port was a captain in the king's army, and Erskine a judge appointed by the parliament.

3. In an action between the king's and parliament's army, the king's army was defeated, and captain Freeport taken prisoner.

4. The parliament sent judge Erskine to take trial of the prisoners, among whom was his once generous school-fellow Freeport. They had been so long separated, that they did not know one another's faces. Judge Erskine, therefore, was on the point of condemning all the prisoners, without distinction But, when their names were read over, before pronouncing sentence, he heard his friend Freeport named; and looking attentively in his face, asked him if ever he had been at West minster school? He answered, he had. Erskine said no more. but immediately stopt proceeding, rode up to London, and in a few days returned with a signed pardon in his pocket for captain Freeport.

The Young Recruit.

1. A FEW years since, an officer being on a recruiting party. made a short stay at a village, where he enlisted several recruits. The evening preceding his departure, a tall, genteel youth offered himself. The captain, at first, wished to have this young fellow in his company; but seeing him tremble, and attributing this emotion to timidity, he mentioned his suspicions on that head, and endeavoured to encourage him. Ah! sir,' exclaimed the youth with tears, my confusion arises only from the dread of being refused. You perhaps will not accept me, in which case how dreadful is my misfortune.'

2. The captain assured him that he was ready to enlist him, and demanded his terms. 'I cannot propose them without trembling,' answered the youth: I am young, able, and willing to serve my country; but an unfortunate circumstance constrains me to demand conditions, which, no doubt, you will think exorbitant: be assured, however, I should not sell my liberty, unless compelled by pressing necessity. I cannot enlist under fifty dollars; and you will break my heart if you reject me.' The sum is considerable,' replied the captain, but I like you; there is the money; keep yourself ready to march at an hour's notice.'

3. The young man joyfully accepted the bounty; he then begged leave to fulfil a sacred obligation, and promised to return instantly to his quarters. The captain remarking something

extraordinary in his behaviour, determined to watch him, and observed him to run to the county gaol; and the moment it was opened, heard him call out, Here are the debts and costs for which my father is imprisoned: conduct me to him, that I may have the pleasure of setting him free.'

4. The captain stops, to give him time to reach his father alone, and then enters the prison. He sees him clasped in the arms of an old man, whose liberty he had purchased at the price of his own. The captain, sensibly affected, advanced to the old man : • Comfort yourself,' said he, I will not deprive you of your son; he is free as well as you: here is your discharge.'

5. The father and son threw themselves at his feet; the last declines the generous offer of his liberty, and conjures the captain to permit him to join his regiment, saying, that he should only be burdensome to his aged parent, who had no farther need of him. The captain complies with his request. The youth served the usual time, always saving something from his pay, which he constantly remitted to his father; and when he procured his discharge, he returned home, and ever afterwards maintained the old man by his own industry.

Lucretia and Virginia.

1. THESE two young ladies were the pride of the village where they dwelt. Both of them were handsome to perfection, but of dispositions exceedingly different. The unaffected Virginia was attentive to assist the infirmities of an aged parent, whom decrepitude confined to his cottage. She carefully attended his flock, or was employed in some useful and necessary work.

2. While knitting or spinning to procure him a more comfortable subsistence, her cheerful songs expressed a contented heart. Her dress, though plain, was neat and clean; she studied no vain or fantastic ornament; and whenever her person was complimented, she lent no attention.

3. Lucretia had been bred up under a careless mother. She was extremely conscious of being pretty. On holidays nobody was so spruce. Wreaths of flowers and ribands bedecked her hat; every fountain had been explored for her dress, and every theadow ransacked to adorn it. From morn to night she danced or sported on the green.

4. The shepherds admired or flattered her, and she beJieved every word they said. Yet she felt many a discontent. Sometimes her garland was not sufficiently becoming; some

times she imagined that a favourite shepherd was inattentive to her, or that he admired a new face. Every day was spent in frolic and dissipation, and every night brought with it some disquiet.

5. She was one morning sitting pensively under a poplar, tying up a nosegay, when she heard Virginia singing cheerfully in praise of industry. Lucretia approached her, and found she was busily engaged in plying the distaff.

6. How is it possible, Virginia,' said she,' ' that you should always be so merry while leading a life of drudgery?'

7. I prefer this way of life,' answered Virginia, 'because I perceive you are very unhappy in yours. I enjoy at least tranquillity and peace of mind, because I acquit myself well in the station in which Providence has placed me. I am the means of producing comfort for a good old father, who supported me in helpless infancy, and now requires this return of duty. When I have penned the fold at night, I return to his cot, and cheer

him with my presence. I then prepare a supper, of which we partake with more pleasure than you do at a feast. My father afterwards relates to me the stories he has treasured up in his memory, and imparts the precepts of wisdom and experience. Sometimes he teaches me a song, and at other times I read to him in some good book. Thus, Lucretia, does my life pass.. My expectations are few; but I cherish many a joyful hope, which makes my heart light and easy.'

Negligence.

1. CHILDREN are apt to think that a few minutes added to their diversions can make no difference; and minutes slide away insensibly into hours; their play becomes more interesting, the game is nearly concluded, or the kite will be down, it is a pity to stop its flight; a race will shortly be determined, or some such reason prevails, till the time is elapsed in which their business should have been performed. Thus they are left to bewail, in sorrow and regret, the folly of their negligence.

2. It would be more prudent, therefore, at first, to secure essentials, and do what is necessary, before they begin to engage in those diversions, which, however laudable in their proper seasons, may frequently ensnare them into an errour, and subject them to severe punishment.

The Improvement of Time.

1. A LATE author, whose writings have much engaged the public attention, has asserted, that time was nothing but a quee

t

cession of ideas and actions. Hence those who have thought and done much in a short period, have, in effect, lived longer than those whose thoughts and actions have been but few, though their years may have been many.

2. To apply this maxim, therefore, to yourselves, I would observe, that if, in the course of your education, you have applied your minds to such objects of improvement as have stored the memory with a variety of ideas, and thereby increased your knowledge, or kept you well employed, you may then be said to have lived longer than those, who, though superiour to you in age, yet are inferiour in mental attainments.

3. Such persons, by neglecting to cultivate their minds in childhood, when arrived to middle age, are but infants in respect of time, if measured by the ideas they have acquired; whereas those in a state of youth, may be said to have attained to riper manhood, who have thought and acted to some useful purpose.

4. This, then, is a very natural inference, and which I would recommend to your notice, that our lives, when well employed in public or private pursuits, will certainly be longer than if dozed away in sloth and idleness; and while virtue crowns the former course with renown, contempt will ever mark the steps of the latter. Because life is short, that we are to spend it all in pleasure, is a sophism flattering as it is false: guard, therefore, against such notions, that you may not be exposed to taste the sorrows of self-deception.

5. There cannot be a more wretched set of beings than those whose study is to despise time, because they cannot enjoy or improve it, and whose minds are on the constant rack to find some new object: such are sure to be a burden to themselves, and will most probably prove so to others.

Idleness and Irresolution.

1. A MAN, who wanted to pass a river, stood loitering on the banks of it, in the foolish expectation that a current so rapid would soon discharge its waters. But the stream still flowed, increased, perhaps, by fresh torrents from the mountains; and it must forever flow, because the sources from which it is derived are inexhaustible.

2. Thus the idle and irresolute youth trifles over his books, or wastes in play his precious moments; deferring the task of improvement, which, at first, is easy to be accomplished, but which will become more and more difficult the longer it is neplected.

Obedience to Parents, and other Duties.

1. THE happiness of parents is so connected with the goodness of children, that if they are undutiful, negligent and wicked, it will make their parents miserable. And can you, my young friends, bear the thought of making them unhappy, whose sole aim in life is to promote your felicity? Can you receive with indifference that advice which is designed entirely for your good? Do not they provide for all your wants? And are you not indebted to their kindness for your food, your clothing, and every convenience which you enjoy ?

2. Obedience to your parents is one of the first duties you can perform in life, and is the only return you can make for those continual favours which you daily receive.

3. As human nature is subject to many wants, the great Father of the universe has ordained that we should live together, and that numbers, by helping each other, should procure those conveniences, which no man alone could obtain.

4. Every person, therefore, has some duties to perform, which are known by the name of social duties; because, if it were possible for us to live quite alone, those duties could not be exerted. For, had we no parents, we could not obey them; had we no brothers or sisters, we could not love them; had we no friends or instructers, we could not be thankful and attentive to them; and, were the poor and wretched unknown to us, we could not be kind and charitable.

Ingratitude.

1. INGRATITUDE in a child to a parent is so universally odious, that a thankless child has been detested in all ages and nations; for if ingratitude to a common benefactor is justly deemed one of the blackest crimes, how black must be that ingratitude, when that benefactor is a parent! parent! As a grateful disposition, especially towards a parent, is a strong indication of a virtuous mind, so we cannot easily suppose that those who are ungrateful to parents can be grateful to others, or that their hearts can have that tenderness which is the basis of almost every other virtue.

Filial Affection.

1. AMONG all human duties, none have a stronger claim to ur attention than filial affection: for, next to our Maker, our parents are entitled to our veneration, gratitude and ester Yet, with all these claims upon their children's affection, often has the unhappy parent the misery of finding pertr