"No, sir," replied the Spanish governor, "if we had taken you in fair war, at sea, or approaching our coast with hostile intentions, your ship would have been a prize, and your people prisoners; but when, distressed by a tempest, you come into our ports for the safety of your lives, we, the enemies, being men, are bound, as such, by the laws of humanity, to afford relief to distressed men who ask it of us. We cannot, even against our enemies, take advantage of an act of God.

"You have leave, therefore," added the governor, "to unload your ship, if that be necessary to stop the leak; you may refit her here, and traffic so far as may be necessary to pay the charges; you may then depart, and I will give you a pass to be in force till you are beyond Bermuda-if, after that, you are taken, you will then be a lawful prize; but now, you are only a stranger, and have a stranger's right to safety and protection." The ship accordingly departed, and arrived safe in London.

A remarkable instance of the like honorable conduct, is recorded of a poor, unenlightened African negro. In the year 1752, a New England sloop, trading to the coast of Guinea, left the second mate, William Murray, sick on shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the house of a black named Cudjoe, with whom he had contracted an acquaintance during their trade. He recovered; and, the sloop being gone, he continued with his black friend till some other opportunity should offer for his getting home.

In the meantime, a Dutch ship came into the road, and some of the blacks coming on board her, were treacherously seized, and carried off as slaves. The relations and friends, transported with sudden rage, ran to the house of Cudjoe, to take revenge, by killing Murray. Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and de

manded what they wanted.

"The white men,'

" said

they, "have carried away our brothers and sons, and we will kill all white men. Give us the white man you have in your house, for we will kill him.”

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Nay," said Cudjoe, "the white men that carried off your relations, are bad men; kill them, when you can take them; but this white man is a good man, and you must not kill him."-" But he is a white man,' they cried; "and the white men are all bad men, we will kill them all." Nay," says he, "you must not kill a man, that has done no harm, only for being white. This man is my friend, my house is his post, I am his soldier, and must fight for him; you must kill me, before you can kill him. What good man will ever come again under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man's blood?"

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND TWELFTH.

The Path of Life.

Oh! I have thought, and thinking sighed―
How like to thee, thou restless tide!
May be the lot, the life of him,
Who roams along thy water's brim!
Through what alternate shades of wo,
And flowers of joy, my path may go!
How many an humble, still retreat
May rise to court my weary feet,
While still pursuing, still unblest,
I wander on, nor dare to rest!
But, urgent as the doom that calls
Thy water to its destined falls,
I see the world's bewildering force
Hurry my heart's devoted course
From lapse to lapse, till life be done,
And the lost current cease to run'

Oh may my falls be bright as thine!
May heaven's forgiving rainbow shine
Upon the mist that circles me,
As soft, as now it hangs o'er thee!

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEENTH.

Patron of the Poor.

A certain cardinal, by the multitude of his generous actions, gave occasion for the world to call him, The Patron of the Poor. This ecclesiastical prince had a constant custom, once a week to give public audience to all indigent people, in the hall of his palace, and to relieve every one, according to their various necessities, or the motions of his own bounty.

One day, a poor widow, encouraged by the fame of his bounty, came into the hall of this cardinal, with her only daughter, a beautiful maid, about fifteen years of age. When her turn came to be heard, among a crowd of petitioners, the cardinal, observing the marks of an extraordinary modesty in her face and carriage, as also in her daughter, encouraged her to tell her wants freely.

She, blushing, and not without tears, thus addressed herself to him: " My lord, I owe, for the rent of my house, five crowns; and, such is my misfortune, that I have no way left to pay it, save what would break my heart, (and my landlord threatens to force me to it,) that is, to disgrace this my only daughter, whom I have hitherto, with great care, educated in the paths of virtue.

What I beg of your eminence is, that you would be pleased to interpose your authority, and protect us from the violence of this cruel man, till, by honest industry, we can procure the money for him." The cardinal, moved with admiration of the woman's virtue

and modest request, bid her be of good courage: then he immediately wrote a billet, "Go," said he, "to my steward, and he shall deliver thee five crowns to pay thy rent."

The widow, overjoyed, and returning the cardinal a thousand thanks, went directly to the steward, and gave him the note. When he had read it, he told out fifty crowns. She, astonished at the meaning of it, and not knowing what the cardinal had wrote, refused to take above five crowns, saying, she mentioned no more to his eminence, and she was sure it was some mistake.

On the other hand, the steward insisted on his master's order, not daring to call it in question. But all the arguments he could use, were insufficient to prevail on her to take any more than five crowns. Wherefore, to end the controversy, he offered to go back with her to the cardinal, and refer it to him.

When they came before that munificent prince, and he was fully informed of the business, "It is true,' said he, "I mistook in writing fifty crowns; give me the paper, and I will rectify it." Upon which he wrote again, saying to the woman, "So much candor and virtue deserves a recompense. Here, I have ordered you five hundred crowns; what you can spare of it, lay up, as a dowry to give with your daughter in marriage.'

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH.

Mental Discipline.

The riches that the mind bestows,
Outshine the purple's proudest dye;
And pale the brightest gold that glows
Beneath the Indian's burning sky.

The mind can dull the deepest smart,
And smooth the bed of suffering,
And midst the winter of the heart,
Can renovate a second spring.

Shall fields be tilled with annual care,
And minds lie fallow ev'ry year?
Oh, since the crop depends on you,
Give them the culture which is due:
Hoe ev'ry weed, and dress the soil,—
So harvest shall repay your toil.
If human minds resemble trees,
(As ev'ry moralist agrees,)

Prune all the stragglers of your vine,
Then shall the purple clusters shine.
The gard'ner knows that fruitful life
Demands his salutary knife;

For ev'ry wild, luxuriant shoot

Or robs the bloom, or starves the fruit.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH.

The Gambler reformed.

In Queen Anne's war, Colonel Daniel was an ensign in the English army then in Spain; but he was so absolutely possessed by this evil, that all duty, and every thing else that prevented his gratifying his darling passion, was to him most grievous. He scarcely allowed himself time for rest; or, if he slept, his dreams presented packs of cards to his eyes, and the rattling of dice to his ears. His meals were neglected; or, if he attended them, he looked upon that as so much lost time; swallowed his meat with precipitance, and hurried to the dear gaming table again.

For some time, fortune was his friend; and he was