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<l/^^ A Jy1<i A i s? ? -
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{Price Ome Shilling and Sixpence.]


OF ,
The Tranfmigrations of Indur
"The Native Village
3 $
The Swallow and Tortojfe

The Trice of Pleqfure
The Goofe and Horfe
The Grafs Tribe « - - -
A Tea LeElure
The Kidnappers - - * ■?,
The Farm-yard Journal -
0n Manufactures -
The Flying Fifh - - -
A Leffbn in the Art of difiinguifhing

The Phenix and Dove
f The Manufacture of Pager
The Two Robbers .
- I37
~ 1 4 °
- ' 148

At the time when Fairies and Genii
polTeflecl the powers which they have
now loft, there lived in the country-of
the Brachmans a man named Indur > who
was diftinguifhed, not only for that
gentlenefs pf difpofition and humanity
towards air living creatures, which are
fo much cultivated among tliofe people,
hut for an infatiable curiofity refpe6ting
the nature and way-of life of all animals.
In.purfuit of knowledge of this kind he
would frequently fpend the night among
lonely rocks, or in the midit of thick
forefts; and there, under ihelter of a
Yjol. II. - B ' hanging

hanging cliff, or mounted upon a high
tree, he would watch the motions and
afrions of all the animals that feek their
prey in the night ; and remaining in the
fame fpot till the break of day, he would
obferve this tribe of creatures ^retiring <
to their dens, and'all others coming
forth to enjoy the beams of the rifing
fun. On thefe occafions, if he faw any
opportunity of exercifing his benevo
lence towards animals in diftrefs, he
never failed to make ufe of it; and-ma
ny times refcued the fmall birds from
the pitylefs hawk, and the iamb or kid ’
from the gripe of the wolf and lynx.
One day, as he was fitting on a tree in
the fore ft, a little frolicfome monkey,
in taking a great leap from one bough
to another, chanced to mifs his hold, and
fell from a great height to the ground.
As he lay there unable to move, Indur
efpied a large venomous ferpent ad
vancing to make the poor defencelefs
creature his prey. He immediately de

fcended from his poft, and taking the lit-*
tie monkey in his arms, ran with it to the
tree, and gently placed it upon a bough.
In the mean time, the enraged ferpent
purfuing him, overtook him before he
could mount the tree, and bit him in -
the leg. Prefently, the limb began to
fwell, and the effe£ts of the venom be-
>came vifible over Indur *s whole frame.
He grew faint, fiek, and pale; and link
ing on the ground, was fenfible that his
laft moments were faft approaching.
As thus he lay, he was furprifed to hear
a human voice from -the tree; and look
ing up, he beheld, on the bough where
he had placed the monkey, a beautiful
woman, who thus addreffed him
cc lndur> I am truly grieved, that thy
kindnefs to, me fhould have been the
caufe of thy deftru&ion. Know, that
in- the form of the poor monkey, it was ^
' the potent fairy Perezinda , to whom thou
gaveft fuccour. Obliged to pafs a cer
tain number of days every year under
Be the

the fhape .of''ari animal/ I had choferi
this forms and though not mortal, I.
fhould have fuffered extreme agonies
from the bite of the ferpent, hadft thou
not fo humanely affifted me. It is not
in my power, to prevent thq fatal effe£t
of the poifon: but I am able to grant
thee any wifh thou fhalt form refpefting
the future' ftate of exigence to which
thou art now haftening. Speak, then,
before it be too late, and .let me fhow
my gratitude.”— cc Great Perezinda!”
replied Indu,r 3 fc fince you defign fo boun-
teoufly to return my fervice, this is the
requeft that I make: In all my tranfmi-
grations may I retain a rational foul, with
the memory of the adventures-1 'have
gone through; and when death fets me
free from one body, may I inftantly ani
mate another in the prime of its powers
and faculties, without palling, through
the helplefs ftate of infancy.”— ff It is
granted,” anfwered the Fairy; and im
mediately breaking a fmall branch from

the tree, and breathing on it. Hie threw
it down to Indur, and bid him hold it
faft. in his hand. He did fo, and pre-
■fently expired.
Xnftantly he found himfelf in a green
valley by- the fide, of a clear , ftream s
grazing amid a herd of Antelopes. He
admired his-elegant fhape, 'fle.ek fpotted
fkin, and polifhed fpiral horns j and
drank with delight of the cool rivulet*
cropt the juicy, herb, and fported with
his ^companions, Soon, an alarm was
given of the approach of an enemy .;
. -and they all,fet off with the fwiftnefs of
the wind■ to the neighbouring irrimehfe
plains j where they were foon but of the
reach of injury. Indur was highly de
lighted with the eafe and rapidity 'of his
• motions; and fnufHng the keen air in the
defart, bounded away, fcarceJy deign
ing to touch the ground- with his feet.
This way of life went on very pleafantly
for fome time, till at length the herd
was one morning alarmed with noifes
B 3 of

of trumpets, drums, and loud fhouts, on
every fide. They ftarted, and ran firffc
to the right, then to the left, but were
continually driven back by the furround-
ing. crowd, which now appeared to be a
^whole army of htinters,-with the king .of
the country and ail His nobles, affembled
011 a folemn chafe, aftjer the manner of
the eaftern people. And now the,circle
began to clofe, and numbers of affright
ed animals of various kinds thronged
together in the centre, keeping as far
as poffible from the dangers that ap
proached them from all quarters. The
huntfmen were now come near enough
to, reach their game with their arrows;
. and the prince and his lords fhot at them'
as they paffed; and repaired, killing and
wounding great numbers. Indur and
his furviving companions feeing no other
means, of efcape, refolved to make a
bold pu(h towards that part of the ring
which was the moft weakly guarded *
and though many perilled in the at

tempt, yet.a .'few, leaping over the heads*
of the people, got clear away; and In
dur was among die number. ' But whilfb
he was fcouring over the plain, rejoic
ing, in his good fortune, andconduft, an-,
enemy fwifter than himfelf overtook
him. This was a falcon, who, let loofe-
by one of the huntfmen, dallied like
lightning after the fugitives; and : alight
ing upon the head of ' Indur r began to’
tear his eyes with his beak, and flap his
.wings over his face. Indur , terrified
and blinded, knew not which way he-
went; and inftead of proceeding ftraight.
forwards, turned rownd and came again:
towards the hunters. One of thefe,.
riding full fpeed with a javelin in his>
hand, came up to him, and-ran the-
weapon in. his fide. He fell down, and;
with repeated wounds was foon dif-
patched. '. .
7 When the flruggle of death was over a ,
Indur was equally furprifed and pleafed
on finding himfelf foaring high in the
B<4 a-ir v

8 SIXTH evening.
air, as-one of a flight of Wild-Geeje , In
their annual migration to breed in the
anStic."regions. ■■ With vaft delight he
Jprtzng forward on eafy wing-through'
the immenfe fields of air, and furveyed
beneath him extenfive trafis of earth
perpetually varying with-plains, moun
tains, rivers, lakes, and woods. At the
approach of night, the flock lighted on
the ground, and fed on the green corn
or grafs; and at day-break they were
again on wing, arranged in a regular '
wedge-like body, with an experienced
leader at their head. Thus for.many
days they continued their journey, pair
ing over countries inhabited by various
nations, till at length they arrived in the
remoteft part of Lapland, and fettled in
a wide marfhy lake, filled with numer
ous reedy iflands, and' furrounded on all
jfides with dark forefls of pine and birch.
Here, in perfect fecurity from man and
hurtful animals, they followed the great
bufinefs of breeding and providing for

their young, living plentifully upon the
inters and aquatic reptiles that abound-■
ed in this fheltered fpot.' Jndur with
great pleafure exercifed his various pow
ers, of fwimming, diving, and flyings
failing round the iflands, penetrating in- •
to every creek and bay, and vifiting the
deepeft receffes of the woods. He furv.ey-.
ed with aftonifliment the fun, inftead of'
rifing and fetting, making "a complete
' circle in the heavens, and cheering the
earth with a perpetual day. Here he
met, with innumerable tribes of kindred,
birds, varying'in iize, plumage, and
voice, but all pafiing their time in a
fimilar manner, and furnifhed with the.
fame powers .for providing food and a '
fafe retreat for themfelves and their
young. The whole lake was covered
with parties fiihing 6r fporting, and- re
founded with their loud cribs;, while the
iflands were filled with their nefts, and
new broods of young were continually
coming forth and launching upon the
. B 5 furface

furface of the waters. One day, Indur *s
curiofity having led him at a diftance
from his companions to the woody bor
der of the lake, he was near paying
dear for his heedleflhefs j for a fox, that
lay in wait among the bullies, fprung
upon him, and it was with the utmoft
difficulty that by a ftrong exertion he
broke from his hold, not without the
lofs of fome feathers.
Summer now drawing to an end, the
vaft congregation of water-fowl began
to break up; and large bodies of them
daily took their way fouth wards, to pafs
the winter in climates where the waters
are never fo frozen as to become unin
habitable by the feathered race. The
•wild-geefe to whom Indur belonged,
proceeded with their young ones by
long daily journies acrofs Sweden, the
Baltic-fea, Poland, and Turkey, to
Leffer Afia,'and finifhed their journey
at the celebrated plains on the banks of
fche Cayfter, a noted refort for their fpe-
• 1 ■ -cies

cies ever fince the age of Homer, who ■
in Tome very beautiful verfes has aefcrib-
ed the manners and a£tions of the various •
tribes of aquatic birds in that favourite
Ipot*. Here they foon recruited - from;
the fatigue of their march, and enjoyed 1
themfelves in the delicious climate .till 1
winter. This feafon, though here ex
tremely mild, yet making the means of.
fuftenance. fomewhat fearce, r they, were'
obliged to make foraging excurfions to-
the cultivated .lands in -the neighbour^-
hood. Having committed -great de
predations upon a fine-field of young:
wheat, the owner fpread a net on the
ground, in which Indur,. with feveral of:
*"Not lefs their number than: th 1 embodied cranes >
Or milk-white fwans on Aiia’s watry plains,
That o’er the windings of Cayfter’s fprings
Stretch their long necks, and clap their ruftling .
JNTow tow’r aloft, and courle in airy rounds
Now light with noife; .with- noife the' field re- -
.founds,'. - • : v ■ • - . :...
, Pop.e’s Homer..•
B: 6 his

his companions, .had the misfortune to
be caught. No mercy was fhown them,
but as they were taken out one by one,
their necks were all broken.
Indur was not immediately fenfible of
the next change- he underwent, which
was into a Dormouje , fail afleep in his the foot of a bufh. As it was
in a country where the winters are pretty
fevere, he did not awake for fome weeks 5
when a thaw having taken place, and
the fun beginning to warm the earth,
he unrolled himfelf one day, ftretched,
opened his eyes, and not being able to
niake out where he was, he roufed a fe
male companion whom he found by-his '
fide. When Ihe was'fufficiently awak
ened, and they both began to feel hun
gry, fhe led the way to a magazine of
nuts and acorns, where they made a
comfortable meal, and foon fell afleep
again. This nap having lafted a few
days, they awaked a fecond time, and
having eaten, they ventured to crawl'to
o the

the mouth of their hole, where, pulling
away fome withered grafs and leaves,
they peeped out into the open air. Af
ter taking a turn or two in,the fun, they
grew chill, and went down again, flop
ping up the entrance after them. The
cold weather returning, they took an
other long nap, till at length, fpring be
ing fairly fet in, they roufed in earneft,
and began to make daily excurfions
abroad. Their winter ftock of provi
sion being now exhaufted, they were
for fome time reduced to great ftraits,
and obliged to dig for roots and pig-nuts.
Their fare was mended as the feafon ad
vanced, and they made a neft near the
bottom of a tree, where they brought
up a. young family. They never rang
ed far* from home, nor ,afcended the
higher branches of the tree, and patted
great part of their time in (leep, even
during the midft of fummer. When .
autumn came, they ; were - bufily em
ployed in colle&iog the nuts, acorns,
â–  , - and

and other dry fruits that fell from the
trees, and laying them up in their ftore-
houfe under grdund. One day, as In-
diir was clofely engaged in this occu
pation at fome diftance from his dwell
ing, he was feized by a wild cat, who^
after tormenting him for a time, gave
him a gripe, and put him out of his
From one of the fmaileft and moft:
defencelefs of animals, Indur found him-
felf inftantly changed, into a majeftic
Elephant in a. lofty foreft of the ifle of
Ceylon. Elated with this wonderful:
advancement in the fcale of creation,.*
he ftalked along with confcious dignity,,
and furveyed with pleating. wonder his,,
own form and that, of his companions, ,
together with the rich fcenery of: the -
ever-verdant woods,, which perfumed
the air with their.; fpicy odour, ..and lifted *
their tall heads to the clouds;. Here,,
fearing no injury,. and not defiring to
do any, the gigantic herd roamed, at -
' large,.

large, feeding on the green branches
which they tore down with their trunks,
bathing in deep rivers 'during jthe heat
of the day, and repofing in the depths
of the forefts, reclined againft the maffy
trunks of trees by night. It was long
before ,Indur met with any adventure
that could lead him to doubt his fe-
curity. But one day, having penetrat
ed into a clofe entangled thicket, he
efpied, lurking under the thick covert,
a grim tyger, whofe eyes fialhed rage
and fury. Though the tyger was one
of the Jargeft of his fpecies, yet his bulk
was trifling compared to that of an ele
phant, a fingle foot of which feemed
fufficient to crufh him ; yet the. fiercer
nefs and cruelty of his looks, .his angry
growl, and grinning teeth,-{truck fome
terror into Indur. There was little
-time, however, for refledion; for when
Indur had advanced a fingle ftep, the ty
ger fettingup a roar,fprungto meethim,
attempting to feize his lifted trunk. In -

dur was dexterous enough to receive him
upon, one of his tufks, and exerting all
his flrength, threw the tyger to a great
diftance. He was fomewhat fbunned
by the fall, but recovering, renewed the
afiault with redoubled fury. Indur
: again,, and a third time, threw him off;
after which the tyger turning about,
bounded away into the midft of the
thicket. Indur drew back, and rejoin
ed his companions, with fome abate
ment in the confidence he had placed
' in his fize and ftrength, which had not ‘
prevented him from undergoing fo dan
gerous an attack.
Soon after, he joined the reil of the
herd in an expedition beyond the bounds
of the foreft, to make depredations on
fome fields of maize. They committed
great havock, devouring part, but tear
ing up and trampling down much more 5
. when the inhabitants taking the alarm,
affembled in great numbers, and with
fierce Hiouts and flaming brands drove

them back to the woods. Not con
tented with 'this, they were refdlved to
make them pay for the mifchief they
had done by taking fome - prifoners.
For this purpofe they enclofed a large
fpace among the trees with ftrong pofts
arid ftakesj bringing it to a narrower
and narrower compafs, and ending, a t
laft in a paffage only capable of admit-,
ing one elephant at a time. This Was
divided by ftrong crofs T bars which
would lift up and down., into feveral a-i
partments. They then lent out fome tame
female elephants bred to the bufinefs,
â– who approaching the -.herd'of .wild ones,
inveigled the males to follow them to
wards the inclofurts.'_ Indur was among
the firft who was decoyed by their arti
fices 3 and, with fome others following
heedlefsly, he got into the' narroweft
part of the inclofnre, oppofite to the
paffage: Here they, flood'awhile, doubt
ing whether they fhould go further. But
the females leading the way, and utter-

ing the cry of invitation, they ventured
at length to follow. When a fufficient
number was in the paffage, the bars
were let down by men placed for the
purpofe, and the elephants were fairly
caught in a trap. As foon as they were
fenfible of their fituation, they fell into
a firof rage, and with all their efforts en
deavoured to break through. . But the
hunters throwing noofes over ' them,
bound them fail with ftrong ropes and
chains to the -polls' on each fide, and
thus kept them without food or fleep for
three days when, being exhaufced with
hunger and fatigue, they gave figns of
fufficient tamenefs. .They were now let
out one by one, and bound each, of them
to two large tame elephants with riders
on their backs, and thus without refift-
a nee were led away clofe prifoners.
They were then put into feparate (ta
bles, and by proper difcipline were pre-
fently rendered quite tame and gentle. â– 
- Not long after, Indur 3 with five more,

l Transmigrations of inDur. 29
was fent over from Ceylon to the con
tinent'of India, and fold, to one of the
princes of the country. He was now
trained to all the fervices elephants 'are
there employed in; which were, to car
ry perfons on'his back in a kind of fe-
dan or litter, to draw cannon, Ihips,
and other great weights, to kneel and
rife at command, make obeifance to his
lord, and perform all the motions and
attitudes he was ordered. Thus he liv
ed a long time, well fed and careffed,
clothed in coftly trappings on days of
ceremony, and contributing to the pomp
of eaftern toyd\ty. At length a war
broke out, and Indtir came to be em
ployed in a .different fcene. After pro
per training, he was, marched, with a
number of his fellows, into the field,
bearing on his back a fmall wooden
tower, in which were placed feme fol-
diers with a fmall field-piece. They
foon came in fight of the enemy/ and
both Tides were drawn up for battle.

Indur and the reft were urged forwards
by their leaders, wondering at the fame
time at the fcene in which they were
engaged, fo contrary to their nature and
manners. J?refently all was involved in
fmoke and fire. The elephants ad
vancing, foon put to flight thofe who
were drawn up before them 3 but their
career was flopped by a battery of can
non, which played furioufly againfc
them.. Their vaft bodies offered a fair
mark to the balls, which prefendy
ftruck down fo'me, and wounded others.
'Indur received a fhot on one of' his
tuflcs, which broke it, and put him to
'fuch pain and affright, that turning
about, he ran with all fpeed over the
plain j and falling in with a body of
their own infantry, he burft through,
trampling down whole ranks ,r and fill
ing them with terror and confufion. His
leader having now loft all command
over him, and finding him, hurtful only
to his own party, applied the fharp in-
' • , ' ilrument

{fcrument he carried, to the nape of his
neck, and driving it in with all his force,
pierced his fpinal marrow, fo that' he
fell lifejefs to the ground. v
In the next ftage of his exiftence,
Indur to his great furprife found even
the vaft bulk of the elephant prodigi-
oufly; exceeded j for he was now a Whale
of the largeft lpecies, rolling in the midft
of the ar£tic feas. As he darted along,
the lafh of his tail made whirlpools in
the mighty deep. When he opened his
immenfejaws, he drew-in a flood of
brine, which, on rifing to the furface,
he fpouted out again in a rufhing foun
tain that rofe high in the air with the
, noife of a mighty catara£t. All the
other inhabitants of the ocean.feemed
,as nothing to him. He fwallowe.d, al-
moft without knowing it, whole Ihoals
of the . fmaller kinds and the larger
fwiftly turned afide at his approach.
cc Now, 5 ’ he cried to himfelf, <c what
ever other evils may await me, I am

certainly fecure from the moleftations of
other animals 5 for what is the creature
that can dare to cope with me, or mea-
fure his ftrength with mine ?” Having
faid this, he faw fwimming near him a
fifh not a quarter of his length, armed
with a dreadful row of teeth. This was
a grampus, which dire<5tly flying upon
Indur, faftened on him, and made his
great teeth meet in his flefh. Indur
roared with pain, and lafhed the fea till
it was all in a foam j but could neither
reach nor fhake off his cruel foe. He
rolled over and over, rofe and funk,
and exerted all his boafted ftrength; but
to no purpofe. At length the grampus
quitted his hold, and left him not a lit
tle mortified with the-adventure. This
was however forgotten^ and Indur re--
ceived pleafure from his new fituation,
as he roamed through the boundlefs
fields of ocean, now diving to-its very
bottom, now fhooting fwiftly to its fur-
face, and porting with his companions
9 ' m ■

in unwieldy gambols. Having chofen
a mate, he took his courfe with her'
foiithwards, and in due time brought
up two young ones, of whom he was
extremely fond. . The fummer feafon
being arrived, he more frequently than
ufual rofe to the furface, and bafking in
the fun-beams, floated unmoved with
a large part of his hugh body above the
waves. As he was thus one day-enjoy
ing a profound fleep, he was awakened
by a fharp inftrument penetrating deep
into his back. : Inftantly he fprung
away with the fwiftnefs of lightning,
and feeling the weapon ft ill flicking, he
dived into the recefles of the deep, and
ftaid there till want of air obliged him
to afcend to the furface. Here another
harpoon was plunged into him, the fmart
of which again made him fly : from his
unfeen foes; but after a fhorter courfe,
he was again compelled to rife, much
weakened by the lofs of blood, which
â–  gufhing'in a torrent, tinged the waters

as hepaffed. Another wound was in
flicted, which foon brought him almoft
lifelefs to the furface; and the line fas
tened to the firft harpoon being now
pulled in, this enormous creature was
brought, an unrefiftirig prey, to the fide
of a fhip, where he was foon quite dis
patched; and then cut to pieces.
The foul of. this hugh carcafe had
next a much narrower lodging, for In-
dur was changed into a Bee, which, with
a great multitude of its young compa
nions, was on flight in fearch of a, new
Settlement, their parents having driven
them out'of the hive, which was unable
to contain them all. After a rambling
excurfiqn, the queen, by whom all their
motions were directed, fettled on the
branch of a lofty tree. They all imme
diately cluftered round her, arid foon
formed a large black bunch, depending
from the bough. A man prefently
planting a ladder, afcended with a bee
hive, and fwept them in. After they

were quietly fettled in their new habita
tion, they.were placed on a ftand in the
garden along with fome other colonies,
and left to begin their labours. Every
fine morning, as'foon as the fun was
up, the greateft part of them fallied
forth, and roamed over t*he garden and x
the neighbouring fields in fearch of frefli
and fragrant flowers. . They firft col
lected a quantity of gluey matter, with
which they lined all the infide of their
houfe. Then they brought wax, and
beganto make their cells, building them
with the utmoft regularity, though it
was their firft attempt, and they had no
teacher. As' fail as they were built,
fome were filled with liquid honey ga
thered from the ne&aries of flowers;
and as they filled the cells, they fealed
them up with a thin covering of wax*
Iri.other cells, the*queen bee depofited
her eggs, which were to -fu-pply a new
progeny for the enfuing year; Nothing,
could be "a more pleating figKt* than to
" Vol, 11. C behold

behold on a the infedb
continually going forth to their labour,
while others were as conflantly arriving
at the mouth of the. hole, either with
yeilovy balls of wax .under their thighs,
or full of the honey which they had
drawn in with their trunks, for the pur-
pofe.of fpouting it out into the cells of
thehoney-comb. Indur felt much delight
in this ufeful and a&ive way of life, and,
was always one of the firft abroad at the
dawn, and lateft home in the evening*
On rainy and, foggy days they ffcaid at
home, and employed themfelves in fi-
nifhing their'cells, and all the neceffary
work within doors; and Indur, though
endued with human reafon, could not
but admire the readinefs.with which lie
and the reft formed the moft regular
plans of work, all correfponding in de-
Ijgn. and execution, guided by inflindl
alone. ,
The.end of autumn now approach
ing, the bees had filled their combs with
‘ honey;

honey and riothing : more'being to be
got abroad, they ftaid within doors,
paffingjnoft of their time in fleep. They
eat a little- of their ftore, but with great
frugality; and all their meals were made
in public, nolle daring to make free with
the common ftock by himfelf,_ The
owner of the hives npw came aad took
them one by one into his hands, that he-
might judge by the weight whether or
no they were full of honey. That in
which Indur .was, • proved to be ope of
the heayieft;, and it was therefore re-
folved to take the contents. For this
purpofe, one cold night, when the bees
were, all faft afleep, the hive was placed
over a the ground, in which were
put.brimftone.matches fet on fire.- The
fumes rofe. into the hive, and.fpon fuf-
focated great) part of the bees, and ftu-
pified the/iirefc,: fo that; they all fel"
from.: thexrombs. .Indur was amongft ine ■
dead.v - v v
' Heifoon revived in the form o^
' C 2, young

young Rabbit in a fpacious -warren.'
This was like 1 a populous town ; being
every where, hollowed by burrows run
ning deep, under ground, and each in
habited by One or more families. In
the evening, the warren was covered
with a vaft number of rabbits, old and
young, fome feeding, others frifking
about, an,d purfuingoneknother in wan
ton fport. - At the lead alarm, they all
hurried into the holes neared them j and 1
were in an inftarit fafe from enemies,'
who either could not follow them at all,
or if they did, were foiled in the chafe
by the numerous ways and turnings
in the earth, communicating with each
other, fo as to afford eafy means of
efcape. Indur delighted much in this
iectire and focial life; and taking a
mate, was foon the father of a numer
ous offspring. Several of the .little ones,
however, not being fufBciently careful, .
fell a prey -either to hawks and crows >
continually hovering over the warren,
/ â–  ... or

or to cats, foxes, and other wild qua
drupeds, who ufed every art to catch
them at a diftance from their holes,
//z^r him-felf r?n feveral hazards. He
was once very near being caught by a'
little dog trained for the purpole, who
, kept playing round for a conliderable
time, not feeming to attend to the rab-
bits, till having got near, he all at once
darted into the midft of them. Another
time he received fome (hot.from afportf-
; man. who lay on the watch behind a
>■ hedge adjoining the warren. 1 ■.
The number of rabbits here were fo
. great, that a hard winter coming on,
which killed moft of the vegetables, or
buried them deep under the fnow, they
were reduced to great fhraits, and many
were famiflied to death. Some turnips
and hay, however, which were laid for
-them, preferved the greater part. The.
approach of fpring renewed their fport
and pleafure ; and Jndur was made the
father of another-family. One night:,
C 3 however.

however/was fatal to them ’all. As
they were fleeping, they were alarmed
by the attack of a ferrety and running
with great fpeed to the mouth of their
burrow to efcape it, they were all caught
in nets placed over their holes. -Indur
with the reft was difpatched by a blow
on the back of the neck, and his body
was feat to the neareft market town.
His next change was into a ; young
Mafiiff, brought up in a farm yard.
Having'nearly acquired his full -fize 3 he
was Tent as a prefent to a gentleman in
the n eighbourhood, who wanted a faith
ful guard for-his houfe and grounds.
■Indur prefently attached himfelf to his
malfter and-all his family, and Ihowed
every mark of a noble and generous: na
ture. Though fierce as a lion when
ever he thought the perfons or pro
perties of his friends ihvaded, he was
as gentle as a lamb at other times, and
would-patiently fufFer any kind of free
doms frona thofe he loved. He per

mitted the children of the houfe to lug
him about, ride on his back, and ufe
him as roughly as their little hands were
capable of; never, even when.hurt,,
Ihewing his difpleafupe further than by
a low growl. He was extremely in
dulgent to all the other animals of his
fpecies in the yard; and when abroad,
would treat the impertinent barking of
little dogs with filent contempt. Once,
indeed, being provoked beyond bear
ing, not only by-the noife, but by the
fnaps of a malicious whelp, he Mdenly
feized him in his open mouth} but when
the byftanders thought that the poor cur
was goinginftantly to be devoured,' they
were equally diverted and pleafed' at
feeing Indur go to the fide of a muddy
ditch, and drop his aritagonift unhurt
into the middle of it.
~ He had, however, more ferious con-
jfii<5ts frequently to fuftain. He was ac-
cuftomed to attend the fervant on mar
ket days tQ. the neighbouring town ;
C. 4 ,, when.

when it was his office to guard the pro-
vifion cart,, while the man was making
his purchafes in the fhops. On thefe
occafions/the boldeft dogs in the ftreet
would fometimes make an onfet in a
body; and while fome of them were
engaging Indur, others would be mount
ing the cart, and pullingdovvn the meat
balkets. Indur had much ado to de
fend,himfelf and the baggage too; how
ever, he never, failed to makeTome of
the affailants pay pearly for their impu-
'dence; and by his loud barking, he
fummoned his human fellow-fervant to
his affiftance, in time to prevent their
At length his courage was exerted on
the moft important. fervice to which it
could be applied. His matter return
ing home late one evening, .was attack
ed near his own houfe by three armed
ruffians. Indur heard his voice calling,
for help, ,and inftantly flew to his relief.
Fie feized one of the villains by the

throat, brought him to -the ground, and
prefently difabled him. The mafteiv
in the mean time, was keeping off the
other two with a large flick ; but had
received feveral wounds with a cutlafs ;
and one of the men had prefented a pif
tol, and was. juft on the point of firing.
At this.moment Indur, leaving his van-
quifhed foe on the ground, rufhed for
ward, and feizing the man’s arm, made
him drop the piftol. The mafter took it
up; on which the other robber'fled. He
now advanced to him with whom Indtir
was engaged, and fired the piftol at
him.. The ball broke the man’s arm,,
and from thence entered the body of
Indur, and mortally wounded him. He
fell, but had the fatisfadtion of feeipg
his mafter remain lord of the field ; and
the fervants now coming up;, made pri-
fonersof thetwo wounded robbers.. The
mafter threw himfelf by the fide of In-
dur , and exprelfed the warmed concern,
, at the accident which had made him the ‘
C 5 caufe

eaufe of the death of the faithful animal
that had preferred his life, Jndur died,
licking his hand. i "
- So generous a nature was now no
longer to be annexed to a brutal form.
Indur, awaking as it were from a trance,
found himfelf again in the happy region
he had formerly inhabited, and recom
menced the innocent Jife of a Brach-
man. He cherifhed the memory of his
transmigrations, and handed them down
to pofterity, in'a relation from whence
b the preceding account has been ex
traded for the amufement -of my young
readers. . ,

f 35 )'
A DRAMA. - \ '
Scene— Afcattered Village almoji bidden 10'itb tress.
Enter Harford and Beaumont.
Harford. There is the place. This
is the green on which I-played many a-
d.ay with- my companions,j there are the
-tall trees-that I have fo often' climbed
for birds-' neftsj-and that is the’ pond;
where I. ufedyto fail my walnut-(hell-
boats. • Whatm-crowd of mixed fenfa- '
tions rufh on my mind!- What pleafure P
and what regret'!-' Yes.; there" is fome-
what in our* native foil that afFedls-the-
mind in a manner different: from every-
Qtlier-fceae in nature,, * : ~
G-6’ Bmmnu •

Beaumont. With you it muft be mere
ly th, for I think you can have no
attachments of friendfhip^r afFedtion iri
it, confidering your long abfence, and
the removal o'f-all your family.
Harf. No, 1 have no family connex
ions,-and indeed can fearcely be faid
ever to have had.any: for, as you know,
I.was almoft utterly neglefted after the
death of my father and mother, and
while all my elder brothers and fifters
were difperfed to one part or another,
and the little remaining' property was
difpofed of, I was left with the p.oor-
people who nurfed me, to be brought
up juft as they thought proper; and the
little penfipn that was paid for me en
tirely ceafed after a, few years, j
Beaum . Then how .were you after
wards fupported? '-..-.a-:
Harf,\ The honeft couple who had :
the care of me. continued to treat me-
with the greateft kindnefs; and poor as,
they were, not only maintained me. as’a,
‘ child

child of their own, but did all in their
power to procure me advantages more
fuited to my birth, than my deferred
•fituation. With the affiftance of the
worthy clergyman of the parifh, they
put me to in the village,
clothed me decently, and being them-
felyes fober religious perfons, took care
to keep me from vice. The obliga
tions I am under to them will/1 hope,
never be effaced from my memory, and
it is on their account alone that I have
undertaken this journey.
, Beaum. How long did you continue
with them ?
Harf, Till I was thirteen. I then felt
an irrefiftible defire to fight for my
country; and learning by accident that
a diftant relation of our fa mily was a cap
tain of a man of war, I took leave of
my worthy benefactors, and fet off to
the fea-port where he'lay, the good
people furniftiing me. in the beft man-
: ner.

ner they were able with rieceflaries for
the journey. I fhall never forget the
tenderhefs with'-which they parted with
me. It was, if poffible, beyond that of
the kindeft parents. You know my
fobfequent adventures, from the time of
my becoming a midfhipman, to my pre
fen t ftate of firfiHieutenant in the Bri
tannia. Though it is now fifteen years
lince my departure, I feel my affe&iori
for thefe good folks ftronger than ever,
and could not be eafy without taking the
firft opportunity of feeing them.
Beaum* It is a great chance if they.
' are both living.
Harf, I happened to hear by" a young
man of the village, not long firice, that
they were; but I believe much'reduced:
' in their circutnftances; ,
Beaum. Whereabouts did they live ?■
HHrf. Jiift at the turning of this cor
net. But what's this—I can’t find the
houfe—Yet l'am fur^IhaVe ndi forgot
9 the

the' fituation. Surely it rauft be pulled
down ! Oh ! my dear old friends, what
can have become of you ?
Beaum. You had beft aik that little
Harf Hark ye, my dear!—do you
know one John Beech of this place ? v
Girl, What old John Beech ? Oh
yes, very well, and Mary Beech too.
Harf. Where do they live ?
Girl. A little further on in the lane.
Harf. Did not they once live here
abouts ?
Girl . Yes, till farmer Tything pull
ed the houfe down to make his hop
Harf. Come with me to flh'ow iiie
the place, and I’ll give you.a. penny.
Girl . Yes, that I will. (’They walk on.) 1
There—that low thatched hbilfe-—and
tiiere’s Mary fpinriing at the door. '
- Harf. There, my dear (gi'vh mo'tiey,
and the girl goes aw'ay)\ HbW my hbart
beats^Surely ftiar ca'n'ribt tit iii'y
- nnrfe!

nurfe! Yes, I recoiled her now* but
: how very old and fickly llie looks.
Beaum. Fifteen years in her life, with
care and hardihip, muft go a great way
in breaking her down.
Harf. (going to the cottage door.) Good
morning, good woman; can you give
‘my companion and me fomething to
drink ? We are very thirfty with walk
ing this hot day.
■Mary Beech. I have nothing better
than water, Sir; but if you pleafe
to accept of that, I, will bring you
fome. ^
Beaum . Thank you—we will trouble
you for fome. r
Mary. Will you pleafe to walk in
out of the fun,, gentlemen j ours is
a very poor houfe indeed; but I will
find you,a feat to fit down on_, while
I draw the water.
Harf. (to Beaumont,) The fame good
creatyre as ever! let us go, in,

Scene II. — The Injide of the Cottage. An old Man fitting by
the Hearth.
Beaum. We have made bold, friend*
to trouble your wife for a little water.
John Beech . Sit down—lit down—
gentlemen. I would get up to gnre you
my chair, but I have the misfortune to
be lame,; and am aim oft blind too.
Harf. Lame and blind! Oh Beau
mont ( afide),
• John. Ay, Sir, old age will come on ;
and, God knows, we have very, little
means to fence againft it.
Beaum. What, have you nothing but
your labour to fubftft on ?-
John. We made that do, Sir, as long
as we could j but now I am hardly ca
pable of doing any thing, and my poor
wife can earn very little by fpinning, fo
we have been forced at apply to
the parifh.
Harf, To the parifh! well, I hope
they confider the fervices of your better
, ’ days,

4'2 ' SEVENTH' evening.
days, and provide for you comfort
ably. '
John. Alas, Sir! I am not much given
to complain; buc what can a {hilling.,
a^wee.k do in thefe hard times ?
Harf Little enough, indeed! And is
that all they allow you ?
John. It is, Sir; and we are not to
have that much’'longer, for they fay we
mull come into the workhoufe.
Mary (entering with the water). Here,
gentlemen. The jug is clean, if you.
can drink out of it.
' Harf. The workhoufe, do you fay ?
1 Mary. Yes, gentlemen—that makes'
my poor hufband fo uneafy-—that we
' Ihouldcome in our old days to die in a
workhoufe,. We have lived better, I
allure you-—but we were turned out of
bur little farm by the great farmer near
. the church; and fince that time we have
been growing poorer and po’orer, and:
weaker and weaker,, fo that we have
nothing to. help ourfelves with. ' J

yohti (fobbing).. To. die 'in a pari ill
workhouTe—-I can hardly bear the
thoughts of God knows beft,
and we mull fubmit.
Harf. Bu t, my good people, have
you no children or friends to affift you ?
yohn. Our children, Sir, are all dead 3
except one that is fettled a long way
.'off, and as poor as we are*
• - Beaum. ;But furely, my friends, fuch
decent people as you feenr to be. muft
have fome,body ; to protect you...
Mary. Noy Sir~-we know .nobody
’ but our neighbours*, and they think the
workhoufe good, enough for the poor.
s " /Harf. Pray, was there not a family
of‘Harfords once in - this village?
John. Yes, Sir, a long while, ago—-
but they are all dead 5 and-gone,- ; or e-lfe
-far enough from this place.
- Mary. Ay, Sir, the youngeft of them,
and- the finefi child among them,’ that
•I’ll fay for him, was nurfed in our houfe
when we lived in the old fpdt near the
- ' ■ screen.

green. , He ,was with us till, he was
thirteen, and a fweet behaved boy he
, was—I loved him as well as ever I did
any of my own children.
Harf, What became of him ? '
John, Why, Sir, he was a fine bold
'fpirited boy, though the beft tempered
creature in the world-—fo; laft war he
would be a failor, and fight the French ,
and Spaniards,,ancl away he went,; no-
; : thing could flop him, and we have ne
ver heard a word of him fince. ■ /
v::; Mary,. Ayj, heis dead or killed, I
warrant—for if he was alive and. in
England, I am fure nothing would
.keep him from coming to fee his poor
daddy and mammy, a's he ufed to. call
-us. •, Many a night hav:e I lain -.'awake!
cthinking iof him:U : •
Harf, (to, Beaum.) I can hold no
longer! ., - • :
: Beaum . (to him.).: Reftrain yourfelf
.awhile-—Well, my friends, in return
for your; kindnefs I will tell you fome

news that will pleafe you. This fame
Harford, Edward Harford . . . .
'Mary. Ay, that was his name—my
dear Ned—What of him, Sir ? Is he
John., Let the gentleman fpeak, my
dear. .
,j Bernini, Ned Harford is now alive
and well,'and a lieutenant in his majef-
ty’s navy, and ; as brave an officer as any
in the fervice. '
' 'John.. I hope you do not jeft with us,
Sir. , ,
, -•Bedurri . I do not, upon my honour.
' Mary, O thank God—thank God—
if I could but fee him ! . *
John, Ay, I with for nothing more
before I die.
Harf. Here he is—here he is—My
deareft beft benefadtors ! Here I am,
to-pay fome of the great debt of kind-
nefs I 'owe you. (Clafps Mary round the
necks and kijfes her.) ' >
'Mary , What—this gentleman my

Ned! Ay, it is, it. is—I fee it, I •
fee it. , . • ■
-John, O my old eyes!—but' I know
his voice now. . (Stretches out his hand,
which Harford grafps.)
Harf My good old man ! O that, you
could fee me, as clearly as I do you !
. : John . Enough—enough—it is you,'
and I am contented. ,
• Mary . O happy . day! —O. happy-,
day! . ' ' '^ -
Did you think I could, ,ever
forget you ?
Johu O no—I knew-: you better—
but what a long., while it is, fmce we
parted! : .
• Mary. Fifteen, .years- come Whit-
■Harf. The fir ft -time. I fet foot in
England all this long interval was three
weeks ; agOo ,
^ohj!>:\ How good you were to^comg;-
to us fo foon. v '
\Mary. : W hat; a talL-ftroag man. you *
' t, ■: : I ’ - .-are

are grown!—but 5^0u have the fame
Tweet fmile as .ever.
John. I wifh I could fee him plain—..
but. what fignifies!—-he’s here, and I
hold him by the hand. Where’s the
qther, good gentleman ?
Beaum . Here — very happy to fee
fuch worthy people made fo!
’ Ear/ He has been my deareft friend
for a great many 37-ears, and I am be
holden to him almoft' as much as to :
you two.. '
Mary* Has he ?. God blefs him and
reward him ]
Hdrf. I am grieved to think what:
you muft have fuffered from, hardfhip;
and poverty—But that is all at an end.
—no workhoufe now ! :
' John . God blefs you] then I.fhall be
happy ftiil. But-we muft, not,be bur
then fome to you.,
Harf Don’t talk of that—as long as
I have a shilling, it is my duty to give,
you fixpence of it„ Did not you take
' ' care

, care of me when all the'world forfook
me—-and treated me as your own child
when 1 had no other.parent—and Ihall ,
I ever forfake you in your old age ! Oil
never-never! s
Mary. Ay, you had always a kind
Heart of your own. I always ufed to
think our dear Ned would fome time or
other prove a bleffing to us.
Harf. You mu ft leave this poor hut,.
that is not fit to keep out the weather,
and we muft get you a fnug cottage,-
either in this village or fome other.
John. Pray, my dear Sir, let us die
in this town, as v/e have always lived in
it. And a ( s to a houfe, I believe that
where old Richard Carpenter ufed to
live is empty, if it would not be too
good for us. . ,
Harf What, the white cottage on the
green? I remember it—it is juft the
thing. You fhall remove there this
very week* t ■
’ Mary.

Maty. This is beyond all my hopes
and wifhes!
Harf. There you fhall have a little
clofe to keep a cow—,and.a girl to milk
her 3 and'take care of you both—and a
garden well flocked with herbs and roots
—and a little yard for pigs and poultry.
—and fome good new furniture for your
houfe ....
John. O too much—tt>o much !
Mary . What makes me cry fo, when
fo many good things are coming-to us ?
Harf. Who is. the landlord of that
houfe ? v .
John. Our next neighbour, lyir.
Wheatfield. ' . ' '
Harf. I’ll go and fpeak about, it di~
redly, 1 and then come to you again.
Comej Beaumont. God blefs you both I
John . God in heaven blefs you! . ..
Mary, O happy day—O happy day I ,
You 11.

T I-f.B • ■
A ( Fortoi/e "in a garden’s bound,.
An ancient inmate.of the place, •
Had left his winter-quarters under ground,
And with a fober pace
Was crawling o’er.a funny bed, ... ^
And thrufting from his Ihell his pretty toad-like
. Jtift come-from fea, a Swallow,
As to and fro he nimbly flew, ’ ,
Beat our. old racer, hollow : ■ • ■ ■ '
At length he ftopt diredl’in view, ; • , _
And faid, “ Acquaintance, brifk and gay, T .
How have you far’d this m’any^a day ?”
: “ -Thank :.(replj?dcthe" elofe- houfe-
' ■ keeper) . r .. ; ■ .
“ Since you and I lad autumn parted,
I’ve beon a-precious fleeper,
And never ftirred nor ftarted,
But in my hole I lay as fnug
As fleas within a rug;

Nor did I put my head abroad
'I ill all the fnow and icc was thaw’d/’
“ But 1 M (rejoined the bird)
“ Who love cold weather jull as well as you.
Soon as the warning blatls I heard,
Away ] flew,
And mounting in the wind,
Left gloomy winter far behind.
Diredcd by the mid-day fun,
O’er Tea and land my vent’rous courfe I fleer'd,
Nor was my diilant journey done
Till Afric’s verdant coafl appear’d.
There, all the feafon long,
I chas’d gay butterflies and gnats,
And gave my negro friends a morning fcng,
And hous’d at night among the bats.
Then, at the call offpring,
] northward turn'd my wing.
And here again her joyous meiTagc bring.’’
,f Lord ! what a deal of nccdicfs ranging;”
{Return’d the reptile grave)
'* For ever hurrying, biiftling, changing.
As ifi: were your life to fnvc !
Why need you vif:: foreign nations :
Rather like me, and fotr.e of your,
Ta’;c on; a rlcaf:.r: half-year's nap,
Secure frcm :rcuh!c r.r.d mifh.ip."
D z “ A p!c* iY

' e A pleafant nap., indeed I’’ (replied the
Swallow) -
e ‘ When I can neither fee nor fly,
The bright example I may follow :
Till then, ;in-truth, not I!
I meafureitime by its employment,
And o,nly-value life for life’s enjoyment.
As good 'be buried all at once,
As doze out half one’s days, like you, you flupid
tc I think I will take a ride”*—faid
the little Lord Linger , after breakfaft— ,
er bring me my boots, and let. my horfe ■
be brought to the door.”
The horfe was faddled, and his lord-
fhip’s fpurs were putting on.
cc No”—faid he— 1cf I’ll have my low...
chair and the ponies, and take a drive
round the park.”
The horfe was led back, and the po
nies were almoft harnefied, when his

lordfhip fent his valet to countermand
them. He would walk into the corn
field, and fee how the new pointer
hunted. ' •
tf After all”—fays he— Cf I think V
will flay at home, and play a game or
two at billiards/’ - •
He played half a game, but could
not make a ftroke to pleafe himfelf
His tutor, who was prefent, now thought
it a good opportunity to a’fk his lord-
fliip if he would read a little.
. "Why—I think—I will—for l am
tired of doing nothing. What fhall we
have ?
“ Your lordihip left off laft time in
one of the fineft paflagfes in the ^2neid.
Suppofe we finifh it.”
“Well—ay! But—no - I had ra
ther go on with Hume’s hiftory. Or—
fuppofe we do fome geography ?”
cc With-all my heart. The globes are
upon the ftudy table.”
They went to the ftudy $ and the lit--
D 3 tie

54 /. SEVEKTH .-.EVENING. -i|
tie lord, leaning upon : his elbows, look- ( j
ed at .the globe—-then twirled it. round
two or three times—and then ■ liftened
patiently while the tutor explained jbme
. of its parts andufes.' -But whilft he was
in the midfl: of a problem, “ ConQe”— '
faid his lordfhip—< f now for a little
Virgil.” • !
The book w&s brought ; and the
pupil, with a good deal of help, got
• through twenty litiesl : '
*■' Weir’—faid "hi?; -ringing the bell j
•— Cf I think we have done a good deal.
••Tom-! ‘bring-my bow--and arrows.”
The fine London-made bow' in its
green cafe, and the quiver with all its
appurtenances, were ' brought, and his I
lordiLip v/ent down to'the 'place ivhere i
the fhooting butts wete'erefted. • He |
aimed a few fliafts at the - 1 target, but mot
coming \near it, -he-(hot all the remain
der at random, and- theft -ordered' out j
his horfe. . - -•••: j
He fannteredy with a Servant at his j
j . ■ ' heelsj

heels, for-a' mile or two through'the
lanes, and came, juft as the clock ftruck
twelve, to a village-green, clofe by which
■ a fchool was kept. A ddor fieW open,
and out burft a jfhoal of boys, who,
fpreading over the green, with immo
derate vociferation, inftantly -began a
variety of fports. Some fell to marbles
—fometo trap-ball—fome to leap-frog.
In fhort, not one of the whole crew but
was eagerly employed. , Every thing
was noile, motion, and pleafure." Lord
Linger, riding {lowly up, efpied one of
his tenants fons, who had been formerly
admitted rs a playfellow' of his, -and
called- hi m from the throng. ■
“ Jack”*-—faid he : —“how do you
like fchool r’’
“ O—pretty well, my lord !”
<c What—have you a good deal of
u O no ! We have only from twelve
to two for playing and eating our din
ners 5 and then an hour before fupper.”
Du. “ That

- <f That is .very little, indeed !”■
: . ^ £C But we play heartily, when we do
.play* and work when we ■work . . Good
( by, my lord4 It is my turn to go in
at trap” •: ' Z' ^
., So faying, Jack ran off.
“ I wifh I was a fchoolboy !’ > v—cried
the little lord to himfelf.
i A Goofed who was plucking grafs up
on a commoRj thought herfelf affronted
by a Hor/e who fed near .her, and in
hilling accents thus addreffed him. * " I
am certainly a .more noble and perfe&
animal than you, for the whole range
and extent of your faculties is confined
to, one element. 1 can walk upon the.
ground as well as you j I. have befides
wings, with .which I can raifc. myfelf in

the air ; and whea I pleafe, I can fport
in ponds and lakes, and refrefh myfelf
in the cool waters: I enjoy the differ-
ent powers of a bird., a fi{h, and a-qua
druped.” '
The Horfiy, fnorting fomew.hat dif-
dainfully,. replied, fe It is true you inha
bit three elements, but you make no
very diftinguifhed figure in any one of .
them. Ifou-fly,indeed 3 but your flight
is fo heavy and clumfy, that you have
no right, to put yourfclf- on ,a level with
the lark or the fwallow-. , You ; can fwim
on the furface\of the waters^ but you'
cannot live in- them as fifhes do-;; you
, cannot/find your food, in' that element,,
nor glide fmoothly along^the bottom of
the .waves. And when you'walk,, or./
rather waddle, ; upon the ground,’, with:
your broad feet., and your long neck
ftretched out, hiffing. at every one who
paffes by, you bring upon yourfelf the
derifion .of all beholders. I confefs that
I am. only formed' to move upon the'
, D5 ground.

ground.; but how graceful is my makt f
how well turned, my litnbs ! how highly-
finiihed my whole body! how great my
; fcrength ! how aftoiiifhing my fp&ed I
I had fkr rather be confined to one ele-
' menty and be admired' in that ? than be'
^ a Goofe In- all 53

( 59 )
tfutor — George — Harry . ■
Hhfry. Pray'what is that growing.
1 on the o'tfrer fide of the hedge ? / '
George. Why it; is corn—don't you
•fee it is in ear ? -
H. Yes—but it feems' too iliort for
"corn; and the corn wq juft now paiied
is not in ear by a great deal.
G. Then I 'don’t know what it is..
Pray, Sir* will you tell us ?
Tutor: I don’t wonder you were puz^
zted afeout it. It is a fort of grafsfowh:
fo'r fiay, ‘ and? is' called fye-grajs,
' J H. Biit-h^w happens it that'it is
Vetylikecrbrii - '
D 6 r. There

2". There is no great wonder in that;
for all corn is really a kind of grafs.
And on the other .hand, if were a
Lilliputian, every fpecies of grafs would
appear to you amazing large corn/
G. Then there is no difference be
tween corn and grafs but the fize ?
jC. None at all.
H. But we eat corn; and grafs is not
good to eat.
T’./.It is only the feeds of corn; that
we eat. We leave the flalks : and leaves
for cows and horfes. Now we might
eat the feeds of grafs, if they were big
enough to be worth gathering; . and
fome particular kinds are in fad eaten
in certain countries.
H. But; is wheat and barley really
grafs ?
C T. Yes—they are a fpecies of that
great family ,of-plants* Which botanlfts-
call grajjes-y and I wilhtake this opp.prtu-
, nity of telling you fomethinga^out them.
Go, George, and pblK ; us up a roo.t of

TH E . GRASS Ryj£.
that rye-grafs. Harry and I will fit down
on this ftile till you come to “us.
■ .H.- Here is grafs enough all round
us. ■
T. Well then—pull up a few roots
that you fee in. ear.
,G. Here is the grafs,
H. And here is mine.
, 3". Well—fp re ad them all in a hand
kerchief before us. Now look at the roots
.of them all. call them ?
; Q. I think they, are what you have
told us are fibrous- roots.
c t. Right—they confift of a bundle of
firings. : Then look _ at i their ftalks—~
you will find them jointed and hollow,
like the ftraw of corn.
' H\ So they are.
-T.‘The leaves, you fee, of all th l e
kinds are very long and narrow, taper
ing to a point at their ends. Thofe of
“corn,’you know,, are the fame. _
! H.;yes-~-they are. fo' like ' g'rafs' kt
' ; firfi\>

'62 TiTGHT^'E^&'NTNG';
firOri tTiat I can' never' tell the 'differ-
.ence. * - * -
T. •Next obferve'the ears* or heads.
Some of thefe, you fee, are thick and
clofe, exadlly like thofe of wheat or bar
ley j others are more, loofe and '-open,
like oats. The firft are' generally called
Jpikes ; the Jecond, panicles. If you ex
amine them clofely, you will find that
they all con.fift of a number of diftintt
hufky bodies, which" are property the
flowers; each of which is fucceeded by
a fingle feed. I dare fay you have
picked ears of whe,at.
H. O yes—I am very fond of them.
2". Well then—you found that the
grains all lay fingle, contained in a fcal'y
hufk, making a part of the ear,, or head.
Before the feed was formed, there was
a flower in its place, I do not mean a
gay fine-coloured Jiower, but a few fcales-
with .threads coming out among them,,
each crowned with a white tip. And

THE. i GRASS * TRI 3 JE. 63
fdon after the' ears of corn appear, you:
Will find their flowers open, and t-hefe
white tips coming out of them. This
is the ftru6ture of the flowers arid flow
ering heads of.'every one of .the grafs
tribe. .
G. But what are the beards of corn ?
C T. The beards are bridles or points
running out from the ends of the hulks*
• They are properly called awns , Moft
of the grafs’ tribe have fomething of
thefe, but they, are much longer in fome
kinds than in others.' In barley, you
know, they are very long, and give, the
whole field a fort of downy or filky ap
pearance, efpecially when waved by
the wind.
H. Ar.e.there the lame kinds, of com
and-grafs in all countries ? •
T. No. With refped to corn, that is
in all countries the prbdufl. of cultiva-
. tion j ; and different forts are* found beft
to fuit different climates. Thus in the
northern parts of the temperate zone,

• oats, and rye are chiefly grown. In the-
middle and fouthern, barley and wheat*.
"Wheat is univerfally the fpecies pre
ferred for bread-corn; but there are va
rious kinds of it, differing from each
other in fize of grain, firmnefs, colour,
and other qualities. ,
Ii. Does not the beft wheat of all;
grow in England ? ,-
jT. By no means. Wheat is better'
fuited to the warmer climates, and it is-
only by great attention and upon parti-
..cular foils that it is-made to fucceed well
here. On the otlier hand, the torrid zone
is too hot for wheat and our other
grainsand' they chiefly cultivate rice
there, and Indian corn. <
G\ I have feen heads of Indian corn,,
as thick as my, wrift, but they, do not
look-at-all like our corn. ■ . /
2". Yes—the feeds all grow Angle in
& fort of chaffy head ; and the ftalk and'
leaves^ refemble thofe of the grafs tribe,
but of a gigantic fize. But there, are

other plants of this family, which per
haps you have not thought of.
G; W hat are they ? . ' , ;
T. Canes and reeds—from the fugar-
cane and bamboo of the tropics, to the
common reed of our ditches, of which
you make arrows. All thefe have the
^general chara&er of the graffes.
li. I know that reeds have very fine
feathery heads, like the tops of grafs.
. TVrThey have fo. And the flalks .
are compofed of many joints; as are
alfo thofe of the fugar-cane, and . the
bamboo, of which fifhing rods and
walking flicks are, often made. Some
of thefe are very,,tall plants, but the feeds
of them are fmall in ,proportion, and not
lifefuL But there is yet another
kind of grafs-like plants common , a-.
, mong us. ( ;
G. t ' What is that ?
T. Have, you not obferved-, in the
roarfhesy.andjou the fides of ditehesjj a;
coarfe broader leaved, fort of grafs, .with,
-1 * large . .

large da'fk coloured -fpikes ? This is
Jedge , in Latin' carvx^ and -there are
many forts of it. <' - v -
■ H. What is-that good for?
' TV 11 is eaten by cattle, both frefh and
dry •, but-is'inferior in quality to good
-grafs. •" /
; G. What is it that makes one kind of
-grafs better than another ? '
• ST. -There are various properties which
■give value to-grafTe's; Some fpread more
thkn others-, ; refift-froft stnd drought bet-
[ yield' a - greater crop of leaves,-'a'nd
are therefore better for pafturage- and hay*
The juices of forrre-are'more' nouri filing
‘and Tweeter - tharf, others. In * general,
however, different Agrafes 'are* Ttiitkl to
different foils; and by improving'foils,
■ffie quality -of the grafs is
> G. Does grafs grow in afl ccvuntrie's'?
T. Yes—the green* "turf which na
turally covets : fe?t life : fjiVin. ail countries,
rs ehi'6'fly 1 colnpofed ofgrafies* of various
^ih’ds.^^'Thty-forrii, theiefore, fhe'ver-
■ dant

dant. carpet Extended over r the i earth-;
and humble as ; they are, they contribute
.■more to beauty' and rutiiitj^- /thanv-any
other part of the vegetable creation.^
What—more than trees?
; T. .Yes, certainly. A land entirely
xov.ered with trees would be gloomy,
,unwholefome, ^and fcarcely inhabitable j
whereas the meadow, the down,! and
the corn field, afford the moft agreeable
profpe&s to the eye, and furnifh every
neceffary, and many of the luxuries of
life. . Give us corn >and- grafs, and what
fhall we want for food ?
H. Let me fee—what fhould we
have? There’s, bread, and flour for
puddings. > .
■ . G. Ay, rand, milk, for you know
cows live on:grafs and hay—fo there’s
cheefe-and butter, - and all ^things that
are made of milk. - - . ...
T. And are there not all kinds of
meat too, and poultry ?-. And then for
drink, there is beer and ale, which'are
■ ' made

made from barley. For all thefe we arc
chieflyindebted to the gvaffes,
G . Thenl am fure we are very much
obliged to the graffes.
T, Well—let us now walk home-'
wards. Some time hence you Ihall
make a colle&ion of all the kinds of
grafTes, and learn to know them from
each-"other. ■ ' • '• :
•; tutor—VupiU
tut. Come—the tea is ready. Lay
by your book, and let us talk a little,'
You have affiHed in tea-making a great
many times, and yet I dare fay you ne
ver conlidered what kind of an opera
tion it was.
Pup, • An operation of cookery—is k
. tilt* •

Tut. You may call it fo; but it is
properly an operation of chemiftry .
Pup. Of chemiftry ? I thought that
had been a very deep fort of a bufinefs.
Tut. O—there are many things in
common life that belong to the deep-
eft of fciences. Making tea is the 'che
mical operation called infufton , which is,
when a hot liquor is poured upon a
fubftance in order to extrad fomething
from it. The water, you fee, extrads
from the tea-leaves their colour,, tafte,
and’ flavour. ,
Pup. Would not cold water do the
fame? -
Tut. It would, but more flowly. Heat
afiifts almoft all liquors in their power
of extracting the virtues of herbs and
other fubftances. ■ Thus good houfe-
wives were, formerly ufed to boil their
tea, in order to get all the goodnefs
from it as completely as poftible. The
greater heat and agitation of boiling
makes it ad more powerfully. The
3 liquor

liquor in which a fubftance has been
boiled is 'called a decoSiion of that fub
ftance.- -
Pup. Then we had a decoction of
muttoni at dinner torday 1 . ^
Tut. We had—broth is a decoction,
and fo are: gruel andrbarley-water. But
when any £hing is putto ? fteep in a cold
liquor, it is called maceration. The in
gredients of which ink, is, ; fpade ar.e.^.-
terated. : In all thefe cafes* 'you fee, the
■whole' fubftance does; not/ipix with the,
liquor, but only part of it. The rea-
fon is, ; , that part of it, is Joluble in.
quor, and part not. f :;
Pup. What is the meaning ,of that ?
Tut. Solution js when a folid^put into
a fluid entirely difappearis in ,it,Jeaving
the liquor 0 clear. ’ Thus when-1 throw
this lump of fugar into my tea, you fee
it gradually waftes away till it is all gone;
and then I can tafte it’ in every fingle
drop ofmyrtea j but the- tea.-is clear as
before. r- : • • •
■' 8 . ■ ’ Pup,

Pup. Salt would do the fame.
Tut’. ;It would. But if I were:to:tbrow
in a lump of chalk, it would lie undif-
folved at the bottom.
Pup, But it would; make the water
white, , ' ' s’ —
Tut. : True*. Awhile, it wag llirred 5 and.
then it would be a 1 diffufion. But while
the chalk was. thus • mixed with the li
quor, it would lofe its. transparency, a^d,
not : recover it : agai'Oj till by (landing
the chalk had all fubfidedj and left the
liquor as it was before.
Pup. Flow is the cream. mixed with
the tea.? . ;■
. ; .Tuh Why, : ; t ; hat is on\f dijfyfetfi for
it, takes ; away the transparency of the
tea. But the pa,i*tic]es; of cream being
finer.,and lighter.-than/,thofe of chalk, it
remains longer united with the liquor.
However, in time, the cream would' Se
parate too, andxife to., the top,,; leaving
the tea clear. Now, fuppofe you had
a mixture, of Sugar,. fait, chalk, and tea-

7 eighth evening *
leaves, and were-to throw it into Water,
either hot or cold-what would be the
effea? • -
Pup. The fugar and fait would melt
and difappear. The tea-leaves would
yield their colour and tafte. The chalk
—I do not know what would become
of that. . ' ;
‘Tut. Why, if the mixture were ftirred,
the chalk would be diffufed through it,
and make it turbid or- muddy; but ; on ;
{landing, it would leave it unchanged. :
Pup, Then there would remain at
bottom the chalk and tea-leaves ?
T'ut. Yes. The clear- liquor would
contain mjolution fait, fugar, and thofe
particles of the tea, in which its colour
and tafte confifted: the remainder 1 of
the tea and the chalk would lie undif-
folvedi ~ :: : , ; ’
Pup. Then I Juppofe tea-leaves, after
the tea is made, are lighter than at firft.
s Tut. ’Undoubtedly. If taken out and
dried they would be'found; to have loft
x part.'

part of their weight,, and the water
would ^have gained it.. Sometimes,
, however, it is an extremely fmall portion
of a fubftance which is folut)le, but it is
that in which its mod remarkable qua
lities refide. Thus a fmall piece of
ipice will communicate a ftrong flavour
to a large quantity of liquid, with very
little lofs of weight.
Pupj, Will all liquors diffolve the ,
fame things?
Tut, By no means. ,Many diffolve
in water, that will not in fpirit of wine j
and the contrary. And upon this dif
ference many curious matters in the arts
are founded. Thus, fpirit varnifh is
made of a folution of various gums or
refins in fpirits that will not diffolve in
water. Therefore, when it has been
laid over any furface with a brufh/ and
is become dry, the rain or moifture of 1
the air will' not affedt it. This is the
cafe with the: beautiful varnifh laid
upon coaches. On the other hand, the
You/II/ â–  E ' varnifc

varnifli left by gum-water could not be
\yalhed off by fpirits.
Pup . I remember when I made gum-
water, upon fetting the cup in a warm
place, it all dried away, and left the gum
juft as if was before. Would the fame,
happen if I had fugar or fait diffolved
in water ?
2 *uti Yes—upon expofmg the folu-
tion to warmth, it would dry away, and
you would get back your fait or fugar
in a folid ftate as before.
Pup. But if I were to do fo with a
cup of tea, what fhould I get ?
Tut. Not tea-leaves, certainly! But,
your queftion requires a little previous
explanation. 11 is the pr operty of heat
to make moil things fly off in vapour,
which is called evaporation or exhalation.
But this it does in very different’degrees
to different fubftances. ■ Some are very
-eafily made to. evaporate ; others very
difficultly; and others not at all by the
moft violent fire we can raife. Fluids,

in general, are eafily ev'apdrdble; but
not equally fo. Spirit's of wine fly off
in vapour much fooner than water i fo
that if you had a mixture of the two,
by applying a gentle heat you might
drive off all the fpirits,. and leave N the _
Water pure. Water, again, 1 is more
evaporable than oil. Some folid fub-
ftances are much difpofed to evaporate.
Thus, fmeliing falts by a little heat may
entirely be driven away in the air. But
in general, folid s are more fixed than
fluids; and therefore when a folid is dif- /
folved in a fluid, it may commonly be
recovered again by evaporation. By
this operation common fait is got from
fea-water and fait fprings, both artifi
cially, and in hot countries by the na
tural heat of the fun. When the water •
is no - more than is juft fuffieierit to dif-
fpl've the fait it- is called' a JaturatedJo-
lution'j and on evaporating the’water fur
ther, the fait begins to feparate, form-
1 ing little regular rfiaffes called cryfiah .
E 2 Sugar

Sugar may be made in like manner t®
form cryftals,- and then it is fugar-
( j Pup. But what is a fyrup ?
Tut. That is, when fo much fugar is
1 diffolved as fenfibly to thicken the li
quor, but hot to fep.arate from it. Well
—now to your queftion about tea. On
expofing it to confiderable heat, thofe
fine^particles in which its flavour con-
fifts, being .as volatile or evaporable as
the water, would fly off along \yith it j
and when the liquor came to dryneis,
there would only be left thofe particles
in which its roughnefs and colour con- '
This would make what is called
an extract of a plant.
Pup. What becomes of ,the water
, that evaporates ?
Tut. It afcends. into the air,- and unites
with it. But if in its way it be flopped
by any cold body, it is condenfed that '
is, it returns to the ftate of water again.
Lift up the lid of the tea-pot, and you

will fee water colie&ed on the infide of
it,, which is condenfed fleam from the
hot tea beneath. Hold a fpoon or knife
in the way of the fleam which burfls
out from the fpout of the tea-kettle, and
you will find it immediately covered
with drops. This operation of turning
a fluid into vapour, and then condenf-
ing it, is, called dijlillatim. For this
purpofe, the veflel in which the liquor
is heated /is clofely covered with another
called the head, into which the fleam
rifes, and is condenfed. It is then drawn
off by means of a pipe into another vef
fel called the receiver. In this way all
fweet fcented and aromatic liquors are'
drawn ’from fragrant vegetables, by
means of water or fpirits. - The fra
grant part, being very volatile,' rifes
along with the fleam ' of the water or
fpirit, and remains united with it after it
is condenfed. Rofe-water and fpirit of
lavender are liquors of this kind.
J?u$, Then the water collefled on the
. E 3. infide-

infide of the tea-pot lid fhould have
the fragrance of the tea ? ■;
' Tut. It fhould—-But unlefs the tea
were'fine, you could fearcely perceive it.
Vupy I think I have heard of making
lalt-water frefh by diftilling. ' ,
Tut. Yes. That is an old difcovery
lately revived. The fait in fea-water,-
being of a fixed nature, does not rife
with the fteam j and therefore, on con-
denfmg the fteam, the water is found to
be frefh. And this indeed is the me
thod nature employs in raifing water
by exhalation from the ’ ocean, which
colledting into clouds, is condenfed in
the cold regions of the air, and falls
down in rain.
■fiut- our. tea is done 3 fo.we will now
put an end to our chemical le&ure.
Fup._ But is this real chemiftry ?
Tut. Yes, it is. .
Pup . Why, I underftand it all with
out any difficulty.
Tut, I intended you fhould.
, the

Mr. B. Was accuftomed to read in
the evening to his young folks fome, fe
ted ftory, and then aik them in turn
wh at they thought of it. From the re
flexions they made on thefe occafions,
he was enabled to form a judgment,of
their difpofitions, and was led to throw
in remarks of his own, by which their
hearts and underftandings might be imr
proved. . One night,he read the follow
ing narrative from Churchill's Voyage
<c In f^me voyages of difcovery made
from Denmark to Greenland, the fail-
' ors were m'ftru&ed to feize fome of the
natives by force or ftratagem, and bring
them away. In confequence of thefe
orders, feverai Greenlanders were kid
napped and brought to Denmark.
Though they were treated there with
kindnefs, the poor wretches were always
melancholy, and were obferved fre^-
- . E 4 quently

quently to turn their faces towards the
north, and figh bitterly. They made
feveral attempts to efcape, by putting
put to fea in their little canoes which
had been brought with them. One of
them had got as far as thirty leagues
from land before he was overtaken., It
was remarked, that this poor man,
whenever he met a woman with a child
in her arms, ufed to utter a deep figh j
whence it was conje&ured that he had
left a wife and child behind him. They
all pined away one after another, and
died miferably.”-
Now, Edward (faid he), what is your
opinion of this ftory ?
Edward. Poor creatures! I think it
was very barbarous to take them from
Mr. B. It was, indeed !
Ed. Have civilized nations a^y right
to behave fo to favages ?
'Mr.. B. I think you may readily an-
fwer that queftion yourfelf. Suppofc

,you’ were a favage-—what would be your
opinion ?
Ed. I dare fay I (hould think it very
wrong. But can favages think about
, right and wrong as we do ?’
Mr. B. Why not! are' they /not
men ?
x Ed. Yes;—but not like civilized men',,
- Mr. B. I. know no important differ
ence between ourfelves andi thofe peo
ple we are • pleafed to call favage;, but
in the degree- of knowledge and: virtue
poffeffed by each. And I believe-many
. individuals among the- Greenlanders, as
well as other unpoliihed people, exceed
in.thefe refpe&s many among us. In
the prefenc cafe, I am fure the Dani/h;
failors fhowed themfelves the greater
favages. , ^
Ed. But what did they take away the;
Greenlanders for ?
Mr. B. The pretence was- 5 tHat they.
might be brought to be inftru&ed in ,& J
B 5 Ghriftian

Chriftian country, and then fent back,
to civilize their countrymen.
Ed. And was not that a good thing ?
Mr. B. Certainly—if it were done by
proper means; but to attempt it by an
a£t of violence and injuftice could not
be right; for they could teach them no
thing fo good, as their example was bad;
and the poor people were not likely to
learn willingly from thofe who had be
gun with injuring them fo cruelly.
Ed. I remember Capt. Cook brought
over fomebody from Otaheite; and poor
Lee Boo was brought here from the Pe-
lew I Hands. But I believe they both
came of their own accord.
Mr. B. They did. . And it is a great
proof of the better way of thinking of.
modern voyagers, than 1 of former ones, ,
1 that they do not confider it as juftifiable
to pfe violence even for the fn^pofed
benefit of th&people they vifit. - 4
Ed. I have, read of taking poffeffion
of a newly difcovered country by fetting .
^ ; • U P

up the king’s ftandard, or fome fuch
ceremony, though it was full of inha-
bitants. , \ t
Mr.B. Such was formerly the cuf-
tom } and a more impudent mockery
of all right and juftice cannot be con
ceived. Yet this, I am forry. to fay, is .
the title by which European nations
claim the greateft part of their foreign
Ed. And might not the natives drive
them out again, if they were able ?
Mr. B. I am fure 1 do not know
why they might not } for force can never .
give right .. - .
Now Harry , tell me what you think
of the ftory. ,
Harry. I think it very ftrange that
people fhould want to go back to fuch
a cold difmal place as Greenland.
Mr. B. Why, what country do you
love beftjn all.the world ?
H. England, to be fure!
E 6 'Mr.

Mr. B. 'But England is, by no means
the warmeft and fineft country. Here
are no grapes growing in the fields, nor
oranges in the woods and hedges, as
there are in more fouthern climates.
H. I (hould like them very, well, to
be fure*—but then England is my own
native country, where you and mamma
and all my friends live. Belides, it is a
very pleafant country, too.
Mr.B. As to your firft reafon, you
ffluft be fenfible that the Greenlander
can fay.juft the fame;- and-the poor fel
low who left a wife and children behind
mull have had 'the ftrongeft of all ties
to make him wilh to return. Do you
think I fhould be eafy to be feparated
from all of you ? ;
H. No—-and I am fure we fhould
not be eafy, neither.
Mr. B . Home, my dear, wherever
it be, is the fpot towards which a good
heart is the moft ftrongly drawn. Then,

as for the pleafantnMs of a place, that
all depends upon habit. The Green
lander, being accuftomed to the way of'
living, and all the: obje&s, of his own
country, could not relifli any other fo
well. He loved whale-fat and feal as
well as you can do pudding and beef.
He thought rowing his'little boat amid
the boifterous waves, pleafanter employ
ment than driving a plow or a cart. He
fenced againft the winter’s cold by warm
clothing; and the long" night of many
weeks, which you, would think fo
gloomy, was/to him a feafon ofeafe and
feftivity in his habitation under ground.
It is a very kind and wife difpenfation
of Providence, that every part of . the
world is rendered the moft agreeable to
thofe who live in it.
Now, little Mary , what have you to
fay ?
Mary . I have only to fay, that if
they were to' offer to carry me away

from home, I would fcratch their eyes
Mr. Well faid, my girl I ftand
up for yourfelf. Let nobody run away
with you —againfiyour will.\
Mary, That I won’t, n

< ,87 )
Since we parted at the bpaking-up,
I have been for moft of the time at a
pleafant farm in Hertfordlhire, where I
have employed myfelf in rambling about
. the country, and affifting, as well as I
could, in the work going on at home
and in the fields. On wet days, and in
the evenings, I have amufed myfelf
with keeping a journal of all the great '
events that have happened among us 5
and hoping that when you are tired of
the buftle of your bufy town, you may
receive fo me entertainment from com
paring our tranfa&ions with, yours, X
, have copied out for your perufal one'of
tlie days in my memorandum- bookr
, Pray

Pray let me know in return what you*
are doing, and believe me,
Tour very affectionate friend,
' Journal.
June 10th. Laft night we had a dread
ful alarm. A violent fcream was heard
from the hen-rooft; the geefe all fet up
a cackle, and the dogs barked; 'Ned, the
boy who lies over the {table, jumped ! u£>'
and ran into the yard, when' he obferved\
a fox gallopping away witk a chicken in^
his mouth, and*the dogs in full chafe af
ter him. They could not overtake him*,
and foon returned. Upon' further ex
amination,, the large white-cock was v
found lying on the ground all'bloody,,
with his comb torn almoft off, and his
feathers air ruffled j and the ipeckled hen
. and three chickens lay d'ead befide him.
The cock recovered, but appeared ter
ribly frightened. It feems that the fox
had jumped over the garden hedge, and-

then croffing part of the yard behind
the draw, had crept into the hen-rooft
through a broken pale. John the car
penter was fent for, to make all fart, and .
prevent the like mifchief again.
Early this morning the brindled COW
was delivered of a fine bull-calf. Both,
are likely to do well. The calf is to be
fattened for the butcher.
The duck-eggs that were fitten upon
by the old black hen were hatched this
day, and the ducklings all dire&ly ran
into the pond, to the great terror of the
hen, who went round and round, cluck
ing with all her might in order to call
them out, but they did not regard her.
An old drake took the little ones under
his care, and they fwam about very
As Dolly this morning was milking
the new cow that was bought at the fair,
fne kicked with her hind-legs, and threw
down the milk-pail, at the fame time
, y knocking

knocking Dolly off her flool into the
dirt. For this offence the cow was feri-
tenced to have her head fattened to the,
rack, and her legs tied together.'
A kite was obferved to hover a long
while over the yard V/Ith an intention of
carrying off fome of the young chickens;
but the hens called their broods together ,
under their, wings, and the cocks put
themfelves in order of battle, fo that the t
kite \yas difappointed. At length,,one
chicken, riot'minding its mother, but ,
draggling heedlefsly to a diftance, was-"
defcried by the kite, who made a fud-
den fwoop, and feized it in his talons.
The chicken cried out, and the cocks
and hens - all fcreamedj when Ralph
the farmer’s fon,-who faw - the attack,
fnatched up a loaded gun,_ and juft as
the kite was flying off with his prey,
fired and brought him dead to the
ground, al6ng with the- poor chicken,
who was killed in the' fall. The dead
1 ^body

body of the kite was nailed up a gain ft
the wall, by way of warning to his wick
ed comrades.
In the forenoon we were alarmed with _
ftrange noifes approaching us, and look
ing out we Taw a number of people with
frying pans; 'warming pans, tongs, and
pokers, beating, ringing* and making
all poffible din. ' We foon difcovered
them to be our neighbours of the next
farm, inpurfuitof a fwarm of bees which
was hovering in the air over their headsi
, The bees at length alighted on the tali
.pear-tree in our orchard, and hung in
a bunch from one of the boughs. A,
.ladder was got, and a man' afcending
•with gloves on his hands and an ,^pron
tied over his head, Twept them’ into a
hive which was rubbed on the infide with
honey and fweet herbs. But as he was
defcending, fome bees which .had. ,got
under his ftung him in Tuch a
manner, that' he haftily threw .down the

92- , Ninth evening.
hive, upon which the greater part ofthe
bees fell out, and began in a rage to fly
among the crowd, andtftmg all whom
they lit upon. Away fcampered the
people, the women fhrieking* the chil
dren roaring 5 and poor Adam, who had'
held the hive, was afTailed fo furioufiy,
that he was obliged to throw himfelf
on the ground, and creep under the
goofeberry bufhes, At' length the bees
began to return to the hive,, in which,
the qtieen bee had remained ; and after
a whiie, all being quietly fettled, a cloth
was thrown over it, and the fwarm was
carried home,
About noon, three pigs broke into
the garden, where they were rioting
upon‘the carrots and turnips, and doi ng
a great deal of mifchief by trampling
the beds and rooting up the plants with
their fnouts; when they were fpied by
old Towzer tiie maftifF, who ran among
them, and laying hold- of their long ears
, with

with his teeth, made them, fqueel mod
difmally, and get out of the garden as
fad as they could.
Roger the plowman, when he came
for his dinner, brought word that he
had difcovered a partridge’s neft with
jfixteen eggs in the home field. Upon
which the farmer went out and broke
them all ; faying, that he did -not choofe
to rear birds upon his corn which he
was not allowed to catch, but mull leave
to fome qualified fpbrtfman,,who would
befides break down his fences in the
A fheep- wafhing was held this day at
the raill-pool* when feven fcore were
well walhed, and then penned in the
high meadow to dry. Many of them
made great refiftance at being thrown
into the water; and the old ram, being
dragged to the brink by a boy at each
horn, and a third puihing behind, by a
fudden fpring threw two of them into

' ' ; 1 - '
the water, tothe greatdiverfion of the
Towards the dufk of the evening,
the ’Squire’s mongrel greyhound, which
had been long fulpe&ed of worrying
ftieep, - was' caught in the fa<5t. He had
killed two lambs, and was making a
hearty meal upon one of the nr, when
he was difturbed by the approach of the
fhepherd’s boy, and dire£tly leaped the
hedge and made off. The dead bodies
were taken to the ’Squire’s, with an in
dictment of Wilful murder againft the
dog. But when, they came to look for
the culprit, he was not to be found in
any part of the premifes, and is fup-
pofed to have fled his country through
confcioufnefs of his heinous offence.
’ Jofeph, who ileeps in the. garret at
the old end of the houfe, after having
been fome time in bed, came down ftairs
in his fhirtj as pale as afhes, and fright
ened the 1 maids, who were going up. It
7 was

was fome time before he could tell what
was Che friatter * at length He faid he
had heard fome dreadful noifes over
head, which he was fure muft be made
by fome ghoft or evil fpi'rit; nay, he
thought he had feen fomething mov
ing, though he owned he durft hardly
lift up his eyes. He concluded with
declaring, that he would rather fit up
all night "in the kitchen than go to his
room again. The maids were almoft
_as much alarmed as he, and did not
know what to do; but the mafter, over
hearing, their talk, came out ; and' infift-
ed upon their accompanying him to the
fpot, in order to fearch into the affair.
They all went into the garm, and for a
while heard nothing; when the" mafter
ordered the candle to be taken away,
and every one ; to keep quite ftill. jo-
feph and the maids ftuck clofe to each
other, and trembled every limb. At
length a kind of groaning or fnoring be
gan to be heard, which grew louder and

louder, with intervals of a ftrange fort of
hilling. "That’s it!” whifpered Jo-
feph, drawing back towards the door—■
the maids were ready to fink; and,even
the farmer himfelf was a little difcon-
certed. The noife feemed "to come
from the rafters near the thatch. In a
while, a glimpfe of moon-light Alining
through a hole at the place, plainly dis
covered the lhadow of fomething {tir
ing; and on looking intently, fome-
what like feathers-were perceived. .The
farmer now began to fufpeft what the
cafe was; and ordering up a fhort
ladder, bid Jofeph climb to the fpot,
and thruft his hand into the hole. This
he did rather unwillingly, and foon drew
it back, crying loudly that he was bit.
However, gathering courage, he put it
in again, and pulled out a large white
owl, another at the fame time being
heard to fly away. The caufe of the
alarm was now made clear enough; and
poor Jofeph^ after being heartily jeered
h 7

■ •'by the maids, though they had been as
much frightened as he, fneaked into
bed again, and the houfe foon became'
quiet. •-
Father. — Henry.
Hen. My dear father, you obferved
the other day that we had a great many
manufactures in England. Pray what is
a Manufa&ure ? ; ■
* <Fa. A Manufacture is fomething
made by the hand of man. It is derived .
from two Latin, words, mantis the hand,
and.facere, to make. Manufactures are
therefore oppofed to -jproduffions, which
latter are what the bounty of nature
Ipontaneoufly affords us; as fruits, corn,
Hen . But there is a great deal of
trouble with corn*, you have often
made me take notice how much pains it
Yol, II. F cofts

cofts the famer to plough his ground,
and put the feed in the, earth, and keep
it clear from weeds..
Fa. \ Very true ;(• but the farmer does
not make . the corn; he only prepares for
it a proper foil and fituation, and re
moves everyVhindrance arifing frdm the
hardnefs of the ground, or the neigh
bourhood of other plants, which might
.bbftruft the fecret and wonderful pro-
cefs of vegetation ; but with the vege
tation itfelf he has nothing to do. It is
not his hand that draws out the fiender.
fibres of the root, pufhes up the green
ftalk, and by degrees the fpiky ears
fwells the grain, and embrowns it with
that rich tinge of tawny ruffet, which
informs the hulbandman it is time to
put in his fickle : all this operation is
performed without his care or even
knowledge. V
Hen . Now then' I underftand.; corn
is a Produ£lion 3 and bread a Mam -
if&Sfiirs. ' '

Manufactures,’ . 99
Fa't Bread is certainly^.in ftridnefs of
fpeecn, a Manufacturer but we do not
in general apply the term to any thing
in which the original material is fo little
changed. If we wanted to fpeak of
bread philofophically, we fhould fay, it
is a ■preparation of corn.
Hen. Is fugar a Manufa6lure ?
Fa. No, for the fame reafon. Be-
fides which, I So not recoiled the term
being applied to any article of food; I
fuppofe from an idea that food is of too
perifhable a nature, and generally ob
tained by a procefs too fimple to deferve
the name. We fay, therefore, fugar-
v/orks, oil-mills, chocolate-works; w£
do not fay a beer-manufa&ory, but a
brewery; but this is only a nicety of lan
guage, for properly all thofe are manu-
la6lori6s, if there is much of art, and cu-
riofity in the procefs.
Bm. Do we fay a manufactory of
■pi cl tires ?
Fa. ;Nobut for a different reafon.
F 2 A pic-

A pifture, efpecially if it belong to any
of the .higher kinds of painting, is,an ef
fort of genius. A pi&Ure cannot be
' pfpduced; by any given combinations of
canvas and colour. It is the hand, in-’
deed,-. that executes, but. the. head that
works. Sir Jofhua Reynolds could not
have gone, when he was engaged; to
paint a pi&ure, and, hired workmen,
the one to draw the ; eyes, another the
nofe, a third the mouth j the whole muft
be the painter’s owa,. that particular
painter’s, and no other j and no t>ne
who has not his ideas can do his work.
His work is therefore nobler, of a
•higher fpecies.
Hen. ?ray give me an inftance of a
' manufadure. -
. Fa. The making of watches is a ma-
nufa&ure: the filver, iron, gold, or
whatever elfe is ufed in it, are produc
tions, the material of the work j but it
is by tlie wonderful art of man that they
are wrought into the numberlefs wheels

and fprings of which this/complicated
machine is corhpofed. ' '
Hen. Then is there not as much art
in making a watch as a pi61 ure"? Does
not the head work?
Fa. Certainly, in the original inven
tion of watches, as much or more, than
in painting 3 but when once invented,,
the art of watch-making is capable of
being reduced to a mere mechanical la
bour , 1 which may be exercifed by any
man of common capacity, according to
certain precife rules, when made fami
liar to him by pra&ice. This, painting
is not.
Hen. But, my-dear father, making of
books furely requires a great deal of '
thinking and itiidy; and yet I remem
ber the other day at dinner a gentleman
faid that Mr. Pica had manufactured & ,
large volume in lefs than a fortnight.
Fa. It was meant to convey a fatirical
remark on his book, becaufe it was com
piled from other authors, from whom
F 3 he

he had taken-a page in one place, and *
a page in another 5 fo that it was not
■proeduced , by the labour of his . brain,
but, of his hands. . Thus you heard your
mother complain that the London creani
was manufactured 1 which-was a pointed -
and concife-way of faying that the cream
was not what .it ought to ,be, nor what
•it pretended; to be; for cream, when
genuine, is' a pure production; but when
mixed up and adulterated with; flour and
ifinglafs, and.-1; know ; not wtat,; it be
comes A;Mat^ It ; ;was t as muclr
as to fay, artihas beenJiere^whcre jt has
no bufinefsj where it is not beneficial,
but hurtful. ; A great.dealpf -the- deli- •
cacy, of language depends .upon an ac
curate knowledge of the fpecific mean-,
ing offingle terms, and a nice attention
to their relative propriety. •
: lien. Have all nations rnanufa&ures [
Fa. All that are in any degree cul
tivated ; but it very often happens that
countries naturally, the pooreft have ma-
■ nufactures

nufaftures of the greateft extent and t
Hen. Why fo ? ' /_/■/.'
Fa. For the fame reafon, I appre
hend, that individuals, who are rich
without any labour of their own, are
feldom fo induftrious and a£tive as
thofe who depend upon their own ex
ertions : thus the Spaniards, who pof-
fefs the richeft gold and filver mines in
the world, are in want ,of many con
veniences of life which are enjoyed in
London and Amfterdam.
; I can comprehend that; I be
lieve if my uncle Ledger Were to find
a gold mine under his v/arehoufe, lie
would foon fhut up JHop. , ■
Fa. I believe fo'. ; It is not, however,
eafy to eftablifti Manufaftures in a very
poor nation; they: require- fcience' and
. genius for their invention, art and con
trivance for -their - execution ;order,
peace, and union* for their, flburifhing;
they require a number of merino com-
F 4 ; bine

bine together in an undertaking, and to
profecute it with the moft patient in-'
duftry; they require, therefore, laws and
government for their protection. If you
fee extenfive Manufactures' in any na
tion, you may be fure it is a civilized na
tion ; you may be fure property is accu
rately afccrtained and protected. They
require great expences for their firft efta-
blifhment, coftly machines for (horten-
ing manual labour, and money and cre
dit for purchafing materials from diftant
>countries. There is not a fingle Manu
facture of Great Britain which does not
require, in fome part or other of its pro-
cefs, productions from tjie different parts â– 
of the globe'; oils, drugs., varniih, quick-
lijver, and the like; it requires, - there-.
foTCj Jhi^s and a friendly intercourfe with
foreign nations to tranfport commodi
ties, and exchange productions. We
could not be a manufacturing, unlefs
we were alio a commercial nation. They
require time to take root in any place*

m^.nu?A'C 7 i;res» 105,
and their excellence, often depends upon;
fome nice and delicate circumtfance j a,
peculiar quality, for inftance, in the air 5 ;
©r water,, or fome other local circum-
iiance not eafily afcertained. Thus, I-
have heard, that the Irifh women fpin-.
better than the Englifh, beeaufe the-
moifter temperature of their -climate'
, makes their fkin more foft and their
fingers more flexiblethus again we:
cannot beautiful.a fcarlet as the-
French can, though with the fame:
drugs, perhaps on. account of the fupe-
rior purity of their air.. But tholigh fo>
much is neceffary for the perfection of
the more curious and complicated Ma
nufactures, all nations poffefs thofe
which are fubfervient to the common*,
conveniences,—the loom and the-
forge, particularly, are of ,the highefk
‘ antiquity. -
Hen. YesI remember He&or bids.
Andromache return to her. apartment^
and employ herfelf in weaving with; her
F 5. ' " maids 1,'

maids; and I remember the fhield of
. Fa . True; and you likewife remem
ber, in an earlier period, the fihe linen
of Egypt; andf'to go ftill higher, the
working!in brafs and iron is recorded
of Tubal Cain before the flood.
Hen, Which is the moft important,
Manufa&ures or Agriculture ?
Fa. Agriculture is the moft necejfary .
becaufe it is' firft of all neceffary that
man fhouldiive; but almoft all the en
joyments and comforts of life are pro
duced by Manufactures.
Hen. Why are we obliged to take
fo much pains to make ourfelves com
fortable? >
Fa. To exercife our induftry. • Na
ture provides the materials for man.
She pours out at his feet a profufion of
gems, metals, dyes, plants, ores, barks*
ftones, gums, wax, marbles, woods, roots,
fkins, earths, and minerals of all kinds]
She has likewife given Iiim tools.
Hen .

■ Hen. I did not know that Nature
, gave us tools.
Fa. No I what are thofe two" inftru-
ments you carry always about with you,
lb ftrong and yet fo flexible, fo nicely
jointed, and branched out into five long,
taper; ' unequal divifions,-any of which
may be contra6led or ftretched out at
pleafure; the extremities of which have
a feeling fo'wonderfully delicate, and
which are ftrengthened and defended
by horn ? , ■ •
Hen . The'hands.
Fa . Yes.- Man is as much fuperior
to the brutes in his outward form, by
.means of the hand, as he is in his mind •
, by the gifts of reafon. The trunk of the
elephant comes perhaps the neareft to it
in its exquifite feeling and flexibility (it
is, indeed, called his hand in Latin), and
'accordingly that animal has always been -
reckoned the wifeft of brutes^ When
Nature gave .man- the hand, fhe faid 'to
him,; u Exe.rcife your ingenuity, and -
F 6 ■ . work. 13

!o 3 ' W-INTfl EVgfflffGV
wotk. ,> As foon as ever mail file*
above the Hate of a favage, he begins-
to contrive and tor make things, in or
der to improve his forlorn condition *
thus you--may remember Thomfon re-
prefents Induftry coming to the poor
fhivering wretch, and teaching him the
arts of life
Taught him to chip the wood, arid hew the Hone,
Till by degrees the finifh^d fabric rofe;
Tore from his lirtrbs the blood polluted fur,
.And wrapt them in the woolly veftment warm*
Or bright in gloffy filk and-flowing lawn.
Hen. It mtift require a great deal of
knowledge, I fuppofe, for fo many cu
rious works j-what kind of knowledge
is moft necefTary t ■ :■
Fa. There is not any which may not
< be occafionally employed ■, but the two
fciences which rtioft affift the manufac
turer are mechanics and chemtfiry v The
one for building mills* working of mines, <
and in general for conftrufting wheels*
wedges, pullies, &c, either to Ihorten

the labour of man, by /performing in
in lefs time,, or to perform what the -
ftrength of man alone could not ac-
complifh ^—-the other in fufing and'
working ores, in dying and bleaching,,
and..extracting" the virtues of various
fubftances for particular. ufes: making
of foap, for inftance, is a chemical
operation y and by chemiftry an'inge
nious gentleman has lately found out a
way of bleaching a piece of cloth irs
eight and forty hours, which by _ the
. common procefs would have ,taken up
a great many weeks.—You have heard
of Sir Richard Arkwright who died
- Ben. Yes, I have heard he was at
firft only a barber, and fhaved people
. for a penny a-piece.
Fa. He did fo j but having a ftrong
turn for mechanics, he invented, or. at
leaft perfe&ed, a ma'chine, by which,'one
pair of hands may do the y/ork of twen
ty .or thirty i and, as ; in this country
8 every

every,one is free to rife by merits he
acquired the larged fortune in the coun
ty, had a great many hundreds of work
men under his orders, and had leave-
given him by the King to put Sir before
his name.
Hen . Did that do him any good ?
Fa. It pleafed him, I fuppofe, or he
would not have accepted of it; and you\
will allow, I imagine, that if titles are
ufedj it does honour to thofe who be-'
How them, that they are given to fuck
as have made tbemfelves noticed, for
fomething ufeful,—Arkwright ufed to
fay, that if he had time to .perfedt his
inventions, he would put a fleece of
wool into a boxj and it fhould come
out broad cloth.
Hen. What did he mean by that; was
there any fairy in the it into'
broad cloth with her ,wand
■ Fa .'He was affifted-by the only fai-
lies that ever'had the’power of tranf-i
formation," Art and Induftry : he meant.
v - ^ that

that he would contrive To many ma
chines, wheel within wheel, that the
combing/ carding, and other various,
operations, fhould be performed by me-
chanifm, almoft without the hand of
Hen . I think, if I had not been told;,
I fhould never have been able to guefs.
that my coat came off the back of the
Fa. You hardly would but. there
^re Manufactures-hr which-the material
is much more changed than in woollen
cloth. W hat can be meaner in appear
ance than fand and allies ? Would you
imagine any thing beautiful could be
made out of fuch a mixture? Yet the
furnace transforms this into that tranf-
parent cryftal we call glafs, than which
nothing is more fparkling* more - bril
liant, more full of luftre. It throws
about, the rays of light as if it had life
and motiot}. ^ / : , :•
■ Hen . There is a glafs-lhop in Lon-
' ' don.

.il'2- NINTH EVENING-. r
don, which always puts me in mind of
Aladdin’s palace.
Fa. It is certain that if a perfon ig
norant- of the Manufadture were to fee-
one of our capital fhops, he would- think
all the treafures of Golconda were cen
tered there,, and that every drop of cut
glafs ‘ was worth a prince’s ranfom,—
Again* who would fuppofe, on feeing
the green fcalks of a plant,, that it could,
be formed into a texture fo fmooth, fo<
fnowy-white, fo firm, and yet fo flex
ible as to wrap round: the limbs and!
adapt itlclf to ,every mo vement of the
body? Who would guefs this fibrous,
italk could be made to float in fuch
light undulating folds as in our lawns*
and cambrics j. not lefs fine,, we pre-
-fume, than, that tranfparent drapery
which the Romans called ventus tesetilk x
woven wind.
Hen. I wonder how any body ;> c^n-
fpin fuch fine thread.

Fa. Their fingers muit have the
touch of a fpider, that, as Pope fays,
“ Feels at cach thread, and lives along the
and indeed you recolleft that Arachne
^was a fpinfter. Lace is a {till finer pro-
du£tion from flax, and is'one of thofe ia
which the original material is mod im
proved. How many times the price of
a pound of flax do you think that flax:
will be worth when made into lace ?•
Hen. A great many times, . I fuppofe.'
Fa. Flax at the beft hand is bought:
at fourteen-p£nce a pound.. They make
lace at Valenciennes, in French Elans-
ders, of ten guineas a yard, I believe
indeed higher, but we will fay ten
guineas> this yard of lace will weigh,
probably not more thani half an ounce:
what ’is the value of half an ounce of
' flax ? reckon it^
Hen. It comes to. one farthing and,
three quarters of a farthing.
. . Fa, Rights now tell me how many
\ times,

times the .original value ; the lace is
Worth. , . ! ;
1 Hen. Prodigious! it is worth 5760
times as much as the flax it is made of.
Fa. Yet there is another material that
is ftill more iriiproveable than flax.
- Hen. What can that be ?
Fa. Iron. The price of pig-iron is
ten fhillings a hundred weight; this is:
not quite one farthing for. two ounces;
now you have feenfome off the beautiful
cut ;%el that looks’ like;diamonds. i'
'Hen. Yes, I have feen buckles, and
pinsi.iand: watch-chains; . . :
•. Fa. \ Then 'you can form an idea of
it; but you have feen only the mod
common forts.;\ There/was a chain,
made at;, in Oxfqrdlhire^
and fent to France, which weighed only
two ounces, and coft^ol. - Calculate^
how many, times that- had increafed, its „
value.. ,
‘ Hen. Amazing! It.was worth 163,600
times the value ,of the iron it was made of.

manufactures . 315
Fa. That is what Manufactures can
do; here man is a kind of a creator, and,
like the great Creator, he may pleafe
himfelf with his work, and fay it is good.
In the laft-mentioned Manufa&ure, too,
that of fteel> the Englifli' have the ho-,
nour of excelling all the world.
Hen . What are the chief Manufac
tures of England ?
. Fa, We. have at prefent a greater va
riety, than I can pretend to enumerate,
but our ftaple Manufacture is woollen'
cloth. .England abounds in fine pas
tures and extenfive downs, which feed
great numbers of fheep; hence our
wool has always. been a valuable arti
cle- of trade-5 - but we ' did not always-
know how to work it. We ufed to
fell it to the Flemifli or Lombards,: Who
wrought it into cloth ; till in the year
332.6, Edward the Third invited fome
Flemifh weavers over 'to teach us the
art; but there was not much made in
England till the reign of Heniy the Se

Venth. ' Manchefter and Birmingham
are towns which have arifen to great
confequence from fmall beginnings, al-
mofl within the memory of old men now
living; the firft for' cotton and muflin
goods, the fecond for cutlery and hard
ware, in which.we at this moment ex
cel all Europe. Gf late years, too a
carpets, beautiful as fine tapeftry, have
been fabricated in this country. Our
clocks and watches are greatly eiteemed.
The earthen-ware plates;• and difhes,
which we all ufe in common, and the
elegant fet foe the tea-table, ornament
ed with mufical inftruments, which we
admired in our vifit yefterday* belong
to a very extenfive manufaftory, the
feat of which is at Burflem in Staf-
fordfhire,! The principal potteries there
belong to one perfon, an excellent chy-
mift, and a man of great tafte ; he, in- v
conjunftion with another man of tafte
who is fince dead, has made our clay
more valuable than the fineft porcelain
, ' ' of

of China. He has moulded it into all
the forms of grace and'beauty that are
to be met with in the'precious remains
of the Greek and Etrufcan artifts. In
the more common articles he has pen
ciled it with.the moft elegant defigns,
lhaped it into (hells and leaves, twilled
it into wicker work, and trailed the
du&ile foliage round the light bafket.
He has filled our cabinets and chimney-
pieces with urns, lamps, and vafes, on
which are lightly traced, with the pureft
fimplicity, the fine forms and floating
draperies of Herculaneum. In fhort, he
has given to our houfes a claflic air, and
has made every faloon and every din
ing-room fchools of tafte. I fhould add
that there is a great demand abroad for
this elegant Manufa&ure. The Em-
prefs of Ruffia has had fome, magnifi
cent fervices of it; and the other day
one was fent to the King of Spain, in
tended as a prefent from him to the
Archbilhop of Toledo, which coft a

thoufand pounds. Some morning you
ihall go through the rooms in the Lon
don Warehoufe.
Hen. I fhould like very much to fee
Manufa&ures, now you have told me
fuch curious things about them.
Fa. You will do well! there is much
, more entertainment to a cultivated mind
in feeing a pin made, than in many a
fafhionable diverfion which young peo
ple half ruin themfelves to attend. In
the mean time I will give you fome ac
count of one of the moft elegant of them,
which is paper..
Hen. Pray do, my dear father.
Fa. It ffi’all be left for another even
ing, however, for it. is now late. Good
night. ■

( ”9 )
' The Flying Filh, fays the fable, had
originally no wings, but being of an
ambitious and difcontented temper, fhe
repined at being always confined to
the waters, and wilhed to foar in the
aiv- <l If I could fly like the birds/ 7
faid fhe, £f I fhould not only fee more
of the.beauties,of nature', 'but I fhould
Jbe able to efcape from thofe filh which
■are continually purfuing me, and which
render my life miferable.” She there
fore petitioned Jupiter for a pair of
wings: and immediately fhe perceiv
ed her fins to expand. They fud-
denly grew to the length of her whole
body, and became at the fame time fo
ftrong as to do the office of a pinion.
She was at iirft much pleafed with her
5 new

new powers, and looked with an air of
difdain on all her former companions;
but fhe foon' perceived herfelf expofed
to new dangers. When flying in.tjie
air, fhe was incefTantly purfued by the
tropi-c bird, and the Albatrofs; and^
when for fafety (he dropped into the
water, fhe was fo fatigued with her
flight, .that fhe was lefs able than ever
to efcape from her old enemies the flfh.
Finding herfelf more unhappy than be
fore, fhe now begged of J upiter to recal
his prefent; but Jupiter faid to her,
<e When I gave you your wings, I well
knew they would prove a curfej but
your proud and reftlefs difpofition de
ferred this difappointment. Now,
therefore, what you begged as a favour,
keep as a punifhment!”

F. Come hither, Charles ; -what is :
that you fee grazing in the meadow
before you ?
C. It is a horfe.
F. Whofe horfe is it ?.
C I do not'know; I never faw it
before? • i
F. How do you know it is a horfe ..
if you never faw’ it before f ; .
C. B.ecaufe it is like other horfes.'
F. Are all horfes alike, then ? ....
C, Yes. : 7-/
jp. If they are all alike } how do you :
know one horfe from' another ? t
C. They are: not quite\alike»
F. But they are fo much alike^ that :
you can eafily diftinguiOi a* horfe from
a cow ? -.. v ' : , .
C. Tes, indeed. , ,>
F. Or from a cabbage?
You II, G C. A

C. A horfe from a ’ cabbage ! yes,
furely I can.
F< Very well; then let us fee if you
can tell how a horfe differs from a cab
‘ C. Very 'eafily; a horie is alive.
F. True; and how is every thing
called, which is alive ?
C. I believe all things that are alive
are called animals.
F. Right; but can you tell me what
a horfe 1 and a cabbage are alike in ? •
C. Nothing, I believe.
' F, Yes^- there is one thing in which
the flencjereft-mofs that grows upon the
wall is like the greateft man or the
htgheft angel.
G. Becaufe God made them. !
F. Yes; and how do you call every
thing that is made ?
C. A creature.
F. A horfe then is a creature, but
a living creature; that is to fay, an
animal. - - ' ,
■1 P- And

C. And a cabbage is a dead creature ,
that is the difference.
F. Not fo, neither; nothing is dead
that has never been alive,
C. What mull I call it then, if it is ;
neither dead nor alive ?
F. An inanimate creature; there is
the animate and the inanimate creation*
Plants, ftones, metals^ are of the latter
clafs, horfes belpng to the, former.
C. But the gardener told mb fome of
my cabbages were dead, and fome were
F. Very true. Plants have a vegeta - v '
the life, a principle of growth! and de
cay; common to them with all
organized bodies.; but they have not
fenfation, at leaft we do riot know they
. have—they have not life , therefore, in
. the fenfe in which animals enjoy it.
C. A horfe is called an animal, then.
F. Yes; but a falmon is an animal,
and fo is a fparrow; how will you dif-
, -singuilh a horfe from thefe ?
g 2 ■ a a

C. A falmon lives in the water, and
iwims ; a fparrovv flies, and lives in the
F. I think a falmon could not walk
upon the ground, even if it could'live
out of the water.
6*. No, indeed; it has no legs.
F. And .a bird would not gallop like
a horfe.
C. No; it would hop away upon its
• two flender legs.
F. How many legs has a horfe ?
C. Four. . '
F. And an ox ?
G. Four likewife.
jF. And a camel ?
G. Four ftill.
F. Do you know any animals which
. live upon the earth that have not four
legs ?'
C. I think not; they have all four
legs; except worms and infe&s, and;
fuch things.
F. You remember, I fuppofe, what

an animal is called' that has four legs ;
you have it in your little books.
C . A quadruped.
F. A horfe then is a quadruped: by
this we diftingtulh him from birds,
filljes, .and infe&s. v
C. And from men.
F. True; but if you had been talk
ing about birds,. you would not have
/ound it fo eafy to diftinguifh them.
C. How fo ! a man is not at all like
a bird.
F. Yet an ancient philofopher could
find no way to diftinguifh them, but by
calling man a two-legged animal without
feather So ' • .
■ C. I think he was very fiily; they are
• not at all alike, though they have both
two legs.
F. Another ancient philofopher, call
ed Diogenes, was of your opinion.^ He
ftript a cock of his feathers, and turned
him into the fchool where Plato, that
G 3 was

was his name, was teaching,"and faid,
Here is Plato’s man for you.
C. I wifh I had been there, I fhould ;
have laughed very much.
F. Probably. Before we.‘laugh at
others, however, let us fee what we can
do ourfelves. We have not yet found
any thing which will diftinguifh a horfe
from an elephant, or from a Norway
C. O, that is eafy enough. An eler-
phant is very large, and a rat is very
fmall; a horfe is neither large nor fmall.
F. Before we go any further, look
.. what is fettled on the fkirt of your coat.
C, It is a butterfly > what a prodi
gious large one ! I never faw fuch a
one before.
F. Is it larger than a rat, think you ?-
C. No, that it is'not.
F. Yet you called the butterfly krge 5
and you called the rat fmall.
; Ct It. is very large for a butterfly."
" F. It. :

F. It is fo. You fee, therefore, that
large and e relative terms., ,
C. I do not well underftand that
,. F. It means that they have no pre-
cife and. determinate fignification in
themfelves, but are' applied differently
according to the other ideas which you
. join with them, and the different por
tions in which you view them. This
.butterfly, therefore, is large 3 Compared'
. with thofe of'its own fpecies, and fmall t
-compared with, many o.ther fpecies of
; animals. Belides, there is no circum-
ftance which .varies more than the fize
\ of individuals.^ If you were to give an
• idea of a horfe from its fize, you would
certainly fay it was much bigger than a
dog; yet if you take the fmaileft Shet-.
-land horfe, and the largest Irifh.grey-
. hound, you will find them .very much
upon a par: fize, therefore, is not a-
circumftance by-which you can accu-
G 4 rately

rafcelydiflinguifh one animal from ano
ther^ nor yet his colour; ■
C. No ; there are' black horfes, and
:bay, and white, and pied.
F. But-yon have not feen that va
riety of colours, in a hare, for inftance;
C. No, a hare is always brown.
F. Yet if you were to depend upon
that circumftance, you would not con
vey the idea of a hare to a‘mountaineer,
or an inhabitant of Siberia y for he fees
them white as fnow. We mu ft, there
fore, find out fome circumftances that
do not change like fize and colour, and
I may add ill ape, though they are not
fo obvious, nor perhaps fo -ftriking.
Look at the feet of quadrupeds ; are
they all alike ?
C. -No; fome - have long taper claws,
' and fome have thick cl unify feet witli-
' out claws.
F, The thick feet are horny 3 , are
they not ?
C. Yes,

C. Yes, I recolledt they are called
F\ And the feet that are not covered
with horn, and are divided into claws,
are called digitated^ from digitus , a fin
ger ; becaufe they are parted .like fin
gers. , Here, then, we have one grand
divifion of quadrupeds into hoofed z.vA
digitated., Of which divifion is the horfe ?.
C, He is" hoofed.
. F . \There are a great many different
kinds of horfes ; did you ever know
one that was not hoofed ?
C. No, never.
' F. Do you think we run any hazard
of a ftranger telling us, Sir, horfes are
hoofed indeed in your country, but in
mine, which is in a different climate,
and where we feed them differently,
they have claws ?
C. No,, I dare fay not.
F . Then we have got fomething to
our purpofe; a circumftance eafily
marked, which always belongs to the
G 5 ' animal,

. animal, under every variation of Situa
tion or treatment. But an ox is hoofed,
and fo is a Iheep; we muft diftinguifh.
ft ill farther. You have often flood by,
I fuppofe, while the fmith was fhoeing
a horfe. What kind of a hoof has
C. It is round, and all in one piece.
F. And is that of an ox fo ?
C. No, it is divided. - .
F. A horfe, then, is not only hoof
ed, but whole-hoofed\ , Now how many
quadrupeds do you think there are in ,
the world that are whole-hoofed ?
C. Indeed I do not know.
• F, There are, among all animals that
we are acquainted with, either in this
country or in any other, only the horfe,
the afs, and the zebra, which is a fpe- .
cies of wild afs. Now, therefore, you
fee we have nearly' accomplifhed our
purpofe j. we have only to diftinguifh
him from the afs.
C. That is eafily done* I believe; I

fhould be forry if any. body could mif-
take my little horfe for an afs.,
F, It is not fo eafy, however, as you
^imagine;. the eye readily diftinguilhes
them by the air and general appearance,
but naturalifts have been rather puzzled
' to fix upon any fpecific difference, which
may ferve the purpofe of a definition.
Some have, therefore, fixed upon the
ears, others on the mane and tail.
What kind of ears has an afs ?
C. O, very long clumfy ears. Affes*
ears are always laughed at.
F. And the horfe ?
1 C. The horfe has fin-all; ears, nicely
■turned, and upright.
F.' And the mane,, is there no differ-
* ence there ?
C. The horfe has a fine long flowing
mane ; the afs has hardly any. -
F. And the tail; is it not fuller of
hair in the horfe, than in the afs ?
C, Yes; the afs has-only a few Iong N
hairs at the end of his tail j t but the horfe
. : , ■ G 6 . has

has a long, bufhy'tail, when it is not
F . N Which, by the. way x it is pity it
ever fhould. Now, then, obferve what
particulars we have got. A-horfe is an
. animcd of the quadruped kind, ■ whole-
hoofed, with Jhort ereft ears, a flowing
mane , and a tail covered in every part.
with long ’ hairs. Now is there any ’
other animal, think, you, in the world
that anfwers thefe particulars ?
C. I do not knovv; this does not tell
us a great deal about him. ;
F. And yet it tells us.enough todif-
tinguifh\him from all the different tribes
of the creation which we are acquainted
with in any part of the earth. Do you
know now what we have been making I •
C. What ?.
F. A Definition, It is the bufi-
nefs of a definition to .diftinguifh/pre-
cifely the,thing defined from every other
thing', and to do it in as few terms as
poffible. Its obiedt is to fe pa rate the
. . ' fubjed

fubjeft of definition, fir ft, from thofe
with which it has only a general refem-
blance; then, from thofe which agree
with it in a greater variety of particu
lars ; and fa on, till by conftantly throw
ing out all which have not the qualities
we have taken notice of, we come at
length to the individual or the fpecies
we -wifli to afcertain. It is a kind of
chafe, and refembles the manner of hunt
ing in fome countries, where they firft en-
clofe a very large circle with their dogs,
nets, .and horfes ; and - then, by degrees,
draw their toils clofer and clofer, driv
ing their game before them till it is at
length brought into,fo narrow a compafs*
that the fportfmen have nothing to do
but to knock down their prey.
C. Juft as' we have been hunting this .
horfe, till at laft we held him fail by his
ears, and his .tail.
F. I fhould obferve, to yotij that in
the definition naturalifts give of a horfe,
it is generally mentioned that he has
/, fix

ij4 tenth evening,,
fix cutting teeth in each jaw; becaufe
this circumftance of the teeth has been
found a very convenient one for cha-
ra£terifing large clafles: but as it is not
abfolutely neceffary here,' I have omit
ted it; a definition being the more per-
fed: the fewer particulars you make ufe
of, provided you can fay with certainty
from thofe particulars, The obje6t fo
charatterifed muft be this, and no other
C. But, papa, if I had never feen a
horfe, I fhould not know what kind of
animal it was by this definition'.
F. Let us hear, then, how you would
give me an idea of a horfe.
, C I' would fay it was a fine large
prancing creature, with Gender legs and
an arched neck, and a fleek fmooth
fkin, and a tail that fweeps the ground,
and that he fnorts and neighs very loud,
and toiTes his head, and runs as fwifc as
the wind.
F. I think you learned fome verfes

tfjjjon the horfe in your laft lefTpn : re
peat them.
C. The wanton courfer thus with reins unbound
Breaks from his ftall, and beats the trembling
■ Pamper’d and proud, he feeks the wonted
tides, .
And laves, in height of blood, his ftiining
fides; ' ,
His head, now freed, he toffes to the fkies ;
His mane difhevel’d o’er his fhoulders flies;
He fnuffs the females in the diftant plaini
' And fprings, exulting, to his fields again.
, Pope’s Homer,
F. You have faid very well - 3 but this
1 is not a Definition■§ it is a Deferipion.
C. What is the difference ?
■ F. A defcription is intended to give '
you a lively pidure of an objeft, as if
you faw it j it ought to be very full. A
definition gives no piflure to thofe who
have not feen itj it rather tells you what
its fubject is not, than what it is, by
giving you fuch clear fpecific marks,
that it fhall not be poffible to confound

it with any thing elfe 3 and hence it is
of the greateft ufe in throwing things'
into claffes. We Have a great many
beautiful defcriptions from antient au
thors fo loofely worded that we cannot
ce>tainly tell what animals are meant by
them, whereas if they had given us de
finitions, three lines would have afcer-
tained their meaning.
C. I like a defcription beft, papa.
F. Perhaps fo; 1 believe I fhould
have done the fame at your age. Re
member, hbwever, that nothing is more’
ufeful than to learn to form ideas with
precifion, and to expr£fs them with ac
curacy: I have net given you a defini
tion to teach you what a horfe is^ but
to teach you to think.

j A Phenix, 'who had long inhabited '
' the folitary deferts ^of Arabia, once flew
fo near the habitations of men as to meet
with a tame Dove, who was fitting-on
her nefli with : wings expanded; and,
fondly ’brooding over ‘her'.young -ones,
-while fhe expe&ed her mate, who-was
foraging abroad to procure them food.
The Phenix, with a kind of infulting
compailiqn, faid to her, ff Poor -bird a
how much I -pity thee! confined .to a
■fingle fpot, and furik' i-n do-meftic,
thou art continually icm ployed either in
■laying eggs or in providing for thy
■ brood ) and thou exhauftefl thy life and
ftrength in perpetuating afeeble and de-
fencelefs race. As to my felf, I live ex
empt from toil, care, and misfortune. L
feed upon nothing lefs precious than
rich gums and fpices I fly through the
tracldefs regions of the air, and when I

am feen by men, ajii gazed at with cu
rio fity and aftonifhment; I have no oq'e
to controul my range, no one to pro
vide fori and'when I have fulfilled my
five centuries of life, and feen the revo-
■lurions of ages, I rather vanifh than die',
and a fuccefTor, without my care, fprings
up from my a(hes. I am an image of
the great fun whom I adore; and glory
in being, like him, fingle and alone, and
having no likenefs.”
The Dove replied, ff O Phenix, I
pity thee'much more than thou affe£!eft
to pity mel What pleafure canft thou
enjoy, who lived forlorn and folitary in
a tracklefs and unpeopled defert; who
haft no mate to carefs thee, no young
ones to excite thy tendernefs and Reward
.thy caresi no kindred, no foci;ety amongft
thy fellows. Not long life only, but
immortality itfelf would be a curfe, if
it. were to be bellowed on fuch uncom
fortable terms.;. For my part, I know
that my life will be Abort,;and therefore
1 - I employ

I employ it in raifing a .numerous pos
terity, and in opening my heart to all
the fweets of domeftic happinefs. I am
beloved by my partner ;. ! am dear to
man; and fhall leave marks' behind me
■that I have lived. As to the fun, to
whom thou haft prefumed to compare
thyfelf, that glorious beings is fo totally
' different from, and fo infinitely fuperior
to, all the creatures upon earth, > that ic
• does not become us to liken ourfelves to
/him, or to determine upon the manner
of his exiftence-. One obvious differ
ence, however, thou mayeft remark;
that the fun, though alone, by his pro
lific heat, produces all things, and
though he Ihines fo high above our heads,
gives us reafon every moment to blefe
■ his beams j whereas thou, fwelling with '
thy imaginary greatnefs, dreameft away
a long period of exiftence, equally void
of comfort and ufefulnefs;*’

F. I will now, as I pro mi fed, give
you an account of the elegant and ufe-
■ ful manufacture of Paper, the bafis of
which is itfelf a manufa&ure. This de
licate and beautiful fubftance is made
from the meaneft and moil difgufting
materials, from old' rags, which have
pafled from one poor perfon to another,
and at length have perhaps dropped in
tatters from the child of the beggar.
Thefe are carefully picked up from
'dunghills, or bought from fervants by
Jews, who make it their bufinefs to go
about and collect them. They fell
them to the rag-merchant, who gives
from two-pence to four-pence.a pound,
according to their quality ;. and he, when
he has got a fuffident quantity, difpofes
of them to the owner of the paper-mill.
He gives them firft to women, to fort and
' : ' pick*

pick, agreeably to their' different de
grees of finenefs: they alfo with a knife
cut out carefully all the feams,. which
they throw into a bafket for other pur-
pofes j they then put them into the
dufting-engine, a large circular wire-
fieve,. from whence they receive fome
degree of cleanfing.. The rags are then
conveyed to the mill. Here they were
formerly beat, to pieces with vaft ham-
mersj which rofe and fell continually
with a- moft tremendous noife that was
heard from a great diftance. But now
they put the rags into a large trough or
ciftern, into which, a pipe of clear Ipring
water is conftantly flowing. In this
ciftern is placed a cylinder, about, two
feet long, fet thick round with rows of
iron fpikes, {landing as near as they can
to one another without touching. At
the bottom of the trough there are cor-
-refponding rows of fpikes. The cy
linder is made to whirl round with in
conceivable rapidity, and with thefe iron

teeth rends and tears the cloth in every
poffible direction 5 till, : by the affiflance
of the water, which continually flows
through the cifterri, it is thoroughly
mafticated,. and reduced to a fine pulp;
and by the fame procefs all its impuri
ties are cleanfed away, and it is reftored
to its original whitenefs. This procefs
takes about fix hours. To improve the
colour they then put in a little fmalt,
which gives it a bluifh caft, which all
Paper has more or lefs: the French Pa
per has lefs of it than ours. This fine
pulp is next put into a copper of warm
water., It is the fubftance of paper, but ’
the form muft now be given it: for this
purpofe they ufe a mould. It is made
of wire, ftrong one way, and crofTed
with finer. This mould they juft dip .
horizontally into the copper, and take
it out again. It has a little wooden
frame on the edge, by means of which
it retains as much of the pulp as is want
ed for the thicknefs of the fheet, and the.
4 ^ fuperfiuity

fuperfluity . runs off through, the inter- >
ftices of; the wires. • Another man in-
ftantly receives it, opens the frame, and
turns out the thin fheet, which has now
fhape, but not conliftence,. upon foft
felt, which‘is placed on the ground to.
receive it. * On that is placed another-
piece of felt, and then another lheet of
Paper, and fo on till they have' made a
pile of fdrty or fifty. They are then
prefled with a large fcrew-prefs, moved
by a long lever, which forcibly fqUeezes
the water out of them, and gives them
immediate, confiftence. There is ftill,
hpwever, a great deal to be done. The
felts are taken .off 1 , and thrown on one
fide, and the Paper on the other, from
whence it is dexterotifly taken up with
, an inftrument in the form of a T, three
Iheets at a time, and hung on lines to.,
dry. There it hangs for a week or ten
days, which likewife further whitens it 5
and any knots and roughneffes it may
have are picked off carefully by the wo

men. It. is* then- fized. Size is; ai'kind'
of glue:;; and: without .this preparation
the'Paper would-not bear ink; it would
run andi blot as you fee it does on grey-
Paper. The fheets are juft.dipped into'
the fize and taken out,again. The ex-
aft degree of fizing is a- matter of nice
ty, which can only be known by ex
perience. They are then hung up again
to dry, and when dry taken to the fi-
nifhing-room,-where they are examined
anew, preffed in the dry preffes, which,
gives them their laft glofs and fmooth-
nefs ; counted up into quires, made, up
in reams, and fent to the ftationer’s>
from whom we have it, after he has
folded it again and cut the edges; fome
too he makes to fliine like fa tin,- by
gloffing it with hot plates. The whole
procefs of Paper-making takes - about
three weeks. . - r
H. It is a very curious- procefs. in
deed; r fhall almoft fcruple for the fu
ture to blacken a fheet of paper with’a
8 carelefs

Manufacture of-paper* 145
earelefs fcrawl, now I know how much
! pains it colts' to make it fo white and
beautiful. . .
F. It is true that there is hardly any
thing we ufe with fo much wafte and
profufioii as this manufa&ure j we fhould
think ourfelves confined in the ufe of it,
if we might not tear, difperfe, and de-
ftroy it in a thoufand ways; fo that it is
really aftonifliing from whence linen
i enough can be procured to anfwer fo
vaft a demand. As to the coarfe brown
papers, of which an aftoniftypg quantity
is ufed by every fhopkeeper in packages,
&c. thefe are made chiefly of oakum,
that is, old hempen ropes. A fine paper
is made in China of filk. ,
H. I have heard lately of woven Pa
per ; pray what is -that? they cannot
weave Paper, furely 1
P. Your queftion is very natural. I11
order to anfwer it, I muft defire you
to take a fheet of common Paper, and
Vol. II. H ' hold

14-6 TENTH EVENING. ,, *
hold it up again ft the light. Do not
you fee marks-in it ?
H. I fee a great many white lines
running along lengthways, like ribs,
and fmaller that crols them. 1 fee, too,
letters and.the figure of a crown.
F Thefe are all the marks of the
wires; the thicknefs of the wire pre
vents fo much of the pulp'lying upon
the fheet in thole places, confequently
wherever the wires ,are, the Paper is
thinner, and you fee the light through 1
more readily which gives that appear
ance of white lines. The letters too are
worked in the wire,'and are the maker’s
name. Now to prevent thefe lines,
which take off from the beauty of the
Paper, particularly of drawing Paper,
there have been lately ufed moulds of
brafs wire exceeding fine, of equal thick-
nefs, and woven cir latticed one within
another ; the marks, therefore, of thefe
are eafily preffed out, fo as to be hardly
6 vifible;

vifible; if you look at this Iheet you
will fee it is quite fmooth. 1
11 It is fo. â–  ...
F. I fho.uld mention to you,' that
there is a difcovery very lately made,,
by which they can make Paper,equal
to any in whitenefs, of the , coarfeft'
brown rags, and even of dyed cottons;
which they. have till now been obliged
to throw by for inferior purpofes. This
is by means of manganefe, a fort of
mineral, and oil of vitriol 5 a mixture o?
which they juft pafs through the pulp,'
while it is in water, for otherwife it
would burn it, and in an inftant it dis
charges the colours of the dyed cloths,
and bleaches the brown to a. beautiful
H. That is like what you told me
before of bleaching cloth in a feyir
hours. . 1
F. It. is indeed founded upon the
fame difcovery. The paper made of
H 2 _ thefe

ithefe brown rags is likewife more va~
‘ luable, from being very tough and
ftrong, almoft like parchment.
H. When was the making of Paper
found out ? . ~ -
F. It is a difputed point 3 but proba
bly in the fourteenth century. The
invention has been of almoft equal con-
fequence to literature,, as that of print-
ing itfelf ; and ihews how the arts and
fciences/ like children of the fame fa
mily, mutually afiiit and bring forward
each other. . ,
Scene —Alexander the Great in his tent. Guards . . A Man
’with a fierce countenance, chained and fettered, brought be
fore him.
Alex, What, art thou the Thracian
Robber, of whole exploits I have heard
_'fo much ?

Rob. I am a Thracian and a foldier*
A . A foldier !—a thief, a plunderer,
an affaffin! the peft of the country! I
could honour thy courage, but I muft
deteft and punifh thy crimes.
R , What have I done, of which you
can complain ?
A. Haft thou not fet at defiance-my
authority; violated the public peace* 1
and paffed thy life in injuring the per-
fons and properties of thy fellow fub-
je<5ts ?
S R. Alexander! I 'am your captive—.
I muft hear what you pleafe to fay, and
endure what you pleafe to inflid:. But
my foul is unconquered; and if I reply
at all to your reproaches, I will reply
like a free man.
A. Speak freely. Far be it fromlfoe
to take the advantage ^of my power to
filence thofe with whom I deign to con- '
verfe I,
R. I muft then anfwer your queftion
' , by.

by another. Flow have you pailed
your life ?
A> Like a hero: Alii Fame, and
£he will tell you. Among the brave, I
have been the braveft: among fove-
reigns,. the nobleft: among conquerors,
the mightieft. •
• R, And does not Fame {peak of me,
too ? Was there ever a bolder captain
of a more valiant band ? Was there
ever—But I fcorn to boaft. You your.-
felf know that I have not been eafiiy
fubdued. <
A. Still, what are you but a roller —;
a bafe diOionefl: robber ?
R, And what is a conqueror? Have
not you, too, gone about the earth like
an evil genius, blafting the fair fruits of
peace and induftryj—plundering, ra
vaging, killing, without law, without
juftice, merely to gratify an infatiable
luft for dominion ? All that I have done
to a fingle diftrid \yith a hundred fol-
lowers a

lowers, you have done to whole nations
with a hundred thoufand. If I have
flripped individuals, you have ruined
kings and princes. If I have burned a
few hamlets, you have defolated the
moft flourishing kingdoms and cities of
the'earth. What is then .the differ
ence, but that as you were born a,,
king, and I a private man, you have
been able to become a mightier robber
than I? .
A. But if I have taken like a king,
Lhave given like a king. If I have fub-
verted empires, I have founded greater.
I have cherifhed arts, commerce, and
R. I, too, have freely given to the
poor, what I took from the rich. I
have eftablifhed order and difcipline'
among the moft ferocious of rpankind;
and have -ftretched out my protecting
arm over the oppreffed. I know, 'in
deed, little of the philofophy' you talk
' . Of 5

of; but I believe neither you nor X
fhall ever'repay to the world the mif-
chiefs we have done it.
A. Leave me— his chains,
and ufe him well. (Exit robber.)—
Are we then fo much alike ? —Alex*
ander to a robber ?—Let me refled.


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