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laid them down-look'd at them and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some time in his hand—then laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle-look'd wistfully at the little arrangementhe had made--and then gave a sigh.

The sinıplicity of his grief drew mimbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting in the post-chaise, I could see and hear over their heads.

-He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the furthest borders of Franconia ; and had got so far on his return home, when his ass died. Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.

It had pleased Heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week lost two of them by the smallpox, and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all; and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Jago, in Spain.

When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopp'd to pay nature her tribute and wept bitterly.

He said Heaven had accepted the conditions, and that he had set out from his cottage, with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey--that it had eat the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.

Every body who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern.--La Fleur offered him money

-the mourner said he did not want it-it was not the value of the ass but the loss of him.- The ass, he said, he was assured, loved him—and upon this, told them a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had separated them from each other three days : during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and they had neither scarce eat or drank till they met.

Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I, at least in the loss of the poor beast ; I'm sure thou hast been a merciful master to him.-Alas! said the mourner, I thought so when he was alive--but now he is dead, I think otherwise. I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him—they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for.--Shame on the world! said I to myself.Did we love each other as this poor soul but lov'd his ass—'twould be something.

JOURNEY.

THE STARLING,

-BESHREW the sombre pencil! said I vauntingly-for I envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with so hard and deadly a colouring. The mind sits terrified at the objects she has maynified herself, and blackened ; reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooks them.'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition—the Bustille is not an evil to be despised--but stript it of its' towers-fill up the fosséunbarricade the doors-call it simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper-and not a man which holds you in it—the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without complaint.

I was interrupted in the hey-day of this soli. loquy with a voice, which I took to be of a child, which complained it could not get out.”- -I looked up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without farther attention.

In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice pver; and looking up, I saw it was a starling hung in a little cage'I can't get out, I can't get out,' said the starling.

I stood looking at the bird : and to every person who came through the passage it ran fluttering to the side towards which they approached it, with the same lamentation of its captivity._' I can't get out,' said the starling—God help thee, said I ; but I will let thee out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage to get the door ; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting itopen, without pulling it to pieces- I took both hands to it.

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it, as if impatient-I fear, poor creature ! said I, I cannot set thee at liberty.—No,' said the starling—I can't get out-- I can't get out,' said the starling.

I vow I never had my affections more tenderly awakened : nor do I remember an incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits, to which my reason had been a bubble, were so suddenly called home. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my systematic reason, ings upon the Bastille ; and I heavily walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down them.

Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still Slavery! said I-still thou art a bitter dranght ! and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.'Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess ! addressing myself to Liberty, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change-no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy sceptre into iron with thee to smile upon him as he eats bis crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. -Gracious Heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last step but one in my ascept.

-Grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion -and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.

JOURNEY

THE CAPTIVE.

Paris. The bird in bis cage pursued me into my room; I sat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.

I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow-creatures born to no inheritante but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract

me

-I took a single captive, and having first shut him np in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.

I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it was which arises from hope deferrd. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western breeze had not once fann'd his blood-he bad seen no sun, no moon, in all that time-nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed throngh his lattice :-his children

-But here my heart began to bleed--and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.

He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed : a little calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notch'd all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there-he had one of those little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeles eye towards the deor, then cast it down shook his head, and went on with his work of

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