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did not âsk you for your bread and butter. I only serve you, as you served him^, Let this` teach you that dogs` can feel' as well as boys, and learn to behave more kindly towards dumb animals' in future."

LESSON XI.

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG.

"He

JAMES HOGG', the Ettrick Shepherd', had a dog named Sirrah', which was for many years his sole companion. was," quoth the shepherd, "beyond all comparison', the best dog I ever saw. He was of a surly, unsocial temper, disdaining all flattery`, and refused to be caressed; but his attention to his master's commands and interests' will never be equalled by any of the canine race. The first time that I saw him, a drover was leading him in a ropè. He was hungry and lean, and far from being a beautiful' cur', for he was all over black`, and had a grim facè, striped with dark brown. The man had bought him of a boy for thrèe shillings', somewhere on the border, and doubtless had fed him very ill on his journey. I thought I discovered a sort of sullen intelligence in his facé, notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn situation; so I gave the drover a guinea for him, and appropriated him to myself. He was scarcely then a year old`, and knew so little of herding that he had never turned sheep in his life; but as soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, he would try every way deliberately till he found what I wanted him to do, and when once I made him to understand, he never forgot nor mistook again." About seven hundred lambs', which were once under his care at weaning timé, broke up at midnight, and scampered off in three divisions across the hills, in spite of all that the shepherd and his assistant lad could do to keep them together. "Sirrah," cried the shepherd in great affliction', "my man', they 're a'awa."* The night was so dark that he did not see Sirrah`; but the faithful animal had heard his master's words, and, without more ado, he set off in quest of the recreant flock. Meanwhile, the shepherd and his companion spent the whole night in scouring the hills`; but of neither the lambs' nor Sirrah, could they obtain the slightest trace. "It was the most extraordinary circumstancé," says the shepherd'," that had ever occurred in the annals of the pastoral life. We had nothing for it, (day having dawned',) but to

* Scottish dialect for all away.

return to our master' and inform him that we had lost his whole flock of lambs, and knew not what was become of one of them. On our way homé, however, we discovered a body of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine,* called the Flesh Cleach, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them', looking around for some relief, but still standing to his charge. The sun was then up, and', when we first came in view of them', we concluded that it was one of the divisions of the lambs, which Sirrah had been unable to managé until he came to that commanding situation. But what was our astonishment' when we discovered that not one of the whole flock was wanting! How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark is beyond comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself' from midnight until the rising of the sun; and if all the shepherds in the country had been there to assist him', they could not have effected it with greater propriety."

LESSON XII.

PETER THE GREAT.

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ONE day, as the czar was returning from hunting', he happened to loiter behind the rest of the company' to enjoy the cool air, when, looking around, he observed a boy standing on the top bar of a stile looking earnestly about him, upon which he rode briskly up and accosted him with', "Well, my boy', what are you looking for?" "An't please your honor," said the boy', "I'm looking out for the king. "Oh," said the emperor, "if you will get up behind me, I'll show you him." The boy then mounted, and, as they were riding along, the czar said, "You will know which is the emperor by seeing the rest take off their hats to him." Soon after, the emperor came up to the party', whó, much surprised at seeing him so attended', immediately saluted him, when the czar', turning round his head', said, "Now do you see who's the king?" "Why"," replied the boy archly," it is one of us twô, but I'm sure I don't know which', for we've both got our hats on."

* Pronounced raveen. When spelt without a final e, pronounced rav'-en.

LESSON XIII.

FOR THE GOOD OF TRADE.

THE late well-known Sandy Wood', surgeon in Edinburgh, was walking through the streets of that city during the time of an illumination, when he observed a young rascal', not above twelve years of agé, breaking every window he could reach^ with as much industry as if he had been doing the most commendable action in the world. Enraged at this mischievous disposition', Sandy seized him by the collar, and asked him what he meant by thus destroying honest people's windows'. "Why, it's all for the good of trade'," replied the young urchin; "I am a glazier." "All for the good of trâde, is it'?" said Sandy', raising his cané, and breaking the boy's head`; "there, then`, that's` for the good of my trade; I` am a surgeon'."

LESSON XIV.

THE APE AND THE BEAVER.

A PERT apé one day by chancè made a visit to the habitations of the beavers', who were all hard at work in their several apartments, and addressing one of those industrious animals,' which was busily employed in building a curious house for himself and his family, he began to make his impertinent and silly observations on the most trivial things that occurred`, until the beaver', finding that he could not go on with his work' while interrupted by this insignificant intruder', thus sharply reproved him:"Pray leave me,” said hè, " to my labor. Go and pay your visits to such only as are idle like yourself`; at least, you should not take up the time of those to whom time is precious', and who make use of every moment to some good purposè, thus reducing them to a level with yourself`."

APPLICATION.

Bad habits are as infectious^ as the plague. The idle make those idle with whom they associatè. The vicious libertiné debauches or corrupts the innocent mind until it becomes as depraved as its teacher; the quarrelsomé create broils wherever they intrudè; gamesters' make gamesters`; and thieves' make thieves. There is a tendency in nature to cause every thing, where it is possiblé, to produce its likeness.

LESSON X V. 、

THE MASSACRE OF SCIO.*

Scio is a most lovely island' in the Grecian Archipelago. Its climate is delightful, and its soil fertilé, producing the most delicious fruits' and fragrant flowers. Its capital', named also Sció, is handsome and well built, and its vicinity ornamented with the villas and gardens of many wealthy merchants', who once resided here in great splendor and luxury. Alas`, how has the scene been changed! They who once enjoyed all the luxuries that wealth could purchase or this delightful climate furnish', who were happy in the bosom of their families', and surrounded with every thing that could make lifè desirablé, have either been cruelly slaughtered', or have become wretched slaves, or miserable outcasts', wandering without a homé or without the means of subsistence. A heart of sensibility must bleed at a recital of the horrors witnessed by this once happy island, horrors' from which it will take many years to recover', and which will remain on record as another lamentable proof of the depravity of man' and of the savage nature of civil war`.

So fearful were the inhabitants of Scio of losing the gratifi cations they enjoyed', and so effeminate had luxury rendered them, that liberty' had no charms for them, and the calls of their fellow-countrymen to join them in the glorious struggle for freedom' were disregarded. Indeed, so ably had they managed to avoid every appearance of disaffection to their masters', the Turks', that the Ottoman fleet never molested them', till', on one unfortunate occasion', a tumultuary rabble joined the forces of a Greek leader, who landed with a small party of troops', besieged the citadel', and put the Turkish garrison and inhabitants to the sword.

Scarcely was this tragedy completed', when the Ottoman fleet entered the harbor, and the Greek troops', unable to cope with so formidable an armament', fled and left the island to its fate. Although the principal inhabitants had taken no part in the outragé, they were aware of their danger, and instantly repaired on board the ship of the captain pachá,† making the most solemn protestations of their innocencé and of their fidelity to the Porte. They were received with great civility', and their fears quieted' by the admiral's expressing himself ready

* Skeeo, or See-o'.

+ Pronounced pashaw. A Turkish governor or commander.

+ Emperor of Turkey; often called the Ottoman Porte. The final e is silent.

to forget all that had passed, and ordering coffee and other refreshments.

They being thus lulled into a fatal security, the pacha landed his troops, consisting of about six thousand men', without opposition. Immediately the work of death began. No distinction was madè. The innocent were confounded with the guilty in one indiscriminate slaughter', and the Turks, when weary with their sanguinary work', would coolly sheath their bloody sabres, sit beneath the shades of the stately trees`, take their pipes and coffeè, converse with the utmost indifferencè or take a nap', and then rise refreshed' and renew their horrid employment. No attention was paid to the most earnest protestations of innocencé nor supplications for mercy. Neither the silver hairs of agé nor the blooming cheeks of beauty' wrought compassion in the hearts of the barbarous foe. Shrieks of agony' and shouts of exultation' were mingled in horrid dissonance. On every side, were seen trembling fugitives pursued by the ferocious murderers', who stabbed children in the arms of their mothers', cut down with their remorseless weapons the aged sirè and the hapless youth', vainly endeavoring to ward off the blow each from the other', while the exulting monsters triumphantly exhibited the heads of their victims dripping with gore.

Nor, when the shades of night and the weariness of the assassins' gave a short respite to the wretched Sciots', was the scene less appalling. Bloody corpses were scattered over the velvet lawns, among the orange groves, and in the most magnificent apartments' as well as in the lowly cottages`; and the plaintive lament of heart-broken relatives over the bodies of the slain', and the shuddering cry of despair uttered by those who knew that inevitable death awaited them at the return of day', were as distressing and heart-sickening as the tumult and agonizing shrieks that accompanied the scene of blood and carnage. Daily was the butchering renewed' whilst any victims remained.

Some had the good fortune to escape beyond the barrier of the rocky mountains or into the boats and vessels that were off their coast. But their fate was little to be envied-without a home', without friends', almost without food', many perished from fatigue and faminé, while the survivors', bereft of every thing they held most dear', suffered the miseries of present privation' and the agonies arising from the recollections of what they once were. Twenty thousand are computed to have perished in this massacre.

When will the happy time arrive^, that men^, instead of glorying in the destruction of their fellow-creatures', shall

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