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As I perceived that all investigation was in vain, and as I was convinced that this child was the victim of some secret intrigue, I now merely endeavoured to obtain information from himself. I called him Theodore, and received him among my pupils. He soon distinguished himself, and so entirely justified my hopes, that after the expiration of three years, bis mind expanded, and he was (if I may use the expression) a second time created, I conversed with him by signs, which in rapidity almost equalled thoughts. One day, as we drove past a court of justice in Paris, he saw a magistrate step from his carriage, and was unusually agitated, I asked the reason, and he gave me to understand that a man like this, clothed in purple and ermine, had often embraced him, and shed tears over him. From this I concluded that he must be the son or near relation of some magistrate, who, from his robes, could only belong to a superior court of justice ; consequently that my pupil's

native place was probably a town of considerable - size. - Another time, as we were walking to

gether, we met the funeral of a nobleman. I in

mediately perceived the former agitation in Theo; dore, which increased as the procession came near

er. At length the hearse passed us-he trembled, and fell upon my neck. I questioned him, and he replied by signs, that a short time before he was conveyed to Paris, he had followed the hearse, in which was the man who had so often caressed him. From this I concluded he was an orphan, and the heir to a large fortune, of which his relations, had been induced to deprive him by his helpless situation. These important discoveries doubled my zeal and resolution. Theodore became daily more interesting to me, and I began to cherish hopes of regaining his property for him. But how to begin my search? He had never heard his father's name; he knew not where he had received existence.--I asked him whether he remembered when he was first brought to Paris.He answered in the affirmative, and assured me he should know the gates through which he entered. The very next morning we went forth to examine them, and when we approached those which are called delo Enfer, he made a sign that he recognised them; that the carriage was there examined, and that his two conductors, whose features still were present to his mind, alighted with him there. These new discoveries proved that he came from the south of France. He added that he was several days on the road and that the horses were changed almost every hour. After making calculations from his several statements, I concluded that his native place was one of the principal towns in the south of France.

After numberless unavailing enquiries by letter, I at last resolved to make a tour through the southern towns with Theodore. The various circumstances, which he so minutely collected, made me hope that he would easily recognize the place of his nativity. The undertaking was certainly difficult, for I thought all expectations of success were idle, unless our journey was performed on foot. I am old, but heaven was pleased to grant me strength. In spite of age and infirmity I left Paris above two months ago. I passed through the gates del En. fer, which Theodore again recognized. When we had left Paris a little way behind us,' we embraced each other, prayed that heaven would guide our steps, and pursued our way with confidence. We have visited almost every place of magnitude, and now my strength was beginning to fail--my consolatory hopes were nearly exhausted, when this morning we arrived before the gates of Toulouse.

We entered the town-Theodore instantly seized my hand, and made a sign that he knew it. We proceeded. At every step his appearance became more animated, and tears fell from his eyes. We arrived at the market-place, when he suddenly threw himself on the earth, and raised his hands towards heaven--then sprung up, and informed me he had now found the place of his birth. Like him, intoxicated with delight, I forgot all the fatigues of my journey. We wandered to other partsof the town, and at length reached this square. He espied the palace. Exactly opposite to your house, uttered a loud shriek, threw himself breath. less into my arms, and pointed out the habitation of his father. I made enquiries, and learnt that this palace formerly belonged to the family of Count Solar, the last branch of which is my pupil,

that all his property is in the possession of a Mr. Darlemont, the guardian and maternal uncle of the young Count, by a false declaration of whose death, he became possessed of it.-I immediately tried to discover who was the niost eminent advocate in Toulouse, that I might entrust him with this important business. You were mentioned to me, sir, and I am come to place in your hands what is dearest to me in the world--the fate of Theodore. Heaven sent him to me that I might educate him. Receive him from my hands, and let your exertions restore to him the rank and for. tune, to which he is entitled by the laws of nature and of France.

To tell you how much it has cost me is impossible-but the exalted idea of being, as it were, a new creator, inspired me with strength and resolution. If the peasant feels delight when he beholds the abundant harvest which rewards his industry : judge what must be my sensations, when I stand

in the midst of my pupils, and see how the unfortunate beings emerge by degrees from darkness how they become animated by the first beam of heavenly light-how they, step by step, discover their powers, impart their ideas to each other, and form around me an interesting family, of which I am the happy father. Yes, there are many more brilliant delights-many more easily attained

but I doubt whether in universal nature there is one more real.

PASSAGES TRANSCRIBEED

FROM
BURN's LETTERS.*

By John Evans, A. M.
THE appellation of a Scottish Bard is by far my

1 highest pride, to continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes and Scot. tish stories are the themes I could wish to sing. I have no dearer aim than to have it in my power, unplagued with the routine of business, for which, heaven knows, I am unfit, enough to make leisurely pilgrimages through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles-to wander on the romantic banks of the rivers and to muse by the stately towers, or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes!

The most placid good-nature and sweetness of disposition, a warm heart gratefully devoted with all its powers to love me, vigorous health and

* It was the opinion of Dr. Robertson, the celebrat. ed historian, that the prose of Burns was still more extraordinary than even his poetry.

sprightly cheerfulness set off to the best advantage' by a more than commonly handsome figure, these, I think, in a woman, may make a good wife, though she should never have read a page, but the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, nor have danced in a brighter assembly than a penny-pay wedding.

I shall transcribe you a few lines I wrote in an hermitage belonging to a gentleman in my Nithsdale neighbourhood. They are almost the only favours the muses have conferred on me in that country.

Thee whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in rustic weed;
Be thou deck'd in silken stole, .. .
'Grave these maxims on thy soul. iki

Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost,
Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour, -
Fear not clouds will ever lour.
Happiness is but a name,
Make content and ease thy aim.
Ambition is a meteor-gleam,
Fame an idle restless drcam'; :
Peace the tender'st flower of spring,
Pleasures insects on the wing!
Those that sip the dew alone,
Make the butter-flies thy own;
Those that would the bloom devour,
Crush the locusts, save the flower,
For the future be prepar'd,
Guard wherever thou canst guard;
But thy utmost duty done,
Welcome what thou canst not shun.
Follies past give thou to air,
Make their consequence thy care;
Kcep the name of Man in mind,
And dishonour not thy kind.

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