CHAPTER II.

NARRATIVE PIECES..

SECTION I.

THE PIOUS SONS.

IN one of those terrible eruptions of mount Ætna which have often happened, the danger to the inhabitants of the adjacent country was uncommonly great. To avoid immediate destruction from the flames, and melted lava which ran down the sides of the mountain, the people were obliged to retire to a considerable distance. Amidst the hurry and confusion of such a scene, (every one flying and carrying away whatever he deemed most precious,) two brothers, the one named Anapias, the other Amphinomus, in the height of their solicitude for the preservation of their wealth and goods, suddenly recollected that their father and mother, both very old, were unable to save themselves by flight. Filial tenderness triumphed over every other consideration. "Where," cried the generous youths," shall we find a more precious treasure, than they are who gave us being, and who have cherished and protected us through life?" Thus having said, the one took up his father on his shoulders, and the other his mother, and happily made their way through the surrounding smoke and flames. All who were

witnesses of this dutiful and affectionate conduct, were struck with the highest admiration; and they and their posterity, ever after, called the path which these good young men took in their retreat, "The Field of the Pious."

SECTION II.

FILIAL SENSIBILITY.

A STRONG instance of affectionate and dutiful attach ment to parents, has been related in the preceding section. The following display of filial tenderness is scarcely less interesting and extraordinary.

A young gentleman in one of the academies at Paris, was remarked for eating nothing but soup and dry bread, and drinking only water. The governor of the institution, attributing this singularity to excess of devotion, reproved his pupil, and endeavoured to persuade him to alter his resolution. Finding, however, that his remonstrances were ineffectual, he sent for him again, and observed to him, that such conduet was highly unbecoming, and that it was his duty to conform to the rules of the academy. He then endeavoured to learn the reason of his pupil's conduct; but as the youth could not be prevailed upon to impart the secret, the governor at last threatened to send him back to his family. This menace produced an immediate explanation: "Sir," said the young man, "in my father's house I eat nothing but black bread, and of that very little here I have good soup, and excellent white:

bread; and though I might, if I chose it, fare luxuriously, I cannot persuade myself to take any thing else, when I reflect on the situation in which I have left my father and mother." The governor was greatly moved by this instance of filial sensibility, and could not refrain from tears. "Your father," said he, " has been in the army; has he no pension? "No, replied, the youth: "he has long been solicting one; but, for want of money, has been obliged to give up the pursuit: and rather than contract any debts at Versailles, he has chosen a life of wretchedness in the country." "Well," returned the governor, "if the fact is as you have represented it, I promise to procure for your father a pension of five hundred livres a year. And since your friends are in such reduced circumstances, take these three louis d'or, for your pocket expenses. I will undertake to remit to your father the first half year of his pension, in advance." "Ah, sir!" replied the youth, "as you have the goodness to promise remitting a sum of money to my father, I entreat you to add these three louis d'or to it. As I have here every thing I can wish for, I do not need them; but they would be of great use to my father in the maintenance of his other children."

SECTION III.

THE SECRET OF ALWAYS BEING SATISFIED.

A CERTAIN Italian bishop was remarkable for his happy and contented disposition. He met with much opposition, and encountered many difficulties in his

journey through life: but it was observed that he never repined at his condition, or betrayed the least degree of impatience. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired the virtue which he thought it impossible to imitate, one day asked the prelate if he could communicate the secret of being always satisfied. "Yes," replied the good old man, "I can teach you my secret, and with great facility. It consists in nothing more, than in making a right use of my eyes." His friend begged him to explain himself. "Most willingly," returned the bishop. In whatever state I am, I first of all look up to heaven: and reflect that my principal business here, is to get there. I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind that when I am dead, I shall occupy but a small space in it. I then look abroad into the world, and observe what multitudes there are, who, in every respect, are less fortunate than myself. Thus I learn where true happiness is placed; where all our cares must end; and how very little reason I have to repine, or complain."

ON a fine morning in summer, two bees set forward in quest of honey; the one wise and temperate, the other careless and extravagant. They soon arrived at a garden enriched with aromatic herbs, the most fragrant flowers, and the most delicious fruits. They regaled themselves with the various dainties that were

spread before them; the one loading his thighs at in tervals with provisions for the hive against the distant winter; the other revelling in sweets, without regard to any thing but his present gratification. At length they found a wide-mouthed phial, that hung beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey ready tempered, and exposed to their taste in the most alluring

manner.

The thoughtless epicure, in spite of his friend's remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vess sel, resolving to indulge himself in all the pleasures of sensuality. His philosophic companion, on the other hand, sipped a little with caution; but being suspicious of danger, flew off to fruits and flowers; where, by the moderation of his meals, he improved his relish for the true enjoyment of them. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to enquire whether he would return to the hive: but he found him surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his feet, and his whole frame totally enervated, he was but just able to bid his friend adieu; and to lament with his latest breath-that though a taste of pleasure may quicken the relish of life, an unrestrained indulgence leads to inevitable de

struction.

DODSLEY.

SECTION V.

CRUELTY TO INSECTS CONDEMNED.

A CERTAIN youth indulged himself in the cruel entertainment of torturing and killing flies. He tore off