I Sold hy^ ^=^ ^ t if 6. THE PARENT'S CABINET AMUSEMENT INSTRUCTION. LONDON :'/_': H%" PUBLISHED BY SMITH, ELDER AND SO- CORNHILL, 1835. LONDON : PRINTED BY STtWART AND CO. OLD BAILLV. The Conductors of the Parent's Cabinet having now completed thirty-six numbers, (forming six volumes,) beg to announce their intention of discontinuing the publication for the present. The sale of the work has been more than suflScient to encourage them to proceed, but other calls upon their time prevent them from doing so. They may, perhaps, at a future period be induced to resume their labours either in the same, or some other shape. In the meantime, they will be careful to introduce such improve- ments and corrections in the successive re- prints of the numbers already published, as may add to their efficiency for purposes both of amusement and instruction. 1 September, 1835. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://archive.org/details/parentscabinetofOOIond CONTENTS. Page Visit to Manchester 3 The Swallow's Return 31 Thomas and the Dog 33 The Bread-Fruit of Otaheite 48 Harriet's Trials 49 Crcesus 82 The House-Fly 92 Alexander Selkirk 97 A Canary's Lamentation on a fine Spring Morning 116 Tarquinius Superbus 118 The Caterpillar and Butterfly 144 Captain Cook 147 The Lock 181 The Castle and the School-House ... 195 Kensington Gardens 211 The Apparent Course of the Sun .... 239 Uncle John in Iceland 241 Dog Tray 270 The Barometer 272 •g^ s I I VISIT TO MANCHESTER. One morning two loud raps at Mr. Har- mer's door, announced that the postman had brought a letter. The servant put it into Mr. Harmer's hand and said the postage was thirteen-pence. Mr. Harmer paid the mo- ney, but soon observed that the name was *' Mr. Frederick Harmer, junior " ** Fred," said he, *^ here is a letter for you, therefor© you must pay the thirteen-pence." " Thirteen-pence ! " exclaimed Fred, " what a deal of money to pay for a letter from a school-fellow!" *' Well," said his father, " if you do not like to pay the postage, let me keep the letter, and you keep your money." " Where does it come from ?" said Fred ; " it must have travelled a long way to cost so much." '* It is come from Manchester," said his father, " 186 miles from London, for which they charge eleven-pence, and two-pence b2 4 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. more is charged for bringing it from London to oor house." '* Manchester — Manchester," said Fred, trying to recollect ; *' I have no school-fellow who lives at Manchester. Oh ! perhaps it is from uncle Alfred 1 There is the thirteen- pence, papa." And then Fred broke the seal in an instant, saw his uncle's name at the bottom of the page, and read with glis- tening eyes the following letter : " Dear Fred, " As business will detain me some time in Manchester and Liverpool, I shall feel much pleasure if your father will allow you to spend a few weeks with me ; I can then show you some of the manufactories, and we will take a trip in the coach drawn by a steam engine, on the rail- way* My friend, Mr. Lincoln, will take care of you on the journey down, and I will take you back. Write me an answer by return of post : you must also write to my friend Mr. Lincoln, and tell him you will meet him at the coach-office. " Your aiFectionate Uncle, ''Alfred Harmer." VISIT TO MANCHESTER. O " Dear papa, how very kind of uncle Al- fred ! May I write that you will permit me to go?" His father gave his consent on condition that Fred would write down, in a memorandum book, an account of the differ- ent things that interested him during his excursion, and his own thoughts on all that he saw and heard ; and Fred, quite delighted, prepared to write the letter. ** Oh !" said he, "how glad I am I can have such a letter for thirteen-pence ; it seems such a li'ttle money now, for bringing a letter 186 miles in one day." His father told him that the mail coach to Manchester employed more than 180 horses. Fred set off at the appointed time, and the weather being fine, he rode outside the coach ; Mr. Lincoln had some business at Derby, their journey therefore led them through St. Albans, Dunstable, Northamp- ton, Leicester, ©erby, Cromford, Matlock, Bakewell, Chapel-en-le-Frith, and in due time he arrived at Manchester, v/here his uncle received him very kindly. 6 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. Fred's letter to his father. Manchester. " Dear Papa, "How glad I am that you allowed me to accept uncle Alfred's invitation ! I have only been four days from home, and I am sure my sheet of paper will not be half large enough to tell you all I have seen. Our journey from Derby, where we slept, to this place, was so beautiful, that I wished for you and mamma and George a hundred times, to enjoy it with me. Mr. Lincoln told me he generally travelled that road to Manchester on account of its great beauty. I never saw real rocks before, although I have often read about them. One called the High Tor, at Matlock, is a noble rock, three or four hundred feet high, and there is a river running at the foot of it. The rock seems just as if it had been broken from top to bottom. Tn some places you see long slanting lines, as if one part of the rock had sunk down. But I cannot write any thing more of our journey, because I wish to tell' you about the steam-carriages and the rail- road. VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 7 *' Yesterday uncle Alfred took me to the rail-road, and he shewed me all the carriages and the steam engine ; and we saw a Train (as they call six or seven carriages fastened together) set off. They started very slowly, and presently went along faster than our coach did when the horses galloped. "We saw a train come in, and they stopped them so gently, that I was quite astonished ; and there was not one passenger that looked frightened ; they all seemed pleased that they had travelled so fast ; then the steam engine was unfastened from the train, and the en- gine man moved it about one hundred yards, till it came just under a pipe that filled it with hot water. As soon as the engine came back, and was hooked to the train again, my uncle and I got into one of the open car- riages; he fixed upon an open one in order that we might see every thing as well as possible. It was'' not long before the steam engine began to pull very gently all the six carriages with one hundred and twenty peo- ple in them, and then we went faster, faster, faster, oh so fast ! I wish, dear papa, you had been with us, — the horses gallopping with the 8 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. coach, seem like nothing to it. What a wonderful invention the steam engine is, and what a clever thought, to make an iron road for the wheels to run on ; but how much time and labour it must all have cost ! At one place they have made the road over a great black swampy place five miles long, by putting down many thousand loads of gravel. At another place they have built a great high bridge, called the Sankey Viaduct, over the Sankey River ; and canal barges, with high masts and sails, go under it. At another place they have cut through a hill called Olive Mount ; this hill is all stone, but not a hard grey stone like the High Tor at Matlock, but reddish, and looks something like that which grindstones are made of. All the rock that they cleared out they threw into a valley, and there made a great sloping em* bankment, at the top of which the rail-road runs. We were only one hour and a quarter going thirty two miles ! There is a mail coach at the end of the train of carriages, which carries the letters between Manchester and Liverpool. ** Uncle Alfred has been very kind ; he has VISIT TO MANCHESTER. V explained to me the steam engine, and I have written down in my book all I remem- ber, and I think I can explain it even so that George may understand it. Uncle Al- fred is not offended if I do not understand him immediately, and therefore I do not mind asking him questions. I never can un- derstand the explanation of a person who looks as if he thought I was stupid all the time I am asking for an explanation. *' I wish I could draw like uncle Alfred : when he sketches a machine for me, he makes me understand it quite clearly ; he has made several drawings in my memorandum book for me. Since you explained the clock to me, I do not feel afraid that I shall not understand a thing even if it does seem diffi- cult at first. I could not help laughing when uncle Alfred said a steam engine was something like a squirt; but it is indeed papa, as I will shew you when I come home, for I have got it down in my book. " Your affectionate Son, Fred stayed six weeks with his uncle, and B 5 10 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. during his visit, saw many of the manufac- tories. He went over a cotton mill, a weav- ing factory, a calico printer's, an engineer's factory, a coal pit, an iron foundry, the docks at Liverpool, and the Menai bridge. He wrote several letters to his father, but the more he put down in his book, the less time he had to write long letters. This was his last to his father : " Dear Papa, " My visit to Manchester is now nearly at an end, and I do not know whether to be glad or sorry. I am a little sorry to lose seeing any more of the wonders of machi- nery, but I feel very very glad, I shall have so much to tell you all. I now see the great use of putting things down in a book, al- though at first I thought it would be some- thing like a task ; I am sure I could not have remembered a quarter of what I have seen, and now I have only to look in my book, and it tells it me all over again. We are to return to London this day week, and uncle Alfred intends to spend a few days with you. He was intending to take me to see VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 11 a printing machine, but he said you could take me to see the printing machine in Lon- don, and that he should like to go with us ; so my pleasure is not at an end yet, " Your affectionate Son, "Fred." Uncle Alfred having concluded his busi- ness at Manchester and Liverpool, he and Fred returned to London. They set off in a coach called the Telegraph, at five in the morning. The first part of the journey Fred found himself very cold, having left his warm bed so early ; yet he felt very cheer- ful at the thoughts of going one hundred and eighty-six miles in one day, and at the end of that day seeing his dear parents. "Uncle," said Fred, "I do not think I should like to get up every morning before five. Do those boys and girls we saw going into the factory just when we set off, go there every morning at five o'clock?" •* No, they will only go twelve mornings at that hour, to make up time lost in repair- ing the steam-engine. Some time ago, how- ever, children younger than you, occasion- 12 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. ally worked in a factory from five in the morning' until eleven at night, and for many weeks together.'' *' What !" exclaimed Fred, " as long as we are travelling from Manchester to Lon- don! Oh how tired they must have been." " Yes," said his uncle, *^ there were mas- ters of factories who cared so little about the poor children, that many of them be- came cripples for life : a law has therefore been passed to prevent, if possible, the chil- dren from being over-worked. Do not think Fred, however, that all masters of factories are inhuman. There are good men and bad men in every class. Mr. Lincoln point- ed out to you, I think, the large cotton mills at Derby, belonging to Messrs. Strutt." ** Yes," said Fred, ^' and the mills looked so white and clean, that I quite longed to go over them." *^ Well, great attention is paid to the comfort of the work-people in those mills. Messrs. Strutt have built a large school- room for the children. They take care that the children shall learn something else be- side spinning." ^ VISIT TO MANCHESTER, 13 '* It seems quite silly, I think, uncle," said Fred, " for masters and work-people not to try to make each other comfortable ; for the master cannot get money without the help of the workman, and the workman cannot earn wages unless he finds somebody to em- ploy him. They ought to do their best to please one another." y The sun now shone out warm and bright, and Fred enjoyed the view of the country, the rapid motion of the Telegraph coach, and the expedition with which the horses were changed. In short, Fred had become quite a traveller. As they met the various coaches coming along from London, the Dart, the Tally-ho, the Courier and others, the passengers be- gan talking about the names of coaches, and as they gave their different opinions, uncle Alfred asked Fred which name he liked best. " I like the name of this coach best," said Fred : *' the Courier is a good name for a coach, because a courier carries news and goes quickly, but the telegraph carries news the most quickly of all." " You know what a telegraph is then ?" 14 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. "Yes, papa explained it to me a short time ago." " Do you remember who first used the telegraph?" said his uncle. " Papa told me that Dr. Hooke first de- scribed how news could be communicated by a telegraph; but that the French first put it into practice, above a hundred years after- wards, in 1794 I believe." *' Your father was in error, Fred, when he mentioned the French as first using the telegraph. More than thirty years before the French tried experiments on the sub- ject, the late Mr. Edgeworth conveyed in- telligence by means of windmill sails. If you will remind me when I am in London, I will shew you a book, that will give you a great deal of interesting information, on the various modes of making telegraphic com- munications, and on the different experiments of Mr. Edgeworth and his sons." '^ I should like that exceedingly," said Fred ; " for since papa explained the princi- ple of a telegraph to George and me, we have often thought of trying to make one ourselves." VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 15 The long rows of brilliant gas-lights, at length appeared in sight, and in another half hour the stage stopped at Mr. Harmer's door. The parlour blinds were quickly drawn aside, and the street-door as quickly opened, while half a dozen voices welcomed *' Fred and Uncle." One kind hand seized a cloak, another a hat, while a third drew the travel- lers towards the cheerful fire-side. In a few minutes Fred and his uncle were seated in the midst of a circle of affectionate and inquisitive friends, who were all eager for an- swers to their several questions. The next day Mr. and Mrs. Harmer and George were desirous to see Fred's memo- randum book. The drawings, as we have said, had been made by his uncle, but Fred had written the various accounts in his own way. *^ I hope you will begin from the very be- ginning," said George : '* I should like to hear about your journey to Manchester; for in your first letter you did not tell us much about it." " Well," said Fred, '' I will do my best to please you : here is my little book, which 16 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. I kept in my pocket during the journey, and while staying at Manchester. I think I had better read it myself, mamma, because the pencil marks are unluckily often rubbed, and I suppose I shall make out the meaning best." Fred accordingly began reading the following extracts from his memorandum book. *^ September the 6th, I set off with Mr. Lincoln in a new coach from the Belle Sau- vage, to spend some time with my uncle at Manchester. The coach was made a great deal lower than most of the other coaches that I have seen ; and Mr. Lincoln said, it was not so liable to upset, and therefore it might go very quickly with safety. Every thing about travelling seems to be done quicTcly. The coachman gets on the box quickly ; they change the four horses very quickly ; and if a passenger walks slowly up to the coach, the coachman says, " Now, sir, if you please," to make him walk quickly. I did not suppose a few minutes could be of such consequence, until Mr. Lincoln told me, they changed horses twenty times be- tween London and Manchester, and then VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 17 asked me, '* if they waste three minutes at each change, how much will that be at the end of the journey? It would he a whole hour. Travelling must make people think a good deal of saving time." "I heard the coachman, when we stopped at an inn, tell a man to give the near ivheeler a little water. I asked Mr. Lincoln, why they called the horse that was farthest off from the coachman the near horse, and he told me that the horse on the left is the near- est to a postillion because he rides upon it, and the horse on the right is the farthest off from the postillion. '' I think it is very amusing, to hear the different people talking outside the coach. One of our companions had sailed with Captain Parry, and he told us many enter- taining anecdotes of the Esquimaux. A gentleman who sat next to Mr. Lincoln was a Frenchman, who could not speak a word of English. He was quite delighted, when Mr. Lincoln repeated to him in French the traveller's amusing accounts. How much more obliging some people are than others in travelling. Some take as much room as 18 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. they can, and speak rough and short; others, like Mr. Lincoln, seem to wish every body to be as comfortable as they are themselves. " Atone part of our journey, the horses be- came rather restive. One of them had pranced about and frightened the others, and then they all gal lopped so fast, that I became frightened. The French gentleman, who was not used to quick travelling in his own country, was quite as frightened as I was, and wished to jump off the coach, but the coachman assured him there was no dan- ger ; and Mr. Lincoln told him, whenever the horses ran away, it was always safer to hold fast on the coach, for that if he jumped off, he would certainly be thrown violently against the ground, and be hurt very much. The coachman soon made the horses trot instead of gallop, and I was very glad of it. " When we were crossing a little river called the Trent, the coachman told us, that one side of the river was Leicestershire, and the other Derbyshire ; and Mr. Lincoln, who has travelled in foreign countries, said, that sometimes a small stream would divide two great kingdoms. When he travelled from VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 19 France into Italy, he went over a bridge, and one half of the bridge was France, and the other half Italy. In time of war, how disagreeable it must be, and how foolish it seems, for people who live on each side of a little river, to fight with one another. " We slept at Derby, and the next day went to see the beautiful hospital, called the infirmary. It looks like a gentleman's house in the midst of a park : the trees, the gravel walks, and the flowers, are all kept in the highest order. When the sick people arc getting better, how much they must enjoy such pleasant grounds. The inside of the infirmary is so clean that you would scarcely think any body was ill there. We went all over it. In the cellar we saw a large stove, and a little brick room all round it, full of holes to let the air go through against the stove, and so get warmed. From the top of this little brick room, there were brick flues, about as big as a common chimney, that went to every part of the infirmary, to convey the warm air to the rooms and pas- sages. "In the laundry, there was actually a little 20 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. steam-engine ! — who would have thought that sick people could be made more comfortable by a steam-engine ? and yet they are, for it works a washing-machine, a mangle and a pump. There is a large closet, that is warm- ed by hot air, into Avhich they slide the clothes-horse when they have been washing, and so the sick people always have plenty of clean linen. I asked who it was that had contrived so many things for them ; and Mr. Lincoln said, it was Mr. Strutt, one of the proprietors of the great cotton-mills, near Derby. When we left Derby, we passed Messrs. Strutt's mills, but Mr. Lincoln could not spare the time to take me over them. At Cromford, we passed Sir Richard Arkwright's mills, and Mr. Lincoln told me he was the first person who spun cotton by machinery. *' We arrived at Manchester at night, and Uncle Alfred met me at the coach-office. The next day, he took me to several parts of Manchester. What a busy place it is ! In almost every manufactory we passed there was a steam-engine, which made me wish to know something about steam-engines, they seem so very useful ; and Uncle Alfred, when VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 21 wegot homeiii theevening, mademe thedraw- ings in my book, and explained them to me. '' There are two kinds of steam engine ; one is called the Condensing Engine, because the steam is somehow condensed in it with cold water, and the other is called the High Pressure Engine, because the steam presses with very high power in it. — Uncle Alfred says the High Pressure engine is easiest to understand, and he began to explain it to me, by telling me it was something like a squirt. Directly he said so, I began to hope that I should understand it, for every boy knows what a squirt is. I have often mended the plug or piston, as they call it in the steam engine, by putting some tow round it. The round part of the squirt, they call the cy- linder, and the handle part they call the piston rod. I find I must learn the names of things when they are different from those I have been used to, or 1 ■ Cyliiide 22 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. else I cannot tell what people are talking about. ** Well, now, suppose the piston of the squirt made to slip up and down very easily, and the hole at the bottom of the squirt made large with a gimblet, and then the point of the squirt put through a hole in a cork and the cork put into a tin bottle with some water in it ; if you warm this over the fire, the steam will push the piston up to the top ; we must take it off the fire directly the piston reaches the top, or else it would burst, because the steam cannot get out. If we could only let the steam off that had pushed the piston up, and then let some steam on to the top of the cylinder above the piston, we could push the piston down again, and then the squirt and the bottle would be a little steam engine. " In a steam engine, the piston rod slides through a hole at the top of the cylinder at (a), in which some tow is put to make it fit close enough to prevent the steam getting by. There is a pipe (t), which I shall call the top pipe, and a pipe (b), the bottom pipe. VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 23 and a pipe (i), through which the steam goes into the cylinder, and a pipe (o), (which passes on one side of t) through which the Fig. I. Five bars □ auuouaauuu steam goes out of the cylinder, and these four pipes are all joined together in the shape 24 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. of a cross. In the middle of the cross at (c) Fig. II. there is a cock. This cock is called the four-way cock, because it opens and shuts all the four pipes. I thought this would be very difficult to understand, but my uncle's drawings have explained it perfectly to me. " This is the shape of the plug of the cock, i. e. the part which turns. It has two deep notches filed in it opposite to one ano- ther, leaving a solid di- vision in the middle, and a section of it would look #«' VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 25 like this : Division. WiiiiaM%^MM»%%M^ now when the divison stands thus \ like (fig. i.) the steam goes to the top of the cylinder, and pushes the piston down, and when the division stands thus / as in (fig. ii.) then the steam goes to the bottom of the cylinder and pushes the piston up. While the fresh steam is going through the right hand notch of the cock into the cylinder, the steam that has been used is going through the left hand notch out of the cylinder into the open air. — The steam engine itself turns the cock by a little rod from the top of the piston. And now we see how we can push the piston up and down. The next thing is to see how this up and down motion can turn a wheel round. When I first saw how this was done, it put me in mind of a knife- Iron connecting . , , ^ ^ i* rod. grmders wheel, tor the treadle and iron connecting rod go mj> and down, and pull 6. c 26 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. the wheel round by the crooked part called the crank. " This is the way it is done in the steam engine. Across the top of the piston rod is fastened a piece of iron called the T piece, because it makes the form of a T with the piston rod. The T piece moves up and down between guides, to make it always move in a straight line with the piston rod. END VIEW. T piece. Koad-wheel. Fly-wheel. Locomotive Engine. Fixed Engine, At each end of the T piece is hung a con- necting rod and the other ends of the two connecting rods are joined to two cranks on the same spindle on which a heavy wheel called the fly-wheel is fixed, so that as the piston rod, and T piece, and connecting rods go up and down, they pull the cranks and the fly-wheel round. The cranks are generally fixed at the ends VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 27 of the spindle, and outside the fly wheel, and then they look more like handles. When an engine is used for machinery, it is mounted on brick work, and turns a fly- wheel ; but if used for going on the road, it is mounted on four road-wheels, and the connecting rod turns two of the road-wheels. SIDE VIEW. m Travelling, or Locomotive Hng Fixed Engine. " Uncle Alfred says, the use of the fly- wheel is not only to make the engine work with regularity, but also to continue the mo- tion, when the arm of the crank is in a line with the connecting rod. For when the pis- ton is at the top or bottom of the cylinder, the arm of the crank, and the connecting rod are in a straight line with each other ; and in these positions, which are called the dead-points y the connecting rod can no more turn the crank than I could turn a grindstone c2 28 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. by standing on the handle ; but when a heavy thing like a grindstone, is turned round, if we take our hands off the handle, the grind- stone will turn a little way by itself. In like manner the heavy fly-wheel easily turns the crank at the dead-points, that is, where the connecting rod has no power to turn it. "As a heavy fly-wheel will continue to move a little way by itself after we have left off turning it, so a heavy carriage will continue to move a little way on a rail road, after we have left off pushing it, and therefore the travelling engine, when once put in motion, easily turns the crank past the dead-points. But if the engine at the end of the journey were to be accidentally stopped just at either of the dead-points, then it would be very in- convenient to put it in motion again, for the engine would have to be pushed along till the crank had passed the dead-point. "To avoid this inconvenience, all the steam engines on the rail-road have two cylinders, which are generally placed in a horizontal position, instead of being placed upright as in these drawings: one cylinder works the right-hand wheel, and the other the left- VISIT TO MANCHESTER. 29 hand wheel; but both wheels are firmly fixed on the same spindle or axletree, and therefore, one wheel cannot turn without the other. The cranks are put at what uncle calls " right angles" to each other. This is a right angle L, and this is the posi- tion of the two cranks, and so when one crank is in a line with the connecting rod (which is the position in which it has little power to turn the wheels) the other crank is in the strongest position for turning the wheels. ** The cylinders are generally placed thus : (c) is the cylinder, (T) the T piece sliding between two guides (g). (c r) the connect- ing rod jointed to the T piece at one end, and to the crank (k) at the other end. " There are a great many ways of making engines ; but uncle says it is best for me to understand and remember one plan com- pletely now, and that by and bye I shall be 30 VISIT TO MANCHESTER. able to understand the most complicated engine." Just as Fred had finished reading the above account of the steam-engine, which very much pleased both his parents, as well as George, some schoolfellows called to see him on his return, and he put down his book to go out to welcome them. George how- ever peeped into the book, and said with a tone of pleasure, "There are a great many more amusing things in Fred's book, papa. I can see cotton mills, iron foundries, and coal pits." " Do not look into it now," said Fred, as he left the room ; '* I will read some more to-morrow." 31 THE SWALLOW'S RETURN. Now April comes, and clothes the scene With Spring's bright colour, liveliest green While the warm sun and frequent showers Change the green buds to brilliant flowers. The swallows, at the voice of spring, Hither return on outstretched wing:^ — Say, faithful birds, where have you been ? What hardships felt, what wonders seen ? 'Tis said, that fearing frost and snow, Across the ocean depths you go, And on warm Afric's shores remain. Till spring allures you back again. No vessels o'er the swelling tide Can with such ease and swiftness glide, As you, when gentle winds blow fair, Cut through the yielding tracts of air ! 32 THE swallow's return. But if by lengthened course oppressed. Your drooping pinions seek for rest, — You on some friendly ship alight, 'Till able to renew your flight. Beneath the thatch of some snug cot You choose a warm, convenient spot. There train your young, till, by degrees. They gather strength to cross the seas. As soon as winter's storms draw nigh. With all your family you fly : — Yet shall the same clay-moulded nest Receive again its wandering guest. THOMAS AND THE DOG. There was a little boy named Thomas, who endeavoured always to behave well, and who was careful to mind what was said to him. He liked to be thought well of by his father and his other friends. It gave him great pleasure when he heard his father say, " I can trust Thomas, he always does as he is bid, and he always speaks the truth." During the summer, Thomas and his fa- ther were in the habit of taking a walk toge- gether before breakfast ; and the boy liked the walk very much, for the air was fresh and sweet, the dew sparkled brightly on the grass and flowers, the birds sang gaily, and his father explained every thing that appeared new or strange to him. One morning, when Thomas tapped at his father's bed-room door to know if he was c5 34 THOMAS AND THE DOG. ready to go out, he found that his father had a bad head-ache and would not be able to walk before breakfast. ** But, Thomas," said his father, '* there is no reason why you should be deprived of your walk ; you are a steady boy, and I will trust you to go by yourself/' " Papa," said Thomas, " I should like to go very much, and I will take care to do nothing that I should not do if we were walking together." So having his father's permission to take a walk by himself, Thomas ran down to the kitchen for a piece of bread, which he put into his pocket, intending to eat it in case he should be hungry before he got home. He then set off. He soon came to some pleasant fields, full of daisies and buttercups, and he saw the bees flying and humming about the flowers. He heard the cuckoo sing, and wished very much to discover whereabouts that singular bird was ; but although he looked carefully at the trees and hedges, he could not find out the cuckoo's hiding place. At the end of the second field there was THOxMAS AND THE DOG. 35 a stile. This he climbed over, and ho was glad to see that he should soon come to ano- ther, for he liked to climb over stiles. The next field he came into was a corn- field. The blades of corn were very young, and Thomas was careful to walk only upon the path. After the corn-field, the path led through a turnip field, and at the end of the turnip field was a high gate with five bars, and no stile. So Thomas was obliged to climb over the gate. He did this very carefully, for fear he should miss his footing and fall. He soon jumped down on the other side, and found himself in a pleasant green shady lane. Some large trunks of trees were lying upon the ground to dry, before they were used as timber, and Thomas sat down upon one of them. A little way on he saw a pond with four ducks swimming about in it. Here he stood a few minutes looking at the ducks, and he broke off four small pieces of bread which he threw to them. He was much amused to see how greedily the ducks gobbled up the bread. He then walked down the lane, and hear- 36 THOMAS AND THE DOG. ing the sound of wheels rattling along, he knew he must be near the high road. Just as he came to the corner of the lane by the high road, he saw a poor dog lying on the ground nearly dead. It appeared to be very ill, and lay quite still. It was so thin that all the bones of its body were marked upon the skin, and its eyes were almost closed. " Poor creature !" cried Thomas, " what is the matter with you ?" As Thomas said this, the poor half-starved dog opened his eyes, lifted up his head a little from the ground, and looked at him in a very piteous manner. Thomas felt quite sorry for the dog. " Can he want food V said he to himself: and he pulled out his piece of bread, which he had never thought of eating during his pleasant ramble. When the dog saw the bread, he moved his tail as if trying to wag it, and he strove to get up, but was so weak that he could not. *' Poor fellow!" said Thomas, "are you hungry? then you shall have some of my bread." And so saying, he broke off a small piece and held it close to the dog's mouth. THOMAS AND THE DOG. 37 The dog snapped it up, and Thomas broke off another bit and gave it to him. The dog ate it eagerly and looked very anxiously at the kind boy for more. When he had had three or four bits more, he made an effort to stand, but he was still so weak that he could not. As soon as he got up, he fell down on his side again ; but he could wag his tail a little, and at that Thomas was pleased, thinking it a sign that the dog was getting better. He sat down on the grass by the dog, and broke him off some more bread. The dog ate readily all that his young friend gave him. But Thomas was wise, and fed him with a sparing hand, for he knew it was dan- gerous to eat heartily after long fasting. In a few minutes the dog once more tried to raise himself on his legs, and was able to do so. Thomas was now quite delighted. He remembered the pond that he had left a little way off in the lane, and he thought the dog would like some water. But how was he to get the dog to the pond ? The dog could not walk, for he was still too weak. 38 THOMAS AND THE DOG. " I will carry him to the pond/' thought the kind little boy, *' if he will let me ;" and he took up the dog in his arms. Thomas found the dog was almost too heavy for him to carry, although he was so thin and ill. But he succeeded in carrying him to the pond, and placed the poor weak beast so that he might drink some of the water easily. The dog lapped up a little water; then looked in the boy's face, wagged his tail, and tried to shew how much he thanked him for his kindness. Thomas gave him some more bread when he had done drinking, and soon had the pleasure to see that the dog could walk, although but slowly and with difficulty. It was now time for Thomas to think of return- ing home ; so he patted his lean friend gently on the head and wishing him good bye, began to walk homeward, Thomas had not walked far along the high road, when he was surprised to find the little dog following him as fast as his weak legs w^uld let him. " Poor creature !" said Thomas, "is this the way in which you try THOMAS AND THE DOG. 39 to thank me for the breakfast you have had?" and so saying, he stroked the dog, who wag- ged his tail and rubbed his head against him. *'But I cannot stop to play with you now,'^ said Thomas, "for my father expects me to be at home ; so good bye, little dog, good bye !" and once more Thomas walked on. But the dog would not leave him, but continued to follow him until he arrived at the gate of his father's house. His father was walking in the garden when Thomas arrived, and, as soon as he saw him, came to open the gate. He let Thomas in, but took no notice of the dog, who on being shut out, sat at the gate whining most piteously. *' Dear father," said Thomas, " will not you let that little dog come in ?" " No :" said his father, '^ I do not want the dog. How came he there ? why should we let him in?" Thomas told his father all that had hap- pened, and how the dog would follow him home, and he said " the poor creature is so grateful to me that he does not like to leave me." 40 THOMAS AND THE D06. *^ You have certainly behaved very kindly to this little dog," said his father ; ** but what are we to do with him ? how are we to feed him ? I am not rich, and have no money to throw away on dogs.'' '* If you will be so kind as to let me keep this dog/' said Thomas, *'I will buy the meat and biscuit that he will want, out of my own money." " But we have no kennel for him to be in at night," said his father, "and I cannot allow him to be in the house." ** Dear father," said Thomas, ** I can make him a kennel. He will not want one while the summer lasts, but can sleep in the open air. In the mean time, I can make a kennel, and have it ready by the time winter comes. Will you give me leave ?" Thomas's father, who always wished to indulge his son in every thing reasonable, complied with his request. Happy Thomas! how eagerly he ran and opened the gate ! The dog frisked in as well as he was able, licked Thomas's hands, and lay down at his feet. But he did not lie there long, he was quite restless with joy, rubbed his head on THOMAS AND THE DOG. 41 his young master's shoes, and tried to shew his gratitude in every possible way that a dog could. Thomas seemed fully to share in the dog's happiness, and after caressing him a little, he put him in the yard, and giving him a bone, he went to get his own breakfast. All breakfast time, Thomas talked about the dog, and the kennel that he intended to make for him. "When he had finished his lessons, he put on his hat, called his dog, and went to the cottage of a carpenter who lived near, to ask him some questions about the kennel. Thomas had been very kind to this carpen- ter, and had often lent a few play-things to his children, and also some of his books, so that the carpenter was always glad to oblige him; and when Thomas began to ask him about the dog's kennel, he did not send him away, but told him in what way to set to work to make one. ** And, Master Thomas," said he ; *' I will come, if you like and show you how to do it, when I have finished my day's work." Thomas thanked the carpenter very much 42 THOMAS AND THE DOG. indeed for this kindness, and went home quite happy. In the evening the carpenter came accord- ing to his promise, and brought some pieces of wood with him. ** Here, Thomas," said he, " you have been very kind to my children, and I am hap- py to be able to do you a little kindness in return, and, therefore, I have brought these pieces of wood as a present to you : they will serve for part of the kennel." Thomas repeated his thanks to the carpen- ter, and they began to work at the kennel together. The carpenter told him to saw the pieces of wood with which to make the sides, all of the same length, and for this purpose, to measure with the foot-rule; so Thomas took the foot-rule, which he saw was divided into twelve parts, called inches, and measured carefully the length that he required. Now the sides of the kennel were to be twenty-six inches, or two feet and two inches long, and Thomas, accordingly, had to place the rule three times on the piece of wood that he was going to saw. The first time he placed one end of the rule even with THOMAS AND THE DOG. 43 one end of the piece of wood, and with a bit of chalk, marked the wood where the other end of the rule came. He next slided the rule along the wood till the first end of the rule was even with the chalk mark, and then made another chalk mark on the wood, where the other end of the rule now came. And, last, he slided the rule along the wood, till two divisions or inches had passed his second chalk mark, and then, at the end of these two inches, he made a third chalk mark. At this third chalk-mark, he began to saw. When the piece of wood was sawed com- pletely through, Thomas found that he had in his hand a piece measuring twenty-six inches, which was the exact length that he wanted. The carpenter now wished Thomas good- bye, first telling him to go on measuring and sawing as he had done, till he had got as many pieces of wood as he would require for the sides of his kennel, and promised to come and help him again, when he should have the wood prepared for use. Thomas continued steadily at his work after the carpenter had gone, his little dog sitting close to him. 44 THOMAS AND THE DOG. When it began to get dark, Thomas put the rule and saw carefully by, and gave Rover, for that was the name by which he called the dog, his supper ; but felt sorry that he could not provide him with a com- fortable bed for the night. *' If it should rain," said he to himself, " my poor dog will get wet : — what can I cover him with V So he began to look about, and at last re- membered that his mother had an old barrel, that had held cranberries in the winter, but which was now empty. As soon as he thought of this barrel, he ran into the house, the dog following him, and asked his mother if she would lend him the cranberry barrel to make a bed in for his dog, until he had finished the kennel. His mother willingly gave him the barrel, and Thomas took it into the yard, laid it on one side, and put a little clean straw in it. Rover seemed to guess what his kind master was doing for him. He went, and curled himself round in the straw as soon as it was ready, and Thomas had the pleasure of seeing him comfortably housed for the night. He worked every day at the kennel, the THOMAS AND THE DOG. 45 carpenter helping him now and then, and showing him how to nail the different parts together, and to plane the pieces of wood, so that they might be quite smooth, and that no splinters might be left in them. About the middle of the summer the kennel was completed ; and Thomas asked his fa- ther to look at it. His father went to the shed, and was much pleased to see how neatly the work had been finished. " But, Thomas," said he, " this wood will soon be- come rotten in the open air." " What shall I do to hinder its becoming rotten? Other people's kennels do not rot," said Thomas. ** Because they paint them ; and you must either paint or tar yours," replied his father ; ** how shall you manage to do that?" " I will buy some paint at the painter's," said the boy ; " and then I can paint it my- self." So Thomas went to the painter, and told him that he wanted some paint, and what for, and then asked if he would be so kind as to give him some. The painter, who was fond of Thomas, because he was such a good- 46 THOMAS AND THE DOG. natured, obliging boy, consented to give him what he wanted. " But what colour do you choose to have?" said he. " Oh! never mind," replied Thomas, ''any colour will do." " I don't think you mean exactly what you say," said the painter, laughing; " should you like your kennel to be painted a bright yellow?" " Indeed I should not," thought Thomas, and, after a little hesitation, as if unable to fix upon a colour, he asked the painter what colour he would advise him to have. The painter told him that kennels were usually painted dark green, or slate colour. " Well then," said Thomas, '' I will have slate colour." The painter immediately mixed as much paint as the kennel required, and gave Thomas a brush to put on the paint with, and said, " I am very glad, Thomas, that I can assist you, for you have been very obliging to me : — and do just look, before you go, how beautifully the bean seed which you gave me has come up. The plants have given me quantities of excellent French beans. I have THOMAS AND THE DOG. 47 already had three large dishes off them, and they seem to promise me many more." How happy Thomas felt ! The seed which he had given to the painter, was some that he had saved out of his own garden the summer before. He saw plainly how pleasant it was to have friends ; and that to help others, was the way to be sometimes helped by others in return. So Thomas painted his kennel, and when the paint was dry, and the smell had gone off, he put his dog into it. It was not necessary for his mother to ask for her cranberry barrel, for Thomas was careful to return it to her as soon as he had done with it. He continued to try to oblige every body, was loved by his father and mother, and had friends in all who knew him. 48 THE BREAD-FRUIT OF OTAHEITE. There is an island where no peasants toil To drive the ploughshare in the fertile soil. No seed is sown, no corn-fields deck the plain, No pond'rous mill-stones bruise the ripen'd grain. Their mellow harvest ripens over head. Their groves supply them with abundant bread ! On stately trees, the sun and genial air, Without man's aid, unceasing food prepare. Still further benefits these trees bestow, — The stem is fell'd, — behold the light canoe ! From the tough fibres of the bark proceeds Such simple clothing as the climate needs, — Delightful clime, where flowers perpetual grow. Unchecked by winter's frost, or showers of snow ! HARRIET S TRIALS. On a fine summer evening, a party of little girls were amusing themselves on the lawn before a country house, which belonged to the father of one of the children. Two of the elder girls were playing at 6 •: D 50 Harriet's trials. " Les Graces," and the younger ones were looking on, eager to see who would be the victor. They had kept up the game to eighty- seven ; and '' Now Mary," and ^'Take care, Harriet," cried the lookers on, as the arms of the players grew weary, and their aim became more unsteady. " I wonder who will keep it up longest," said one of the younger children to another, ** I hope Mary Langham will." " I don't think she will," replied her com- panion ; " Mary is always tired of these games before Harriet is." "Why do you hope that Mary will win, Lucy ?" " Oh !" said Lucy, *' because I like Mary best, she is so good-natured." " Harriet is good-natured too sometimes," said Emma. '^ Yes, sometimes, but Mary is good-na- tured always." In her eagerness for Mary's success, Lucy passed closer to the players, so close as to touch Mary's elbow, just as she was about to throw off the hoop for the ninety-sixth Harriet's trials, 51 time. It fell at her feet. ^' You little tire- some creature 1" cried Harriet, turning sharply round to Lucy ; " you have spoiled our game just at the most interesting time; why could you not stand farther off?" "I am very sorry I spoiled your game Mary, very sorry indeed," said Lucy, look- ing up in Mary's face. " It does not signify," replied Mary, gen- tly, " I dare say I should have let the hoop fall by this time, if you had not touched me, my arms are so tired." *' Mine are not in the least tired," cried Harriet, exultingly, '* I am just as ready to play now, as I was at first. Come, Mary, let us begin again." " Perhaps some one else would like to play,'^ said Mary, looking around at their companions. " Elizabeth, come here, but make haste, I mean to conquer you all," said Harriet, laughing. ^' Now stand back, you little ones, and don't spoil this game, as you did the last." At the sound of that hasty voice, the younger children retreated. D 2 52 HARRIET'S TRIALS " You need not be afraid, Harriet, no one wishes to stand near yoUy" said Lucy. The emphasis on ** you," made Harriet's colour rise to scarlet, and an angry retort rose to her lips, when Lucy's attention was diverted by Mary's offer to assist her in making a daisy chain that should reach from the arbutus by the parlour window, to the magnolia at the end of the lawn. Lucy gave a joyful assent, and ran to gather her frock full of daisies, and shower them into Mary's lap as she sat on the grass. Harriet went on with the game of *^ Les Graces," but the pleasure of it was gone ; for she was out of humour with Lucy, with herself, and her antagonist. First Elizabeth stood too near her, then she went too far off, and then the fault was found to be in the sun, which shone full in her eyes, and daz- zled her so that she could not see what she was about. Elizabeth drew back, and came forward, and finally changed places : it would not do. Harriet's murmurs continued till her wearied companions at last refused to play any more with one who exacted so much compliance from others, and yielded so little in return. Harriet's trials. 53 " Besides, Harriet," said they, *'you have had the hoops so long ; some one else may like to play now; you do not consider that; you never do." '*! never do, do I not, Miss Elizabeth?" said Harriet, angrily, and colouring with in- dignation ; '* upon my word, you give me a very pretty character. Well, I will do one thing to please you all, however, I will go away, if I am so very disagreeable ; you can do very well without me, I dare say," and so saying, Harriet flung down the sticks and hoop with an air of contempt, and walked away in all the dignity of sulkiness. To her no small mortification, Harriet found her companions very much of her opinion, that they could do exceedingly well without her. The merry sound of their voices, and the peals of joyous laughter, reached her ears through the screen of flowering shrubs that skirted the lawn, and divided it from a gravel walk, which Harriet paced up and down for some time in pride and sullenness. ** I will not go back to them unless I am asked, I am determined," thought Harriet, *' and they will be glad to ask me, I know. 54 Harriet's trfals. because they will want my help ;" and she thought rightly, her help was wanted. Har- riet was the readiest to invent, the most skil- ful to execute, the best player of old games, the cleverest at new ones. Besides all these agreeable talents, Harriet had many good qualities ; she was kind, generous, and sincere. What then was wanting to make her a plea- sant companion ? She wanted one thing, without which all the talents and good quali- ties in the world will not obtain for us the love and good will of others ; she wanted temper. Harriet would do much for those she lov^d, she would willingly assist them through any difficulty in their work or their play ; she was ready to explain the most knotty points in the French grammar, to play over a difficult passage of music, and her abundant stock of toys were always as much at the service of her companions, as at her own ; but with all this readiness to oblige, Harriet failed in securing the love of her as- sociates. She was continually saying some hasty or unkind thing, in the irritation of the moment, not very seriously intended at the time, and forgotten five minutes after, or if Harriet's trials. 55 thought of, quickly apologised for to herself, *' because," thought she, ^' though I was a little hasty and passionate, every one knows I have a cfood heart," This phrase of a good heart, and the habit of thinking a good heart an excuse for a bad temper, Harriet had ac- quired from a well meaning, but not very wise aunt, with whom she had spent a consider- able time during the absence of her mother from England. The two ideas at length be- came so confused in her mind, that Harriet was in some danger of learning to think, that a bad temper did not signify where there was a good heart. It was fortunate for the little girl that the return of her mother saved her from a mistake that might have made her unhappy for life. Long and impatiently Harriet continued to pace up and down the gravel walk, listen- ing to the voices of her play-fellows, longing to be with them, but unable or unwilling to conquer herself so far as to join them with- out a special invitation, that should spare her pride from confessing, though her good sense told her, — that she had been in the wrong. Such an invitation, however, her companions 56 Harriet's trials. were not inclined to send. It is true they missed an active and useful partaker of their sports, but they were also rid of one who was frequently out of humour, unless she were allowed to have every thing her own way. Gradually the voices died away, and were heard again at intervals, and at a distance. The lawn and " Les Graces," and daisy chains were abandoned, for hide-and-seek, and Harriet listened to the voices of success- ful seekers raised high in merry exultation, and the laughing screams of the captives as they were dragged in glee from their hiding places, till her pride fairly gave way. Soli- tude and neglect are the best possible cures for ill-humour. Harriet had just squeezed through the lilac bushes, and was boldly ad- vancing to join the party, when little Lucy well nigh drove her back again by exclaiming, *' Oh ! here comes Harriet ; I thought she would be tired of being by herself." Fortu- nately, she was saved from thus punishing herself in a second fit of ill-humour, by the appearance of Mary Langham, — Mary the peace maker, who, without possessing the half of Harriet's talents, was invariably be- Harriet's trials. 57 loved by all who knew her, simply because she was invariably sweet-tempered, and will- ing to yield in small things, and in great also, when duty did not stand in the way. Mary was so evidently glad to see her, and so good- naturedly anxious to have Harriet and all the party on good terms again, that it was not possible to resist her efforts to restore peace. The evening glided pleasantly away, and bid fair to end in harmony, when an unfortunate blunder in a quadrille overset Harriet's lately acquired good-humour. " There, I thought so, I knew how it would be, if those tiresome little things were allowed to dance with us," cried Harriet, her voice and colour rising : '* I never saw any thing so stupid in my life; don't you know your right hand from your left, child V continued she, turning angrily to Lucy. ** To be sure I do," said Lucy ; " I made a mistake, any body might make a mistake for once, Harriet ; and you need not be so very angry, nor call me stupid. I dare say you made mistakes some times, when you were as little as I am." " Not such foolish mistakes as you do. D 5 58 HARRIETTS TRIALS. T should never have mistaken my right hand for my left ; at any rate, if I did not know one from the other, I would sit down, and not throw other people out. It is too bad for one to spoil the pleasure of seven." *' I think so too, Harriet, and therefore I advise you to sit down ;" said a calm voice from behind. It proceeded from Harriet's mother, who had entered when her daugh- ter's voice was at the loudest, and her cheeks at the reddest. ^'It must have been a terrible mistake, indeed, to cause so much disturbance ; what was it, Harriet V '^ Oh, nothing ma'am, I mean not much ;" said Lucy, pitying Harriet's confusion ; *' let us begin again, and I will try not to go wrong a second time." ** I had rather not dance any more," said Harriet, with some appearance of sullen- ness. " I had rather you should not dance either, in your present temper," said Harriet's mo- ther, in a low voice ; *' but as your sitting down, would prevent others from dancing, I must beg you to go on." HARRIET'S TRIALS. 59 Harriet, who saw that her mother was dis- pleased, did not venture to make any fur- ther objection. She did what she was re- quired to do, indeed, but so ungraciously, that there was not one of the little party who did not secretly rejoice when the hour for separating arrived. It did not escape Harriet's observation, that her companions were glad to be rid of her. Even Mary shook hands with her more coldly than usual, and tears of mingled sorrow and mortifica- tion stole down her cheeks, when she thought how eagerly she had anticipated this even- ing, and how different were her feelings at this moment, from those of the morning. It was bad enough to be conscious of her own folly ; it was still worse to be obliged to talk about it : '* And I must talk about it when I see Edward, for he will be sure to ask me if I spent a pleasant evening ; and then if I say no, he will ask me why, and then I shall be obliged to confess how ill- tempered I was before Mamma, and Anne, and Louisa." These uncomfortable thoughts were passing through Harriet's mind as she slowly descended the stairs the next morning. 60 Harriet's trials. and entered the room where her mother, and sisters, and her brother were at break- fast, with a pace so unlike her usual bound- ing step, that Anne abandoned the defence of her basin of milk from the kitten, who was trying to put her head into it, and came to ask her sister if she were not well ; and Ed- ward set down an untasted piece of honey- comb, to laugh at Harriet's tardy advance and discontented face. I wish to get rid of my faults ; and so does every body, I sup- pose." " I suppose so too, — provided they could get rid of them without any trouble ; but they cannot be very sincere in the wish, or take the proper means." 63 "What are tke proper means, mamma? If you will tell me what I ought to do, I will do it ; that is, I will try." " My dear child," said her mother, " the means are so obvious, that you do not need my assistance to find them out." '^ I might be silent when I feel inclined to give a sharp answer, till I could control myself so far as to give a gentle one, or I might " " You need not look any further for a remedy, my dear sister," interrupted Ed- ward. " You would not find a better, if you were to try, from this moment till to- morrow morning." **But it is not so very easy to hold one's tongue, when one is angry," said Harriet. " I assure you, mamma, I have tried some- times, and I have not been able to succeed." '* I know it is not easy," answered her mother, '* I know it from experience." " From experience ! you, mamma !" cried all the children at once ; '* now you are joking ; no one ever saw you cross, or heard you give sharp answers." "You never did, I hope," replied their 64 mother, smiling ; '* but when I was Harriet's age, I gave nearly as many sharp answers, as she does." " Then, mamma, will you tell us, if you please, how you managed to cure yourself so completely?" said Harriet : "perhaps I might succeed by the same means." " I believe I was chiefly cured, by the numberless mortifications to which my unac- commodating temper subjected me. I could not bear to find myself an object of dislike to those around me. One circumstance which occurred, on the very day I attained your present age, Harriet, made so much im- pression on me, that I set about my reforma- tion from that time, in good earnest.'' " And what was that circumstance ? Is it a story, and will you tell us V cried the two younger children, in a breath. "It is not a story ; Anne you need not look so eager," said their mother laughing ; "but you shall hear all I have to tell ; — and that will not be much. Your grandfather and grandmother were going to spend the Christ- mas holidays at the house of a lady, with whom I thought myself a great favourite, Harriet's trials. 65 and therefore I expected to be invited to go with them, especially as two cousins, both younger than myself, were going. Other guests were expected, and among them a gentleman who had been a great traveller, and who had seen many things that were new and strange to older and wiser persons than I was. I had heard that this gentle- man was particularly kind and communicative to young people ; and I expected to have a great deal of amusement as well as instruc- tion. You will easily believe that my disap- pointment was very great, when I heard I was not to go, and my shame was still greater when my mother told me her reason for not taking me. She said that her friend had a large family ; she was sorry to say, that both in my plays and studies I showed great im- patience of contradiction and want of tem- per, and that till I endeavoured to correct myself of these faults, she would not run the risk of making her friends uncomfort- able, by the ill-humour of a child." '' Poor mamma !" said Harriet, " and what did you say ? what did you do ?" " I said nothing ; I felt the justice of my 66 mother's reproof; but when she was gone, I did what I suppose most little girls of ten years old would have done, on a similar oc- casion, I sat down and cried very heartily." "Poor mamma!" repeated all the three children, — " well, and then," — clustering round her as they spoke. "And then," said their mother smiling, "when I had cried till I could cry no longer, it occurred to me that crying would not help me, but, that I might save myself from fu- ture disgrace, and my mother from the pain of punishing me, by keeping a strict watch over myself, and either be silent or walk away, whenever I felt inclined to dispute about trifles, or give short answers, as you call them." " Now, mamma, tell us, if you will be so good, the first, the very first trial you made, and whether you won the victory," said Harriet, who had listened with the greatest interest to her mother's story. " My first trial was made, if I remember rightly, about half an hour after my father and mother had left the house. I had one of my frocks to mend, and while I was gone harihet's trials. 67 up stairs to look for it, my little brother William opened my work-box, and took out a ball of cotton for the kitten to play with. When I came down stairs again, they were in the midst of their diversion ; the kitten bad unwound the whole ball of cotton, which was twisted round every chair and table in the room, and William had taken every pin out of my pincushion, and stuck them in the sofa pillows." *^ The tiresome little creatures !'* exclaim- ed Harriet, with sparkling eyes, and mount- ing colour, '* I would have" She recol- lected herself, and stopped short ; her mother smiled, and Edward and her sisters laughed outright. " You would have been exceedingly an- gry, I dare say, as I was. I felt very much inclined to scold my brother, and give the kitten a slap, but I am happy to say I did not ; I won the victory, Harriet, and content- ed myself with putting the kitten out of the room. As to William, he was too young to understand why he should not divert himself with my work-box as readily as with his own ball, so I carefully took all the pins out of 68 Harriet's trials. the sofa pillows, and stuck them in the pin- cushion once more, and ever after I remem- bered to turn the key of my box, when I was leaving William alone in the room." *^ That was better than getting into a pas- sion certainly, but the worst of it is, I never think so till it is too late, and I cannot unsay what I have said, however sorry I may be." " No, but you can avoid committing a si- milar fault another time." . '* Yes," said Harriet hesitatingly, "but," — and at this word " but" she made a long pause. ''But, what my dear?" said her mother, after waiting some time for the rest of Har- riet's speech. *'I was going to say something, mamma, but I am afraid you will think it very foolish." "Let me hear it, however." "I was going to say — to ask — if — if — temper was of such very great consquence — I mean when I, — when people have good hearts, mamma ?" " I will not find fault with your expres- sion, my dear," said her mother, smiling, " because, as your meaning is not, I believe, very clear even, to yourself, it is no wonder Harriet's trials. 69 that your language should be confused. Be- fore I answer your question, I should like to know what you mean by a good heart ?" '^ Oh, mamma, I am sure you know very well what I mean. Have you not often heard people say of other people that their hearts were good, though they were not very good-tempered." '* Yes, I have heard many say so, but they spoke without thinking, or they would not have made such an assertion. If by a good heart you mean, love and kindness to others, the wish to be of service to them, and to render them happy, harsh words and cross looks, are odd means for such a purpose." Harriet was silent for a few minutes, re- flecting on what her mother said. " But, mamma," said she at length, '* 1 think — don't you think, that people who are not good-tempered, may yet be willing to be of great service to their friends." " By great service I suppose you mean, they would help their friends out of great dangers or great difficulties. Remember, my dear child, you may not be called upon above once in your life for such exertions ; 70 Harriet's trials. perhaps, they may never be required of you ; but you are called upon every day, almost every hour, for some small service or trifling kindness. And if you are not obliging in little things when it is in your power, how am I to believe you would be in greater." ** I would not believe any such thing," said Edward, " nor would any one else, I should think. Suppose papa had said to that poor fellow, who tumbled into the muddy pool, in Dagley Lane, the other day : ' My good friend, it is not worth my while to help you out of that ditch; but if you were soused over head and ears in the river, I would fish you up, with great pleasure.' What do you think the man would have said ?" " I should have said : ' I had rather you would pull me out of the ditch now, and I will take care not to fall into the river,' " said Harriet. *^ That would be the answer of most peo- ple, I believe," said her mother. *' And now, my dear children, I wish, if you have done your breakfasts, that you would find some- thing else to do; we have talked long enough on this subject." Harriet's trials. 71 Her mother's observations made a great impression upon Harriet ; for, although hasty and petulant, she was not self-willed. But she gave a desponding sigh, when she re- flected how often she had resolved to cure herself of impatience, and how ill she had kept her resolution. " Only last year," thought she, '* when I scolded Anne so ter- ribly, for leaving my bird's cage open ; and made her cry so loud, and wake poor Ed- ward, who was so ill at the time, T did say, then, I would never be in a passion again ; and yet, though I am a year older, I am no better; indeed I think I am worse. However, I will try ; I recollect, when I first tried to sketch that great ash-tree at the end of the garden, I threw down my pencil, and said I should never do it ; but mamma said I could, if I persevered ; and so I did, — very well, too, — mamma said." Full of these good designs, Harriet went to water her flowers. Alas ! some one had been there before her, and Harriet's temper was put to the proof rather sooner than she expected. The first object that met her eyes, was her sister Jane, a little girl three years 72 Harriet's trials. old, mounted on a chair, busily employed in putting a huge flaring dandelion into a pot. " See, how pretty !" said Jane, holding up the pot in exultation, as Harriet advanced. " Very pretty, indeed," said Harriet; *' but where did you get the pot, my dear?" '* There, I took out that ugly little bit of stick," said Jane, pointing to something which lay at her feet. Harriet stooped to pick it up, and what was her consternation, when she discovered that the '^ ugly bit of stick," that Jane's busy fingers had grubbed up, was a cutting from a very choice foreign plant, which had been given to her lately, by a friend of her mother's ; her precious Linnea Borealis, that she had received so joyfully, and was watch- ing with so much anxiety, and just as it was beginning to strike root ! '* You little naughty creature, have I not told you a hundred times, " the sentence was begun, but not finished. '* I will not, I am determined I will not fail the very first time," said [Harriet, and, unable to trust her fortitude with the sight of the dandelion, which poor little Jane, her face dimpled all HARRIETS TRIALS. dS over with smiles, still held up to be admired, she ran fairly out of the room. ^* Bravo !" said her brother Edward, who had seen what passed, through a glass door; '* but you should not have run away, Harriet, my dear ; it is so inglorious to re- treat." '* Not when the danger is beyond our strength," said his mother; " Harriet has done wisely, to retreat this time ; the next, there will be no occasion for it." ** It is but a shabby sort of victory, that is gained by running away, however," said Edward ; ** there is no glory in it." Now, as it happened, that it had cost Harriet a good deal of effort even to run away, Edward's remark appeared to her highly unjust, and she told him so, in a much louder tone than there was any occasion for. Edward was a very good-natured boy, and extremely fond of his sister ; but he could not always resist the temptation of teazing her. He proposed that like victors of old, Harriet should be deco- rated with a crown, but of what the crown should be composed, he could not exactly 74 HARRIETTS TRIALS, determine. Laurel, parsley, oak-leaves? 110, noDe of them would do ; they were too common, and there was something so uncom- mon, so exalted, in not getting into a pas- sion with a baby, about a weed with a hard name, that it deserved as uncommon a re- ward. *' A bright thought, a bright thought !" cried Edward, jumping up, and capering about the room ; ^' a wreath of dandelions, it shall be, which will be uncommon, and appro- priate ; besides, it will be a peaceful emblem too, as it should be, for it puts one in mind of nothing but an old cow chewing the cud in a meadow; — a capital thought ! I'll go and gather some directly, and little Jenny shall help me. — No, it is not a capital thought ; it is a very stupid one," said Edward, sud- denly recollecting himself, at the sight of Harriet's look of mortification. ^' Mother, don't you think me very silly? — Harriet, I am sure you must think me very ill-natur- ed ; are you angry with me V "Yes, a little," said Harriet ingenuously ; " but I will get over it, and without running away, this time." Her mother smiled, and held out her hand. Harriet's trials. 75 *' I told you, you would not find it necessary the second time." Days and weeks, many weeks passed away, in which Harriet maintained sun- dry battles with her prompt tongue and irritable temper, in which, if she was not always quite victorious, she had at least the satisfaction of finding her task less and less difficult with every succeeding trial. One day, Harriet found her brother en- gaged in reading the life of Dr. Franklin, and when he came to that part, where Franklin speaks of the method he took to correct himself of some of his faults, Ed- ward showed the passage to Harriet, and asked her how she would like to keep such a list, and whether she would have courage to make a blot against the word "mildness,'' every time she failed in that particular. Harriet said, she thought she should have courage, but that she did not see the use of it. '^ You know, Edward," said she, " that I have kept my resolution pretty well hitherto. You say yourself, that I am not half so apt to give cross looks and sharp answers, as I was a month ago, and it would be very dis- E 2 76 Harriet's trials. agreeable to see every thing one did wrongly, written down." "So it would," said Edward; "but I think we should take more care for that very reason. I know that I, for one, should hate to have a long row of blots staring me in the face every time I opened my desk. I'll tell you what we will do ; I want to cure myself of my slovenly habits. I have lost two rulers, and three blacklead-pencils, within the last fortnight, because I never think of putting any thing away after I have used it ; and if mamma had not luckily come into my room yesterday morning, after I was gone to school, papa's pocket compass that he lent me, would have been spoiled ; I left it in little Will's reach, and he was just going to hammer away at the glass, to get out that funny shaking thing. I will make two lists, one for myself, and one for you; I will keep yours, and you shall keep mine." Edward took two sheets of large paper, and ruled seven perpendicular lines, which he crossed by horizontal lines ; and at the head of each column, he wrote the name of a day in the week. On the left of the first Harriet's trials. 77 line he wrote order in small capitals in his own list, and mildness in his sister's. Every time Edward left his books or pen- cils, &c. lying about, after he had done with them, Harriet was to make a dot in ink ; and when Harriet allowed herself to be made angry, by any of those trifling differences of inclination or opinion, which must always occur, when two or three people are con- stantly together, Edward was to place a dot on her paper. When the lists were made out, Harriet carried them into the room where their fa- ther and mother were sitting, and explained the plan to them. They both smiled, and their father said, that he thought it would be a very good plan, until Edward and Harriet had acquired the habit of order and gentle- ness of speech, but, then, it would be better to lay the lists aside, lest they should ac- custom themselves to censure, and find fault with each other ; and also because, as they grew older, they must learn to exercise self- control, without any such mechanical helps. '' If at the end of a month, you can show me a clean page for a week, Edward,'' con- 78 tinued his father, *' I will give you that book, ' The Wonders of Elora/ that I re- fused to lend you last week, because you were so careless." Before the first six days of the month were gone, Edward and Harriet were almost tempted to give up their work in despair ; the blots were so numerous : in the second week there were two days without a blot, in Harriet's journal, and three in Edward's. On the third they got on to Wednesday; late on Wednesday morning, something like a dispute arose about the globe, which Ed- ward had neglected to return to his father's study, after using it. Edward said, this ought not to be reckoned a piece of careless- ness, because as he was going to use the globe again after dinner, it was not worth while to put it away : but Harriet replied, it was just as easy to fetch it out of the study, as to leave it on their mother's work- table, where the little ones could get at it ; " I believe," added she, ** that one of them has meddled with it already, for here is a great scratch through the island of Juan 79 Fernandez, that was not here before, I am almost sure." " You had better be quite sure, before you find fault," said Edward ; '' now I think that scratch was always there." '^Always there! how can you talk so foolishly : — but I am talking foolishly my- self," said Harriet, suddenly recollecting her- self, — '* and there is a blot for me — what a pity ! I did think I should have had a clean page to day." " And a blot for me," said Edward ; " it was only an excuse to say, I should want the globe again after dinner : I meant to have put it away, but the truth is, I forgot it." The last week was a triumphant one for both ; all were unanimous in declaring, that not an angry word had been heard from Harriet, though William and Jane twice upset her water glass, when she was drawing ; and repeatedly turned out the contents of her work-box, in search of some trifling article to amuse themselves with ; nor was the whole house disturbed, when Edward was going to school, because his books, or 80 Harriet's trials. rules, or maps, or gloves were not to be found in the proper place. '^ A clean page, I see by your face," said his father, when Edward entered his room on the last morning of the month. ''I expected it, for I have been watching you, and there is the book I promised to give you." Edward thanked his father, took up the book, admired the plates ; thanked him again, but still he lingered, and looked as if he wished to say something. " Well, what is it, my boy ? what are you going to say ?" asked his father, who had been observing his motions. ^' I was going to say, that if you would not be displeased, I should like to give this book to Harriet. If I have learned to be more orderly, the merit is half hers, I'm sure ; I should often have forgotten if she had not reminded me ; and besides, father, it is much harder work to keep watch every day and every hour over an irritable temper, than to get rid of a slovenly habit." *' I think so, too, Edward," said his fa- ther ; *' suppose you go and talk to your mo- ther about it, you will find her up-stairs/' Harriet's trials. 81 Up-stairs Edward went, and there he found his mother arranging some beautiful plants, in a very pretty ornamental flower- stand. " Oh, that is for Harriet, I know ! thank you, mamma," said Edward. *' I'll go and call her directly, shall I ?" And without waiting for an answer, he ran down stairs again, taking six stairs at a jump. We need not describe Harriet's pleasure, on the receipt of her mother's gift ; for which of our young readers has not felt the plea- sure that a well-merited reward can bestow ? and who does not feel, that the greatest plea- sure of all, is the approbation of those who grieve to punish, and are glad to praise ? E 6 82 CRCESUS. The country of Lydia, in Asia Minor, formed part of the ancient kingdom of Persia. It is now a part of the Turkish dominions. But before Lydia was conquered by Cyrus, and made a part of the kingdom of Persia, it was an independent kingdom. The last of the kings of Lydia was Croesus. He was reputed to be the richest man of his time ; that is, he was supposed to possess more gold and silver, precious stones, cattle, corn, wine, furniture, and all other objects of use and ornament, than any person then living. It is most probable that this popular notion of his immense wealth was greatly exaggerated, but by long habit, his name and riches have been so closely connected, that we seldom think of the first apart from the latter. *' As rich as Croesus," is a common expression even of the present day, when a very rich man is meant to be pointed out. CRCESUS. 83 The account of him that has been left to us by ancient writers is so fabulous, as to pre- vent our believing even the probable parts of it with any thing like confidence ; but it is interesting, as showing the extent to which the credulity and ignorance of the people of those times could be imposed upon. It is said that he was visited at his court by Some of the most celebrated men of Greece. Among others, iiEsop, the writer of the delightful fables, and Solon, the famous lawgiver of Athens, were his guests. Croesus was vain, as well as rich ; and he wished to be thought not only the richest, but also the happiest of mankind. In this state of mindji he desired his servants to show to Solon all his immense treasures, and then he took an opportunity of asking him, whom of all the persons he had seen, he thought the happiest, not doubting that Solon would say, " Thee, O Croesus !" But Solon answered very differently. *^ O king," said he, "I think Tellus, the Athenian, best deserved to be called happy, because he, being in com- fortable circumstances, had very good and amiable children, who all survived him, and 84 CRCESUS. he died fighting in the defence of his country against the attacks of an invading enemy." Croesus, disappointed at this answer, asked Solon, who, in his estimation, was the next happiest after Tellus, among those whom he knew. But, contrary to his expectation, Solon named several others, without men- tioning " Croesus." In fact, Solon was too wise to suppose that a man must be happy because he is rich and powerful. Soon after Solon's departure, the gods, according to the story left to us, determined to punish Croesus for his vanity and pre- sumption. He had a dream, forewarning him of the calamity which was in store for him. Croesus had two sons, one dumb from the hour of his birth ; but the other, Atys, was every thing that a father could wish. Of this Atys, Croesus dreamed that he was to meet his death by the point of a spear. Roused and terrified by this dream, Croesus took from his son the command of the army which he had entrusted to him, kept him at home, and removed all the spears and darts to a distant part of the house. Some time after this, a part of the country CRCESUS. 85 was infested by a wild boar of extraordinary size, which committed great devastations ; and the inhabitants came to the king-, suppli- cating him to send his son and some chosen men, to assist them in destroying this wild beast. Croesus, fearing for the safety of his son, at first refused to send him. But Atys, when he heard of the demand, and also of his father's refusal, considering it a disgrace to be confined to the house, and not to be allowed to share in the dangers which were encountered by other young men of his age, persuaded his father not to withhold his per- mission, saying, " the dream foretold that I should perish by a spear ; but what spear or arms has a wild boar? If, indeed it had been told you that I should perish by a tusk or something similar, there would be some rea- son for your caution in keeping me from the hunt." "Son,'' said Croesus, "your reasoning- concerning my dream has induced me to alter my opinion, and I consent to your going." Atys, accordingly, joined the hunt, and was killed by a spear directed by one of the hunts- men against the boar, but which, unfortu- 86 CRCESUS. nately hit him. Croesus grieved long and bit- terly for the death of his son, to guard against which, he had taken so much precaution. The increasing power of Cyrus and the Persians, at last roused him from the state of affliction into which he had sunk. He de- termined to exert himself to check their further encroachments ; and having great reliance on the gods and their oracles, he de- termined to apply to them for advice and assistance. A curious story is related of the method which he resorted to, in order to ascertain which of all the oracles then in repute, was most to be depended upon. He despatched a messenger to each of the oracles, having arranged with them, pre- vious to their departure, that on the hun- dredth day after leaving Sardis, each should ask of the oracle to which he was sent, ** What is King CroBSus now doing at this time?" The answers were to be written down and brought back to the king at Sardis. On the day appointed, Croesus employed himself in a very singular manner. He cut in pieces a lamb and a tortoise, and boiled them together in a covered vessel of brass. CR(ESUS. 87 The answers from all the oracles were un- satisfactory, excepting that from Delphi, which was as follows : " I count the sand, I measure out the sea ; Tiie silent and the dumb are heard by me : E'en now the odours to my sense that rise, A tortoise boiling v.'ith a lamb supplies, Where brass above and brass below it lies." The faith of Croesus in the oracle of Delphi, in consequence of this answer, was so great, that he determined to send most magnificent presents to it, and to be guided by its advice, whether he should undertake an expedition against the Persians. The answer of the oracle to his inquiry upon this subject was, " that if he should undertake a war against the Persians he would destroy a mighty empire." Croesus did not stop to think whether this empire which was to be destroyed by him might not be his own. He made sure that it was the Persian empire which was doomed for destruction by the oracle ; and accordingly he prepared to en- gage in war against Cyrus and the Persians. Croesus also consulted the oracle of Del- phi in favour of his son who was unfortu- OO CRCESUS. nately dumb. The answer which he received was calculated rather to increase than al- leviate his anxiety. ** Wide ruling Ljdian, in thy wishes wild, Ask not to hear the accents of thy child ; Far better were his silence for thy peace, And sad will be the day when that shall cease." While Croesus was engaged in his prepar- ations against the Persians, advice was given to him by a certain Lydian named Sardamis, which was much more sensible, as well as more intelligible, than what he had received from the oracle. Sardamis spoke to the king in these words : *' You meditate, O king ! an attack on men who are clothed with the skins of ani- mals ; who, inhabiting a country but little cultivated, live on what they can procure, not on what they wish : strangers to the taste of wine, they drink water only ; even figs are a delicacy with which they are unac- quainted, and all our luxuries are entirely unknown to them. If you conquer them, what can you take from them who have nothing? But if you shall be defeated, it becomes you to think of what you on your CRCESUS. 89 part will be deprived. When they shall once have tasted our delicacies, we shall never again be able to get rid of them. I indeed am thankful to the gods for not in- spiring the Persians with the wish of invad- ing Lydia.'' Croesus paid no attention to the wise ad- monition of Sardamis. Superstition prevail- ed over reason. The favourable interpreta- tion put upon the oracle by Croesus was not, however, borne out by the result. He was defeated in battle ; and after he had fled and shut himself up in Sardis, this city was also taken by assault. Cyrus had given orders to his soldiers to take Croesus alive ; but during the confusion and slaughter, one of the Persian soldiers, through ignorance of the person of Croesus, was about to kill him, when the son of Croesus, who, up to that time, had been dumb, exclaimed aloud, on seeing his father's danger *'0h, man! do not kill Croesus." He thus fulfilled the oracle ; and he retained the use of his speech ever afterwards. The ancient authors, who wrote these wonderful things of Croesus, seem to have 90 CRCESUS. considered him an object of particular at- tention to the gods, who, although somewhat unkind and capricious in their treatment of him, would not permit Cyrus to take away his life. According to the same writers, when Cyrus was secure of his victory and conquest, he ordered his prisoner Croesus to be placed in chains on the summit of a huge wooden pile, and fourteen Lydian youths to be placed around him ; anxious to know whether any of the gods would interfere to save him. As Croesus stood erect on the pile, the words of Solon came into his memory and he cried out with a loud voice *' Solon ! Solon ! Solon !" When the reason for this exclamation was explained to Cyrus, he re- pented of his cruelty, and gave orders that the fire which had already been lighted should be extinguished, and that Croesus with his companions should be saved. But all the efforts that were made to extinguish the flames were ineffectual, so fiercely did they burn. In this extremity, Croesus implored the assistance of Apollo, intreating that, if he had ever made him any acceptable present, CRCESUS. 91 he would now deliver him from the impending danger. When Croesus with tears had thus invoked the god, the sky, which before was serene and tranquil, suddenly became dark and gloomy, a violent storm of rain succeed- ed, and the fire of the pile was extinguished. This event satisfied Cyrus that Croesus was a favourite of the gods. Causing him to be taken down from the pile — *' Croesus," said he, addressing him, '* what could induce you to invade my territories, and become my enemy rather than my friend ?" ** O king," replied Croesus, *^ I attacked your dominions, impelled and deluded by the deity of the Greeks. No one can be so foolish as not to prefer peace to war. In peace children bury their parents ; but war causes parents to bury their children. It must have pleased the gods that these things should so happen." Croesus was ever after trusted and es- teemed by Cyrus, but he lost his kingdom, and passed the remainder of his life in ob- scurity. With his reign, Lydia also ceased to be a kingdom ; and nothing further de- serving of notice is related of him. 92 THE HOUSE-FLY. *^I WONDER, Mr. Fly, what you will do with yourself now the cold rainy weather is coming on !" exclaimed Arthur Campbell one morning, as he was watching a fly crawl- ing languidly over his slate. " It seems very weak," continued he, addressing his mother, who sat working at the same table. *^ It has scarcely strength to brush its wings, mamma. Do you know where flies hide themselves in the winter ?" " I do not think they hide themselves at all, my dear," replied Mrs. Campbell, " I believe most of them die before winter." "Oh, mamma, you must be mistaken; where can all the flies come from, that we see on a warm sunny day in spring, if the flies die before the winter ? Do not you re- collect seeing hundreds, and hundreds appear THE HOUSE-FLY. 93 all of a sudden, just as if they had left their winter holes to enjoy the fine sunshine ?" " Yes, I have observed them in great numbers," replied his mother, " when, per- haps, a day or two before, scarcely one was to be seen, but these flies were not the flies of the last summer." *' Indeed ! then where did they come from ?" *' From the eggs that the old flies had laid in the autumn. When we observe them for the first time, they are enjoying a totally new kind of life, sporting in the air and sipping sweet juices, instead of living half- buried in manure in the form of a shapeless maggot." " Was a fly ever a maggot ?" exclaimed Arthur in astonishment. ** I know that a butterfly was once a caterpillar, but I thought a fly was always a fly. I have seen very little flies, mamma, and I thought they grew to be large ones." " No, they were flies of different kinds, and would not alter in size. The house-fly is generally very common near stable-yards, or coach-stands, because the eggs are laid 94 THE HOUSE-FLY. in manure by the parent fly, as affording the best food for the young maggot when it bursts from the egg-shell. The maggot has no legs, only two little hooks near the head, to assist it in moving, or in securing its position. ^^^^ When it is about to change into a chrysalis, which it does before winter, the skin shrivels, and it becomes stiff and motionless, but the parts within grow every day more and more like a fly ; at last in the warm days of spring the skin cracks, and the perfectly winged insect escapes from its confinement." *'I should never have thought that this delicate little fly with its fine gauze wings could once have been a maggot," exclaimed Arthur, as he examined the fly on his slate more minutely. ** Do all kinds of flies pass their young state in manure, mamma ?" ** No, some pass their early life in the seeds of plants, in leaves, mushrooms, and fruits ; others live in the bodies of caterpillars and different larvae, which they entirely des- troy ; some feed on cheese : those little mag- gots, Arthur, which are generally called THE HOUSE-FLY. 96 cheese-hoppers, turn to small flies ; other kinds inhabit muddy and marshy waters, and feed on rotten leaves. Some of these are particularly curious, being able to support themselves by the tail from the surface of the water, and to draw out their tails much in the same way as you would draw out the tubes of a telescope. The maggots of i other flies devour the flesh of dead ani- j mals, and in hot countries these are very useful, for, from their numbers, they are capable of consuming a car- case in a very short time, and thus they destroy offensive matter. Have you ever seen the feet of a fly, Arthur, through a magnifying-glass?" ** No, never, mamma; I have often looked at the prints of them in the " Atlas of Na- ture," and wished I could see, in the real fly, the little cushions by which it sticks to the glass ; and the tiny hooks which help it to cling in walking on the wall or ceiling, but I thought people could not see them ex- cept with grand microscopes." '* You, my dear, or any one else can see them if you wish to do so, with a two-shil- 96 THE HOUSE-FLY. ling magnifying-glass," replied Mrs. Camp- bell. "I will lend you my glass, Arthur, if you will be careful to return it to me." " Oh, thank you, mamma ; but how am I to hold the fly steady while I look at his feet?'' " You need not hold the fly ; take the mag- nifying-glass to the window, Arthur, and watch for a fly crawling on the outside, and then look at it through the pane with your glass." Arthur quickly followed his mother's di- rection, and to his great pleasure he soon saw the little fringed cushions or suckers, and the tiny hooks, and also the different movements of the proboscis, which amused him greatly. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. In the beginning of the year 1705, two ships were sent out from England to the South Seas to cruise against the Spaniards. These ships were the St. George, of twenty-six guns, commanded by Dampier, and the Cinque Ports, of sixteen guns, commanded by Stradling. *' To cruise against the Spaniards," means 6. F 98 ALEXANDER SELKIUK. to lake possession of their mercliant ships by force, and plunder their cargoes. As if the shedding of blood were not sufficiently horrible, nations, when at war, have hitherto been in the habit of behaving to one another like robbers. We must hope that they will, ere long, become just and humane enough to put an end to so disgusting a practice. On board of the Cinque Ports was a sailor, named Alexander Selkirk. Very early in the voyage the two captains quarrelled with each other ; and when they arrived at Juan Fernandez to take in fresh water, they were on the point of separating. Juan Fernandez is a small island, four leagues long, and scarcely two wide, of an irregular shape. It is situated about one hundred and ten leagues to the west of Chili, in 83° west longitude, and 33° south latitude. Although uninhabited, it is frequently visited by ships, on account of the good water to be found there, and the excellent harbours along the coast. The different ships that have touched at this island have left several kinds of animals, such as goats, cats and rats. When the two ships had taken in water ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 99 atid refreshed their crews at Juan Fernandez, they proceeded on their voyage. They soon came in sight of a Spanish ship, and, in order to take her, the two captains and the men forgot their quarrels for the time, and sailed in pursuit of her. The Spanish ship was attacked and taken. She proved to be a merchant vessel with a valuable cargo. This prize did not make the two captains better friends ; for they quarrel- led about the division of the spoil. In conse- quence of this dispute, Dampier refused to sail any longer in company with Stradling. He persevered in his cruize, while Stradling returned to Juan Fernandez. But the dispute was not confined to the captains, it spread among the crews also; and while the Cinque Ports was taking in wood and water, Alexander Selkirk had so violent a quarrel with Captain Stradling that he de- termined, in his passion, to quit the sl^ip altogether. Captain Stradling, on his side, was glad to get rid of a man whom he dis- liked, and readily complied with Selkirk's request, when he desired to be sent ashore with his box of clothes, his bedding, his gun f2 100 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. and some powder, — to which were added an axe, a hatchet, a kettle, and some books, and mathematical instruments. The ship remained three days in Juan Fernandez, after Selkirk's landing; and during this time Selkirk recovered from his anger, and felt sorry for what he had done. The solitude of the island alarmed him, and he earnestly begged that he might be allowed to go on board again. But Captain S trad- ling refused to forgive and take him back Upon no condition would he permit him again to be received into the ship, — he sailed away, leaving the repentant and miserable Selkirk by himself, on an uninhabited and uncultivated island. Bitterly did Selkirk lament his folly ! Tears poured down his cheeks as he watched the departure of the ship. Several times he felt tempted to fling himself into the sea, and swim after her. But he knew that such an attempt would he useless, and that, even if he should have the strength to reach her, the unforgiving Stradling would not take him on board. He was without hope of escape for the present ; and his only prospect of ever ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 101 leaving the island was the chance-arrival of some English ship. Although he knew that it was vain to think of getting away from the island, he at first could not persuade himself to leave the shore. He sat always watching the sea, in the hope of seeing some sail at a distance. As long as the day-light lasted, there he re- mained ; and so great was his melancholy, that he cared neither to eat nor to drink. But when night came on, his despair and grief were turned into terror. He could not, although a brave man, bear up against the feeling of alarm that came over him, when he found himself in darkness and solitude. He went to sleep striving to keep awake ; but at first his sleep was disturbed by dreams of what he feared when awake. By degrees his alarm became less and less, and when he had lived eight months upon the island, he ceased to be afraid of being alone, and even began to dread the arrival of other men. Fortunately there were no beasts of prey in the island, which abounded with goats, cats, rats, birds and seals. Of these animals the rats alone gave him any annoyance. 102 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. As he became used to his solitude, h^ gra* dually regained his appetite ; but it was long before he could relish the only food that the island afforded, because he had neither salt ^ nor bread to eat with it. His food consisted of goat's flesh, either boiled or made into broth; and sometimes he caught a large kind of cray-fish, about the size of a lobster, which, Vhen boiled, he found made him a very agreeable dinner or supper. In one of his rambles about the island, Sel- kirk found a large patch of turnips; and then he had the pleasure of adding, now and then, a boiled turnip to his meat. Most careful was he to save some of the seed ; and he sowed fresh patches of ground with it. There can be little doubt that the seed had origin- ally been sown by the crews of some of the ships that had in former days visited the island, by whom also had been left the ani- mals above mentioned. He had lived some time upon the island before he could take courage to build himself a house or hut. The shore was his resting place in the day time ; and he climbed a tree at night. But when he felt that he had nothing ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 103 to be afraid of, he determined to make himself as comfortable as he could in his loneliness. The island abounded with pimento-trees. These trees supplied him with wood for building, and wood for burning, either as fuel to cook his victuals, or torches to give him light. He also seasoned his meat with the fruit of the tree ; this fruit being the same as the Jamaica pepper which we use. In a sheltered spot in the wood he built himself two huts; and he covered them with a roof of long grass. Having dried the skins of the goats that he had killed, he lined the inside of the walls with their skins, and so made his dwelling secure from wind, rain, and great heat. He cooked and ate his food in the smaller hut, and put his hammock into the other, which he called his bed-room or sleeping-hut. Having made himself thus comfortable, he turned his attention to taming some of the wild cats. He soon brought a prodigious number of them to his door, by placing some goats' flesh for them regularly every day ; and by degrees he coaxed a few of them to remain with him altogether. He found 104 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. great comfort in the company of these cats, who became very fond of him. They fol- lowed him in his walks, sat with him at home, and even learned to dance, while he sang tunes to them. The tamed cats were useful, besides, in destroying and driving away the rats, that had annoyed him exceedingly. For not only had they stolen and spoiled his food and clothing, but, while he slept, they had actually tried to gnaw his feet. He also succeeded in taming some kids ; and the frolics and games of his cats and goats with one another, afforded him con- tinual amusement. With such playful friends he made himself a cheerful home, even in a wilderness. The whole of the western coast of America, at that time, belonged to the Spaniards ; and they had suffered much from the English cruizers, who had taken several of their most valuable ships, and burnt and plundered many of their towns. The Spaniards, in their turn, were in the practice of making prisoners of all the Englishmen that they met with ; either putting them to death, or, what was worse, sending them to work in the mines. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 105 Selkirk knew all this, and dreaded lest he should be found and taken by any of the Spaniards, who might happen to land on the shores of the island for water. One day a Spanish ship arrived in a harbour close to that part of the island in which he had fixed his dwelling ; and some of the sailors had landed before he was even aware of the ship's arrival. He was seen. Alarmed at his dan- ger, he fled into the woods for safety, hoping that his enemies would not be able to follow him. But he was fired at, and pursued also. Running at his utmost speed, he fortunately outstripped his pursuers, and got into the wood, and climbed a tree before the Spani- ards could overtake him. It so happened that the Spaniards stopped at the foot of the very tree in which poor Sel- kirk had taken shelter. He saw them load their guns, and then, after looking about as if in search of him, fire at the goats that were feeding near. Carrying off such of these animals as they had killed, they departed to their ship without discovering Selkirk, who, trembling with fear, was thankful to see them depart. All that night, and the greater f5 106 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. part of the next day he remained in the tree, and when he did venture to leave it, being forced by hunger and thirst to do so, he erept cautiously to his dwelling-place in the wood, and was rejoiced to find that his hut had not been discovered, and therefore had not been visited by his late enemies. When he at length ventured to walk towards the shore, the ship had sailed, and he had the satisfaction to feel himself once more alone. As long as his gunpowder lasted, he did not want for food or fire; but his situation' was very different, when he had used all the powder : then the procuring of his fire and food began really to be a hardship. If his fire went out, he was obliged to rub together upon his knee two pieces of pimento wood till they lighted. The labour of this was great, but nothing in comparison with that of catching the goats. His endeavour was to run as quickly as they did, for he was obliged to pursue them on foot. By perse- verance he conquered his difficulties, and in a short time was so swift a runner, that he more than equalled the goats in speed, whether he ran up rocks and hillsy or through the woods. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 107 There was much danger in this mode of chace. One day, while pursuing a goat, he followed it with so much eagerness that he took no heed where he was going. After a hard chace, he caught hold of the goat just as it reached the edge of a steep precipice^ This precipice was hid by bushes, so that he did not perceive it. The goat in its strug- gles to get loose slipped, and, as Selkirk kept his hold, in its fall drew him down the pre- cipice. Selkirk was stunned by his fall. He lay twenty-four hours on the ground, unable to move ; and when his senses returned to him, he found the goat lying dead under him, and himself so much bruised with the fall, that, at first, he had no hope of recovering. Little by little, he crawled to his hut, which was a mile from the place where he had met with this sad accident. His suffer- ings were great ; and his braises confined him to his hut for ten days, during which time he was obliged to lie quite still. This accident made him more cautious, ever afterwards, in chasing the goats. The clothes that he had with him when 108 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. first left upon the island, were soon worn out. His shoes, also, became unfit to pre- serve his feet from the hard stones; and with all his endeavours, he could not make himself any new covering for the feet. At first his feet bled and were blistered by go- ing without shoes ; but, after a time, constant use made his feet so hard that he could run any where without difficulty or inconveni- ence. He could climb rocks and trees, run upon the stony beach and upon the soft long grass equally well. Although he found he could manage without shoes, it was not so with his body clothing. As his dress wore out he prepared some goats' skins, for the purpose of making new clothes. With his knife he cut the skins into the proper shapes, and then cut- ting some narrow strips or thongs, with these he sewed the different pieces together. A nail served him for a needle. He pierced holes in the skins, and drew the thongs through. In this rude way he contrived to make himself a jacket and trowsers, and a cap, all of goats' skins, and tolerably com- fortable. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 109 Looking over the stores of his sea-chest, he found some pieces of linen ; and, with the help of his needle, the nail, he deter- mined to make himself a new shirt. He could not sew the seams together with thongs of skin. What then could he do ? After considering, he thought he could make use of his old worsted stockings. With some trouble, he contrived to draw out the worsted threads, and then made these serve him instead of linen threads to sew his shirts. His clothes being finished, he employed himself in mending his tools, and making new ones. His knife, so valuable to him for the many important services which it performed, had become worn away to the back. He was very anxious to make a new one, if possible, and he was at length able to do so, in the following manner. There was an old cask which had held the stores that were landed for his use, when he resolved to quit the ship. Off this cask he stripped some of the iron hoops, which he heated ; and, while they were hot, he beat them thin with a hammer. He then both shaped and gave them an edge, by grinding 110 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. them upon stones. In this manner he made several blades. When the blade was made, there was no great difficulty in fixing it to a handle. Selkirk kept an account of the number of goats that he caught, during his stay upon the island. Besides those which he tamed and made his companions, he caught and killed five hundred for food. He also caught as many more for amusement ; these he allowed to run away again, after he had marked them, by slitting one of their ears. It is curious that several of these goats thus marked were alive more than thirty years afterwards, and were seen by Commodore Anson, when he stayed some time at the island, for the purpose of recovering his sick crew. Anson mentions that several of these goats were presented to him by some of his crew, who employed themselves in hunting, during their stay upon the island. Selkirk lived four years and four months in the way that has been described, and had become almost reconciled to his lonely life. He still wished to return to his native country, and to his home and friends, if he ALEXANDER SELKIRK. ill could meet with an opportuuity of doing so ; but this wish did not destroy his happiness. One day he descried two ships at some dis- tance. He felt sure from their appearance, that they were English vessels. The hope of being able to leave the island came over him with such force, that he immediately lighted a large fire as a signal ; and ere long he had the pleasure of seeing a boat put off and row towards the shore. As the boat neared the island, Selkirk saw it was En- glish • but the boats' crew advanced cau- tiously after landing, lest the signal should have been made by an enemy, and there might be danger to the ships. The astonishment of the sailors was ex-^ treme, when, as they approached near to the place of the fire, they saw the odd figure of a man advance, clad in goats' skins, and calling to them in a language which they could not doubt to be English, although spoken in such a way that they could not make out the words. Selkirk soon made the boat's crew under- stand that there was nothing for them to be afraid of, that he was the only person living 112 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. upon the island, and had been so for more than four years ; and that, thinking the two ships in sight were English, he had lighted the fire to attract their notice, in order that they might deliver him from his solitude. The sailors invited Selkirk to dine with them on the beach ; and were surprised that he would neither eat their salted provisions nor drink their brandy and rum. He had drunk nothing but water during his stay upon the island, and he could not bear the fiery-tasted liquors that the sailors offered him. He had so much forgotten the pro- nunciation of his native language, that he could scarcely make himself understood. When dinner was over, Selkirk, in his turn, invited the sailors to his hut, but the way being intricate and rugged, only a few of them had the curiosity to visit him. He returned with his visitors to the beach, and then accepted the offer of the boat's crew to take him with them to the ships. These vessels were called the " Duke " and ** Duchess," and were commanded by Cap- tains Woodes Rogers, and Captain Cour- tenay, who, when they had heard from the ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 113 boat's crew that there was no enemy on the island, ordered the ships to be brought to an anchor. It was a curious circumstance, that on board the Duke, Selkirk met with one of his former companions. This was no other than Dampier, who, as soon as he heard the name of Selkirk, at once recognized him as one of the crew of the Cinque Ports, and gave him so good a character to Captain Rogers, that the captain offered him employ- ment on board his own ship. While the ships remained at the island, Selkirk was very useful in assisting to supply them with fresh provisions, and with wood and water. On one occasion, he amused his new companions, by calling his cats and goats around him and making them dance, while he sang to them one of the dances which had so often amused him in his solitude. Of course he was asked many questions as to his manner of living. The sailors would hardly believe him when he told them that he could, on foot, pursue and overtake the goats. Selkirk at once offered to prove the truth of what he said, and catch a goat 114 ALEXANDER SELKIRK. for the use of the ship's company. This was agreed to. Some of the sailors who reckoned themselves capital runners offered to run with him. There was a bull-dog on board of one of the ships, and Selkirk proposed that it should also be brought to join in the race. Accordingly, the whole party set off; but Selkirk soon tired both men and dog, and left them at a great distance. He re- turned to them shortly afterwards, bringing on his shoulders a live goat that he had caught. Captain Rogers gave Selkirk shoes and stockings, and other clothes. His feet had been so long without shoes and stockings, that the wearing of them again caused him much pain and uneasiness ; and it was some time before he could accustom his feet to bear them. Selkirk was thirty years of age when first left upon the island, and therefore thirty- four when he quitted it. After a protracted voyage he arrived in London ; and then the , recollections of his peaceful quiet life on the island came strong upon him. The bustle of the streets distracted him, and he walked ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 115 along them at a great rate, and sometimes even ran, quite unaware of the crowd that stopped wondering at him. In the streets of London, he forgot how much he had often suffered froni solitude, and he thought only of the pleasures which he had left behind him. Among his other comforts on the is- land was that of good health ; for owing to his temperate manner of living and the ex- ercise that he was obliged to take, in pro- curing his food, he never had any illness during his stay there. The account of Selkirk's adventures first made that excellent author, Defoe, think of writing his delightful and instructive life of Robinson Crusoe, a book which doubtless has been read by most of our readers, with ne^er-failing pleasure, over and over again. 116 A CANARY S LAMENTATION ON A FINK SPRING MORNING. Now spring" returns, — the sky re bright, The earth is decked with flowers, And joyful birds their mates invite To build among the bowers. But all in vain to me, the spring ! If urged by idle rage, I can but beat my useless wing Against my wiry cage. Happy the warblers, brown or grey, Who with less beauty shine. Whom no fierce hand shall bear away And, hardly, thus confine ! A canary's lamentation. 117 Had not my beauty charmed the eye, I might as freely now Have hung my twisted nest on high, And cradled on the bough ! My lady's constant care supplies Daily my wholesome food, Yet while she liberty denies, I scarce can call her good. But, did she grant my wish to roam, I should not dare to fly ; In this cold land, without a home, I soon should starve and die ! 118 TARQUIINIUS SUPERBUS, The seventh and last king of Rome was Tarquinius the Second, who began his reign in the two hundred and twentieth year from the building of the city. He succeeded to the throne through a crime — the murder of his father-in-law ; and his subsequent conduct was what might have been expected from such a beginning. His haughty be- haviour early obtained for him the surname of Superhus, or proud. He refused to al- low either the senate or the people to share in his authority. He acted as if a king or chief of the state had no occasion to trouble himself about what might be for the good of the people ; making use of his power for the purpose of mere selfish gratification to TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 119 the injury of those who, by their submission, had conferred that power upon him. But why, it may be asked, did not the people, when they saw how he abused the power with which he was entrusted, imme- diately refuse to obey him, and so reduce him again to the state of a private citizen, or even punish him severely for his outra- geous conduct ? They were deterred from doing this for two reasons. First, Tarquin, knowing that he could not rely upon the affections of the people, took care to surround himself with a large force of hired soldiers, mostly strangers, who were willing, for pay, to assist him in any act of villany that he might meditate. Secondly, The people of all countries are, mostly, so much occupied with their own private concerns, as to have little leisure or inclination to interfere with their rulers. The people of a country, it must be remem- bered, are farmers, millers, bakers, brick- layers, carpenters, and labourers of every description ; and it is only when their suffer- ings are so severe and unceasing, as to be no longer endurable, that they consent to ne- 120 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. gleet for a time their usual employments, and unite to put a stop, if possible, to the cruel treatment of their rulers. Thus it was with the people of Rome. As Tarquin aimed at unlimited power, every family or individual that enjoyed dis- tinction, either for judgment, courage, or property, became an object of jealousy. Some he deprived of their property, some he banished from the city, and others he murdered. The family of Junius, among others, suffered dreadfully from his perse- cutions. The father and his elder son were assassinated, and the younger son was al- lowed to escape, only because he was thought to be an idiot. Many of the senators quitted the city in order to be out of the way of his cruelty and avarice. When Tarquin had, by his conduct, made himself universally hated, he began to fear lest the very people whom he oppressed should, at last, of one accord, turn against himself, and endeavour to deprive him of his power. To secure himself against any such attempt, he did not pursue the wisest TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 121 course — he did not make any alteration in his conduct — he did not strive to gain the affections of those whom he governed : no — his endeavour was still further to strengthen himself, by an alliance with foreigners, so that he might persevere in the work of op- pression. For this purpose he married his daughter to Octavius Mamilius, a man of bravery and experience in war, and of great influence among the Latins. Mamilius pro- cured his father-in-law many friends among the chief persons of Latium ; but Tarquin was near losing them again by his haughty behaviour. He had desired the Latins to call a na- tional council at Ferentinum, where he was to meet them on a day appointed by himself. The Latin deputies came and took their places, in the sacred grove of the temple of Flora. There they waited several hours, but Tarquin did not appear. The assembly grew impatient, and Turnus Herdonius, an enterprising, eloquent man, who hated Tar- quin and was jealous of Mamilius, laid hold of this occasion to inveigh against the king. 6. G 122 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. "I am not at all surprised/' said he, " that Rome has given Tarquin the surname of Proud. What can be a greater instance of pride than thus to trifle with the whole Latin nation ; to summon hither the Latin chiefs to meet him, and not to appear him- self? Doubtless he means to put our pa- tience to the test, and to judge, by our man- ner of bearing his insults, how far he may oppress us, when he has brought us under his yoke. If my advice may have any weight with you, let us return home, and take no more notice of the assembly-day than he who appointed it." But Mamilius rose up and excused his father-in-law, attributing his absence to some unforeseen and urgent business, which hin- dered his coming ; and he prevailed to have the council adjourned to the next day. Then Tarquin appeared ; and being put in mind, by those who were near him, to make some excuse to the Latins for having disappointed them the day before : " I was engaged,'' said h&, very coldly, *' in making up a difference between a father and his son." TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 123 *' Of all differences," briskly answered Herdonius, " there is none requires so little time and so few words to compose it." This beginning did not please Tarquin, but he concealed his resentment, and pro- ceeded to tell the assembly, that his design in calling them together was to claim the right of commanding the Latin armies, — a right which he derived, by inheritance^ from his grandfather ; but which he desired might be confirmed to him by them. These words were scarce ended, when Herdonius, step- ping forward into the midst of the assembly, with great warmth renewed his invectives against the king, and opposed his demand. " What !" said he, *' does Tarquin the Proud pretend to an hereditary right to go- vern us ? Need there any stronger proof, than such a claim, of the injustice and wickedness of him who makes it ? Was it then a condition in the treaties we made with his grandfather, that we should be sub- ject to his posterity? Was this the meaning of the voluntary and temporary concession we made to him ? Tarquin employs the same pretence of hereditary right against us, g2 124 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS, which he has improved to the ruin of Rome. Latins 1 if you hearken to him, your slavery is as certain as that of the Romans. And will it be less severe ? His own subjects have been, some of them murdered by him, others banished their country, others stripped of their estates. The very best among the Romans have been thus treated ; and all, in general, are deprived of liberty. Will strangers find Tarquin a less cruel and less covetous master? Judge of the fate you are to expect, by that of Rome." Tarquin was much annoyed by the bold- ness of Herdonius, and desired that the assembly might sit again the following day, when he promised to give a satisfactory an- swer. In the mean time, he bribed some of Herdonius's servants to hide a great quan- tity of arms in their master's baggage. The next morning, entering the assembly with an air of confidence, he told them that one word was sufficient to destroy all the calum- nies of Herdonius. " In reality," he added, *' my accuser has himself acquitted me. Were I such a per- son as he represents me, would he have tArquinius superbus. 125 sought an alliance with me ? He earnest!}^ solicited me to give him my daughter in marriage ; but, for good reasons, I refused to accept him for a son-in-law, and here is the source of his malice. But this is no time to enter further into my justification. Your own interests, your own safety, your liberties, and lives demand, at present, all your attention." He then accused Herdonius of having laid a plot to cut off all the deputies there present, and to make himself ruler over all the Latin cities. As a proof of this, he in- formed them of the arms in Herdonius 's baggage. An accusation of such importance threw all the assembly into a fright, except the accused, who, knowing nothing of those arms, and believing that his innocence would quickly appear, desired that his baggage might be searched. Accordingly, an ex- amination was made, and the arms being found and brought into the assembly, it put the deputies into such a rage, that, without suffering Herdonius to make his defence, they immediately sentenced him to be thrown into a basin at the head of the spring of Fe- 126 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. rentinum; where a hurdle being laid upon him, and stones heaped upon the hurdle, he was pressed down into the water and drowned. But the death of an enemy was not the only advantage Tarquin drew from his treachery ; the Latins looked upon him as a deliverer, renewed the treaty made with his grandfather, and declared the king of Rome general of the Latin armies. Thus strengthened, by his alliance with the Latins, he engaged in several wars with his other neighbours, in all of which he proved victorious. Upon his return to Rome, he set the people to work to finish the common sewers, and the great circus which had been begun by his grandfather. Even these useful works he made a source of annoyance to the people. The workmen employed were not voluntary labourers — they were torn from their customary business to assist in these works, however great the pain might be to them in changing sud- denly from one employment to another of a totally different kind — they were compelled to work by force, not persuaded by wages, TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 127 or some other reward beneficial to themselves and their families. In the meanwhile, a great number of dis- contented citizens had fled from Rome and taken refuge at Gahii, a city of Latium, about one hundred furlongs from Rome, on the road to Prceneste, and the inhabitants being touched with compassion to see so many persons without a home, resolved to take a part in the quarrel, and begin a war with the king of Rome. Tarquin was in- formed of their preparations to take the field, and, suspecting against whom they were designed, raised a prodigious bulwark (much boasted of in after ages), to cover the city on the side of Gabii. This war, between the Romans and the Gahini, lasted seven years, with various success ; and the inroads and devastations made on both sides, being a hindrance to all sowing and reaping, pro- duced, at length, a scarcity of corn. It was chiefly felt at Rome, where complaints were made by the people that they suff*ered not by any hatred of their neighbours to them, but to the king ; and they demanded either a peace or provisions. Tarquin being much 128 TARQUINIUS SUPERI3US. perplexed with the people's clamours, which tended to a general revolt, his son, Sextus Tarquinius proposed, and, in concert with him, put in practice a very artful expedient for reducing Gabii. He pretended to be upon very ill terms with his father, and openly complained of him as a tyrant, who had no compassion even for his own children ; upon which the king caused him to be beaten publicly in the forum, as a rebel. The dis- content of the son and the barbarity of the father were soon reported at Gabii, to which city Sextus shortly afterwards fled, and was gladly received by the inhabitants. After his arrival at Gabii, his whole talk, both in public and private, turned upon the tyranny of the king of Rome ; and he suited his actions to his discourse. No enemy of Rome was more active and enterprising. He frequently made inroads on the Roman lands, and came back loaded with spoil ; his father contriving to gain him honour, by always sending against him weak parties, which he could not fail to vanquish. By this means, Sextus came to such a high de- gree of credit among the Gabini, that he TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 129 was ciiosen general of their army, and was as much master in Gabii, as Tarquin was in Rome. And now, finding his authority sufiiciently established, he sent a slave to his father, to inquire what he should do. The king would not send an answer either in writing or by word of mouth, fearing lest by any accident his intentions should be dis- covered by the Gabini. He took the slave into a garden, and then striking off the heads of all the tallest poppies, sent him back to Gabii. Sextus understood the hint. He assembled the Gabini, and pretended to have discovered a plot to deliver him up to his father. The people, in a rage, pressed him to make known the conspirators, and with much diflSculty, he suffered them, as it were, to extort from him the name of A?itis- tius Petro, a man whose merit had made him the most considerable person in his country. Antistius despised the accusation, but Sextus had bribed his servants (in the same manner as Tarquin had formerly done those of Herdonius), to convey among his papers some letters from the king of Rome, which being produced and read, the popu- G 5 130 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. lace, without further examination, imme- diately stoned him ; and to Sextus was committed the care of discovering his ac- complices, and appointing their punishments. Upon this, he ordered the gates of the city to be shut, and sent officers into every quarter of it, to cut off the heads of all the eminent men : and, in the midst of the desolation and confusion caused by this dreadful massacre, he opened the gates to his father, to whom he had given timely notice of his design. Tarquin was satisfied with gaining possession of the city. He spared the lives of the citi- zens, and even entered into a treaty with them. This treaty was written on a shield made of the hide of an ox sacrificed on that occasion, and was yet to be seen at Home, in the time of Augustus y in the temple of Jupiter Fidius. Thus far in the account which has been left to us ofTarquin's reign, there is nothing which it is utterly impossible to believe, al- though some parts may appear somewhat improbable. We now come to a part of the narrative which not only makes us feel as- tonishment at the superstition of those who TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 131 could write it with seriousness, but actually throws a doubt upon all those parts of the narrative, which, otherwise, might be sup- posed to be true. While Tarquin, it is said, was reposing in security, at Rome, having crushed his ene- mies and terrified the Romans into sub- mission, an unknown woman made her ap- pearance at his court, loaded with nine volumes, which she offered to sell to him, but at a very considerable price. Tarquin refusing to give what she asked, she went away and burnt three of the nine. Some time afterwards, she returned to court, and demanded the same price for the remaining six. " The woman must be mad," said he, and he drove her away with scorn. Upon this, she burnt the half of what were left, and then came a third time, and demanded for the remaining three the same price which she had asked for the whole nine. Tarquin now became curious to have the books ex- amined ; and, accordingly, they were put into the hands of the augurs, who, finding them to be the oracles of the Sybil of Cum^B, declared them to be a most valuable treasure. 132 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. The price which was asked by the woman was, therefore, paid to her, and she soon afterwards disappeared, having first ex- horted the Romans to preserve her books with care. The next most important event of this reign was a dreadful plague which destroyed great numbers of the citizens of Rome. When a plague or any dangerous illness attacks an enlightened and prudent people, they endeavour to check it by medicine, by an alteration in their diet, or by greater attention to cleanliness and change of air. Tarquin's method of proceeding was very different. He resolved to send his sons, Titus and Aruns, to consult the oracle of Delphi upon the cause and cure of the con- tagion. We may suppose that he was too much frightened to rely wholly upon the Sybilline books, for which he paid so dearly. This is the first time in the history of Rome, that mention is made of any inter- course between Rome and Greece. Titus and Aruns prepared magnificent presents for Apollo ; and Lucius Junius, (the counterfeit idiot,) who was to attend TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 133 them for their amusement during the jour- ney, resolved to carry his offering too. The present he chose for the gods was an elder- stick, and this was matter of diversion to the whole court. However, as he knew that the gods, or rather the priests, were much influ- enced by valuable offerings, he had the pre- caution to inclose, unknown to any body, a rod of gold in his stick. It is supposed that the oracle told them, among other things, that there would quickly be a new reign at Rome ; for, when they had performed their father's commission, they inquired which of them would succeed Tarquin ; and the god declared that the government of Rome would devolve upon him wlio should first give a kiss to his mother. The writers of this historical fable tell us that the two brothers, when they had heard this oracle, either drew lots which of them at their return to Rome should first kiss his mother Tullia, or agreed to do it both together, that they might reign jointly ; but that Brutus, imagining the oracle to have another meaning, pretended to fall down by chance, and kissed the earth, the common mother of all living. 134 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. Upon their return to Rome, they found the city in a commotion, on account of the war in which the king was engaged with the Rutuli, In hopes of obtaining money by plunder to supply his extravagance, he had marched his army to Ardea, their capital, about twenty miles from Rome, thinking to take it without opposition. But finding him- self, contrary to his expectation, obliged to besiege it in form, he was under the necessity of laying a heavy tax upon the people. This tax greatly increased the number of the dis- contented, and disposed them to revolt. The siege being carried on very slowly, the ofiBcers had a good deal of leisure for amuse- ment. One day when Sextus Tarquinius was entertaining his brothers, their relative Collatinus being of the party, their conversa- tion happened to turn upon the merit of wives. Every one extolled the good qualities of his own ; but Collatinus affirmed that his Lucretia excelled all others. To settle their dispute, they determined at once to mount their horses, and go and surprise their wives ; and it waS agreed that she whom they found employed in the manner most becoming her TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 135 sex, should have the preference. Away, therefore, they galloped to Rome, where they surprised the daughters-in-law of the king all together in the midst of feasting and diversions ; and the ladies seemed much dis- concerted by the unexpected return of their husbands. From Rome they hasted away to Collatia, the place where Collatinus re- sided. Though the night was far advanced when they arrived there, they found Lucretia up, with her maids about her, spinning and working in wool. The company her husband brought her of a sudden, did not discompose her ; and they were all pleased with the re- ception she gave them. Sextus, in particular, was so much de- lighted with his first visit, that he soon found a pretence for paying a second to Collatia. Lucretia, in her husband's absence, enter- tained him with great civility and respect ; and his return for this hospitality was to bring disgrace upon her and her family. Sextus made his appearance in the camp again early the next morning. Lucretia's happiness was gone. She could no longer endure the thought of life. She 136 taHquinius superbus. dressed herself in mourning, took a dagger under her robe, wrote to her husband at the camp, to meet her at her father Lucretius's house, and then mounting her chariot, came to Rome. People were surprised to see her wearing all the marks of the deepest sorrow, and often asked her, as she passed along^ what was the cause of her grief. She an- swered them only by weeping, and when the same question was put to her at her father's house, she still refused to discover the mat- ter, till there should be a full assembly of her friends and relations, who she desired might be called together. When the persons summoned were arrived, she addressed her- self to her husband Collatinus, disclosed, in few words, the whole secret, and the treach- erous author of their dishonour ; and con- jured them not to let the crime of Sextus Tarquinius go unpunished. All who were present gave her, one by one, their solemn promise to revenge the insult she had suf- fered ; they also endeavoured to console her. But nothing could divert her from the reso- lution she had taken. " No," said she, " no woman shall hereafter survive her honour, TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 137 and say, Lucretia was her example ;" and then having embraced her father and her husband, as one that bids a last farewell, she plunged the concealed dagger into her breast» Her father and husband, starting, cried out as she fell at their feet. A mixture of com- passion and indignation seized the whole assembly ; and they were excited by Lu- cretia's blood to resist the oppressor to whom they had so long submitted. Among those assembled on this occasion was Lucius Junius, who on account of his supposed idiotcy, had obtained the surname of Brutus. He chose this opportunity to throw off the mask of stupidity ; for, going near to the dying lady, he drew the dagger from her breast, and showing it all bloody to the assembly, *' Yes," said he, *' I swear by this blood, which was so pure, and which nothing but royal villany could have pol- luted, that I will pursue Lucius Tarquinius the Proud, his wicked wife and their children with lire and sword, nor will ever suffer any of that family, or of any other whatsoever, to be king in Rome : Ye gods ! I call you to witness this my oath !" — This said, he pre- J38 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. sented the dagger to Collatinus, Lucretius, Valerius, and the rest of the company, and engaged them to take the same oath. These noble Romans, struck with amazement at the prodigious appearance of wisdom in an idiot, looked on him as inspired, and submitted entirely to his guidance. He then let them know that his folly had been only feigned ; he exhorted them to defer lamenting the death of Lucretia to another time ; to behave them- selves now like men and Romans, and think only of revenging it; and he advised them to begin by shutting the gates of Kome, and placing trusty guards to secure them, that nobody might go out of the city to give notice at the camp of what was doing. This council being approved, was put in execu- tion without difficulty, for Lucretius had been left governor of the city by Tarquin. Then Brutus, causing the yet bleeding Lucretia to be carried to the forum ; and placing the corpse where it might be seen by every body, ordered the people to be called together. When the multitude were assembled, the imagined idiot, to their great surprise, addressing himself to them, TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 139 explained all the mystery of his past conduct, and the necessity he had been under, for more than twenty years together, of counter- feiting folly, as the only means to preserve his life after the murder of his father and elder brother, He then proceeded to tell them the resolution the friends and relations of Lucretia had come to of deposing the tyrant, and pressed them in the strongest manner to concur in that design. He re- minded them of the crimes by which Tar- quin, in concert with the wicked Tullia, had made his way to the throne ; of Aruns Tar- quinius, (the tyrant's brother,) and the elder Tullia, both persons of amiable dispositions, and both treacherously poisoned, — he by his wife the present queen, — she by her husband the present king ; and of Servius Tullius, the justest, the mildest, the most beneficent of kings, openly assassinated, and the cruel Tullia riding in triumph over the body of her expiring father: "O execrable fact!" he exclaimed : '^ Ye gods, the avengers of in- jured parents, ye beheld it. But why should I dwell on these crimes committed by the tyrant against his own family ? The wrongs 140 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS* he lias done his Country, his cruelties to every one of you are insufferable, and with- out end. With what an utter contempt of all our laws did he usurp the throne ! And how has he maintained himself in his illegal power ? by murders, by banishments, by the oppression of all the people. And are these miseries, these indignities never to have an end ? Or, if you even propose to assert your freedom, how long will you delay it ? You wait, perhaps, for Tarquin's death. But what benefit would accrue to you from that ? He has three sons more wicked, if possible, than himself. By what the eldest of them has just now done, you may judge what is to be expected from such a race. There, Ro- mans ! turn your eyes to that sad spectacle^ the daughter of Lucretius — the wife of Col* latinus; — she died by her own hand. Lu- cretia would not survive the insult offered to her by Sextus, her perfidious guest. Glorious woman ! once only treated as a slave, she thought life no longer to be endured. Lu- cretia, a woman, disdained a life that de- pended on a tyrant's will ; and shall we, shall men, with such an example before our eyes, TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 141 and after five-and-twenty years of igno- minious servitude, — shall we, through a fear of dying, defer one single instant to assert our liberty?" Brutus's harangue was often interrupted by the acclamations of the people. Some wept at the remembrance of past sufferings ; others out of joy, at the hopes of a more happy government ; and every one called out for arms. Tullia, now seeing that all was lost, and fearing that she would no longer be safe in Rome, left it to go to her husband. She was hooted at by the people as she passed through the city, but no violence was offered to her. Tarquin, on his side, when he was informed by some who had got out of Rome before the gates wer3 shut, that Brutus was raising commotions to his prejudice, came in all haste to the city, attended only by his sons and a few friends. But finding the gates shut, the people in arms upon the walls, and that Lucretius refused him entrance, he re- turned with equal expedition to the camp. There, to his great mortification, he found 142 TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. that the conspirators had, during his short absence, gained over the army. Not doubt- ing but Tarquin would, upon the first notice of the revolt, hasten to the city, they had sent letters to the camp, giving an account of the resolutions taken at Rome, and ex- horting the troops to shake off the tyrant's yoke. These letters Titus HerininiuSj and Marcus Horatius had read in a full assem- bly of the soldiers, and the matter being put to the vote, it was unanimously agreed to ad- here to the decree passed in the city ; so that Tarquin being both driven from his capital, and rejected by the troops, was forced, at the age of seventy-six, to seek refuge, with his wife and three sons, among strangers. Tarquin stirred up many wars against the Romans, in the hopes of regaining his lost power, — but in vain ; for as he was hated most cordially, so he was resisted most strenuously. He lived to the advanced age of ninety years, the fourteen last of which were passed in exile and disgrace, a just punishment for one who, having been invested with power, which ought to have been employed for the TARQUINIUS SUPERBUS. 143 happiness and advantage of his fellow-crea- tures, used it only for the purposes of op- pression. Owing to his misdeeds, the very name of ** king" was ever afterwards held in detes- tation at Rome ; the form of the government was changed ; and the supreme power was lodged with two officers, called Consuls, who, instead of being elected, as the kings had been, for life, were chosen for one year only, and then were re-elected, or others chosen in their place, according to the plea- sure of the people. It was in the two hundred and forty- fourth year from the building of the city, that Rome ceased to be governed by kings. 144 THE CATERPILLAR AND BUTTERFLY. When first their leaves of tender green The budding trees display, The caterpillar tribe is seen, Like them in green array : Crawling on their little feet, All day long they bask and eat ! Come again : their meal is done ! They've gained their proper size ; And each a slender web has spun, In which he sleeping lies. Feeling neither joy nor pain : Will he ever move again ? Come once more : the web is torn. The sleeper soars on high ! Through air on downy wings upborne, Behold the butterfly ! He does not make the leaves his prey. But gaily flutters all the day. CAPTAIN COOK. James Cook was born in the village of Marton, in Yorkshire, in the year 172S. His parents were industrious labourers. At thir- teen he left his father's home to be appren- ticed to a haberdasher at Whitby, a sea- port town in Yorkshire. He disliked the trade, however, so much, that his master al- lowed him to quit his service, and to bind himself to the master of a collier. He began by spending his time very dif- ferently to his companions ; while some were sauntering, smoking, or drinking, in their hours of leisure, he was reading every useful book that he could procure, studying the science of navigation, and making draw- ings of the dangerous parts of the coast. During the years that Cook remained a common sailor on board the coasting ves- sels engaged in the coal- trade, he continued H 2 148 CAPTAIN COOK. these occupations, which fitted him for the important situation he afterwards filled. In the year 1755, when Cook was twenty- six years of age, he became a sailor on board the Eagle, a vessel of war. He carried with him a letter of recommendation to the com- mander, Captain Palliser, written by a gen- tleman at Scarborough, at the earnest re- quest of several of Cook's neighbours, who were anxious to show their respect for his character, and to promote his interest. Captain Palliser soon perceived Cook's diligent active habits, and felt desirous to reward them. Only four years after he had entered the navy, he was appointed master of the Mercury. At this time we were at war with the French in Canada, and a fleet had been sent out under the command of Sir Charles Saun- ders to assist General Wolfe in besieging Quebec. The Mercury joined the fleet soon after Cook's appointment. During the siege, a difficult and dangerous service was to be performed. This was to take the soundings or difl(erent depths of the river St. Lawrence, in order that our fleet might approach di- CAPTAIN COOK. 149 rectly in front of the enemy's batteries, while Wolfe attacked the camp. Captain Palliser recommended Cook as a man whose resolu- tion and abilities were to be relied on, and in this arduous employment he was accord- ingly engaged for several nights. At length he was discovered by the French, who col- lected a great number of Indians and their canoes in a wood near the water side. The canoes were launched in the night for the purpose of taking him prisoner. This they nearly effected, for some of the Indians ac- tually entered at the stern of the boat as Cook leaped out at the bow. He furnished Admiral Saunders with a correct map of the soundings, in spite of every impediment. He also made a chart of the river St. Law- rence, the navigation of which is very diffi- cult. The winter after the siege of Quebec, Cook was stationed a Halifax, where he studied astronomy and mathematics. From this period until 1767 he was engaged in making surveys of the coast of North Ame- rica, its harbours and rivers. While Cook was in America he communi- 150 CAPTAIN COOK. cated to the Royal Society an account of a solar eclipse that was visible there. The account displayed so much accuracy of ob- servation and astronomical skill, that it ex- cited the notice of many learned men, some of whom became intimate and affectionate friends of Cook. In 176S it was determined by the govern- ment to send out astronomers to some part of the South Seas, to observe the transit of the planet Venus. By calculations con- nected with accurate observations of a tran- sit, astronomers can ascertain the distance of the sun from the earth. It is of importance, therefore, that these observations should be made by careful and experienced astrono- mers. Another object of the expedition, was to discover unknown lands. It had been ima- gined by many voyagers that a large con- tinent lay towards the South Pole, sur- rounded by fields of ice. Some writers, in- deed, gravely asserted that this continent was equal in extent to the whole of Asia, from Turkey to China, that it stretched from CAPTAIN COOK. 151 thirty degrees south latitude to the South Pole, and that, moreover, the number of its inhabitants amounted to more than fifty mil- lions. At a certain time of the year, when the large masses of ice break up, it was con- sidered that a voyage might be safely at- tempted to ascertain the supposed fact. Cook was chosen to command the expe- dition. He was promoted to the rank of lieutenant, and appointed to a ship called the Endeavour. Mr. Joseph Banks, a gentleman of wealth, and of great zeal as a naturalist. Dr. Solander, a Swedish naturalist, and se- veral other gentlemen, accompanied him. The Endeavour sailed from England 26th of August, 1768, and on the 15th of January following, entered the straits of Le Maire, a small channel between Staten island and the desolate country of Terra Del Fuego, which is separated from the continent of South America, by the Straits of Magellan. All former charts of the southern coast of Terra Del Fuego were exceedingly incorrect, and the doubling Cape Horn was considered so dangerous that the Straits of Magellan 152 CAPTAIN COOK. were generally preferred. An accurate sur- vey was therefore taken by the captain and several of the officers. The Straits of Magellan are so full of con- trary currents, and with particular winds so difficult to sail through in safety, that ships have been detained there three months. Captain Cook doubled the cape in thirty- three days, and by his excellent charts has enabled other voyagers to do the same in a still shorter time. The Endeavour, proceeding westward, soon sailed among the numerous groups of islands of the South Pacific Ocean. On the loth of April, Cook arrived at Otaheite, an island that had been discovered by Captain Wallis, a few years before. The 2d of June, the day of the transit, proved remarkably clear, and the observa- tion was made to the satisfaction of Lieu- tenant Cook and the rest of the gentlemen. An Otaheitan of rank, named Tupia, and his son Tayeto, accompanied Cook when he left Otaheite. Tupia was of considerable utility in communicating with the natives of the South Seas, most of whom speak a CAPTAIN COOK. 153 language very similar in many respects. He also described the situation of many islands which had not hitherto been visited by Europeans. To several islands in the neigh- bourhood of Otaheite, including that island, Cook gave the name of Society Islands. From thence he sailed to the southward, and after some days land appeared in sight. All hoped and believed that they were approach- ing the " Unknown Southern Continent," respecting the existence of which authors had disputed for more than two hundred years. The land proved, however, to be the eastern coast of New Zealand, the op- posite coast of which had been discovered a hundred and twenty-six years before, by a Dutchman named Tasman. — Tasman had entered the straits between the two islands, imagining it to be a deep bay of an unknown continent, but his men having been attacked by the natives, and several of them killed, he left the shores unexplored. From that time until the voyage of the Endeavour, the whole of this country, excepting that part of the shore which had been seen from Tas- man's ship, remained unknown, and was H 5 154 CAPTAIN COOK. ~^ generally supposed to be an extensive south- ern continent. Cook sailed round New Zea- land and through the straits that divide the two parts of it. He thus ascertained be- yond a doubt — that it was not a part of a continent, but formed of two islands, which, together, were about one-third larger than Great Britain. Cook seized every possible opportunity of intercourse with the people, gaining much information concerning their customs and manners, and attempting to introduce among them the culture of the potatoe, and other vegetables. After leaving the shores of New Zealand, Cook steered for Van Dieman^s Land, which had also been discovered by Tas- man. He had now explored three-fourths of that part of the globe where the southern continent was supposed to lie, without being able to find it. It was true he had not yet sailed farther south than forty degrees south latitude, so that it was possible that land might exist between that latitude and the South Pole, but he preferred sailing west- ward, that he might leave no portion of the ocean near New Zealand unexplored. CAPTAIN COOK. 155 At the end of three weeks, a range of green hills appeared in the distance ; and from the observations of Cook and the as- tronomer Mr. Green, they were sailing north of Van Dieman's Land, along an unknown coast. The appearance of the natives was most extraordinary ; a thick bone was sus- pended through the gristle of the nose, their dark bodies were painted with white streaks across their chests and backs, and around their legs, while their countenances were dusted over with a white powder. They held in their hands a wooden weapon, which they brandished, while their gestures were most threatening. They seemed neither to care for nails, beads, nor other trifles, which are generally so attractive to savages. They were the only people in the South Seas who had been seen entirely destitute of clothing. They appeared to wander about like the wild animals, and showed so determined a desire to avoid the strangers, that no inter- course without bloodshed was possible. Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander found the country abounding in objects of natural his- tory ; myriads of brilliant butterflies cover- 156 CAPTAIN COOI^. ed every bush, and beautiful parrots flitted from bough to bough. — So great a variety of shrubs and flowers ornamented the coast, that Cook gave it the name of Botany Bay. It is well known that the neighbourhood of this place is now a flourishing English colony. Hitherto this coast had been navigated in safety, but in sailing northward of Cape Trinity, apparently in deep water, the ship suddenly struck against a coral rock. Every thing was done to lighten her, guns, casks, stores, and fire-wood, were thrown over- board, while the captain, men, and ofiicers, worked at the pumps for more than twenty- four hours, until scarcely any strength re- mained for the necessary exertion. Upon the rising of the tide the ship began to float, but the leak increased most alarm- ingly. In this perilous moment a young midship- man, Mr. Monkhouse, told the captain that he had once been on board a ship which sprung a leak, and that it had been stopped by hauling under the ship's bottom a piece of canvass, well smeared with oakum, wool, and dung. Cook ordered a similar attempt CAPTAIN COOK. 157 to be made under Mr. Monk house's direc- tions, and to the great joy of all on board, it was found to answer admirably. In a few days a harbour was found at the mouth of a river where the necessary repairs were made. Here they saw, for the first time, the curious kangaroo skipping through the woods, and rearing itself on its strong mus- cular tail. The natives in this part were more sociable, but they seemed very inferior to any other race of the South Seas. Even Tupia, the Otaheitan, called them in his language ^' poor wretches." After sailing northward along this un- known coast for two thousand miles, Cook found that it joined the lands already ex- plored by the Dutch, and to which they had given the name of '^ New Holland." Cook entered the straits between New Holland and New Guinea, to which he gave the name of ** Endeavour Straits." The whole of the eastern coast of New Holland is surrounded by coral reefs, en- tirely covered at high water, and occasion- ally laid dry at low water. The navigation had therefore been attended with extreme 168 CAPTAIN COOK. danger : no previous chart of course existed to assist Captain Cook ; yet from his watch- fulness and his zeal, the spirits of his men scarcely ever flagged. From Endeavour Straits Cook proceeded to the Dutch town of Batavia in the island of Java. Here the ship underwent a thorough repair. This unfortunately detained them two months, during which time almost every body on board was ill. Poor little Tayeto, who had been in an extacy of delight at see- ing for the first time coaches, horses, Euro- pean buildings, &c. died of a fever ; then his father, Mr. Monkhouse the midshipman, and five of the crew, died of the same com- plaint. Shortly after leaving Batavia, the same fever again broke out in the ship ; so many were ill of it that the ship was like a hospital, and there were scarcely hands enough to manage her. Thirty persons died in six weeks, and on the arrival of the En- deavour at the Cape of Good Hope, there were but six men on board capable of duty. Cook does not himself seem to have been attacked. The Dutch governor at the Cape received CAPTAIN COOK. 159 Captain Cook and his distressed seamen with the greatest kindness. Houses were prepared, and every attention shown to the sick. At the end of a month, from the whole- someness of the climate and proper diet, the crew were restored, and were enabled to pro- ceed on their voyage. On the 12th of June, 1771, the white cliffs of Dover appeared in sight, and in the even- ing the captain and gentlemen landed, having been three years absent from England. About six months after Cook's return, he was again appointed commander of an ex- pedition to continue the discovery of the Southern Hemisphere. Although he had proved that New Zealand was not a conti- nent, many learned men still believed a large continent lay towards the South Pole. A ship named the Kesolution was given to Captain Cook ; and another, called the Adventurer, to Lieutenant Furneaux, who had sailed with Captain Wallis, round the world : the expedition being entirely under Cook's control and direction. Before the vessels sailed from Plymouth, Sir Hugh Palliser, the early and steady 160 CAPTAIN COOK. friend of Cook went on board to ascertain whether every preparation had been made according to the captain's wishes. We can hardly tell which of the two friends must have felt most happy ; Sir Hugh Paliiser in witnessing the honourable career of the man whose talents and virtues as a sailor, he had so well appreciated, or Cook, in receiving the warm testimony of affection and friend- ship that he had so well earned. On the 13th July, 1772, the Resolution and Adventurer set sail, being well provided with stores for a voyage of two years and a half. This voyage was not diversified with the same variety as the first; but its re- sults were highly important. In this voyage Captain Cook ascertained that there could be no Southern Continent, unless so near the Pole as to be out of the reach of navigation. He sailed over the very spots where former voyagers had described land to be situated, and penetrated farther south than any other navigator. He also discovered New Cale- donia, the largest island in the Southern Pacific except New Zealand, the island of Georgia, and a coast blocked up with ice, in CAPTAIN COOK, 161 latitude fifty-nine degrees south, covered with high rocky mountains, which he named Southern Thule. Not a single plant of any kind was found on it, nor a single animal. Various other small islands he also ob- served and described, besides settling the situation of former discoveries. From the Captain's unwearied persever- ance in guarding the health of his crew, and from the success of his admirable experi- ments, he returned to England on 29th July, 1775, after an absence of three years, with the loss of only one man by sickness, out of a ship's company of a hundred and twenty men. They had traversed more than twenty thousand leagues in every variety of climate, and amidst continual hardships and fatigues. The methods Cook pursued are fully de- scribed in the history of his voyage written by himself. Previous to this voyage, the waste of human life in long voyages was very great, now they may be protracted for three or four years without the smallest fear of injuring the health of the seamen. The reception Cook met with in England, was most gratifying to him. He was imme- 162 CAPTAIN COOK. diately raised to the rank of post-captain, and created a member of the Royal Society. From that learned body he received the gold medal for his excellent paper on preserving the lives of seamen. All England rang with his praises, but no praise could be so de- lightful as his own consciousness that he had for ever placed himself among the bene- factors of mankind, and that too, by his own persevering exertions. If he had been con- tent to remain an ignorant sailor on board the collier, he would have missed all the pleasures which his love of knowledge, his active benevolence, and his enterprising spirit procured him. The ignorant man, however kindly disposed, can never widely benefit his fellow men. Captain Cook had now accomplished so much, that it was thought but reasonable that he should enjoy the rest of his life in quiet, and in order that he might do so, he was made a captain of Greenwich hospital. There were, however, some important points in geography that the government was anxi- ous to clear up. These points were to dis- cover the connection between Asia and CAPTAIN COOK. 163 America, and the practicability of a northern passage, either by sailing eastward round the north of Asia, or westward round the north of America, and by this means shorten the passage to China and the East Indies. This passage had been often attempted by pre- vious navigators, but always without success. Captain Cook was consulted respecting the most proper person to command the expedi- tion, and so much was said on the import- ance of the design and its probable utility, that Captain Cook declared that he would conduct it himself. He was immediately appointed commander of the expedition, 10th Febuary, 1776. The command of the Dis- covery was given to Captain Clerke, who had been second lieutenant on board the Resolution. The instructions from the go- vernment were, that the captain should sail to the Pacific, through the chain of his newly discovered islands, and attempt the northern passage by Beering's Straits. — They were provided with a quantity of seeds of various European vegetables, be- sides cows and goats, for the use of the South Sea islanders, also a large assortment 164 CAPTAIN COOK. of trinkets and iron tools, to enable them to trafiBc with the natives. Draftsmen and natu- ralists accompanied the expedition, as usual. After touching at the Cape of Good Hope and Kerguelan island, Cook steered for Van Dieman's Land, and anchored in Adventure Bay, 24th January, 1777. The only naviga- tors known to have visited this country before were Tasman, who had discovered it in 1642, and Captain Furneaux, in Cook's second expedition. The richly wooded appearance of the country excited Cook's desire to know more of its extent, produce, and inhabit- ants. He was much disappointed to find the natives dirty, naked, and ignorant; pos- sessing neither weapons of defence, houses, nor canoes. In general, they were not un- like the New Hollanders on the north-eastern coast of New Holland, but their language was perfectly distinct. Their skin was black, and their hair woolly. Those of the natives who lived near the coast, dwelt in trees hol- lowed out for the purpose by fire. These holes were six or seven feet high, and sufii- ciently large for four or five persons. CAPTAIN COOK. 165 From Van Diemao's Land the Resolution sailed to New Zealand, and anchored in Dusky Bay, when Captain Cook again en- deavoured to teach the natives the culture of vegetables. A garden that Captain Fur- neaux had planted was still in existence, though over-run with weeds ; and the crew of the Resolution obtained from it onions, cabbages, radishes, and potatoes. The na- tives were shyer than usual in their inter- course, probably from fear of the revenge of Captain Cook. In the last expedition Captain Furneaux had lost ten of his crew by a horrible massacre which took place in this part of the island. The sailors had been sent on shore to procure wild greens, and accord- ing to the account of the New Zealanders, began the affray, by beating two of the na- tives severely, for stealing some of their provi- sions. This the New Zealanders resented, and then the sailors shot two of them dead. Immediately a large party of the natives rushed to the beach, and overpowered the sailors. Their bodies were afterwards cut up and eaten by the savages. Some of the New Zealanders were very 16f) CAPTAIN COOK. anxious to give up the chief who they said was the leader of this massacre, that he might be put to death. To this Captain Cook would not consent, as he could not tell who had begun the quarrel, and he feared to punish any one unjustly. After leaving New Zealand, Cook pro- ceeded to the Society Isles, where he was received with the same hearty welcome as be- fore. As soon as he arrived at Huaheine, all the principal people came out to meet him. Cook took this opportunity to entreat them to grant a piece of land to Omai, an Otaheitan, whom Captain Furneaux had taken to En- gland with him, and who had returned to his native country in the Resolution. The cap- tain assured them that the horses, and a variety of articles which Omai had brought with him from England, would be very use- ful to them. They immediately replied, "that the whole island of Huaheine was at the captain's disposal, and therefore, he could give any part he pleased to his friend. Omai was greatly pleased at hearing this, and thought that the captain would certainly be very liberal; but Captain Cook wisely CAPTAIN COOK. 167 made the chiefs mark out the ground, which was sufficiently large for the purpose. The ship's carpenter built Omai a house, and a garden was planted round it, with pine-ap- ples, melons, and English vegetables. Most of Omai's stores were now carried ashore. To his great surprise, he found that his kettles, dishes, mugs, glasses, and plates, did not excite any admiration, and he began to think that he could eat a baked pig without a plate, as well as his countrymen, and that a plantain leaf would make as good a dish as one made of pewter; he therefore parted with many of these things to the ship's crew, and received in exchange, hatchets and other iron tools, which excited far greater respect among his countrymen. He entertained the officers several times in his new house, and was both pleased and grateful for the atten- tion which had been shown to his future comfort. Omai was kind-hearted, and good- natured, but he wanted perseverance and application, two useful qualities which are little known to the Otaheitans. After Cook quitted the Society Islands, he sailed northwards for more than a thousand 168 CAPTAIN COOK. leagues. On the 18th of January, 1778, be- ing in latitude 21*^ north, and in longitude 200° east, he fell in with a group of islands, and canoes came off from the land to meet the ship. The natives showed more astonishment on entering the ship than any other people that Cook had ever met with. Their eyes were continually turning from one object to another, the wildness of their looks and ges- tures fully expressing their entire ignorance of almost every thing they saw. Iron, in- deed, they had some notion of, from a piece of iron hoop which had been washed on their shores. They refused beads and looking- glasses, but constantly asked for iron ar- ticles, which they quickly perceived were useful in cutting hard substances. When Cook and the officers landed, the natives fell flat on their faces, and remained in that humble posture till Cook, by expres- sive signs, besought them to rise. They pre- sented branches of plantain as offerings of good will, a custom which prevails in most of the islands of the Pacific. They speedily provided the ships with water, figs, and vegetables, in exchange for nails and other CAPTAIN COOK. 169 things. In their language, their customs, and their dress, they resembled the Otaheit- ans, but the cloaks of the chiefs were of a far gayer material, and of a very curious workmanship. They were composed of a thin net- work entirely covered with scarlet and yellow feathers, placed so near that the sur- face appeared like the richest velvet. A helmet covered like the cloak completed the costume. Specimens of this kind of dress are now in the British Museum. Captain Cook was quite convinced that no European had ever visited these islands before. After hav- ing discovered five in the same group, he gave them the name of the Sandwich Is- lands. They are situated halfway between Acapulco on the western coast of America and the Philippine Islands, and from their situation and productions, have proved of great value to the whaling ships in the Paci- fic Ocean. From the Sandwich Islands, Cook pro- ceeded to explore the coast of New Albion in North America, so named by Sir Francis Drake. The people of this coast resemble the Esquimaux in some degree, and are quite 6. 1 170 CAPTAIN COOK. different in manners and habits, to the is- landers of the Pacific Ocean. They are short, with broad faces and flat noses, and are accustomed to traffic with the neighbouring^ tribes. Still sailing northwards, Cook coasted the north-western shores of America, to an ex- tent of three thousand five hundred miles ; passed through Beering Straits that divide the continents of Asia and America, ascer- tained the exact distance between these con- tinents, and proceeded westward as far as a cape situated in latitude 79° north, and in longitude 198° east, and which he named Icy Cape. He reached this point on the 18th of August. Finding it impossible to proceed far- ther in that direction from the great extent of ice, which was increasing rapidly, he deter- mined to winter in the Sandwich Islands, that, early in the following season, he might be ready to explore the Northern Seas, with his ship in better order, and well provisioned for a tedious voyage. Neither Beering Straits nor any part of the American coast on the north-west side had been visited previous to 1728, when CAPTAIN COOK. 171 Captain Beering made his first voyage of discovery. This voyage was planned by Peter the Great, who wrote out with his own hand, the instructions of the commander. After the death of Peter the Great, the Empress who succeeded him carried the plan into effect. Beering discovered the straits which bear his name, in this voyage ; but he kept so close to the Asiatic coast, that he did not even see the American shore, al- though the appearance of the open sea con- vinced him that the continents were com- pletely separated. On the arrival of the Resolution and Dis- covery at Howaii, (or Owhyhee, as the prin- cipal island of the group is more often called,) the crowds of people that flocked to the beach were truly astonishing. Three thou- sand canoes were counted in the bay, filled with men, women, and children, besides num- bers of the natives that were sustaining them- selves on floats in the water. On the day after the arrival of the ships, the king, Terreoboo, in a large canoe at- tended by two others, paddled towards the ships in great state. In the first canoe were i2 172 CAPTAIN COOK. the king and his chiefs, dressed in their rich feathered cloaks and helmets, and armed with long spears and daggers. In the se- cond canoe, the chief of the priests and his brethren, with their idols. These idols were busts of a gigantic size, made of wicker- work, and curiously covered with small feathers of various colours, wrought in the same manner as their cloaks ; the eyes were made of large pearl oysters, and their mouths set with a double row of dog's teeth. The third canoe was filled with hogs and various sorts of vegetables. As they went along, the priests in the centre canoe sang their hymns, and after paddling round the ships, made towards the shore. Captain Cook, perceiving that the king was returning without entering the ships, quickly followed him, and they both arrived at the beach together. Scarcely were they seated, when the king rose up and threw over the captain's shoulders the cloak he himself wore. He also spread before him five or six other cloaks. The attendants brought hogs, bread, fruit, cocoa-nuts, and sugar-cane, and the ceremony was concluded CAPTAIN COOK. 173 by the king's exchanging names with the captain. This custom is considered the high- est pledge of friendship among all the South Sea Islanders. The quiet inoffensive behaviour of the natives removed all thoughts of danger from the minds of both officers and men. During their two months' stay off this island they did not hesitate to trust themselves among the natives in all times and situations. The officers frequently made excursions up the country for two or three days together, and on their return had always fresh acts of kindness to relate to their companions. Cook found not the slightest difficulty in provisioning the ships, or in making the ne- cessary repairs ; and the day before he sailed, was treated with greater liberality by the king and chiefs than at any former time. Early on the 4th of February, 1779, the Resolution unmoored and sailed out of the bay, with the Discovery in company. The next day the weather became gloomy, and the gusts of wind were so violent as to split both the fore and maintop-sails of the Reso- lution. The boisterous weather continued. 174 CAPTAIN COOK. and on the 8th, the foremast was found to have given way. It being- absolutely neces- sary to repair the mast, Cook made for his old quarters, and on the 10th, again anchored in Karakakooa Bay, Owhyhee. Every thing went on in its usual way for a few days, and then the behaviour of the natives suddenly changed, and they were seen armed with stones, and were becoming very quarrelsome. In the evening of the 13th, a scuffle ensued between them and some of the Discovery's people, on account of some goods that had been stolen from the Discovery, and had been regained with dif- ficulty. The same night the Discovery's cut- ter was stolen from the bay, where it was moored. It had been Captain Cook's usual practice, whenever any thing of consequence was lost at any of the islands in this ocean, to get the king or some of the principal chiefs on board, as hostages, till the stolen articles were restored. This method, which had always been successful, he meant to pursue on the present occasion. He marched immediately into the village, accompanied by the lieutenant of marines, a sergeant^ CAPTAIN COOK. 175 corporal, and seven privates, where he was received with the usual marks of respect. They found the old king just awoke from sleep, and he readily consented to go on board with the captain. However, in a short time, the people were observed to arm themselves with long spears, clubs, and dag- gers, and to put on their thick mats, which they used as armour. This hostile appear- ance was much increased by the news which was just now brought by a canoe, that one of the chiefs had been killed by the seamen in the Discovery's boats. Immediately on hearing this, the women removed, and a con- fused murmur ran through the crowd. Cap- tain Cook beginning to think his situation dangerous, ordered the lieutenant of marines to march towards the shore as he himself did, all the while holding the king by the hand, who was attended by his wife, two sons, and several chiefs. The king's sons went on board the pinnace without the small- est hesitation ; but just as the king was fol- lowing them, his wife threw her arms round his neck, and assisted by two chiefs, forced him to sit down. Captain Cook finding that 176 CAPTAIN COOK. the alarm became general, and that it was in vain to think of getting the king off without bloodshed, was on the point of giving orders to his people to re-embark, when one of the natives threw a stone at him. The captain desired him to desist, and on his repeating it, fired at him with small shot ; the matting protected the man from the shot, which had therefore, no other effect than to provoke him. Still the captain, unwilling to take away life, merely knocked him down. At the same time several stones were thrown at the marines, and one of the chiefs attempted to stab their officer, Mr. Phillips. Captain Cook now fired his gun, loaded with ball, and killed one of the foremost of the chiefs. A general attack with stones immediately commenced, which was answered by a dis- charge of musketry from the marines and the boats. What followed was a scene of the utmost horror and confusion. The na- tives with shouts and yells rushed in upon the marines before they had time to reload, killed four, and drew the rest into the water, leaving the unfortunate Captain and Lieu- tenant King alone on a rock. One man was CAPTAIN COOK. 177 seen following the captain with marks of fear, for he stopped once or twice ; at last he struck him on the head with a heavy club, and then hastily retreated. Before Cook could recover from the violence of the blow, he was stabbed in the back. The last time he was seen, he was looking to- wards the boats for assistance, struggling violently with the natives, who crowded upon him. At that time the boat was not five or six yards distant, but such was the confusion that no help was given to him. Lieutenant King seeing the captain fall, en- gaged the chief who stabbed him, and soon dispatched him. He stood for some time the sole object of their attack Faint, at last, with loss of blood and excessive action, he plunged into the sea, and reached the boats in safety. The lifeless body of the captain was hauled on the rocks by the natives, and used in a most barbarous manner, each showing a savage eagerness to possess a share of his mangled remains. Thus fell this great and excellent com- mander. The dismay and sorrow of the ships' companies cannot be described. His 1 5 178 CAPTAIN COOK. loss was equally felt by the officers and the seamen, because in every difficulty and dan- ger, they had equally been the objects of his tenderness and care. Even during the strug- gle that terminated his life, his anxiety was directed to the preservation of his people, and the procuring them a safe retreat to the ships. From Cook's early years on board the collier to his death at Owhyhee, he evinced calmness in difficulties and dangers, and energy and perseverance in fulfilling what he deemed a duty. He added greatly to our knowledge of geography, while his successful experiments to preserve the health of seamen, would alone entitle him to the gra- titude of all mankind. Cook may be justly called a great man, for he pursued great and worthy objects, by honourable means. Captain Gierke, by the death of Cook, became commander of the expedition. As soon as the ships could be repaired, he pro- ceeded to the north, hoping to penetrate farther east or west, than had been accom- plished in the former season. Notwithstanding his utmost endeavours, he had scarcely reached so far, when he con- CAPTAIN COOK. 179 sidered any farther attempt impossible. The ships had been much injured by the shocks they had received from being- frequently jammed between the ice, and unless they were repaired, destruction seemed unavoid- able. During the whole of this northern voyage, Gierke was suffering from severe illness, but his cheerfulness never left him, and his greatest anxiety to the last, was for the success of the expedition. He died while the ships were stationed at a Russian settlement on the coast of Kamtschatka. The Resolution and the Discovery returned to England 4th of October, 1781, after an absence of four years and two months. On the news arriving in England of the untimely death of Cook, a general feeling of sorrow spread throughout the country. The brave and good commander could not, indeed, be sensible of the expressions of esteem and admiration that his countrymen showered upon his memory; but his wife and children were cheered by the proofs of that esteem in the sympathy that was shown them in their misfortune. A pension was settled on the widow and her two sons. A 180 CAPTAIN COOK. gold medal was struck in honour of Cook, by the Royal Society, and his praises were repeated in every country in Europe.* By the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands, his loss was greatly regretted, and his name was long held in affectionate re- membrance. Amongst several of the islands he was called by the name of '' father," and his justice and continual care of the interests of the natives, made him well deserve the title. On one or two occasions, when blood had been shed, if Cook thought that he had been in the slightest degree to blame, his sorrow was extreme. He uniformly endea- voured to gain the confidence of the natives by kindness, and constantly exerted himself in every possible way to introduce among them the benefits of civilized life. * The medals which had been presented to Cook, and after his death to his widow, have lately become the property of the nation, Mrs. Cook, the venerable widow of the com- mander, having bequeathed them to the British Museum pre- vious to her death, in the spring of the present year 1835. 181 THE LOCK, '* You seem very busy this morning, lads/' said Mr, Harmer, as he entered the play- room, and saw Fred standing upon a chair at a closet, arranging piles of books which George was handing to him from time to time, while around them were painting boxes, desks, models of steam engines and car- riages, boats, bridges, and a variety of other things. "Yes, papa," said Fred, "mamma has given us the use of this closet, that we may keep our books and different things together, Lucy is so fond of looking at our contri- vances, that she often injures them if they happen to be within her reach, and we be not at home to take care of them: mamma says, therefore, that as Lucy is too young to understand the value of them, it would be better for us to keep out of her reach those things that we do not wish her to play with. Is not this closet large and roomy, and are 182 THE LOCK. not these shelves around the three sides of it convenient ?" *' There is one thing papa, though, that the closet requires," said George, ''before we can be quite sure that Lucy cannot get at our things." " \Yhat is that?" said Mr. Harmer. "A lock, papa," replied George. "If you will allow us to put a lock on your door, we intend to buy one." ** I will allow you with pleasure," replied Mr. Harmer, '' but who is to fix the lock ?" " I think I can," said Fred. *^ Yes," said his father, *^as you can use the necessary tools for the purpose, the chisel, and mallet, and screw-driver, and gimblet, and key-hole saw, I dare say you will be able to accomplish it. I think, however, it would be a good plan to try to fix the lock in a plain piece of wood first, and then you will be less likely to spoil the door." To this Fred willingly agreed. '* But what sort of a lock am I to ask the ironmon- ger for?" said he. " It must a common cupboard lock," said his father, ** about four inches long ; then THE LOCK. 183 the bolt must come out to the left hand, and I should like it to have solid wards. The lock should be sunk inside a hollow cut out of the door, and not merely screwed outside. The ironmonger will know exactly what you want, if you ask for a four inch left hand, inside cupboard lock, with solid ivards." "Thank you, papa," said Fred; " as soon as we have placed the things neatly in the closet, we will go and buy the lock." When the boys went to the ironmonger's, they saw a great variety of locks, on one of which was written, *' The sum of one hun- dred pounds will be given to the person who can pick this lock ;" this made them very curious to know something about it. " It must be a very valuable lock, if it is impossible, or very difficult to pick it," ob- served Fred to his brother. '' I have heard a hundred times of locks that have been picked by thieves, for the sake of stealing valuable property.'' '' Pray," said Fred, turning to the shop- man, " what is the reason why that lock can- not be picked?" " On account of the number of tumblersJ' 184 THE LOCK. The man's answer puzzled the boys ex- ceedingly. *^ What are tumblers, sir V en- quired George. " They are the things that lock the bolt, and prevent it from shooting," answered the shopman. The boys were not much wiser for this ex- planation, so they resolved to ask their fa- ther about the lock when they reached home. They purchased the cupboard lock ; but as they were leaving the shop, they could not help lingering at the window, to look once more at the lock which had particularly struck their attention. *' How I should like to see the inside of that lock !" said Fred, softly, to his brother. ** Should you?" said the master of the shop, who had overheard Fred's remark. *' Then if you will come this afternoon at five o'clock, I will show it to you, as I shall then be at leisure; and perhaps I shall be able to make you understand its construction." Fred thanked the ironmonger for his good- natured offer, and said he should feel much pleasure in coming. The boys ran home and told their father THE LOCK. 185 of the curious lock, and of the invitation they had received. " But," said Fred, *' I should like to see the inside of this common lock first, because I think I shall then under stand better the valuable lock that the iron monger is going- to show us." '^ You may easily see the inside of the lock," said Mr. Harmer ; *' by unscrewing the two little screws which screw the back and the front of the lock together," George fetched the screw-driver, and Fred soon took out the screws. Mr. Har- mer then pointed out the different parts of the lock, which are exactly like these little drawings : A the back plate : F the front plate,^ which has two long nar- row holes A, /i, that fit on to two projecting studs d, d, and keep it in its right place. The two screws which go through the holes G G in the front plate, into I I in the back plate, screw the two plates firmly together. B is the bolt, having two little square notches in the top 186 THE LOCK. edge. T is the tumbler, pressed downwards by the spring S, and turning on a little pin at p. The tumbler has a little square stud at the top corner, and this stud falls or tum- bles into one of the two square notches in the bolt. When the bolt is out, or shot, as it is called, it cannot be drawn back till the tum- bler is lifted out of the bolt ; nor when the bolt is drawn back can it be shot, until the tumbler is lifted up." '* Oh ! now I understand," said Fred, ** what the shopman meant, when he told THE LOCK. 187 us that the tumblers lock the bolt, and pre- vent it from shooting." " What is that little brass thing for, in the back plated' said George. *' It is something like a little pill box." " That contrivance is called the wards,'' said his father. *' Sometimes these wards are made of thin pieces of iron, bent round ; but when made of a solid piece of brass, they are called solid wards. Wards are made of a great variety of shapes, and the use of them is to prevent a false key from being put into the lock, for if the key is not cut to fit the wards, it cannot get by them. P is the guide pin on which the key turns." 188 THE LOCK. Their father then pointed out to them how well the key fitted the wards, and George was much amused at seeing the key pass so easily round the little steps, as he called them. '^ Now," said Mr. Harmer, ^' as we have got the key into the lock, let us see how it shoots the holt. At the bottom edge of the bolt is a round notch (N)^ for the edge of the key to fall into ; and close by this notch is the lower end of the tumbler. When the key is turned round, it presses against the lower edge of the tumbler, and lifts it up, and of course lifts it out of the bolt ; and as soon as the tumbler is lifted high enough, the key pushes against the inside of the round notch in the bolt, and pushes the bolt forward ; and then, as the key turns away, the tumbler falls into the notch, and keeps the bolt from being pushed back." On looking at the shape of the key, Mr. Harmer said he thought he had a key like it, and, in comparing them, Fred thought they were exactly alike. His father put it into the wards, and it passed over them very well, and even lifted up the tumbler, * Shown by the dotted line. THE LOCK. 189 but still it would not shoot the bolt. George was very much surprised that the bolt did not move, and asked his father the reason. " You had better try to find it out your- selves," said Mr. Harmer. As soon as Fred had the lock in his own hands, both he and his brother carefully examined it. ** I see, I see," said Fred; ** although the tum- bler is lifted up by the key, it is not lifted up quite high enough, for the square stud of the tumbler is not lifted entirely out of the notch in the bolt. Look, papa, the tumbler requires to be lifted about the thickness of a card higher." ** Yes," said his father, *^ you have found out why the bolt will not shoot, and you can easily perceive how necessary it is that the key should be made exact, for if the end of my key had only been the thickness of a card longer at the edge, it would have lifted the tumbler high enough." ** I should think, papa," said Fred, ** that as our key would lift up the tumbler in your fock higher than your key can in our lock, we might be able to open your lock with our 'ey." 190 THE LOCK. " Very likely," said Mr. Harmer ; *' be- cause the bolt of my lock has no notches ohove the tumbler." ^' I do not quite understand you, papa," said Fred. '* The bolts of some locks," continued Mr. Harmer, ^' are made in this manner," and as he spoke, he made a slight sketch on a slip of paper. ** It is not difficult to understand, if the tumbler is lifted too high, even if it were the thickness of a card, in a lock of this con- struction, that the bolt would be locked as effectually, as by not lifting the tumbler high enough. But, as I observed before, my lock has no notches above the tumbler." On trial, the boys found that their key opened their father's lock with ease. After this conversation, the boys proceeded to try their skill, by fixing the new lock in THE LOCK, 191 the piece of wood, and having succeeded to their satisfaction, they put it very neatly into the closet door. They could now se- curely lock up their treasures, when wishing to be absent from home. At five o'clock, they went to the ironmon- ger's, quite glad that they knew something more, as to how tumblers locked the bolt, and prevented it from shooting, than they did in the morning. The ironmonger showed them the inside of the lock. It had no less than seven tumblers, and in the edge of the key were seven notches, like steps. He told them that each step raised a separate tumbler, and that if either of the notches in the hit, (as he called that part of the key,) were in the slightest degree too high, or too low, the lock could not be opened. The lock was of beautiful workmanship. The iron- monger told them that locks were made for as low a price as twopence, and as high as twenty pounds. He also showed them se- veral kinds of locks, and took a great deal of 192 THE LOCK. pains lo explain the various forms of them. The boys left the shop, thanking the obliging master of it very warmly, for the trouble he had taken to please them. *' Really, papa," said Fred, on his return ; '* I think there is something to be learned from every thing around us !" *' Indeed there is, Fred.; and the more you acquire the habit of seeking information upon every subject that excites your atten- tion, the wiser you will become, and the greater will be your power of being useful both to yourself and others." THE CASTLE AND THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. "I AM glad we are going to Hastings, mamma," said Godfrey Campbell to his mother, who had just told him that his fa- ther had taken a house there for the summer. '^ I like going to Hastings better than to any other place, because there is a ruin of an old castle there, and I have never seen a real castle." '* Has the castle at Hastings a moat and a draw-bridge V inquired Arthur ; ^' and, mamma, has it a great gate-way, with that curious thing, I forget the name of it, which used to be lowered, when the gates could not be closed quickly enough." " Port-cullis, do you mean?" said his mother. *' Yes. Has the castle at Hastings a port-cullis?" K 2 196 THE CASTLE AND " No, my dear ; and I fear that both you and Godfrey will be disappointed in your ex- pectations respecting the castle. So small a portion of the castle is still standing, that the ruins are not half so interesting as many others in the kingdom. However, we shall have plenty of time to look about, and ex- amine the old castle when we are at Hast- ings, and at present, I must prepare for our departure." A few days after this conversation, the family went to Hastings. The house that Mr. Campbell had chosen, was on the Castle Hill, just under the walls of the old castle, and it commanded a pleasant and extensive view both over the sea and the land. Notwith- standing the wish of the boys to see the cas- tle; the sea, the beautiful sea, had so many temptations, that for the first week after their arrival, excepting one hasty glance at the old ruins, they scarcely thought of the castle. Morning, noon, and evening, the boys were on the beach, or on the rocks ; sometimes sailing their boats in a sheltered cove, or erecting docks and embankments against the tide ; sometimes hunting for crabs, shells, or THE SCHOOL'HOUSE, 197 star-fish among the rocks, or, with tucked-up trousers, shrimping knee-deep in the water. From these latter expeditions, they gene- rally returned unsuccessful ; for, as Arthur said, '* It certainly was very strange, but the shrimps scarcely ever would jump into their nets." In searching the sands and rocks for shells, sea-weeds, crabs, Sec, they were more fortunate; and numerous were the curious ob- jects they brought home, to show their father and mother. One morning, some time after their arrival, Mrs. Campbell proposed a ride to St. Leonards, which would enable some of the party to take a longer ramble, as, by dis- missing the chaise at St. Leonards, they could return home by any road that seemed the most agreeable. Accordingly, the boys rode with their mother along the shore to St. Leonards, chatting all the way upon the dif- ferent objects that attracted their attention, the fishing boats, the chalk boats, the lime kilns, the Martello towers, and many other things. The way home led them through the meadows, copse-woods, hop plantations, and osier grounds, that lie between St. Leonards and St. Mary's Terrace. The boys enjoyed 198 THE CASTLE AND this walk exceedingly. The woods were full of wild flowers, some of which were quite new to them. Then there was the woodman felling the timber, and the waggoner cheering his team of stout sleepy oxen, with his strange uncouth language. The women in the hop plantations were busy clearing the plants from insects, raising the hop-poles that the wind had blown down, and carefully weeding be- tween the rows. Equally industrious were the groups of boys and girls, who were singing at their work in the osier beds, some gathering the long wands into bundles, some quickly strip- ping them of their bark, by means of a little forked instrument, through which they drew the osier twig. After passing the osier grounds, they climbed up the hill to St. Mary's Terrace, where three windmills serve as an excellent land-mark to sailors, and then the old castle appeared in full view again, standing among the rough broken rocks on the summit of the cliff, with the sea behind it, extending as far as the eye could reach. The view was so beautiful, that the boys THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 199 could not help calling- their mother's atten- tion to it. " And, mamma, do you see that pretty cottage on the right," said Arthur, '' with the roses growing round the windows ?" " The windows are larger and handsomer than those of a cottage," observed Godfrey ; " I should think that it is a school-house, and that those children who are sitting on the bank, are waiting until it is time to go in to the afternoon school. There ! a bell is ringing, and the children are jumping up from the bank, and are flocking into the house." " Yes," said Mrs. Campbell, '* it is the new school-house that has lately been built for the children of the fishermen and cot- tagers of Hastings. We will ask the mis- tress to allow us to go in also : I like to see young people engaged in useful and agree- able occupations." Mrs. Campbell spoke to the school-mis- tress, who readily allowed her and the boys to see the school. The school-room was large, airy, and convenient. The cleanli- ness of the well boarded floor, the smooth 200 THE CASTLE AND white walls, ornamented with coloured views of different countries, and large prints of animals, the bright faced clock, and the po- lished fire-place, with a large nosegay in the grate, gave a cheerful gay look to the scene, which was very agreeable to the eye. Two elder girls stood at a table, giving out slates and writing-books, while a third unlocked a cupboard, and distributed needle-work. On each side of the fire-place were a few shelves for those books which were employed in in- structing the children ; and a small book- case displayed through its glass doors a num- ber of entertaining and amusing books, which were lent to the young people to read, as re- wards for diligence and good conduct. The school-mistress assured Mrs. Campbell that these books were very much valued. She also gave Mrs. Campbell many particulars about the school. Each child, she told her, paid three-pence a week, and she showed her several specimens of their needle-work, writing, &c. The children chiefly worked for their parents, and great, she said, was the delight of the little ones, when they were first able to accomplish a shirt for a THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 201 father or a brother. She pointed to one little girl, who looked particularly bright and happy, and who was occupied in rub- bing out the lines from a sheet of paper, on which she had written a letter to an aunt in London. The mistress said that the little girl had employed the usual play hour for that purpose, and the letter now only re- quired to be folded up and directed. As Mrs. Campbell left the school-house with the boys, both of them expressed the pleasure this hasty visit had given them. ** How well some of the little girls read and wrote !" exclaimed Arthur. *' And how comfortable they all looked in their pleasant room !" said Godfrey. *' Yes," said Mrs. Campbell, " those children possess advantages and conveni- ences, of which the chiefs and warriors who built and defended yonder old castle, were quite ignorant. They could not amuse them- selves with a book, nor write letters to their friends, when absent from them." *' Oh, mamma, surely chiefs and warriors could read," said Godfrey. '* Grown up people not know how to read K 5 202 THE CASTLE AND and write !" exclaimed Arthur, " you must be joking, mamma." " No, indeed, I am not," replied Mrs. Campbell ; " it is not known at what time and by whom the first fortress was built on that cliff; some writers supposing it to have been erected when the Romans had possession of this country, in order to protect the people from the invasion of pirates ; and other writers believing it to have been built in King Al- fred's time, about 940 years ago. Now, supposing it to have been built at no earlier date than during King Alfred's reign, we know that nothing could exceed the ignor- ance of all classes of people when he first came to the throne. It is true King Alfred introduced schools for the children of the rich and great ; yet it is not very likely that the parents would submit to what they con- sidered the drudgery of learning, or that there could be many readers, when, from the scarcity of books, very large sums of money were given for a single volume, that might now be bought for a few shillings. There were no printed books then, paper was not even known, and the labour of making a THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 203 few copies of any single work, by copying it with a pen on parchment or vellum, must have been very great. Even some hundreds of years later than the time I am speaking of, rich and powerful chiefs were often unable to write. They were accustomed to keep a clerk, as he was called, to transact such busi- ness for them as required writing, and they merely added the mark of a cross x on the parchment, to show that they approved of that which their clerks had written." " The people in the greater part of Europe thought of little else than war and bloodshed, and England was not only continually en- gaged in quarrels among her different chiefs and kings, but in defending herself against invaders." " You mean the Danes, do you not, mamma?" said Arthur, " because they in- vaded England both in King Alfred's time and after his death. They were a fierce, cruel people, were not they ?" '* Yes. The cruelty and fierceness of the Danes were even remarkable in those bar- barous times, and made them terrible as ene- mies. In the midst of war and bloodshed. 204 THE CASTLE AND people could not think much of the various means to increase the comforts and pleasures of life, and therefore it is not surprising that the ground was badly cultivated, the people ill clothed, and the houses miserably arranged. Even the walls of the castles, that were built with great strength, and adorned within with hangings of crimson cloth and tapestry, let in the wind by innumerable crevices ; and, al- though there were chimnies, they were so awk- wardly contrived that the rooms were filled with the smoke of the huge fires, and the ceilings, or rather rafters (for there were no ceilings), were black with the continued ad- ditions of soot. " A small portion of the rooms was raised at one end, called the dais, and was furnished with richly carved chairs, curiously inlaid, and brought from foreign parts, for the use of the chief and his family ; but the rest of the room, fitted up with rough benches and tables, and the floor covered with rushes, must have looked, according to our notions, very un- couth," " Yes, indeed,'' said Godfrey, ** the rooms could not have looked half so clean and com- THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 205 fortable as the school-room we have seen this morning. How were the people dressed in those times ?" " I was just going to ask mamma the same question," said Arthur. " Rich people," replied Mrs. Campbell, " were dressed in garments of fine woollen or even silk, over a shirt of linen. Instead of stockings, which were not then known, they wore strips of linen bound round the leg, and wooden soles for shoes, fastened to the foot by sandals. The labourer wore a close vest of very coarse woollen, or of sheepskin, next to his skin, which was secured round the waist by a leathern girdle. He was forced to fight in all the quarrels of his employer, and what was still worse, he and all his family might be sold at his master's pleasure. Dur- ing all the wars between the natives and the Saxons and Danes, the mildest fate that the prisoners could expect was to be made slaves of. At the time of the conquest, that is, about 1066, the greater number of the la- bourers, mechanics, and work-people, were slaves, and could be bought and sold, just as the negroes have been, until lately, in the West Indies." 206 THE CASTLE AND ** How miserable they must have felt," said Godfrey, " to see the corn fields they had cultivated laid waste, and themselves taken prisoners." " Yes," said Mrs. Campbell, " and worse evils followed, for frequent famines and pain- ful diseases were the consequence, and little comfort could they have in sickness, lying on a bed of straw, and a pillow of wood." ** Oh, mamma, surely they had some better bed than that!" *' I should think not," said Mrs. Campbell, "for, I believe, although the beds of King Alfred's household were covered with mantles of cloth, that they still were but of straw. One of the duties of the chief officers of the court was to provide clean straw and rushes for the beds of the king's household. " Then, while the poor man was confined by sickness to the house, if the weather were cold and rainy, he must be content to shiver under it, or be in the dark ; for, although the use of glass was introduced into this country about 200 years before King Alfred's time, it was far too costly to be used for any other than public buildings, and the dwellings of THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 207 very rich people. In some cases the windows were filled with linen cloth, but more fre- quently with wooden shutters, which were closed in bad weather.'^ ^' How uncomfortable," said Arthur ; " then people could only tell how the day was passing- by their clocks." '^ They had no clocks," said Godfrey, '* because I recollect reading that King Al- fred used to burn candles of an equal length to mark the hours, that he might regulate the time he gave to different occupations." ** No," said his mother, " neither clocks nor many other useful inventions were known at that time. The sails of these wind-mills, which are going so swiftly round, are doing the work of hundreds and thousands of hands ; but in King Alfred's reign neither water- mills nor wind-mills were known in this country. The corn was ground into meal in hand-mills, which were turned by women." *' What a labour !" said Godfrey, ** and how small a quantity must have been ground at one time." While Mrs. Campbell and the boys were thus talking, they climbed up the rocks and 208 THE CASTLE AND mounds that surround a considerable portion of the castle. Godfrey and Arthur amused themselves with tracing where the ancient moat had been, and where the chief entrance had formerly stood. Then they walked on the top of the thick massy walls, which were wide enough, Arthur said, for six or eight men to walk a-breast. *' How I should like to know which part of this castle was really built in King Alfred's time," said Godfrey. '* Those towers look very old, mamma. Do you think they may have been built in his time ?" " The outer walls appear to me of an older date than the towers/' said Mrs. Campbell. " They may have been built in King Alfred's time, or two hundred years later, by William the Conqueror. It is known that the castle was strongly fortified in his time, and that he gave it to his brother. Many an unhappy prisoner of war has been confined in these towers. All ancient castles had a tower, and some had two, called a keep or dungeon, and it was from the flat top of this that the chief defence was made. The upper part contained the lodgings of the commander and oflScers, THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 209 and at the bottom, under ground, and with- out light, was the prison. The walls of these dungeons were sometimes so thick as to allow of a staircase in the body of the wall itself.'' *' And these narrow openings in the walls, I dare say, were for the men to shoot their arrows through," said Godfrey. " I thought they were intended to let in the light," said Arthur. " They were for both purposes/' said Mrs. Campbell ; " people were reconciled to being nearly in the dark, when they thought they were safe from the arrows of their enemies ; and from the narrowness of these loop-holes, an arrow could not very easily enter. And many other inconveniences people at that time were content to bear, while their thoughts were entirely occupied with war and its con- sequences. People who were sick then could not travel to a pleasant watering-place for their health. They were obliged to stay at home, unless they were strong enough to ride on horseback. There were no stages, no carriages, no chaises ; most of the roads were far too bad for such vehicles, even if 210 THE CASTLE, ETC. people had had them. In many directions the bold traveller had the pleasure of riding through forests frequented by wolves and bears ; and if any accident happened to his horse, to pass the night on the bare ground, and to run the risk of being seized and killed by some marauding party. But come, boys, we must go home, for we might employ all the day in talking of the numerous comforts of our own time compared to those of King Alfred, and we have already stayed out far beyond our usual hour." 211 KENSINGTON GARDENS. '^ I DID not think, when I came to visit you, uncle, that I should see so many dif- ferent birds," said Charles Long, as he and his uncle entered Kensington Gardens, one morning. " I thought all but sparrows and rooks would be frightened away by the smoke and the noise.'' " I could give you a long list of birds that I have observed in the neighbourhood of London," replied his uncle. " These gar- dens, alone, afford shelter to many kinds of birds, for, although not a mile from Picca- dilly, they are so well wooded, and the greater part of them so little visited, that the birds can rear their young, unmolested. Do you see that little blue bird clinging to the trunk of the elm ? You know the name of it, I dare say !" 212 KENSINGTON GARDENS. " Yes, it is the tom-tit, or blue-cap, as some people call it. I think he would break his bill, if it were not very short and strong, he strikes it with such force against the bark. He is searching for insects between the cre- vices of the bark. How he moves his little head from side to side, as he climbs the branch. I like watching the tom-tits, they are such active little birds. They can put themselves in all kinds of positions, and cling equally well in all. I have often watched them clinging against our garden wall, and picking out spiders from old nail holes. They brush away the cobwebs, and poke in their KENSINGTON GARDENS. 213 little bills, as if they were quite sure of their prize." '* All the different kinds of tit- mice are great destroyers of insects," said his uncle, *' and none more so, than the blue-cap. The construction of their eye assists them in ob- serving small objects. To the eye of the blue- cap, the eggs of a fly appear as large as bullets, and an insect a quarter of an inch long, as large as a young mouse." *' Oh, uncle, I wonder he is not afraid to touch it." ** The blue-cap is not very easily frighten- ed. It will not hesitate to attack birds as large as itself, if they happen to be young or weakly, and by punching them on the head till it has broken the skull, it very soon de- stroys them. It then leisurely eats the brains, and proceeds to pick the bones, which it does so neatly, that a German naturalist proposed to employ it in the preparation of skeletons. It likes any animal matter, whether in a fresh or putrid state, and will often hover about butcher's shops, for the sake of pieces of fat, or any refuse it can find." *' But do not the blue-caps like fruit and 214 KENSINGTON GARDENS. young buds very much, uncle?" said Charles, " because the gardener at home is con- tinually setting traps for them? He says they do much mischief in destroying the bloom buds in the spring, and the fruit in autumn." ^' If the gardener were to watch the blue- caps a little more narrowly, he would proba- bly find that they were his friends, instead of his enemies. But many other people, who only observe the blue-caps pecking at the buds and fruit, are equally prejudiced against them. In some places, even rewards are offered for their destruction, and boys get four-pence for every dozen heads that they bring to the parish ofRcers. Now insects, are the principal and favourite food of the blue-cap, and when it attacks the young buds, and the fruit, it is only for the sake of the larvae which are so often inclosed in them, and the larvae would quite as certainly destroy the bud and the fruit, as the blue- cap does, in searching for its prey. Insects do not, generally J lay their eggs in the prin- cipal buds ; those buds, therefore, that the blue caps attack, can be best spared. It has even KENSINGTON GARDENS. 215 been said, by a very accurate observer, that many a tree grows twice as much in the course of the year, in consequence of the pruning which the inferior parts have received from the nipping off of the tainted buds by the blue-caps." " Then, uncle, I shall tell our gardener that he ought to spare the blue-caps," said Charles. " It is both foolish and cruel to destroy such useful little creatures. But do they never feed upon fruit, or any other vegetable food?" *' Yes, when insects fail, they live upon seeds, principally those of an oily kind, such as the seeds of the sun-flower ; and they have no objection to our garden peas, now and then, even when insects are abun- dant. In the winter, v^^hen the snow is on the ground, they will also carry oat and bar- ley straws from the ricks. It is amusing to observe them fly off with their prize to some bush or hedge, and there perch upon one foot, while with the other they hold the grain, till, by repeated strokes of their bill, they separate the grain from the husk. But all the injury they commit by these trifling 216 KENSINGTON GARDENS. depredations, is little, indeed, compared to the benefit we receive by their destruction of young caterpillars, and other insects." '* I wish I could see the nest of the blue- cap, uncle," said Charles, " I dare say it is somewhere near here." '^ Very probably, for the nests are gene- rally formed in holes of trees, or walls, and here they can make their choice of both situations. But you will not find the nest very easily, for it is purposely placed in such a manner, that the nest may not be seen at the opening of the hole. When the entrance to the hole is not suitable for the bird, he is able, if the wood be soft and rotten, to clear a passage, by continual peckings of the bill, which, as you have observed, Charles, is stout and strong, and acts like a little pick-axe. The principal part of the nest is composed of moss, and the lining of hair or feathers.'' " And what is the colour of the eggs, uncle ; because I should like to know them when I see them." ** White, with rust-coloured spots at the thick end." KENSINGTON GARDENS. 217 Charles immediately climbed the tree, upon the branches of which the blue-cap had been hopping, and peeped into every hole where he thought a nest might be hidden. Presently his uncle saw him draw his head quickly back, and then, as suddenly, he heard him call out, joyfully, that he had found the nest. He soon told his uncle how he had been startled, for the moment, by the hen- bird hissing like a snake at his approach, and that, not seeing the bird at the time, he had really thought it was a snake. He de- scribed to his uncle, how resolutely the bird defended her eggs, erecting her feathers, and biting his finger every time he held it to- wards her. " By her fierceness," replied his uncle, " I should guess that the eggs are nearly hatch- ed ; and were you to take her off her nest, she would fly back again to defend it. But do not torment the poor thing, because she bravely protects her young." As Charles descended from the tree, he said, " I wish, uncle, you could show me the great titmouse. I have often heard his cu- rious note from the top of the elm-trees, op- 6. L 218 KENSINGTON GARDENS. posite our house, and yet I can never find him. The sound is just like that of a man sawing, or filing. In the early spring, I have heard it almost all day long, but in the summer, it is only heard in the morning and evening. Is the great titmouse at all like the blue-cap?" " Yes, both are olive above, and yellow beneath, with white cheeks, but the great titmouse has a fine glossy black head, instead of blue, and a black band on the breast, from the throat downwards. It is also larger, and stouter looking than the blue- cap." " I suppose their habits are much the same," said Charles. '^ Yes, in many respects ; but the great titmouse has the character of being a great destroyer of bees, and, on that account, large numbers are annually caught and killed. The tongue of the great titmouse is curiously formed, for the capture of small insects. It is so flexible, that it can easily serve as a hook, and thus penetrate into the different cracks and crevices of the bark ; and it is also furnished at the end with four KENSINGTON GARDENS. 219 filaments, or threads, which can embrace a very minute object." " Where did you learn all these things about the titmouse, uncle?" said Charles. " Did you observe them yourself?" '^ I have watched the titmouse occasion- ally, and of course observed some of its habits," replied his uncle ; *^ but all that I have told you, and much more, you will find in a very interesting book, called * Mudie's Feathered Tribes of Great Britain.' " '* How I should like to have that book!" exclaimed Charles. " I intend to give your mamma a copy, and then, Charles, you will have an oppor- tunity of reading it. See, there is another of our winter friends, with his bright, inquiring little eye. He entertains us with his song, when almost all other birds are mute." " Oh ! the wren, that has just hopped un- der that faggot of wood. I thought, at first, uncle, that you meant the robin, whose eye is almost as bright as the wren's, and who, I think, deserves the name of a winter friend much more than the wren. The wren never seems to trust us, for though forced to come L 2 220 KENSINGTON GARDENS. ^W to our farm yards and gardens in winter, when he can no longer find flies, and insects, and worms, he hops under cover the very moment he sees he is observed. There he is again. Does he not look as if he were listening ?" ^ ^^<5^ " Yes, and now it has flown into the tree, it seems to pour forth its clear and loud song, as if it rejoiced in escaping from us. Few of our birds form a neater and prettier nest than the wren, whether placed under the projecting bank by the river's side, in the thick hawthorn hedge, or amidst the entan- gled ivy on walls and trees." " Is the nest open at the top, uncle, KENSINGTON GARDENS. 221 like the nest of the chaffinch, and hedge sparrow V " No, the upper part is completely roofed over by the bird in the form of a dome, and the entrance, which is small, is placed on the side. Mr. Rennie says, the wren is so eager while building, that, in her haste, she will frequently carry pieces of moss, nearly as large as herself. Moss is generally the principal material of the nest, while the inner part is formed of wool, hair, feathers, or other soft substances. Occasionally, how- ever, no moss at all is made use of, but dried grass, slender willow twigs, &c. The wren begins building the nest in March, and the eggs, which are white, with reddish specks, are six or eight in number." *' I am surprised the wren does not die of cold, in the winter, uncle," observed Charles, •' it seems such a delicate little creature. I suppose it keeps itself warm in the day time, by continually hopping and flying about, and shaking its little tail, which it does so con- tinually. But how can it manage to keep itself sufficiently warm at night?" '* If its nest happens to be near a house, 222 KENSINGTON GARDENS. or farm yard, it uses that as its winter habi- tation/' replied his uncle ; '* but if not, it seeks shelter in any hole it can find, either in a mud wall, the thatch of a cottage, or in any other convenient place. Notwithstanding these precautions, very severe weather will destroy numbers of them. They will crowd together in the same nook, and thus they may often be found suffocated by the snow, or chilled to death by the cold." '' I wish those in our neighbourhood would take shelter in our barns and out- houses," exclaimed Charles ; " I should be delighted to feed them in bad weather." During this conversation, Charles and his uncle quitted the direct pathway by the side of the wall, and crossed the turf. They saw three or four magpies, with their silky black and white plumage, and their long arrow-like tails, flying through the trees to the more open part of the garden ; but among the many large nests of rough basket-work, which Charles and his uncle saw high above their heads, they could not discover which were the work of the magpies. Judging merely KENSINGTON GARDENS. 223 from the exterior, they might be the nests of rooks or crows, as well as of magpies. '' Whenever I see a magpie, uncle," said Charles, " I think of the story of * Old Poz', where the magpie is found to be the thief who had stolen the poor man's money. It is very strange that magpies should like to con- ceal things that can be of no use to them. — Mamma told me that, some years ago, when she v^^as staying with a friend in the country, a magpie flew off with the key of the beer cellar, and that, after a great many searches, the key was found at last in the hole of an oak, which the people at the house knew a magpie often visited. Mamma saw the key 224 KENSINGTON GARDENS. taken out of the hole, as well as all the other odd things that the magpie had collected. There were pieces of ribbon, the neck of a broken phial, slate pencils, a ball of cotton, little pieces of tin, a glove, and many other things. Are not magpies sometimes kept in gardens for the sake of destroying the grubs V " Yes, but when thus partially tamed they lose the brightness of their plumage. The wings are usually clipped, and that of course, while it prevents them from straying, lessens their activity and enjoyment. I read the other day of a magpie that had been tamed without this precaution. It became so at- tached to its master as to return regularly home of its own accord. Unless shut up, it followed its master wherever he went, and was so fond of his caresses, that it would rub itself against him, precisely as a cat would do, until noticed. With other persons this magpie was wild and unmanageable, but with its master mild and gentle, seeming even to understand every expression of his eyes." After wandering across the gardens, Charles and his uncle directed their walk along the KENSINGTON GARDENS. 225 hedge which separates the public part from the garden of the palace. ** I think, uncle, this place is more like a park than a garden," said Charles ; *' I have not seen any flowers except the few by the lodges, and they are not worth mentioning." " No, certainly not ; but there are times when part of this garden is brilliantly gay with flowers." " Indeed ; when is that, uncle ?" " When the long rows of red and white May trees are in blossom, when the horse- chesnuts are covered with their fine flowery spikes, and the drooping laburnum displays all its deep yellow blossom." *^ How beautiful the hawthorns must look when they are in bloom ! And what abun- dance of berries there must be in the winter. It is not surprising that we hear so many birds around us ; I think they have chosen an excellent place for rearing their young. Stop one moment, uncle. Do you not hear the thrush 1 How sweetly and clearly he sings. Where can he be ? I do not see him." ''It is probably in the gardens of the L 5 226 KENSINGTON GARDENS. palace, where, among the cabbages and peas, it is likely to find a greater abundance of its favourite food, snails and slugs, than among the grass. There it is, Charles, on the highest twig of the hedge, which is bending up and down with its weight. Stand still, or you will frighten it away." " I think, uncle," whispered Charles, " that it is a handsome looking bird, although it has no bright colours about it." " Yes, the delicate cream-coloured breast shows off the dark-pointed spots, and con- trasts well with the brown colour of the upper KENSINGTON GARDENS. 227 part of the body. It has observed us, Charles, and has flown over the hedge. Perhaps it has its nest in some of the low plantations. Have you ever seen the nest of a thrush ?" *^ Once or twice, when the birds had for- saken it. I think it was made of moss and dried grass, and fine roots, and lined with horse or cow dung. It was perfectly smooth inside, and there were no feathers, hair, or wool." '' Yes, but did you observe the inner lining ? Mr. Rennie says, that though the thrush arranges the little pellets of dung with surprising skill, cementing them together with moisture from her bill, and spreading them out until she has given the nest the form of a smooth hollow cup, yet she is not content with her work until she has formed an inner lining of slips of rotten wood, well bruised and cemented together. This inner coating is not much thicker than pasteboard, but is tough and water-tight, and remarkably smooth. Every twig or straw that might hurt the tender bodies of the young birds, is carefully covered over or cemented into its proper place. The eggs, as I dare say you 228 KENSINGTON GARDENS. know, are light blue, with black spots, and there are two or three broods in the sum- mer." '* Does the male bird help in hatching the eggs, uncle V said Charles. ** Yes, frequently ; and is also very atten- tive in feeding his mate and the young ones. As his family is numerous, five or six form- ing a brood, he is forced to be industrious. The snails and slugs, feeding in the night, and retiring to their hiding places very early in the morning, the thrush is up betimes to meet them, for were he to miss them on their return, his young ones would lose many a fine meal. When collecting food for their young, the thrushes carry it in the stomachy and not in the bill ; they have the same power as pigeons of forcing it back into the bill again." '* The thrush is not a migrating bird, is it, uncle ?" said Charles. " I have seen it during the winter, and have heard it sing even in January, when the day was warm and bright." " No," replied his uncle, *' it neither mi- grates in this country nor in France, but in KENSINGTON GARDENS. 229 Lapland and Siberia, no sooner does the autumn commence, than innumerable flocks quit those countries, and proceed southwards ; some even seeking the orange and citron groves that abound in Lower Egypt. In ancient Rome thrushes were considered an excellent and delicate food, and at the pre- sent day they are equally esteemed in several parts of Europe. In the city of Dantzic alone, I have heard that there are more than eighty thousand pairs of them annually con- sumed. In the south of France, during the vintage, they are seen in the greatest abun- dance, and their flesh is considered the most delicate at that time. It is remarked that the birds frequently retire from the vineyards to repose on the neighbouring trees ; and it is said, that the riper the grapes are, the more frequently will the birds repose them- selves. They appear, as it were, intoxicated, and every kind of snare succeeds in taking them at such times. The fowlers of France make use of moveable huts, which are very convenient for killing numbers of thrushes during the vintage. The fowlers have each a hut, which they place near the tree which 230 KENSINGTON GARDENS. they consider most advantageous, and there each awaits his game, which he kills very easily." ** I think, uncle/' said Charles, who had been much interested in his uncle's account of the thrush, " that it is very pleasant to hear an account of the habits of birds just at the very time one is observing them. I wish you lived nearer to mamma, then I could often go into the woods with you, and you would help me to find out new and curious birds." " We might search in many other places besides the woods, Charles," replied his uncle. ** The open pasture, the wide bleak common, the rocky mountain, the borders of streams, and the sandy sea-shore, have each their pe- culiar inhabitants or visitants. Even if we cannot have the opportunity of seeing various kinds of birds directly we wish, yet it is wise to acquire a knowledge of their habits from books, because this knowledge will not only lead us to examine all birds with more atten- tion, but will assist us to find out the name of a bird when we see it for the first time. *' You were very much amused, Charles, KENSINGTON GARDENS. 231 the other day, when I read to you that part of the letter from my sister in America, where she describes the loud tapping noise which a woodpecker made against her porch, and which she mistook for a visitor loudly rapping at her door. Directly I had finished reading, you searched among my books on birds, to find out whether there were any English woodpeckers. Now, suppose you were to see, for the first time, a bird as large as a dove clinging to the trunk of a tree, its stiff' tail resting firmly against the trunk, and its sharply-hooked toes placed two before and two behind, enabling the bird to climb with ease, while, with a strong angular beak, it kept tapping against the bark : — would not you easily guess the name of the bird V *' Yes," said Charles, " I should be almost sure it was the Green Woodpecker. I wish I could see it, uncle. Do you think it ever frequents these gardens?" " No, I should think not," replied his uncle. *' At least I have never seen it here. It loves the thickest woods, where its plain- tive cry and its singular note, like a burst of loud laughter, as well as the repeated strokes 232 KENSINGTON GARDENS. of its bill against some worm-eaten tree, may all be heard in their turn." *' I must look on the ground for the wood- pecker as well as on the tree, uncle," said Charles, " for the account in your book says, that in spring and the early part of summer it is so fond of ants, that it may frequently be seen near an ant hill, gathering the ants up with its long horny tongue as fast as pos- sible. Oh, uncle, here is the other gate of the gardens, and our pleasant walk is ended." KENSINGTON GARDENS. 233 " Not quite/' said his uncle. *' There are many interesting things to be observed in Hyde Park. We shall probably see groups of deer feeding under the trees, and there are the fine white swans on the Serpentine, gliding along, with their dun-coloured off- spring. Besides, I dare say we shall see a few more birds, before we reach Piccadilly." Charles thought this very unlikely, and was not a little surprised, when, in crossing the more open part of the park, he heard the clear, joyous song of the sky-lark. He and his uncle stood still, to try to discover the bird, but it was some time before they saw it, like a small dusky spot, high in the air. Presently the spot increased in size, and they saw the bird, still pouring forth its loud cheerful notes, take large circuits in the air, narrowing these circuits as it came nearer to the earth, until, at the last ten or twelve feet, it darted like an arrow to the ground. It soon took flight again, and Charles observed that it flew upwards, with the same sort of screw-like curve, singing louder and louder the higher it flew. His uncle asked him if he had ever seen any larks' nests? 234 KENSINGTON GARDENS. "Yes, I have seen them between the clods of earth in the corn-fields, and also in the meadows," said Charles. " They are very rough nests, built of dry grass, and roots. The eggs are greenish white, mottled with brown spots, and there are two broods in the summer. I have seen the young birds, long before they were fledged, when they looked like little lumps of down, run along by the side of the old birds, pecking up food, and, I believe, the hen bird forces them to leave the nest to provide for them- selves entirely before they are quite fledged." " They cannot find that very difficult, where the earth happens to be loose," said his uncle ; KENSINGTON GARDENS. 235 " worms, grubs, and the eggs of insects, are then easily procured. Young larks feed prin- cipally on this kind of food. In those countries where locusts abound, and da so much injury to all kinds of vegetation, larks are found particularly useful, in destroying vast quan- tities of their eggs. The larks are, on that account, highly valued, and so far from kill- ing them by thousands, as we do in England, for a delicate meal, the people there make laws to punish any one who destroys a single lark. The older birds feed on grains, herbs, and other vegetable substances, as well as worms and insects." '^ What large flocks the sky-larks collect in, uncle!" said Charles; "in the autumn I have seen a field covered with them, and then they have suddenly taken flight together, just as the swallows do, when they assemble together to migrate. But the larks do not leave this country at any time, do they ?" " Not all of them, certainly; for we see some of them through the whole of the win- ter, and hear their song, too, whenever the weather is at all bright ; but part of the large flocks of larks that assemble in the autumn 236 KENSINGTON GARDENS. are supposed to migrate, and to spend the winter in distant regions. They have been met at sea crossing the Mediterranean, and not unfrequently they have dropped upon the decks of vessels. The island of Malta, and other eastern islands of the Mediterranean, serve them as resting places ; and they finish their voyage on the coasts of Syria and Egypt. From these countries they spread into Nubia, and over the shores of the Red Sea into Abyssinia. Their power of flight, and of sustaining themselves poised, as it were, in the air, are both surprising ; but the formation of the hinder claw prevents them from perching or seizing the branches of trees for climbing. This long claw enables them to walk with great facility. " When I was at Brighton last year, I saw a method of attracting larks, which I thought very curious. I dare say, Charles, you have seen a common toy for young children, a windmill, which is often sold in the streets for a penny or two-pence." *' Oh yes, you mean a cross piece of wood," said Charles, '^ fastened to an upright piece, with a string, which, on being pulled, sets KENSINGTON GARDENS. 237 the windmill continually twirling. On slack- ening your hold, the windmill winds up the string the contrary way, and so, by pulling and slackening the string, you may go on for ever." " Well, the fowlers make use of a very si- milar contrivance ; only, instead of the two cross pieces forming the windmill, they fasten lengthways to the top of the upright stick, a thick piece of wood, having half a dozen pieces of looking-glass, each an inch square, inserted in the upper part of it. As the sun shines, the bits of glass look, of course, very bright ; and as the man pulls the string, which he does at some distance, the piece of wood, in twirling round, forms a circle. The fowler, with his gun, immediately whistles a bird-call, to attract the birds in the neigh- bourhood, and strange to say, no sooner do they observe the shining circle than they hover over it, poising themselves in the air, absolutely as if they were waiting to be shot. As each of their companions falls by their side, the report of the gun for one moment scares them, but they return immediately, hovering over the sparkling glass, quite insensible of danger." 238 KENSINGTON GARDENS. *' How very extraordinary, uncle ! Poor birds ! It cannot matter to them which way they are destroyed, but it almost seems like cheating them, does it not ? — Here is Hyde Park-corner at last, and now, uncle, we can see no more birds, except the dingy sparrows. Yes, there is one more — the robin in the little garden of the lodge. He cares not for the noise and the bustle of all these stages, car- riages, and carts. I dare say he is fed regu^ larly, and is almost tame." " How many birds have you seen this morning?" said his uncle. *' Let me count — the Blue Cap, the Wren, the Magpie, the Thrush, the Sky-lark, and the Robin — six in all. I have liked my walk exceedingly." *^And so have I," said his uncle. 239 THE APPARENT COURSE OF THE SUN, When we see the bright sun disappear in the west. Does it find in the clouds a soft pillow of rest? Oh no ! while it leaves us in shadowy night. It is rising again with the fresh morning light : On the shores of Japan 'tis beginning to peep, While you British lasses are nodding with sleep ! At midnight while we in forgetfulness lie. And the pale twinkling stars are bespangling the sky. In China, the clocks are already at seven, In frigid Kamschatka 'tis almost eleven ; 240 APPARENT COURSE OF THE SUN. 'Tis noon in New Zealand, — the savage re- clining, Beneath the thick shade, on his fern root is dining ; The sun's evening rays are on Mexico cast. From the shores of Brazil all the daylight has past : And thus, while we slumber unconscious away. Other countries in turn feel the warmth of the day ; Where'er the sun rises, birdswarble their lays, And the dew-sprinkled flowers expand to his rays. UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. " Uncle John," said Oliver, to his un- cle, " have you ever been in Italy, and seen that terrible volcano, Mount Vesuvius V " No, Oliver," replied his uncle, " I have not, but I have seen quite as terrible a vol- cano as Vesuvius : Mount ." 6. M 242 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. " Mount Etna," interrupted Oliver, ^' I suppose you mean, uncle." " Patiently, my young friend," said Uncle John. '* I do not mean Mount Etna. The volcano that I have visited, is situated in a very cold country, where the whole surface of the ground is covered with snow, often more than three feet in depth, and the ice remains unmelted, during the greater part of the year." '^ What can you mean?" said Oliver; '^ you are laughing at me : I never heard of volcanoes in cold countries." '' Perhaps not," said his uncle ; '^ and yet what I tell you is a fact. You .must read a little more, and think a little more, and see a little more of the world, before you can know much of the wonders and curiosities that are in it." ^' When I am old enough," said Oliver, '' I shall be a sailor, and then I can easily see all the wonders ; and that will be better than troubling myself to hunt in books for an account of them." '* Now I laugh," replied his uncle. '^ The trouble of hunting in books, as you call it. UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 243 is ease, compared to the hardships and toil of a sailor's life. If you think a sailor's life is an easy one, you are much mistaken. You must prepare yourself for trouble, and dan- ger, and sufferings, such as at present you have no idea of." '* I am not afraid of hardships," said Oliver ; '* and as to danger, that gives one something to think about; so that, Uncle John, you cannot frighten me." His uncle laughed, and said, *^ I do not wish to frighten you, I only wish you to know that a sailor's life has more of toil and danger than you seem to suppose ; and that when the wind blows, and the ship is buffeted about by the waves, like a shuttlecock by a battledore, you might find hunting in books, by a warm fire, a pleasanter affair, than to be out at sea just then." " Never mind about all that now," said Oliver ; *' but tell us something, dear uncle, of this cold volcano that you have seen." " Nay, a hot volcano in a cold country," replied his uncle; " I dare say Richard knows something about it. Come here, M 2 244 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. Richard, put down your slate awhile, and help Oliver to the name of a volcano in a cold country." '* Is it situated in Europe?" asked Richard. *' Yes," said his uncle. *' You mean Mount Hecla, in Iceland," replied Richard. '* Now tell us the situation of Iceland, and then I will tell you something about the country and people," said his uncle. " Iceland," said Richard, looking at the map ; *' is a large island in the North Sea, between Greenland and Norway. It lies between 63° and 67^ of north latitude ; and IV and 270 of west longitude." ^' Very right," replied his uncle, ** and it is not above forty miles from the east coast of Greenland. The island is four hundred miles in length, and more than one hundred and sixty in breadth. It is nearly as large as Great Britain ; but I can assure you it is not so pleasant a place to live in." *' I should think not, with that volcano," said Arthur. *' I do not like those burning mountains," UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 245 ^^ Iceland appears a dismal dreary place, to a person who has been accustomed to live among corn-fields, and to see the fine elm, oak, beech, and other trees that grow here. In Iceland, there are no beautiful fields, either of corn or grass, no fine trees, no pleasant villages, nor gay flower gardens. It is a country of rocks and rugged moun- tains, and is covered with snow and ice, which, in some parts, never melt, — not to mention the lava, by which the country has been laid waste, for many miles to- gether." ^' And can such a country be inhabited ?" asked Oliver. '* Yes," said his uncle ; ^' and there are many other countries inhabited, which are still more uncomfortable ; Greenland, for instance, where the sufi'ering from cold is much greater. I spent a pleasant time in Iceland, although I felt a little uncomfort- able at first. " It was in the summer that I landed at Bessesstedr, which is one of the principal places, and on the southern coast of the island . I certainly thought the country looked very 246 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. dismal, for I was thinking of the beautiful Isle of Wight, we had left so lately. I could see nothing but barren mountains, with small spots of rank, coarse grass, and plains of lava; and although it was summer time, every here and there the snow was lying un- melted ; in some hollows, more than three feet deep. I wondered how such a place could be inhabited, just as you do, Oliver. But I soon found so many new, and curious things to look at, that I forgot the dismals which at first annoyed me. What do you think the people generally build their houses with?" '^ I do not know," said Oliver; " bricks and wood, I suppose, as usual." " Most of the houses are built of lava, and as the pieces of lava do not always join close- ly together, small bits of moss are stufted into the chinks. The roof is made of rafters of wood, or ribs of whales, upon which sods of turf are thickly laid. These houses are small, being no more than nine feet in height, and consisting only of the ground floor. Lend me your slate, Kichard, and I will draw you the ground plan of a house in Iceland." UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 247 Richard gave the slate, and Uncle John drew this plan : G r n B B B A T E u i< Where I have written the letter A," said he, '' is the entrance, is B B B. the pas- sage, which runs through the middle of the house, about six feet wide. This passage is lighted by holes, or windows in the roof; but excepting that these holes admit some light, they have not much resemblance to our win- dows. I will explain to you the whole con- trivance. Instead of glass, the people use a thin skin, which lines the stomachs of their sheep. The round holes in the roof have wooden hoops fitted into them, upon which this skin is tightly stretched ; and thus the light is admitted, and the cold air kept out. But you cannot see through the skin." ^' What ! have they no glass for their windows?" said Arthur. ''Only in the very best houses; and in 248 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. those there are but few windows made of glass. At the end of the passage, is a room, C, usually from twenty-four to twenty-eight feet long, and from twelve to sixteen feet wide, in which the women sit at their work during the day, and the master of the house sleeps at night. This is the only comfort- able room in an Iceland house; for it has a ceiling and floor, and a few small windows, sometimes made of glass, but more often of the skin I have mentioned, and the walls are lined with wainscot." '^ And what are the other four rooms used for?" asked Richard. '' The one marked D is the kitchen, E the eating room, F the dairy, and G the ser- vants' room. All these rooms have neither ceilings nor floors, and the walls are not lined. The windows are made of skin, and in the roof." " But when the rain or snow falls heavily, uncle," said Oliver, " I should think the skin would break, or soak through." •* As a defence against this, there is a wooden shutter," said his uncle, *' which the UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 249 Icelanders let down upon the window, in stormy weather." ** Then they must put themselves in the dark ; — how disagreeable !" said Arthur. ** They light their lamps, and do not grum- ble at what they cannot prevent or avoid," said his uucle. ** They have no chimneys, not even in their kitchens. The fire used for cooking, is made between three stones, on the hearth, and the smoke finds its way out through a hole in the roof." *^ I think our English houses are much more comfortable," said Oliver. ''There can be no doubt of that," replied his uncle ; '* and also that the climate of England is much pleasanter than that of Ice- laud. At the side of the dwelling-house is a stable for the cattle, and a shed for the dried fish." " But, uncle, if no wood grows in Iceland, what can the people do for fuel ?" asked Richard. " I will tell you," said his uncle. ** There is a kind of wood-coal, of a brown colour, called by the natives ' suturbrand,' which is dug out of marshy grounds. The earthy M 5 250 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. varieties of tliis suturbrand hold together, and do not rot as long as they are kept in water, but drop to pieces as soon as they are brought into the air. The fibrous kind ex- actly resembles the coal found near Bovey Tracey, in Devonshire. It is very valuable to the natives, for it yields a bright, though weak flame, and a prodigious heat; although the smell while burning is not pleasant, being sourish. It is preferred by the blacksmiths to coal, of which they sometimes obtain a small supply from the ships, — it yields so much more heat.'' '' Is this suturbrand found all over the island ?" asked Richard. '' No ; generally among the mountains^ where now not even a small shrub is to be found 'growing. I believe there is little doubt that it is wood, for on parts of it, less hardened than others, evident marks of branches, and the circles of the annual growth of the tree may be seen. The impression of leaves and bark also, is to be found in the clay which surrounds the bed of this sutur- brand. The Icelanders make use of turf and fern, likewise, as fuel, and the roots of UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 251 large trees that have been destroyed, it is supposed, by the volcanoes, and which are found in the ground a little below the sur- face. The stunted trees that grow upon the island, are used both for firing and for making furniture. Another supply of wood is obtained, in a way that you would little expect. On the north-west coast, a quantity of floating timber is drifted every year, sup- posed to come from America. This drift wood is, of course, much prized by the peo- ple, and is generally used for burning." '* Have the people any fruit trees ?" asked Arthur, " A few bushes, but no trees," said Uncle John. " I did not see above ten gardens, and I visited a large part of the island. The gooseberry bushes appeared to grow well, and to produce fine fruit; and beans, pease, and cabbages, all grow well. The Iceland summer is just long enough to allow these things to come to perfection." '' Is wheat grown in Iceland?" asked Richard. '^ No, the summer is too short to bring that to maturity. A little barley and rye 252 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. have been occasionally grown, but the growth of even these is uncertain." *^ Have the people no bread, then ?" asked Oliver. "• During my stay in Iceland," said his uncle, *' I saw no bread ; we had now and then some sour biscuits brought from Co- penhagen." " What had you to eat, I wonder?" said the boys. " Dried fish, spread with sour butter, fresh and salt fish, the flesh of bears, sheep, and oxen, and of birds, partly salted, partly smoked ; plenty of sour butter, which the people are very fond of, although it is full of hairs, for in their dairies they do not take the trouble to strain the milk through a sieve as we do in this country ; sour whey and curds, and a sort of jelly made by boil- ing the bones of fish and animals in whey till they are dissolved. These things formed our general food ; but every now and then we had a treat of shark and whale." " Oh, uncle ! shark and whale, sour hairy butter, and other sour things !" cried UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 253 Oliver and Arthur; "and could you really eat such nasty stuff?" '* Yes, I contrived to satisfy my hunger tolerably well," said their uncle ; " I only remember one thing that I could not eat, and that was fish nearly rotten, which I have seen the people eat voraciously." *' Well, uncle, with plenty of fresh fish at hand, I think the Icelanders are a very filthy people to eat rotten fish," said Oliver. " And why do they eat sour butter, and sour whey, uncle? Why should they let their food spoil before they eat it?" said Richard. ''My young friends," said Uncle John, *' the Icelanders would answer that question, by putting another to you. They would say, * Why eat food that is not ripe and good V These people only prize their butter when it has become sour. They do not use it either fresh or salted. When the butter has become sour, it will keep twenty years or longer, and the Icelanders consider it more pleasant and more wholesome too, than when eaten fresh." "How very strange!" said Oliver; "I 254 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. should not be able to eat it. If I am ever in Iceland, I shall go without butter, or I shall take some kegs of ready salted butter with me." ^* Ha, ha, ha! that would not avail you much," said his uncle. " Do you know, friend Oliver, that these people use sour butter and sour whey, not only as the sauces to their food, but they positively cook the different articles of food in them. Meat is boiled in the whey, which they call syra." " Pray tell us, uncle, what your breakfast and dinner did really consist of," said Oliver. " In the house that I stayed at," said his uncle, " we breakfasted at seven o'clock in the morning, on hard curds, mixed with new milk or with juniper berries, or on hard curdled milk, boiled till it became quite of a red colour. At two o'clock we had dinner, and then we had dried or fresh fish, with plenty of sour butter, and sometimes we had meat boiled in the syra, not a very pleasant broth. This was our common every day fare. But when the richer Icelanders invite their friends to dinner, they give the additional treat of a dessert of shark and whale." UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 255 ''What a dessert!" said the boys. " I was invited to a dinner-party one day, and the dinner and dessert were reckoned very excellent. In the middle of the table was placed a dish of dried fish, cut up into very small pieces, and at the sides some roast mutton, syra broth, and salmon ; plenty of sour butter being poured over the different dishes. When these were removed, some flesh of the shark and whale, which, from the manner of preparing it, looked like rusty bacon, was placed upon the table." " And how did this dessert, this preserved shark, taste V said Oliver. '' The little bit that I tasted, was so un- pleasant, that I took no more," replied his uncle ; " it had one good effect, it made the mutton that I had eaten appear quite deli- cious." " Now, uncle," said Oliver, " let us talk no more of their eating or way of living, but tell us about the volcano." '* Willingly," said his uncle, '' for Hecia, I must allow, was much more attractive and interesting to me, than either sour butter or shark's flesh. This volcano is only four miles 256 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. from the sea-shore, and is visible to all ships passing that way. Mount Hecla has three distinct tops. As I wished to see every thing curious in this remote and little-visited .part of the world, I determined to climb up to the highest of these three points, which is 3700 feet above the level of the sea. The state of the surrounding country shows how terrible have been the eruptions from this volcano. I travelled over fifty or sixty miles of lava, before I arrived at the foot of the mountain. With very few exceptions, the whole island appears to have been laid waste at different times with lava. Fiery eruptions, accompanied by earthquakes, are continually bursting forth in all parts of the country, and many of the snowy mountains have become volcanoes in the recollection of peo- ple living. An island of fire one night arose from the sea close by Iceland, and still re- mains." *' Mount Hecla, if I remember right, is higher than Vesuvius," said Oliver. " Yes," said his uncle ; "since the famous eruption of 1822, when eight hundred feet UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 257 of the cone of Vesuvius were blown off. Its eruptions, also, have been much more extensive. In one eruption, the ashes were thrown to the distance of one hundred and eighty miles. During my stay in Iceland, the mountain remained perfectly quiet : the smoke issuing from it, alone made known to us that it was a volcano. The eruptions have made several openings up the sides of the mountain. In most of the openings marks of boiling water are to be seen, and the steam came out so hot, that the degree of heat was beyond what could be measured by our thermometer. As we ascended, we found the mountain covered with snow." ** Did you go quite up to the top ?" said Arthur. " Yes ; and although the cold was so in- tense, that the thermometer fell to 24° below freezing point, the steam from the various holes in the mountain was hotter than we could measure. The wind, also, was so high as we approached the top, that we were sometimes obliged to lie flat on the ground to avoid being blown down frightful preci- 258 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. pices by its fury. The snow was all melted at the very top for about the space of eight yards.'^ ^* The feeling of heat and cold at the same time," said Richard, '^ must have been very strange ; for while your bodies shivered, your feet must have been quite warm." *' Has Mount Hecla had an eruption late- ly ?" asked Arthur. " I have not heard of one since 1766, when the eruption lasted from the 4th of April to the 7th of September, and de- stroyed many fields and farms. It seldom happens that the volcanoes begin to throw out fire without some previous warning. A loud rumbling noise, and cracking of the earth, and sometimes earthquakes, generally precede an eruption for several days." " Do the springs dry up as in Italy?" asked Richard. ^' When the springs and small lakes and rivulets dry up," continued his uncle, "an eruption is always considered to be impend- ing. But the first thing that is usually observed before the eruption of fire, is the cracking of the ice, which bursts, as it were. UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 259 with a dreadful noise. Then come the flames and lightnings ; and balls of fire, which issue with the smoke, may be seen many miles off. Stones are also cast out and thrown to a great distance, and last come the boiling water and lava, black pumice stones, and sand and ashes. But besides these volcanoes, there are springs of hot water in all parts of the island." " What a curious country Iceland must be," said Oliver, " to be covered during half the year with snow and ice, and yet to have springs of hot water coming out of the ground." "But so it is," said his uncle. '^ In some parts of the country, the springs issue from the ground boiling hot ; in other places the heat is more moderate, and not greater than is agreeable to drink or to use as a bath." " Do the people make any use of these springs?" said Richard. ^' They use the water for cooking, as well as for drinking, and they cool it for their cattle. But they also cook in the very springs. The day that I visited the Geyser, which is the most surprising of these foun- 260 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. tains, our dinner was cooked in one of the smaller boiling springs. We had some sal- mon and a ptarmigan boiled. The bird was cooked in six minutes. '^ "But how do the people cook in these springs?" asked Arthur, *' do they throw the fish and meat into them ?" ''That would be a curious way of cooking, friend Arthur," said his uncle. " How do you think the food could be got out again ? Is it pleasant to plunge your hands into boiling water?" "That would be like playing at snap-dra- gon for dinner," said Oliver. " Have you ever seen a party of gipsies boiling their kettle in a lane, or by the road side ? Because the same contrivance to hold the kettle is used by the Icelanders, and sticks or stakes fastened together at the top, are placed across the spring. From the top of these sticks hangs the kettle, into which, when filled with cold water, is placed the meat." " How odd !" exclaimed Oliver, " to fill the kettle with cold water, when there is plenty of hot at hand." *' Now 1 see, that you know much better UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 261 how to eat a dinner, than to dress one !" said his uncle. ** To put raw meat into boiling water, would be to spoil it ; for boiling water hardens the pores, and prevents the meat from becoming tender. If you were to plunge your meat into boiling water, you would obtain little or no juice from it, when you wanted broth or soup. You may use hot water when you wish to boil a pudding, for by hardening the outside you save the juice." *' To what height do these springs rise?" asked Richard. "The height is as various as are the colour and heat of the water. Some rose six, some nine, some eighteen and twenty- four feet, while others rose so high, as to be lost in the clouds. The hot springs at Gey- ser are the most remarkable. Here a marsh extends about half a mile in circumference, where are forty or fifty boiling springs, some spouting, and from which a great vapour ascends. In the midst of these springs, spouts an enormous fountain, by starts, at certain intervals, from twenty to sixty feet in height, with a stupendous roar." 262 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. *^ What a beautiful sight that must have been!" said Richard. '* Yes, and well worth a voyage to Ice- land/' replied Uncle John. *'The opening from which the water rose in this large spring, was perfectly round, and nineteen feet in diameter, and around it the water had formed a basin about fifty-nine feet in dia- meter, and nine feet deep. The earth trem- bles ; and noises, just like the discharge of a cannon, are heard before the boiling water spouts forth. We wanted to ascertain how deep the opening might be, but we could not succeed. The stones that we threw in, were all thrown up again into the air by the force of the water. The whole scene was so remarkable, that it will never leave my me- mory. I was told that this spring had risen to the height of sixty fathoms." " Sixty fathoms ! why, that is three hun- dred and sixty feet !" said Oliver. " Did you put the thermometer into any of these springs?" asked Richard, "and did you really find them of boiling heat ?" " In some of the springs," replied his uncle, •' the thermometer rose to 212"^ and UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 2 63 213", in others to 188°. At Geyser it stood at 212° (which is the heat of boiling water)." '' Are the Icelanders a happy people ?" asked Arthur. " Before I can answer that question, I must know what you mean by happy," said his uncle. '' I never heard any noise, such as you make at a game of romps, for the Icelanders are very grave. But people may be happy without laughing, if they are con- tented. They are seldom idle, for when the weather obliges them to be within doors, they have wool to prepare and spin and weave into cloth, which they call ' wadmal ;' and then of an evening they play at chess, and repeat wonderful tales, or read the his- tory of their island, and of the sufferings that the inhabitants have endured from cold^ and from eruptions of the volcano." " What animals have they V said Oliver. *"' Cows, sheep, pigs, horses, and a few goats. Dogs and cats are quite as abundant as in this country, and so are foxes. They have also a few rein-deer." *^ They have bears, too," said Oliver. " No, not living in the island," said his 264 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. uDcle. " But they have unpleasant visits from the white polar bear every winter. These bears arrive on the large pieces of ice which float regularly every year to the N.W. side of the island, and block up the shores." *' Where does this ice come from?" said Arthur. "From the coast of Greenland, and the North Polar Seas," said his uncle. '* This ice arrives during the winter, and generally moves away again in March. It causes great misery to the poor Icelanders, for when the quantity is large, the cold is so intense as to chill the country sufficiently to check all vegetation during the following summer, and to freeze the lakes so as to pre- vent fishing. It is frequently in large masses, which rise more than fifty feet above the level of the sea. The field ice, however, does the greatest mischief, for being only from four to eight feet thick, it comes close to the shore, and covers the whole surface of the sea. The isknd obtained its name ori- ginally from these masses of ice." ** And the Polar bear comes with this ice, uncle?" said Arthur. UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 265 "Yes, every year the bears come on the ice. Very hungry they are when they arrive, and they attack the sheep and cattle with great voracity. As soon as the people are aware that any of these intruders have ar- rived, they assemble together to go out to attack them. But as the Icelanders have few fire-arms, the battle is somewhat dan- gerous. They contrive, however, with their long spears either to drive the bears back to the ice, with which they sometimes float away again, or else to kill them. They pre- fer to kill them, because the flesh of the bear is esteemed good eating, and the skin is very useful. For this reason they will also at times go out in boats and attack the bears on the ice, before they can succeed in land- ing." " It must be fine fun to set the bears a-float again on the ice, and see them drift away," said Oliver. ** So necessary," continued his uncle, *' is the business of fishing, that not only those who live on the coast, but those who live inland, come to the sea-shore at certain sea- sons of the year to provide a store of this 6. N 266 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. their principal food. Every body is provided with a fishing dress." "What are these dresses made of?" said Arthur. '^ Of the skins of sheep or calves, well rubbed with train oil. The men fish and bring the cargoes to the women, whose busi- ness it is to dry what is to be kept for winter use. Next to fishing, they consider the care of their sheep as their most important occu- pation. In spite of the cold and the snow storms, these animals thrive well, and are generally out in the open country the best part of the winter. It is curious to see the sheep in a snow storm. I should tell you, though, that the lava thrown out by the volcanoes, together with the earthquakes, have formed large caves all over the island. To these caves the cattle and sheep retreat in stormy weather. Sometimes, however, they are caught in a storm at a distance from any places of shelter." ''Then the poor sheep are buried in the snow and are killed, I suppose," said Arthur. " No, they generally contrive to avoid that, Arthur," said his uncle. "They place UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 267 themselves all in a heap with their heads to the middle, and bent towards the ground, which prevents their being so easily buried, and also helps their owner to find them. They can remain in this situation two or three days." ^'Without eating?" said Oliver. '•' I believe so," said his uncle, " but the owner never exposes them to such a trial if he can help it. They are generally sought for, and brought home in time to prevent much suffering from hunger." ''You have told us of the fish and the cattle, but you have not said what birds they have," said Richard. " I mentioned eating a ptarmigan for my dinner, and they have woodcocks, snipes, and partridges in abundance ; fowls also, and ducks, geese, and swans, and that valuable bird called the Eider duck. The swan is a constant inhabitant of the rivers and lakes, but the Eider duck is a bird of passage, and only visits them in the summer. The eggs, flesh, and above all, the feathers of this bird, are of great use. The Eider ducks build their nests on little islands not far n2 268 UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. from the shore. They make their nest of the down which is so much prized, and which they pluck from themselves, and they cover the eggs with the same. They are so tame as to suffer the people to lift them off their nests while they take away the greater part of the eggs and down. The mother bird, when again placed on the nest, plucks fresh down from herself and lays more eggs. If she has not down sufficient, the male bird comes to her assistance, and covers the eggs with some of his down." "And do the people take all that away?" said Arthur. ** No, that would be very foolish," said his uncle. " The last eggs are left to be hatched. When the young ones come out from the shelly they only remain about an hour in the nest, and then quit it together with their mother. All the down left in the nest is, of course, taken by the natives. It is curious that so long as the female sits on the nest, the male continues on the watch near the shore ; but no sooner are the young ones hatched than he leaves them. Not so the mother, she remains with her young UNCLE JOHN IN ICELAND. 269 brood, leads them carefully out of the nest, and goes before them to the shore. When they reach the water-side, she takes them on her back and swims with them a distance of some yards, when she dives, and the young ones are left floating on the water, and are obliged to help themselves. This takes place in September." "And does not the mother come back to the poor little things ?" said Arthur. " No," said his uncle. " Both old and young are seldom seen again that year ; they move off for the season. They come again in the following June." " Is Iceland much visited by the people of other countries?" said Richard. '* No, the only trade carried on is with Denmark," replied Uncle John, *•' and it was a Danish merchant with whom I hap- pened to be acquainted who persuaded me to accompany him on an excursion thither." 270 DOG TRAY. *^ Oh, look at dog Tray ! how he springs with delight, And attentively raises his ear : — Methinks, (though at present concealed from our sight,) M^Y father, his master, draws near. We both run together; — Tray reaching the gate. Stands patiently wagging his tail. As anxious his master's return to await. As I am my father's to hail ! If papa drop his stick, or his book, or his gloves, How, swift as an arrow. Tray flies ! And, pleased beyond measure at proving his love, See him proudly return with his prize. DOG TRAY. 271 When papa returns weary, by illness opprest, Or seems out of humour with Tray, Tray lies down in silence, contented to rest, Till his master encourages play. If dogs such a tender attachment can show To the friend who supplies them with food. How great is the tribute of love that we owe. To our parents, so kind and so good ! Tray loves to feel press'd by his master's kind hand, The sound of his voice he can hear. But cannot, like us, all his words understand. And a father's instructions revere ! 272 THE BAROMETER. One evening, Mr. Harmer told his sons, Fred and George, that he intended to take them, the next day, to see Mr. Green ascend in his balloon. As he expected, the boys were exceedingly pleased, and both exclaimed with earnestness, " I hope nothing will hap- pen to disappoint us, papa. — I hope it will be a fine day to-morrow. Do you think it will be fine, papa ?" " Yes," said Mr. Harmer ; " I did not tell you of my intention, till I was almost sure that it would be fine." ** But, papa, what makes you almost sure that it will be fine to-morrow?" said George. " I can guess," said Fred ; " papa has examined the barometer, and he finds the mercury rising." " But how can he learn from that the state of the weather to-morrow?" continued George. '* I know people look at the baro- THE BAROMETER. 273 meter, to judge, as they say, of the weather, but I never heard any body explain how they could judge of the weather by examin- ing it. Will you tell me the reason, papa ?" *' Fred," said Mr. Harmer, " can you an- swer George's question?" " Yes, papa, I think I can," said Fred, ^* although it is a long time since you ex- plained the barometer to me. The mercury in the barometer rises and falls by the weight or pressure of the outward air or atmosphere, and the mercury shows the change in the weight of the air while the change is going on, and before it can be seen by us. The glass tube that contains the mercury in the barometer, is closed at the top, so that the air cannot press at the top of the mercury, but the tube is open at the bottom, and goes into a little box of mercury, just as the pipe of the pump goes into the well." '^ Oh ! now I think I understand," said George, *' the air presses upon the mercury in the box, and forces the mercury up the tube in the same manner as the air presses upon the water in the well, and forces the water up the pump." N 5 274 THE BAROMETER. '* Exactly so," said his father; " and the only difference is, that mercury being so much heavier than water, the air cannot support, or hold up so long a pipe, full of mercury, as it can of water. You recollect, I told you, that a pipe of air about thirty miles high, or the height of the atmosphere, and a pipe of water of the same size, thirty feet^ high, would be of the same weight. Well, a pipe of mercury of the same size, thirty inches high, would weigh the same as the thirty mile pipe of air, and the thirty feet pipe of water. '*Thename 'Baro-meter,' means measurer of weight. Now I will show you the dif- ferent parts of the barometer: (a) is the glass tube, which, as your brother told you, is closed at the top (b). The lower part of the tube is open, and is placed in some mercury, in the little wooden box {d). The box is closed, so that the mercury cannot fall out, but the air easily passes into the * More properly, thirty-four feet of water are equal in weight to thirty inches of mercury ; but we have preferred to say thirty feet, because the numbers thirty feet, thirty inches, and thirty miles, are more easily remembered. THE BAROMETER. I box, through the pores of the wood, and pressing on the surface of the mercury, forces it up the glass tube. The air is heavier in fine weather than in wet wea- ther, and so in fine weather the air presses the mercury up the glass tube, and in wet weather, when the air is less heavy, the mercury falls." '* But, papa," said George, '' it seems very strange that the air should [i i] /fPliv weigh more without the rain 4ISI i!ii§ than with it : how can that be?" " I have never understood how that could be," said Fred, " although I know that the mercury could not rise, as it does, in fine weather, unless the air were really heavier at that time." '* It is a difficulty to many persons," re- plied Mr. Harmer, " but I think I can make you both understand the reason, when I tell 276 THE BAROMETER. you, that the air can absorb or soak up a great deal of water, and yet the air be quite clear, just as you can dissolve salt in water, and yet the water remain quite clear. The cup of water with the salt in it must certainly weigh more with the salt than without it." " Certainly, papa," said Fred; "but still when the air is very dry and clear, one can hardly believe there is any moisture in it.'' " The air in this room is quite clear," said his father, " and yet, 1 dare say, I can show you that there is moisture even in this room, although we cannot see it." Mr. Harmer desired the boys to bring him a decanter of cold spring water, and to place it on the table. In a few minutes, the mois- ture was condensed upon the outside of the decanter, in little drops like dew. '' It has been found," said Mr. Harmer, " that a cubic foot of air, that is, a quantity of air one foot high, one foot wide, and one foot long, is capable of holding twelve grains of water, without the water being in any way perceptible. Now that cubic foot of air must of course weigh twelve grains less, if we were to take all the water from it. In Jine wea- THE BAROMETER. 277 ther the water is in the air, but in wet wea- ther, the water is coming out of the air, and falling to the ground. '' The words * Fair/ ' Change,' ' Rain/ marked on the common barometer, mislead people, because the weather is not always fair when the mercury stands at 'Fair/ nor is the weather always rainy, when the mer- cury stands at * Rain.' Indeed the proper mode of judging of the weather, is not merely to observe how high the mercury may happen to stand, but to examine whether it is lllonfei or^concrve iucUiied to Hse or fall If the surface of the mercury is round, it is inclined to rise, and we tifa i.iiii jjj^y generally expect fine wea- ther ; if the surface is hollow, it is in- clined to fall, and we may then rather ex- pect rain. ''The barometer is a truly valuable in- strument to many persons, but particularly to sailors, the success of whose operations depends so much on the weather. I re- member reading an interesting account by Dr. Arnott, of the value of the marine 278 THE BAROMETER. barometer, and as I think you will like to hear it, I will read it to you." Mr. Harmer then took down a volume from the book-case, and having searched for the word Barometer in the index, read the following passage : " The marine barometer differs from that used on shore, in having its tube contracted in one place to a very narrow bore, so as to prevent that sudden rising and falling of the mercury, which every motion of the ship would else occasion. It has not been many years in general use^ and the author was one of a numerous crew, who, probably owed their preservation to its sudden warning. It was in a southern latitude. The sun had just set with placid appearance, closing a beau- tiful afternoon, and the usual mirth of the evening watch was proceeding, when the captain's order came to prepare with all haste for a storm. The barometer had begun to fall with appalling rapidity. As yet, the oldest sailors had not even perceived a threatening in the sky, and were surprised at the extent and hurry of the preparations ; but scarcely were these preparations com- THE BAROMETER. 279 pleted, when a more awful hurricane burst upon them than the most experienced had ever braved. Nothing could withstand it ; the sails, already furled and closely bound to the yards, were riven in tatters ; even the bare yards and masts were in great part dis- abled. Such, for a few hours, was the min- gled roar of the hurricane above, of the waves around, and of the incessant peals of thunder, that no human voice could be heard, and, amidst the general consternation, even the trumpet sounded in vain. In that awful night, but for the little tube of mercury which had given the warning, neither the strength of the noble ship, nor the skill and energies of the commander, could have saved one man to tell the tale." " What a dreadful storm it must have been !" exclaimed George, as his father finished reading. " But how fortunate that they had the barometer with them !" *' Indeed it was!" said Fred; "but I think it was equally fortunate for the crew that they had a wise captain who consulted the barometer, even when the weather ap- peared so beautiful. Without his watchful- 280 THE BAROMETER. ness, the barometer would have been useless to them." ^' I have seen another kind of barometer, papa," said George, " different from yours. It has a hand like a clock. How is that made, for I have never seen any mercury in it?" " No," replied Mr. Har- mer ; " because the mercury is enclosed in the wooden case. At the back of the barometer you speak of, which is called the wheel barometer, there is a long narrow door, and when that is opened, you can see the whole construction of the barometer which is very \ simple, and easily under- \ stood. / *'The glass tube(«) which ' holds the mercury, instead of being straight as that in my barometer, is bent up at the bottom (&), but the mercury does not ran out, because the air presses upon it. A little ball (c) THE BAROMETER. 281 floats on the surface of the mercury, and a thread is fastened to the ball ; this thread is wound once round a pulley (d), and to the other end of the thread a little weight (w) is fastened. When the mercury rises in (a), it sinks in (6); and the little ball, being rather heavier than the weight (w), sinks with the mercury, and in so doing, pulls the pulley (d) round. To this pulley a hand or index (e) is fastened, and there- fore as the pulley moves, the hand moves with it." The next morning proved as fine as was expected. The boys were desirous of seeing the process of filling the balloon, and the party therefore took care to be in good time at the bowling green of the tavern from whence the balloon was to ascend. The boys had seen a print of a balloon, in the Encyclopaedia, and in that print there were a great many tubs with pipes coming from them to the balloon ; they were there- fore surprised to see no tubs in the bowling- green, and they asked their father the reason. " The gas, or air, for the balloon," replied 282 THE BAROMETER. Mr. Harmer, ** was formerly obtained at the time it was wanted, from water, sulphuric acid, and bits of iron put into tubs. The gas so obtained, is called hydrogen gas, and is thirteen times lighter than common air, and when it is confined in the balloon, if the balloon and the hydrogen gas together do not weigh so much as common air, the bal- loon will ascend. The hydrogen gas which is burnt in the street lamps, is not so pure as that made in the tubs, but it is nearly as light, and now it is found most convenient to buy the gas of the proprietors of the gas works, as the balloon has only to be con- nected with one of the gas pipes in the street, and it is filled without further trouble." Fred was just going to ask his father several questions about hydrogen gas, and whether he could not make some with his father's help, when his attention was diverted by observing that the balloon was nearly filled, and that Mr. Green was preparing to ascend. At the bottom of the balloon was a little wicker boat or car, hung by ropes to a large net which entirely covered the bal- loon. In this car Mr. Green placed two THE BAROMETER. 283 flags, some bags of sand, a mariner's com- pass, a map, a barometer, and some long ropes with grappling irons (that is, crooked iron hooks,) at the ends of the ropes. The balloon being sufficiently filled, Mr. Green stepped into the car, and every body wished him a pleasant voyage. He was very cheerful, and not at all afraid, for he had been up more than a hundred and eighty times. By his orders the ropes which held the balloon were unfastened, and held by about twelve men. Then Mr. Green took a flag in each hand, and waving them about, called out **let go!" and instantly the men let go their hold, and the balloon rose slowly and majestically ; the people waved their hats, and shouted '* huzza !" " huzza !" while Mr. Green waved his flags in return. Presently he emptied one of his bags of sand, which made the balloon lighter, and it therefore ascended rapidly; In a short time it looked like a mere speck. As the boys returned home with their father, George asked his brother what he thought all the things were for, that Mr. Green put into the car.* 284 THE BAROMETER. *^ I think I can tell the use of them all except the barometer," said Fred, *' The flags are merely to look gay and cheerful ; the sand we saw was thrown out to lighten the balloon, and make it go up higher ; the mariner's compass and the map must be to tell Mr. Green which way he is going when he is above the clouds, or in a mist ; and the grappling irons are to catch hold of a tree or a hedge, when the balloon comes to the ground, and to hold it steady while Mr. Green gets out of the car; but I do not know what can be the use of the barometer. I do not think it can be to show Mr. Green what kind of weather he is likely to have, be- cause people in balloons are generally only up one or two hours, and we are not accustomed to such sudden storms in England, as that which Dr. Arnott has described. Papa, can you tell us the reason of Mr. Green's taking up a barometer with him ?" ''Yes," said his father, "I will tell you with pleasure, if you cannot find it out your- selves. As the mercury in the barometer is kept up by the weight or pressure of the air, do you think the mercury will be kept up as THE BAROMETER. 285 high, when the barometer is carried up in a balloon to a considerable height above the surface of the earth, as when the barometer is on the ground ?" " No, papa, it cannot be/' exclaimed Fred, '* because there is not so much air to press on the surface of the mercury. There must be all that weight of air less, which is between the balloon and the Hat ground, and therefore the higher Mr. Green ascends, the lower will the mercury fall." " Well," said his father, *' and do you see what use Mr. Green may make of the know- ledge of that fact ?" " Perhaps," said Fred, '' Mr. Green has observed, or has been told, how much the mercury falls in a certain number of feet, and then if he had examined the mercury at starting, he may, by observing how much it has fallen, calculate the precise height he has reached. Ami right, papa?" " Quite right, as to the use of the ba- rometer," replied Mr. Harmer. *' The mer- cury falls more in proportion near the ground, than at very great heights, because the air is much heavier near the ground. You can 286 THE BAROMETER. imagine that if a great deal of wool were piled up very high, the wool at the bot- tom would be pressed much closer together than the wool at the top, and so it is with the air ; it is on this account that we cannot say the mercury will always fall one inch for 1000 feet, although it does so near the ground, because at the height of three miles and a half from the ground, it would only fall half an inch for 1000 feet. There are also some other considerations which make an exact calculation rather difficult, but it will be quite enough for you to remember that the mercury sinks about one inch for 1000 feet, and tV of an inch for 100 feet. The heights of mountains and various elevations are frequently taken by means of the baro- meter. Indeed, its use in this respect, was discovered before it was employed as a wea- ther glass. It was easier to observe the change in the mercury when taken to the top of a mountain, than to observe the slight alteration from the varying pressure of the air when in a stationary position." The next morning Mr. Harmer read the following paragraph from the newspaper. THE BAROMETER. 287 *' Yesterday, at one o'clock, Mr. Green as- cended in his balloon (the 183rd time) from the bowling green of the King's Arms tavern, Hampstead, and descended in safety at Croydon. When he first came near the ground, the grappling iron dragged along the surface till it caught in a bush ; just as he had drawn himself to the bush it gave way, and the balloon was nearly entangled among some tall elm trees ; by promptly throwing out some ballast, the balloon rose and cleared the trees, when he again let out some gas, and descended in a field; he called to a ploughman to catch hold of the grap- pling iron, but the man was frightened, and could render no assistance. The grappling iron eventually caught some railings, and Mr. Green having secured the balloon, got out of the car, let out all the gas, folded up his balloon, and returned to London. As the weather was very calm, the bal- loon continued in sight of London almost the whole of the way, this induced Mr. Green to ascend higher than usual. The barometer at starting, stood at thirty inches, and at his highest elevation it sunk to twenty 288 THE BAROMETER. three inches and six-tenths, which it is cal- culated indicate a height of 6838 feet, or about one mile and a quarter." *' How interesting this account is, papa," exclaimed Fred, ** after having seen the bal- loon, and had that conversation with you about the barometer. Oh ! must you go to town just yet?" continued he, as he observed his father looking for his hat and gloves. " I wished to ask you so many questions about balloons and barometers." '^ I can spare you but five minutes, Fred," replied his father, '* as the stage will be here by that time. What is it you particularly wish me to answer?" *' Do you know the greatest height that any one has ever ascended in a balloon?" said Fred. *' Yes ; I believe M. Gay Lussac, a Frenchman, remarkable for his knowledge and accurate observation, ascended, in 1804, higher than any other individual has ever done, and he reached the height of twenty three thousand feet, or more than four miles and a quarter above the level of the sea." THE BAROMETER. 289 ''Oh, papa!" exclaimed Fred, *^that is higher than the highest mountain." " No, not higher than some of the moun- tains in Asia," replied Mr. Harmer, '* but sixteen hundred feet above the summit of the Andes. The mercury in the barometer fell to less than thirteen inches. At this extraordi- nary height M. Lussac tried a variety of expe- riments upon air and other subjects, and with as much coolness and exactness, as if he had been in his own house at Paris." *' One question more, papa ; in what book can I find an account of M. Lussac's ascent?" '' In the supplement of the Encyclopaedia, where you will find many other accounts also, of different voyages in the air," replied Mr. Harmer, " and some of which, I think, you will find very interesting." 6.