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against the Spaniards. Soon after the conquest of Carthagena, the capital of the empire, his integrity and virtue were put to the following exemplary, and ever memorable trial, related by historians, ancient and modern, with universal applause. Being retired into his camp, some of his officers brought him a young virgin of such exquisite beauty, that she drew upon her the eyes and admiration of every body. The young conqueror started from his seat with confusion and surprise; and seemed to be robbed of that presence of mind and self-possession, so ne. cessary in a general, and for which Scipio was very remarkable. In a few moments, having recovered himself, he inquired of the beautiful captive, in the most civil and pohte manner, concern. ing her country, birth, and connexions ; and finding that she was betrothed to a Celtiberian Prince, named Allucius, he or. dered both him and the captive's parents to be sent for
2. When the Spanish Prince appeared in his presence, Sch pio took him aside ; and, to remove the anxiety he might feel, on account of the young lady, addressed him in these words : • You and I are young, which admits of my speaking to you with freedom. They who brought me your future spouse, assured me, at the same time, that you loved her with extreme tender. ness; and her beauty and merit left me no room to doubt it. Upon which I reflected, that if I were in your situation, I should hope to meet with favour: and, therefore, think myself happy in the present conjuncture, to do you a service. Though the fortune of war has made me your master, I desire to be your friend. Here is your wife : take her, and may you be happy! You may rest assured, that she has been amongst us, as sbe would have been in the house of her father and mother. Far be it from Scipio to purchase any pleasure at the expense of virtue, honour, and the bappiness of an honest man! No:1 have kept her for you, in order to make you a present, worthy of you, and of me. The only gratitude I require of you, for this inestimable gift, is, that you will be a friend to the Roman people.'
3. Allucius' heart was too full to make him any answer; but, throwing himself at the general's feet, he wept aloud : the cap. tive lady fell down in the same posture, and remained so til the aged father, overwhelmed with transports of joy, burst into the following words : O excellent Scipio! heaven has given thee more than human virtue. O glorious leader! O wondrous youth! what pleasure could equal that which must now fill thy heart,, on hearing the prayers of this grateful virgin, for thy health and prosperity!'
4. Such was Scipio ; a soldier, a youth, a heathen! nor was bis virtue unrewarded. Allucius, charmed with such magna. nimity, liberality, and politeness, returned to his own country, and published, on all occasions, the praises of his generous victor: crying out, “that there was come into Spain a young hero who conquered all things, less by the force of his arms, than by the charms of his virtue, and the greatness of bis beneficence.
The grateful Scholars, 1. Doty to parents, and gratitude to preceptors, are virtues of the most amiable kind. Yet we daily see children who are indifferent to their parent's peace, and neglectful of those who have laboured to instruct them. But can the most ignorant suppose, that the small pittance which a master receives for his faithful attention to form the youthful mind, is a compensation for his care ? And does not this second parent, if he has done his duty, deserve something from the soil which he has cultivated ?
2. I will suppose that want of reflection, more than want of gratitude, often occasions the neglect towards tutors, of which no benevolent heart could think of being guilty without a blush. Selfish as the world is, there are principles of goodness in the human soul, that only want to be awakened to display their amiable sensibilities. The following simple narration is not the fiction of imagination. May it teach others to know what they ought to imitate and avoid !
3. During a long and active life, Saville had trained up numbers in the precepts of virtue and good learning. He had exhausted without enriching himself; and, on the verge of the grave, he scarcely knew where to find a refuge from the storm.
4. Necessity (and how bitter the necessity must be, every cultivated taste may judge) drove him to apply for relief to those who had once been under his protection, had eaten at his table, and slept under his roof, during that happy period when hope is young, and the days are unclouded with reflection. Some had forgotten his person-others had forgotten themselves. Notwithstanding the philanthropy of Saville's heart, he began to believe the old adage, that services done to the young and the old are equally useless, as the one forget them, and the other live not long enough to repay them.'
5. His delicacy would not suffer him to make many trials of such ingratitude. He was ready to sink under his misfortunes. Chance, however, directed him to two brothers, who, in con. sequence of his care in their early youth, and their own dili
gent exertions in maturer years, had obtained a competence in foreign lands, and were returned to spend it with honour in their own. These, instead of turning their backs on his distress, invited him in the most cordial manner to spend the reDainder of his days with them.
6. It would have shown pride rather than humility, in his situation, not to have accepted such a disinterested offer. His days, indeed, were few, after he found this asylum ; but they were closed in comfort, and his former pupils, having lost their own, bewailed this second parent with tears of grateful remembrance, and inscribed their sorrow on his tomb.
The Merchant and his Dog. 1. A FRENCH merchant having some money due from a correspondent, set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, on purpose to receive it. Having settled the business to his satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before him, and returned towards home. His faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's feelings, frisked about the horse, barked and jumped, and seemed to participate in his joy.
2. The merchant, after riding some miles, had occasion to ahght, and taking the bag of money in his hands, laid it down by his side under a hedge, and, on remounting, forgot it. The dog perceived his lapse of recollection, and, wishing to rectify it, ran to fetch the bag, but it was too heavy for him to drag along. He then hastened to his master, and by crying, barking, and howling, seemed to remind him of his mistake. The merchant understood not his language ; but the assiduous creature persevered in his efforts, and, after trying to stop the borse in vain, at last begm to bite his heels.
3. The merchant, absorbed in some reverie, wholly overlooked the real object of his affectionate attendant's importuni: ty, but waked to the alarming apprehension that he was gone mad. Full of this suspicion, in crossing a brook, he turned back to see if the animal would drink. But it was too intent on its master's service to think of itself; it continued to bark and bite with greater violence than before.
4. Mercy!' cried the astonished merchant, it must be so; my poor dog is certainly mad. What must I do? I must kill bim, lest some greater misfortune befal me : but with what regret! Oh could I find any one to perform this cruel office for me! But there is no time to lose ; I myself may become ide victim if I spare him.'
5. With these words he drew, a pistol from his pocket, and with a trembling hand, took aim at his faithful servant. He turned away in agony as he fired, but his aim was too sure. The poor animal falls wounded; and, weltering in his blood, still endeavours to crawl towards his master, as if to tax him with ingratitude. The merchant could not bear the sight, he spurred on his horse, with a heart full of sorrow, and lamented he had taken a journey which had cost him so dear. Still, however, the money never entered his mind; he only thought of his poor dog, and tried to console himself with the reflection, that he had prevented a greater evil, by despatching a mad ani. mal, than he had suffered a calamity by his loss.
6. This opiate to his wounded spirit was ineffectual : I am most unfortunate,' said he, to himself: 'I had almost rather have lost my money than my dog.' Saying this, he stretched out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was missing-no bag was to be found. In an instant, he saw his rashness and folly. · Wretch that I am! I alone am to blame. I could not comprehend the admonition which my best and most faithful friend gave me, and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He only wished to inform me of my mistake, and he has paid for his fidelity with his life.'
7. He instantly turned his horse, and went off, at full speed, to the place where he had stopped. He saw, with half averted eyes, the scene where the tragedy was acted; he perceived the traces of blood, as he proceeded he was oppressed and distracted ; but in vain did he look for his dog : he was not to be seen on the road. At last, he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. The poor dog, unable to follow his dear, but cruel master, had determined to consecrate his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all bloody as he was, to the forgotten bag, and, in the agonies of death, he lay watching beside it. When he saw his master, he still testified his joy, by the wagging of his tail—he could do no more he tried to rise, but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast : even the caresses of his master could not prolong his fate for a few moments. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was now fondling him, in the agonies of regret, as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast a look of kindness on his master, and closed his eyes forever!
Indian Magnanimity. 1. An Indian who had not met with his usual success in . bunting, wandered down to a plantation among the back set
tlements in Virginia, and seeing a planter at his door, asked for a morsel of bread for he was very hungry. The planter bid him begone, for he would give him none. Will you give me then a cup of your beer? said the Indian. No, you shall have none here, replied the planter. But I am very faint, said the savage; will you give me only a draught of cold water ? Get you gone, you Indian dog, you shall have nothing here, said the planter.
2. It happened some months after, that the planter went on a shooting party into the woods, where, intent upon his game, he missed his company, and lost his way; and night coming on, he wandered through the forest, till he espied an Indian wigwam. He approached the savage's habitation, and asked him to show him the way to a plantation on that side of the country. It is too late for you to go there this evening, sir, said the Indian ; but if you will accept of my homely fare, you are welcome.
3. He then offered him some venison, and such other refreshments as his store afforded ; and having laid some bear skins for his bed, he desired that he would repose himself for the night, and he would awake him early in the morning, and conduct him on his way.
4. Accordingly, in the morning they set off, and the Indian led him out of the forest, and put him in the road he was to go : but just as they were taking leake, he stepped before the planter, then turning round, and staring full in his face, bid him say whether he recollected his features. The planter was now struck with shame and horrour, when he beheld, in his kind protector, the Indian whom he had so harshly treated. He confessed that he knew him, and was full of excuses for his brutal behaviour; to which the Indian only replied, “When you see poor Indians fainting for a cup of cold water, don't say again, Get you gone you Indian dog ! The Indian then wished him well on his journey, and left him. It is not difficult to say which of these two had the best claim to the name of Christian.
Virtue in Humble Life. 1. PERRIN, the amiable subject of this narrative, lost both his parents. before he could articulate their names, and was obli. ged to a charity school for his education. At the age of fifteen he was hired by a farmer, to be a shepherd, in a neighbourhood where Lucetta kept her father's sheep. They often met, and were fond of being together. After an acquaintance of five years, in which they had many opportunities of becoming tho