The History of Sandford and Merton Part 20

As Mr Barlow was not fond of cards, Mr Merton proposed, after the tea-table was removed, that Miss Simmons, who was famous for reading well, should entertain the company with some little tale or history adapted to the comprehension even of the youngest. Miss Simmons excused herself with the greatest modesty; but on Mrs Merton's joining in the request, she instantly complied, and fetching down a book, read the following story of

"SOPHRON AND TIGRANES."

"Sophron and Tigranes were the children of two neighbouring shepherds that fed their flocks in that part of Asia which borders upon Mount Lebanon. They were accustomed to each other from earliest infancy; and the continual habit of conversing at length produced a tender and intimate friendship.

"Sophron was larger and more robust of the two; his look was firm but modest, his countenance placid, and his eyes were such as inspired confidence and attachment. He excelled most of the youth of the neighbourhood in every species of violent exercise--such as wrestling, boxing, and whirling heavyweights; but his triumphs were constantly mixed with so much humanity and courtesy, that even those who found themselves vanquished could feel no envy towards their conqueror.

"On the contrary, Tigranes was of a character totally different. His body was less strong than that of Sophron, but excellently proportioned and adapted to every species of fatigue; his countenance was full of fire, but displeased by an excess of confidence; and his eyes sparkled with sense and meaning, but bore too great an expression of uncontrolled fierceness.

"Nor were these two youths less different in the application of their faculties than in the nature of them; for Tigranes seemed to be possessed by a restless spirit of commanding all his equals, while Sophron, contented with the enjoyment of tranquillity, desired nothing more than to avoid oppression.

"Still, as they a.s.sisted their parents in leading every morning their flocks to pasture, they entertained each other with rural sports; or, while reposing under the shade of arching rocks during the heat of the day, conversed with all the ease of childish friendship. Their observations were not many; they were chiefly drawn from the objects of nature which surrounded them, or from the simple mode of life to which they had been witness; but even here the diversity of their characters was sufficiently expressed.

"'See,' said Tigranes, one day, as he cast his eyes upwards to the cliffs of a neighbouring rock, 'that eagle which riseth into the immense regions of air, till he absolutely soars beyond the reach of sight; were I a bird, I should choose to resemble him, that I might traverse the clouds with a rapidity of a whirlwind, and dart like lightning upon my prey.' 'That eagle,' answered Sophron, 'is the emblem of violence and injustice; he is the enemy of every bird, and even of every beast, that is weaker than himself; were I to choose, I should prefer the life of yonder swan, that moves so smoothly and inoffensively along the river; he is strong enough to defend himself from injury, without opposing others, and therefore he is neither feared nor insulted by other animals.'

"While Sophron was yet speaking, the eagle, who had been hovering in the air, darted suddenly down at some distance, and seizing a lamb, was bearing it away in his cruel talons; when, almost in the same instant, a shepherd, who had been watching all his motions from a neighbouring hill, let fly an arrow with so unerring an aim, that it pierced the body of the bird, and brought him headlong to the ground, writhing in the agonies of death.

"'This,' said Sophron, 'I have often heard, is the fate of ambitious people; while they are endeavouring to mount beyond their fellows they are stopped by some unforeseen misfortune.' 'For my part,' said Tigranes, 'I had rather perish in the sky than enjoy an age of life, basely chained down and grovelling upon the surface of the earth.' 'What we either may enjoy,' answered Sophron, 'is in the hand of Heaven; but may I rather creep during life than mount to commit injustice, and oppress the innocent.'

"In this manner pa.s.sed the early years of the two friends. As they grew up to manhood the difference of their tempers became more visible, and gradually alienated them from each other. Tigranes began to despise the uniform labours of the shepherd and the humble occupations of the country; his sheep were neglected, and frequently wandered over the plains without a leader to guard them in the day, or bring them back at night; and the greater part of his time was employed in climbing rocks, or in traversing the forest, to seek for eagles' nests, or in piercing with his arrows the different wild animals which inhabit the woods. If he heard the horn of the hunter, or the cry of the hound, it was impossible to restrain his eagerness; he regarded neither the summer's sun nor the winter's frost while he was pursuing his game; the thickest woods, the steepest mountains, the deepest rivers, were unable to stop him in his career, and he triumphed over every danger and difficulty, with such invincible courage as made him at once an object of terror and admiration to all the youth in the neighbourhood. His friend Sophron alone beheld his exploits neither with terror nor admiration. Of all his comrades, Sophron was the only one whom Tigranes still continued to respect; for he knew that, with a gentleness of temper which scarcely anything could exasperate, he possessed the firmest courage and a degree of bodily strength which rendered that courage invincible. He affected, indeed, to despise the virtuous moderation of his friend, and ridiculed it with some of his looser comrades as an abject pusillanimity; but he felt himself humbled whenever he was in his company as before a superior being, and therefore gradually estranged himself from his society.

"Sophron, on the contrary, entertained the sincerest regard for his friend; but he knew his defects, and trembled for the consequences which the violence and ambition of his character might one day produce.

Whenever Tigranes abandoned his flocks, or left his rustic tasks undone, Sophron had the goodness to supply whatever he had omitted. Such was the vigour of his const.i.tution, that he was indefatigable in every labour, nor did he ever exert his force more willingly than in performing these voluntary duties to his absent friend. Whenever he met with Tigranes he accosted him in the gentlest manner, and endeavoured to win him back to his former habits and manners. He represented to him the injury he did his parents, and the disquietude he occasioned in their minds by thus abandoning the duties of his profession. He sometimes, but with the greatest mildness, hinted at the coldness with which Tigranes treated him, and reminded his friend of the pleasing intercourse of their childhood. But all his remonstrances were vain; Tigranes heard him at first with coolness, then with impatience or contempt, and at last avoided him altogether.

"Sophron had a lamb which he had formerly saved from the devouring jaws of a wolf, who had already bitten him in several places, and destroyed his dam. The tenderness with which this benevolent young man had nursed and fed him during his infancy, had so attached him to his master, that he seemed to prefer his society to that of his own species. Wherever Sophron went, the faithful lamb accompanied him like his dogs, lay down beside him when he reposed, and followed close behind when he drove the rest of the flock to pasture. Sophron was equally attached to his dumb companion: he often diverted himself with his innocent gambols, fed him with the choicest herbs out of his hands, and when he slept at nights the lamb was sure to repose beside him.

"It happened about this time that Tigranes, as he was one day exploring the woods, discovered the den of a she-wolf, in which she had left her young ones while she went out to search for prey. By a caprice that was natural to his temper, he chose out the largest of the whelps, carried it home to his house, and brought it up as if it had been a useful and harmless animal. While it was yet but young it was incapable of doing mischief; but as it increased in age and strength, it began to show signs of a b.l.o.o.d.y and untameable disposition, and made all the neighbouring shepherds tremble for the safety of their flocks. But as the courage and fierceness of Tigranes had now rendered him formidable to all his a.s.sociates, and the violence of his temper made him impatient of all opposition, they did not speak to him on the subject; and as to his own parents, he had long learned to treat them with indifference and contempt. Sophron alone, who was not to be awed by fear, observing the just apprehensions of the neighbourhood, undertook the task of expostulating with his friend, and endeavoured to prevail upon him to part with a beast so justly odious, and which might in the end prove fatal whenever his natural rage should break out into open acts of slaughter. Tigranes heard him with a sneer of derision, and only answered, that 'if a parcel of miserable rustics diverted themselves with keeping sheep, he, who had a more elevated soul, might surely entertain a n.o.bler animal for his diversion.' 'But should that n.o.bler animal prove a public mischief,' coolly replied Sophron, 'you must expect that he will be treated as a public enemy.' 'Woe be to the man,'

answered Tigranes, brandishing his javelin, and sternly frowning, 'that shall dare to meddle with anything that belongs to me.' Saying this, he turned his back upon Sophron, and left him with disdain.

"It was not long before the very event took place which had been so long foreseen. The wolf of Tigranes, either impelled by the accidental taste of blood, or by the natural fierceness of his own temper, fell one day upon the sheep, with such an unexpected degree of fury that he slaughtered thirty of them before it was possible to prevent him.

Sophron happened at that time to be within view; he ran with amazing swiftness to the place, and found the savage bathed in blood, tearing the carca.s.s of a lamb he had just slain. At the approach of the daring youth the wolf began to utter a dismal cry, and, quitting his prey, seemed to prepare himself for slaughter of another kind. Sophron was entirely unarmed, and the size and fury of the beast, which rushed forward to attack him, might well have excused him had he declined the combat. But he, consulting only his native courage, wrapped his shepherd's cloak around his left arm, to resist the first onset of his enemy, and, with a determined look and nimble pace, advanced towards his threatening adversary. In an instant the wolf sprang upon him, with a horrid yell; but Sophron nimbly eluded his attack, and suddenly throwing his vigorous arms about the body of his adversary, compelled him to struggle for his own safety. It was then that he uttered cries more dreadful than before; and as he writhed about in all the agitations of pain and madness, he gnashed his terrible teeth with impotent attempts to bite, while the blood and foam which issued from his jaws rendered his figure still more horrible than before. But Sophron, with undaunted courage, still maintained his hold, and grasping him with irresistible strength, prevented him from using either his teeth or claws in his own defence. It was not long before the struggles and violence of the wolf grew perceptibly weaker from fatigue, and he seemed to wish to decline a further combat with so formidable a foe, could he have found means to escape. Sophron then collected all his strength, and, seizing his fainting adversary by the neck and throat, grasped him still tighter in his terrible hands, till the beast, incapable either of disengaging himself or breathing, yielded up the contest and his life together.

"It was almost in this moment that Tigranes pa.s.sed that way, and unexpectedly was witness to the triumphs of Sophron, and the miserable end of his favourite. Inflamed with pride and indignation, Tigranes uttered dreadful imprecations against his friend, who in vain attempted to explain the transaction, and rushing upon him with all the madness of inveterate hate, aimed a javelin at his bosom. Sophron was calm as he was brave; he saw the necessity of defending his own life against the attacks of a perfidious friend, and, with a nimble spring, at once eluded the weapon and closed with his antagonist. The combat was then more equal, for each was reduced to depend upon his own strength and activity. They struggled for some time with all the efforts which disappointed rage could inspire on the one side, and a virtuous indignation on the other. At length the fortune, or rather the force and coolness of Sophron, prevailed over the blind impetuous fury of Tigranes; he at once exerted his whole remaining strength, with such success that he hurled his adversary to the ground, where he lay, bleeding, vanquished, and unable to rise. 'Thou scarcely,' said Sophron, 'deservest thy life from my hands, who couldst so wantonly and unjustly attempt to deprive me of mine; however, I will rather remember thy early merits than my recent injuries.' 'No,' replied the raging Tigranes, 'load me not with thy odious benefits; but rather rid me of a life which I abhor, since thou hast robbed me of my honour.' 'I will never hurt thee,' replied Sophron, 'but in my own just defence; live to make a better use of life, and to have juster ideas of honour.' Saying this, he a.s.sisted Tigranes to rise, but finding his temper full of implacable resentment, he turned another way, and left him to go home alone.

"It was not long after this event that a company of soldiers marched across the plains where Sophron was feeding his flocks, and halted to refresh themselves under the shade of some spreading trees. The officer who commanded them was struck with the comely figure and expressive countenance of Sophron. He called the young man to him, and endeavoured to inflame him with a military ardour, by setting before him the glory which might be acquired by arms, and ridiculing the obscurity of a country life. When he thought he had sufficiently excited his admiration, he proposed to him that he should enrol himself in his company; and promised him every encouragement which he thought most likely to engage the pa.s.sions of a young man. Sophron thanked him, with humility, for his offers, but told him he had an aged father, who was now become incapable of maintaining himself, and therefore that he could accept of no offers, however advantageous they might appear, which would interfere with the discharge of this duty. The officer replied, and ridiculed the scruples of the young man; but, finding him inflexible in his resolution, he at last turned from him with an air of contempt, and called his men to follow him, muttering, as he went, reflections on the stupidity and cowardice of Sophron.

"The party had not proceeded far, before, by ill fortune, they came to the place where Sophron's favourite lamb was feeding; and as the animal had not yet learned to dread the cruelty of the human species, it advanced towards them with all the confidence of unsuspicious innocence.

'This is a lucky accident,' cried one of the soldiers, with a brutal satisfaction; 'fortune was not willing we should go without a supper, and has therefore sent us a present.' 'A happy exchange,' answered a second; 'a fat sheep for a lubberly shepherd; and the coward will no doubt think himself happy to sleep in a whole skin at so small an expense.' Saying this, he took the lamb, and bore it away in triumph, uttering a thousand threats and execrations against the master if he should dare to reclaim it.

"Sophron was not so far removed to escape the sight of the indignity that was offered him. He followed the troop, with so much swiftness that it was not long before he overtook the soldier who was bearing away his friend, and from his load marched rather behind the rest. When Sophron approached him, he accosted him in the gentlest manner, and besought him, in words that might have touched any one but a savage, to restore his favourite; he even offered, when he found that nothing else would avail, to purchase back his own property with something of greater value; but the barbarous soldier, inured to scenes of misery, and little accustomed to yield to human entreaties, only laughed at his complaints, and loaded him with additional insults. At length he began to be tired with his importunities, and drawing his sword, and waving it before the eyes of Sophron, threatened, that if he did not depart immediately he would use him as he intended to do the lamb. 'And do you think,'

answered Sophron, 'that while I have an arm to lift, or a drop of blood in my veins, I will suffer you, or any man, to rob me of what I value more than life?' The soldier, exasperated at such an insolent reply, as he termed it, aimed a blow at Sophron with his sword, which he turned aside with a stick he held in his hand, so that it glanced inoffensively down; and before he could recover the use of his weapon, Sophron, who was infinitely stronger, closed in with him, wrested it out of his hands, and hurled him roughly to the ground. Some of the comrades of the vanquished soldier came in an instant to his a.s.sistance, and without inquiring into the merits of the cause, drew their swords, and began to a.s.sail the undaunted young man; but he, brandishing the weapon which he had just seized, appeared ready to defend himself, with so much strength and courage that they did not choose to come too near.

"While they were thus engaged, the officer, who had turned back at the first noise of the fray, approached, and ordering his men to desist, inquired into the occasion of the contest. Sophron then recounted, with so much modesty and respect, the indignities and insults he had received, and the unprovoked attack of the soldier, which had obliged him to defend his own life, that the officer, who had a real respect for courage, was charmed with the behaviour of the young man. He therefore reproved his men for their disorderly manners, praised the intrepidity of Sophron, and ordered his lamb to be restored to him, with which he joyfully departed.

"Sophron was scarcely out of sight, when Tigranes, who was then by accident returning from the chase, met the same party upon their march.

Their military attire and glittering arms instantly struck his mind with admiration. He stopped to gaze upon them as they pa.s.sed; and the officer, who remarked the martial air and well-proportioned limbs of Tigranes, entered into conversation with him, and made him the same proposals which he had before done to Sophron. Such incentives were irresistible to a vain and ambitious mind; the young man in an instant forgot his friends, his country, and his parents, and marched away with all the pleasure that strong presumption and aspiring hopes could raise.

Nor was it long before he had an opportunity of signalizing his intrepidity.

"Asia was at that time overrun by numerous bands of savage warriors, under different and independent chiefs. That country, which has in every age been celebrated for the mildness of the climate and the fertility of the soil, seems to be destined to groan under all the horrors of eternal servitude. Whether these effects are merely produced by fortune, or whether the natural advantages it enjoys have a necessary tendency to soften the minds of the inhabitants to sloth and effeminacy, it is certain that the people of Asia have, in general, been the unresisting prey of every invader. At this time several fierce and barbarous nations had broken in upon its territory, and, after covering its fertile plains with carnage and desolation, were contending with each other for the superiority.

"Under the most enterprising of these rival chiefs was Tigranes now enrolled; and in the very first engagement at which he was present, he gave such uncommon proofs of valour, that he was distinguished by the general with marks of particular regard, and became the admiration of all his comrades. Under the banners of this adventurous warrior did Tigranes toil with various fortunes during the s.p.a.ce of many years; sometimes victorious in the fight, sometimes baffled; at one time crowned with conquest and glory, at another beset with dangers, covered with wounds, and hunted like a wild beast through rocks and forests; yet still the native courage of his temper sustained his spirits, and kept him firm in the profession which he had chosen. At length, in a decisive battle, in which the chieftain, under whom Tigranes had enlisted, contended with the most powerful of his rivals, he had the honour of retrieving the victory when his own party seemed totally routed; and, after having penetrated the thickest squadrons of the enemy, to kill their general with his own hand. From this moment he seemed to be in possession of all that his ambition could desire. He was appointed general of all the troops under the chief himself, whose repeated victories had rendered him equal in power to the most celebrated monarchs. Nor did his fortune stop even here; for, after a number of successive battles, in which his party were generally victorious by his experience and intrepidity, he was, on the unexpected death of the chief, unanimously chosen by the whole nation to succeed him.

"In the mean time Sophron, free from envy, avarice, or ambition, pursued the natural impulse of his character, and contented himself with a life of virtuous obscurity; he pa.s.sed his time in rural labours, in watching his flocks, and in attending with all the duty of an affectionate child upon his aged parents. Every morning he rose with the sun, and spreading his innocent arms to heaven, thanked that Being who created all nature for the continuance of life and health, and all the blessings he enjoyed. His piety and virtue were rewarded with everything which a temperate and rational mind can ask. All his rural labours succeeded in the most ample manner; his flock was the fairest, the most healthy and numerous of the district; he was loved and esteemed by the youth of the neighbourhood, and equally respected by the aged, who pointed him out as the example of every virtue to their families; but, what was more dear than all the rest to such a mind as Sophron's, was to see himself the joy, the comfort, and support of his parents, who frequently embraced him with tears, and supplicated the Deity to reward such duty and affection with all His choicest blessings.

"Nor was his humanity confined to his own species; the innocent inhabitants of the forest were safe from the pursuit of Sophron; and all that lived under his protection were sure to meet with distinguished tenderness. 'It is enough,' said Sophron, 'that the innocent sheep supplies me with his fleece to form my winter garments, and defend me from the cold; I will not bereave him of his little life, nor stop his harmless gambols on the green, to gratify a guilty sensuality. It is surely enough that the stately heifer affords me copious streams of pure and wholesome food; I will not arm my hand against her innocent existence; I will not pollute myself with her blood, nor tear her warm and panting flesh with a cruelty that we abhor even in savage beasts.

More wholesome, more adapted to human life, are the spontaneous fruits which liberal nature produces for the sustenance of man, or which the earth affords to recompense his labours.'"

Here the interest and concern which had been long visible in Tommy's face, could no longer be repressed, and tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "What is the matter, my darling?" said his mother: "what is there in the account of this young man so deeply interests and affects you?" "Alas! mamma," said Tommy, "it reminds of poor Harry Sandford; just such another good young man will he be when he is as old as Sophron; and I--and I," added he, sobbing, "am just such another worthless, ungrateful wretch as Tigranes." "But Tigranes," said Mrs Merton, "you see, became a great and powerful man; while Sophron remained only a poor and ignorant shepherd." "What does that signify, mamma?" said Tommy: "for my part, I begin to find that it is not always the greatest people that are the best or happiest; and as to ignorance, I cannot think that Sophron, who understood his duty so well to his parents and to G.o.d, and to all the world, could be called ignorant; and very likely he could read and write better than Tigranes, in spite of all his pomp and grandeur; for I am sure there is not one of the young gentlemen that went home to-day can read as well as Harry Sandford, or has half his understanding." Mr Merton could hardly help smiling at Tommy's conjecture about Sophron's reading; but he felt the greatest pleasure at seeing such a change in his sentiments; and, looking at him with more cordiality than he had done before, he told him that he was very happy to find him so sensible of his faults, and hoped he would be equally ready to amend them.

Miss Simmons then continued her narrative.

"If Sophron ever permitted himself to shed the blood of living creatures, it was those ferocious animals that wage continual war with every other species. Amid the mountains which he inhabited, there were rugged cliffs and inaccessible caverns, which afforded retreat to wolves, and bears, and tigers. Sometimes, amid the storms and snows of winter, they felt themselves pinched by hunger, and fell with irresistible fury upon the nearest flocks and herds. Not only sheep and oxen were slaughtered in these dreadful and unexpected attacks, but even the shepherds themselves were frequently the victims of their rage. If there was time to a.s.semble for their defence, the boldest of the youth would frequently seize their arms and give battle to the invaders. In this warfare, which was equally just and honourable, Sophron was always foremost; his unequalled strength and courage made all the youth adopt him as their leader, and march with confidence under his command; and so successful were his expeditions, that he always returned loaded with the skins of vanquished enemies; and by his vigilance and intrepidity he at length either killed or drove away most of the beasts from which any danger was to be feared.

"It happened one day that Sophron had been chasing a wolf which had made some depredations upon the flocks, and, in the ardour of his pursuits, was separated from all his companions. He was too well acquainted with the roughest parts of the neighbouring mountains, and too indifferent to danger, to be disturbed at this circ.u.mstance; he therefore followed his flying foe with so much impetuosity that he completely lost every track and mark with which he was acquainted. As it is difficult, in a wild and uncultivated district, to find the path again when once it is lost, Sophron only wandered the farther from his home the more he endeavoured to return. He found himself bewildered and entangled in a dreary wilderness, where he was every instant stopped by torrents that tumbled from the neighbouring cliffs, or in danger of slipping down the precipices of an immense height. He was alone in the midst of a gloomy forest, where human industry had never penetrated, nor the woodman's axe been heard since the moment of its creation; to add to his distress, the setting sun disappeared in the west, and the shades of night gathered gradually round, accompanied with the roar of savage beasts. Sophron found himself beset with terrors, but his soul was incapable of fear; he poised his javelin in his hand, and forced his way through every opposition, till at length, with infinite difficulty, he disengaged himself from the forest just as the last glimmer of light was yet visible in the skies. But it was in vain that he had thus escaped; he cast his eyes around, but could discern nothing but an immense tract of country, rough with rocks, and overhung with forests, but dest.i.tute of every mark of cultivation or inhabitants; he, however, pursued his way along the side of the mountain till he descended into a pleasant valley, free from trees, and watered by a winding stream. Here he was going to repose for the remainder of the night, under the crag of an impending rock, when a rising gleam of light darted suddenly into the skies from a considerable distance, and attracted his curiosity. Sophron looked towards the quarter whence it came, and plainly discerned that it was a fire kindled either by some benighted traveller like himself, or by some less innocent wanderers of the dark. He determined to approach the light, but knowing the unsettled state of all the neighbouring districts, he thought it prudent to advance with caution; he therefore made a considerable circuit, and by clambering along the higher grounds discovered a hanging wood, under whose thick covert he approached without being discovered, within a little distance of the fire. He then perceived that a party of soldiers were reposing round a flaming pile of wood, and carousing at their ease; all about was strewn the plunder which they had acc.u.mulated in their march, and in the midst was seated a venerable old man, accompanied by a beautiful young woman.

"Sophron easily comprehended, by the dejection of their countenances, and the tears which trickled down the maiden's cheeks, as well as by the insolence with which they were treated, that they were prisoners. The virtuous indignation of his temper was instantly excited, and he determined to attempt their deliverance; but this, in spite of all his intrepidity, he perceived was no easy matter to accomplish; he was alone, and weakly armed; his enemies, though not numerous, too many for him to flatter himself with any rational hope of success by open force; and, should he make a fruitless effort, he might rashly throw his life away, and only aggravate the distresses he sought to cure. With this consideration he restrained his natural impetuosity, and at length determined to attempt by stratagem what he thought could scarcely be performed by force. He therefore silently withdrew, and skirted the side of the wood which had concealed him, carefully remarking every circ.u.mstance of the way, till he had ascended a mountain which immediately fronted the camp of the soldiers, at no considerable distance. He happened to have by his side a kind of battle-axe which they use in the chase of bears; with this he applied himself to lopping the branches of trees, collecting at the same time all the fallen ones he could find, till, in a short time, he had reared several piles of wood upon the most conspicuous part of the mountain, and full in view of the soldiers. He then easily kindled a blaze by rubbing two decayed branches together, and in an instant all the piles were blazing with so many streams of light, that the neighbouring hills and forests were illuminated with the gleam. Sophron knew the nature of man, always p.r.o.ne to sudden impressions of fear and terror, more particularly amid the obscurity of the night, and promised himself the amplest success from his stratagem.

"In the meantime he hastened back with all the speed he could use, till he reached the very wood where he had lurked before; he then raised his voice, which was naturally loud and clear, and shouted several times successively with all his exertion. A hundred echoes from the neighbouring cliffs and caverns returned the sound, with a reverberation that made it appear like the noise of a mighty squadron. The soldiers, who had been alarmed by the sudden blaze of so many fires, which they attributed to a numerous band of troops, were now impressed with such a panic that they fled in confusion; they imagined themselves surrounded by their enemies, who were bursting in on every side, and fled with so much precipitation that they were dispersed in an instant, and left the prisoners to themselves.

"Sophron, who saw from a little distance all their motions, did not wait for them to be undeceived, but running to the spot they had abandoned, explained in a few words to the trembling and amazed captives the nature of his stratagem, and exhorted them to fly with all the swiftness they were able to exert. Few entreaties were necessary to prevail upon them to comply; they therefore arose and followed Sophron, who led them a considerable way up into the mountains, and when he thought them out of the immediate danger of pursuit, they sheltered themselves in a rocky cavern, and determined there to wait for the light of the morning.

"When they were thus in a place of safety, the venerable old man seized the hand of Sophron, and bedewing it with tears, gave way to the strong emotions of grat.i.tude which overwhelmed his mind. 'Generous youth,' said he, 'I know not by what extraordinary fortune you have thus been able to effect our deliverance, when we imagined ourselves out of the reach of human succour; but if the uniform grat.i.tude and affection of two human beings, who perhaps are not entirely unworthy your regard, can be any recompense for such a distinguished act of virtue, you may command our lives, and employ them in your service.'

"'Father,' answered Sophron, 'you infinitely over-rate the merits of the service which chance has enabled me to perform. I am but little acquainted with my fellow-creatures, as having always inhabited these mountains; but I cannot conceive that any other man, who had been witness to your distress, would have refused to attempt your rescue; and as to all the rest, the obscurity of the night, and peculiarity of the situation, rendered it a work of little difficulty or danger.' Sophron then recounted to his new friends the accident which had brought him to that unfrequented spot, and made him an unperceived witness of their captivity; he also explained the nature of the stratagem by which, alone and unsupported, he had been enabled to disperse their enemies. He added that, 'if he appeared to have any little merit in their eyes, he should be amply recompensed by being admitted to their friendship and confidence.'

"With these mutual professions of esteem they thought it prudent to terminate a conversation, which, however agreeable, was not entirely free from danger, as some of their late oppressors might happen to distinguish their voices, and thus directed to their lurking place, exact a severe revenge for the terrors they had undergone.

"With the first ray of morning the three companions arose, and Sophron, leading them along the skirts of the mountains where bushes and brushwood concealed them from observation, and still following the windings of a river as a guide, they at length came to a cultivated spot, though deserted by its inhabitants from the fear of the party they had lately escaped. Here they made a slight and hasty repast upon some coa.r.s.e provisions which they found, and instantly struck again into the woods, which they judged safer than the plain. But Sophron fortunately recollected that he had formerly visited this village with his father, while yet a child, and before the country had suffered the rage of barbarous invasions. It was a long day's march from home, but, by exerting all their strength, they at length arrived, through rough and secret paths, at the hospitable cottage where Sophron and his parents dwelt. Here they were joyfully received, as the long absence of the young man had much alarmed his parents, and made all the hamlet anxious concerning his safety. That night they comfortably reposed in a place of safety, and the next morning, after a plentiful but coa.r.s.e repast, the father of Sophron again congratulated his guests upon their fortunate escape, and entreated them to let him hear the history of their misfortunes.

"'I can refuse nothing,' said the venerable stranger, 'to persons to whom I am under such extraordinary obligations, although the history of my life is short and simple, and contains little worthy to be recited.

My name is _Chares_; and I was born in one of the maritime cities of Asia, of opulent parents, who died while I was yet a youth. The loss of my parents, to whom I was most affectionately attached, made so strong an impression upon my mind that I determined to seek relief in travel, and for that purpose sold my paternal estate, the price of which I converted into money and jewels, as being most portable. My father had been a man distinguished for his knowledge and abilities, and from him I imbibed an early desire of improvement, which has always been my greatest comfort and support.

"'The first place, therefore, which I visited was Egypt, a country renowned in every age for its invention of all the arts which contribute to support or adorn human life. There I resided several years, giving up my time to the study of philosophy, and to the conversation of the many eminent men who resorted thither from all the regions of the world. This country is one immense plain, divided by the Nile, which is one of the n.o.blest rivers in the world, and pours its tide along the middle of its territory. Every year, at a particular season, the stream begins gradually to swell with such an increase of waters, that at length it rises over its banks, and the whole extent of Egypt becomes an immense lake, where buildings, temples, and cities appear as floating upon the inundation. Nor is this event a subject of dread to the inhabitants; on the contrary, the overflowing of their river is a day of public rejoicing to all the natives, which they celebrate with songs and dances, and every symptom of extravagant joy.

Nor is this to be wondered at, when you are informed that this inundation renders the soil which it covers the most abundant in the world. Whatever land is covered by the waters, receives such an increase of fertility, as never to disappoint the hopes of the industrious husbandman. The instant the waters have retired the farmer returns to his fields and begins the operation of agriculture. These labours are not very difficult in a soft and yielding slime, such as the river leaves behind it. The seeds are sown, and vegetate with inconceivable rapidity, and, in a few weeks, an abundant harvest of every kind of grain covers the land. For this reason all the necessaries of life are easily procured by the innumerable mult.i.tudes which inhabit the country.

Nor is the climate less favourable than the soil; for here an eternal spring and summer seem to have fixed their abode. No frost nor snow is ever known to chill the atmosphere, which is always perfumed with the smell of aromatic plants that grow on every side, and bring on a pleasing forgetfulness of human care. But, alas! these blessings, great as they may appear, produce the effect of curses upon the inhabitants.

The ease and plenty which they enjoy, enervate their manners, and destroy all vigour both of body and mind. No one here is inflamed with the sacred love of his country, or of public liberty; no one is inured to arms, or taught to prefer his honour to his life;--the great business of existence is an inglorious indolence, a lethargy of mind, and a continual suspense from all exertion. The very children catch the contagion from their parents; they are instructed in every effeminate art--to dance in soft unmanly att.i.tudes; to modulate their voices by musical instruments, and to adjust the floating drapery of their dress.

These are the arts in which both s.e.xes are instructed from their infancy; but no one is taught to wield the arms of men, to tame the n.o.ble steeds in which the country abounds, to observe his rank in war, or to bear the indispensable hardships of a military life. Hence this celebrated country, which has been in every age the admiration of mankind, is destined to the most degrading servitude. A few thousand disciplined troops are sufficient to hold the many millions it contains in bondage, under which they groan, without ever conceiving the design of vindicating their natural rights by arms.'----

"'Unhappy people,' exclaimed Sophron, 'how useless to them are all the blessings of their climate! How much rather would I inhabit the stormy top of Lebanon, amid eternal snows and barrenness, than wallow in the vile sensuality of such a country, or breathe an air infected by its vices!'

"Chares was charmed with the generous indignation of Sophron, and thus continued: 'I was of the same opinion with yourself, and therefore determined to leave a country which all its natural advantages could not render agreeable, when I became acquainted with the manners of its inhabitants. But before I quitted that part of the globe, my curiosity led me to visit the neighbouring tribes of Arabia--a nation bordering upon the Egyptians, but as different in spirits and manners as the hardy shepherds of these mountains from the effeminate natives of the plains.

Egypt is bounded on one side by the sea; on every other it is surrounded by immense plains or gentle eminences, which, being beyond the fertilizing inundations of the Nile, have been, beyond all memory, converted into waste and barren sands by the excessive heat of the sun.

I therefore made preparations for my journey, and hired a guide, who was to furnish me with beasts of burden, and accompany me across those dreary deserts. We accordingly began our march, mounted upon camels, which are found much more useful than horses in such a burning climate.'"----

"Indeed," said Tommy here to Mr Barlow, "I am sorry to interrupt the story; but I shall be much obliged to you, sir, if you will inform me what kind of an animal a camel is?"

"The camel," answered Mr Barlow, "is chiefly found in those burning climates which you have heard described. His height is very great, rising to fourteen or fifteen feet, reckoning to the top of his head; his legs are long and slender, his body not large, and his neck of an amazing length. This animal is found in no part of the world that we are acquainted with, wild or free; but the whole race is enslaved by man, and brought up to drudgery from the first moment of their existence. As soon as he is born, they seize him, and force him to recline upon the ground, with his legs doubled up under his belly. To keep him in this att.i.tude, they extend a piece of canva.s.s over his body, and fix it to the ground by laying heavy weights upon the edge. In this manner he is tutored to obedience, and taught to kneel down at the orders of his master, and receive the burthens which he is destined to transport. In his temper he is gentle and tractable, and his patience in bearing thirst and hunger is superior to that of any animal we are acquainted with. He is driven across the burning desert, loaded with the merchandise of those countries, and frequently does not even find water to quench his thirst for several days. As to his food, it is nothing but a few herbs, which are found in the least barren parts of the deserts, and p.r.i.c.kly bushes, upon which he browses as a delicacy; sometimes he does not find even these for many days, yet pursues his journey with a degree of patience which is hardly credible."