plated with delight the immenfe countries that he commanded. At this inftant, Tobie came, and threw himfelf at his father's feet; and the old man, embracing him with tendernefs, " Here, my fon," said he, "take this fpade, which has ferved me half a century; may you keep it as long! To refignit myself into your hands, I have prolonged beyond the ordinary term the labour which is painful at my age; I quit to-day our fields, our vineyards, but you are going to replace me."Saying these words, the old man gave Tobie the fpade, and afked his crook in exchange. "Oh! my father," faid the young man, "receive again this faithful dog, who has obeyed me feven years, and for the future will follow and defend you; he will never more usefully ferve me!" At these words the old man could not reftrain a few tears, which gently rolled down his venerable cheeks; he careffed the dog his fun prefented to him; the animal ftruggled in Tobie's arms, and feemed to exprefs by his lamentations his fear of changing his mafter. We all took the road to the valley, where we found all the villagers; and the festival was ended by a rustic ball, when I had the pleasure of feeing Tobie dance with Lina... The following day I returned into the meadow, where I found my two good old friends feated by the fide of one another, entertaining themselves with an account of their youth, but moftly of their children. Lina brought them punctually at the accustomed hour fruits and milk. Tobie was not there; but Lina' threw her eyes on the rock : fhe faw with quick delight the mutual friendship of the old men; it was for her a tender prefage. In fhort, I have fince heard, that the old men enjoyed the happinefs of celebrating the nuptials of Lina and Tobie, and that Lina is now one of the tendereft and happiest wives and mothers. f THE THE WHISTLE. A TRUE STORY. Written by the late Dr. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN to his Nephew. Γ WHEN I was a child of feven years old, my friends, on a holyday, filled my pocket with coppers. went directly to a fhop where they fold toys for children; and being charmed with the found of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but difturbing all the family. My brothers, and fifters, and coufins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind of what good things I might have bought with the reft of the money; and they laughed at me fo much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. This, however, was afterwards of ufe to me, the impreffion continuing on my mind; fo that often, when I was tempted to buy fome unneceffary thing, I faid to myfelf, Don't give too much for the whistle; and fo I faved my money. As I grew up, came into the world, and obferved the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very, many, who gave too much for the whistle. When I faw any one too ambitious of court favours, facrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repofe, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have faid to myself, 7his man gives too much for his whistle. When I saw another fond of popularity, conftantly employing himself in political buftles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect: He pays. indeed, fays I, too much for his whistle. If I knew a mifer, who gave up every kind of comfortable I fortable living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all the efteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the fake of accumulating wealth-Poor man, fays I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle. When I meet with a man of pleasure, facrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal fenfations: Mistaken man, says I, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure: you give too much for your whiftle. If I fee one fond of fine clothes, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prifon : Alas! fays I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whiftic. When I fee a beautiful, fweet-tempered girl, married to an ill-natured brute of a husband: What a pity it is, fays I, that she has paid fo much for a whifile. In fhort, I conceived that great part of the miferies of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whifles. EFFECTS OF THE PRESENT WAR. WHAT has it done? It has overthrown fome, and fhaken all the thrones of Europe. It has given the lie to the conjectures and fpeculations of all the old politicians in Europe. Experienced Generals have been outwitted by novices, and impregnable cities taken by mere dint of force. Two or three millions of men have been killed in attempting to fettle difputes, which they did not understand, and which are, after all, to be determined by four or five men who never faw a gun fired. Sundry very great orators have been convicted of Speaking nonfenfe for four years together. Many Many hundred threatening affertions have vanished in hopeless impotence, and the fame number of professions have been falfified. The greatest plans have been formed without the po er of execution, and the greatest actions have been executed without any plan at all. One eighth of our forces have been employed to keep the enemy in check abroad, and the other feven eighths to keep the people quiet at home. The fupporters of the war refuse their aid unless they are well paid for it, and our volunteers are obliged to be handcuffed. Several very worthy men have been alarmed into places of great trust and emolument. The conftitution has been perfonified in eight or ten men who know not what it means, and who have altered it fo that scarcely any person can know it. Great Generals have become fo expert in the art of retreating, as, in most cafes, to fave themselves! The emoluments of the church are mistaken for religion, and the income of a penfioner is called property. The reformation of abuses is feditious and treasonable, and nothing is wrong which can be proved to be old. Indemnity confifts in furrendering all we have taken, and fecurity is fynonymous with implicit confidence in those who have deceived us. AN ELECTION SONG. POOR JACK PARODIED. [From the True Briton] 1. Go patter 'bout Parfons and Scribes, do ye fee, OLD NICK, Fox, HORNE TOOKE, and the like; A brave British tar at my right hand give me, And I never to traitors will strike: Though the ftorms of Sedition around me may blow, I'll ne'er tack about when I meet with the foe, VOL. I. Avaft, Avaft, do not think me a fhy one fo foft, To fly from a Frenchified pack:. For I know there's a hangman who 's perch'd up aloft II. I heard Mr. THELWALL palaver one day, And many home truths in his ears did I ring, I faid to fome folks, for you fee they grew, fhy, The Oak Tree of England he ne'er fhall unroot, Each day from that ftem fhall come forth a fresh shoot, Avaft, do not think me, &c. ཝཱ༣ D'ye mind me, a Briton fhould be every inch He fhould ftand to his poft, without off'ring to flinch, TO TOOKE in all weathers, all times, ends, and reign, As for heart, he has none, though his bellows he ftrain, Yet he fwears that his objects he ne'er will forego, Though he knows there's a devil that dwells down To provide a hot birth for OLD JACK NEW |