would search and ill-treat the party unless they immediately gave them a hundred pounds; and they seemed prepared to put their threats into execution.

4. "You will easily find twice that sum," said an old man seated at the back of the coach, who during the whole journey had remained entirely silent, or had spoken only in monosyllables,* "if you make that lady take off her shoes and stockings."

5. The robbers followed this advice, took the bank-note, and departed. No sooner had they disappeared than there was an outcry against the old man, among the travellers. They loaded him with reproach and insult, and even threatened to throw him out of the coach. The young woman's grief exceeded description. The old man seemed insensible to these insults and menaces, only once excusing himself by saying, "Every one must think of himself first."

6. In the evening, when the coach reached its destination, the old man contrived to make his escape before his fellow-passengers had an opportunity of visiting their displeasure upon him The young woman passed a frightful night. What was her surprise, on the following morning, when a sum of four hundred Cands was placed in her hands, together with a magnificent comb, and the following letter:

7. "MADAM: The man whom yesterday you detested, with reason, returns to you the sum you have lost, with interest which makes it double, together with a comb nearly equal in value. I am exceedingly distressed at the grief I was compelled to cause you. A few words will explain my conduct. I have just returned from India, where I have passed ten weary years. I have gained by my industry thirty thousand pounds, and the whōle of this sum I had yesterday about me in bank-notes.

*The narrative portion of this paragraph- which is that portion not included in quotation marks (see ¶ 6)—should be read without dropping the voice, according to the rule given for the Parenthesis, ¶ 171. When. similar narrative forms of speech are inter osed in a remark attributed to some character who is represented as speaking in the first person, apply the same rule.

8. "Had I been searched with the rigor with which we were threatened, I must have lost everything. What was 1 to do? I could not run the risk of having to return to India with empty hands. Your frankness furnished mowith the means of escaping the difficulty. Therefore I entreat you to think nothing of this trifling present, and to believe me henceforth, devotedly, "YOURS."

9. Now, what shall we think of the conduct of the old man in a moral point of view? If the robbers, notwithstanding their promise (and the word of a robber is not to be depended on),17 had searched every one, and had taken his thirty thousand pounds away from the old man, it would have been out of his power to restore the two hundred pounds to the young woman, and yet it would have been through his means that she would have lost them.

10. In order to escape some great calamity ourselves, have we a right to inflict an equally serious injury on another? The loss of the two hundred pounds was as great a calamity to the young woman as that of the thirty thousand would have been to the old man, since it was the whole of her wealth. The old man wished, no doubt, to make good her loss, but in this he might have been prevented; and in running this risk his moral error consisted.

11. Here lies the difference between Prudence and Virtue: Prudence commences by studying how to escape a difficulty, and thinks it has done enough when it has promised itself to repair the injury inflicted on another. Virtue does not content itself with the hope of repairing a wrong at some future day: it does not commit it; and thus, though it is often more unfortunate, 14 is always more tranquil. So that Virtue alone has no occasion to dread the future.

12. It is in doing evil with the idea of its resulting in good, or with the intention of repairing it, that men often plunge into difficulties and errors, from which they are afterwards unable to extricate themselves. Whereas, ou the contrary, we ought first of all to make sure of our virtue and then take all the advan tage we can of circumstances. Madame Guizot.

VIII.

THE TUTOR AND HIS PUPILS.

WELL, Robert, where have you been walking, this afternoon! said a tutor13 to one of his pupils, at the close of a holiday.

Robert. I have been to Broom-heath, and so round by the windmill, upon Camp-mount, and home, through the meadors by the river-side.

Tutor. Well, that is a pleasant round.

Robert. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with a single person. I would much rather have gone along the turnpike road.

Tutor. Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you would, indeed, be better entertained on the high road. But did you see William ?

Robert. We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I walked on and left him.

Tutor. That was a pity. He would have been company for you.

Robert. O! he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this thing and that; I would rather walk alone. I dare say he has not got home yet.

Tutor. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been?

William. O, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broomheath, and so up to the mill at the top of the mount, and then down among the green meadows by the side of the river.

Tutor. Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking and he complains of its dulness, and prefers the high road.

William. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step that did not delight me, and I have brought home my handker. chief full of curiosities.

Tutor. Suppose, then, you give us an account of what amused you so much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as to me. William. I will do it readily. The lane leading to ‘- neath. you know, is close and sandy; so I did not a it much, but made the best of my way; however, spied a curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of which

grew a great branch of something green, quite different from Here is a branch of it.

a plant of great fame for the of old, in their religious rites

the tree itself. Tutor. Ah! this is mistletoe; use made of it by the Druids and incantations. It bears a slimy white berry, of which birdlime is made, whence its Latin name of viscus. It is one of those plants which do not grow in the ground, by a root of their own, but fix themselves upon other plants; whence they have been humorously styled "parasitical," as being hangers-on or dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak that the Druids particularly honored.

William. A little further on I saw a green wood-pecker fly to a tree, and run up the trunk like a cat.

Tutor. That was to seek for insects in the bark, on which they live. They bore holes with their strong bills for that purpose, and do much damage to the trees by it.

William. When I got upon the open heath, how charming it was! The air seemed so fresh, and the prospect on every side so free and unbounded! Then it was all covered with gay flowers, many of which I had never observed before. There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy part of the heath, that amused me much. As I came near them, some of them kept flying round and round, just over my head, and crying "pewit,' so distinctly one might almost 'fancy they spoke. I thought I should have caught one of them, for he flew as if one of his wings was broken, and often tumbled close to the ground; but as I came near he always contrived to get away.

Tutor. Ha, ha! you were finely taken in, then! This was all an artifice of the bird's to entice you away from its nest; or they build upon the bare ground, and their nest would easily be observed did they not draw off the attention of intruders by their loud cries and counterfeited lameness.

William. I wish I had known that, for he led me a long chase, often over shoes in water. However, it was the cause of my falling in with an old man and a boy, who were cutting and piling up turf for fuel and I had a good deal of talk with

them about the manner of preparing the turf. and the price it sells at.

I then took my course up to the windmill, on the mount. L climbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view of the country around. What an extensive prospect! I counted fifteen church-steeples: and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out from the midst of green woods and plantations; and I could trace the windings of the river all along the low grounds, till it was lost behind a ridge of hills.

From the hill I went straight down to the meadows below, and walked on the side of a little brook till it entered the river, and then I took the path that runs along the bank. On the opposite side I observed several little birds running along the shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and white, and about as big as a snipe.

Tutor. I suppose they were sand-pipers,- one of the numerous family of birds that get their living by wading among the shallows, and picking up worms and insects.

William. There were a great many swallows, too, sporting on the surface of the water, that entertained me with their motions. Sometimes they dashed into the stream; sometimes they pursued one another so quickly that the eye could scarcely follow them. In one place, where a high, steep sand-bank rose directly above the river, I observed many of them go in and out of holes with which the bank was bored full.

Tutor. Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our four species of swallows. They are of a mouse-color above, and white beneath. They make their nests and bring up their young in these holes, which run a great depth, and by their situation are secure from all plunderers.

ΕΙ

William. A little further, I saw a man in a bōat, who was cătching eels in an odd way. He had a long pole, with broad iron prongs at the end, just like Neptune's trident, only there were five instead of three. This he pushed straight down among the mud in the deepest part of the river, and fetched up eels sticking between the prongs.

Tutor. I have seen this method. It is called spearing of eels