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Arrival of Mr Barlow Story of Polemo Tommy's repentance Story of Sophron and Tigranes Tommy as an Arabian Horseman His Mishap Tommy's intrepidity The Poor Highlander's story Tommy's Sorrow for his conduct to Harry Conclusion of the Story of Sophron and Tigranes Tommy's resolution to study nothing but "reason and philosophy" Visits Harry and begs his forgiveness The Grateful Black's Story Tommy takes up his abode at Farmer Sandford's The Grateful Black's account of himself Mr Merton's visit to the Farm The unexpected present Conclusion.
"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.
They rushed forward like angry lions to the chase, but all resistance was at an end; and Sophron, who now perceived that the enemy was irretrievably broken, checked the ardour of his men, and entreated them to spare the vanquished.
"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.
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.
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.
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 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.
We have no common name for a mime of Sophron or Xenarchus and a Socratic Conversation; and we should still be without one even if the imitation in the two instances were in trimeters or elegiacs or some other kind of verse though it is the way with people to tack on 'poet' to the name of a metre, and talk of elegiac-poets and epic-poets, thinking that they call them poets not by reason of the imitative nature of their work, but indiscriminately by reason of the metre they write in.
"In proportion to the culture of men they become his scholars." "How many great men Nature is incessantly sending up out of night to be his men! His contemporaries tax him with plagiarism. But the inventor only knows how to borrow. When we are praising Plato, it seems we are praising quotations from Solon and Sophron and Philolaus. Be it so.
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