to the relief of the unhappy stranger. He bore him to his house, laid him in his own bed, revived, cherished, comforted, and, for forty days, supplied him freely with all the necessaries and conveniences which his languishing condition could require.

The soldier, thus happily rescued from death, was incessant in the warmest expressions of gratitude to his benefactor, assured him of his interest with the king, and of his power and resolution of obtaining for him from the royal bounty, the noble returns which such extraordinary benevolence had merited. He was now completely recovered, and his kind host supplied him with money, to pursue his journey.

Some time afterwards, he presented himself before the king: he recounted his misfortunes; magnified his services; and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with an eye of envy on the possessions of the man who had preserved his life, was now so abandoned to all sense of gratitude, as to request that the king would bestow upon him the house and lands, where he had been so tenderly and kindly entertained.

Unhappily, Philip, without examination, inconsiderately and precipitately granted his infamous request; and this soldier, now returned to his preserver, repaid his goodness, by driving him from his settlement, and taking immediate possession of all the fruits of his honest industry.

The poor man, stung with this instance of unparalleled ingratitude and insensibility, boldly determined, instead of submitting to his wrongs, to seek relief, and, n a letter addressed to Philip, represented his own, and he soldier's conduct, in a lively and affecting manner. The king was fired with indignation. He ordered that justice should be done without delay; that the possessions should be immediately restored to the man whose charitable offices had been thus horribly repaid; and, having seized this soldier, caused these words to be branded on his forehead-The Ungrateful Guest ;'

a character, infamous in every age, and among all nations, but particularly among the Greeks, who, from the earliest times, were most scrupulously observant of the laws of hospitality.

LESSON EIGHTEENTH.

Contentment.

My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find,
As far exceeds all earthly bliss,
That God or nature has assigned-
Though much I want that most would have,
Still my mind forbids to crave.

Content I live, this is my stay;

I seek no more than may suffice-
I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look, what I lack, my mind supplies.
Lo! thus I triumph like a king,

Content with what my mind doth bring.

Some have too much, yet still they crave;
I little have, yet seek no more-
They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich, with little store-
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I lend; they pine, I live.

LESSON NINETEENTH.

Beauty and Virtue.

Where does beauty chiefly lie,
In the heart, or in the eye?

Which doth yield us greatest pleasure,

of Rome; being fully persuaded that no expense can be more honorable to a prince, than that which is employed in the relief of great men, who are compelled by their poverty to lead a life unworthy of their virtue, and that this is the noblest purpose to which a king can possibly devote his treasures.

The answer of Fabricius was as follows:

"As to my poverty, thou hast, indeed, been rightly informed. My whole estate consists in a house, of but mean appearance, and a little spot of ground, from which, by my own labor, I draw my support.

"But, if any have been persuaded to think, that this poverty makes me less considered in my country, or in any degree unhappy, they are extremely deceived. I have no reason to complain of Fortune; she supplies me with all that nature requires; and, if I am without superfluities, I am also free from the desire of them.

"With these, I confess, I should be more able to succor the necessitous, the only advantage for which the wealthy are to be envied. But, small as my possessions are, I can still contribute something to the support of the state, and the assistance of my friends. With regard to honors, my country places me, poor as I am, upon a level with the richest; for Rome knows no qualifications for great employments, but virtue and ability.

"She intrusts me with the command of her armies, and confides to my care the most important negotiations. My poverty does not lessen the weight and influence of my counsels in the senate. The Roman people honor me for that very poverty which some consider as a disgrace. They know the many opportunities I have had in war to enrich myself, without incurring censure.

They are convinced of my disinterested zeal for their prosperity; and, if I have any thing to complain of in the return they make, it is only the excess of their applause. What value, then, can I set on gold

and silver? What king can add any thing to my fortune? Always attentive to discharge the duties incumbent on me, I have a mind free from self-reproach, and I have an honest fame."

LESSON SIXTEENTH.

So is Life.

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are;
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew;
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood-
Even such is man, whose borrowed light
Is straight called in, and paid to-night.

The winds blow out, the bubble dies;
The spring entombed in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot;
The flight is past-and man forgot.

A soldier in the Macedonian army, had, in many instances, distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of valor, and had received many marks of Philip's favor and approbation. On some occasion, he embarked on board a vessel, which was wrecked by a violent storm, and he himself was cast on the shore, helpless and naked, and scarcely with the appearance of life. A Macedonian, whose lands were contiguous to the sea, came opportunely to be witness of his distress; and, with all humane and charitable tenderness, flew

Outward charms or inward treasure?
Which with firmest links doth bind,
The lustre of the face or mind?

Beauty, at some future day,
Must surely dwindle and decay;
And all its energy and fire,
Ignobly perish and expire;

Low levelled with the humble slave,
Alike must moulder in the grave!

But inborn excellence, secure,

Shall brave the storm, and still endure;
Time's self subduing arm defy,

And live when Nature's self shall die:
Shall stand unhurt amidst the blast,
And longer than the world shall last.

LESSON TWENTIETH.

Noble behavior of Scipio.

Scipio the younger, at twenty-four years of age, was appointed by the Roman republic to the command of the army against the Spaniards. Soon after the conquest of Carthagena, the capital of the empire, his integrity and virtue were put to the following exemplary and ever memorable trial, related by historians, ancient and modern, with universal applause.

Being retired into his camp, some of his officers brought him a young virgin, of such exquisite beauty, that she drew upon her the eyes and admiration of every body. The young conqueror started from his seat with confusion and surprise, and seemed to be robbed of that presence of mind and self possession, so necessary in a general, and for which Scipio was very remarkable. In a few moments, having recovered