LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD.

THE FAITHFUL FRENCH SERVANT.

A lady of Marseilles, in the earlier period of the revolution, about to emigrate, wished, before her departure, to place a considerable property, in plate, linen, trinkets, wearing apparel, and other articles, in a place of safety. To bury in cellars was become so common, that they were now among the first places searched, on any suspicion of concealed treasures; and to convey the things out of the house, even by small portions at a time, without being discovered, was a thing out of all hope. What then was to be done?

She consulted with an old and faithful servant, who, during a great number of years that he had been in the family, had given such repeated proofs of his fidelity and attachment to it, that she placed unbounded confidence in him. He advised her to pack the things in trunks, and deposit them in a garret, at one end of the house; then to wall up the door into it, and new plaster over the whole room adjoining, so as to leave no traces by which it could be discovered that it had any communication with another apartment.

This advice was followed, and the plan executed without the privacy of any other person than the man who suggested it. He himself walled up the door-way, and plastered over the outer room; and, when all was finished, the lady departed, leaving the care of her house entirely to him.

Shortly after her departure, the servant received a visit from the municipal officer, who came, with a party of his myrmidons, to search the house, as belonging to an emigrant, and suspected of containing a considerable property. They examined every room, every closet, every place in the house, but nothing of any value was to be discovered; some large articles of furniture, which could not conveniently be disposed of, and which it was judged better to leave, in order to save appearances, were the only things to be found.

The officer said that it was impossible the other things could be conveyed away, and threatened the servant with the utmost severity of justice, if he would not confess where

they were concealed. He, however, constantly denied any knowledge of the matter, and said, that, if anything had been concealed, the secret was unknown to him. This did not satisfy the officer; but, finding he could make no impression on the man, he carried him before the com

mune.

Here he was again interrogated, and menaced even with the guillotine, if he did not confess where his mistress's property was concealed; but his resolution still remained unshaken; he steadily adhered to his first assertion, that, if anything was concealed, it was without his knowledge; till, at length, the officers, believing it impossible that, if he really were in possession of the secret, he could retain it with the fear of death before his eyes, were persuaded that he was not in his mistress's confidence, and dismissed him.

They obliged him, however, to quit the house, and a creature of their own was placed in it. Again and again it was searched, but to no purpose; nor was the real truth ever suspected. But when the career of the terrorists was closed by the fall of their leaders, the faithful servant, who beheld their downfall with exultation, as his own triumph, on a representation of his case to the new magistracy, was replaced in his trust in the house of his mistress.

Some little time after, a person came to him one day, who said that he was sent on the part of his mistress; that, as she was unable at present to return, she wished some trunks, which she had left concealed, to be sent to her, as they could now be moved with safety; and she had described to him, he said, the place and manner in which they were concealed, to the end that, if any misfortune had happened to the servant, he might know where to find them.

He then detailed all the particulars relative to their concealment, with so much accuracy, that the servant, seeing him in full possession of the secret, could not doubt of his being really charged with the mission he assumed. He therefore opened the room, and assisted in conveying away the trunks; after which, he was informed by the emissary, that his mistress had given orders, as there was now nothing of consequence left in the house, that it should be shut up, and he must maintain himself as well as he could. This was almost a heartbreaking stroke to the faithful servant; but no appeal could be made against the will of his

mistress, and he took to the trade of a cobbler, which he had learned in his youth, to gain himself a livelihood.

A long time elapsed without anything more being heard of the lady; when, at length, she appeared, and was in the utmost consternation at learning what had passed. She declared that she had never given a commission to any one to demand her property; nor could she conceive how the impostor had arrived at the knowledge necessary for carrying on the fraud he had practised.

The only way in which she could account for the misfortune was, that, thinking there was no necessity in a foreign country to guard her secret inviolably, she might, perhaps, have talked of it indiscreetly before some one who had thought it worth his while to take a journey to Marseilles to possess himself fraudulently of her property. She acknowledged, at the same time, that the fraud was so artfully contrived, that the servant was fully absolved for having been the dupe of it; and the poverty in which he had lived ever since, perfectly exonerated him from the suspicion of having been anything else than a dupe in the affair.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH.

THE BABE.

'Twas on a cliff, whose rocky base
Baffled the briny wave,

Whose cultured heights their verdant store

To many tenants gave,

A mother, led by rustic cares,

Had wander'd with her child;

Unwean'd the babe-yet on the grass
He frolick'd and he smiled.

With what delight the mother glow'd
To mark the infant's joy:
How oft would pause, amidst her toil,
To contemplate her boy.

Yet soon, by other cares estranged,
Her thoughts the child forsook ;
Careless he wanton'd on the ground.
Nor caught his mother's look.

Cropp'd was each flower that caught his eye,
Till, scrambling o'er the green,
He gain'd the cliff's unshelter'd edge,

And, pleased, surveyed the scene.
'Twas now the mother from her toil
Turn'd to survey the child-

The urchin gone, her cheeks were flush'd;
Her wand'ring eye was wild!

She saw him on the cliff's rude brink-
Now careless peeping o'er-

He turn'd, and to his mother smiled,
Then sported as before.

Sunk was her voice, 'twas vain to fly,
'Twas vain the brink to brave;
Oh, nature! it was thine alone
To prompt the means to save!

She tore the kerchief from her breast,
And laid her bosom bare;

He saw delighted-left the brink,
And sought to banquet there.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH.

FRANKLIN'S ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN.

Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten shillings a-day by his labour, and yet goes abroad, or sits idle one half of that day, though he spends but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only expense; he has really spent. or rather thrown away, five shillings besides.

Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the interest, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This amounts to a considerable sum, where a man has good and large credit, and makes good use of it.

Remember that money is of a prolific, generating nature. Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, and so on. Five shillings turned, is six; turned again, it is seven and threepence; and so on, till it becomes an hundred pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces every turning; so that the profits rise quicker and

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quicker. He that kills a breeding animal, destroys all her offspring to the thousandth generation, He that murders a crown, destroys all that it might have produced—even scores of pounds.

Remember that six pounds a-year is but a groat a-day. For this little sum (which may be daily wasted either in time or expense, unperceived), a man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant possession and use of a hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great advantage.

Remember this saying, "The good paymaster is lord of another man's purse." He that is known to pay punctually, and exactly to the time he promises, may, at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the world, than punctuality and justice in all his dealings: therefore, never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's purse for ever.

The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit, are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer: but if he sees you at a billiardtable, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money the next day; demands it before he can receive it in a lump. It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe; it makes you appear a careful, as well as an honest man, and that still increases your credit

Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account, for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have this good effect; you will discover how wonderfully small trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern what might have been, and may for the future be, saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience.

In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, industry and frugality; that is, waste neither time nor money,