seeing his
little pupils mutually giving and receiving every unaffected mark of the
warmest affection.

"Harry," said Mr Barlow, "I bring you a little friend who is sincerely
penitent for his offences, and comes to own the faults he has
committed." "That I am indeed," said Tommy, a little recovered, and able
to speak; "but I have behaved so ill, and been such an ungrateful
fellow, that I am afraid Harry will never be able to forgive me."
"Indeed, indeed," said Harry, "there you do me the greatest injustice,
for I have already forgotten everything but your former kindness and
affection." "And I," answered Tommy, "will never forget how ill, how
ungratefully I have used you, nor the goodness with which you now
receive me." Tommy then recollected his lamb, and presented it to his
friend, while Mr Barlow told him the story of its rescue, and the
heroism exerted in its defence. Harry seemed to receive equal pleasure
from the restoration of his favourite, and the affection Tommy had shown
in its preservation; and, taking him by the hand, he led him into a
small but neat and convenient house, where he was most cordially
welcomed by Harry's family.

In a corner of the chimney sat the honest Black, who had performed so
signal a service at the bull-baiting. "Alas!" said Tommy, "there is
another instance of my negligence and ingratitude; I now see that one
fault brings on another without end." Then advancing to the Black, he
took him kindly by the hand, and thanked him for the preservation of his
life. "Little master," replied he, "you are extremely welcome to all I
have done; I would at any time risk my own safety to preserve one of my
fellow-creatures; and if I have been of any use, I have been amply
repaid by the kindness of this little boy, your friend, and all his
worthy family." "That is not enough," said Tommy, "and you shall soon
find what it is to oblige a person like----(here a stroke of presumption
was just coming out of Tommy's mouth, but, recollecting himself, he
added) a person like my father." And now he addressed himself to Harry's
mother, a venerable, decent woman of middle age, and his two sisters,
plain, modest, healthy-looking girls, a little older than their brother.
All these he treated with so much cordiality and attention that all the
company were delighted with him; so easy is it for those who possess
rank and fortune to gain the goodwill of their fellow-creatures, and so
inexcusable is that surly pride