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posed. With what eyes could Simon look upon this child? he must necessarily remain a lasting monument of your misconduct and disgrace. I can discern by your eyes that your choice is made; but you ought to consider, that you cannot always remain with this good woman, whose circumstances, however desirous she might be of befriending you, render it impossible. The money that Nanette sends you is taken from the support of herself and family. Nanette labours the ground while you caress Benjamin; and Nanette has been guilty of no fault. You have but one resource, which is to go into service either at Geneva or Chambery; but I doubt whether, without separating from your child, you would easily find a place. I allow you two days, to reflect on these matters. You will then inform me of your determination; and, depend on it, I will do every thing in my power to assist you." Claudine was sensible of the truth of all the curate had said; but she found it impossible to live without Benjamin.

"After passing a day and a night in reflecting on what she ought to do, she at last resolved: and after writing a letter to the curate, acknowledging all his kindness, which she left on her table, she made a bundle of her clothes, tied up twenty crowns, which still remained, in a handkerchief, and taking Benjamin in her arms, she departed from Salenches.

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"She took the road to Geneva, and slept that night at Bonville; for, account of little Benjamin, she could not travel far. The second day she arrived at Geneva. Her first care was to sell all her female clothes, and provide herself with a suit of man's attire; she even sold her fine black hair, and bought a knapsack, into which she put her clothes. She fastened the ring which she had always hitherto worn on her finger, round her neck. Thus clad like a young Savoyard, with a stout stick in her hand, her knapsack on her back, on the top of which

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Benjamin was seated, clasping his hands round her neck, she set out from Geneva on the road to Turin.

"She was twelve days in crossing the mountains; and people were so much pleased with the air and appearance of this handsome little Savoyard, and of the child whom she carried on her back, and called her little brother, that she was hardly allowed to pay any thing, but commonly discharged her reckoning by amusing the company with some of the little beautiful songs peculiar to her country; so that when Claudine arrived at Turin, she had still some of her money left, with which she hired a little garret, bought a brush and blacking, and, followed by little Benjamin, who never left her, she set up a little stall for blacking shoes, in the Palais Royal, under the name of Claude.

(To be concluded in our next.)

SINGULAR PRESERVATION. An interesting article upon the colony of the Cape of Good Hope, in which the emigrants are about to settle, appears in a late English periodical work; portraying its advantages and disadvantages, with the situation the emigrant is likely to be placed in, on his first arrival. In noticing the unerring skill of the grazier, (or Keboor) Colonist with his musket, the writer of the article relates the following little narrative, the hero of which was a person of the name of Van Wyk, and the story of his "perilous and fearful shot," is given in his own words.

"It is now," said he, "more than two years, in the very place where we stand, I ventured to take one of the most daring shots that ever was hazarded. My wife was sitting within the house, near the door; the children were playing about her: and I was without, near the house, busied in doing something to a waggon; when, suddenly, though it was midday, an enormous lion appeared, came

up, and laid himself quietly down in the shade, upon the threshold of the door. My wife, either frozen with fear, or aware of the danger attending any attempt to fly, remained motionless in her place, while the children took refuge in her lap. The cry they uttered attracted my attention, and I hastened towards the door; but my astonishment may well be conceived when I found the entrance to it barred in such a way. Although the animal had not seen me, unarmed as I was escape seemed impossible; yet, I glided gently, scarcely knowing what I meant to do, to the side of the house, up to the window of my chamber, where I knew my loaded gun was standing. By a most happy chance I had set it in a corner close by the window, so that I could reach it with my hand; the opening being too small to admit of my having got in, and still more fortunately, the door of the room was open, so that I could see the whole danger of the scene. The lion was beginning to move, perhaps with the intention of making a spring. There was no longer any time to think; I called softly to the mother not to be alarmed, and invoking the name of the Lord, fired my piece. The ball passed directly over the hair of my boy's head, and lodged in the forehead of the lion, immediately above his eyes, which shot forth, as it were, sparks of fire, and stretched him on the ground, so that he never stirred more."

From the Boston Patriot.

THE ORPHAN.

alas! she had none! She was an orphan. Long had a mother's voice ceased to instruct her by its precepts; a father's arm to protect and administer by its labour to her necessities. Both had been consigned to the grave; and Emma was left without a friend, on whom to depend for counsel or assistance. She was then beauteous; her form and graceful movements were those of Diana; the health of Hygeia bloomed upon her cheek; and the lily's spotless whiteness lent its complexion to her neck and bosom. Her mind was intelligent, though not learned; her heart a compound of virtue and credulity. Never had Emma performed an act that was wrong, knowing it to be so; never suspected guile or treachery in another, judging the world as it were by the standard of her own honesty and truth. Thus acting and believing; unskilled in the deceptive character of man; forlorn and needy; she was approached by a youth, whose prepossessing form and manners soon engaged her affections. With the malice and cunning of the arch fiend of old, he wooed, won, and deserted her! Wretched Emma! Virtue was once thy richest pride and solace-virtue! And is it then but a name that the charitable look at ? Art thou, Emma, still virtuous? Shall the fell machinations of a villain cast that approbrium upon thy purer nature, which only his infamy deserves? Yet it may be said that thou too art infamous! No, not so; thou art wretched but not infamous. It was not a fault to believe as thou hast believed; it was a misfortune. That innocence which should have been thy protec

A sketch from the Miscellany MS. tion, is nevertheless thy apology. You

of Mr. Charlton.

saw the tears trickle down from eyes, while those eyes beamed rapture upon you; you heard a voice silvery and sweet, which formed itself to your situ ation, declared its passions, and pledged its unalterable truth. Could you doubt it? No: that heart which ne ver deceived, that heart which had so often throbbed with sympathetic emnoKk

The tempest of a dark December night had for some time vented its fury, when a wretched woman, drenched by the rain, dishevelled, and in tattered garments, sunk on the ground as she journeyed over the heath. She had wandered from her home-home!

tions at the bare recital of "past tales
of sorrow," could not suspect decep-
tion in another, when its feet is laid
in supplication, promises, and vows.
Who then, Emma, brands you infa-
mous?"What voice of sorrow breaks
upon my ear, giving to the night's
loud gust a wilder and more appalling
accent?" inquired a horseman, as he
cautiously approached the spot where
the wretched orphan lay. "A being
disgraced; persecuted by the world,
and forsaken by heaven, (she replied.)
Three days have passed since these
famished lips have tasted the coarsest
food; and many a long night since
the roof of hospitality sheltered her
from the 'pitiless storm. I am a wo-
man; I am an orphan!" "Why have
you been persecuted by the world?
Why should you be forsaken by hea-
ven?" "I thought not of the opini-
ons of the one; and I have violated
an ordinance of the other. I loved
too well and was undone !" "Take
thy miserable fate!" interrupted the
horseman, and galloped forward. He
was a moralist. Through the gloomy
severity of the blast, a firm and steady
step was heard to approach. There
was something in its sound presaging
succour; something which conveyed
hope to the heart. A glow of com-
fort flashed upon her frozen cheeks.
A delicious sensation, (like to that
which is experienced when we feel
the congenial sigh breathe upon us,
when it leaves the warm bosom of
friendship) animated her with new
life. She rose with strength and feel-
ings she knew not how to account for;
she hurried to meet him whap-
proached her, and in the next instant
fell senseless into his arms "Child
of affliction!" inquired the stranger,
as he wrapped her shivering form
more tenderly in his mantle, and
watched the returning life in her pallid
face, by the indirect beamings of the
moon, which had arisen: "Child of
affliction why hast thou, on this lone
night, wandered from thy friends and
home ?" "I have none," replied the

discousolate Emma, with convulsed
emotion, while she cast upon him a
look which might have melted a stone,
and endeavoured to relieve herself
from his embrace. It was the first
time since her unhappy seduction,
that she had been cherished by man.
"I am very young (she continued)
but have experienced an age of mis-
ery. Seduced by a heart I believed
to be the oracle of truth and constan-
cy; an orphan; shunned by my for-
mer friends; scoffed at by my undoer ;
unpitied, unprotected, I have wander-
ed alone; the canopy of heaven, at
night, my only covering; the scanty
fruit of the forest, my only sustenance.
I could not love sin sufficient to pur-
sue it for my bread; and who would
administer to the woman dishonoured?
Stranger, the measure of my suffering
is filled. In a few moments all that
will remain of the orphan for the ex-
ercise of thy humanity will be the in-
terment of her corpse, and the inscrip-
tion of her offence, that others may
profit by her misfortunes, and shun
that rock on which she struck and
perished." "Orphan, thou wilt not
die!" replied the strauger, pressing
her cold form firmly in his arms, "I
am childless, and will make thee
mine. The world shall yet respect
and bless the orphan, whose offence is
treated with too much severity, and
whose wants it refuses to supply."
"Whose voice is this," exclaimed the
sinking Emma, "that sends such ti-
dings through my bewildered brain?
who calls me from the grave?"

"One (replied the stranger) who feels it his duty to succour the afflicted; one that never sported with the unhappy, nor promised but to perform." " Angel! minister of heaven :" exclaimed the orphan and sunk her icy forehead upon his bosom. He was a MASON! and the Mason has kept his word. Emma is seen, blooming and beautiful as ever, moving is plenty. Her error has been long since forgotten by all but herself, in con|| sideration of her correct deportment,

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recollect the odium he brought upon himself, by telling his pupils and the

and the exercise of her charities. She
is the almoner of the village. Her
kindness heals the afflicted; her pre-public, that vast bodies of the purest

cepts tame the obdurate. Once a year, when the night winds blow bleak, does Emma hie her to the spot where her preserver found her. He accompanies her. It is the indulgence of a whim in her which he sanctions, more because he believes it to be the exercise of a penance for her crime, than from a fear that without any perpetuation of it, she might again fall its victim. One act originating in extreme sensibility and uncounselled by experience, weaned from her the sympathies of the world. One generous bosom snatched her from destruction, and gave to society again its brightest ornament. Adieu sweet Emma! thy sufferings and thy persecutions are treasured up in every honest heart; and the hour is blest, in which the Mason found thee an orphan on the heath.

From the Boston Palladium.
LOUISIANA MOUNTAIN OF SALT.

In the interesting letter, written by
general Miller, governor of Arkansas,
dated September 2d, 1820, lately pub-
lished, among other important facts is
mentioned an extent of country cover-
ed with pure chrystalized salt, six
inches deep. He adds, all men agree,
both white and Indian, that this arti-
cle is in such abundance, some dis-
tance above where he was, that they
could cut and split off pieces a foot

square.

salt were to be found in different parts of Europe and Asia, and that he fully believed what was related of its existence in our newly purchased territory.

Now, "fair play is a jewel," says the proverb; and it is but right that those who were ridiculed and injured then, should have justice done them now. Abused as president Jefferson was, at that time, he never said a word on the subject, and the reason of his silence will appear in the following extract from one of his letters, as late as 1813, a long time after he had retired from public life.

"The fact (says Mr. Jefferson) was stated by major Stoddert; but I never heard of it till certain writers drew forth the morsel so delicious for the exercise of their wit. I thought it as innocent a tub for the whale as could be given them, and said nothing.

"But if truth is their object, they may now take up the Major's book on Louisiana, lately published, in which (page 403) he vindicates his former assertions, and produces facts, on whom the wits may display all their science, and after demolishing major Stoddert's salt mountain, may solicit an auto da fe to burn you, who believe in the heresy."

From the Haverhill Gazette. BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATION.

Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

The public cannot have forgotten that this subject of the Louisiana Salt The exemplification of this moral Mountains, was the butt of ridicule in is perpetually occurring on the most Mr. Jefferson's administration. The common objects of daily attention. credulity of the philosopher of Monti- The very paper on which I am now cello was the subject of wit and ridi-writing affords an example. A cule in newspapers, and in our most little while ago it s clipped off from fashionable circles. It may be re- an old garment, an useless rag. Betmembered too that one of the profess- ty would have swept it to the door, ors at Cambridge, had the courage to but the industrious rag-man took it up vindicate the idea in his lectures, and and gave it to the paper-maker, who In the public papers; and some may returned to me the former old rag in

a new form, no less pleasing than useful. My gentle friends, in obedience to the great Master, gather up the fragments which remain. The little piece of cloth which falls from your scissors, may be the means of carrying the light of the knowledge of the glory of God to far distant and benighted lands.

God himself loses nothing; and to a contemplative mind it is both instructive and entertaining to observe the many ways which he takes to gather up the fragments. I rose up from the feast, and went out to drink the fresh evening air.

As I passed the gate, old Lazarus, the beggar, was sitting and making a rich repast on the very piece of baked mutton I had left on my plate. His dog stood by, and the bones, &c. of which Lazarus could make nothing, afforded a delicious meal to poor Trim. By the time I returned, a little flock of sparrows occupied the ground where Lazarus had sat with Trim, and picked up the crumbs which had fallen from them. They flew off at my approach; but their place was instantly seized by a number of flies and other insects, all greedily devouring the fragments which remained of the sparrows; and that nothing might be lost, a little laborious ant had got a huge crumb on her shoulders, and tottering under the burden, was carrying it to her nest. A small affair it seemed, indeed, to me, but small as it was, it afforded a full feast to herself and her little family. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise." Lord God Almighty, how manifold are thy works! in the vast range of thy economy, nothing is lost!

From the Franklin Chronicle.

CONTRASTED JOYS.

A real fact. The reverend James Harvey was once riding in a stage coach, with a gay young lady, who expatiated, in a very lively manner, on the pleasures of the theatre. Indeed

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(she said) I enjoy much happiness before I go, in anticipation, and when there, my pleasure is indescribable; and the recollection of the scene affords me much happiness the followlowing day.

Mr. Harvey replied, " and is that all the happiness, madam, the theatre affords you? Is there not one joy beside? Have you forgotten the happiness it will afford you in the hour of death?"

The youth, struck with the scene of eternity, which opened to her imagination, was brought under genuine conviction of sin, and the vanity of fugitive amusement, to participate in the solid pleasures of religion.

From the Montreal Herald.

KINGSTON, FEB. 6.

On Saturday last, two men, residents at Cape Vincent, on the American side, observed, while coming round the southern end of Wolf Island, a strange animal on the ice, about two miles from the shore. They immediately pursued it, and on catching it found that it was a seal. They have

brought it over to this place to exhibit as a curiosity, and multitudes are flocking to view this new inhabitant of our fresh water sea. When first informed of the circumstance we were rather sceptical, and were inclined to think that the animal had in reality been brought from the ocean, and that the story in circulation was a mere hoax. We have, however, the most respectable testimony on the subject, and can no longer doubt the fact of the seal having been found, as described, on the ice in our neighbourhood. We hear, also, on the authority of Indian traders, that seals have heretofore been seen on the borders of our lake, though the circumstance is one of very rare occurrence. Conjecture is busy in devising by what means the animal found its way here, and some persons suppose it must have come up the St. Lawrence under the

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