

"When the appointed day arrived the inhabitants of the city assembled, and took their seats in a vast building which surrounded a considerable open space destined for this amazing combat. The brave American then appeared alone on horseback, armed with nothing but his cord; and after riding round the place and saluting the company, he waited intrepidly for his enemy. Presently an enormous bull was let loose, who, as soon as he beheld the man, attacked him with all his fury. The American avoided his shock with infinite dexterity, and galloped round the bull, who, in his turn, betook himself to flight. The valiant horseman pursued his flying enemy; and while he was thus engaged, he desired the governor to direct where he would have him seized. He replied it was a matter of indifference to him; and the American, instantly throwing his noose, which he held ready all the time, caught the bull in his flight by one of his hinder legs; then, galloping two or three times round the animal, he so enveloped him in the snare, that, after a few violent efforts to disengage himself, he fell to the earth. He then leaped lightly from his horse; and the animal who had been perfectly trained up to this kind of combat, stood still, and kept the cord extended; while his master advanced to the bull, and put him to death in an instant, by stabbing him with his dagger behind the horns.

"All the assembly uttered a shout of admiration; but the conqueror told them, that what they had seen was nothing; and, disentangling his cord from the slaughtered beast, he composedly mounted his horse, and waited for a new and more formidable enemy. Presently the gate of the torillo was opened, and a bull, much more furious than the last, rushed out, whom he was ordered to bridle and saddle, according to his engagement."

"I protest," said Tommy, "this is the most wonderful story I ever heard. I do not believe all the fine gentleman I have ever seen, put together, would dare to attack such a bull."

"Master," replied the Black, "the talents of mankind are various; and nature has, in every country, furnished the human species with all the qualities necessary for their preservation. In this country, and many others which I have seen, there are thousands who live, like birds in cages, upon the food provided by others, without doing anything for themselves. But they should be contented with the happiness they enjoy (if such a life can be called happiness), and not despise their fellow-creatures, without whose continual assistance they could not exist an instant."

"Very true, indeed," answered Tommy; "you seem to be a very honest sensible man, though a negro; and since I have given myself up to the improvement of my mind, I entertain the same opinions. But let us hear how this brave man succeeded in his next attempt."

"When the champion perceived this second enemy approach, he waited for him with the same intrepidity he had discovered before, and avoided his formidable shock by making his horse wheel nimbly round the bull. When he had thus baffled his fury, and put his enemy to flight, he chased him some time, as he had done the former, till he drove him near to the middle of the enclosed space, where a strong post had been firmly fixed into the ground. As soon as he approached the spot he threw the unerring noose, and, catching the bull by the horns, entangled him as he had done before, and dragged him with some difficulty to the stake. To this he bound him down so closely, that it became impossible for the creature either to resist or stir. Leaping then from his horse, who remained immovable as before, he took a saddle, which had been left there on purpose, and girded it firmly on the back of the bull; through his nostrils he thrust an iron ring, to which was fixed a cord, which he brought over his neck as a bridle; and then arming his hand with a short spike, he nimbly vaulted upon the back of this new and terrible courser.

"The creature all this time did not cease to bellow with every expression of rage, which had not the least effect upon the mind of this valiant man; on the contrary, coolly taking a knife, he cut the cord which bound him to the stake, and restored him to perfect liberty. The creature, thus disengaged, exerted every effort of strength and fury to throw his rider, who kept his seat undaunted in spite of all his violent agitation. The gates of the torillo were then thrown open, and two other furious bulls rushed out, and seemed ready to attack the man; but at the instant they perceived the manner in which he was mounted, their rage gave way to terror, and they fled precipitately away. The other bull followed his companions, and bore his rider several times round the amphitheatre in this extraordinary chase. This spectacle had already lasted some time, to the admiration of all present, when the governor ordered the man to complete the business by putting all the bulls to death. He, instantly drawing his knife, plunged it behind the horns of the bull on which he rode, who immediately dropped down dead; while the conqueror, disengaging himself as he fell, stood upright by the slaughtered animal. He then mounted his horse again, who had been placed in safety at some little distance; and, pursuing the chase as before, with his fatal noose, despatched both the surviving animals without the least difficulty."

Tommy expressed the greatest admiration at this recital; and now, as the evening began to advance, Mr Barlow invited him to return. But Tommy, instead of complying, took him by the hand, thanked him for all his kindness and attention, but declared his resolution of staying some time with his friend Harry. "The more I consider my own behaviour," said he "the more I feel myself ashamed of my folly and ingratitude; but you have taught me, my dear sir, that all I have in my power is to acknowledge them, which I most willingly do before all this good family, and entreat Harry to think that the impressions I now feel are such as I shall never forget." Harry embraced his friend, and assured him once more of his being perfectly reconciled; and all the family stood mute with admiration at the condescension of the young gentleman, who was not ashamed of acknowledging his faults even to his inferiors.

Mr Barlow approved of Tommy's design, and took upon him to answer for the consent of Mr Merton to his staying some time with Harry; then, taking his leave of all the company, he departed.

But Tommy began now to enter upon a course of life which was very little consistent with his former habits. He supped with great cheerfulness, and even found himself happy with the rustic fare which was set before him, accompanied, as it was, with unaffected civility and a hearty welcome. He went to bed early, and slept very soundly all night; however, when Harry came to call him the next morning at five, as he had made him promise to do, he found a considerable difficulty in rousing himself at the summons. Conscious pride, however, and the newly-acquired dignity of his character, supported him; he recollected that he should disgrace himself in the eyes of his father, of Mr Barlow, and of all the family with which he now was, if he appeared incapable of acting up to his own declarations; he therefore made a noble effort, leaped out of bed, dressed himself, and followed Harry. Not contented with this, he accompanied him in all his rustic employments; and as no kind of country exercise was entirely new to him since his residence with Mr Barlow, he acquitted himself with a degree of dexterity that gained him new commendations.

Thus did he pass the first day of his visit, with some little difficulty indeed, but without deviating from his resolution; the second, he found his change of life infinitely more tolerable, and in a very little space of time he was almost reconciled to his new situation. The additional exercise he used improved his health and strength, and added so considerably to his appetite that he began to think the table of farmer Sandford exceeded all that he had ever tried before.

By thus practising the common useful occupations of life, he began to feel a more tender interest in the common concerns of his fellow-creatures. He now found, from his own experience, that Mr Barlow had not deceived him in the various representations he had made of the utility of the lower classes, and consequently of the humanity which is due to them when they discharge their duty. Nor did that gentleman abandon his little friend in this important trial; he visited him frequently, pointed out everything that was curious or interesting about the farm, and encouraged him to persevere by his praises.

"You are now," said Mr Barlow, one day, "beginning to practise those virtues which have rendered the great men of other times so justly famous. It is not by sloth, nor finery, nor the mean indulgence of our appetites, that greatness of character, or even reputation, is to be acquired. He that would excel others in virtue or knowledge, must first excel them in temperance and application. You cannot imagine that men, fit to command an army, or to give laws to a state, were ever formed by an idle and effeminate education. When the Roman people, oppressed by their enemies, were looking out for a leader able to defend them, and change the fortune of the war, where did they seek for this extraordinary man? It was neither at banquets, nor in splendid palaces, nor amid the gay, the elegant, or the dissipated; they turned their steps towards a poor and solitary cottage, such as the meanest of your late companions would consider with contempt; there they found Cincinnatus (whose virtues and abilities were allowed to excel all the rest of his citizens) turning up the soil with a pair of oxen, and holding the plough himself. This great man had been inured to arms and the management of public affairs even from his infancy; he had repeatedly led the Roman legions to victory, yet, in the hour of peace, or when his country did not require his services, he deemed no employment more honourable than to labour for his own subsistence.

"What would all your late friends have said, to see the greatest men in England, and the bravest officers of the army, crowding round the house of one of those obscure farmers you have been accustomed to despise, and entreating him in the most respectful language to leave his fields and accept of the highest dignity in the government or army? Yet this was actually the state of things at Rome; and it was characters like these, with all the train of severe and rugged virtues, which elevated that people above all the other nations of the world. And tell me, my little friend, since chance, not merit, too frequently allots the situation in which men are to act, had you rather, in a high station, appear to all mankind unworthy of the advantages you enjoy, or, in a low one, seem equal to the most exalted employments by your virtues and abilities?"

Such were the conversations which Mr Barlow frequently held with Tommy, and which never failed to inspire him with new resolution to persevere. Nor could he help being frequently affected by the comparison of Harry's behaviour with his own. No cloud seemed ever to shade the features of his friend, or alter the uniform sweetness of his temper; even the repeated provocations he had received were either totally obliterated or had made no disagreeable impressions. After discharging the necessary duties of the day, he gave up the rest of his time to the amusement of Tommy with so much zeal and affection that he could not help loving him a thousand times better than before.

During the evening, too, Tommy frequently conversed with the honest negro concerning the most remarkable circumstances of the country where he was born. One night that he seemed peculiarly inquisitive, the Black gave him the following account of himself:—

"I was born," said he, "in the neighbourhood of the river Gambia in Africa. In this country people are astonished at my colour, and start at the sight of a black man, as if he did not belong to their species; but there everybody resembles me, and when the first white men landed upon our coast, we were as much surprised with their appearance as you can be with ours. In some parts of the world I have seen men of a yellow hue, in others of a copper colour; and all have the foolish vanity to despise their fellow-creatures as infinitely inferior to themselves. There, indeed, they entertain these conceits from ignorance, but in this country, where the natives pretend to superior reason, I have often wondered they could be influenced by such a prejudice. Is a black horse thought to be inferior to a white one in speed, in strength, or courage? Is a white cow thought to give more milk, or a white dog to have a more acute scent in pursuing the game? On the contrary, I have generally found, in almost every country, that a pale colour in animals is considered as a mark of weakness and inferiority. Why then should a certain race of men imagine themselves superior to the rest, for the very circumstance they despise in other animals?

"But, in the country where I was born, it is not only man that differs from what we see here, but every other circumstance. Here, for a considerable part of the year you are chilled by frosts and snows, and scarcely behold the presence of the sun, during that gloomy season which is called the winter. With us, the sun is always present, pouring out light and heat, and scorching us with his fiercest beams. In my country we know no difference between the length of nights and days; all are of equal length throughout the year, and present not that continual variety which you see here; we have neither ice, nor frost, nor snow; the trees never lose their leaves, and we have fruits in every season of the year. During several months, indeed, we are scorched by unremitting heats, which parch the ground, dry up the rivers, and afflict both men and animals with intolerable thirst. In that season you may behold lions, tigers, elephants, and a variety of other ferocious animals, driven from their dark abodes in the midst of impenetrable forests, down to the lower grounds and the sides of rivers; every night we hear their savage yells, their cries of rage, and think ourselves scarcely safe in our cottages. In this country you have reduced all other animals to subjection, and have nothing to fear, except from each other. You even shelter yourselves from the injuries of the weather, in mansions that seem calculated to last for ever, in impenetrable houses of brick and stone, that would have scarcely anything to fear from the whole animal creation; but, with us, a few reeds twisted together, and perhaps daubed over with slime or mud, compose the whole of our dwelling. Yet the innocent negro would sleep as happy and contented as you do in your palaces, provided you do not drag him by fraud and violence away, and force him to endure all the excesses of your cruelty.

"It was in one of these cottages that I first remembered anything of myself. A few stakes set in the ground, and interwoven with dry leaves, covered at top with the spreading leaves of the palm, composed our dwelling. Our furniture consisted of three or four earthen pipkins, in which our food was dressed; a few mats woven with a silky kind of grass to serve as beds; the instruments with which my mother turned the ground, and the javelin, arrows, and lines which my father used in fishing or the chase. In this country, and many others where I have been, I observe that nobody thinks himself happy till he has got together a thousand things which he does not want, and can never use; you live in houses so big that they are fit to contain an army; you cover yourselves with superfluous clothes that restrain all the motions of your bodies; when you want to eat, you must have meat enough served up to nourish a whole village; yet I have seen poor famished wretches starving at your gate, while the master had before him at least a hundred times as much as he could consume. We negroes, whom you treat as savages, have different manners and different opinions. The first thing that I can remember of myself, was the running naked about such a cottage as I have described, with four of my little brothers and sisters. I have observed your children here with astonishment; as soon as they are born, it seems to be the business of all about them to render them weak, helpless, and unable to use any of their limbs; the little negro, on the contrary is scarcely born before he learns to crawl about upon the ground. Unrestrained by bandages or ligatures, he comes as soon and as easily to the perfect use of all his organs as any of the beasts which surround him; before your children here are taught to venture themselves upon their feet, he has the perfect use of his, and can follow his mother in her daily labours.

"This, I remember, was my own case. Sometimes I used to go with my mother to the field, where all the women of the village were assembled to plant rice for their subsistence. The joyful songs which they used to sing, amid their toils, delighted my infant ear, and when their daily task was done, they danced together under the shade of spreading palms. In this manner did they raise the simple food which was sufficient for themselves and their children; yams, a root resembling your potato, Indian corn, and, above all, rice: to this were added the fruits which nature spontaneously produced in our woods, and the produce of the chase and fishing. Yet with this we are as much contented as you are with all your splendid tables, and enjoy a greater share of health and strength. As soon as the fiery heat of the sun declined, you might behold the master of every cottage reposing before his own door, and feasting upon his mess of roots or fruits, with all his family around him. If a traveller or stranger happened to come from a distant country, he was welcome to enter into every house, and share the provisions of the family; no door was barred against his entrance, no surly servant insulted him for his poverty; he entered wherever he pleased, set himself down with the family, and then pursued his journey, or reposed himself in quiet till the next morning. In each of our towns there is generally a large building, where the elder part of the society are accustomed to meet in the shade of the evening, and converse upon a variety of subjects. The young and vigorous divert themselves with dances and other pastimes, and the children of different ages amuse themselves with a thousand sports and gambols adapted to their age; some aim their little arrows at marks, or dart their light and blunted javelins at each other, to form themselves for the exercises of war and the chase; others wrestle naked upon the sand, or run in sportive races with a degree of activity which I have never seen among the Europeans, who pretend to be our masters.

"I have described to you the building of our houses; simple as they are, they answer every purpose of human life, and every man is his own architect. A hundred or two of these edifices compose our towns, which are generally surrounded by lofty hedges of thorns, to secure us from the midnight attacks of wild beasts, with only a single entrance, which is carefully closed at night"——

"You talk," said Tommy, "of wild beasts; pray, have you many in your country?"

"Yes, master," said the Black, "we have them of many sorts, equally dreadful and ferocious. First, we have the lion, which I daresay you have heard of, and perhaps seen. He is bigger than the largest mastiff, and infinitely stronger and more fierce; his paws alone are such that, with a single blow, he is able to knock down a man, and almost every other animal; but these paws are armed with claws so sharp and dreadful that nothing can resist their violence. When he roars, every beast of the forest betakes himself to flight, and even the boldest hunter can scarcely hear it without dismay. Sometimes the most valiant of our youth assemble in bands, arm themselves with arrows and javelins, and go to the chase of these destructive animals. When they have found his retreat, they generally make a circle round, uttering shouts and cries, and clashing their arms, to rouse him to resistance. The lion, meanwhile, looks round upon his assailants with indifference or contempt; neither their number, nor their horrid shouts, nor the glitter of their radiant arms, can daunt him for an instant. At length he begins to lash his sides with his long and nervous tail—a certain sign of rising rage—his eyes sparkle with destructive fires; and if the number of the hunters is very great, he perhaps moves slowly on. But this he is not permitted to do; a javelin thrown at him from behind wounds him in the flank, and compels him to turn. Then you behold him roused to fury and desperation: neither wounds, nor streaming blood, nor a triple row of barbed spears, can prevent him from springing upon the daring Black who has wounded him. Should he reach him in the attack, it is certain death; but generally the hunter, who is at once contending for glory and his own life, and is inured to danger, avoids him by a nimble leap; and all his companions hasten to his assistance. Thus is the lion pressed and wounded on every side; his rage is ineffectual, and only exhausts his strength the faster; a hundred wounds are pouring out his blood at once; and at length he bites the ground in the agonies of death, and yields the victory, though unconquered. When he is dead, he is carried back in triumph by the hunters, as a trophy of their courage. All the village rushes out at once; the young, the old, women and children, uttering joyful shouts, and praising the valour of their champions. The elders admire his prodigious size, his mighty limbs, his dreadful fangs, and perhaps repeat tales of their own exploits; the women seem to tremble at their fierce enemy, even in his death, while the men compel their children to approach the monster and tinge their little weapons in his blood. All utter joyful exclamations, and feasts are made in every house, to which the victors are invited as the principal guests. These are intended at once to reward those who have performed so gallant an achievement, and to encourage a spirit of enterprise in the rest of the nation."

"What a dreadful kind of hunting must this be!" said Tommy; "but I suppose if any one meets a lion alone, it is impossible to resist him."

"Not always," answered the Black: "I will tell you what I once was witness to myself. My father was reckoned not only the most skilful hunter, but one of the bravest of our tribe; innumerable are the wild beasts which have fallen beneath his arm. One evening, when the inhabitants of the whole village were assembled at their sports and dances, a monstrous lion, allured, I suppose, by the smell of human flesh, burst unexpectedly upon them, without warning them of his approach by roaring, as he commonly does. As they were unarmed, and unprepared for defence, all but my father instantly fled, trembling, to their huts; but he, who had never yet turned his back upon any beast of the forest, drew from his side a kind of knife or dagger, which he constantly wore, and, placing one knee and one hand upon the ground, waited the approach of his terrible foe. The lion instantly rushed upon him with a fury not to be described; but my father received him upon the point of his weapon with so steady and so composed an aim, that he buried it several inches in his belly. The beast attacked him a second time, and a second time received a dreadful wound, not, however without laying bare one of my father's sides with a sudden stroke of his claws. The rest of the village then rushed in, and had soon despatched the lion with innumerable wounds.

"This exploit appeared so extraordinary that it spread my father's fame throughout the whole country, and gave him the name of the undaunted hunter, as an honourable distinction from the neighbourhood. Under such a parent it was not long before I was taught every species of the chase. At first my father only suffered me to pursue stags and other feeble animals, or took me in his canoe to fish. Soon, however, I was intrusted with a bow and arrows, and placed with many other children and young men to defend our rice-fields from the depredations of the river-horse. Rice (it is necessary to observe) is a plant that requires great moisture in the soil; all our plantations, therefore, are made by the side of rivers, in the soft fertile soil which is overflowed in the rainy season. But when the grain is almost ripe, we are forced to defend it from a variety of hurtful animals, that would otherwise deprive us of the fruits of our labours; among these one of the principal is the animal I have mentioned. His size and bulk are immense, being twice the bigness of the largest ox which I have seen in this country: he has four legs, which are short and thick; a head of a monstrous magnitude, and jaws that are armed with teeth of a prodigious size and strength; besides two prominent tusks, which threaten destruction to all assailants.

"But this animal, though so large and strong, is chiefly an inhabitant of the river, where he lives upon fish and water-roots. It is sometimes a curious but a dreadful sight, when a boat is gliding over a smooth part of the stream of unusual depth and clearness, to look down and behold this monstrous creature travelling along the bottom several yards below the surface. Whenever this happens, the boatman instantly paddles another way; for such is the strength of the creature, that he is able to overset a bark of moderate size by rising under it, or to tear out a plank with his fangs, and expose those who are in it to the dangers of an unexpected shipwreck. All the day he chiefly hides himself in the water, and preys upon fish; but during the gloom of night he issues from the river, and invades the fields of standing corn, which he would soon lay desolate, were he not driven back by the shouts and cries of those who are stationed to defend them.

"At this work I had assisted several successive nights, till we were almost wearied with watching. At length one of the most enterprising of our young men proposed that we should no longer content ourselves with driving back the enemy, but boldly attack him, and punish him for his temerity. With this purpose we concealed ourselves in a convenient spot, till we had seen one of the river-horses issue from the water, and advance a considerable way into our plantations; then we rushed from our hiding-place with furious shouts and cries, and endeavoured to intercept his return; but the beast, confiding in his superior strength, advanced slowly on, snarling horribly, and gnashing his dreadful tusks; and in this manner he opened his way through the thickest of our battalions. In vain we poured upon him on every side our darts and arrows, and every missive weapon; so well defended was he in an impenetrable hide, that every weapon either rebounded as from a wall, or glanced aside without in the least annoying. At length one of the boldest of our youth advanced unguardedly upon him, and endeavoured to wound him from a shorter distance; but the furious beast rushed upon him with an unexpected degree of swiftness, ripped up his body with a single stroke of his enormous tusk, and then, seizing him in his furious jaws, lifted up his mangled body as if in triumph, and crushed him into a bleeding and promiscuous mass.

"Fear instantly seized upon our company; all involuntarily retreated, and seemed inclined to quit the unequal combat; all but myself, who, inflamed with grief and rage for the loss of my companion, determined either to revenge his death or perish in the attempt. Seeing, therefore, that it was in vain to attack the animal in the usual manner, I chose the sharpest arrow, and fitted it to the bowstring; then, with a cool unterrified aim, observing him moving nimbly into the river, I discharged it full at his broad and glaring eye-ball with such success, that the barbed point penetrated even to his brain, and the monster fell expiring to the ground.

"This action, magnified beyond its deserts, gained me universal applause throughout the hamlet; I was from that time looked upon as one of the most valiant and fortunate of our youth. The immense body of the monster which I had slain was cut to pieces, and borne in triumph to the village. All the young women received me with songs of joy and congratulations; the young men adopted me as their leader in every hazardous expedition; and the elders applauded me with such expressions of esteem as filled my ignorant heart with vanity and exultation.

"But what was more agreeable to me than all the rest, my father received me with transport, and, pressing me to his bosom with tears of joy, told me that now he could die with pleasure, since I had exceeded his most sanguine expectations. 'I,' said he, 'have not lived inactive or inglorious; I have transfixed the tiger with my shafts; I have, though alone, attacked the lion in his rage, the terror of the woods, the fiercest of animals; even the elephant has been compelled to turn his back and fly before my javelin; but never, in the pride of my youth and strength, did I achieve such an exploit as this.' He then went into his cabin and brought forth the bow and fatal arrows which he was accustomed to use in the chase. 'Take them, take them,' said he, 'my son, and rescue my weaker arm from a burthen which it is no longer destined to sustain. Age is now creeping on; my blood begins to cool, my sinews slacken, and I am no longer equal to the task of supporting the glories of our race. That care shall now be thine; and with a firmer hand shalt thou henceforth use these weapons against the beasts of the forest and the enemies of our country.'"

Such was the account which the negro gave to Tommy, in different conversations, of his birth and education. His curiosity was gratified with the recital, and his heart expanded in the same proportion that his knowledge improved. He reflected, with shame and contempt, upon the ridiculous prejudices he had once entertained; he learned to consider all men as his brethren and equals; and the foolish distinctions which pride had formerly suggested were gradually obliterated from his mind. Such a change in his sentiments rendered him more mild, more obliging, more engaging than ever; he became the delight of all the family; and Harry, although he had always loved him, now knew no limits to his affection.

One day Tommy was surprised by an unexpected visit from his father, who met him with open arms, and told him that he was now come to take him back to his own house. "I have heard," said he, "such an account of your present behaviour, that the past is entirely forgotten; and I begin to glory in owning you for a son." He then embraced him with the transports of an affectionate father, who indulges the strongest sentiments of his heart, but sentiments he had long been forced to restrain.

Tommy returned his father's caresses with genuine warmth, but with a degree of respect and humility he had once been little accustomed to use. "I will accompany you home, sir," said he, "with the greatest readiness; for I wish to see my mother, and hope to give her some satisfaction by my future behaviour. You have both had too much to complain of in the past, and I am unworthy of such affectionate parents." He then turned his face aside and shed a tear of real virtue and gratitude, which he instantly wiped away, as unworthy the composure and fortitude of his new character.

"But, sir," added he, "I hope you will not object to my detaining you a little longer, while I return my acknowledgments to all the family, and take my leave of Harry." "Surely," said Mr Merton, "you can entertain no doubt on that subject; and to give you every opportunity of discharging all your duties to a family to which you owe so much, I intend to take a dinner with Mr Sandford, whom I now see coming home, and then to return with you in the evening."

At this instant, farmer Sandford approached, and very respectfully saluting Mr Merton, invited him to walk in. But Mr Merton, after returning his civility, drew him aside, as if he had some private business to communicate. When they were alone, he made him every acknowledgment that gratitude could suggest, "but words," added Mr Merton, "are very insufficient to return the favours I have received, for it is to your excellent family, together with the virtuous Mr Barlow, that I owe the preservation of my son. Let me therefore entreat you to accept of what this pocket-book contains, as a slight proof of my sentiments, and lay it out in whatever manner you please for the advantage of your family."

Mr Sandford, who was a man both of sense and humour, took the book, and examining the inside, found that it contained bank-notes to the amount of some hundred pounds. He then carefully shut it up again, and, returning it to Mr Merton, told him that he was infinitely obliged to him for the generosity which prompted him to such a princely act; but, as to the present itself, he must not be offended if he declined it. Mr Merton, still more astonished at such disinterestedness, pressed him with every argument he could think of; he desired him to consider the state of his family; his daughters unprovided for, his son himself, with dispositions that might adorn a throne, brought up to labour, and his own advancing age, which demanded ease and respite, and an increase of the conveniences of life.

"And what," replied the honest farmer, "is it but these conveniences of life that are the ruin of all the nation? When I was a young man, Master Merton (and that is near forty years ago), people in my condition thought of nothing but doing their duty to God and man, and labouring hard; this brought down a blessing upon their heads, and made them thrive in all their worldly concerns. When I was a boy, farmers did not lie droning in bed, as they do now, till six or seven; my father, I believe, was as good a judge of business as any in the neighbourhood, and turned as straight a furrow as any ploughman in the county of Devon; that silver cup which I intend to have the honour of drinking your health out of to-day at dinner—that very cup was won by him at the great ploughing-match near Axminster. Well, my father used to say that a farmer was not worth a farthing that was not in the field by four; and my poor dear mother, too, the best-tempered woman in the world, she always began milking exactly at five; and if a single soul was to be found in bed after four in the summer, you might have heard her from one end of the farm to the other. I would not disparage anybody, or anything, my good sir; but those were times indeed; the women then knew something about the management of a house; it really was quite a pleasure to hear my poor mother lecture the servants; and the men were men indeed. Pray, did you ever hear the story of father's being at Truro, and throwing the famous Cornish wrestler, squinting Dick the miner?"

Mr Merton began to be convinced that, whatever other qualities good Mr Sandford might have, he did not excel in brevity, and therefore endeavoured in still stronger terms to overcome the delicacy of the farmer, and prevail upon him to accept his present.

But the good farmer pursued his point thus: "Thank you, thank you, my dear sir, a thousand times for your goodwill; but, as to the money, I must beg your pardon if I persist in refusing it. Formerly, sir, as I was saying, we were all happy and healthy, and our affairs prospered, because we never thought about the conveniences of life; now, I hear of nothing else. One neighbour (for I will not mention names) brings his son up to go a-shooting with gentlemen; another sends his to market upon a blood-horse with a plated bridle; and then the girls—the girls; there is fine work indeed!—they must have their hats and feathers and riding habits; their heads as big as bushels, and even their hind-quarters stuck out with cork or pasteboard; but scarcely one of them can milk a cow, or churn, or bake, or do any one thing that is necessary in a family; so that, unless the government will send them all to this new settlement, which I have heard so much of, and bring us a cargo of plain, honest housewives, who have never been at boarding-schools, I cannot conceive how we farmers are to get wives."

Mr Merton laughed very heartily at this sally, and told him that he would venture to assert it was not so at his house. "Not quite so bad indeed," said the farmer; "my wife was bred up under a notable mother, and though she must have her tea every afternoon, is, in the main, a very good sort of woman. She has brought her daughters up a little better than usual, but I can assure you she and I have had many a good argument on the subject. Not but she approves their milking, spinning, and making themselves useful, but she would fain have them genteel, Master Merton; all women now are mad after gentility; and, when once gentility begins, there is an end of industry. Now, were they to hear of such a sum as you have generously offered, there would be no peace in the house. My wenches instead of Deb and Kate, would be Miss Deborah and Miss Catherine; in a little time they must be sent to boarding-school to learn French and music, and wriggling about the room; and when they come back, who must boil the pot, or make the pudding, or sweep the house, or serve the pigs? Did you ever hear of Miss Juliana, or Miss Harriet, or Miss Carolina, doing such vulgar things?"

Mr Merton was very much struck with the honest farmer's method of expressing himself, and could not help internally allowing the truth of his representations; yet he still pressed him to accept his present, and reminded him of the improvement of his farm.

"Thank you, again and again," replied the farmer; "but the whole generation of the Sandfords have been brought up to labour with their own hands for these hundred years; and during all that time there has not been a dishonest person, a gentleman, or a madman amongst us. And shall I be the first to break the customs of the family, and perhaps bring down a curse on all our heads? What could I have more if I were a lord or a macaroni, as I think you call them? I have plenty of victuals and work, good firing, clothes, warm house, a little for the poor, and, between you and I, something perhaps in a corner to set my children off with if they behave well. Ah! neighbour, neighbour, if you did but know the pleasure of holding plough after a good team of horses, and then going tired to bed, perhaps you'd wish to have been brought up a farmer too. But, in one word, as well as a thousand, I shall never forget the extraordinary kindness of your offer; but if you would not ruin a whole family of innocent people that love you, e'en consent to leave us as we are."

Mr Merton then seeing the fixed determination of the farmer, and feeling the justice of his coarse but strong morality, was obliged, however reluctantly, to desist; and Mrs Sandford coming to invite them to dinner, he entered the house, and paid his respects to the family.

After the cloth was removed, and Mr Sandford had twice or thrice replenished his silver mug, the only piece of finery in his house, little Harry came running in, with so much alacrity and heedlessness that he tore Miss Deborah's best apron, and he had nearly precipitated Miss Catherine's new cap into the fire, for which the young ladies and his mother rebuked him with some acrimony. But Harry, after begging pardon with his usual good-humour, cried, "Father, father, here is the prettiest team of horses, all matched, and of a colour, with new harness, the most complete I ever saw in my life; and they have stopped at our back-door, and the man says they are brought for you!" Farmer Sandford was just then in the middle of his history of the ploughing-match at Axminster; but the relation of his son had such an involuntary effect upon him, that he started up, overset the liquor and the table, and making a hasty apology to Mr Merton, ran out to see these wonderful horses.

Presently he returned, in equal admiration, with his son. "Master Merton," said he, "I did not think you had been so good a judge of a horse. I suppose they are a new purchase, which you want to have my opinion upon; and I can assure you they are the true Suffolk sorrels—the first breed of working-horses in the kingdom; and these are some of the best of their kind." "Such as they are," answered Mr Merton, "they are yours; and I cannot think, after the obligations I am under to your family, that you will do me so great a displeasure as to refuse."

Mr Sandford stood for some time in mute astonishment; but at length he was beginning the civilest speech he could think of, to refuse so great a present, when Tommy, coming up, took him by the hand, and begged him not to deny to his father and himself the first favour they had ever asked. "Besides," said he, "this present is less to yourself than to little Harry; and surely, after having lived so long in your family, you will not turn me out with disgrace, as if I had misbehaved." Here Harry himself interposed, and, considering less the value of the present than the feelings and intentions of the giver, he took his father by the hand, and besought him to oblige Master Merton and his father. "Were it any one else, I would not say a word," added he; "but I know the generosity of Mr Merton and the goodness of Master Tommy so well, that they will receive more pleasure from giving, than you from taking the horses, though I must confess they are such as would do credit to anybody; and they beat farmer Knowles all to nothing, which have long been reckoned the best team in all the country."

This last reflection, joined with all that had preceded, overcame the delicacy of Mr Sandford; and he at length consented to order the horses to be led into his stable.

And now Mr Merton, having made the most affectionate acknowledgments to all this worthy and happy family, among whom he did not forget the honest Black, whom he promised to provide for, summoned his son to accompany him home. Tommy arose, and with the sincerest gratitude bade adieu to Harry and all the rest. "I shall not be long without you," said he to Harry; "to your example I owe most of the little good that I can boast: you have taught me how much better it is to be useful than rich or fine; how much more amiable to be good than to be great. Should I ever be tempted to relapse, even for an instant, into any of my former habits, I will return hither for instruction, and I hope you will again receive me." Saying this, he shook his friend Harry affectionately by the hand, and, with watery eyes, accompanied his father home.