One of the officers informed Mourat Bey, that a wretched old man desired to speak with him. "Let him enter," said he. The peasant advanced, with trembling steps, on the rich carpet which covered the hall of the divan, and approached the Bey, who was reposing on a sofa embroidered with silk and gold. The various feelings which oppressed his mind, deprived him of utterance.

Recollecting, at length, the child that had been stolen from him, and the voice of nature getting the better of his fears, he threw himself at his feet, and embracing his knees, he cried out, "You are my child." The Bey raised him up, endeavored to recollect him, and, on a further explanation, finding him to be his father, he seated him by his side, and loaded him with ca

resses.

After the tenderest effusions of the heart, the old man painted to him the deplorable situation in which he had left his mother and his brethren. The prince proposed to him to send for them to Egypt, and to make them partake of his riches and his power, provided they would embrace Mahometanism.

The generous Christian had foreseen this proposal, and, fearing lest the young people might have been dazzled with it, had not suffered one of his children to accompany him. He steadfastly rejected, therefore, this offer of his son, and had even the courage to remonstrate with him on his change of religion.

Mourat Bey, seeing that his father remained inflexible, and that the distress his family was in demanded immediate succor, ordered him a large sum of money, and sent him back into Syria, with a small vessel laden with corn. The happy countryman returned as soon as possible to the plains of Damascus. His arrival banished misery and tears from his rural dwelling, and restored joy, comfort, and happiness.

LESSON THIRTY-FIRST.

The Sound of the Sea.

Thou art sounding on, thou mighty sea,
For ever and the same!

The ancient rocks yet ring to thee,
Whose thunders naught can tame.

Oh! many a glorious voice is gone,
From the rich bowers of earth,
And hushed is many a lovely one
Of mournfulness or mirth.

The Dorian flute that sighed of yore
Along thy wave, is still;

The harp of Judah peals no more
On Zion's awful hill.

And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord
That breathed the mystic tone,

And the songs at Rome's high triumphs poured,
Are with her eagles flown.

And mute the Moorish horn, that rang

O'er stream and mountain free,

And the hymn the leagued Crusaders sang,
Hath died in Galilee.

But thou art swelling on, thou deep,
Through many an olden clime,
Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep
Until the close of time.

Thou liftest up thy solemn voice

To every wind and sky,

And all our earth's green shores rejoice
In that one harmony.

It fills the noontide's calm profound,
The sunset's heaven of gold;

And the still midnight hears the sound,
E'en as when first it rolled.

Let there be silence, deep and strange,
Where sceptred cities rose!

Thou speak'st of one who doth not change—
So may our hearts repose.

LESSON THIRTY-SECOND.

The Dutiful Son; or, Frederick the Great and his Hussar.

In a regiment of hussars, in garrison in Silesia, there was a brave soldier, who was extremely exact in all the duties of his station; but, being turned of seventy years of age, he, on account of his gray hairs and wrinkles, had become, in his general's eyes, a blemish to the company in which he served. The general had long endeavored to persuade him to put himself upon the invalid establishment.

It must be observed, that to be dismissed as an invalid in Prussia, is nearly the same thing as to be condemned to starve, since its pensioners are allowed only three half pence per day for their support. It should also be remembered, that, in that country, soldiers are enlisted for their whole lives; consequently, none are dismissed the service, but such as labor under incurable disorders, or are extremely old. This is sufficient of itself to justify the extreme horror felt by the Prussian soldiery at the idea of being dismissed, however wretched their situation..

The old hussar constantly refused to leave the company; and the more strenuously, as he was a married

man, and his wife was but little younger than himself; and by that means they would have lost the advantage of receiving towards their support a portion of the pay of their son, an honest stripling, who, according to the regulations of the army, served in the same corps, and messed with his parents.

The general, unable to impute the smallest fault to the father, and not daring to dismiss him on his own authority, determined to deprive him of his son, hoping, by this means, either through his grief or poverty, to get rid of him. To this effect, he wrote to the king, that he had in his regiment an excellent young soldier, who was too tall for an hussar, and offered him to his majesty for his regiment of guards, which he said would be a more proper situation for him.

The king accepted the offer, and the young man set out for Potzdam, leaving his parents in an affliction that was the more poignant, as they knew that though the regiment of guards was one of the finest in the kingdom, yet it was that of which every soldier had the greatest dread, since, being always under the eye of the king, it is subject to a stricter discipline, and greater exertions, than any other regiment. When the soldier arrived, the king wished to see him.

Frederick, having slightly examined him, ordered him to put on a suit of the uniform of the guards. When the hussar reentered, in a dress so new, and so much handsomer than that he had before been used to, the king asked him how he liked it. The young man replied, that he should always be pleased with any sort of uniform, if he had but the happiness to please his sovereign, by doing his duty well.

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Very well," said Frederick, "keep these clothes, remain here, do your duty, and I will take care of the rest. Your comrades will tell you what you have to do; but, my good fellow, you must be exact to a minute in your department: to this effect, you must be

furnished with a good watch. Go, therefore, to such a watchmaker, tell him you are in my service, and he will give you a good silver watch, for which he will ask you forty crowns.

"You will want, besides," said the king, "half a dozen of shirts, some stockings, cravats, and pocket handkerchiefs, which will come to about so much. Go and purchase the articles, and be always exact, faithful, and discreet in my service. As to means for your subsistence and sundry expenses, I will allow you ten crowns per month, which will be sufficient to procure all you will want.

The first thought of the young soldier, in the midst of his joy, was directed to his parents. "I have such abundance of money," said he, " and my father and mother are in the greatest necessity! Is there no means of sending them the forty crowns given me for the watch, and of borrowing that sum of some of my fellow-soldiers, on the condition of repaying them at the rate of five crowns per month? What remains

will be quite enough for necessaries."

He could not resist this idea, and, accordingly, he borrowed the forty crowns among several of his fellowsoldiers. He procured the watch, and relieved his parents. But he was yet ignorant that kings know every thing, and that the first law imposed by Frederick on those who served him, was to disclose to him whatever facts they became acquainted with.

The next day, he sent for his new dependant, and said to him, "I gave you money to buy a watch, and you sent it to your parents. You supposed you were doing a noble action, without being conscious that it was a breach of your fidelity to me. It is right and meritorious, to assist one's relations when they are indigent, and particularly when they are infirm or old; to do so, is a most sacred duty. But, at the same time, we should appropriate to such a purpose, only what is our own.