panion, and scanty is the crust that I can afford thee. Thou hast felt the hand of affliction bruise thee, but thou hast cheerfully borne its stripes; the foot of poverty has crossed thy path, but thou hast still stedfastly and meekly kept on thy humble journey, seeking no new master;" and, breaking silence shortly after, he actually accented, in a low tone of voice, "No, Juba, I will not part with thee, be my fate what it will." The animal here rested his head on his master's knee; never was there a stronger em blem of confidence and dependence, trust, and grateful adherence in return; no, no," added he, and the dog leaped with joy.

66

Examining now with tearful eye the article wrapped in the silk handkerchief, he murmured to himself, "And this, too, is hard to part with; it belonged to my dear boy." His features changed, he passed the palm of his hand over his forehead, which as soon as he dropped it met the lips of his faithful follower, and the tear was wiped off by the pressure of them. Clearing his voice, the man of altered fortunes said, addressing himself to the newly arrived party," Gentlemen, does any one of you wish to purchase an excellent violin ?" No," harshly exclaimed the mate, with a voice which the nightly mist and the damps of many a mid-watch had rendered hoarse and hollow," no, my old gentleman; but if half-a-crown can be of any service to you and your poor messmate there," pointing to the dog, "you are welcome to it with all my soul; order something to warm your old heart, and never be cast down-life's but a rough voyage to us all; but although you do seem now on your beam-ends, another tide, and a prosperous voyage, may get you off yet. Here," holding out the half-crown in one hand, and a glass of grog in the other, "success to you; its hard work, perhaps, now, but you may bring up with a wet sail yet; here's to you, I say," forcing the money on him.

There was a powerful struggle betwixt pride and actual suffering in the acceptor's mind-honest pride, looking back to his former situation, a respectable and reputable life, and the

occupation of a creditable situation in society, on the one hand, and not only the dire personal endurance of want on the other, but the privations and necessities of two who were dearer to him than himself-these had a hard conflict to gain the mastery, but the feelings of a father turned the scale, and, whilst his varying features painted what passed within, he submitted to the humiliation, and accepted the assistance so frankly and so kindly afforded by a worthy son of Neptune. He would have preferred selling something to receiving a donation, because in the first instance he could give a quid pro quo; but then the violin reminded him of one who was dear to him, and who once touched its strings, whilst it recalled to his imagination other and happier days. During the time this mental combat was occupying the interior of the fallen man, honest Jack was enjoying the pleasure of doing a good action, nor would he be contented with merely recruiting the sufferer's purse, he insisted, at the same time, on his tasting his grog; a flush of gratitude, raised more from sensibility than from the stimulus of liquor, offered acceptable thanks, when the man of sorrow rose modestly, saluted the company respectfully, and withdrew.

The eyes of the captain and his passenger were, all this time, fixed upon him; in the latter he created an inde scribable interest-so much so that he could not part with him thus: an honest man brought to distress is a being of as much interest, sympathy, and respect, as a worthless individual, reduced by vice and prodigality, is a mark for contempt, disgust, and abhorrence. The better to enable him to learn something more of the poor man's story, the merchant-passenger followed him out, and recommenced the subject of the violin. "You mentioned," said he, "that you might be prevailed upon to part with your violin, if we could agree as to the price, and I am certain that we shall not differ on that score."

"Yes," replied the pauvre honteux, "I may be obliged to part with it, because my dear children are in want of bread, but it grieves me sorely to

see it go out of the family; my poor boy used to gladden our ears with a tune in more prosperous times, and this is all that I have left to remember him, poor fellow! I am sure that it would afflict him if he knew how we were all now situated, but we shall never meet again."

Here his voice fell below the chord of complaintiveness, to a deeper tone of woe-remembering regret.

"You have lost your son, my worthy sir," responded the merchant, in a sympathizing note: "he has probably fallen in the army, or the navy, or in the merchant service, one of the victims of climate, or the many chances of the elements?" The old man made no reply. "Perhaps," resumed the speaker, "premature decay may have blighted the blossom ere it became a flower; but the rest of your family must console you for his loss, which I think that instrument will only serve to revive, causing a painful sensation; in a word, if you are disposed to part with it, I will give you your own price for it, be that what it may."

My good sir," said the poor man, "this is too generous; it is nothing else but a delicate way of doing a charitable action; such noble conduct becomes you well; but it would be disgraceful for me, as a man of honour and probity, fallen although I be, to put an exorbitant price on the article, with the view of heavily taxing your benevolence. No, sir; if a guinea will suit your convenience, it is all I ask, the violin is your's," handing it to him with a sigh,

They had now walked on together some distance, without considering if they were travelling the same road; but the fact was that the old man was steering homeward, whilst the merchant was conducted by an attractive power, the full impulse of which he was at a loss to account for. The instrument had now changed hands, but the companion still remained by the side of its former possessor.

"You have not told me how you lost your son."

"Why, I know not how to answer that question: he may be alive," laying deep stress on the word may,

"but I fear not; he is lost to me; and as his goodness and gratitude so fully repaid me for my affection for him, whilst he was with me, I doubt his present existence, from not having heard of him for so long a period of time. I had a son, do you see, and yet I had not a son; the boy-" Here feeling interrupted his narrative, and he broke off by concluding with, "but this cannot concern you; I am now, sir, at the door of my wretched dwelling; my inclination would induce me to invite you in, and to give you the welcome which you deserve; but I am ashamed of my abode, and my means hinder me from exercising the offices of hospitality to which my heart and my habits incline me." The merchant listened to this with tearful eye, and, pressing the poor man's hand in his, solicited permission to enter his lowly apartment, assuring him that his friendship and acquaintance should not terminate here. With a look of resignation, which banished pride, he accepted the offer, and they both went in together. On the door being opened, an interesting female, humbly attired, but with every mark of former gentility, sprung forward to embrace her father, but, upon beholding a stranger, drew back and hung down her head, partly from bashfulness, and partly from a wounded feeling at beholding a witness of the dire distress under which herself, her sire, and sister were labouring. A glimmering lamp, on a coarse table, shone just sufficiently to enable her to toil at plainwork for a scanty sustenance, and discovered, in a corner, another female on a bed of sickness; this was her younger sister. The dog now frisked and curvetted about the feet of the eldest, and then flew, with a cry of affection, to the other, licking her hands, and springing on the foot of the bed: it seemed as if the poor animal wept a welcome, and announced coming aid to the indigent family.

"This gentleman," said the father, "has kindly accompanied ine home; he has also," holding up the guinea, "purchased my instrument. I have, moreover, had a little more good luck," alluding to the gift of the halfcrown. "You shall sup to-night,

my beloved children, Heaven be praised!"

The daughter who had quitted her work-table, threw her arms round her father's neck, and hid in his bosom her tears and blushes-the tear of gratitude and the blush of shame; whilst a smile lit up the features of the sick sister, indicative of the anticipation of a little comfort, and announcing a conviction that he, or she, who looks up trustingly to the Supreme, will not be deserted in the end. I will not describe the merchant's sensations at that moment; for O! what a charm there is in goodness! how justly proud, how highly elevated is he whom Providence permits to be his agent in succouring man-the noblest work of the Creator's hands! what an expansion, what a glow does that heart experience, when, by the touch of the charitable hand, the tear is dashed from affliction's cheek, the cold gripe of poverty is snatched from its victim, and the bonds of thraldom, either of slavery or of want, are broken asunder, and cast away by the liberator sent by the Lord! A short silence enabled the actors in this drama of life to recover themselves, when the merchant, (having obtained permission,) flew out and returned with refreshments, and, seating himself by the bedside, unbidden, and without apology, (for these are scenes got up by Nature, in which art hath no share,) drew the table to him, and began to help his new friends; looks were exchanged which spoke volumes of wonder and expression, and of that intelligence of hearts which humanity establishes amongst the sensitive children of men, and which the most trivial acts of courtesy, ay, even a thought, a look, a gesture, or an inclination, willingly partakes of.

The picture of virtuous poverty which the traveller had just contemplated, made too deep an impression on his mind not to confer further benefit on those who formed it; he was rich, a solitary man, unmarried, without home or family, a citizen of the globe, or rather a rich pilgrim seeking an establishment and a place of repose. Liverpool had, as will be seen in the sequel, attractions for him, and claims

on his preference, independent of its being a great emporium of commerce, and a focus to which mercantile men might naturally draw; when, therefore, these first moments of agitation had passed away, he requested to know the name of the old man in whose future welfare he took so lively an interest; in this he was just preventing the wishes of him whom he had served, and who was, at that moment, about to inquire to whom he owed the benefits thus recently bestowed on him.

"Permit me," said the stranger, "to ask your name."

"I was just about to make the same request," quoth the poor man; "mine is

"Heavens!" exclaimed the merchant, with a look that petrified the whole family with surprize. “And is it you? my more than father, my friend, my patron, my best benefac tor!" on which he pressed the old man's hand alternately to his heart and to his lips, and burst into a flood of tears. "Do I see you thus ?" resumed he; "I am your child, Henry; the poor lost foundling, the wretched infant, deserted by his unknown and unnatural parents, and who owes more than his existence to your parental and protective hand; but for you I might have perished, nay worse, might have been brought up in misery, vice, and servitude; but you fostered me, loved me, educated ine-you instilled rectitude into my mind, gave me a situation in life, and provided the means of earning an honourable independence: to you I owe every thing; it was you who fitted me out and sent me to Valparaiso, which I left and afterwards went to China: all that I have is your's, all that I am I owe to you, nor shall you find me ungrateful; I will still be your son; I can now cast anchor; my fortune is made."

It would be useless, ineffective, to describe the delight of the father and the family; the one, the author of so much good; the other, the early companions of the foundling's childish days; they who, compassionating his deserted state, had added the last lustre to benevolence, that which prevents the weighty obli

gation from being felt, and lends pleasure to patronage; they had treated him as if they had been his sisters, and now overwhelmed him with expressions of unaltered affection. A long lapse of time, powerfully acted upon by patient, but painful endurance, had quite altered the outward appearance of him who had been a father to him, and who had fallen from affluence to prostrate adversity, from unmerited and unforeseen events over which he had no controul; and although the lineaments of the daughters might have been recognized by him, yet change of attire, the sickness of the one, and the want of proper aliment of the other, made a material alteration; lastly, the idea that they were no more, or had left Liverpool, never having had any tidings of them, nor any answer to numerous communications on his part sent by private hands. Such conveyances very frequently fail, and when we fall from affluence into indigence, few indeed will seek after us and draw us from obscurity on any account whatever.

The merchant took his leave, retiring to an hotel. On the following day he returned, having previously hired a house for him who had proved to him a father: he filled it with every comfort, and had the family removed in the most respectable manner, and made such provision for them as placed them above want, or even self-denials; after this his thoughts turned on himself, and he fixed his abode in the nearest situation in their neighbourhood which he could find, visiting them daily, and passing a great portion of his time with them; for it was his delight to talk over old times-boyish days and to recall to memory the many acts of fatherly feeling which he had received from the old man; above all, the care which he had taken of his education, the religious principles which he had taught him by precept and practice, and the example of undeviating morality which he had ever placed in himself before his eyes; nor was the subject of the playful moments of childhood passed with the daughters of his benefactor forgotten; their care of him in sick

ness, their solicitude for his welfare, the trouble and exertion bestowed on outfitting him, a ring and a breastpin, given by them at parting, which he preserved like relics and produced on his return, and, finally, the dewdrop of tenderness, shed and reciprocated on mutually accenting the word farewell. And it is in that short word that volumes lie; we know not until we say farewell how dear the parting object is to our soul, and whether friendship, love, pity, or humanity dictates it, its echo seems of another world; we part, perhaps, to meet no more, and then remembrances rush like a torrent upon the brain; regrets, doubts, dreads, and sad forebodings swell the tide of sympathy, until the tear comes to our aid, through which we look a long (at all events an uncertain) adieu to those whose full value was never so duly ascertained. The very removal of the companion of a portion of our life is heavily painful; what then must be the anguish of that bosom whose heart-strings are lacerated when fate, or death, tears from it the only earthly one for whom it seemed to live?

But we are going too far, and must return to Liverpool and to the fortunate foundling. The poor man's transition from sorrow to a life of ease, created a second spring in his existence, the revivifying warmth of which sprung from self-esteem, from the recollection of that glowing charity which was now reflected back upon himself. Time sears and crumbles away our frame more or less gradually and perceptibly; but the heart, like the sun, never grows old till time is no more, and destruction consumes it with the exterior wreck. His eldest daughter, re-established in the outward appearance of good circumstances, grew daily in attractions; whilst the younger one, inore the victim of hunger, sorrow, and anxiety, than of decay or sickness, recovered daily, and grew into good health and good looks together. The family and the adopted son passed delightful days in the society of each other; they formed a small circle of acquaintance, into which the captain of the vessel which brought home the fortu

nate foundling was introduced, and soon became a friend of the party; nor could the good old man forget the true-hearted sailor, who was the first to look with compassion on his downfall, and to offer the first pecuniary relief to his necessities. His lodgings were soon discovered, the small sum was thankfully returned to him, and he was invited as a daily guest either to the family's table, or to that of the rich retired merchant. Nor did his good fortune end here; the captain of the vessel from China, having a deeper interest now at heart than trade or commerce, sent him out to China as first inate, and he returned as captain and joint owner of the vessel.

In the meantime the former captain began to feel that after the stormy passage of youth in quest of an honourable existence, nothing can sweeten the cup of life so effectually as a partner in its cares and pleasures. That partner he sought in the person of the old man's sick daughter, now restored to a perfect state of health, and possessing that well disposed mind which can bear poverty with resignation, and meet prosperity with moderation. The captain calculated that such a wife would do credit to a rich man, without being above the economy which a less brilliant state requires; and he accordingly solicited the hand of her who having once been the object of his commiseration, now was that of his fondest hopes. That hand was cordially given to him, with the full and approving sanction of her fond father.

The heart of Henry, the favoured foundling and adopted brother, was

not quite whole. Pity is close allied to love: Maria had pitied him, and he felt as if she might love him. The thought was dear to him, and it daily increased, until it became the sole end of his wishes. Fond and sweetly attaching are the ties of brotherhood, fabricated by Nature's hand; but when consanguinity throws not a certain reserve over our looks, our thoughts, and our desires, it requires nice discrimination to keep those bounds of separation which divide kindred hearts, warm, sympathizing, and free. The confidence which brotherly love inspires is the twin offspring of a still tenderer and more hopeful connection, so that hearts inseparable in their feelings cling to every possible means of further virtuous union: a few more romantic views, long walks by moonlight, or lit by the declining sunexplanatory discussions on the word friendship, preliminary addresses not rejected, a deeper suffusion of crimson on female cheeks, a trembling hand, and interrupted accenting of " good night," brought brotherhood to its resignation, and substituted the title of husband in its place. The two couple were married the same day, and at the same altar, and formed the closing scene of our history. Never was paternal blessing given more effectively never did two married pairs commence their career with brighter prospects of felicity. Here was, indeed, the triumph of gratitude, that virtue which transcends all others, which is so little felt and practised, but which is so forcibly dictated to us by Him to whom we owe all things.

AN OLD SOLDIER.