THE CHARITABLE CHILDREN. 77 Putnam was ever engaged—a circumstance the more to be wondered at, as he was exceedingly fiery and impetuous in his disposition. However well his reputation for courage might have been, association with officers of all descriptions, during a war of eight years' continuance, must have brought him into situations in which it required a great degree of forbearance to avoid personal combats. THE CHARITABLE CHILDREN. Morvan, a widower, came to Paris last winter with his son, from a great distance, for the sake of obtaining work at the fortifications. He procured a place for his son Giles, a boy of nine years old, at the school of Passy, kept by Mr. Benjamin Delessert. Both father and son were in the greatest poverty; so that they often went to bed without any supper. "We are going to do without food at our house, to night," said the boy, one day, to one of his school-fellows, " for we have no bread." Immediately a boy almost as poor, named Toussaint Antoine, offered to share his meal with them; and one by one, all the others, touched by the description of such extreme poverty, agreed to bring each a piece of bread daily, so as to provide not only for the boy, but for his father also, who was thrown out of work, by the bad weather. Sometimes they even brought him small pieces of money, and articles of clothing, shoes, &c.: so that Giles carried home every evening, food enough for their supper, and for their breakfast, the following morning. When the father and son returned home in the Spring, it is to be supposed they did not soon forget these charitable boys. over, AMERICAN RUSTIC HOSPITALITY. ETURNING from an excursion, says a late traveller in the west, I was overtaken by night, and found my path obstructed by a deep inlet, which, being choked with logs and brush, could not be crossed by swimming. Observing a house on the opposite side, I called for assistance. A half-naked, ill-looking fellow came down, and after dragging a canoe round from the river, with some trouble, ferried me and I followed him to his habitation, near to which our boat was moored for the night. His cabin was of the meanest kind, consisting of a single apartment, constructed of logs, which contained a family of seven or eight souls, and everything seemed to designate him as a new and unthrifty settler. After drinking a bowl of milk, which I really called for by way of excuse for paying him a little more for his trouble, I asked to know his charge for ferrying me over the water, to which he good-humoredly replied, that he "never took money for helping a traveller on his way." "Then let me pay you for your milk." "I never sell milk." "But," said I, urging him, "I would rather pay you, I have money enough." "Well," said he, "I have milk enough, so we're even; I have as good a right to give you milk as you have to give me money." HENRY CLAY. A few years since, shortly after the agitation of the famous compensation bill in Congress, Mr. Clay, who voted in favor of this bill, upon returning home to his constituents, found a formidable opposition arrayed against his re-election. After addressing the people from the hustings, previous to the opening of the poll, he stepped down into the crowd, where he met an old and influential friend of his, named Scott, one of the first settlers of Kentucky, and of course, in his younger days, a great huntsman. This gentleman, stepping up, addressed Mr. Clay as follows-" Well, well, Harry, I've been with you in six troubles; I am sorry I must now desert you in the seventh; you have voted for that miserable compensation bill; I must now turn my back upon you." "Is it so, friend Scott? Is this the only objection?" "It is.” "We must get over it the best way we can. You are an old huntsman ?" "Yes." “You have killed many a fat bear and buck?" "Yes." "I believe you have a very good rifle ?" "Yes, as good a one as ever cracked.” "Well, did you ever have a fine buck before you, when your gun snapped?" "The like of that has happened." "Well, now, friend Scott, did you take that faithful rifle and break it all to pieces on the very next log you came to, or did you pick the flint and try it again?" The tear stood in the old man's eyes. The chord was touched. "No, Harry, I picked the flint, and tried her again; and I'll try you again; give us your hand." We need scarcely say that the welkin rung with the huzzaing plaudits of the by-standers. Clay was borne off to the hustings and re-elected. KOSCIUSKO. "Hope for a season bade the world farewell, Campbell. The virtuous hero of Poland, Thaddeus Kosciusko, was born in Lithuania, and educated at Warsaw. When very young, he was informed that the Americans were preparing to shake off the yoke of Britain. His ardent and generous mind caught |