So,' said the Shah, with apparent good humour, instead of punishing the Cup-bearer, I have been his physician, and ordered him the invaluable medicine of the three drops! Bring him again to my presence, and it shall not be my fault, if ever again he has occasion to visit the old man of the mountain!' CHERUBIM SHOOTING. TWO WO Cockneys issued forth on a shooting-party, to some little dis in the morning to their sport. Trudging to their quarters in the dusk of the evening, a large looking bird came sailing round the corner of a barn, at which one of them put up his gun, he fired, and the bird fell ; --but oh horror! what were the surprize and dread of him and his companion, when running in a great hurry to pick up his game, he found a pair of full bright eyes in a round comely face, with a pair of snowwhite wings extended, and fluttering in agonies! away they ran to the house, where the shooter instantly fainted; and, on the earnest enquiry of the host into the cause of their alarm, his fellow sportsman, with a tremulous voice, cried-- Ah! poor creature!-Heaven forgive him! Bat he has had the misforture-I am sure it was unintentional-to shoot a Cherubim!' However, as Boniface and his hostler were not quite satisfied with this account, they took a candle and lanthorn to the spot, and there found the supposed Cherubim, which proved only to be a poor unfortunate OwL! GENEROSITY. PRATT. Generosity! what a source of joy art thou to thyself and others! Thou art the sun of the soul: the clouds of distress flee from before thee; the storms of misery are dispersed; and as thy impartial beam spreads comforts and blessings on every side, thou appearest only to shine the brighter, in proportion to the felicity that is thus benignly extended. Continue then, oh! continue to illume my bosom : let this hand forget its employment, and this heart cease its motion, when it ceases to feel thy amiable energy! WILSON AND MARY. From the "Country Spectator." "Her fancy followed him thro' foaming waves "At what a Sailor suffers: fancy too, "Delusive most where warmest wishes are, "Would oft anticipate his glad return, "And dream of transports she was not to know." COWPER. IF F the following little tale should be thought defective in point of incident, the Reader is informed, that it is not offered to him as the effort of a fertile imagination and that its simplicity arises from the reality of its events. Should it be censured for want of novelty, the charge cannot, perhaps, be obviated, but the inference to be drawn from it, is so much the more just for when Misery roams abroad, why sleeps Benevolence? At a small village, on the coast of Sussex, lived Wilson and Mary; They had been married to each other while they both were young, and found in connubia! life the comforts, which all expect, and few enjoy. He had been brought up to the occupation of a Fisherman; and the profits arising from his employment, together with a small annuity, pur. chased for him by his father, produced an income, which rendered himself and Mary far above the pressure of want, and allowed the indulgence of every wish, which their breasts had learnt to frame. They were richer in their humble lot, than are the aspiring great, and far more blest than those, whom fortune holds up to envy. That elegance of sentiment is necessary to the existence of happiness in ourselves, or to our perception of it in others, is the dream of lettered pride, or frivolous refinement. Wilson and Mary were regraded by the cottagers, as the happiest couple in the village: and those who remember them, still recount instances of their mutual tenderness. As soon as the tide came in, Mary with her children would be the first on the beach to welcome the return of Wilson's boat, and to solace with her smiles the labours he had endured for herself and her little ones. When he had been successful, she would draw his attention to the children; and when he had buffetted the billows in vain, she would impute his failure to the roughness of the sea, which on the morrow would be calm. When France had engaged to assist the Colonies in establishing their independence, Wilson felt a desire to exchange the inglorious life of a fisherman, for the more honourable duties of a British seaman. He was influenced, partly, by prejudices against the French, which among our sea-faring people are hereditary; and, partly by the lure of prize-money, which suggested to him the hope of enriching his family by some fortunate atchievement. When he mentioned his project to Mary, she burst into a flood of tears, and then, for the first time, doubted his attachment to her; she reproached him with cruelty in wishing to desert a wife and family, whose welfare depended wholly upon his safety: the hope of prize-money she treated as the suggestion of avarice and discontent: 'so long as you live,' said Mary, I am rich and happy; but if you are determined to leave me, something within me says, we shall never meet agáin.' Wilson moved by the persuasive eloquence of female tears, desisted from his purpose, and resolved to pursue his ordinary occupation. He continued to enjoy domestic comfort; and his boat, towards the end of the ensuing season, had been more successful than any on the coast. One evening, however, when the fishermen had long been expected, the tide was observed to retreat, and not a single boat had arrived. The sea was calm, and the wind was favourable to their return. The fears of Mary were soon awakened for the safety of her husband, and at length, every countenance throughout the Village was marked with anxiety and terror. When two hours had elapsed from the beginning of the ebb, some of the fishermen arrived with the intelligence, that as they were returning home, they discovered, between themselves and the land, a frigate, who had laid too several trading vessels, in order to press their men; that, to avoid her, they were obliged to put further to sea, and to make a large circuit, before they could steer with safety for the land; that a part of the ship's crew had gone in pursuit of them, and that Wilson, with several others, had been carried on board. At this information, Mary was almost distracted. Not only was her husband torn away from her, but she knew not what had become of him. The conjectures concerning the ship's course, were various and contradictory. She wished immediately to follow Wilson, but could gain no tidings where he might be found. After three days' agonizing suspence, she received a letter from him, dated on board a tender, lying at Chatham. She instantly took the coach, and in two days was admitted into the presence of her husband. The regulating officer, whose feelings had not acquired an increase of sensibility from frequent spectacles of distress, was touched with the tenderness of this interview. Her entreaties however, for Wilson's release, were ineffectual: and after being permitted to converse with him awhile in private, she was ordered to be taken ashore. The imprest men were immediately transferred from the tender to a man of war, which sailed out of the Medway the same afternoon. Mary followed the ship with her eye, till it was no longer visible, and then gave herself up to melancholy and grief. After remaining at Chatham for a day, she summoned resolution to revisit her cottage. But it was not now, as heretofore, the abode of happiness and peace; the fire-side had lost its powers of imparting comfort; and the coming-in of the fishing boats served only to remind her of Wilson. By degrees, indeed, she recovered her former spirits, and be gan to amuse her imagination with the distant prospect of her husband's return. Some letters from him, in which he pictured to his fancy, speedy conquest and accumulated wealth, contributed to this end; till, at length, she became reconciled to his absence, and regained her accustomed cheerfulness. It was the lot, however, of Wilson to serve in Lord Rodney's squadron, which engaged the Spanish fleet commanded by Langara. The event of that fight is well known to have been honourable to the British arms. But the glory of nations is not to be purchased without the blood of individuals. In that contest were sacrificed the lives of many brave seamen, and anmng others, that of the hunible hero of this narrative. After he had distinguished himself during the heat of the action by sig nal instances of courage and intrepidity, almost the last shot which the enemy fired, severed him in two. His comrades lamented his loss with the sincerity of sailors, and amidst the acclamations of victory, committed thim to the deep. of It was some time before Mary received the fatal intelligence. Her first expressions of grief were wild and frantic; but the nearer prospect penury threw over her countenance the thoughful air of settled dejection. At the decease of her husband, his annuity was, of course, no more; and a few pounds, which were due from his Country for his past services, 'formed almost the whole of the little subsistence, by which she and three children were henceforward to be supported. She immediatelyt ook leave of the cottage, which was no more to be gladdened by the presence of Wilson, and retired to a meaner habitation. Here she endeavoured to obtain a maintenance by employing herself and the children in making nets for the fishermen: but as most of them had families of their own, this expedient afforded her little encouragement. Her misfortunes being known in the neighbourhood, a gentleman, who had formerly been in the Navy, observed that it was a pity three such fine boys should not serve his majesty;' and accordingly sent them to the Marine Society in London; but upon being solicited to procure some means of subsistence for the widow, the replied that, he did not know of any provision made for her by the Government, or that she had any reason to expect it; for that her husband and children were now out of her way, and that she was as free from all incumbrances, as before she was married. To have known better days, will sometimes recommend us to gratuitous relief, but very rarely to employment. Prosperity is not supposed to have prepared the wind for humiliation and dependence; and the obedience of those who have been united to servitude, will always be thought insufficient. Wherever Mary offered herself for service, she was, as is usual, constantly interrogated respecting her last place; and on the recital of her story, as regularly rejected. Sometimes, indeed, the humane would afford her temporary succours; but favours once conferred, are not often repeated, many, however, would coldly remark, that her distress was not peculiar to herself, and that the same provision was made for her, as for the poor in general. Hunger now stared her in the face; yet a sense of shame still forbad her to ask relief of a Parish, in which she had lived with credit and respect. But her distresses did not escape the vigilance of the Overseer of the poor, who gave her to understand that she had no settlement in the Village, as her husband had never been included in the rates. She was born at a seaport town in Kent, seventy miles from her present resi dence; to this place she was ordered to be removed. Having submitted) to the insolence and cruelty of the parish-officers, in the towns through which she passed, and having survived the fatigue of a journey rendered! dangerous by the weakness of her health, she arrived at the place of her destination, and was sent to the work-house. She had there been sup Two of ported near three years, when death put an end to her sorrows, her sons are now in the service of their Country, and inherit their father's/ bravery; perhaps his fute! STORY of GENERAL PUTNAM AND THE WOLF. OON numerous, broke into his sheep-fold, and killed seventy fine sheep and goats, besides wounding many lambs and kids. This havoc was committed by a she wolf, which, with her annuali whelps, had for several years infested the vicinity. The young were commonly destroyed by the vigis. lance of the hunters, but. the old one: was too sagacious to come within reach of gun-shot: upon being closely pursued, she would generally fly to the western woods, and return the next winter with another litter of whelps. This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable nuisance, that Mr. Putnam entered into a combination with five of his neighbours to hunt alternately until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, that, having lost the toes from one foot, by a steel-trap, she made one track shorter than the other. By this vestige, the pursuers recognized, in a light snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having followed her to Connecticut river, and found she had turned back in a direct course towards Pomfret, they immediately returned, and by ten the next morning the blood-hounds had driven her into a den, about three miles distant from the house of Mr. Putnam: the people soon collected with dogs, guns, straw, fire, and sulphur, to attack the common enemy. With this apparatus several unsuccessful efforts were made to force her from the den. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The smoke of blazing straw had no effect. did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with which the cavern was filled, com pel her to quit the retirement. Wearied with such fruitless attempts Nor |