been his friends, always appeared as an intercessor in their behalf.

ALPHONSUS, King of Naples and Sicily, was all goodness and mercy. He had besieged the city of Cajeta, that had insolently rebelled against him; and the city being distressed for want of necessary provisions, put forth all their old men, women, and children, and such as were unserviceable, and shut their gates against them. The king's council advised that they should not be permitted to pass, but should be forced back again into the city; by which means he would speedily become the master of it. The king, pitying the distressed multitude, suffered them to depart; though he knew it would occasion the protraction of the siege. But when he could not take the city, some were so bold as to tell him, that it had been his own in case he had not dealt in this manner. "But (said the king) I value the safety of so many persons at the rate of an hundred Cajetas."

C. JULIUS CESAR was not more famous for his valor in overcoming his enemies, than he was for his clemency, wherein at once he overcame both them and himself. Cornelius Phagita, one of the bloody emissaries of Sylla, in the civil dissension between him and Marius, industriously hunted out Cæsar (as one of the Marian party) from all his lurking holes, at last took him, and was with difficulty persuaded to let him escape at the price of two talents. When the times changed, and it was in his power to be severely revenged of this man, he never did him the least harm, as one that could not be angry with the winds when the tempest was over. L. Domitius, an old and sharp enemy of his, held Corfinium against him with thirty cohorts: there were also with him very many senators, knights of Rome, and the flower and strength of the Pompeian Party. Cæsar besieged the town; and the soldiers talked of surrendering both the town and themselves to Cæsar. Domitius despairing of any mercy, commanded a physician of his to bring him a cup of poison. The physician knowing he would repent it upon the appearance of Cæsar's cle

mency gave him, instead of poison, a soporiferous potion. The town being surrendered, Cæsar called all the more honorable persons to his camp, spoke civilly to them, and, having exhorted them to peaceable and quiet counsels, sent them away in safety, with whatsoever was theirs. When Domitius heard of this, he repented of the poison he supposed he had taken: but being freed of that fear by his physician, he went out unto Cæsar, who gave him his life, liberty, and estate. In the battle of Pharsalia, as he rode to and fro, he cried, "Spare the citizens !" nor were any killed, but such only as continued to make resistance. After the battle he gave leave to every man of his own side to save one of the contrary: and at last, by his edict, gave leave to all whom he had not yet pardoned, to return in peace to Italy, to enjoy their estates, honors, and commands. When he heard of the death of Pompey, which was caused by the villany of others, so far was he from exulting, that he broke out into tears, and prosecuted his murderers with slaughter and blood.

During the retreat of the famous King Alfred, at Athelney, in Somersetshire, after the defeat of his forces by the Danes, the following circumstance happened; which, while it convinces us of the extremities to which that great man was reduced, will give a striking proof of his pious and benevolent disposition. A beggar came to his little castle there, and requested alms; when his queen informed him, "that they had only one small loaf remaining, which was insufficient for themselves and their friends, who were gone abroad in quest of food, though with little hopes of success." The king replied, "Give the poor Christian the one half of the loaf. He that could feed five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes, can certainly make that half of the loaf suffice for more than our necessities." Accordingly the poor man was relieved; and this noble act of charity was soon recompensed by a providential store of fresh provisions, with which his people returned.

LOUIS the Ninth, on his return to France with his

queen and his children, was very near being shipwrecked, some of the planks of the vessel having started, and he was requested to go into another ship, which was in company with that which carried them. He refused to quit his own ship, and exclaimed, "Those that are with me most assuredly are as fond of their lives as I can possibly be of mine. If I quit the ship, they will likewise quit it; and the vessel not being large enough to receive them, they will all perish. I had much rather entrust my life, and those of my wife and children, in the hands of God, than be the occasion of making so many of my brave subjects perish."

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, at the battle near Zutphen displayed the most undaunted courage. He had two horses killed under him; and whilst mounting a third, was wounded by a musket-shot out of the trenches which broke the bone of his thigh. He returned, about a mile and a half, on horseback, to the camp; and being faint with the loss of blood, and probably parched with thirst, through the heat of the weather, he called for drink. It was presently brought him; but as he was putting the vessel to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who happened to be carried by him at that instant looked up to it with wishful eyes. The gallant and generous Sidney took the bottle from his mouth, just when he was going to drink, and delivered it to the soldier, saying, " Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.

RICHARD CROMWELL, son of Oliver Cromwell, is said to have fallen at the feet of his father, to beg the life of his Sovereign Charles I. In the same spirit of humanity, when Colonel Howard told him, on his father's death, that nothing but vigorous and violent measures could secure the Protectorate to him, and that he should run no risk, as himself would be answerable for the consequences; Richard replied, Every one shall see that I will do nobody any harm:

I have never done any, nor ever will. I shall be much troubled if any one is injured on my account; and in

stead of taking away the life of the least person in the nation for the preservation of my greatness, (which is a burthen to me) I would not have one drop of blood spilt."

An anecdote is told of the late Beau Nash, of Bath. When he was to give in some official accounts, among other articles he charged, "For making one man happy. 107." Being questioned about the meaning of so strange an item, he frankly declared, that happening to overhear a poor man say to his wife, and a large family of children, that 107. would make him happy, he could not avoid trying the experiment. He added, that if they did not choose to acquiesce in his charge, he was ready to refund the money. His employers, struck with such an uncommon instance of good feeling, publicly thanked him for his benevolence, and desired that the sum might be doubled, as a proof of their satisfaction. In the severe winter of 1739, his charity was great, useful, and extensive. He frequently, at that season of calamity, entered the houses of the poor whom he thought too proud to beg, and generously relieved them. But of all the instances of Nash's bounty, none does him more real honor than the pains he took in establishing a hospital at Bath. It is with pain we add that, after this, in the evening of his life he stood in want of that charity which he had never refused to any one.

YOUNG LADIES' GARLAND.

AMIABILITY.

"I would not rail at beauty's charming power,
I would but have her aim at something more;
The fairest symmetry of form or face,

From intellect receives its highest grace."

Of all the graces which adorn and dignify the female character, amiability is perhaps the most pre-eminent; the peculiar excellence of this virtue consists in the power of exciting universal love and esteem. It is exercised without effort, and enjoyed without alloy; disVOL. I. 16

cretion and good nature are the material ingredients of this valuable quality.

It was this inestimable grace which induced the wise man, to confer on the woman under its influence, a value whose price is above rubies; and he invested her with this endearing attribute-that she opened her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness. It is this grace that throws an irresistible charm over the natural beauties, and exhibits every moral and intellectual attainment in their most interesting point of view. While many other graces have a specific and limited operation, this is universal; when once it is implanted as a principle in the heart, it never ceases to grow, but is continually yielding the most delectable fruit; every incident, however minute, and every event, however disastrous and mournful, constitutes alike an element in which this grace flourishes in all the luxuriance of eternal health. In the sick chamber, the social circle, and the drawing room, it furnishes from its own ample resources all that is most soothing, attractive, and captivating; ever prompt without officiousness, and deliberate without indifference. It invests its most trifling offices with an unspeakable value to those on whom they are conferred, and bestows the most costly presents with a liberality so pure and genuine, as to silence the most captious, and captivate the most scrupulous.

Of the conduct of others, an amiable female is always charitable. The omission of attentions disturbs her not she is ever ready to suggest a thousand reasons for a supposed injury: and should it be realized she is satisfied with one-she knows she does not deserve it! In the absence of evil she invariably argues good.

Of her own conduct she is scrupulously guarded and rigidly exact. She remembers the language of a modern writer, "that virtue in general is not to feel, but to do-not merely to conceive a purpose, but to carry that purpose into execution-not merely to be overpowered by the impression of a sentiment, but to practice what it loves, and to imitate what it admires ;"