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heartily join in promoting each other's felicity'; when there shall be no national antipathies', no religious differences', but all shall unite in the worship of one God and in kind offices to one another.

LESSON XVI.

DOGS AND A LION.

JAMES Stow, in his “ Annals',” has an account of a battle between three mastiffs and a lion, in the presence of James the Firsť and his son' prince Henry. “One of the dogs, being put into the den, was soon disabled by the lion', which took him by the head and neck and dragged him about. Another dog was then let loosé, and was served in the same manner'; but the third being put in', immediately seized the lion by the lip and held him for a considerable tiine', till, being severely torn by his claws', he was obliged to quit his hold. The lion', being greatly exhausted by the conflict, refused to renew the engagement“

, but, taking a sudden leap over the dogs', fled into the interior part of his den. Two of the dogs soon died of their wounds. The third survived', and was taken great care of by the princé, who said, "He that had fought with the king of beasts' should never after fight with an inferior creature.'”

LESSON X VII.

SYMPTOMS OF IMPOSTURE.

AMONG the marvellous stories related of Mahomet and his followers', one is that he was conveyed on a mysterious animal from Mecca to Jerusalem', and thence ascended the seven heavens', conversed with patriarchs and angels', and approached within two bow shots of the throne of the Almighty ; after which he descended to Jerusalem' and returned to Mecca, āll in the tenth part of a night'. Another is', that the moon', at Mahomet's command', left the sky', performed seven revolutions round the temple of Mecca, saluted him in the Arabic languagé, entered at the collar of his shirt, and issued forth through his sleevè. A third is“, that he saw angels in heaven' whose heads were so large that it would take a bird a thousand years' to fly from one ear to the other !!!

LESSON XVIII.

THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER OF ARGENTON. * TOWARDS the close of the last century', about the year 1789, there occurred in France one of the most singular political convulsions of which history has any record. The lower orders of the nation', headed by some individuals of influencé, rose in arms against their sovereign', and after a long series of atrocities', succeeded in dethroning and beheading king Louis the Sixteenth', and in completely overturning the power of the nobles' and destroying the institutions of the state.

Of these scenes of horror, one of the most active agents was a man named Robespierrè,t who, having raised himself to a situation of power amongst the disaffected', ruled his country with despotic tyranny. During his temporary elevation', either the secret denunciation of an envious rivaľ, or the false charges preferred by an open enemy', were sufficient to condemn innocence and virtue to a violent death. Any individual who was known', during the reign of terror', (as that period of the French revolution has been termed',) to afford the slightest commiseration or assistance to the proscribed victims of tyranny', was almost certain to lose his lifè as the penalty of his injudicious compassion'; and owing to this circumstancé, fear seemed to suppress every generous feeling of the heart, and to stifle every sentiment of humanity', in the bosoms of the greater part of the unhappy inhabitants of France.

There lived, about this time, in one of the northern counties of the kingdom',F a miller in easy circumstances', whose name was Maturin',ị and whó, so far from participating in the alarm and dread which seemed to freeze the charity of his countrymen,' sought every opportunity of conferring acts of kindness on the unfortunate people who were flying from their homes' to avoid the horrors of prison or of death.

During this period', no suspicion had ever attached to him', and, in the opinion of his neighbors', he passed for an excellent patrioť, as the term was then understood. He contrived', however, to conceal his real feelings under an air of gayetyo; and on many occasions', in order to avoid suspicion', he had

* Pronounced Argen'ton; g as in age. † Pronounced Ro-bes-peer.

The department des Deux Seo'res. & Maturin; u long.

even received into his mill the officers of the tyranť, and en tertained them hospitably.

Toinetté,* his daughter', a little girl only ten years of agé, was his only confidantt and companion. She was the deposiiary of his secrets“; and possessing a great deal of prudencé, together with an appearance of childish innocencé, she was particularly useful to her father in aiding his efforts to deceive the cruel agents of Robespierrè; and she shared in all his rejoicings' when they had the good fortune to rescue any innocent sufferer from their snares.

On evening', Toinette had gone down to a fountain at some distance from the mill', in order to bring home fresh water for supper, when her father should return from labor. She filled her pitcher', and placing it on the ground', by the side of the well’, she seated herself on a mossy bank', under the shade of a beach tree which grew above it. The sun was just setting : there was not the slightest noise to disturb the calm silence which reigned around her; and leaning her head on her arm“, she began to reflect on some melancholy tales of recent suffering' which her father had been relating to her that morning. She had not remained in this position more than a few moments, when she fancied that she heard the voice of some one in distress“ apparently' very near her. She started at an incident so unusual"; and listening for a moment, heard distinctly a low, fāint moan', which seemed to issue from a hovel not far from the well. It had formerly been a comfortable cottage; but having been destroyed by fire about a year before', little more than the four walls and a part of the roof' were now remaining.

She arose instantly', and proceeding towards the ruined hut', was about to enter the door', when she perceived the figure of a man' stretched on the ground', wasted and palè, and appàrently in the last struggle of death. She drew near to him without hesitation", attempted to raise his head', and asked him some questions in a voice of pity. The unfortunate man fixed his eyes intently on the little girl", and said in a low voicé, “Give me some bread'; I am perishing from hunger'.”

At these words', the tears came into the eyes of Toinette ; she knew not what to dò; she had no bread with her',-and from the exhausted state of the poor sufferer', she feared to leave him to procure any', lest on her return' she should find that he had breathed his last. For a few moments' she hesi

* Oi as in boil; nette, pronounced nett, accented. + Confident would be better.

tated what to dò,—whether to gó, or remain where she was; at length, thinking she had better leave him', and fetch some food', than stay with him', and perhaps see him expire' before her eyes', she gently laid his head on the floors, and had proceeded a few steps from the door of the hut on her way home, when she remembered that she had a pear and some chestnuts in her pocket. The recollection of these treasures no sooner flashed on her mind', than she ran back', and placing the head of the poor man upon her knee', she put a small piece of the pear in his mouth. He had been so long without food', that it was with some difficulty he swallowed the first morsel ; but by degrees he seemed to revive', and by the time he had finished the fruit', he was so far recovered as to be able to answer the questions of the little girl.

“ Tell mè,” said Toinetté,“ how long you have been in this horrible placé ? for your clothes are all ragged', and you cannot have been shaved for many weeks. But you shall come with mē to my home; it is not far distant, and my father is kind to all who are in distress'; and when you are well", he will give you employment in our mill', and every day' you shall have abundance to eat', and a comfortable bed to sleep on' at night.

“ Alas'! my child',” replied Monsieur Passot,* (for that was the name of the unhappy man',) “it is impossible for me to take advantage of the offer which you are so kind as to make

I am unfortunately obliged to fly', and to conceal myself', far from the haunts of my fellow-creatures; but I should rather prefer to perish here', than to end my days on a scaffold. I can only thank

you

for your kindness', but I cannot accept of it'; fetch me a little bread'—it is all that I ask'; and promise me faithfully that you will not mention', even to your father', your having seen me.”

Toinette did all in her power to persuade Monsieur Passot to alter his determination', and to confide in her father'; but, finding that she could not succeed', she promised to keep his secret inviolable; and “do not think,” said shé, “ that I will abandon you here without assistance. Oh, no! I will procure you something to eat' now', and will find the means to return to you every day', and to bring you some bread. No one shall know of your existence; and, for myself', I will die rather than betray you."

When she had gone“, Monsieur Passot found himself much more composed and tranquil: he was thankful for the interest which Toinette had taken in his welfaré, and he considered it

me.

* Munseer (nearly) Passo. Monsieur signifies Mister, or Master.

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as an especial interference of Providence to preserve his life. He could now' keep himself concealed as long as he chosé, since his little friend had undertaken to provide him with food; and he hoped to be enabled by this means to elude his enemies' till his name should be forgotten', or a new order of things in France would permit his return to his home and his family.

In a few minutes Toinette was again by his side', with some bread, and a little cup of milk', from which the poor sufferer eagerly drank', and seemed much refreshed. Toinette would have been very glad to learn the particulars of Monsieur Pas sot's escapè; but, fearing that her father would miss her', and inquire the cause of her absence, she took a reluctant leave of her protege ;* and hastening to the well, she took up her pitcher, and returned to the mill', rejoicing to have had it in her power thus to save the life of a fellow-creature.

The little girl, faithful to her promisé, continued to supply her pensioner', at stated periods', with bread', to which she occasionally added some vegetables or cheese. Monsieur Passot took great pleasure in her intelligent and child-like conversation; and, on hēr part', Toinette was so pleased with her friend' that she was never in a hurry to leave him and return to the mill. At the same time, she was grieved to see that he had no other covering or shelter than the wretched hovel where he lay, and which was in fact more fit to be the retreat of a wild beast than that of a human being. In vain she renewed', from time to time', her entreaties that he would confide in the protection of her father, and remove to the mill. He was too generous to endanger', by his presence, the safety of honest Maturin'; and preferred enduring all the horrors of his present situation', from a conviction that to their kindness he was chiefly indebted for concealment and security.

One morning', when Toinette and he were deeply engaged in conversation', they were alarmed by the approach of a third person', who suddenly started from amongst the trees', and struck them with terror by his presence. Toinette, however', soon recovered her confidencé when she recognised her father; and, turning to Monsieur Passot', she entreated him not to suspect hēr' of having told Maturin of his living in the forest.

Ask himself”,” said the little girl eagerly', “and he will assurer you that I have not.”

Her father', thus appealed tó, replied', “It is very true, my child', that you never havè; but how could you suppose that I

* Protege-a French word; one who is protected. G as in age, and tho final e sounded.

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