land, for which I paid no rent, and that you, after regularly paying me a hundred a year for the half, are able, so soon, to purchase it."

4. "The reason is plain," answered the farmer.-"You sat still, and said, Go. I stood up, and said, Come. You lay in bed, and enjoyed your ease. I rose in the morning, and minded my business."

Dishonesty Punished.-KANE'S HINTS.

1. AN usurer,* having lost a hundred pounds in a bag, promised a reward of ten pounds to the person who should restore it. A man having brought it to him, demanded the

reward.

The usurer, loth to give the reward, now that he had got the bag, alleged, after the bag was opened, that there were a hundred and ten pounds in it, when he lost it. The usurer, being called before the judge, unwarily acknowledged that the seal was broken open in his presence, and that there were no more at that time than a hundred pounds in the bag.

3. "You say," says the judge," that the bag you lost had a hundred and ten pounds in it." "Yes, my lord." “Then,” replied the judge, "this cannot be your bag, as it contained but a hundred pounds; therefore the plaintiff must keep it till the true owner appears: and you must look for your bag where you can find it."

LESSON XL.

SOCRATES AND Leander.

Disrespect to Parents, is in no case allowable.

1. LEANDER, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into a violent passion with his mother. Socrates was witness to this shameful misbehavior, and attempted the correction of it, in the following gentle and rational manner.

2. "Come hither, son," said he; "have you never heard of men, who are called ungrateful?" "Yes, frequently," answered Usurer, one who lends money, and takes unlawful interest.

Socrates, the greatest of the ancient philosophers, was born at Athens in Greece, 467 B. C. He was unjustly condemned to death by the Athenians, on a charge of atheism, 400 B. C.

the youth. "And what is ingratitude?" demanded Socrates. "It is to receive a kindness," said Leander, "without making a proper return, when there is a favorable opportunity."

6. If.

3. Ingratitude is therefore a species of injustice," said Socrates. "I should think so," answered Leander. then," pursued Socrates, "ingratitude be injustice, does it not follow, that the degree of it must be proportionate to the magnitude of the favors which have been received?" Leander admitted the inference; and Socrates thus pursued his interrogations:

4. "Can there subsist higher obligations than those which children owe to their parents; from whom life is derived and supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered honorable, useful, and happy?" "I acknowledge the truth of what you say," replied Leander; "but who could suffer, without resentment, the ill humors of such a mother as I have?" "What strange thing has she done to you?" said Socrates.

5." She has a tongue," replied Leander, "that no mortal can bear." "How much more," said Socrates, "has she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant cries, in the period of infancy! What anxieties has she suffered from the levities, capriciousness, and follies, of your childhood and youth! What affliction has she felt, what toil and watching has she sustained, in your illnesses! These, and various other powerful motives to filial duty and gratitude, have been recognised* by the legislators of our republic. For if any be disrespectful to his parents, he is not permitted to enjoy any post of trust or honor.

6. "It is believed that a sacrifice, offered by an impious hand, can neither be acceptable to Heaven nor profitable to the state; and that an undutiful son cannot be capable of performing any great action, or of executing justice with impartiality. Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will pray to heaven to pardon the offences committed against your mother.

7. "Let no one discover the contempt with which you have treated her; for the world will condemn, and abandon you for such behavior. And if it be even suspected, that you repay with ingratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevitably forego the kindness of others; because no man will pose, that you have a heart to requite either his favors or his friendship."

Pronounced Rec ́-og-nizd.

sup

LESSON XLI.

SOCRATES AND DEMETRIUS.

Brethren should dwell together in harmony.

1. Two brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having quarrelled with each other, Socrates, their common friend, was solicitous to restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with Demetrius, he thus accosted him: "Is not friendship the sweetest solace in adversity, and the greatest enhancement of the blessings of prosperity?" "Certainly it is," replied Demetrius ; "because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys increased by sympathetic participation."

2. "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?" said Socrates. "Would you search among strangers? They cannot be interested about you. Amongst your rivals? They have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who are much older, or younger than yourself? Their feelings and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there not, then, some circumstances favorable, and others essential, to the formation of friendship?"

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3. "Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius. "May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, " amongst the circumstances favorable to friendship, long acquaintance, common connexions, similitude of age, and union of interest?" acknowledge," said Demetrius, "the powerful influence of these circumstances: but they may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essential to mutual amity."

4. "And what," said Socrates, 66 are those essentials which are wanting in Timon?" "He has forfeited my esteem and attachment," answered Demetrius, "And has he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of mankind?" continued Socrates. "Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections ?" "Far be it from me," cried Demetrius," to lay so heavy a charge upon him: his conduct to others is, I believe, irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, that he should single me out as the object of his unkindness." 5. "Suppose you have a very valuable horse," resumed Socrates, gentle under the treatment of others, but ungovernable, when you attempt to use him; would you not endeavor by all means, to conciliate his affection, and to treat him in the way most likely to render him tractable? Or, if you have a dog, highly prized for his fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, who is fond of your shepherds, and playful with them,

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and yet snarls whenever you come in his way; would you attempt to cure him of this fault by angry looks or words, or by any other marks of resentment? You would surely pursue an opposite course with him.

6. "And is not the friendship of a brother of far more worth, than the services of a horse, or the attachment of a dog? Why then do you delay to put in practice those means, which may reconcile you to Timon?" "Acquaint me with those means," answered Demetrius, "for I am a stranger to them." "Answer me a few questions," said Socrates.

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7. "If you desire that one of your neighbors should invite you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, what course would you take?"-"I would first invite him to mine.”—“ And how would you induce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are on a journey?"-"I should be forward to do the same good office to him, in his absence."

8. "If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice, which he may have received against you, how would you then behave towards him ?"—" I should endeavor to convince him, by my looks, words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill founded."— "And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would you reproach him with the injustice he had done you?" "No," answered Demetrius; "I would repeat no grievances."

9. "Go," said Socrates, "and pursue that conduct towards your brother, which you would practise to a neighbor. His friendship is of inestimable worth; and nothing is more lovely in the sight of Heaven, than for brethren to dwell together in unity."

LESSON XLII.

The Dead Horse.-STERNE.*

1. AND this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet and this should have been thy portion, said he, hadst thou been alive to have shared it with me. I thought by the accent it had been an apostrophe to his child; but it was to his horse, and to the very horse we had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true touches of nature.

* Laurence Sterne, an eminent writer, was born at Clomwell, in Ireland, 1713. He died 1768, in London. **

2. The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the horse's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took up from time to time-then laid them down-looked at them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some time in his hand -then laid it upon the bit of his horse's bridle-looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made-and then gave a sigh.

3. The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, while the horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting in the post chaise, I could see and hear over their heads.

4. He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the farthest borders of Franconia:* and had got so far on his return home, when his horse died. Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.

5. "It had pleased Heaven," he said, "to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week lost two of them by the small pox, and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all, and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Jago in Spain."

6. When the mourner got thus far in his story, he stopped to pay nature her tribute-and wept bitterly. He said, "Heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey-that it had eaten the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend."

7. Every body who stood about heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur offered him money-The mourner said he did not want it-it was not the value of the horse-but the loss of him—The horse, he said, he was assured loved him—and upon this told them a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains,† which had separated them from each other three days; during which time the horse had. sought him as much as he had sought the horse, and that neither had scarce eat or drank till they met."

8. "Thou hast one comfort, friend," said I, "at least, in the loss of thy poor beast; I am sure thou hast been a merciful master to him."-"Alas!" said the mourner, "I thought so, when he was alive-but now he is dead, I think otherwise--I

*Formerly a province, or circle of Germany.

+ Py-re'-ne-an mountains, between France and Spain.