flowly, the old man making them ftop from time to time, to take breath, and to contemplate the places we were traverfing, and which brought to his memory the fweet recollection of his youth; he started at hearing from all quarters the clear founds of the bells hung at the neck of the fheep and goats, and which are only used for the flocks of the mountain; he frequently told us of particular objects that we fhould fee; but time had often destroyed or changed what he had reprefented. He regarded all that was offered to our view on the road with a double intereft of fentiment and of curiofity; as we advanced farther on, the expreffion of his countenance became more lively and animated; joy fparkled in his eyes, and he feemed to renew his life, in breathing for the laft time the invigorating and pure air of the mountain. At laft we arrived at the end of our journey: they fet the old man on a rock; he rofe, and, fupporting himself on the fpade which he had not quitted, he contemplated with delight the immenfe countries that he commanded. At this inftant Tobie came, and threw himself at his father's feet; and the old man, embracing him with tendernefs, "Here my fon, (faid he) take this fpade, which has ferved me half a century, may you keep it as long! to refign it myself into your hands, I have prolonged beyond the ordinary term the labour which is painful at my age; I quit today our fields, our vineyards, but you are going to replace me." Saving thefe words, the old man gave Tobie the fpade, and afked his crook in exchange.

66

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 thefe words the old man could not retain a few tears, which gently rolled down his venerable cheeks; he careffed the dog his fon prefented to him; the animal ftruggled in Tobie's arms, and feemed to exprefs by his lamenta

tions his fear of changing his master. We all took the road to the valley, where we found all the villagers, and the feftival was ended by a ruftic 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 themfelves 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, the faw with quick delight the mutual friendfhip of the old men, it was for her a tender prefage. In fhort, I have fince heard, that the old men enjoyed the happiness of celebrating the nuptials of Lina and Tobie, and that Lina is now one of the tendereft and happieft wives and mothers, Chronicle.

WASHING DAY.

THE Mufes are turned goffips; they have loft
The bufkin'd ftep, and clear high founding
phrafe,

Language of Gods-Come then domestic Muse,
In flip-fhod measure loofely prattling on
Of farm or orchard, pleafant curds and cream,
Or drowning flies; or fhoe loft in the mire
By little whimpering boy with rueful face,
Come, Mufe, and fing the dreaded Washing-day.
Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend
With bowed foul, full well ye ken the day
Which week, fmooth fliding after week, brings on
Too foon; for to that day nor peace belongs
Nor comfort; ere the firft grey ftreak of dawn
The red armed Wathers come and chafe repofe,
Nor pleasant fmile nor quaint device of mirth
E'er vifited that day; the very cat

From

From the wet kitchen fcared and reeking hearth,
Vifits the parlour, an unwonted gueft.
The filent breakfast meal is foon dispatch'd
Uninterrupted, fave by anxious looks
Caft at the low'ring fky, if fky fhould lower,
From that laft evil O preferve us Heav'ns,
For thou'd the fkies pour down, adieu to all
Remains of quiet, then expect to hear
Of fad difafters, dirt and gravel ftains
Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once
Snapp'd fhort, and linen by dog horfe thrown down
And all the petty miferies of life.

Saints have been calm while ftretch'd upon the rack
And Montezuma fmil'd on burning coals

But never yet did hufwife notable
Greet with a file a rainy wafhing day.

But grant the welkin fair, require not thou
Who call❜ft thyfelf perchance the mafter there,
Or ftudy fwept, or nicely dufted coat,
Or ufual tendance, afk not, indifcreet,
Thy ftockings mended, tho' the yawning rents
Gape wide as Erebus, nor hope to find
Some fnug recefs impervious, fhould't thou try
The cuftom'd garden walks thine eye fhall rue
The budding fragrance of thy tender fhrubs
Myrtle or rofe, all crush'd beneath the weight
Of course check'd apron, with impatient hand
Twitch'd off when thowr's impend; or croffing lines
Shall mar thy mufings, as the wet cold sheet
Flaps in thy face abrupt-Woe to the friend
Whofe evil ftars have urg'd him forth to claim
On fuch a day the hofpitable rites,
Looks, blank at beft, and ftinted courtesy
Shall he receive; vainly he feeds his hopes
With dinner of roaft chicken, favoury pie,
Or tart or pudding-pudding he nor tart
That day fhall eat; nor, tho' the hufband try,
Mending what can't be help'd, to kindle mirth

From

From cheer deficient, fhall his confort's brow
Clear up propitious; the unlucky gueft
In filence dines, and early flinks away.

I well remember when a child, the awe
This day ftruck into me, for then the maids,

I fcarce knew why, look'd crofs, and drove me from

them;

Nor foft carefs could I obtain, nor hope
Ufual indulgencies; jelly or creams,
Relique of coftly fuppers, and fet by
For me their petted one; or butter'd toaft
When butter was forbid; or thrifking tale
Of ghoft, or witch, or murder-fo I went
And shelter'd me befide the parlour fire,

There my dear Grand-mother" eldest of forms"
Tended the little ones, and watch'd from harm
Anxiously fond, tho' oft or fpectacles
With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins
Drawn from her ravell'd stocking, might have four'd
One lefs indulgent-

At intervals my Mother's voice was heard
Urging difpatch; brifkly the work went on

All hands employ'd to wash, to rinfe, to wring,
To fold, and itarch, and clap, and iron, and plait.
Then would I fit me down and ponder much
Why washings were-Sometimes thro' hollow bowl
Of pipe amus'd we blew, and fent aloft

The floating bubbles, little dreaming then

To fee Mongolfier thy filken ball

Ride buoyant thro' the clouds, fo near approach

The fports of children and the toils of men.

Earth, Air, and Sky, and Ocean, hath its bubbles, And verfe is one of them-this moft of all.

THE

THE WHISTLE.

A TRUE STORY.

Written by the late DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN to his Nephew.

When I was a child of feven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I 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 caine home, and went whiftling all over the houfe, much pleafed 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 rest of the money; and they laughed at me fo much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrine than the whistle gave me pleafure.

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, Í faid to myfelf, don't give too much for the whifile; 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 while.

When I faw any one too ambitious of court favours, facrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have faid to myself, this man gives too much for his whistle.

When I faw another fond of popularity, conftantly employing himself in political buftles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that negle&t: he pays, indeed, fays I, too much for his whistle.