Lost in the Snow

Chapter 5

Some few days after this conversation, when the snow had nearly disappeared, though the frost and cold continued, the two little boys went out to take a walk. Insensibly they wandered so far that they scarcely knew their way, and therefore resolved to return as speedily as possible; but unfortunately, in passing through a wood, they entirely missed the track, and lost themselves.
To add to their distress, the wind began to blow most bitterly from the north, and a violent shower of snow coming on, obliged them to seek the thickest shelter they could find. They happened fortunately to be near an aged oak, the inside of which gradually decaying, was worn away by time, and afforded an ample opening to shelter them from the storm. Into this the two little boys crept safe, and endeavoured to keep each other warm, while a violent shower of snow and sleet fell all around, and gradually covered the earth. Tommy, who had been little used to hardships, bore it for some time with fortitude, and without uttering a complaint.
At length hunger and fear took entire possession of his soul, and turning to Harry, with watery eyes and a mournful voice, he asked him what they should do? “Do?” said Harry, “we must wait here, I think, till the weather clears up a little, and then we will endeavour to find the way home.”
Tommy.—But what if the weather should not clear up at all?
Harry.—In that case we must either endeavour to find our way through the snow, or stay here, where we are so conveniently sheltered.
Tommy.—But oh! what a dreadful thing it is to be here all alone in this dreary wood! And then I am so hungry and so cold; oh that we had but a little fire to warm us!
Harry.—I have heard that shipwrecked persons, when they have been cast away upon a desert coast, have made a fire to warm themselves by rubbing two pieces of wood together till they caught fire; or here is a better thing; I have a large knife in my pocket, and if I could but find a piece of flint, I could easily strike fire with the back of it.

Harry then searched about, and after some time found a couple of flints, though not without much difficulty, as the ground was nearly hidden with snow. He then took the flints, and striking one upon the other with all his force, he shivered them into several pieces; out of those he chose the thinnest and sharpest, and telling Tommy, with a smile, that he believed that would do, he struck it several times against the back of his knife, and thus produced several sparks of fire. “This,” said Harry, “will be sufficient to light a fire, if we can but find something of a sufficiently combustible nature to kindle from these sparks.” He then collected the driest leaves he could find, with little decayed pieces of wood, and piling them into a heap, endeavoured to kindle a blaze by the sparks which he continually struck from his knife and the flint. But it was in vain; the leaves were not of a sufficiently combustible nature, and while he wearied himself in vain, they were not at all the more advanced. Tommy, who beheld the ill success of his friend, began to be more and more terrified, and in despair asked Harry again what they should do. Harry answered, that as they had failed in their attempt to warm themselves, the best thing they could do was to endeavour to find their way home, more especially as the snow had now ceased, and the sky was become much clearer. This Tommy consented to, and with infinite difficulty they began their march; for, as the snow had completely covered every tract, and the daylight began to fail, they wandered at random through a vast and pathless wood. At every step which Tommy took he sank almost to his knees in snow. The wind was bleak and cold, and it was with much difficulty that Harry could prevail upon him to continue his journey. At length, however, as they thus pursued their way with infinite toil, they came to some lighted embers, which either some labourers or some wandering passenger had lately quitted, and which were yet unextinguished. “See,” said Harry with joy, “see what a lucky chance is this! here is a fire ready lighted for us, which needs only the assistance of a little wood to make it burn.” Harry again collected all the dry pieces he could find, and piled them upon the embers, which in a few minutes began to blaze, and diffused a cheerful warmth. Tommy then began to warm and chafe his almost frozen limbs over the fire with infinite delight. At length he could not help observing to Harry, that he never could have believed that a few dried sticks could have been of so much consequence to him. “Ah!” answered Harry, “Master Tommy, you have been brought up in such a manner, that you never knew what it was to want anything; but that is not the case with thousands and millions of people. I have seen hundreds of poor children that have neither bread to eat, fire to warm, nor clothes to cover them. Only think, then, what a disagreeable situation they must be in; yet they are so accustomed to hardship that they do not cry in a twelvemonth as much as you have done within this quarter of an hour.”
“Why,” answered Tommy, a little disconcerted at the observation of his crying, “it cannot be expected that gentlemen should be able to bear all these inconveniences as well as the poor.” “Why not,” answered Harry, “is not a gentleman as much a man as the poor can be? and if he is a man, should he not accustom himself to support everything that his fellow-creatures do?”
Tommy.—That is very true; but he will have all the conveniences of life provided for him; victuals to eat, a good warm bed, and a fire to warm him.
Harry.—But he is not sure of having all these things as long as he lives. Besides, I have often observed the gentlemen and ladies in our neighbourhood riding about in coaches, and covered from head to foot, yet shaking with the least breath of air, as if they all had agues, while the children of the poor run about barefooted upon the ice, and divert themselves with making snow-balls.
Tommy.—That is indeed true; for I have seen my mother’s visitors sitting over the largest fire that could be made, and complaining of cold, while the labourers out of doors were stripped to their shirts to work, and never minded it in the least.
Harry.—Then I should think that exercise, by which a person can warm himself when he pleases, is an infinitely better thing than all these conveniences you speak of; because, after all, they will not hinder a person from being cold, but exercise will warm him in an instant.
Tommy.—But then it is not proper for gentlemen to do the same kind of work with the common people.
Harry.—But is it not proper for a gentleman to have his body stout and hardy?
Tommy.—To be sure it is.
Harry.—Why, then, he must sometimes labour and use his limbs, or else he will never be able to do it.
Tommy.—What! cannot a person be strong without working?
Harry.—You can judge for yourself. You very often have fine young gentlemen at your father’s house, and are any of them as strong as the sons of the farmers in the neighbourhood, who are always used to handle a hoe, a spade, a fork, and other tools?
Tommy.—Indeed, I believe that is true, for I think I am become stronger myself since I have learned to divert myself in Mr Barlow’s garden.
As they were conversing in this manner, a little boy came singing along, with a bundle of sticks at his back; and as soon as Harry saw him, he recollected him, and cried out, “As I am alive, here as I am is Jack Smithers, the little ragged boy that you gave the clothes to in the summer! He lives, I dare say, in the neighbourhood, and either he or his father will now show us the way home.”
“As I am alive, here is Jack Smithers, the little ragged boy that you gave the clothes to in the summer!”
Harry then spoke to the boy, and asked him if he could show them the way out of the wood. “Yes, surely I can,” answered the boy; “but I never should have thought of seeing Master Merton out so late in such a tempestuous night as this; but, if you will come with me to my father’s cottage, you may warm yourself at our fire, and father will run to Mr Barlow to let him know you are safe.”
Tommy accepted the offer with joy, and the little boy led them out of the wood, and in a few minutes they came to a small cottage which stood by the side of the road, which, when they entered, they saw a middle-aged woman busy in spinning; the eldest girl was cooking some broth over the fire; the father was sitting in the chimney-corner, and reading a book, while three or four ragged children were tumbling upon the floor, and creeping between their father’s legs.
“Daddy,” said the little boy, as he came in, “here is Master Merton, who was so good to us all in the summer; he has lost his way in the wood, and is almost perished in the snow.”
The man upon this arose, and with much civility desired the two little boys to seat themselves by the fire, while the good woman ran to fetch her largest faggot, which she threw upon the fire, and created a cheerful blaze in an instant. “There, my dear little master,” said she, “you may at least refresh yourself by our fire, and I wish I had anything to offer you that you could eat; but I am afraid you would never be able to bear such coarse brown bread as we poor folks are obliged to eat.” “Indeed,” said Tommy, “my good mother, I have fasted so long, and I am so hungry, that I think I could eat anything.” “Well, then,” answered the woman, “here is a little bit of gammon of bacon which I will broil for you upon the embers, and if you can make a supper you are heartily welcome.”
While the good woman was thus preparing supper the man had closed his book, and placed it with great respect upon a shelf, which gave Tommy the curiosity to ask him what he was reading about. “Master,” answered the man, “I was reading the Book which teaches me my duty towards man, and my obligations to God; I was reading the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and teaching it to my children.”
Tommy.—Indeed, I have heard of that good Book; Mr Barlow has often read part of it to me, and promised I should read it myself. That is the Book they read at church; I have often heard Mr Barlow read it to the people; and he always reads it so well and so affectingly that everybody listens, and you may hear even a pin drop upon the pavement.
The Man.—Yes, master, Mr Barlow is a worthy servant and follower of Jesus Christ himself; he is the friend of all the poor in the neighbourhood; he gives us food and medicines when we are ill, and he employs us when we can find no work; but what we are even more obliged to him for than the giving us food and raiment, and life itself, he instructs us in our duty, makes us ashamed of our faults, and teaches us how we may be happy, not only here, but in another world. I was once an idle, abandoned man myself, given up to swearing and drinking, neglecting my family, and taking no thought for my poor wife and children; but since Mr Barlow has taught me better things, and made me acquainted with this blessed book, my life and manners, I hope, are much amended, and I do my duty better to my poor family.
“That indeed you do, Robin,” answered the woman; “there is not now a better and kinder husband in the world; you have not wasted an idle penny or a moment’s time these two years; and, without that unfortunate fever, which prevented you from working last harvest, we should have the greatest reason to be contented.”
“Have we not the greatest reason now,” answered the man, “to be not only contented, but thankful for all the blessings we enjoy? It is true that I, and several of the children, were ill this year for many weeks; but did we not all escape, through the blessing of God, and the care of good Mr Barlow and this worthy Master Sandford, who brought us victuals so many days, with his own hands, when we otherwise should perhaps have starved? Have I not had very good employment ever since; and do I not now earn six shillings a-week, which is a very comfortable thing, when many poor wretches as good as I are starving, because they cannot find employment?”
“Six shillings a-week! six shillings a-week!” answered Tommy in amazement; “and is that all you and your wife and children have to live on for a whole week!”
The Man.—Not all, master; my wife sometimes earns a shilling or eighteenpence a-week by spinning, and our eldest daughter begins to do something that way, but not much.
Tommy.—That makes seven shillings and sixpence a-week. Why, I have known my mother give more than that to go to a place where outlandish people sing. I have seen her and other ladies give a man a guinea for dressing their hair; and I know a little miss, whose father gives half-a-guinea a time to a little Frenchman, who teaches her to jump and caper about the room.
“Master,” replied the man, smiling, “these are great gentlefolks that you are talking about; they are very rich, and have a right to do what they please with their own; it is the duty of us poor folks to labour hard, take what we can get, and thank the great and wise God that our condition is no worse.”
Tommy.—What! and is it possible that you can thank God for living in such a house as this, and earning seven shillings and sixpence a-week?
The Man.—To be sure I can, master. Is it not an act of His goodness that we have clothes and a warm house to shelter us, and wholesome food to eat? It was but yesterday that two poor men came by, who had been cast away in a storm, and lost their ship and all they had. One of the poor men had scarcely any clothes to cover him, and was shaking all over with a violent ague; and the other had his toes almost mortified by walking bare-footed in the snow. Am I not a great deal better off than these poor men, and perhaps than a thousand others, who are at this time tossed about upon the waves, or cast away, or wandering about the world, without a shed to cover them from the weather; or imprisoned for debt? Might I not have gone on in committing bad actions, like many other unhappy men, till I had been guilty of some notorious crime, which might have brought me to a shameful end? And ought not I to be grateful for all these blessings which I possess without deserving them?
Tommy, who had hitherto enjoyed all the good things of this life, without reflecting from whom he had received them, was very much struck with the piety of this honest and contented man; but as he was going to answer, the good woman, who had laid a clean, though coarse, cloth upon the table, and taken up her savoury supper in an earthen plate, invited them to sit down; an invitation which both the boys obeyed with the greatest pleasure, as they had eaten nothing since the morning. In the meantime the honest man of the house had taken his hat and walked to Mr Barlow’s, to inform him that his two pupils were safe in the neighbourhood.
Mr Barlow had long suffered the greatest uneasiness at their absence, and not contented with sending after them on every side, was at that very time busy in the pursuit, so that the man met him about half-way from his own house. As soon as Mr Barlow heard the good news, he determined to return with the man, and reached his house just as Tommy Merton had finished one of the heartiest meals he had ever made.
The little boys rose up to meet Mr Barlow, and thanked him for his kindness, and the pains he had taken to look after them, expressing their concern for the accident which had happened, and the uneasiness which, without designing it, they had occasioned; but he, with the greatest good-nature, advised them to be more cautious for the future, and not to extend their walks so far; then, thanking the worthy people of the house, he offered to conduct them, and they all three set out together in a very cold, but fine and star-light evening.
As they went home Mr Barlow renewed his caution, and told them the dangers they had incurred. “Many people,” said he, “in your situation, have been surprised by an unexpected storm, and, losing their way, have perished with cold. Sometimes, both men and beasts, not being able to discern their accustomed track, have fallen into deep pits filled up and covered with the snow, where they have been found buried several feet deep, and frozen to death.” “And is it impossible,” said Tommy, “in such a case to escape?” “In general it is,” said Mr Barlow; “but there have been some extraordinary instances of persons who have lived several days in that condition, and yet have been taken out alive; to-morrow you shall read a remarkable story to that purpose.”
As they were walking on, Tommy looked up at the sky, where all the stars glimmered with unusual brightness, and said, “What an innumerable number of stars is here! I think I never observed so many before in all my life!” “Innumerable as they appear to you,” said Mr Barlow, “there are persons that have not only counted all you now see, but thousands more, which are at present invisible to your eye.” “How can that be?” inquired Tommy, “for there is neither beginning nor end; they are scattered so confusedly about the sky, that I should think it as impossible to number them, as the flakes of snow that fell to-day while we were in the wood.”

At this Mr Barlow smiled, and said, that he believed Harry could give him a different account, although perhaps he could not number them all. “Harry,” said he, “cannot you show your companion some of the constellations?” “Yes,” answered Harry, “I believe I remember some that you have been so good as to teach me.” “But pray, sir,” said Tommy, “what is a constellation?”
“Those,” answered Mr Barlow, “who first began to observe the heavens as you do now, have observed certain stars, remarkable either for their brightness or position. To these they have given a particular name that they might the more easily know them again, and discourse of them to others; and these particular clusters of stars, thus joined together and named, they call constellations. But come, Harry, you are a little farmer, and can certainly point out to us Charles’ Wain.”
Harry then looked up to the sky, and pointed out seven very bright stars towards the north. “You are right,” said Mr Barlow; “four of these stars have put the common people in mind of the four wheels of a waggon, and the three others of the horses, therefore they have called them by this name. Now, Tommy, look well at these, and see if you can find any seven stars in the whole sky that resemble them in their position.”
Tommy.—Indeed, sir, I do not think I can.
Mr Barlow.—Do you not think, then, that you can find them again?
Tommy.—I will try, sir. Now, I will take my eye off, and look another way. I protest I cannot find them again. Oh! I believe, there they are. Pray, sir (pointing with his finger), is not that Charles’ Wain?
Mr Barlow.—You are right; and, by remembering these stars, you may very easily observe those which are next to them, and learn their names too, till you are acquainted with the whole face of the heavens.
Tommy.—That is indeed very clever and very surprising. I will show my mother Charles’ Wain the first time I go home; I daresay she has never observed it.
Mr Barlow.—But look on the two stars which compose the hinder wheel of the waggon, and raise your eye up towards the top of the sky; do you not see a very bright star, that seems to be almost, but not quite, in a line with the two others?
Tommy.—Yes, sir; I see it plainly.
Mr Barlow.—That is called the Pole-star; it never moves from its place, and by looking full at it, you may always find the north.
Tommy.—Then if I turn my face towards that star, I always look to the north.
Mr Barlow.—You are right.
Tommy.—Then I shall turn my back to the south.
Mr Barlow.—You are right again; and now cannot you find the east and the west?
Tommy.—Is it not the east where the sun rises?
Mr Barlow.—Yes; but there is no sun to direct you now.
Tommy.—Then, sir, I cannot find it out.
Mr Barlow.—Do not you know, Harry?
Harry.—I believe, sir, that if you turn your face to the north, the east will be on the right hand, and the west on the left.
Mr Barlow.—Perfectly right.
Tommy.—That is very clever indeed; so then, by knowing the Pole-star, I can always find north, east, west, and south. But you said that the Pole-star never moves; do the other stars, then, move out of their places?
Mr Barlow.—That is a question you may learn to answer yourself, by observing the present appearance of the heavens, and then examining whether the stars change their places at any future time.
Tommy.—But, sir, I have thought that it would be a good contrivance, in order to remember their situation, if I were to draw them upon a bit of paper.
Mr Barlow.—But how would you do that?
Tommy.—I would make a mark upon the paper for every star in Charles’ Wain; and I would place the marks just as I see the stars placed in the sky; and I would entreat you to write the names for me; and this I would do till I was acquainted with all the stars in the heavens.
Mr Barlow.—That would be an excellent way, but you see a paper is flat; is that the form of the sky?
Tommy.—No; the sky seems to rise from the earth on every side, like the dome of a great church.
Mr Barlow.—Then if you were to have some round body, I should think it would correspond to the different parts of the sky, and you might place your stars with more exactness.

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