little dog deserves it," said the other; "he has seen the hare, and will not tell me which way she is gone." "Take care," replied the gentleman, in a low voice, "you don't involve yourself in a disagreeable affair; I know the other to be the son of a gentleman of great fortune in the neighbourhood;" and then turning to Harry, he said, "Why, my dear, would you not tell the gentleman which way the hare had gone, if you saw her?" "Because," answered Harry, as soon as he had recovered breath enough to speak, "I don't choose to betray the unfortunate." "This boy," said the gentleman, "is a prodigy; and it is a happy thing for you, Squire, that his age is not equal to his spirit. But you are always passionate——" At this moment the hounds recovered the scent, and bursting into a full cry, the Squire mounted his horse and galloped away, attended by all his companions.
When they were gone, Tommy came up to Harry in the most affectionate manner, and asked him how he did. "A little sore," said Harry; "but that does not signify." Tommy.—I wish I had had a pistol or a sword! Harry.—Why, what would you have done with it? T.—I would have killed that good-for-nothing man who treated you so cruelly. H.—That would have been wrong, Tommy; for I am sure he did not want to kill me. Indeed, if I had been a man, he should not have used me so; but it is all over now, and we ought to forgive our enemies, as Mr Barlow tells us Christ did; and then perhaps they may come to love us, and be sorry for what they have done. T.—But how could you
bear to be so severely whipped, without crying out? H.—Why, crying out would have done me no good at all, would it? and this is nothing to what many little boys have suffered without ever flinching, or bemoaning themselves. T.—Well, I should have thought a great deal. H.—Oh! it's nothing to what the young Spartans used to suffer. T.—Who were they? H.—Why, you must know they were a very brave set of people, that lived a great while ago; and, as they were but few in number, and were surrounded by a great many enemies, they used to endeavour to make their little boys very brave and hardy; and these little boys used to be always running about, half-naked, in the open air, and wrestling and jumping and exercising themselves; and then had very coarse food, and hard beds to lie upon, and were never pampered and indulged; and all this made them so strong and hardy, and brave, that the like was never seen. T.—What, and had they no coaches to ride in, nor sweetmeats, nor wine, nor anybody to wait upon them? H.—Oh! dear, no; their fathers thought that would spoil them, and so they all fared alike, and ate together in great rooms; and there they were taught to behave orderly and decently; and when dinner was over, they all went to play together; and, if they committed any faults, they were severely whipped; but they never minded it, and scorned to cry out, or make a wry face.
As they were conversing in this manner, they approached the village, where Tommy laid out all his money, amounting to fifteen shillings and sixpence, in buying some clothes for the little ragged
boy and his brothers, which were made up in a bundle and given to him; but he desired Harry to carry them for him. "That I will," said Harry; "but why don't you choose to carry them yourself?" Tommy.—Why, it is not fit for a gentleman to carry things himself. Harry.—Why, what hurt does it do him, if he is but strong enough? T.—I do not know; but I believe it is that he may not look like the common people. H.—Then he should not have hands, or feet, or ears, or mouth, because the common people have the same. T.—No, no; he must have all these, because they are useful. H.—And is it not useful to be able to do things for ourselves? T.—Yes; but gentlemen have others to do what they want for them. H.—Then I should think it must be a bad thing to be a gentleman. T.—Why so? H.—Because, if all were gentlemen, nobody would do anything, and then we should be all starved. T.—Starved! H.—Yes; why, you could not live, could you, without bread? T.—No; I know that very well. H.—And bread is made of a plant that grows in the earth, and it is called wheat. T.—Why, then, I would gather it and eat it. H.—Then you must do something for yourself; but that would not do, for wheat is a small hard grain, like the oats which you have sometimes given to Mr Barlow's horse; and you would not like to eat them. T.—No, certainly; but how comes bread then? H.—Why, they send the corn to the mill. T.—What is a mill? H.—What! did you never see a mill? T.—No, never; but I should like to see one, that I may know how they make bread. H.—There is one at a little distance; and if you ask Mr Barlow, he
will go with you, for he knows the miller very well. T.—That I will, for I should like to see them make bread.
As they were conversing in this manner, they heard a great outcry, and turning their heads, saw a horse that was galloping violently along, and dragging his rider along with him, who had fallen off, and, in falling, hitched his foot in the stirrup. Luckily for the person, it happened to be wet ground, and the side of a hill, which prevented the horse from going very fast, and the rider from being much hurt. But Harry, who was always prepared to do an act of humanity, even with the danger of his life, and, besides that, was a boy of extraordinary courage and agility, ran up towards a gap which he saw the horse approaching, and just as he made a little pause before vaulting over, caught him by the bridle, and effectually stopped him from proceeding. In an instant another gentleman came up, with two or three servants, who alighted from their horses, disengaged the fallen person, and set him upon his legs. He stared wildly around him for some time; as he was not materially hurt, he soon recovered his senses, and the first use he made of them was to swear at his horse, and to ask who had stopped the confounded jade. "Who?" said his friend, "why, the very little boy you used so scandalously this morning; had it not been for his dexterity and courage, that numskull of yours would have had more flaws in it than it ever had before."
The Squire considered Harry with a countenance in which shame and humiliation seemed yet to struggle with his natural insolence; but at length,
putting his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a guinea, which he offered to Harry, telling him at the same time he was very sorry for what had happened; but Harry, with a look of more contempt than he had ever been seen to assume before, rejected the present, and taking up the bundle which he had dropped at the time he had seized the Squire's horse, walked away, accompanied by his companion.
As it was not far out of their way, they agreed to call at the poor man's cottage, whom they found much better, as Mr Barlow had been there the preceding night, and given him such medicines as he judged proper for his disease. Tommy then asked for the little boy, and, on his coming in, told him that he had now brought him some clothes which he might wear without fear of being called a Frenchman, as well as some more for his little brothers. The pleasure with which they were received was so great, and the acknowledgments and blessings of the good woman and the poor man, who had just began to sit up, were so many, that little Tommy could not help shedding tears of compassion, in which he was joined by Harry. As they were returning, Tommy said that he had never spent any money with so much pleasure as that with which he had purchased clothes for this poor family; and that for the future he would take care of all the money that was given him for that purpose, instead of laying it out in eatables and playthings.