CHAPTER V.

Lost in the Snow--Jack Smithers' Home--Talk about the

Stars--Harry's pursuit of The Will-o'-the-Wisp--Story of the

Avalanche--Town and Country compared--The Power of the Lever--The

Balance--The Wheel and Axle--Arithmetic--Buying a Horse--History of

Agesilaus--History of Leonidas.

Some few days after this conversation, when the snow had nearly

disappeared, though the frost and cold continued, the two little boys

went out to take a walk. Insensibly they wandered so far that they

scarcely knew their way, and therefore resolved to return as speedily as

possible; but unfortunately, in passing through a wood, they entirely

missed the track, and lost themselves. To add to their distress, the

wind began to blow most bitterly from the north, and a violent shower of

snow coming on, obliged them to seek the thickest shelter they could

find. They happened fortunately to be near an aged oak, the inside of

which gradually decaying, was worn away by time, and afforded an ample

opening to shelter them from the storm. Into this the two little boys

crept safe, and endeavoured to keep each other warm, while a violent

shower of snow and sleet fell all around, and gradually covered the

earth. Tommy, who had been little used to hardships, bore it for some

time with fortitude, and without uttering a complaint. At length hunger

and fear took entire possession of his soul, and turning to Harry, with

watery eyes and a mournful voice, he asked him what they should do?

"Do?" said Harry, "we must wait here, I think, till the weather clears

up a little, and then we will endeavour to find the way home."

_Tommy._--But what if the weather should not clear up at all?

_Harry._--In that case we must either endeavour to find our way through

the snow, or stay here, where we are so conveniently sheltered.

_Tommy._--But oh! what a dreadful thing it is to be here all alone in

this dreary wood! And then I am so hungry and so cold; oh that we had

but a little fire to warm us!

_Harry._--I have heard that shipwrecked persons, when they have been

cast away upon a desert coast, have made a fire to warm themselves by

rubbing two pieces of wood together till they caught fire; or here is a

better thing; I have a large knife in my pocket, and if I could but find

a piece of flint, I could easily strike fire with the back of it.

Harry then searched about, and after some time found a couple of flints,

though not without much difficulty, as the ground was nearly hidden with

snow. He then took the flints, and striking one upon the other with all

his force, he shivered them into several pieces; out of those he chose

the thinnest and sharpest, and telling Tommy, with a smile, that he

believed that would do, he struck it several times against the back of

his knife, and thus produced several sparks of fire. "This," said Harry,

"will be sufficient to light a fire, if we can but find something of a

sufficiently combustible nature to kindle from these sparks." He then

collected the driest leaves he could find, with little decayed pieces of

wood, and piling them into a heap, endeavoured to kindle a blaze by the

sparks which he continually struck from his knife and the flint. But it

was in vain; the leaves were not of a sufficiently combustible nature,

and while he wearied himself in vain, they were not at all the more

advanced. Tommy, who beheld the ill success of his friend, began to be

more and more terrified, and in despair asked Harry again what they

should do. Harry answered, that as they had failed in their attempt to

warm themselves, the best thing they could do was to endeavour to find

their way home, more especially as the snow had now ceased, and the sky

was become much clearer. This Tommy consented to, and with infinite

difficulty they began their march; for, as the snow had completely

covered every tract, and the daylight began to fail, they wandered at

random through a vast and pathless wood. At every step which Tommy took

he sank almost to his knees in snow. The wind was bleak and cold, and it

was with much difficulty that Harry could prevail upon him to continue

his journey. At length, however, as they thus pursued their way with

infinite toil, they came to some lighted embers, which either some

labourers or some wandering passenger had lately quitted, and which were

yet unextinguished. "See," said Harry with joy, "see what a lucky

chance is this! here is a fire ready lighted for us, which needs only

the assistance of a little wood to make it burn." Harry again collected

all the dry pieces he could find, and piled them upon the embers, which

in a few minutes began to blaze, and diffused a cheerful warmth. Tommy

then began to warm and chafe his almost frozen limbs over the fire with

infinite delight. At length he could not help observing to Harry, that

he never could have believed that a few dried sticks could have been of

so much consequence to him. "Ah!" answered Harry, "Master Tommy, you

have been brought up in such a manner, that you never knew what it was

to want anything; but that is not the case with thousands and millions

of people. I have seen hundreds of poor children that have neither bread

to eat, fire to warm, nor clothes to cover them. Only think, then, what

a disagreeable situation they must be in; yet they are so accustomed to

hardship that they do not cry in a twelvemonth as much as you have done

within this quarter of an hour."

"Why," answered Tommy, a little disconcerted at the observation of his

crying, "it cannot be expected that gentlemen should be able to bear all

these inconveniences as well as the poor." "Why not," answered Harry,

"is not a gentleman as much a man as the poor can be? and if he is a

man, should he not accustom himself to support everything that his

fellow-creatures do?"

_Tommy._--That is very true; but he will have all the conveniences of

life provided for him; victuals to eat, a good warm bed, and a fire to

warm him.

_Harry._--But he is not sure of having all these things as long as he

lives. Besides, I have often observed the gentlemen and ladies in our

neighbourhood riding about in coaches, and covered from head to foot,

yet shaking with the least breath of air, as if they all had agues,

while the children of the poor run about barefooted upon the ice, and

divert themselves with making snow-balls.

_Tommy._--That is indeed true; for I have seen my mother's visitors

sitting over the largest fire that could be made, and complaining of

cold, while the labourers out of doors were stripped to their shirts to

work, and never minded it in the least.

_Harry._--Then I should think that exercise, by which a person can warm

himself when he pleases, is an infinitely better thing than all these

conveniences you speak of; because, after all, they will not hinder a

person from being cold, but exercise will warm him in an instant.

_Tommy._--But then it is not proper for gentlemen to do the same kind of

work with the common people.

_Harry._--But is it not proper for a gentleman to have his body stout

and hardy?

_Tommy._--To be sure it is.

_Harry._--Why, then, he must sometimes labour and use his limbs, or else

he will never be able to do it.

_Tommy._--What! cannot a person be strong without working?

_Harry._--You can judge for yourself. You very often have fine young

gentlemen at your father's house, and are any of them as strong as the

sons of the farmers in the neighbourhood, who are always used to handle

a hoe, a spade, a fork, and other tools?

_Tommy._--Indeed, I believe that is true, for I think I am become

stronger myself since I have learned to divert myself in Mr Barlow's

garden.

As they were conversing in this manner, a little boy came singing along,

with a bundle of sticks at his back; and as soon as Harry saw him, he

recollected him, and cried out, "As I am alive, here as I am is Jack

Smithers, the little ragged boy that you gave the clothes to in the

summer! He lives, I dare say, in the neighbourhood, and either he or his

father will now show us the way home."

[Illustration: "As I am alive, here is Jack Smithers, the little ragged

boy that you gave the clothes to in the summer!"

_P. 202._]

Harry then spoke to the boy, and asked him if he could show them the way

out of the wood. "Yes, surely I can," answered the boy; "but I never

should have thought of seeing Master Merton out so late in such a

tempestuous night as this; but, if you will come with me to my father's

cottage, you may warm yourself at our fire, and father will run to Mr

Barlow to let him know you are safe."

Tommy accepted the offer with joy, and the little boy led them out of

the wood, and in a few minutes they came to a small cottage which stood

by the side of the road, which, when they entered, they saw a

middle-aged woman busy in spinning; the eldest girl was cooking some

broth over the fire; the father was sitting in the chimney-corner, and

reading a book, while three or four ragged children were tumbling upon

the floor, and creeping between their father's legs.

"Daddy," said the little boy, as he came in, "here is Master Merton, who

was so good to us all in the summer; he has lost his way in the wood,

and is almost perished in the snow."

The man upon this arose, and with much civility desired the two little

boys to seat themselves by the fire, while the good woman ran to fetch

her largest faggot, which she threw upon the fire, and created a

cheerful blaze in an instant. "There, my dear little master," said she,

"you may at least refresh yourself by our fire, and I wish I had

anything to offer you that you could eat; but I am afraid you would

never be able to bear such coarse brown bread as we poor folks are

obliged to eat." "Indeed," said Tommy, "my good mother, I have fasted so

long, and I am so hungry, that I think I could eat anything." "Well,

then," answered the woman, "here is a little bit of gammon of bacon

which I will broil for you upon the embers, and if you can make a supper

you are heartily welcome."

While the good woman was thus preparing supper the man had closed his

book, and placed it with great respect upon a shelf, which gave Tommy

the curiosity to ask him what he was reading about. "Master," answered

the man, "I was reading the Book which teaches me my duty towards man,

and my obligations to God; I was reading the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and

teaching it to my children."

_Tommy._--Indeed, I have heard of that good Book; Mr Barlow has often

read part of it to me, and promised I should read it myself. That is the

Book they read at church; I have often heard Mr Barlow read it to the

people; and he always reads it so well and so affectingly that everybody

listens, and you may hear even a pin drop upon the pavement.

_The Man._--Yes, master, Mr Barlow is a worthy servant and follower of

Jesus Christ himself; he is the friend of all the poor in the

neighbourhood; he gives us food and medicines when we are ill, and he

employs us when we can find no work; but what we are even more obliged

to him for than the giving us food and raiment, and life itself, he

instructs us in our duty, makes us ashamed of our faults, and teaches us

how we may be happy, not only here, but in another world. I was once an

idle, abandoned man myself, given up to swearing and drinking,

neglecting my family, and taking no thought for my poor wife and

children; but since Mr Barlow has taught me better things, and made me

acquainted with this blessed book, my life and manners, I hope, are much

amended, and I do my duty better to my poor family.

"That indeed you do, Robin," answered the woman; "there is not now a

better and kinder husband in the world; you have not wasted an idle

penny or a moment's time these two years; and, without that unfortunate

fever, which prevented you from working last harvest, we should have the

greatest reason to be contented."

"Have we not the greatest reason now," answered the man, "to be not only

contented, but thankful for all the blessings we enjoy? It is true that

I, and several of the children, were ill this year for many weeks; but

did we not all escape, through the blessing of God, and the care of good

Mr Barlow and this worthy Master Sandford, who brought us victuals so

many days, with his own hands, when we otherwise should perhaps have

starved? Have I not had very good employment ever since; and do I not

now earn six shillings a-week, which is a very comfortable thing, when

many poor wretches as good as I are starving, because they cannot find

employment?"

"Six shillings a-week! six shillings a-week!" answered Tommy in

amazement; "and is that all you and your wife and children have to live

on for a whole week!"

_The Man._--Not all, master; my wife sometimes earns a shilling or

eighteenpence a-week by spinning, and our eldest daughter begins to do

something that way, but not much.

_Tommy._--That makes seven shillings and sixpence a-week. Why, I have

known my mother give more than that to go to a place where outlandish

people sing. I have seen her and other ladies give a man a guinea for

dressing their hair; and I know a little miss, whose father gives

half-a-guinea a time to a little Frenchman, who teaches her to jump and

caper about the room.

"Master," replied the man, smiling, "these are great gentlefolks that

you are talking about; they are very rich, and have a right to do what

they please with their own; it is the duty of us poor folks to labour

hard, take what we can get, and thank the great and wise God that our

condition is no worse."

_Tommy._--What! and is it possible that you can thank God for living in

such a house as this, and earning seven shillings and sixpence a-week?

_The Man._--To be sure I can, master. Is it not an act of His goodness

that we have clothes and a warm house to shelter us, and wholesome food

to eat? It was but yesterday that two poor men came by, who had been

cast away in a storm, and lost their ship and all they had. One of the

poor men had scarcely any clothes to cover him, and was shaking all over

with a violent ague; and the other had his toes almost mortified by

walking bare-footed in the snow. Am I not a great deal better off than

these poor men, and perhaps than a thousand others, who are at this time

tossed about upon the waves, or cast away, or wandering about the world,

without a shed to cover them from the weather; or imprisoned for debt?

Might I not have gone on in committing bad actions, like many other

unhappy men, till I had been guilty of some notorious crime, which might

have brought me to a shameful end? And ought not I to be grateful for

all these blessings which I possess without deserving them?

Tommy, who had hitherto enjoyed all the good things of this life,

without reflecting from whom he had received them, was very much struck

with the piety of this honest and contented man; but as he was going to

answer, the good woman, who had laid a clean, though coarse, cloth upon

the table, and taken up her savoury supper in an earthen plate, invited

them to sit down; an invitation which both the boys obeyed with the

greatest pleasure, as they had eaten nothing since the morning. In the

meantime the honest man of the house had taken his hat and walked to Mr

Barlow's, to inform him that his two pupils were safe in the

neighbourhood.

Mr Barlow had long suffered the greatest uneasiness at their absence,

and not contented with sending after them on every side, was at that

very time busy in the pursuit, so that the man met him about half-way

from his own house. As soon as Mr Barlow heard the good news, he

determined to return with the man, and reached his house just as Tommy

Merton had finished one of the heartiest meals he had ever made.

The little boys rose up to meet Mr Barlow, and thanked him for his

kindness, and the pains he had taken to look after them, expressing

their concern for the accident which had happened, and the uneasiness

which, without designing it, they had occasioned; but he, with the

greatest good-nature, advised them to be more cautious for the future,

and not to extend their walks so far; then, thanking the worthy people

of the house, he offered to conduct them, and they all three set out

together in a very cold, but fine and star-light evening.

As they went home Mr Barlow renewed his caution, and told them the

dangers they had incurred. "Many people," said he, "in your situation,

have been surprised by an unexpected storm, and, losing their way, have

perished with cold. Sometimes, both men and beasts, not being able to

discern their accustomed track, have fallen into deep pits filled up and

covered with the snow, where they have been found buried several feet

deep, and frozen to death." "And is it impossible," said Tommy, "in such

a case to escape?" "In general it is," said Mr Barlow; "but there have

been some extraordinary instances of persons who have lived several days

in that condition, and yet have been taken out alive; to-morrow you

shall read a remarkable story to that purpose."

As they were walking on, Tommy looked up at the sky, where all the stars

glimmered with unusual brightness, and said, "What an innumerable number

of stars is here! I think I never observed so many before in all my

life!" "Innumerable as they appear to you," said Mr Barlow, "there are

persons that have not only counted all you now see, but thousands more,

which are at present invisible to your eye." "How can that be?" inquired

Tommy, "for there is neither beginning nor end; they are scattered so

confusedly about the sky, that I should think it as impossible to number

them, as the flakes of snow that fell to-day while we were in the wood."

At this Mr Barlow smiled, and said, that he believed Harry could give

him a different account, although perhaps he could not number them all.

"Harry," said he, "cannot you show your companion some of the

constellations?" "Yes," answered Harry, "I believe I remember some that

you have been so good as to teach me." "But pray, sir," said Tommy,

"what is a constellation?"

"Those," answered Mr Barlow, "who first began to observe the heavens as

you do now, have observed certain stars, remarkable either for their

brightness or position. To these they have given a particular name that

they might the more easily know them again, and discourse of them to

others; and these particular clusters of stars, thus joined together and

named, they call _constellations_. But come, Harry, you are a little

farmer, and can certainly point out to us Charles' Wain."

Harry then looked up to the sky, and pointed out seven very bright

stars towards the north. "You are right," said Mr Barlow; "four of these

stars have put the common people in mind of the four wheels of a waggon,

and the three others of the horses, therefore they have called them by

this name. Now, Tommy, look well at these, and see if you can find any

seven stars in the whole sky that resemble them in their position."

_Tommy._--Indeed, sir, I do not think I can.

_Mr Barlow._--Do you not think, then, that you can find them again?

_Tommy._--I will try, sir. Now, I will take my eye off, and look another

way. I protest I cannot find them again. Oh! I believe, there they are.

Pray, sir (pointing with his finger), is not that Charles' Wain?

_Mr Barlow._--You are right; and, by remembering these stars, you may

very easily observe those which are next to them, and learn their names

too, till you are acquainted with the whole face of the heavens.

_Tommy._--That is indeed very clever and very surprising. I will show my

mother Charles' Wain the first time I go home; I daresay she has never

observed it.

_Mr Barlow._--But look on the two stars which compose the hinder wheel

of the waggon, and raise your eye up towards the top of the sky; do you

not see a very bright star, that seems to be almost, but not quite, in a

line with the two others?

_Tommy._--Yes, sir; I see it plainly.

_Mr Barlow._--That is called the Pole-star; it never moves from its

place, and by looking full at it, you may always find the north.

_Tommy._--Then if I turn my face towards that star, I always look to the

north.

_Mr Barlow._--You are right.

_Tommy._--Then I shall turn my back to the south.

_Mr Barlow._--You are right again; and now cannot you find the east and

the west?

_Tommy._--Is it not the east where the sun rises?

_Mr Barlow._--Yes; but there is no sun to direct you now.

_Tommy._--Then, sir, I cannot find it out.

_Mr Barlow._--Do not you know, Harry?

_Harry._--I believe, sir, that if you turn your face to the north, the

east will be on the right hand, and the west on the left.

_Mr Barlow._--Perfectly right.

_Tommy._--That is very clever indeed; so then, by knowing the Pole-star,

I can always find north, east, west, and south. But you said that the

Pole-star never moves; do the other stars, then, move out of their

places?

_Mr Barlow._--That is a question you may learn to answer yourself, by

observing the present appearance of the heavens, and then examining

whether the stars change their places at any future time.

_Tommy._--But, sir, I have thought that it would be a good contrivance,

in order to remember their situation, if I were to draw them upon a bit

of paper.

_Mr Barlow._--But how would you do that?

_Tommy._--I would make a mark upon the paper for every star in Charles'

Wain; and I would place the marks just as I see the stars placed in the

sky; and I would entreat you to write the names for me; and this I

would do till I was acquainted with all the stars in the heavens.

_Mr Barlow._--That would be an excellent way, but you see a paper is

flat; is that the form of the sky?

_Tommy._--No; the sky seems to rise from the earth on every side, like

the dome of a great church.

_Mr Barlow._--Then if you were to have some round body, I should think

it would correspond to the different parts of the sky, and you might

place your stars with more exactness.

_Tommy._--That is true, indeed, sir; I wish I had just such a globe.

_Mr Barlow._--Well, just such a globe I will endeavour to procure you.

_Tommy._--Sir, I am much obliged to you, indeed. But of what use is it

to know the stars?

_Mr Barlow._--Were there no other use, I should think there would be a

very great pleasure in observing such a number of glorious glittering

bodies as are now above us. We sometimes run to see a procession of

coaches, or a few people in fine clothes strutting about. We admire a

large room that is painted, and ornamented, and gilded; but what is

there in all these things to be compared with the sight of these

luminous bodies that adorn every part of the sky?

_Tommy._--That's true, indeed. My Lord Wimple's great room that I have

heard all the people admire so much, is no more to be compared to it

than the shabbiest thing in the world.

_Mr Barlow._--That is indeed true; but there are some, and those very

important, uses to be derived from an acquaintance with the stars.

Harry, do you tell Master Merton the story of your being lost upon the

great moor.

_Harry._--You must know, Master Tommy, that I have an uncle who lives

about three miles off, across the great moor that we have sometimes

walked upon. Now, my father, as I am in general pretty well acquainted

with the roads, very often sends me with messages to my uncle. One

evening I went there so late, that it was scarcely possible to get home

again before it was quite dark. It was at that time in the month of

October. My uncle wished me very much to stay at his house all night,

but that was not proper for me to do, because my father had ordered me

to come back; so I set out as soon as I possibly could, but just as I

had reached the heath, the evening grew extremely dark.

_Tommy._--And were not you frightened to find yourself all alone upon

such a dismal place?

_Harry._--No; I knew the worst that could happen would be that I should

stay there all night, and as soon as ever the morning shone, I should

have found my way home. But, however, by the time that I had reached the

middle of the heath, there came on such a violent tempest of wind,

blowing full in my face, accompanied with such a shower, that I found it

impossible to continue my way. So I quitted the track, which is never

very easy to find, and ran aside to a holly-bush that was growing at

some distance, in order to seek a little shelter. Here, I lay, very

conveniently, till the storm was almost over; then I rose and attempted

to continue my way, but unfortunately I missed the track, and lost

myself.

_Tommy._--That was a very dismal thing indeed.

_Harry._--I wandered about a great while, but still to no purpose. I had

not a single mark to direct me, because the common is so extensive, and

so bare either of trees or houses, that one may walk for miles and see

nothing but heath and furze. Sometimes I tore my legs in scrambling

through great thickets of furze; now and then I plumped into a hole full

of water, and should have been drowned if I had not learned to swim; so

that at last I was going to give it up in despair, when, looking on one

side, I saw a light at a little distance, which seemed to be a candle

and lantern that somebody was carrying across the moor.

_Tommy._--Did not that give you very great comfort?

"You shall hear," answered Harry, smiling. "At first I was doubtful

whether I should go up to it; but I considered that it was not worth

anybody's pains to hurt a poor boy like me, and that no person who was

out on any ill design, would probably choose to carry a light. So I

determined boldly to go up to it, and inquire the way."

_Tommy._--And did the person with the candle and lantern direct you?

_Harry._--I began walking up towards it, when immediately the light,

which I had first observed on my right hand, moving slowly along by my

side, changed its direction, and went directly before me, with about the

same degree of swiftness. I thought this very odd; but I still continued

the chase, and just as I thought I had approached very near, I tumbled

into another pit full of water.

_Tommy._--That was unlucky indeed.

_Harry._--Well, I scrambled out, and very luckily on the same side with

the light, which I began to follow again, but with as little success as

ever. I had now wandered many miles about the common; I knew no more

where I was than if I had been set down upon an unknown country; I had

no hopes of finding my way home, unless I could reach this wandering

light; and, though I could not conceive that the person who carried it

could know of my being so near, he seemed to act as if he was determined

to avoid me. However, I was resolved to make one attempt, and therefore

I began to run as fast as I was able, hallooing out, at the same time,

to the person that I thought before me, to entreat him to stop.

_Tommy._--And did he?

_Harry._--Instead of that, the light, which had before been moving along

at a slow and easy pace, now began to dance as it were before me, ten

times faster than before, so that instead of overtaking it, I found

myself farther and farther behind. Still, however, I ran on, till I

unwarily sunk up to the middle in a large bog, out of which I at last

scrambled with a very great difficulty. Surprised at this, and not

conceiving that any human being could pass over such a bog as this, I

determined to pursue it no longer. But now I was wet and weary; the

clouds had indeed rolled away, and the moon and stars began to shine. I

looked around me, and could discern nothing but a wide, barren country,

without so much as a tree to shelter me, or any animal in sight. I

listened, in hopes of hearing a sheepbell, or the barking of a dog; but

nothing met my ear, except the shrill whistling of the wind, which blew

so cold that it chilled me to the very heart. In this situation I

stopped a while to consider what I should do; and raising my eyes by

accident to the sky, the first object I beheld was that very

constellation of Charles' Wain, and above it I discerned the Pole-star,

glimmering, as it were, from the very top of heaven. Instantly a thought

came into my mind; I considered, that when I had been walking along the

road which led towards my uncle's house I had often observed the

Pole-star full before me; therefore it occurred to me, that if I turned

my back exactly upon it, and went straight forward in a contrary

direction, it must lead me towards my father's house. As soon as I had

formed this resolution, I began to execute it. I was persuaded I should

now escape, and therefore, forgetting my fatigue, I ran along as briskly

as if I had but then set out. Nor was I disappointed; for though I could

see no tracks, yet, taking the greatest care always to go on in that

direction, the moon afforded me light enough to avoid the pits and bogs

which are found in various parts of that wild moor; and when I had

travelled, as I imagined, about three miles, I heard the barking of a

dog, which gave me double vigour; and going a little farther, I came to

some enclosures at the skirts of the common, which I knew, so that I

then with ease found my way home, after having almost despaired of doing

it.

_Tommy._--Indeed, then, the knowledge of the Pole-star was of very great

use to you. I am determined I will make myself acquainted with all the

stars in the heavens. But did you ever find out what that light was,

which danced before you in so extraordinary a manner?

_Harry._--When I came home, my father told me it was what the common

people called a _Jack-o'-the-lantern_; and Mr Barlow has since informed

me that these things are only vapours, which rise out of the earth in

moist and fenny places, although they have that bright appearance; and

therefore told me that many people, like me, who have taken them for a

lighted candle, have followed them, as I did, into bogs and ditches.

Just as Harry had finished his story, they arrived at Mr Barlow's; and

after sitting some time, and talking over the accidents of the day, the

little boys retired to bed. Mr Barlow was sitting alone and reading in

his parlour, when, to his great surprise, Tommy came running into the

room, half undressed, and bawling out, "Sir, sir, I have found it out!

they move! they move!" "What moves?" said Mr Barlow. "Why, Charles' Wain

moves," answered Tommy; "I had a mind to take one peep at the sky before

I went to bed, and I see that all the seven stars have moved from their

places a great way higher up the sky." "Well," said Mr Barlow, "you are

indeed right. You have done a vast deal to-day, and to-morrow we will

talk over these things again."

When the morrow came, Tommy put Mr Barlow in mind of the story he had

promised him about the people buried in the snow. Mr Barlow looked him

out the book, but first said, "It is necessary to give you some

explanation. The country where this accident happened is a country full

of rocks and mountains, so excessively high that the snow never melts

upon their tops." "Never?" said Tommy; "not even in the summer?" "Not

even in the summer. The valleys between these mountains are inhabited by

a brave and industrious people; the sides of them, too, are cultivated,

but the tops of the highest mountains are so extremely cold that the ice

and snow never melt, but go on continually increasing. During a great

part of the winter the weather is extremely cold, and the inhabitants

confine themselves within their houses, which they have the art to

render very comfortable. Almost all the roads are then impassable, and

snow and ice afford the only prospect. But when the year begins to grow

warmer, the snow is frequently thawed upon the sides of the mountains,

and undermined by the torrents of water, which pour down with

irresistible fury. Hence it frequently happens that such prodigious

masses of snow fall down as are sufficient to bury beasts and houses,

and even villages themselves, beneath them.

"It was in the neighbourhood of these prodigious mountains, which are

called the _Alps_, that, on the 19th of March 1755, a small cluster of

houses was entirely overwhelmed by two vast bodies of snow that tumbled

down upon them from a greater height. All the inhabitants were then

within doors, except one Joseph Rochia, and his son, a lad of fifteen,

who were on the roof of their house clearing away the snow, which had

fallen for three days incessantly. A priest going by to church advised

them to come down, having just before observed a body of snow tumbling

from the mountain towards them. The man descended with great

precipitation, and fled with his son he knew not whither; but scarcely

had he gone thirty or forty steps before his son, who followed him, fell

down; on which, looking back, he saw his own and his neighbours' houses,

in which were twenty-two persons in all, covered with a high mountain of

snow. He lifted up his son, and reflecting that his wife, his sister,

two children, and all his effects, were thus buried, he fainted away;

but, soon reviving, got safe to a friend's house at some distance.

"Five days after, Joseph, being perfectly recovered, got upon the snow,

with his son and two of his wife's brothers, to try if he could find the

exact place where his house stood; but, after many openings made in the

snow, they could not discover it. The month of April proving hot, and

the snow beginning to soften, he again used his utmost endeavours to

recover his effects, and to bury, as he thought, the remains of his

family. He made new openings, and threw in earth to melt the snow, which

on the 24th of April was greatly diminished. He broke through ice six

English feet thick, with iron bars, thrust down a long pole and touched

the ground; but evening coming on, he desisted.

"The next day the brother of his wife, who had heard of the misfortunes

of the family, came to the house where Joseph was, and after resting

himself a little, went with him to work upon the snow, where they made

another opening, which led them to the house they searched for; but,

finding no dead bodies in its ruins, they sought for the stable, which

was about two hundred and forty English feet distant, which, having

found, they heard the cry of 'Help, my dear brother!' Being greatly

surprised, as well as encouraged by these words, they laboured with all

diligence till they had made a large opening, through which the brother

immediately went down, where the sister, with an agonising and feeble

voice, told him 'I have always trusted in God and you, that you would

not forsake me.' The other brother and the husband then went down, and

found, still alive, the wife, about forty-five, the sister, about

thirty-five, and the daughter, about thirteen years old. These they

raised on their shoulders to men above, who pulled them up as if from

the grave, and carried them to a neighbouring house; they were unable to

walk, and so wasted that they appeared like mere skeletons. They were

immediately put to bed, and gruel of rye-flour and a little butter was

given to recover them.

"Some days after, the magistrate of the place came to visit them, and

found the wife still unable to rise from bed, or use her feet from the

intense cold she had endured, and the uneasy posture she had been in.

The sister, whose legs had been bathed with hot wine, could walk with

some difficulty, and the daughter needed no further remedies.

"On the magistrate's interrogating the women, they told him that, on the

morning of the 19th of March, they were in the stable with a boy of six

years old, and a girl of about thirteen. In the same stable were six

goats, one of which having brought forth two dead kids the night before,

they went to carry her a small vessel of rye-flour gruel; there were

also an ass, and five or six fowls. They were sheltering themselves in a

warm corner of the stable till the church-bell should ring, intending to

attend the service. The wife related that, wanting to go out of the

stable to kindle a fire in the house of her husband, who was clearing

away the snow from the top of it, she perceived a mass of snow breaking

down towards the east, upon which she went back into the stable, shut

the door, and told her sister of it. In less than three minutes they

heard the roof break over their heads, and also a part of the ceiling.

The sister advised to get into the rack and manger, which they did. The

ass was tied to the manger, but got loose by kicking and struggling, and

threw down the little vessel, which they found, and afterwards used to

hold the melted snow, which served them for drink.

"Very fortunately the manger was under the main prop of the stable, and

so resisted the weight of the snow. Their first care was to know what

they had to eat. The sister said she had fifteen chestnuts in her

pockets; the children said they had breakfasted, and should want no more

that day. They remembered there were thirty-six or forty cakes in a

place near the stable, and endeavoured to get at them, but were not able

for the snow. They called often for help, but were heard by none. The

sister gave the chestnuts to the wife, and ate two herself, and they

drank some snow-water. The ass was restless, and the goats kept bleating

for some days, after which they heard no more of them. Two of the goats,

however, being left alive and near the manger, they felt them, and found

that one of them was big, and would kid, as they recollected, about the

middle of April; the other gave milk, wherewith they preserved their

lives. During all this time they saw not one ray of light, yet for about

twenty days they had some notice of night and day from the crowing of

the fowls, till they died.

"The second day, being very hungry, they ate all the chestnuts, and

drank what milk the goat yielded, being very near two quarts a-day at

first, but it soon decreased. The third day they attempted again, but in

vain, to get at the cakes; so resolved to take all possible care to feed

the goats; for just above the manger was a hay-loft, where, through a

hole, the sister pulled down hay into the rack, and gave it to the goats

as long as she could reach it, and then, when it was beyond her reach,

the goats climbed upon her shoulders and reached it themselves.

"On the sixth day the boy sickened, and six days after desired his

mother, who all this time had held him in her lap, to lay him at his

length in the manger. She did so, and taking him by the hand felt it was

very cold; she then put her hand to his mouth, and finding that cold

likewise, she gave him a little milk; the boy then cried, 'Oh, my father

is in the snow! Oh father! father!' and then expired.

"In the meanwhile the goat's milk diminished daily, and, the fowls soon

after dying, they could no longer distinguish night from day; but

according to their reckoning, the time was near when the other goat

would kid; this she accordingly did soon, and the young one dying, they

had all the milk for their own subsistence; so they found that the

middle of April was come. Whenever they called this goat, it would come

and lick their faces and hands, and gave them every day two quarts of

milk, on which account they still bear the poor creature a great

affection.

"This was the account which these poor people gave to the magistrate of

their preservation."

"Dear heart!" said Tommy, when Mr Barlow had finished this account,

"what a number of accidents people are subject to in this world." "It is

very true," answered Mr Barlow; "but as that is the case, it is

necessary to improve ourselves in every manner, that we may be able to

struggle against them."

_Tommy._--Indeed, sir, I begin to believe it is; for when I was less

than I am now, I remember I was always fretful and hurting myself,

though I had two or three people constantly to take care of me. At

present I seem as if I was quite another thing; I do not mind falling

down and hurting myself, or cold, or weariness, or scarcely anything

which happens.

_Mr Barlow._--And which do you prefer; to be as you are now, or as you

were before?

_Tommy._--As I am now, a great deal, sir; for then I always had

something or another the matter with me. Sometimes I had a little cold,

and then I was obliged to stay in for several days; sometimes a little

headache, and then I was forced to take physic; sometimes the weather

was too hot, then I must stay within, and the same if it was too cold; I

used to be tired to death, if I did but walk a mile, and I was always

eating cake and sweetmeats till I made myself sick. At present I think I

am ten times stronger and healthier than ever I was in my life. But what

a terrible country that must be, where people are subject to be buried

in that manner in the snow! I wonder anybody will live there.

_Mr Barlow._--The people who inhabit that country are of a different

opinion, and prefer it to all the countries in the world. They are great

travellers, and many of them follow different professions in all the

different countries of Europe; but it is the only wish of almost all to

return, before their death, to the mountains where they were born and

have passed their youth.

_Tommy._--I do not easily understand that. I have seen a great many

ladies and little misses at our house, and whenever they were talking of

the places where they should like to live, I have always heard them say

that they hated the country of all things, though they were born and

bred there. I have heard one say the country is odious, filthy,

shocking, and abominable; another, that it is impossible to live

anywhere but in London; and I remember once seeing a strange lady, who

wrote down her observations in a book, and she said the country was all

full of barbarians, and that no person of elegance (yes, that was her

word) could bear it for a week.

_Mr Barlow._--And yet there are thousands who bear to live in it all

their lives, and have no desire to change. Should you, Harry, like to

leave the country, and go to live in some town?

_Harry._--Indeed, sir, I should not, for then I must leave everything I

love in the world. I must leave my father and mother, who have been so

kind to me; and you, too, sir, who have taken such pains to improve me,

and make me good. I am convinced that I never shall find such friends

again as long as I live; and what should anybody wish to live for who

has no friends? Besides, there is not a field upon my father's farm that

I do not prefer to every town I ever saw in my life.

_Tommy._--And have you ever been in any large town?

_Harry._--Once I was in Exeter, but I did not much like it; the houses

seemed to me to stand so thick and close, that I think our hog-sties

would be almost as agreeable places to live in; and then there are

little narrow alleys where the poor live; and the houses are so high,

that neither light nor air can ever get to them, and the most of them

appeared so dirty and unhealthy, that it made my heart ache to look at

them. And then I walked along the streets, and peeped into the

shops--and what do you think I saw?

_Tommy._--What?

_Harry._--Why, I saw great hulking fellows, as big as our ploughmen and

carters, with their heads all frizzled and curled like one of our

sheep's tails, that did nothing but finger ribbons and caps for the

women! This diverted me so, that I could not help laughing ready to

split my sides. And then the gentlewoman, at whose house I was, took me

to a place where there was a large room full of candles, and a greater

number of fine gentlemen and ladies, all dressed out and showy, who were

dancing about as if they were mad. But at the door of this house there

were twenty or thirty ragged, half-starved women and children, who stood

shivering in the rain, and begged for a bit of bread; but nobody gave it

to them, or took any notice of them. So then I could not help thinking

that it would be a great deal better if all the fine people would give

some of their money to the poor, that they might have some clothes and

victuals in their turn.

_Tommy._--That is indeed true. Had I been there I should have relieved

the poor people; for you know I am very good-natured and generous; but

it is necessary for gentlemen to be fine and to dress well.

_Harry._--It may be so; but I never saw any great good come of it, for

my part. As I was walking along the streets one day, and staring about,

I met two very fine and dressy young gentlemen, who looked something as

you did, Master Tommy, when you first came here; so I turned off from

the foot-way to let them pass, for my father always taught me to show

civility to people in a higher station; but that was not enough, it

seems, for just as they passed by me they gave me such a violent push,

that down I came into the kennel, and dirtied myself all over from head

to foot.

_Tommy._--And did they not beg your pardon for the accident?

_Harry._--Accident! it was no accident at all; for they burst out into a

fit of laughter, and called me a little clodpole. Upon which I told

them, if I was a clodpole they had no business to insult me; and then

they came back, and one of them gave me a kick, and the other a slap on

the face; but I told them that was too much for me to bear, so I struck

them again, and we all three began fighting.

_Tommy._--What! both at once? That was a cowardly trick.

_Harry._--I did not much mind that; but there came up a fine smart

fellow, in white stockings and powdered hair, who it seems, was their

servant, and he was going to fall upon me too; but a man took my part,

and said, I should have fair play, so I fought them both till they did

not choose to have any more; for, though they were so quarrelsome, they

could not fight worth a farthing; so I let them go, and advised them not

to meddle any more with poor boys who did nothing to offend them.

_Tommy._--And did you hear no more of these young gentlemen?

_Harry._--No; for I went home the next day, and never was I better

pleased in my life. When I came to the top of the great hill, from which

you have a prospect of our house, I really thought I should have cried

with joy. The fields looked all so pleasant, and the cattle that were

feeding in them so happy; then every step I took I met with somebody or

other I knew, or some little boy that I used to play with. "Here is

little Harry come back," said one. "How do you do; how do you do?" cried

a second. Then a third shook hands with me; and the very cattle, when I

went to see them, seemed all glad that I was come home again.

_Mr Barlow._--You see by this that it is very possible for people to

like the country, and be happy in it. But as to the fine young ladies

you talk of, the truth is, that they neither love, nor would be long

contented in any place; their whole happiness consists in idleness and

finery; they have neither learned to employ themselves in anything

useful, nor to improve their minds. As to every kind of natural

exercise, they are brought up with too much delicacy to be able to bear

it, and from the improper indulgences they meet with, they learn to

tremble at every trifling change of the seasons. With such dispositions,

it is no wonder they dislike the _country_, where they find neither

employment nor amusement. They wish to go to _London_, because there

they meet with infinite numbers as idle and frivolous as themselves; and

these people mutually assist each other to talk about trifles, and waste

their time.

_Tommy._--That is true, sir, really; for, when we have a great deal of

company, I have often observed that they never talked about anything but

eating or dressing, or men and women that are paid to make faces at the

playhouse, or a great room called _Ranelagh_, where everybody goes to

meet his friends.

_Mr Barlow._--I believe Harry will never go there to meet his friends.

_Harry._--Indeed, sir, I do not know what Ranelagh is; but all the

friends I have are at home; and when I sit by the fireside on a winter's

night, and read to my father and mother, and sister, as I sometimes do,

or when I talk with you and Master Tommy upon improving subjects, I

never desire any other friends or conversation. But, pray sir, what is

Ranelagh?

_Mr Barlow._--Ranelagh is a very large round room, to which, at

particular times of the year, great numbers of persons go in their

carriages to walk about for several hours.

_Harry._--And does nobody go there that has not several friends? Because

Master Tommy said that people went to Ranelagh to meet their friends.

Mr Barlow smiled at this question, and answered, "The room is generally

so crowded, that people have little opportunity for any kind of

conversation. They walk round the room in a circle, one after the other,

just like horses in a mill. When persons meet that know each other, they

perhaps smile and bow, but are shoved forward, without having any

opportunity to stop. As to _friends_, few people go to look for them

there; and if they were to meet them, few would take the trouble of

speaking to them, unless they were dressed in a fashionable manner, and

seemed to be of _consequence_."

_Harry._--That is very extraordinary, indeed. Why, sir, what can a man's

dress have to do with friendship? Should I love you a bit better if you

were to wear the finest clothes in the world; or should I like my father

the better if he were to put on a laced coat like Squire Chase? On the

contrary, whenever I see people dressed very fine, I cannot help

thinking of the story you once read me of Agesilaus, king of Sparta.

_Tommy._--What is that story? Do let me hear it.

_Mr Barlow._--To-morrow you shall hear it; at present we have read and

conversed enough; it is better that you should go out and amuse

yourselves.

The little boys then went out, and returned to a diversion they had been

amusing themselves with for several days, the making a prodigious

snowball. They had begun by making a small globe of snow with their

hands, which they turned over and over, till, by continually collecting

fresh matter, it grew so large that they were unable to roll it any

farther. Here Tommy observed that their labours must end, "for it was

impossible to turn it any longer." "No," said Harry, "I know a remedy

for that." So he ran and fetched a couple of thick sticks about five

feet long, and giving one of them to Tommy, he took the other himself.

He then desired Tommy to put the end of his stick under the mass, while

he did the same on his side, and then, lifting at the other end, they

rolled the heap forward with the greatest ease.

Tommy was extremely surprised at this, and said, "How can this be? We

are not a bit stronger than we were before; and yet now we are able to

roll this snowball along with ease, which we could not even stir

before." "That is very true," answered Harry, "but it is owing to these

sticks. This is the way that the labourers move the largest trees,

which, without this contrivance, they would not be able to stir." "I am

very much surprised at this," said Tommy; "I never should have imagined

that the sticks would have given us more strength than we had before."

Just as he had said this, through a violent effort, both their sticks

broke short in the middle. "This is no great loss," observed Tommy, "for

the ends will do just as well as the whole sticks."

They then tried to shove the ball again with the truncheons which

remained in their hands; but, to the new surprise of Tommy, they found

they were unable to stir it. "That is very curious indeed," said Tommy;

"I find that only long sticks are of any use." "That," said Harry, "I

could have told you before, but I had a mind you should find it out

yourself. The longer the stick is, provided it is sufficiently strong,

and you can manage it, the more easily will you succeed." "This is

really very curious," replied Tommy; "but I see some of Mr Barlow's

labourers at work a little way off, let us go to them, and desire them

to cut us two longer sticks, that we may try their effect."

They then went up to the men who were at work, but here a new subject of

admiration presented itself to Tommy's mind. There was a root of a

prodigious oak tree, so large and heavy, that half-a-dozen horses would

scarcely have been able to draw it along; besides, it was so tough and

knotty, that the sharpest axe could hardly make any impression upon it.

This a couple of old men were attempting to cleave in pieces, in order

to make billets for Mr Barlow's fire.

Tommy, who thought their strength totally disproportionate to such an

undertaking, could not help pitying them; and observing, that certainly

Mr Barlow "did not know what they were about, or he would have prevented

such poor weak old men from fatiguing themselves about what they never

could perform." "Do you think so?" replied Harry; "what would you then

say, if you were to see me, little as I am, perform this wonderful task,

with the assistance of one of these good people?" So he took up a wooden

mallet--an instrument which, although much larger, resembles a

hammer--and began beating the root, which he did for some time, without

making the least impression. Tommy, who imagined that, for this time,

his friend Harry was caught, began to smile, and told him, "that he

would break a hundred mallets to pieces before he made the least

impression upon the wood."

"Say you so?" answered Harry, smiling; "then I believe I must try

another method;" so he stooped down, and picked up a small piece of

rough iron, about six inches long, which Tommy had not before observed,

as it lay upon the ground. This iron was broad at the top, but gradually

sloped all the way down, till it came to a perfect edge at bottom. Harry

then took it up, and with a few blows drove it a little way into the

body of the root. The old man and he then struck alternately with their

mallets upon the head of the iron, till the root began to gape and crack

on every side, and the iron was totally buried in the wood.

"There," said Harry, "this first wedge has done its business very well;

two or three more will finish it." He then took up another larger wedge,

and, inserting the bottom of it between the wood and the top of the

former one, which was now completely buried in the root, began to beat

upon it as he had done before. The root now cracked and split on every

side of the wedges, till a prodigious cleft appeared quite down to the

bottom. Thus did Harry proceed, still continuing his blows, and

inserting new and larger wedges as fast as he had driven the former

down, till he had completely effected what he had undertaken, and

entirely separated the monstrous mass of wood into two unequal parts.

Harry then said, "here is a very large log, but I think you and I can

carry it in to mend the fire; and I will show you something else that

will surprise you." So he took a pole of about ten feet long, and hung

the log upon it by a piece of cord which he found there; then he asked

Tommy which end of the pole he chose to carry. Tommy, who thought it

would be most convenient to have the weight near him, chose that end of

the pole near which the weight was suspended, and put it upon his

shoulder, while Harry took the other end. But when Tommy attempted to

move, he found that he could hardly bear the pressure; however, as he

saw Harry walk briskly away under his share of the load, he determined

not to complain.

As they were walking in this manner, Mr Barlow met them, and seeing poor

Tommy labouring under his burthen, asked him who had loaded him in that

manner. Tommy said it was Harry. Upon this, Mr Barlow smiled, and said,

"Well, Tommy, this is the first time I ever saw your friend Harry

attempt to impose upon you; but he is making you carry about three times

the weight which he supports himself." Harry replied, "that Tommy had

chosen that himself; and that he should directly have informed him of

his mistake, but that he had been so surprised at seeing the common

effects of a lever, that he wished to teach him some other facts about

it;" then shifting the ends of the pole, so as to support that part

which Tommy had done before, he asked him, "if he found his shoulder

anything easier than before." "Indeed, I do," replied Tommy, "but I

cannot conceive how; for we carry the same weight between us which we

did before, and just in the same manner." "Not quite in the same

manner," answered Mr Barlow; "for, if you observe, the log is a great

deal farther from your shoulder than from Harry's, by which means he

now supports just as much as you did before, and you, on the contrary,

as little as he did when I met you." "This is very extraordinary

indeed," said Tommy; "I find there are a great many things which I did

not know, nor even my mamma, nor any of the fine ladies that come to our

house." "Well," replied Mr Barlow, "if you have acquired so much useful

knowledge already, what may you expect to do in a few years more?"

Mr Barlow then led Tommy into the house, and showed him a stick of about

four feet long, with a scale hung at each end. "Now," said he, "if you

place this stick over the back of a chair, so that it may rest exactly

upon the middle, you see the two scales will just balance each other.

So, if I put into each of them an equal weight, they will still remain

suspended. In this method we weigh every thing which is bought, only,

for the greater convenience, the beam of the scale, which is the same

thing as this stick, is generally hung up to something else by its

middle. But let us now move the stick, and see what will be the

consequence." Mr Barlow then pushed the stick along in such a manner,

that when it rested upon the back of the chair, there were three feet of

it on one side, and only one on the other. That side which was longest

instantly came to the ground as heaviest. "You see," said Mr Barlow, "if

we would now balance them, we must put a greater weight on the shortest

side; so he kept adding weights, till Tommy found that one pound on the

longest side would exactly balance three on the shortest; for, as much

as the longer side exceeded the shorter in length, so much did the

weight which was hung at that end require to exceed that on the longest

side."

"This," said Mr Barlow, "is what they call a _lever_, and all the sticks

that you have been using to-day are only levers of a different

construction. By these short trials, you may conceive the prodigious

advantage which they are of to men; for thus can one man move a weight

which half-a-dozen could not be able to do with their hands alone; thus

may a little boy, like you, do more than the strongest man could effect

who did not know these secrets. As to that instrument by which you were

so surprised that Harry could cleave such a vast body of wood, it is

called a wedge, and is almost equally useful with the lever. The whole

force of it consists in its being gradually narrower and narrower, till

at last it ends in a thin edge, capable of penetrating the smallest

chink. By this we are enabled to overthrow the largest oaks, to cleave

their roots, almost as hard as iron itself, and even to split the solid

rocks." "All this," said Tommy, "is wonderful indeed; and I need not ask

the use of them, because I see it plainly in the experiments I have made

to-day."

"One thing more," added Mr Barlow, "as we are upon this subject, I will

show you." So he led them into the yard, to the bottom of his granary,

where stood a heavy sack of corn. "Now," said Mr Barlow, "if you are so

stout a fellow as you imagine, take up this sack of corn, and carry it

up the ladder into the granary." "That," replied Tommy, laughing, "is

impossible; and I doubt, sir, whether you could do it yourself."

"Well," said Mr Barlow, "we will, at least try what is to be done." He

then led them up into the granary, and, showing them a middle-sized

wheel, with a handle fixed upon it, desired the little boys to turn it

round. They began to turn it with some little difficulty, and Tommy

could hardly believe his eyes, when, presently after, he saw the sack of

corn, which he had despaired of moving, mounted up into the granary, and

safely landed upon the floor. "You see," said Mr Barlow, "here is

another ingenious contrivance, by which the weakest person may perform

the work of the strongest. This is called the _wheel_ and _axle_. You

see this wheel, which is not very large, turns round an axle which goes

into it, and is much smaller; and at every turn, the rope to which the

weight is fixed that you want to move, is twisted round the axle. Now,

just as much as the breadth of the whole wheel is greater than that of

the axle which it turns round, so much greater is the weight that the

person who turns it can move, than he could do without it." "Well," said

Tommy, "I see it is a fine thing indeed to acquire knowledge, for by

these means one not only increases one's understanding, but one's bodily

strength. But are there no more, sir, of these ingenious contrivances,

for I should like to understand them all?" "Yes," answered Mr Barlow,

"there are more, and all of them you shall be perfectly acquainted with

in time; but for this purpose you should be able to write, and

comprehend something of arithmetic."

_Tommy._--What is arithmetic, sir?

_Mr Barlow._--That is not so easy to make you understand at once; I

will, however, try to explain it. Do you see the grains of wheat which

he scattered in the window?

_Tommy._--Yes, sir.

_Mr Barlow._--Can you count how many there are?

_Tommy._--There are just five-and-twenty of them.

_Mr Barlow._--Very well. Here is another parcel; how many grains are

there?

_Tommy._--Just fourteen.

_Mr Barlow._--If there are fourteen grains in one heap, and twenty-five

in the other, how many grains are there in all? or, how many do fourteen

and twenty-five make?

Tommy was unable to answer, and Mr Barlow proposed the same question to

Harry, who answered, that, together, they made thirty-nine. "Again,"

said Mr Barlow, "I will put the two heaps together, and then how many

will there be?"

_Tommy._--Thirty-nine.

_Mr Barlow._--Now, look, I have just taken away nineteen from the

number; how many, do you think, remain?

_Tommy._--I will count them.

_Mr Barlow._--And cannot you tell without counting? How many are there,

Harry?

_Harry._--Twenty, sir.

_Mr Barlow._--All this is properly the art of arithmetic, which is the

same as that of counting, only it is done in a much shorter and easier

way, without the trouble of having the things always before you. Thus,

for instance, if you wanted to know how many barley-corns were in this

sack, you would perhaps be a week in counting the whole number.

_Tommy._--Indeed, I believe I should.

_Mr Barlow._--If you understood arithmetic you might do it in five

minutes.

_Tommy._--That is extraordinary, indeed; I can hardly conceive it

possible.

_Mr Barlow._--A bushel of corn weighs about fifty pounds; this sack

contains four bushels; so that there are just two hundred pounds weight

in all. Now, every pound contains sixteen ounces, and sixteen times two

hundred makes thirty-two hundred ounces. So that you have nothing to do

but to count the number of grains in a single ounce, and there will be

thirty-two hundred times that number in the sack.

_Tommy._--I declare this is curious indeed, and I should like to learn

arithmetic. Will Harry and you teach me, sir?

_Mr Barlow._--You know we are always ready to improve you. But before we

leave this subject, I must tell you a little story. "There was a

gentleman who was extremely fond of beautiful horses, and did not grudge

to give the highest prices for them. One day a horse-courser came to

him, and showed him one so handsome, that he thought it superior to all

he had ever seen before. He mounted him, and found his paces equally

excellent; for, though he was full of spirit, he was gentle and

tractable as could be wished. So many perfections delighted the

gentleman, and he eagerly demanded the price. The horse-courser

answered, that he would bate nothing of two hundred guineas; the

gentleman, although he admired the horse, would not consent to give it,

and they were just on the point of parting. As the man was turning his

back, the gentleman called out to him, and said, 'Is there no possible

way of our agreeing, for I would give you anything in reason for such a

beautiful creature?' 'Why,' replied the dealer, who was a shrewd fellow,

and perfectly understood calculation, 'If you do not like to give me two

hundred guineas, will you give me a farthing for the first nail the

horse has in his shoe, two farthings for the second, four for the third,

and so go doubling throughout the whole twenty-four, for there are no

more than twenty-four nails in all his shoes?' The gentleman gladly

accepted the condition, and ordered the horse to be led away to his

stables."

_Tommy._--This fellow must have been a very great blockhead, to ask two

hundred guineas, and then to take a few farthings for his horse.

_Mr Barlow._--The gentleman was of the same opinion; "however, the

horse-courser added:--'I do not mean, sir, to tie you down to this last

proposal, which, upon consideration, you may like as little as the

first; all that I require is, that if you are dissatisfied with your

bargain, you will promise to pay me down the two hundred guineas which I

first asked.' This the gentleman willingly agreed to, and then called

the steward to calculate the sum, for he was too much of a gentleman to

be able to do it himself. The steward sat down with his pen and ink,

and, after some time, gravely wished his master joy, and asked him, 'in

what part of England the estate was situated that he was going to

purchase.' 'Are you mad?' replied the gentleman; 'it is not an estate,

but a horse, that I have just bargained for; and here is the owner of

him, to whom I am going to pay the money.' 'If there is any madness,

sir,' replied the steward, 'it certainly is not on my side; the sum you

have ordered me to calculate comes just to seventeen thousand four

hundred and seventy-six pounds, besides some shillings and pence; and

surely no man in his senses would give this price for a horse.' The

gentleman was more surprised than he had ever been before, to hear the

assertion of his steward; but when, upon examination, he found it no

more than the truth, he was very glad to compound for his foolish

agreement, by giving the horse-courser the two hundred guineas, and

dismissing him."

_Tommy._--This is quite incredible, that a farthing just doubled a few

times, should amount to such a prodigious sum; however, I am determined

to learn arithmetic, that I may not be imposed upon in this manner, for

I think a gentleman must look very silly in such a situation.

Thus had Tommy a new employment and diversion for the winter nights--the

learning arithmetic. Almost every night did Mr Barlow, and Harry, and

he, amuse themselves with little questions that related to numbers; by

which means Tommy became, in a short time, so expert, that he could add,

subtract, multiply, or divide almost any given sum, with little trouble

and great exactness. But he did not for this forget the employment of

observing the heavens, for every night when the stars appeared bright,

and the sky was unclouded, Harry and he observed the various figures and

positions of the constellations. Mr Barlow gave him a little paper

globe, as he had promised, and Tommy immediately marked out upon the

top his first and favourite constellation of Charles' Wain. A little

while after that, he observed on the other side of the Pole-star another

beautiful assemblage of stars, which was always opposite to Charles'

Wain; this, Mr Barlow told him, was called _Cassiopeia's_ Chair, and

this, in a short time, was added to the collection.

One night as Tommy was looking up to the sky in the southern part of the

heavens, he observed so remarkable a constellation that he could not

help particularly remarking it; four large and shining stars composed

the ends of the figure, which was almost square, and full in the middle

appeared three more placed in a slanting line and very near each other.

This Tommy pointed out to Mr Barlow, and begged to know the name. Mr

Barlow answered that the constellation was named _Orion_, and that the

three bright stars in the middle were called his belt. Tommy was so

delighted with the grandeur and beauty of this glorious constellation,

that he could not help observing it, by intervals, all the evening; and

he was surprised to see that it seemed to pass on in a right line drawn

from east to west, and that all the stars he had become acquainted with

moved every night in the same direction.

But he did not forget to remind Harry one morning of the history he had

promised to tell him of Agesilaus. Harry told it in the following

manner:--

"HISTORY OF AGESILAUS."

"The Spartans (as I have before told you, Master Tommy) were a brave and

hardy people, who despised everything that tended to make them delicate

and luxurious. All their time was spent in such exercises as made them

strong and active, able to bear fatigue, and to despise wounds and

danger, for they were situated in the midst of several other nations

that frequently had quarrels with each other, and with them; and

therefore it was necessary that they should learn to defend themselves.

Therefore all the children were brought up alike, and the sons of their

kings themselves were as little indulged as anybody else."

_Tommy._--Stop, stop!--I don't exactly understand that. I thought a king

was a person that dressed finer and had less to do than anybody else in

the world. I have often heard my mamma and the ladies say that I looked

like a prince when I had fine clothes on; and therefore I thought that

kings and princes never did anything but walk about with crowns upon

their heads, and eat sweetmeats all day long.

_Harry._--I do not know how that may be, but in Sparta the great

business of the kings (for they had two) was to command them when they

went out to war, or when they were attacked at home--and that, you know,

they could not do without being brave and hardy themselves. "Now it

happened that the Spartans had some dear friends and allies that lived

at a distance from them across the sea, who were attacked by a great and

numerous nation called the Persians. So when the Spartans knew the

danger of their friends, they sent over to their assistance Agesilaus,

one of their kings, together with a few thousands of his countrymen; and

these they judged would be a match for all the forces that could be

brought against them by the Persians, though ever so numerous. When the

general of the Persians saw the small number of his enemies, he imagined

it would be an easy matter to take them prisoners or to destroy them.

Besides, as he was immensely rich, and possessed a number of palaces,

furnished with everything that was fine and costly, and had a great

quantity of gold and silver, and jewels, and slaves, he could not

conceive it possible that anybody could resist him. He therefore raised

a large army, several times greater than that of the Spartans, and

attacked Agesilaus, who was not in the least afraid of him; for the

Spartans, joining their shields together, and marching slowly along in

even ranks, fell with so much fury upon the Persians, that in an instant

they put them to flight."

Here Tommy interrupted the story, to inquire what a shield was.

"Formerly," answered Mr Barlow, "before men were acquainted with the

pernicious effects of gunpowder, they were accustomed to combat close

together with swords or long spears, and for this reason they covered

themselves in a variety of ways, to defend their bodies from the weapons

of their enemies. The shield was worn upon their left arm, and composed

of boards fixed together, and strengthened with the hides of animals,

and plates of iron, sufficiently long and broad to cover almost the

whole body of a man. When they went out to battle, they placed

themselves in even rows or ranks, with their shields extended before

them, to secure them from the arrows and weapons of their enemies. Upon

their heads they wore a helmet, which was a cap of iron or steel,

ornamented with the waving feathers of birds or the tails of horses. In

this manner, with an even pace, marching all at once, and extending

their spears before them, they went forward to meet their enemies." "I

declare," said Tommy, "that an army in full march, in such array, must

have been prodigiously fine; and when I have accidentally met with

soldiers myself, I thought they made such a figure, walking erect with

their arms all glittering in the sun, that I have sometimes thought I

would be a soldier myself whenever I grew big enough." "This

soldier-spirit of Tommy's brings to my recollection," said Mr Barlow, "a

circumstance that once occurred in the French army, which I cannot help

relating. After an execution had taken place in Paris, of a nobleman who

had been convicted of treason (which was no uncommon thing at that

time), the commanding officer of the regiment, who had been in

attendance during the tragic scene, ordered his men to their usual place

of exercise. While engaged in reviewing the troops, his attention was

drawn to a young man, who had been for some time concealed behind a

tree; who, coming forward and falling upon his knees, entreated the

general, in an imploring manner, to permit him to enter into his

regiment, declaring that he had, from a child, felt the most ardent

desire to be a soldier. The general gazed intently upon him, and

instantly recognised in the young man the child of his own beloved

brother, who had been lost for many years, and was supposed to be dead.

But I interrupt--let Harry now go on with his story."

"When Pharnabazus (for that was the name of the Persian general)

observed that his troops were never able to stand against the Spartans,

he sent to Agesilaus, and requested that they might have a meeting, in

order to treat about terms of peace. This the Spartan consented to, and

appointed the time and place where he would wait for Pharnabazus. When

the day came, Agesilaus arrived first at the place of meeting with the

Spartans; but not seeing Pharnabazus, he sat down upon the grass with

his soldiers, and, as it was the hour of the army's making their repast,

they pulled out their provisions, which consisted of some coarse bread

and onions, and began eating very heartily. In the middle of them sat

King Agesilaus himself, in nowise distinguished from the rest, neither

by his clothing nor his fare; nor was there in the whole army an

individual who more exposed himself to every species of hardship, or

discovered less nicety than the king himself, by which means he was

beloved and reverenced by all the soldiers, who were ashamed of

appearing less brave or patient than their general.

"It was not long that the Spartans had thus reposed before the first

servants of Pharnabazus arrived, who brought with them rich and costly

carpets, which they spread upon the ground for their master to recline

upon. Presently arrived another troop, who began to erect a spacious

tent, with silken hangings, to screen him and his train from the heat of

the sun. After this came a company of cooks and confectioners with a

great number of loaded horses, who carried upon their backs all the

materials of an elegant entertainment. Last of all appeared Pharnabazus

himself, glittering with gold and jewels, and adorned with a long purple

robe, after the fashion of the East; he wore bracelets upon his arms,

and was mounted upon a beautiful horse, that was as gaudily attired as

himself.

"As he approached nearer, and beheld the simple manners of the Spartan

king and his soldiers, he could not help scoffing at their poverty, and

making comparisons between their mean appearance and his own

magnificence. All that were with him seemed to be infinitely diverted

with the wit and acute remarks of their general, except a single person,

who had served in the Grecian armies, and therefore was better

acquainted with the manners and discipline of these people. This man was

highly valued by Pharnabazus for his understanding and honesty, and,

therefore, when he observed that he said nothing, he insisted upon his

declaring his sentiments, as the rest had done. 'Since, then,' replied

he, 'you command me to speak my opinion, O Pharnabazus, I must confess

that the very circumstance which is the cause of so much mirth to the

gentlemen that accompany you is the reason of my fears. On our side,

indeed, I see gold, and jewels, and purple, in abundance, but when I

look for men, I can find nothing but barbers, cooks, confectioners,

fiddlers, dancers, and everything that is most unmanly and unfit for

war; on the Grecian side, I discern none of the costly trifles, but I

see iron that forms their weapons, and composes impenetrable arms. I see

men who have been brought up to despise every hardship, and face every

danger; who are accustomed to observe their ranks, to obey their leader,

to take every advantage of their enemy, and to fall dead in their

places, rather than to turn their backs. Were the contest about who

should dress a dinner, or curl hair with the greatest nicety, I should

not doubt that the Persians would gain the advantage; but when it is

necessary to contend in battle, where the prize is won by hardiness and

valour, I cannot help dreading men, who are inured to wounds, and

labours, and suffering; nor can I ever think that the Persian gold will

be able to resist the Grecian iron.'

"Pharnabazus was so struck with the truth and justness of these remarks,

that, from that very hour he determined to contend no more with such

invincible troops, but bent all his care towards making peace with the

Spartans, by which means he preserved himself and country from

destruction."

"You see by this story," said Mr Barlow, "that fine clothes are not

always of the consequence you imagine, since they are not able to give

their wearers either more strength or courage than they had before, nor

to preserve them from the attacks of those whose appearance is more

homely. But since you are so little acquainted with the business of a

soldier, I must show you a little more clearly in what it consists.

Instead, therefore, of all this pageantry, which seems so strongly to

have acted upon your mind, I must inform you that there is no human

being exposed to suffer a greater degree of hardship; he is often

obliged to march whole days in the most violent heat, or cold, or rain,

and frequently without victuals to eat, or clothes to cover him; and

when he stops at night, the most that he can expect is a miserable

canvas tent to shelter him, which is penetrated in every part by the

wet, and a little straw to keep his body from the damp unwholesome

earth. Frequently he cannot meet with even this, and is obliged to lie

uncovered upon the ground, by which means he contracts a thousand

diseases, which are more fatal than the cannon and weapons of the enemy.

Every hour he is exposed to engage in combats at the hazard of losing

his limbs, of being crippled or mortally wounded. If he gain the

victory, he generally has only to begin again and fight anew, till the

war is over; if he be beaten, he may probably lose his life upon the

spot, or be taken prisoner by the enemy, in which case he may languish

several months in a dreary prison, in want of all the necessaries of

life."

"Alas!" said Harry, "what a dreadful picture do you draw of the fate of

those brave men who suffer so much to defend their country. Surely those

who employ them should take care of them when they are sick, or wounded,

or incapable of providing for themselves."

"So indeed," answered Mr Barlow, "they ought to do; but rash and foolish

men engage in wars without either justice or reason, and when they are

over they think no more of the unhappy people who have served them at so

much loss to themselves."

_Harry._--Why, sir, I have often thought, that, as all wars consists in

shedding blood and doing mischief to our fellow-creatures they seldom

can be just.

_Mr Barlow._--You are indeed right there. Of all the blood that has

been shed since the beginning of the world to the present day, but very

little indeed has been owing to any cause that had either justice or

common sense.

_Harry._--I then have thought (though I pity poor soldiers extremely,

and always give them something if I have any money in my pocket) that

they draw these mischiefs upon themselves, because they endeavour to

kill and destroy other people, and, therefore, if they suffer the same

evils in return, they can hardly complain.

_Mr Barlow._--They cannot complain of the evils to which they

voluntarily expose themselves, but they may justly complain of the

ingratitude of the people, for whom they fight, and who take no care of

them afterwards.

_Harry._--Indeed, sir, I think so. But I cannot conceive why people must

hire others to fight for them. If it is necessary to fight, why not

fight for themselves? I should be ashamed to go to another boy and say

to him, "Pray go and venture your life or limbs for me that I may stay

at home and do nothing."

_Tommy._--What if the French were to come here, as they said they were

about to do; would you go out to fight them yourself?

_Harry._--I have heard my father say that it was every man's duty to

fight for his country, if it were attacked; and if my father went out to

fight, I would go out with him. I would not willingly hurt anybody, but

if they attempt to hurt me or my countrymen, we should do right to

defend ourselves; should we not, sir?

_Mr Barlow._--This is certainly a case where men have a right to defend

themselves; no man is bound to yield his life or property to another

that has no right to take it. Among those Grecians, whom you were

talking of, every man was a soldier, and always ready to defend his

country whenever it was attacked.

_Harry._--Pray, dear sir, read to Master Tommy the story of Leonidas,

which gave me so much pleasure; I am sure he will like to hear it.

Mr Barlow accordingly read

"THE HISTORY OF LEONIDAS, KING OF SPARTA."

"The king of Persia commanded a great extent of territory, which was

inhabited by many millions of people, and not only abounded in all the

necessaries of life, but produced immense quantities of gold and silver,

and every other costly thing. Yet all this did not satisfy the haughty

mind of Xerxes, who, at that time, possessed the empire of this country.

He considered that the Grecians, his neighbours, were free, and refused

to obey his imperious orders, which he foolishly imagined all mankind

should respect; he therefore determined to make an expedition with a

mighty army into Greece, and to conquer the country. For this reason he

raised such a prodigious army, that it was almost impossible to describe

it; the number of men that composed it seemed sufficient to conquer the

whole world, and all the forces the Grecians were able to raise would

scarcely amount to a hundredth part. Nevertheless, the Grecians held

public councils to consult about their common safety, and they nobly

determined that, as they had hitherto lived free, so they would either

maintain their liberty, or bravely die in its defence.

"In the mean time Xerxes was continually marching forward, and at length

entered the territory of Greece. The Grecians had not yet been able to

assemble their troops or make their preparations, and therefore they

were struck with consternation at the approach of such an army as

attended Xerxes. Leonidas was at that time king of Sparta, and when he

considered the state of affairs, he saw one method alone by which the

ruin of his country, and all Greece, could be prevented. In order to

enter the more cultivated parts of this country, it was necessary for

the Persian army to march through a very rough and mountainous district,

called Thermopylæ. There was only one narrow road through all these

mountains, which it was possible for only a very small number of men to

defend for some time against the most numerous army. Leonidas perceived

that, if a small number of resolute men would undertake to defend this

passage, it would retard the march of the whole Persian army, and give

the Grecians time to collect their troops; but who would undertake so

desperate an enterprise, where there was scarcely any possibility of

escaping alive? For this reason, Leonidas determined to undertake the

expedition himself, with such of the Spartans as would voluntarily

attend him, and to sacrifice his own life for the preservation of his

country.

"With this design he assembled the chief persons of Sparta, and laid

before them the necessity of defending the pass of Thermopylæ. They were

equally convinced of its importance, but knew not where to find a man

of such determined valour as to undertake it. 'Then,' said Leonidas,

'since there is no more worthy man ready to perform this service, I

myself will undertake it, with those who will voluntarily accompany me.'

They were struck with admiration at his proposal, and praised the

greatness of his mind, but set before him the certain destruction which

must attend him. 'All this,' said Leonidas, 'I have already considered;

but I am determined to go, with the appearance indeed of defending the

pass of Thermopylæ, but in reality to die for the liberty of Greece.'

Saying this, he instantly went out of the assembly, and prepared for the

expedition, taking with him about three hundred Spartans. Before he

went, he embraced his wife, who hung about him in tears, as being well

acquainted with the dangerous purposes of his march; but he endeavoured

to comfort her, and told her that a short life was well sacrificed to

the interests of his country, and that Spartan women should be more

careful about the glory than the safety of their husbands. He then

kissed his infant children, and charging his wife to educate them in the

same principles he had lived in, went out of his house, to put himself

at the head of those brave men who were to accompany him.

"As they marched through the city, all the inhabitants attended them

with praises and acclamations; the young women sang songs of triumph,

and scattered flowers before them; the youths were jealous of their

glory, and lamented that such a noble doom had not rather fallen upon

themselves; while all their friends and relations seemed rather to

exult in the immortal honour they were going to acquire, than to be

dejected with the apprehensions of their loss; and as they continued

their march through Greece, they were joined by various bodies of their

allies, so that their number amounted to about six thousand when they

took possession of the straits of Thermopylæ.

"In a short time Xerxes approached with his innumerable army, which was

composed of various nations, and armed in a thousand different manners,

and, when he had seen the small number of his enemies, he could not

believe that they really meant to oppose his passage; but when he was

told that this was surely their design, he sent out a small detachment

of his troops, and ordered them to take those Grecians alive and bring

them bound before him. The Persian troops set out and attacked the

Grecians with considerable fury; but in an instant they were routed, the

greater part slain, and the rest obliged to fly. Xerxes was enraged at

this misfortune, and ordered the combat to be renewed with greater

forces. The attack was renewed, but always with the same success,

although he sent the bravest troops in his whole army. Thus was this

immense army stopped in its career, and the pride of their monarch

humbled by so inconsiderable a body of Grecians, that they were not at

first thought worthy of a serious attack. At length, what Xerxes, with

all his troops was incapable of effecting, was performed by the

treachery of some of the Grecians who inhabited that country. For a

great reward they undertook to lead a chosen body of the Persians

across the mountains by a secret path, with which they alone were

acquainted. Accordingly, the Persians set out in the night, and having

passed over the mountains in safety, encamped on the other side.

"As soon as day arose, Leonidas perceived that he had been betrayed, and

that he was surrounded by the enemy; nevertheless, with the same

undaunted courage, he took all necessary measures and prepared for the

fate which he had long resolved to meet. After praising and thanking the

allies for the bravery with which they had behaved, he sent them all

away to their respective countries; many of the Spartans, too, he would

have dismissed under various pretences; but they, who were all

determined rather to perish with their king than to return, refused to

go. When he saw their resolution, he consented that they should stay

with him and share in his fate. All day, therefore, he remained quiet in

his camp; but when evening approached, he ordered his troops to take

some refreshment, and, smiling, told them 'to dine like men who were to

sup in another world.' They then completely armed themselves, and waited

for the middle of the night, which Leonidas judged most proper for the

design he meditated. He saw that the Persians would never imagine it

possible that such an insignificant body of men should think of

attacking their numerous forces; he was therefore determined, in the

silence of the night, to break into their camp, and endeavour, amid the

terror and confusion which would ensue, to surprise Xerxes himself.

"About midnight, therefore, this determined body of Grecians marched

out with Leonidas at their head. They soon broke into the Persian camp,

and put all to flight that dared to oppose them. It is impossible to

describe the terror and confusion which ensued among so many thousands

thus unexpectedly surprised. Still the Grecians marched on in close

impenetrable order, overturning the tents, destroying all that dared to

resist, and driving that vast and mighty army like frightened sheep

before them. At length they came even to the imperial tent of Xerxes;

and had he not quitted it at the first alarm, he would there have ended

at once his life and expedition. The Grecians in an instant put all the

guards to flight, and rushing upon the imperial pavilion, violently

overturned it, and trampled under their feet all the costly furniture

and vessels of gold which were used by the monarchs of Persia.

"But now the morning began to appear, and the Persians, who had

discovered the small number of their assailants, surrounded them on

every side, and without daring to come to a close engagement, poured in

their darts and other missive weapons. The Grecians were wearied even

with the toils of conquest, and their body was already considerably

diminished; nevertheless, Leonidas, who was yet alive, led on the

intrepid few that yet remained to a fresh attack; again he rushed upon

the Persians, and pierced their thickest battalions as often as he could

reach them. But valour itself was vain against such inequality of

numbers; at every charge the Grecian ranks grew thinner and thinner,

till at length they were all destroyed, without a single man having

quitted his post or turned his back upon the enemy."

"Really," said Tommy, when the history was finished, "Leonidas was a

brave man indeed. But what became of Xerxes and his army after the death

of this valiant Spartan? was he able to overcome the Grecians, or did

they repulse him?" "You are now able to read for yourself," replied Mr

Barlow, "and therefore, by examining the histories of those countries,

you may be informed of everything you desire."