his information, for her prejudices had
operated so powerfully upon her mind, that she had implicitly believed
the guilt of Harry upon the imperfect evidence of the maid. "Who was it,
then," said Mr Merton, "could be so imprudent?" "Indeed, papa," answered
Tommy, "we were all to blame, all but Harry, who advised and begged us
not to go, and particularly me, because he said it would give you so
much uneasiness when you knew it, and that it was so dangerous a
diversion."

Mrs Merton looked confused at her mistake, but Mrs Compton observed,
that she supposed "Harry was afraid of the danger, and therefore, had
wisely kept out of the way." "Oh, no, indeed, madam," answered one of
the little boys, "Harry is no coward, though we thought him so at first,
when he let Master Tommy strike him, but he fought Master Mash in the
bravest manner I ever saw; and though Master Mash fought very well, yet
Harry had the advantage; and I saw him follow us at a little distance,
and keep his eye upon Master Merton all the time, till the bull broke
loose, and then I was so frightened that I do not know what became of
him." "So this is the little boy," said Mr Merton, "whom you were for
driving from the society of your children. But let us hear more of this
story, for as yet I know neither the particulars of his danger nor his
escape." Upon this one of the servants, who, from some little distance,
had seen the whole affair, was called in and examined. He gave them an
exact account of all of Tommy's misfortune; of Harry's bravery; of the
unexpected succour of the poor Black; and filled the whole room with
admiration, that such an action, so noble, so intrepid, so fortunate,
should have been achieved by such a child.

Mrs Merton was now silent with shame at reflecting upon her own unjust
prejudices, and the ease with which she had become the enemy of a boy
who had saved the life of her darling son, and who appeared as much
superior in character to all the young gentlemen at her house as they
exceeded him in rank and fortune. The young ladies now forgot their
former objections to his person and manners, and--such is the effect of
genuine virtue--all the company conspired to extol the conduct of Harry
to the skies.

But Mr Merton, who had appeared more delighted than all the rest with
the relations of Harry's intrepidity, now cast his eyes round the room
and seemed to be looking for his little friend; but when he could not
find him, he said, with