Harry.—Instead of that, the light, which had before been moving along at a slow and easy pace, now began to dance as it were before me, ten times faster than before, so that instead of overtaking it, I found myself farther and farther behind. Still, however, I ran on, till I unwarily sunk up to the middle in a large bog, out of which I at last scrambled with a very great difficulty. Surprised at this, and not conceiving that any human being could pass over such a bog as this, I determined to pursue it no longer. But now I was wet and weary; the clouds had indeed rolled away, and the moon and stars began to shine. I looked around me, and could discern nothing but a wide, barren country, without so much as a tree to shelter me, or any animal in sight. I listened, in hopes of hearing a sheepbell, or the barking of a dog; but nothing met
my ear, except the shrill whistling of the wind, which blew so cold that it chilled me to the very heart. In this situation I stopped a while to consider what I should do; and raising my eyes by accident to the sky, the first object I beheld was that very constellation of Charles' Wain, and above it I discerned the Pole-star, glimmering, as it were, from the very top of heaven. Instantly a thought came into my mind; I considered, that when I had been walking along the road which led towards my uncle's house I had often observed the Pole-star full before me; therefore it occurred to me, that if I turned my back exactly upon it, and went straight forward in a contrary direction, it must lead me towards my father's house. As soon as I had formed this resolution, I began to execute it. I was persuaded I should now escape, and therefore, forgetting my fatigue, I ran along as briskly as if I had but then set out. Nor was I disappointed; for though I could see no tracks, yet, taking the greatest care always to go on in that direction, the moon afforded me light enough to avoid the pits and bogs which are found in various parts of that wild moor; and when I had travelled, as I imagined, about three miles, I heard the barking of a dog, which gave me double vigour; and going a little farther, I came to some enclosures at the skirts of the common, which I knew, so that I then with ease found my way home, after having almost despaired of doing it.
Tommy.—Indeed, then, the knowledge of the Pole-star was of very great use to you. I am determined I will make myself acquainted with all the stars in
the heavens. But did you ever find out what that light was, which danced before you in so extraordinary a manner?
Harry.—When I came home, my father told me it was what the common people called a
Jack-o'-the-lantern; and Mr Barlow has since informed me that these things are only vapours, which rise out of the earth in moist and fenny places, although they have that bright appearance; and therefore told me that many people, like me, who have taken them for a lighted candle, have followed them, as I did, into bogs and ditches.
Just as Harry had finished his story, they arrived at Mr Barlow's; and after sitting some time, and talking over the accidents of the day, the little boys retired to bed. Mr Barlow was sitting alone and reading in his parlour, when, to his great surprise, Tommy came running into the room, half undressed, and bawling out, "Sir, sir, I have found it out! they move! they move!" "What moves?" said Mr Barlow. "Why, Charles' Wain moves," answered Tommy; "I had a mind to take one peep at the sky before I went to bed, and I see that all the seven stars have moved from their places a great way higher up the sky." "Well," said Mr Barlow, "you are indeed right. You have done a vast deal to-day, and to-morrow we will talk over these things again."
When the morrow came, Tommy put Mr Barlow in mind of the story he had promised him about the people buried in the snow. Mr Barlow looked him out the book, but first said, "It is necessary to give you some explanation. The country where this
accident happened is a country full of rocks and mountains, so excessively high that the snow never melts upon their tops." "Never?" said Tommy; "not even in the summer?" "Not even in the summer. The valleys between these mountains are inhabited by a brave and industrious people; the sides of them, too, are cultivated, but the tops of the highest mountains are so extremely cold that the ice and snow never melt, but go on continually increasing. During a great part of the winter the weather is extremely cold, and the inhabitants confine themselves within their houses, which they have the art to render very comfortable. Almost all the roads are then impassable, and snow and ice afford the only prospect. But when the year begins to grow warmer, the snow is frequently thawed upon the sides of the mountains, and undermined by the torrents of water, which pour down with irresistible fury. Hence it frequently happens that such prodigious masses of snow fall down as are sufficient to bury beasts and houses, and even villages themselves, beneath them.
"It was in the neighbourhood of these prodigious mountains, which are called the Alps, that, on the 19th of March 1755, a small cluster of houses was entirely overwhelmed by two vast bodies of snow that tumbled down upon them from a greater height. All the inhabitants were then within doors, except one Joseph Rochia, and his son, a lad of fifteen, who were on the roof of their house clearing away the snow, which had fallen for three days incessantly. A priest going by to church advised them to come down, having just before observed a body