Harry's Chicken--Tommy tries kindness on the Pig--Account of the
Elephant--Story of the Elephant and the Tailor--Story of the
Elephant and the Child--Stories of the Good Natured Boy and the Ill
Natured Boy--The Boys determine to Build a House--Story of the
Grateful Turk--The Boys' House blown down--They rebuild it
stronger--The Roof lets in the Rain--At last is made Water-tight.
Here little Harry came in from his father's house, and brought with him
the chicken, which, it had been mentioned, he had saved from the claws
of the kite. The little animal was now perfectly recovered of the hurt
it had received, and showed so great a degree of affection to its
protector, that it would run after him like a dog, hop upon his
shoulder, nestle in his bosom, and eat crumbs out of his hand. Tommy was
extremely surprised and pleased to remark its tameness and docility, and
asked by what means it had been made so gentle. Harry told him he had
taken no particular pains about it; but that, as the poor little
creature had been sadly hurt, he had fed it every day till it was well;
and that, in consequence of that kindness, it had conceived a great
degree of affection towards him.
"Indeed," said Tommy, "that is very surprising; for I thought all birds
had flown away whenever a man came near them, and that even the fowls
which are kept at home would never let you touch them." _Mr B._--And
what do you imagine is the reason of that? _T._--Because they are wild.
_Mr B._--And what is a fowl's being wild? _T._--When he will not let you
come near him. _Mr B._--Then a fowl is wild because he will not let you
come near him. This is saying nothing more than that when a fowl is wild
he will not let you approach him. But I want to know what is the reason
of his being wild. _T._--Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is
because they are naturally so. _Mr B._--But if they were naturally so,
this fowl could not be fond of Harry. _T._--That is because he is so
good to it. _Mr B._--Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal
to run away from a person that is good to him? _T._--No, sir; I believe
not. _Mr B._--But when a person is not good to him, or endeavours to
hurt him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it not?
_T._--Yes. _Mr B._--And then you say he is wild, do you not? _T._--Yes,
sir. _Mr B._--Why, then, it is probable that animals are only wild
because they are afraid of being hurt, and that they only run away from
the fear of danger. I believe you would do the same from a lion or a
tiger. _T._--Indeed I would, sir. _Mr B._--And yet you do not call
yourself a wild animal? Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said No.
"Therefore," said Mr Barlow, "if you want to tame animals, you must be
good to them, and treat them kindly, and then they will no longer fear
you, but come to you and love you." "Indeed," said Harry, "that is very
true; for I knew a little boy that took a great fancy to a snake that
lived in his father's garden; and, when he had the milk for breakfast,
he used to sit under a nut tree and whistle, and the snake would come to
him and eat out of his bowl." _T._--And did it not bite him? _H._--No;
he sometimes used to give it a pat with his spoon, if it ate too fast;
but it never hurt him.
Tommy was much pleased with this conversation; and, being both
good-natured and desirous of making experiments, he determined to try
his skill in taming animals. Accordingly, he took a large slice of bread
in his hand, and went out to seek some animal that he might give it to.
The first thing that he happened to meet was a sucking pig that had
rambled from its mother, and was basking in the sun. Tommy would not
neglect the opportunity of showing his talents; he therefore called Pig,
pig, pig! come hither, little pig! But the pig, who did not exactly
comprehend his intentions, only grunted, and ran away. "You little
ungrateful thing," said Tommy, "do you treat me in this manner, when I
want to feed you? If you do not know your friends I must teach you." So
saying this, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by the hind-leg,
intending to have given him the bread which he had in his hand; but the
pig, who was not used to be treated in that manner, began struggling and
squeaking to that degree, that the sow, who was within hearing, came
running to the place, with all the rest of the litter at her heels. As
Tommy did not know whether she would be pleased with his civilities to
her young one or not, he thought it most prudent to let it go; and the
pig, endeavouring to escape as speedily as possible, unfortunately ran
between his legs and threw him down. The place where this accident
happened was extremely wet; therefore Tommy, in falling, dirtied himself
from head to foot; and the sow, who came up at that instant, passed over
him, as he attempted to rise, and rolled him back again into the mire.
Tommy, who was not the coolest in his temper, was extremely provoked at
this ungrateful return for his intended kindness; and, losing all
patience, he seized the sow by the hind-leg and began pommelling her
with all his might, as she attempted to escape. The sow, as may be
imagined, did not relish such treatment, but endeavoured with all her
force to escape; but Tommy still keeping his hold, and continuing his
discipline, she struggled with such violence as to drag him several
yards, squeaking at the same time in the most lamentable manner, in
which she was joined by the whole litter of pigs.
During the heat of this contest a large flock of geese happened to be
crossing the road, into the midst of which the affrighted sow ran
headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her heels. The goslings
retreated with the greatest precipitation, joining their mournful
cackling to the general noise; but a gander of more than common size
and courage, resenting the unprovoked attack which had been made upon
his family, flew at Tommy's hinder parts, and gave him several severe
strokes with his bill.
Tommy, whose courage had hitherto been unconquerable, being thus
unexpectedly attacked by a new enemy, was obliged to yield to fortune,
and not knowing the precise extent of his danger, he not only suffered
the sow to escape, but joined his vociferations to the general scream.
This alarmed Mr Barlow, who, coming up to the place, found his pupil in
the most woeful plight, daubed from head to foot, with his face and
hands as black as those of any chimney-sweeper. He inquired what was the
matter; and Tommy, as soon as he had recovered breath enough to speak,
answered in this manner: "Sir, all this is owing to what you told me
about taming animals; I wanted to make them tame and gentle, and to love
me, and you see the consequences." "Indeed," said Mr Barlow, "I see you
have been ill-treated, but I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing
to anything I have said, I shall feel the more concern." "No," said
Tommy, "I cannot say that I am much hurt." "Why, then," said Mr Barlow,
"you had better go and wash yourself; and, when you are clean, we will
talk over the affair together."
When Tommy had returned, Mr Barlow asked him how the accident had
happened? and when he had heard the story, he said, "I am very sorry for
your misfortune; but I do not perceive that I was the cause of it, for I
do not remember that I ever advised you to catch pigs by the hinder
leg." _Tommy._--No, sir; but you told me that feeding animals was the
way to make them love me; and so I wanted to feed the pig. _Mr B._--But
it was not my fault that you attempted it in a wrong manner. The animal
did not know your intentions, and therefore, when you seized him in so
violent a manner, he naturally attempted to escape, and his mother
hearing his cries, very naturally came to his assistance. All that
happened was owing to your inexperience. Before you meddle with any
animal, you should make yourself acquainted with his nature and
disposition, otherwise you may fare like the little boy that, in
attempting to catch flies, was stung by a wasp; or like another that,
seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it for an eel, and was bitten
by it, which had nearly cost him his life. _T._--But, sir, I thought
Harry had mentioned a little boy that used to feed a snake without
receiving any hurt from it. _Mr B._--That might very well happen; there
is scarcely any creature that will do hurt, unless it is attacked or
wants food; and some of these reptiles are entirely harmless, others
not; therefore the best way is not to meddle with any till you are
perfectly acquainted with its nature. Had you observed this rule, you
never would have attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order
to tame it; and it is very lucky that you did not make the experiment
upon a larger animal, otherwise you might have been as badly treated as
the tailor was by the elephant. _T._--Pray, sir, what is this curious
story? But first tell me, if you please, what an elephant is?
"An elephant," said Mr Barlow, "is the largest land animal that we are
acquainted with. It is many times thicker than an ox, and grows to the
height of eleven or twelve feet. Its strength, as may be easily
imagined, is prodigious; but it is at the same time so very gentle, that
it rarely does hurt to anything, even in woods where it resides. It does
not eat flesh, but lives upon the fruits and branches of trees. But what
is most singular about its make is, that, instead of a nose, it has a
long hollow piece of flesh, which grows over its mouth to the length of
three or four feet; this is called the trunk of the elephant; and he is
capable of bending it in every direction. When he wants to break off the
branch of a tree, he twists his trunk round it, and snaps it off
directly; when he wants to drink, he lets it down into the water, sucks
up several gallons at a time, and then, doubling the end of it back,
discharges it all into his mouth."
"But if he is so large and strong," said Tommy, "I should suppose it
must be impossible ever to tame him." "So perhaps it would," replied Mr
Barlow, "did they not instruct those that have been already tamed to
assist in catching others." _T._--How is that, sir? _Mr B._--When they
have discovered a forest where these animals resort, they make a large
enclosure with strong pales and a deep ditch, leaving only one entrance
to it, which has a strong gate left purposely open. They then let one or
two of their tame elephants loose, who join the wild ones, and gradually
entice them into the enclosure. As soon as one of these has entered, a
man, who stands ready, shuts the gate, and takes him prisoner. The
animal, finding himself thus entrapped, begins to grow furious, and
attempts to escape; but immediately two tame ones, of the largest size
and greatest strength, who have been placed there on purpose, come up to
him, one on each side, and beat him with their trunks till he becomes
more quiet. A man then comes behind, ties a very large cord to each of
his hind-legs, and fastens the other end of it to two great trees. He is
then left without food for some hours, and in that time generally
becomes so docile as to suffer himself to be conducted to the stable
that is prepared for him, where he lives the rest of his life like a
horse, or any other sort of domestic animal. _T._--And pray, sir, what
did the elephant do to the tailor? "There was," said Mr Barlow, "at
Surat, a city where many of these tame elephants are kept, a tailor, who
used to sit and work in his shed, close to the place to which these
elephants were led every day to drink. This man contracted a kind of
acquaintance with one of the largest of these beasts, and used to
present him with fruits and other vegetables whenever the elephant
passed by his door. The elephant was accustomed to put his long trunk in
at the window, and to receive in that manner whatever his friend chose
to give. But one day the tailor happened to be in a more than ordinary
ill-humour, and not considering how dangerous it might prove to provoke
an animal of that size and strength, when the elephant put his trunk in
at the window as usual, instead of giving him anything to eat, he
pricked him with his needle. The elephant instantly withdrew his trunk,
and, without showing any marks of resentment, went on with the rest to
drink; but, after he had quenched his thirst, he collected a large
quantity of the dirtiest water he could find in his trunk--which I have
already told you is capable of holding many gallons--and, when he passed
by the tailor's shop, in his return, he discharged it full in his face,
with so true an aim, that he wetted him all over, and almost drowned
him; thus justly punishing the man for his ill-nature and breach of
friendship."
"Indeed," said Harry, "considering the strength of the animal, he must
have had a great moderation and generosity not to have punished the man
more severely; and therefore, I think it is a very great shame to men
ever to be cruel to animals, when they are so affectionate and humane to
them."
"You are very right," said Mr Barlow; "and I remember another story of
an elephant, which, if true, is still more extraordinary. These animals,
although in general they are as docile and obedient to the person that
takes care of them as a dog, are sometimes seized with a species of
impatience which makes them absolutely ungovernable. It is then
dangerous to come near them, and very difficult to restrain them. I
should have mentioned, that in the Eastern parts of the world, where
elephants are found, the kings and princes keep them to ride upon as we
do horses; a kind of tent or pavilion is fixed upon the back of the
animal, in which one or more persons are placed; and the keeper that is
used to manage him sits upon the neck of the elephant, and guides him by
means of a pole with an iron hook at the end. Now, as these animals are
of great value, the keeper is frequently severely punished if any
accident happens to the animal by his carelessness. But one day, one of
the largest elephants, being seized with a sudden fit of passion, had
broken loose; and, as the keeper was not in the way, nobody was able to
appease him, or dared to come near him. While, therefore, he was running
about in this manner, he chanced to see the wife of his keeper (who had
often fed him as well as her husband), with her young child in her arms,
with which she was endeavouring to escape from his fury. The woman ran
as fast as she was able; but, finding that it was impossible for her to
escape, because these beasts, although so very large, are able to run
very fast, she resolutely turned about, and throwing her child down
before the elephant, thus accosted him, as if he had been capable of
understanding her: "You ungrateful beast, is this the return you make
for all the benefits we have bestowed! Have we fed you, and taken care
of you, by day and night, during so many years, only that you may at
last destroy us all? Crush, then, this poor innocent child and me, in
return for the services that my husband has done you!" While she was
making these passionate exclamations, the elephant approached the place
where the little infant lay, but, instead of trampling upon him, he
stopped short, and looked at him with earnestness, as if he had been
sensible of shame and confusion; and, his fury from that instant
abating, he suffered himself to be led without opposition to his
stable."
Tommy thanked Mr Barlow for these two stories, and promised for the
future to use more discretion in his kindness to animals.
The next day Tommy and Harry went into the garden to sow the wheat which
Harry had brought with him, upon a bed which Tommy had dug for that
purpose.
While they were at work, Tommy said, "Pray, Harry, did you ever hear the
story of the men that were obliged to live six years upon that terrible
cold country (I forget the name of it), where there is nothing but snow
and ice, and scarcely any other animals, but great bears, that are ready
to eat men up?" _Harry._--Yes, I have. _T._--And did not the very
thoughts of it frighten you dreadfully? _H._--No; I cannot say they did.
_T._--Why, should you like to live in such a country? _H._--No,
certainly; I am very happy that I was born in such a country as this,
where the weather is scarcely ever too hot or too cold; but a man must
bear patiently whatever is his lot in this world. _T._--That is true.
But should you not cry, and be very much afflicted, if you were left
upon such a country? _H._--I should certainly be very sorry if I was
left there alone, more especially as I am not big enough, or strong
enough, to defend myself against such fierce animals; but the crying
would do me no good; it would be better to do something, and endeavour
to help myself. _T._--Indeed I think it would; but what could you do?
_H._--Why, I should endeavour to build myself a house, if I could find
myself materials. _T._--And what materials is a house made of? I thought
it had been impossible to make a house without having a great many
people of different trades, such as carpenters and bricklayers.
_H._--You know there are houses of different sizes. The houses that the
poor people live in are very different from your father's house.
_T._--Yes, they are little, nasty, dirty, disagreeable places; I should
not like to live in them at all. _H._--And yet the poor are in general
as strong and healthy as the rich. But if you could have no other, you
would rather live in one of them than be exposed to the weather?
_T._--Yes, certainly. And how would you make one of them? _H._--If I
could get any wood, and had a hatchet, I would cut down some branches of
trees, and stick them upright in the ground, near to each other.
_T._--And what then? _H._--I would then get some other branches, but
more full of small wood; and these I would interweave between them, just
as we make hurdles to confine the sheep; and then, as that might not be
warm enough to resist the wind and cold, I would cover them over, both
within and without, with clay. _T._--Clay! what is that? _H._--It is a
particular kind of earth, that sticks to your feet when you tread upon
it, or to your hands when you touch it. _T._--I declare I did not think
it had been so easy to make a house. And do you think that people could
really live in such houses? _H._--Certainly they might, because many
persons live in such houses here; and I have been told that in many
parts of the world they have not any other. _T._--Really, I should like
to try to make a house; do you think, Harry, that you and I could make
one? _H._--Yes, if I had wood and clay enough, I think I could, and a
small hatchet to sharpen the stakes and make them enter the ground.
Mr Barlow then came to call them in to read, and told Tommy that, as he
had been talking so much about good-nature to animals, he had looked him
out a very pretty story upon the subject, and begged that he would read
it well. "That I will," said Tommy; "for I begin to like reading
extremely; and I think that I am happier too since I learned it, for now
I can always divert myself." "Indeed," answered Mr Barlow, "most people
find it so. When any one can read he will not find the knowledge any
burthen to him, and it is his own fault if he is not constantly amused.
This is an advantage, Tommy, which a gentleman, since you are so fond of
the word, may more particularly enjoy, because he has so much time at
his own disposal; and it is much better that he should distinguish
himself by having more knowledge and improvement than others, than by
fine clothes, or any such trifles, which any one may have that can
purchase them as well as himself."
Tommy then read, with a clear and distinct voice, the following story of
"THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY."
"A little boy went out one morning to walk to a village about five miles
from the place where he lived, and carried with him in a basket the
provision that was to serve him the whole day. As he was walking along,
a poor little half-starved dog came up to him, wagging his tail, and
seeming to entreat him to take compassion on him. The little boy at
first took no notice of him, but at length, remarking how lean and
famished the creature seemed to be, he said, 'This animal is certainly
in very great necessity; if I give him part of my provision, I shall be
obliged to go home hungry myself; however, as he seems to want it more
than I do, he shall partake with me.' Saying this, he gave the dog part
of what he had in the basket, who ate as if he had not tasted victuals
for a fortnight.
"The little boy then went on a little farther, his dog still following
him, and fawning upon him with the greatest gratitude and affection,
when he saw a poor old horse lying upon the ground, and groaning as if
he was very ill; he went up to him, and saw that he was almost starved,
and so weak that he was unable to rise. 'I am very much afraid,' said
the little boy, 'if I stay to assist this horse, that it will be dark
before I can return; and I have heard that there are several thieves in
the neighbourhood; however, I will try--it is doing a good action to
attempt to relieve him; and God Almighty will take care of me.' He then
went and gathered some grass, which he brought to the horse's mouth, who
immediately began to eat with as much relish as if his chief disease was
hunger. He then fetched some water in his hat, which the animal drank
up, and seemed immediately to be so much refreshed that, after a few
trials, he got up and began grazing.
"The little boy then went on a little farther, and saw a man wading
about in a pond of water, without being able to get out of it, in spite
of all his endeavours. 'What is the matter, good man,' said the little
boy to him; 'can't you find your way out of this pond?' 'No, God bless
you, my worthy master, or miss,' said the man, 'for such I take you to
be by your voice; I have fallen into this pond, and know not how to get
out again, as I am quite blind, and I am almost afraid to move for fear
of being drowned.' 'Well,' said the little boy, 'though I shall be
wetted to the skin, if you will throw me your stick I will try to help
you out of it.' The blind man then threw the stick to that side on which
he heard the voice; the little boy caught it, and went into the water,
feeling very carefully before him, lest he should unguardedly go beyond
his depth; at length he reached the blind man, took him very carefully
by the hand, and led him out. The blind man then gave him a thousand
blessings, and told him he could grope out his way home; and the little
boy ran on as hard as he could, to prevent being benighted.
"But he had not proceeded far before he saw a poor sailor, who had lost
both his legs in an engagement by sea, hopping along upon crutches. 'God
bless you, my little master!' said the sailor; 'I have fought many a
battle with the French, to defend poor old England; but now I am
crippled, as you see, and have neither victuals nor money, although I am
almost famished.' The little boy could not resist the inclination to
relieve him; so he gave him all his remaining victuals, and said, 'God
help you, poor man! this is all I have, otherwise you should have more.'
He then ran along and presently arrived at the town he was going to, did
his business, and returned towards his own home with all the expedition
he was able.
"But he had not gone much more than half-way before the night shut in
extremely dark, without either moon or stars to light him. The poor
little boy used his utmost endeavours to find his way, but unfortunately
missed it in turning down a lane which brought him into a wood, where he
wandered about a great while without being able to find any path to lead
him out. Tired out at last, and hungry, he felt himself so feeble that
he could go no farther, but set himself down upon the ground, crying
most bitterly. In this situation he remained for some time, till at last
the little dog, who had never forsaken him, came up to him wagging his
tail, and holding something in his mouth. The little boy took it from
him, and saw it was a handkerchief nicely pinned together, which
somebody had dropped, and the dog, had picked up, and on opening it he
found several slices of bread and meat, which the little boy ate with
great satisfaction, and felt himself extremely refreshed with his meal.
'So,' said the little boy, 'I see that if I have given you a breakfast,
you have given me a supper; and a good turn is never lost, done even to
a dog.'
"He then once more attempted to escape from the wood, but it was to no
purpose; he only scratched his legs with briers and slipped down in the
dirt, without being able to find his way out. He was just going to give
up all further attempts in despair, when he happened to see a horse
feeding before him, and, going up to him, saw, by the light of the moon,
which just then began to shine a little, that it was the very same he
had fed in the morning. 'Perhaps,' said the little boy, 'this creature,
as I have been so good to him, will let me get upon his back, and he may
bring me out of the wood; as he is accustomed to feed in this
neighbourhood.' The little boy then went up to the horse, speaking to
him and stroking him, and the horse let him mount his back without
opposition, and then proceeded slowly through the wood, grazing as he
went, till he brought him to an opening which led to the high road. The
little boy was much rejoiced at this, and said, 'If I had not saved this
creature's life in the morning, I should have been obliged to have
stayed here all night; I see by this, that a good turn is never lost.'
"But the poor little boy had yet a greater danger to undergo; for, as he
was going down a solitary lane, two men rushed out upon him, laid hold
of him, and were going to strip him of his clothes; but just as they
were beginning to do it, the little dog bit the leg of one of the men
with so much violence, that he left the little boy and pursued the dog,
that ran howling and barking away. In this instant a voice was hard that
cried out, 'There the rascals are; let us knock them down!' which
frightened the remaining man so much that he ran away, and his companion
followed him. The little boy then looked up, and saw it was the sailor
whom he had relieved in the morning, carried upon the shoulders of the
blind man whom he had helped out of the pond. 'There, my little dear,'
said the sailor, 'God be thanked! we have come in time to do you a
service, in return for what you did us in the morning. As I lay under a
hedge I heard these villains talk of robbing a little boy, who, from the
description, I concluded must be you; but I was so lame that I should
not have been able to come time enough to help you, if I had not meet
this honest blind man, who took me upon his back while I showed him the
way.'
"The little boy thanked him very sincerely for thus defending him; and
they went all together to his father's house, which was not far off,
where they were all kindly entertained with a supper and a bed. The
little boy took care of his faithful dog as long as he lived, and never
forgot the importance and necessity of doing good to others, if we wish
them to do the same to us."
"Upon my word," said Tommy, when he had finished, "I am vastly pleased
with this story, and I think that it may very likely be true, for I have
myself observed that everything seems to love little Harry here, merely
because he is good-natured to it. I was much surprised to see the great
dog the other day, which I have never dared to touch for fear of being
bitten, fawning upon him and licking him all over; it put me in mind of
the story of Androcles and the lion." "That dog," said Mr Barlow, "will
be equally fond of you, if you are kind to him; for nothing equals the
sagacity and gratitude of a dog. But since you have read a story about a
good-natured boy, Harry shall read you another concerning a boy of a
contrary disposition."
Harry read the following story of
"THE ILL-NATURED BOY."
"There was once a little boy who was so unfortunate as to have a very
bad man for his father, who was always surly and ill-tempered, and
never gave his children either good instructions or good example; in
consequence of which this little boy, who might otherwise have been
happier and better, became ill-natured, quarrelsome, and disagreeable to
everybody. He very often was severely beaten for his impertinence by
boys that were bigger than himself, and sometimes by boys that were
less; for, though he was very abusive and quarrelsome, he did not much
like fighting, and generally trusted more to his heels than his courage,
when he had engaged himself in a quarrel. This little boy had a cur-dog
that was the exact image of himself; he was the most troublesome, surly
creature imaginable,--always barking at the heels of every horse he came
near, and worrying every sheep he could meet with--for which reason both
the dog and the boy were disliked by all the neighbourhood.
"One morning his father got up early to go to the alehouse, where he
intended to stay till night, as it was a holiday; but before he went out
he gave his son some bread and cold meat and sixpence, and told him he
might go and divert himself as he would the whole day. The little boy
was much pleased with this liberty; and, as it was a very fine morning,
he called his dog Tiger to follow him, and began his walk.
"He had not proceeded far before he met a little boy that was driving a
flock of sheep towards a gate that he wanted them to enter. 'Pray,
master,' said the little boy, 'stand still and keep your dog close to
you, for fear you frighten my sheep.' 'Oh yes, to be sure!' answered the
ill-natured boy, 'I am to wait here all the morning till you and your
sheep have passed, I suppose! Here, Tiger, seize them, boy!' Tiger at
this sprang forth into the middle of the flock, barking and biting on
every side, and the sheep, in a general consternation, hurried each a
separate way. Tiger seemed to enjoy this sport equally with his master;
but in the midst of his triumph he happened unguardedly to attack an old
ram that had more courage than the rest of the flock; he, instead of
running away, faced about, and aimed a blow with his forehead at his
enemy, with so much force and dexterity, that he knocked Tiger over and
over, and, butting him several times while he was down, obliged him to
limp howling away.
"The ill-natured little boy, who was not capable of loving anything, had
been much diverted with the trepidation of the sheep; but now he laughed
heartily at the misfortune of his dog; and he would have laughed much
longer, had not the other little boy, provoked beyond his patience at
this treatment thrown a stone at him, which hit him full upon the
temples, and almost knocked him down. He immediately began to cry, in
concert with his dog, and perceiving a man coming towards them, who he
fancied might be the owner of the sheep, he thought it most prudent to
escape as speedily as possible.
"But he had scarcely recovered from the smart which the blow had
occasioned, before his former mischievous disposition returned, which he
determined to gratify to the utmost. He had not gone far before he saw a
little girl standing by a stile with a large pot of milk at her feet.
'Pray,' said the little girl, 'help me up with this pot of milk; my
mother sent me out to fetch it this morning, and I have brought it
above a mile upon my head; but I am so tired that I have been obliged to
stop at this stile to rest me; and if I don't return home presently we
shall have no pudding to-day, and besides my mother will be very angry
with me.' 'What,' said the boy, 'you are to have a pudding to-day, are
you, miss?' 'Yes,' said the girl, 'and a fine piece of roast-beef; for
there's uncle Will, and uncle John, and grandfather, and all my cousins,
to dine with us, and we shall be very merry in the evening, I can assure
you; so pray help me up as speedily as possible.' 'That I will, miss,'
said the boy; and, taking up the jug, he pretended to fix it upon her
head; but as she had hold of it, he gave it a little push, as if he had
stumbled, and overturned it upon her. The little girl began to cry
violently, but the mischievous boy ran away laughing heartily, and
saying, 'Good-by, little miss; give my humble service to uncle Will, and
grandfather, and the dear little cousins.'
"This prank encouraged him very much; for he thought he had now
certainly escaped without any bad consequences; so he went on applauding
his own ingenuity, and came to a green where several little boys were at
play. He desired leave to play with them, which they allowed him to do.
But he could not be contented long without exerting his evil
disposition; so taking an opportunity when it was his turn to fling the
ball, instead of flinging it the way he ought to have done, he threw it
into a deep muddy ditch. The little boys ran in a great hurry to see
what was become of it; and as they were standing together upon the
brink, he gave the outermost boy a violent push against his neighbour;
he, not being able to resist the violence, tumbled against another, by
which means they were all soused into the ditch together. They soon
scrambled out, although in a dirty plight, and were going to have
punished him for his ill behaviour; but he patted Tiger upon the back,
who began snarling and growling in such a manner as made them desist.
Thus this mischievous little boy escaped a second time with impunity.
"The next thing that he met with was a poor jackass, feeding very
quietly in a ditch. The little boy, seeing that nobody was within sight,
thought this was an opportunity of plaguing an animal that was not to be
lost; so he went and cut a large bunch of thorns, which he contrived to
fix upon the poor beast's tail, and then, setting Tiger at him, he was
extremely diverted to see the fright and agony the creature was in. But
it did not fare so well with Tiger, who, while he was baying and biting
the animal's heels, received so severe a kick upon his forehead, as laid
him dead upon the spot. The boy, who had no affection for his dog, left
him with the greatest unconcern when he saw what had happened, and,
finding himself hungry, sat down by the wayside to eat his dinner.
"He had not been long there before a poor blind man came groping his way
out with a couple of sticks. 'Good morning to you, gaffer,' said the
boy; 'pray, did you see a little girl come this road, with a basket of
eggs upon her head, dressed in a green gown, with a straw hat upon her
head?' 'God bless you, master,' said the beggar, 'I am so blind that I
can see nothing; I have been blind these twenty years, and they call me
poor old blind Richard.'
"Though this poor man was such an object of charity and compassion, yet
the little boy determined, as usual, to play him some trick; and, as he
was a great liar and deceiver, he spoke to him thus: 'Poor old Richard,
I am heartily sorry for you with all my heart; I am just eating my
breakfast, and if you will sit down by me I will give you part and feed
you myself.' 'Thank you with all my heart,' said the poor man; 'and if
you will give me your hand, I will sit by you with great pleasure, my
dear, good little master!' The little boy then gave him his hand, and,
pretending to direct him, guided him to sit down in a large heap of wet
dung that lay by the road-side. 'There,' said he, 'now you are nicely
seated, and I will feed you.' So, taking a little in his fingers, he was
going to put it into the blind man's mouth; but the man, who now
perceived the trick that had been played him, made a sudden snap at his
fingers, and, getting them between his teeth, bit them so severely that
the wicked boy roared out for mercy, and promised never more to be
guilty of such wickedness. At last the blind man, after he had put him
to very severe pain, consented to let him go, saying as he went, 'Are
you not ashamed, you little scoundrel, to attempt to do hurt to those
who have never injured you, and to want to add to the sufferings of
those who are already sufficiently miserable? Although you escape now,
be assured that, if you do not repent and mend your manners, you will
meet with a severe punishment for your bad behaviour.'
"One would think that this punishment should have cured him entirely of
his mischievous disposition; but, unfortunately, nothing is so difficult
to overcome as bad habits that have been long indulged. He had not gone
far before he saw a lame beggar, that just made a shift to support
himself by means of a couple of sticks. The beggar asked him to give him
something, and the little mischievous boy, pulling out his sixpence,
threw it down just before him, as if he intended to make him a present
of it; but, while the poor man was stooping with difficulty to pick it
up, this wicked little boy knocked the stick away, by which means the
beggar fell down upon his face; and then, snatching up the sixpence, the
boy ran away, laughing very heartily at the accident.
"This was the last trick this ungracious boy had it in his power to
play; for, seeing two men come up to the beggar, and enter into
discourse with him, he was afraid of being pursued, and therefore ran as
fast as he was able over several fields. At last he came into a lane
which led into a farmer's orchard, and as he was preparing to clamber
over the fence, a large dog seized him by the leg and held him fast. He
cried out in agony of terror, which brought the farmer out, who called
the dog off, but seized him very roughly, saying, 'So, sir, you are
caught at last, are you? You thought you might come day after day and
steal my apples without detection; but it seems you are mistaken, and
now you shall receive the punishment you have so long deserved.' The
farmer then began to chastise him very severely with a whip he had in
his hand, and the boy in vain protested he was innocent, and begged for
mercy. At last the farmer asked him who he was, and where he lived; but
when he heard his name he cried out, 'What! are you the little rascal
that frightened my sheep this morning, by which means several of them
are lost; and do you think to escape?' Saying this, he lashed him more
severely than before, in spite of all his cries and protestations. At
length, thinking he had punished him enough, he turned him out of the
orchard, bade him go home, and frighten sheep again if he liked the
consequences.
"The little boy slunk away, crying very bitterly (for he had been very
severely beaten), and now began to find that no one can long hurt others
with impunity; so he determined to go quietly home, and behave better
for the future.
"But his sufferings were not yet at an end; for as he jumped down from a
stile, he felt himself very roughly seized, and, looking up, found that
he was in the power of the lame beggar whom he had thrown upon his face.
It was in vain that he now cried, entreated, and begged pardon; the man,
who had been much hurt by his fall, thrashed him very severely with his
stick, before he would part with him. He now again went on, crying and
roaring with pain, but at least expected to escape without further
damage. But here he was mistaken; for as he was walking slowly through a
lane, just as he turned a corner, he found himself in the middle of the
very troop of boys that he had used so ill in the morning. They all set
up a shout as soon as they saw their enemy in their power without his
dog, and began persecuting him a thousand various ways. Some pulled him
by the hair, others pinched him; some whipped his legs with their
handkerchiefs, while others covered him with handfuls of dirt. In vain
did he attempt to escape; they were still at his heels, and, surrounding
him on every side, continued their persecutions. At length, while he was
in this disagreeable situation, he happened to come up to the same
jackass he had seen in the morning, and, making a sudden spring, jumped
upon his back, hoping by these means to escape. The boys immediately
renewed their shouts, and the ass, who was frightened at the noise,
began galloping with all his might, and presently bore him from the
reach of his enemies. But he had but little reason to rejoice at this
escape, for he found it impossible to stop the animal, and was every
instant afraid of being thrown of and dashed upon the ground. After he
had been thus hurried along a considerable time, the ass on a sudden
stopped short at the door of a cottage, and began kicking and prancing
with so much fury that the little boy was presently thrown to the
ground, and broke his leg in the fall. His cries immediately brought the
family out, among whom was the very little girl he had used so ill in
the morning. But she with the greatest good-nature, seeing him in such a
pitiable situation, assisted in bringing him in, and laying him upon the
bed. There this unfortunate boy had leisure to recollect himself, and
reflect upon his own bad behaviour, which in one day's time had exposed
him to such a variety of misfortunes; and he determined with great
sincerity, that, if ever he recovered from his present accident, he
would be as careful to take every opportunity of doing good, as he had
before been to commit every species of mischief."
When the story was ended, Tommy said it was very surprising to see how
differently the two little boys fared. The one little boy was
good-natured, and therefore everything he met became his friend and
assisted him in return; the other, who was ill-natured, made everything
his enemy, and therefore he met with nothing but misfortunes and
vexations, and nobody seemed to feel any compassion for him, excepting
the poor little girl that assisted him at last, which was very kind
indeed of her, considering how ill she had been used.
"That is very true, indeed," said Mr Barlow; "nobody is loved in this
world unless he loves others and does good to them; and nobody can tell
but one time or other he may want the assistance of the meanest and
lowest; therefore, every sensible man will behave well to everything
around him; he will behave well, because it is his duty to do it,
because every benevolent person feels the greatest pleasure in doing
good, and even because it is his own interest to make as many friends as
possible. No one can tell, however secure his present situation may
appear, how soon it may alter, and he may have occasion for the
compassion of those who are now infinitely below him. I could show you a
story to that purpose, but you have read enough, and therefore you must
now go out and use some exercise."
"Oh pray, sir," said Tommy, "do let me hear the story; I think I could
now read for ever without being tired." "No," said Mr Barlow;
"everything has its turn; to-morrow you shall read, but now we must work
in the garden." "Then pray, sir," said Tommy, "may I ask a favour of
you?" "Surely," answered Mr Barlow; "if it is proper for you to have,
there is nothing can give me a greater pleasure than to grant it." "Why,
then," said Tommy, "I have been thinking that a man should know how to
do everything in the world." _Mr B._--Very right; the more knowledge he
acquires the better. _T._--And therefore Harry and I are going to build
a house. _Mr B._--To build a house! Well, and have you laid in a
sufficient quantity of brick and mortar? "No, no," said Tommy, smiling;
"Harry and I can build houses without brick and mortar." _Mr B._--What
are they to be made of, then--cards? "Dear sir," answered Tommy, "do you
think we are such little children as to want card-houses? No; we are
going to build real houses, fit for people to live in. And then, you
know, if ever we should be thrown upon a desert coast, as the poor men
were, we shall be able to supply ourselves with necessaries till some
ship comes to take us away." _Mr B._--And if no ship should come, what
then? _T._--Why, then, we must stay there all our lives, I am afraid.
_Mr B._--If you wish to prepare yourselves against the event, you are
much in the right, for nobody knows what may happen to him in this
world. What is it then you want, to make your house? _T._--The first
thing we want, sir, is wood and a hatchet. _Mr B._--Wood you shall have
in plenty; but did you ever use a hatchet? _T._--No, sir. _Mr B._--Then
I am afraid to let you have one, because it is a very dangerous kind of
tool; and if you are not expert in the use of it you may wound yourself
severely. But if you will let me know what you want, I, who am more
strong and expert, will take the hatchet and cut down the wood for you.
"Thank you, sir," said Tommy; "you are very good to me, indeed." And
away Harry and he ran to the copse at the bottom of the garden.
Mr Barlow then went to work, and presently, by Harry's direction, cut
down several poles about as thick as a man's wrist, and about eight feet
long; these he sharpened at the end, in order to run into the ground;
and so eager were the two little boys at the business, that, in a very
short time, they had transported them all to the bottom of the garden;
and Tommy entirely forgot he was a gentleman, and worked with the
greatest eagerness.
"Now," said Mr Barlow, "where will you fix your house?" "Here, I think,"
answered Tommy, "just at the bottom of this hill, because it will be
warm and sheltered."
So Harry took the stakes and began to thrust them into the ground at
about the distance of a foot, and in this manner he enclosed a piece of
ground, which was about ten feet long and eight feet wide--leaving an
opening in the middle, of three feet wide, for a door. After this was
done they gathered up the brushwood that was cut off, and by Harry's
direction they interwove it between the poles in such a manner as to
form a compact kind of fence. This labour, as may be imagined, took them
up several days; however, they worked at it very hard every day, and
every day the work advanced, which filled Tommy's heart with so much
pleasure that he thought himself the happiest little boy in the
universe.
But this employment did not make Tommy unmindful of the story which Mr
Barlow had promised him; it was to this purport:--
"THE STORY OF THE GRATEFUL TURK."
"It is too much to be lamented that different nations frequently make
bloody wars with each other; and when they take any of their enemies
prisoners, instead of using them well, and restoring them to liberty,
they confine them in prisons, or sell them as slaves. The enmity that
there is often between many of the Italian states (particularly the
Venetians) and the Turks is sufficiently known.
"It once happened that a Venetian ship had taken many of the Turks
prisoners, and according to the barbarous customs I have mentioned,
these unhappy men had been sold to different persons in the city. By
accident, one of the slaves lived opposite to the house of a rich
Venetian, who had an only son of about the age of twelve years. It
happened that this little boy used frequently to stop as he passed near
Hamet (for that was the name of the slave), and gaze at him very
attentively. Hamet, who remarked in the face of the child the appearance
of good-nature and compassion, used always to salute him with the
greatest courtesy, and testified the greatest pleasure in his company.
At length the little boy took such a fancy to the slave that he used to
visit him several times in the day, and brought him such little presents
as he had it in his power to make, and which he thought would be of use
to his friend.
"But though Hamet seemed always to take the greatest delight in the
innocent caresses of his little friend, yet the child could not help
remarking that Hamet was frequently extremely sorrowful, and he often
surprised him on a sudden when tears were trickling down his face,
although he did his utmost to conceal them. The little boy was at length
so much affected with the repetition of this sight that he spoke of it
to his father, and begged him, if he had it in his power, to make poor
Hamet happy. The father, who was extremely fond of his son, and besides
had observed that he seldom requested anything which was not generous
and humane, determined to see the Turk himself and talk to him.
"Accordingly he went to him the next day, and, observing him for some
time in silence, was struck with the extraordinary appearance of
mildness and honesty which his countenance discovered. At length he said
to him, 'Are you that Hamet of whom my son is so fond, and of whose
gentleness and courtesy I have so often heard him talk?' 'Yes,' said the
Turk, 'I am that unfortunate Hamet, who have now been for three years a
captive; during that space of time your son (if you are his father) is
the only human being that seems to have felt any compassion for my
sufferings; therefore, I must confess, he is the only object to which I
am attached in this barbarous country; and night and morning I pray
that Power, who is equally the God of Turks and Christians, to grant him
every blessing he deserves, and to preserve him from all the miseries I
suffer.'
"'Indeed, Hamet,' said the merchant, 'he is much obliged to you,
although, from his present circumstances, he does not appear much
exposed to danger. But tell me, for I wish to do you good, in what can I
assist you? for my son informs me that you are the prey of continual
regret and sorrow.'
"'Is it wonderful,' answered the Turk, with a glow of generous
indignation that suddenly animated his countenance, 'is it wonderful
that I should pine in silence, and mourn my fate, who am bereft of the
first and noblest present of nature--my liberty?' 'And yet,' answered
the Venetian, 'how many thousands of our nation do you retain in
fetters?'
"'I am not answerable,' said the Turk, 'for the cruelty of my
countrymen, more than you are for the barbarity of yours. But as to
myself, I have never practised the inhuman custom of enslaving my fellow
creatures; I have never spoiled the Venetian merchants of their property
to increase my riches; I have always respected the rights of nature, and
therefore it is the more severe.'----Here a tear started from his eye,
and wetted his manly cheek; instantly however, he recollected himself,
and folding his arm upon his bosom, and gently bowing his head, he
added, 'God is good, and man must submit to his decrees.'
"The Venetian was affected with this appearance of manly fortitude, and
said, 'Hamet, I pity your sufferings, and may perhaps be able to relieve
them. What would you do to regain your liberty?' 'What would I do!'
answered Hamet; 'by the eternal Majesty of Heaven, I would confront
every pain and danger that can appal the heart of man!' 'Nay,' answered
the merchant, 'you will not be exposed to a trial. The means of your
deliverance are certain, provided your courage does not belie your
appearance.' 'Name them! name them!' cried the impatient Hamet; 'place
death before me in every horrid shape, and if I shrink----'
"'Patience,' answered the merchant, 'we shall be observed; but hear me
attentively. I have in this city an inveterate foe, who has heaped upon
me every injury which can most bitterly sting the heart of man. This man
is brave as he is haughty; and I must confess that the dread of his
strength and valour has hitherto deterred me from resenting his insults
as they deserve. Now, Hamet, your look, your form, your words, convince
me that you were born for manly daring. Take this dagger; as soon as the
shades of night involve the city I will myself conduct you to the place
where you may at once revenge your friend and regain your freedom.'
"At this proposal, scorn and shame flashed from the kindling eye of
Hamet, and passion for a considerable time deprived him of the power of
utterance; at length he lifted his arm as high as his chains would
permit, and cried, with an indignant tone, 'Mighty prophet! and are
these the wretches to whom you permit your faithful votaries to be
enslaved! Go, base Christian, and know that Hamet would not stoop to
the vile trade of an assassin for all the wealth of Venice! no! not to
purchase the freedom of all his race!'
"At these words the merchant, without seeming much abashed, told him he
was sorry he had offended him; but that he thought freedom had been
dearer to him than he found it was. 'However,' added he, as he turned
his back, 'you will reflect upon my proposal, and perhaps by to-morrow
you may change your mind.' Hamet disdained to answer; and the merchant
went his way.
"The next day, however, he returned in company with his son, and mildly
accosted Hamet thus: 'The abruptness of the proposal I yesterday made
you might perhaps astonish you, but I am now come to discourse the
matter more calmly with you, and I doubt not, when you have heard my
reasons----'
"'Christian!' interrupted Hamet, with a severe but composed countenance,
'cease at length to insult the miserable with proposals more shocking
than even these chains. If thy religion permit such acts as those, know
that they are execrable and abominable to the soul of every Mohammedan;
therefore, from this moment, let us break off all further intercourse
and be strangers to each other.'
"'No,' answered the merchant, flinging himself into the arms of Hamet,
'let us from this moment be more closely linked than ever! Generous man,
whose virtues may at once disarm and enlighten thy enemies! Fondness for
my son first made me interested in thy fate; but from the moment that I
saw thee yesterday I determined to set thee free; therefore, pardon me
this unnecessary trial of thy virtue, which has only raised thee higher
in my esteem. Francisco has a soul which is as averse to deeds of
treachery and blood as even Hamet himself. From this moment, generous
man, thou art free; thy ransom is already paid, with no other obligation
than that of remembering the affection of this thy young and faithful
friend; and perhaps hereafter, when thou seest an unhappy Christian
groaning in Turkish fetters, thy generosity may make thee think of
Venice.'
"It is impossible to describe the ecstasies or the gratitude of Hamet at
this unexpected deliverance; I will not, therefore, attempt to repeat
what he said to his benefactors; I will only add that he was that day
set free, and Francisco embarked him on board a ship which was going to
one of the Grecian islands, took leave of him with the greatest
tenderness, and forced him to accept a purse of gold to pay his
expenses. Nor was it without the greatest regret that Hamet parted from
his young friend, whose disinterested kindness had thus procured his
freedom; he embraced him with an agony of tenderness, wept over him at
parting, and prayed for every blessing upon his head.
"About six months after this transaction a sudden fire burst forth in
the house of this generous merchant. It was early in the morning, when
sleep is the most profound, and none of the family perceived it till
almost the whole building was involved in flames. The frightened
servants had just time to waken the merchant and hurry him down stairs,
and the instant he was down, the staircase itself gave way and sunk with
a horrid crash into the midst of the fire.
"But if Francisco congratulated himself for an instant upon his escape,
it was only to resign himself immediately after to the most deep
despair, when he found, upon inquiry, that his son, who slept in an
upper apartment, had been neglected in the general tumult, and was yet
amidst the flames. No words can describe the father's agony; he would
have rushed headlong into the fire, but was restrained by his servants;
he then raved in an agony of grief, and offered half his fortune to the
intrepid man who would risk his life to save his child. As Francisco was
known to be immensely rich, several ladders were in an instant raised,
and several daring spirits, incited by the vast reward, attempted the
adventure. The violence of the flames, however, which burst forth at
every window, together with the ruins that fell on every side, drove
them all back; and the unfortunate youth, who now appeared upon the
battlements, stretching out his arms and imploring aid, seemed to be
destined to certain destruction.
"The unhappy father now lost all perception, and sunk down in a state of
insensibility, when, in this dreadful moment of general suspense and
agony, a man rushed through the opening crowd, mounted the tallest of
the ladders with an intrepidity that showed he was resolved to succeed
or perish, and instantly disappeared. A sudden gust of smoke and flame
burst forth immediately after, which made the people imagine he was
lost; when, on a sudden, they beheld him emerge again with the child in
his arms, and descend the ladder without any material damage. A
universal shout of applause now resounded to the skies; but what words
can give an adequate idea of the father's feelings, when, on recovering
his senses, he found his darling miraculously preserved, and safe within
his arms?
"After the first effusions of his tenderness were over, he asked for his
deliverer, and was shown a man of a noble stature, but dressed in mean
attire, and his features were so begrimed with smoke and filth that it
was impossible to distinguish them. Francisco, however, accosted him
with courtesy, and, presenting him with a purse of gold, begged he would
accept of that for the present, and that the next day he should receive
to the utmost of his promised reward. 'No, generous merchant,' answered
the stranger, 'I do not sell my blood.'
"'Gracious heavens!' cried the merchant, 'sure I should know that
voice?--It is----' 'Yes,' exclaimed the son, throwing himself into the
arms of his deliverer, 'it is my Hamet!'
"It was indeed Hamet, who stood before them in the same mean attire
which he had worn six months before, when the first generosity of the
merchant had redeemed him from slavery. Nothing could equal the
astonishment and gratitude of Francisco; but as they were then
surrounded by a large concourse of people, he desired Hamet to go with
him to the house of one of his friends, and when they were alone he
embraced him tenderly, and asked by what extraordinary chance he had
thus been enslaved a second time, adding a kind of reproach for his not
informing him of his captivity.
"'I bless God for that captivity,' answered Hamet, 'since it has given
me an opportunity of showing that I was not altogether undeserving of
your kindness, and of preserving the life of that dear youth, that I
value a thousand times beyond my own. But it is now fit that my generous
patron should be informed of the whole truth. Know, then, that when the
unfortunate Hamet was taken by your galleys, his aged father shared his
captivity--it was his fate which so often made me shed those tears which
first attracted the notice of your son; and when your unexampled bounty
had set me free, I flew to find the Christian who had purchased him. I
represented to him that I was young and vigorous, while he was aged and
infirm; I added, too, the gold which I had received from your bounty; in
a word, I prevailed upon the Christian to send back my father in that
ship which was intended for me, without acquainting him with the means
of his freedom; since that time I have staid here to discharge the debt
of nature and gratitude, a willing slave----'"
At this part of the story, Harry, who had with difficulty restrained
himself before, burst into such a fit of crying, and Tommy himself was
so much affected, that Mr Barlow told them they had better leave off for
the present and go to some other employment. They therefore went into
the garden to resume the labour of their house, but found, to their
unspeakable regret, that during their absence an accident had happened
which had entirely destroyed all their labours; a violent storm of wind
and rain had risen that morning, which, blowing full against the walls
of the newly-constructed house, had levelled it with the ground. Tommy
could scarcely refrain from crying when he saw the ruins lying around;
but Harry, who bore the loss with more composure, told him not to mind
it, for it could easily be repaired, and they would build it stronger
the next time.
Harry then went up to the spot, and after examining it some time, told
Tommy that he believed he had found out the reason of their misfortune.
"What is it?" said Tommy. "Why," said Harry, "it is only because we did
not drive these stakes, which are to bear the whole weight of our house,
far enough into the ground; and, therefore, when the wind blew against
the flat side of it with so much violence, it could not resist. And now
I remember to have seen the workman, when they begin a building, dig a
considerable way into the ground to lay the foundation fast; and I
should think that, if we drove these stakes a great way into the ground,
it would produce the same effect, and we should have nothing to fear
from any future storms."
Mr Barlow then came into the garden, and the two boys showed him their
misfortune, and asked him whether he did not think that driving the
stakes further in would prevent such an accident for the future. Mr
Barlow told them he thought it would; and that, as they were too short
to reach to the top of the stakes, he would assist them. He then went
and brought a wooden mallet, with which he struck the tops of the
stakes, and drove them so fast into the ground that there was no longer
any danger of their being shaken by the weather. Harry and Tommy then
applied themselves with so much assiduity to their work that they in a
very short time had repaired all the damage, and advanced it as far as
it had been before.
The next thing that was necessary to be done, was putting on a roof, for
hitherto they had constructed nothing but the walls. For this purpose
they took several long poles, which they had laid across their building
where it was most narrow, and upon these they placed straw in
considerable quantities, so that they now imagined they had constructed
a house that would completely screen them from the weather. But in this,
unfortunately, they were again mistaken; for a very violent shower of
rain coming just as they had finished their building, they took shelter
under it, and remarked for some time, with infinite pleasure, how dry
and comfortable it kept them; but at last the straw that covered it
being completely soaked through, and the water having no vent to run
off, by reason of the flatness of the roof, the rain began to penetrate
in considerable quantities.
For some time Harry and Tommy bore the inconvenience, but it increased
so much that they were soon obliged to leave it and seek for shelter in
the house. When they were thus secured, they began again to consider the
affair of the house, and Tommy said that it surely must be because they
had not put straw enough upon it. "No," said Harry, "I think that cannot
be the reason; I rather imagine that it must be owing to our roof lying
so flat; for I have observed that all houses that I have ever seen have
their roofs in a shelving posture, by which means the wet continually
runs off from them and falls to the ground; whereas ours, being quite
flat, detained almost all the rain that fell upon it, which must
necessarily soak deeper and deeper into the straw, till it penetrated
quite through."
They therefore agreed to remedy this defect; and for this purpose they
took several poles of an equal length, the one end of which they
fastened to the side of the house, and let the other two ends meet in
the middle, by which means they formed a roof exactly like that which we
commonly see upon buildings; they also took several poles, which they
tied across the others, to keep them firm in their places, and give the
roof additional strength; and lastly, they covered the whole with straw
or thatch; and for fear the thatch should be blown away, they stuck
several pegs in different places, and put small pieces of stick
crosswise from peg to peg, to keep the straw in its place. When this was
done they found they had a very tolerable house; only the sides, being
formed of brushwood alone, did not sufficiently exclude the wind. To
remedy this inconvenience, Harry, who was chief architect, procured some
clay, and mixing it up with water, to render it sufficiently soft, he
daubed it all over the walls, both within and without, by which means
the wind was excluded and the house rendered much warmer than before.