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named TALBOT presides, who has a soul the most ferocious that nature ever produced. Felix was taken when arm'd, conducted before the terrible TALBOT, and condemned to die, as five hundred had been before him. OLIVER heard of the fate of Felix. One night he rose, without speaking to his wife, and went to RHEIMS. He waited on the judge TALBOT, threw himself at his feet, and begg’d permission to see and embrace Felix. TALBOT look'd at him, remain'd silent for a moment, and then made a sign for him to sit down. Oliver sat down. About half an hour after, TALBOT pulld out his watch, and said to OLIVER-If thou wouldst see and embrace thy friend alive, make haste; he is on the road; and, if my


goes right, in less than ten minutes he will be hanged. OLIVER rose, transported with fury, and struck the judge a prodigious blow with a club on the back of his neck, that laid him almost dead on the floor, and then ran to the place. Down with the executioner! he cry'd-attack the officers !-He roused the people, already fired with indignation against those shameful executions. The stones flew about, and Felix made his escape. Oliver endeavour'd to retreat; but a soldier of the band had wounded him in the side, without his perceiving it. He gain’d the gate of the city, but cou'd go no further. Some charitable country people put him in a cart, and laid him down at the door of his cottage, the minute before he expired: he had only time to say,

-Wife, come near, and let me embrace thee !—I die, bui felix is saved !

One evening, as we were taking our usual walk, we saw at the door of a cottage, a tall woman, surrounded by four small children. Her dejected, yet resolute aspect, attracted our attention, and our attention excited her's. After a minute's silence, she said to us—Behold these four infants ; I am their mother, but I have now no husband! This intrepid manner of exciting commiseration was well adapted to affect us. We offer'd our contributions, which she accepted with decency. It was on this occasion that we learn'd the history of her husband OLIVER, and his friend FELIX. We have talk'd of her, and I trust that our recommendation has not been useless to her. You here see, my dear brother, that greatness of mind and noble endowments are common to all conditions, and all countries; that some men die obscurely, not for want of abilities, but a proper theatre to display them ; and that two friends may be found in a cottage, or among the IROQUOIS.

You desire, my dear brother, to know what is become of FELIX. Your curiosity is so natural, and the motive of it so laudable, that we were a little scandalised at not having made any inquiry. To repair that fault, we thought at first of M. PAPIN, doctor in theology, and rector of St. MARY's, at BOURBON; but our mother, upon reflection, gave the preference to the sub-delegate auBERT, who is an honest jolly fellow, and who has sent us the following account, on the veracity of which you may rely :

“ The man named Felix is still alive. When he escaped from the hands of justice at Rheims, he took refuge in the forests of the province, with all the intricacies of which he became acquainted while he was a smuggler. He endeavour'd to approach, by degrees, the dwelling of Oliver, of whose fate he was ignorant.

“ In the center of a wood, where you have sometimes walk'd, there is a collier, whose cottage served for an asylum to the smugglers ; it was also the magazine where they deposited their merchandize and their arms. There FELIX retreated, not without danger of falling into the hands of the officers, who followed him by his track. Some of his associates had carry'd thither the news of his being imprison’d at Rheims, so that the collier and his wife, when they saw him return, thought themselves in the hands of justice.

“ I shall now relate what I had from this collier, who died not long since.

“ It was the children, who were rambling about the wood, that saw him first. While he stopp'd to caress the youngest, who was his god-child, the others ran to the cottage, crying-FELIX! FELIX! The father and mother ran out, repeating the same cry of joy; but the wretch was so harass'd with fatigue and hunger, that he had not power to reply, but fell into their arms, almost void of life.


“ The honest collier and his wife gave him what assistance they cou'd. They set before him bread, wine, and some vegetables. He eat, and laid down

to rest.

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“ When he awoke, the first word he pronounc'd was OLIVER !—Children, do you know nothing of OLIVER?—No, they reply'd. He then related what had happen'd at Rheims. He pass'd the next day and night with them. He sigh’d; he repeated the name of Oliver, whom he supposed to be in the prison of Rheims; he wou'd go thither and die with him ; and it was not without difficulty they dissuaded him from that design.

“ In the middle of the second night he took a musket, he put a sabre under his arm, and said to the collier, in a low voice-COLLIER !-Felix!Take thy hatchet and away.—Whither?-What a question !—to OLIVER !—They set off. But just as they got out of the forest, they were surrounded by a party of the militia.

“ I relate what was told me by the collier, though it appears

incredible. These two men, on foot, were able to defend themselves against twenty horsemen. Probably the latter were scatter'd, and they were willing to take their prey alive. Be that as it may, the action was very hot. There were five horses maim'd, and seven of the riders cut down by the hatchet or sabre. The poor collier remain'd dead on the spot, by a shot in the head. FELIX regain'd the forest, and, as he is of an incredible agility, he retreated from one part to another, and,

as he retreated, he charged his musket—he fired, and whistled; these firings and whistling, repeated at different intervals, and in different places, made the horsemen think there was a large gang

of smugglers, and they retired with precipitation.

“ When Felix found they were dispersed, he returned to the field of battle. He took the body of the collier on his shoulders, and went back to the cottage, where the woman and her children were still asleep. He stopp'd at the door, sat himself down with his back against a tree, his face turn's toward the entrance of the hut, and the dead body at his feet.

“ The wife awoke, and found that her husband was gone from her side. She look'd round for FELIX-he too was gone. She arose--she went forth-she saw—she cry'd out—she fell on the earth. The children ran out—they saw—they cry'd—they fell upon their father and their mother. The mother, recall’d to life by the tumultuous distracted cries of her children, pluck'd out her hair by the roots, and tore her face with her nails. Felix remain'd immoveable at the foot of the tree, with his eyes closed, and his face turn’d away, and said, in a faint voice-Kill me. A moment's silence ensued; then again the cries of grief and distraction burst forth, and felix said again-Kill me, children for pity's sake, kill me !

“ Three days and nights they pass’d in this state of desolation. On the fourth morning, Felix said

Woman, take thy sack, put bread into it, and

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