nefactor, who so carefully concealed himself from their researches.

At length, one morning, young Robert met him walking alone, near the sea. He threw himself at his feet, and expressed his thanks in terms of the warmest gratitude. The stranger assured him that he was mistaken, and addressed himself to the wrong person.

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'O, Sir! do you not remember Robert and his unfortunate family, to whom you have given new life by the restoration of their father. O, come! come with me, and witness the felicity you have caused." The stranger persisted in his ignorance of the circumstances to which he alluded, and withdrew from the young man's reiterated solicitations and thanks.

The kind benefactor who had so secretly restored a father to his family, would have remained unknown to this day, had not his steward after his death found among his papers a bill which had been sent to Mr. Main, the banker at Cadiz. Inquiry was made concerning it of Mr. Main, who said that it had been used for the ransom of a Marsellois, named Robert, who was a slave at Tetuan, conformably to the order of Charles de Secondat Baron de Montesquieu, President of the Parliament of Bourdeaux.

It is well known, that the illustrious Montesquieu was very fond of travelling, and that he often visited his sister Madame d'Héricourt, who was married and settled at Marseilles.

These interesting facts, which deserve to be for ever remembered by mankind, are to be found in the Calendar of Anecdotes for 1775, and in the works of Mons. l'Abbé de Monier; and Villemain has written a drama on the story.

SHALL I be pardoned if I say that brute animals are possessed of many virtues? Among others, that they possess gratitude, is strongly proved by the well known story of Androcles, the condemned slave of the Proconsul of Africa, and of the lion who was let loose against him in the circus at Rome, to amuse the Romans by their contest when, instead of flying at him with ferocity, as was expected, the lion crouched at the feet of his antagonist. The man had, it seems, in the desart taken a thorn from the lion's foot, and cured his wound. The noble animal would not destroy his benefactor.

A due sense of benefits, is what properly defines gratitude. In its fullest extent, it implies a return of benefit for benefit: but as an opportunity to confer a benefit does not often occur, a

willingness to be beneficial, is, for the most part, all whereby gratitude can be shewn.

In like manner, ingratitude is frequently negative; but when it grows to injury against those by whom we have been assisted, it assumes the blackest dye, and becomes a vice of great enormity. The lion's gratitude was in this instance negative. He did not injure.

Gratitude is evinced by dogs in active exertion, as the beautiful story introduced by Priscilla Wakefield in the Family Tour, and in a note said to be related in the Monthly Magazine for April, 1802, fully proves. Therein is detailed the circumstance of the loss of a child, whose father searched for it in vain, and at last discovered it by following a dog, who had been observed to go from the house several times, and to carry away part of its food. The dog was traced down the almost perpendicular side of a rock, at the foot of which lay the child, to whom the animal presented the meal from which he had himself abstained.

The attachment of animals, particularly of dogs, to the masters who have reared them, and to the after masters who have fed them, is also proved by instances of every day's occurrence; many of which are recorded.

There is a story of the disappearance of a man,

called Aubry de Mont-Didier, from Paris, as ancient as the time of Charles V. King of France, and of the return of his dog, almost starved to death, after several days' absence. He went to the house of a friend, with whom his master had been very intimate; and howled piteously, as if to make known the loss he had experienced. After being fed, he renewed his cries, went to the door, turned to see if he were followed, returned to his master's friend, and pulled him by the coat toward the door. The singular behaviour of the dog, together with the disappearance of his master, induced the friend to follow him. When they reached a certain tree in the forest of Bondy, he redoubled his cries, and began to scratch the earth. The place was immediately searched, and the body of the unfortunate Aubry de Mont-Didier was found buried at the root of the tree.

Some time afterward the dog met the assassin, whom historians call the Chevalier Macaire; he jumped upon him, and it was with difficulty that he was disengaged from his hold. Every time he met him, he seized him with the same fury. The rage of the dog, who never molested any one but Macaire, on whom he always flew, caused suspicions of the murder to fall on him. Many proofs were recollected of the enmity which Ma