Chapter 3
Once little Harry came in from his father’s house, and brought with him the chicken, which, it had been mentioned, he had saved from the claws of the kite. The little animal was now perfectly recovered of the hurt it had received, and showed so great a degree of affection to its protector, that it would run after him like a dog, hop upon his shoulder, nestle in his bosom, and eat crumbs out of his hand. Tommy was extremely surprised and pleased to remark its tameness and docility, and asked by what means it had been made so gentle. Harry told him he had taken no particular pains about it; but that, as the poor little creature had been sadly hurt, he had fed it every day till it was well; and that, in consequence of that kindness, it had conceived a great degree of affection towards him.
“Indeed,” said Tommy, “that is very surprising; for I thought all birds had flown away whenever a man came near them, and that even the fowls which are kept at home would never let you touch them.” Mr Barlow—And what do you imagine is the reason of that? Tommy—Because they are wild. Mr B.—And what is a fowl’s being wild? T.—When he will not let you come near him. Mr B.—Then a fowl is wild because he will not let you come near him. This is saying nothing more than that when a fowl is wild he will not let you approach him. But I want to know what is the reason of his being wild. T.—Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, unless it is because they are naturally so. Mr B.—But if they were naturally so, this fowl could not be fond of Harry. T.—That is because he is so good to it. Mr B.—Very likely. Then it is not natural for an animal to run away from a person that is good to him? T.—No, sir; I believe not. Mr B.—But when a person is not good to him, or endeavours to hurt him, it is natural for an animal to run away from him, is it not? T.—Yes. Mr B.—And then you say he is wild, do you not? T.—Yes, sir. Mr B.—Why, then, it is probable that animals are only wild because they are afraid of being hurt, and that they only run away from the fear of danger. I believe you would do the same from a lion or a tiger. T.—Indeed I would, sir. Mr B.—And yet you do not call yourself a wild animal? Tommy laughed heartily at this, and said No. “Therefore,” said Mr Barlow, “if you want to tame animals, you must be good to them, and treat them kindly, and then they will no longer fear you, but come to you and love you.” “Indeed,” said Harry, “that is very true; for I knew a little boy that took a great fancy to a snake that lived in his father’s garden; and, when he had the milk for breakfast, he used to sit under a nut tree and whistle, and the snake would come to him and eat out of his bowl.” T.—And did it not bite him? H.—No; he sometimes used to give it a pat with his spoon, if it ate too fast; but it never hurt him.
Tommy was much pleased with this conversation; and, being both good-natured and desirous of making experiments, he determined to try his skill in taming animals. Accordingly, he took a large slice of bread in his hand, and went out to seek some animal that he might give it to. The first thing that he happened to meet was a sucking pig that had rambled from its mother, and was basking in the sun. Tommy would not neglect the opportunity of showing his talents; he therefore called Pig, pig, pig! come hither, little pig! But the pig, who did not exactly comprehend his intentions, only grunted, and ran away. “You little ungrateful thing,” said Tommy, “do you treat me in this manner, when I want to feed you? If you do not know your friends I must teach you.” So saying this, he sprang at the pig, and caught him by the hind-leg, intending to have given him the bread which he had in his hand; but the pig, who was not used to be treated in that manner, began struggling and squeaking to that degree, that the sow, who was within hearing, came running to the place, with all the rest of the litter at her heels. As Tommy did not know whether she would be pleased with his civilities to her young one or not, he thought it most prudent to let it go; and the pig, endeavouring to escape as speedily as possible, unfortunately ran between his legs and threw him down. The place where this accident happened was extremely wet; therefore Tommy, in falling, dirtied himself from head to foot; and the sow, who came up at that instant, passed over him, as he attempted to rise, and rolled him back again into the mire.
Tommy, who was not the coolest in his temper, was extremely provoked at this ungrateful return for his intended kindness; and, losing all patience, he seized the sow by the hind-leg and began pommelling her with all his might, as she attempted to escape. The sow, as may be imagined, did not relish such treatment, but endeavoured with all her force to escape; but Tommy still keeping his hold, and continuing his discipline, she struggled with such violence as to drag him several yards, squeaking at the same time in the most lamentable manner, in which she was joined by the whole litter of pigs.
During the heat of this contest a large flock of geese happened to be crossing the road, into the midst of which the affrighted sow ran headlong, dragging the enraged Tommy at her heels. The goslings retreated with the greatest precipitation, joining their mournful cackling to the general noise; but a gander of more than common size and courage, resenting the unprovoked attack which had been made upon his family, flew at Tommy’s hinder parts, and gave him several severe strokes with his bill.
Tommy, whose courage had hitherto been unconquerable, being thus unexpectedly attacked by a new enemy, was obliged to yield to fortune, and not knowing the precise extent of his danger, he not only suffered the sow to escape, but joined his vociferations to the general scream. This alarmed Mr Barlow, who, coming up to the place, found his pupil in the most woeful plight, daubed from head to foot, with his face and hands as black as those of any chimney-sweeper. He inquired what was the matter; and Tommy, as soon as he had recovered breath enough to speak, answered in this manner: “Sir, all this is owing to what you told me about taming animals; I wanted to make them tame and gentle, and to love me, and you see the consequences.” “Indeed,” said Mr Barlow, “I see you have been ill-treated, but I hope you are not hurt; and if it is owing to anything I have said, I shall feel the more concern.” “No,” said Tommy, “I cannot say that I am much hurt.” “Why, then,” said Mr Barlow, “you had better go and wash yourself; and, when you are clean, we will talk over the affair together.”
When Tommy had returned, Mr Barlow asked him how the accident had happened? and when he had heard the story, he said, “I am very sorry for your misfortune; but I do not perceive that I was the cause of it, for I do not remember that I ever advised you to catch pigs by the hinder leg.” Tommy.—No, sir; but you told me that feeding animals was the way to make them love me; and so I wanted to feed the pig. Mr B.—But it was not my fault that you attempted it in a wrong manner. The animal did not know your intentions, and therefore, when you seized him in so violent a manner, he naturally attempted to escape, and his mother hearing his cries, very naturally came to his assistance. All that happened was owing to your inexperience. Before you meddle with any animal, you should make yourself acquainted with his nature and disposition, otherwise you may fare like the little boy that, in attempting to catch flies, was stung by a wasp; or like another that, seeing an adder sleeping upon a bank, took it for an eel, and was bitten by it, which had nearly cost him his life. T.—But, sir, I thought Harry had mentioned a little boy that used to feed a snake without receiving any hurt from it. Mr B.—That might very well happen; there is scarcely any creature that will do hurt, unless it is attacked or wants food; and some of these reptiles are entirely harmless, others not; therefore the best way is not to meddle with any till you are perfectly acquainted with its nature. Had you observed this rule, you never would have attempted to catch the pig by the hinder leg, in order to tame it; and it is very lucky that you did not make the experiment upon a larger animal, otherwise you might have been as badly treated as the tailor was by the elephant. T.—Pray, sir, what is this curious story? But first tell me, if you please, what an elephant is?
“An elephant,” said Mr Barlow, “is the largest land animal that we are acquainted with. It is many times thicker than an ox, and grows to the height of eleven or twelve feet. Its strength, as may be easily imagined, is prodigious; but it is at the same time so very gentle, that it rarely does hurt to anything, even in woods where it resides. It does not eat flesh, but lives upon the fruits and branches of trees. But what is most singular about its make is, that, instead of a nose, it has a long hollow piece of flesh, which grows over its mouth to the length of three or four feet; this is called the trunk of the elephant; and he is capable of bending it in every direction. When he wants to break off the branch of a tree, he twists his trunk round it, and snaps it off directly; when he wants to drink, he lets it down into the water, sucks up several gallons at a time, and then, doubling the end of it back, discharges it all into his mouth.”
“But if he is so large and strong,” said Tommy, “I should suppose it must be impossible ever to tame him.” “So perhaps it would,” replied Mr Barlow, “did they not instruct those that have been already tamed to assist in catching others.” T.—How is that, sir? Mr B.—When they have discovered a forest where these animals resort, they make a large enclosure with strong pales and a deep ditch, leaving only one entrance to it, which has a strong gate left purposely open. They then let one or two of their tame elephants loose, who join the wild ones, and gradually entice them into the enclosure. As soon as one of these has entered, a man, who stands ready, shuts the gate, and takes him prisoner. The animal, finding himself thus entrapped, begins to grow furious, and attempts to escape; but immediately two tame ones, of the largest size and greatest strength, who have been placed there on purpose, come up to him, one on each side, and beat him with their trunks till he becomes more quiet. A man then comes behind, ties a very large cord to each of his hind-legs, and fastens the other end of it to two great trees. He is then left without food for some hours, and in that time generally becomes so docile as to suffer himself to be conducted to the stable that is prepared for him, where he lives the rest of his life like a horse, or any other sort of domestic animal. T.—And pray, sir, what did the elephant do to the tailor? “There was,” said Mr Barlow, “at Surat, a city where many of these tame elephants are kept, a tailor, who used to sit and work in his shed, close to the place to which these elephants were led every day to drink. This man contracted a kind of acquaintance with one of the largest of these beasts, and used to present him with fruits and other vegetables whenever the elephant passed by his door. The elephant was accustomed to put his long trunk in at the window, and to receive in that manner whatever his friend chose to give. But one day the tailor happened to be in a more than ordinary ill-humour, and not considering how dangerous it might prove to provoke an animal of that size and strength, when the elephant put his trunk in at the window as usual, instead of giving him anything to eat, he pricked him with his needle. The elephant instantly withdrew his trunk, and, without showing any marks of resentment, went on with the rest to drink; but, after he had quenched his thirst, he collected a large quantity of the dirtiest water he could find in his trunk—which I have already told you is capable of holding many gallons—and, when he passed by the tailor’s shop, in his return, he discharged it full in his face, with so true an aim, that he wetted him all over, and almost drowned him; thus justly punishing the man for his ill-nature and breach of friendship.”
“Indeed,” said Harry, “considering the strength of the animal, he must have had a great moderation and generosity not to have punished the man more severely; and therefore, I think it is a very great shame to men ever to be cruel to animals, when they are so affectionate and humane to them.”
“You are very right,” said Mr Barlow; “and I remember another story of an elephant, which, if true, is still more extraordinary. These animals, although in general they are as docile and obedient to the person that takes care of them as a dog, are sometimes seized with a species of impatience which makes them absolutely ungovernable. It is then dangerous to come near them, and very difficult to restrain them. I should have mentioned, that in the Eastern parts of the world, where elephants are found, the kings and princes keep them to ride upon as we do horses; a kind of tent or pavilion is fixed upon the back of the animal, in which one or more persons are placed; and the keeper that is used to manage him sits upon the neck of the elephant, and guides him by means of a pole with an iron hook at the end. Now, as these animals are of great value, the keeper is frequently severely punished if any accident happens to the animal by his carelessness. But one day, one of the largest elephants, being seized with a sudden fit of passion, had broken loose; and, as the keeper was not in the way, nobody was able to appease him, or dared to come near him. While, therefore, he was running about in this manner, he chanced to see the wife of his keeper (who had often fed him as well as her husband), with her young child in her arms, with which she was endeavouring to escape from his fury. The woman ran as fast as she was able; but, finding that it was impossible for her to escape, because these beasts, although so very large, are able to run very fast, she resolutely turned about, and throwing her child down before the elephant, thus accosted him, as if he had been capable of understanding her: “You ungrateful beast, is this the return you make for all the benefits we have bestowed! Have we fed you, and taken care of you, by day and night, during so many years, only that you may at last destroy us all? Crush, then, this poor innocent child and me, in return for the services that my husband has done you!” While she was making these passionate exclamations, the elephant approached the place where the little infant lay, but, instead of trampling upon him, he stopped short, and looked at him with earnestness, as if he had been sensible of shame and confusion; and, his fury from that instant abating, he suffered himself to be led without opposition to his stable.”
Tommy thanked Mr Barlow for these two stories, and promised for the future to use more discretion in his kindness to animals.
The next day Tommy and Harry went into the garden to sow the wheat which Harry had brought with him, upon a bed which Tommy had dug for that purpose.
