which the city is intersected, missed his footing, and in trying to save himself, lost his hat. The populace laughed, and looked at the Englishman, expecting him to laugh too. On the contrary, he not only retained his composure, but promptly advancing to where the hat had rolled, and taking it up, presented it with an air of unaffected kindness to its confused owner. The officer received it with a blush of surprise and gratitude, and hurried to rejoin his company. There was a murmur of applause, and the stranger passed on. Though the transaction of a moment, and without a word spoken, it touched every heart-it was an act of that genuine politeness which springs from kind and gentle feelings. On the regiment being dismissed, the captain, who was a young man of rank, related the circumstance in glowing terms to his colonel. The colonel immediately mentioned it to the general in command; and when the Englishman returned to his hotel, he found an aid-de-camp waiting to request his company to dinner at head-quarters. In the evening he was carried to court-at that time the most brilliant in Europe-and was received with particular attention. During his subsequent stay at Turin, he was invited to the houses of all persons of importance, and at his departure he received letters of introduction to the different states of Italy. Thus a private gentleman, of moderate means, by a graceful act of kindness, was enabled to travel through a foreign country, then of the highest interest for its society, with more real distinction and advantage than can be derived from the mere circumstances of birth and fortune, even the most splendid. LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. Louis the Fourteenth, king of France, though in many respects not to be admired as a sovereign, displayed on many occasions the genuine politeness which springs from benevolence. In a gay party, at his palace of Versailles, an opportunity offered for his producing what he thought a droll story, but which, in telling, proved rather insipid. One of the company soon after left the room, and the king then said, "I am sure you must have all observed how very unin LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 57 teresting my anecdote was." The individuals present agreed that it was not exactly what they had been taught to expect. "I did not recollect," said the king, "till I had commenced my narrative, that the turn of it reflected very severely on the immediate ancestor of the Prince of Armagnac, who has just quitted us; and on this, as on every other occasion, I think it far better to spoil a good story than to distress a worthy man." This prince never indulged himself, nor would he permit any of his family to indulge themselves, in raillery against private individuals. "Such sallies," he said, "from persons of our rank, are thunderbolts and poisoned arrows.' When his son's wife on one occasion spoke of a man, loud enough to be heard by him, as the ugliest creature she ever saw, the king instantly said, with a severe look and an elevated voice, "I esteem him the handsomest man in my dominions; he is one of my best officers and bravest defenders, and I insist on your immediately apologising to him for the rudeness you have been guilty of." 66 Complaisance renders a superior amiable, an equal agreeable, and an inferior acceptable. It smoothes distinction, sweetens conversation, and makes every one in the company pleased with himself. It produces good-nature and mutual benevolence, encourages the timorous, soothes the turbulent humanises the fierce, and distinguishes a society of civilised persons from a confusion of savages.-ADDISON. A man has no more right to say an uncivil thing than to act one; no more right to say a rude thing to another, than to knock him down.-JOHNSON. Since trifles make the sum of human things, TEMPERANCE. To maintain health and strength, every person, whether old or young, requires a certain amount of food, some a - little more than others. There is with every one a certain quantity which may be called enough, according as he is a strong and healthy, or a slender and weakly person; and no one can take more than this enough without hurtful consequences. It is also necessary that no one should take too large a proportion of animal food, or of very finely dressed and spiced food, for all such excesses are productive of bodily ailments, and, if much persisted in, permanently injure health. He who eats much more than he ought to do is called a glutton: he who is fond of fine food is called an epicure. When any one thus sccks more enjoyment from his food than prudence would justify, he greatly lowers himself in the eyes of all who think and act rightly. We should take a pleasure in our food, and cat it in moderation, with cheerfulness and gratitude; but to think much about it, and to take great pains about its preparation, or to make eating the chief source of our happiness, is shameful in the highest degree. There is scarcely any vice so much despised as that of gluttony. Its objects are low and gross, and he who delights in it must needs become despicable. If it is bad to eat too much or too nicely, we may err still more in drinking. Man has invented various liquors, as wine, brandy, whisky, gin, and ale, of which no one can take a large quantity without great hurt to himself, and which, even in the most moderate quantities, are not perhaps to be taken without some degree of injury. In all of these fluids there is a quality called spirit, or alcohol, which has the effect, when a large quantity is taken, of exciting and intoxicating us, so that we lose our reason, and become fit to act like madmen. Under the influenco of this spirit, men do the most outrageous actions, not excepting murder; and even when they take only a little, their talk is apt to become foolish, and they often say what they afterwards THE TWO BEES: A FABLE. 59 bitterly repent of. All young persons should be greatly on their guard against tasting spirituous liquors, for taking a little leads to taking more, and that to taking so much, that ultimately a bad habit is acquired. Any one who is greatly given to drinking these liquors is called a drunkard, or a sot. Such a man, supposing that he avoids committing any very wicked action in his drunken moments, nevertheless is almost sure to suffer from his intemperance. He cannot work so steadily, or to such good purpose, as a sober man. No one can depend upon his executing the duties he undertakes. He therefore ceases to be employed, and The expense of the liquor he drinks adds to his poverty. His family, reduced to misery by his intemperate habits, cannot love or honour him. His home becomes a scene of wretchedness, and disease and penury cut short his days. becomes poor. THE TWO BEES: A FABLE. One fine morning in May, 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 for a time on the various daintics set before them; the one loading his thighs at intervals with wax for the construction of his hive; the other revelling in sweets without regard to anything but his present gratification. At length they found a wide-mouthed vial, that hung beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey. The thoughtless epicure, in spite of all his friend's remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself in all the pleasures of sensuality. The philosopher, on the other hand, sipped 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 for his friend, to inquire whether he would return to the hive, but found him surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his legs, 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 is inevitable destruction. LOUIS CORNARO. Louis Cornaro, a noble Venetian, lived intemperately, as the most of his friends did, till the age of forty, and was all that time rarely free from some disease, as pleurisy, gout, or fever, arising from his over-indulgence in eating and drinking. At last, by the advice of his physicians, he altogether reformed his mode of life, and became remarkable for temperance: the consequence was, that he was freed in a single year from all his diseases. He then allowed himself only twelve ounces of solid food, and fourteen ounces of light wine, a-day. This quantity of food is probably too little to maintain most persons, but it preserved Cornaro in health to a very advanced age. In his seventieth year, he had a fall, by which he broke his arm and leg: with some men, at that age, so great a hurt would have been difficult to heal, or might even have occasioned death, but with Cornaro, whose body was in the soundest condition, it was cured in a very short time. At eighty-three he could walk up hills, mount from the ground upon his horse, and he had so entire a mind, that he could write comedies. was always cheerful, and to the end of his days could join in the sports of children. This singular example of temperance attained the age of ninety-eight, when he died in the greatest tranquillity, and quite free from pain. JACK SIMPKIN. He Jack Simpkin, a sailor, who worked in the dockyards at Portsmouth, was much given to drinking. The natural consequence was, that he and his wife and children were always very ill clad and ill fed, and their house was a damp, dismal place, with scarcely any furniture. As Jack and some drunken companions were one evening passing along the street, he chanced to stumble into a place where a Temperance Society was holding one of its meetings. A mild, respectable-looking man was delivering a speech about |