our unknown benefactor. He went his way, and I wept for joy.

I then ran through the bushes, that I might get before him. I sat myself down on the side of the road through which he must pass. He came, he saluted me, and said-" My son, hast thou seen any one on these mountains bearing a flagon, a flagon, and a basket of fruit?—No, I have seen no one on these mountains bearing a flagon and a basket of fruit, But, I said, how came you in this desert? You must have surely lost your way! There is no path that leads hither. Alas! my child, he said, yes, I did unluckily lose my way, and if some beneficent deity, or if it were a mortal, the gods bless him; if some beneficent power had not saved me, I should have perished of hunger and thirst on these mountains."-Let me shew thee thy way. Give me thy burden, that I may carry it, and thou wilt more easily follow me. After refusing a long time, he gave me the burden, and I conducted him to the road that leads to his cottage. This, my father, is what makes me still weep with joy. What I did cost me little trouble, yet every time I think on it, the remembrance delights me like the sweet morning air. How happy must he be who has done a great deal of good!

The old man embraced the youth with the sweetest transport of pleasure. Ah! now I shall descend, without regret, to the grave, since I leave behind me in my cottage piety and beneficence.

THE TEMPEST.

MISIS and LAMON kept a herd of heifers on the promontory near where TISERNUs rushes through its reedy bed into the bosom of the deep. A black tempest was gathering in the distant sky! A dreadful silence reign'd among the trees! The affrighted swallow and the halcyon flew dubious here and there. Already had the flocks quitted the mountain in search of shelter. The two shepherds remain'd alone to contemplate the approaching hurricane.

Be

How terrible is this calm! said LAMON. hold the setting sun retire behind those clouds, that rise upon the extremity of the ocean like towering

mountains.

MISIS. This black and boundless sea resembles the eternal right! It is yet tranquil. But to this fatal calm will soon succeed a horrid tempest! A hollow sound already fills the air. Thus, in some sudden calamity, the howlings of agony and terror are heard far off.

LAMON. Behold those mountain-clouds! How they slowly rise above each other. From out the abyss they rise, incessantly, more black and menacing.

MISIS. The noise approaches and grows louder ! Darkness covers the deep! The islands of DIOMEDES are already sunk in obscurity-they no more

appear! The neighbouring pharos is only seen to glimmer amid the horrid gloom. But now the winds begin to roar! They rend the clouds asunder, and drive them furious through the air: they rush against the waves, already white with foam.

LAMON. The tempest roars with all its fury! I like to contemplate its rage! There is I know not what pleasure, mix'd with anxiety, that agitates my breast! Let us remain here. Shou'd we want a retreat, we have but to descend the mountain.

MISIS. LAMON, I will stay with thee. The storm is now over our heads. The waves rush against the foot of the mountain, and the winds whistle through the tops of the trees.

LAMON. The lawless waves dash their foam against the skies! Now, like stupendous rocks, they rise, and now they dreadful rush again into the abyss! The lightning that plows the surface of the billows alone illuminates this scene of horror!

MISIS. O immortal gods! A vessel!-suspended on that wave, like a bird upon the point of a rock. Heavens! it sinks! Where is the vessel! Where are the wretched mariners! Swallow'd up in the gulph of the sea!

LAMON. If my eyes deceive me not, the vessel appears again on that wave. Gods! save, O save the unhappy people! Ah! see, the wave that follows rushes with all its violence against them!Unhappy men! what cou'd you seek, thus to quit your native soil, and trust yourselves to the most faithless of the elements! Did not your country

produce fruits sufficient to appease your hunger? You seek for riches, and you meet a miserable death!

MISIS. In vain shall your parents, wives, and children, bedew the paternal shore with their tears. In vain shall they offer up vows for your safety on the altars of NEPTUNE. Your tombs will remain empty. Your bodies will be devoured by the birds of prey on the sea-shore, or by the monsters of the deep. O gods! grant that I may for ever peacefully inhabit my humble cottage; and that, content with little, my field and flock may all my wants supply!

LAMON. Great gods! May I be punish'd, like these wretched men, if ever my heart murmurs-if ever I desire more than I now enjoy, subsistence and repose.

MISIS. Let us go down. Perhaps the waves may cast some of these wretches on the shore. If they be yet alive, we shall have the consolation to save them. If they be dead, we shall at least appease their manes by giving them a peaceful grave.

They descended to the shore, and there found extended on the sand, a young man, beautiful as the son of MAIA. Unable to recover him, they interred the body on the shore, shedding their tears over it. Among part of the wreck that was scatter'd on the strand, the shepherds found a casket fill'd with gold. What shall we do with this money? said MISIS.

LAMON. Let us keep it; not to be rich ourselves from that the gods preserve us! but to restore it to him that may claim it, or to give it them who want it more than we.

The treasure, useless and unknown to the avarice of men, remain'd a long time in the hands of the two shepherds. They at last employ'd it in building a temple near the grave of the young man. Six columns of white marble, encircled by the ivy, adorn'd its front, and within was placed the statue of the god PAN. Sweet MODERATION! to thee, and to the god PAN, was this temple consecrated.

MIRTILUS AND CHLOE.

EARLY in the morning, MIRTILUS going out of the cottage, found CHLOE, his youngest sister, busy in forming garlands of flowers. The dew glitter'd on the flowers, and, with the dew, was mix'd the tears of the little CHLOE.

MIRTILUS, Dear CHLOE! what will you do with these garlands?—Alas! you weep!

CHLOE. And don't you also weep, dear MIRTILUS? But, alas! who wou'd not weep like us! Did you observe our mother-in what distress she was! Before she left us, how she press'd our hands