men.

counsel for the prosecution said he had one more question to ask the servant maid, which he handed to the prisoner's counsel." If you put this question," said the latter, " I fling up my brief." Every consideration naturally enforced the question-it was, " did you in the night hear a door open ?" The answer was, "I did❞—What door?"-" My master's."-The old gentleman, upon this, begged that he might be permitted to confess his crime, and make the only atonement in his power. What he said was to this effect:-"We were of the same standing, in the same school, and the sons of gentle. Two boys on the foundation, with no other dependence, had robbed an orchard The deceased proposed that we, as being able to bear the obloquy, should father the offence. We did so; and were expelled. The shame of expulsion produced hate towards him who had recommended the act that produced it. Hatred invigorated my limbs-decrepitude yielded to the demand of vengeance ;-in the middle of a sleepless night, I crawled on my hands and knees to his chamber door; with a palpitating heart, listered to his breathing, to be assured he was asleep; and with a razor, he had borrowed of me, I cut his throat from ear to ear.-I then crept back to my chamber with horrible satisfaction."

La Belle Assemblee.

TRUTH. AN INDIAN TALE.

"Truth lies in a well."

[This ingenious tale, which cannot be unacceptable to the reader, is prefixed to a collection of Fables in French.]

As a fakir was taking his walk in a retired spot, the earth seemed to resound beneath his footstep. He stopped. "This place is hollow," he said to himself, " and perhaps incloses a treasure what a happy man would it make me, should I be lucky enough to find it!"

The fakir began removing the ground, and soon observed a sort of vault; but after undergoing so much fatigue, he was

greatly mortified at discovering nothing but the mouth of a well, which had apparently remained there for several ages. Whilst he was surveying it with an air of disappointment, a female form, dripping with wet, shivering with cold, and quite naked, suddenly rose up; and being excessively beautiful, the fakir contemplated the figure with so much delight, that he never once thought of covering her with his cloak.

"O thou who surpassest in beauty the daughters of Brahma," said he, "tell me who thou art, and wherefore thou bathest in a well?"" I am TRUTH," she replied. The fakir instantly grew pale, and fell on his knees, as if a fakir and truth could not possibly exist together.

The virgin being thus at liberty, advanced peaceably towards the city. A woman walking naked is not so great a singularity in India as in other climates less favored by the There passed by her poets, sultanas, and eunuchs.

sun.

"Ah," said the poets, on beholding her, " how thin she is!" "How indiscrete she is!" cried the sultanas. "How sad she appears!" ejaculated the eunuchs. None of them seemed to care about her.

A voluptuous courtier happened also to pass her. He perceived that she had a white skin, and had her placed in his palanquin.

Scarcely was she seated, when the mistress of the emperor appeared, riding on a dromedary, by order of her physician. "How odd it is," cried Truth, "that the favorite sultana should have a crooked nose !"

The courtier trembled at this exclamation, and gave himself up for lost; for there was a law forbidding any one from He cast Truth speaking well or ill of the favorite's nose. into the middle of the highway, saying, "What a fool have I been to trouble myself with this babbler!"

She arrived at the gates of the city, and observing a person of an inferiour order, enquired of him where she might find an asylum for the night. The man conducted her to his home, not doubting but this acquaintance would make his fortune.

The host with whom Truth had taken up her lodging, got his living by writing a gazette; where, each morning, every person in office read his own panegyric. Whenever, therefore, he went to the court, the slaves had orders to fill his pockets with the best remains of the kitchen.

The presence of our traveller very much deranged the affairs of this poor man. He had scarcely time to prepare his gazette. Truth saw him at work without saying a word, and when he had finished, erased every thing that he had written. The publication was two days behind hand.

The vizir, angry at this delay, called for the writer, and after giving him fifty stripes, permitted him to speak in his own justification. He did so with elegance and propriety; so much the worse for the gazetteer, for the visir dismissed him with a hundred more bastinadoes.

This last punishment appeared singular to those who knew not how very just the visir meant to be. He did this, because he wanted the time which the punishment occupied, secretly to remove Truth from the gazetteer's house. Had he thought ninety-nine blows would have been sufficient for his purpose, he had too great a regard for his fellow creatures, to have suffered one more to have been inflicted.

When the visir had gotten sole possession of Truth, he' hoped to make advantage of her enemies; but it being announced that the emperor was coming that very day to visit his palace, and dreading above all lest he should see her, he ordered that, for the publick good, she should be put to death.

Immediately four emirs placed her gently between silk cushions, embroidered and perfumed, and smothered her with every possible precaution. They afterwards threw the dead body into the most unfrequented spot in the garden.

The men in power imagined that Truth was dead, because she had been smothered some time : but this was not the case -the open air revived her, and she availed herself of the darkness of the night to leave the garden.

She took shelter in a vast library, where the Brahmins had stowed up the learning and wisdom of mankind for five thou

sand years. The night being cold, she lit a fire with some straggling leaves, but there was so much inflammable matter in the place, that Truth had but just time to make her escape with a few small volumes.

The library was burnt, and the librarians too. The Emperer came to look at the conflagration, and said with a satirical smile, "It is pleasant enough to see a library in flames." His satisfaction was the more sincere, since there had always been in India, a secret hostility between books and Emperors.

The vizir hastened to outlaw his victim who had thus affected her escape. In the morning the proclamation for that purpose was affixed to the public buildings. This despatch need not be deemed surprising, for, in every chancery in the universe, there are always forms of proscription in readiness against poor Truth.

At day break the unfortunate fugitive found herself beyond the walls of the city, near a neat little house, which was surrounded by a small garden; it was the residence of the sage Pilpay. She entered it without apprehension, declared who she was, and demanded an asylum.

"This frankness pleases me," said the sage, in reply," but it makes me tremble for you. If you should be recognized, nothing can save you follow me." They ascended a large gallery, which formed the upper story of the house.

Here were arranged in order the skins of all animals, the rind of every tree, the coverings of all sorts of beings. It might be seen at once that it was the repository of a fabulist. Pilpay having shewn it to Truth, thus addressed her.

"Since you can neither hide yourself, nor be silent, you had better assume a disguise. I can make you enter, at will, into all the figures you see here, which shall thereupon be instantly animated. You shall speak under these new forms, and you shall, without danger, reproach even the visir himself with his crimes."

Pilpay or Badpay, an Indian philosopher and fabulist, became Minister to Dabschelim, and was in high reputation in the East.

Truth accepted the proposal, and was not ungrateful. The genius of her deliverer, inspired by her, illuminated all Hindostan. He arrived to an extreme age, surrounded by the blessings of the people; for Asia has no balm so powerful to prolong life, as the habit of doing good.

An instance of such high fortune, gave birth to a crowd of imitators, and the ambitious wished to share with philosophers the labors of Pilpay; but Truth, who penetrated their views, continued to conceal herself in the works of the wise, and resigned the rest to the phrensy of their imaginations.

The inventors of fables found themselves thus divided into two very different classes, of whom one wished to instruct with gentleness, and the other to prevail at any rate. It will be rendering a great service to mankind, to teach them by what traits they may distinguish them.

The latter assemble the multitude, and cry out to them from an elevated place, "Slaves of Brahma, believe or perish; for what we are about to deliver to you is the Truth." Then they relate to them extravagant fables, which render the auditors either impostors or madmen.

The former, with a mild voice, and affable countenance, invite the traveller to stop, saying to him, "Friend, if thou art ailve to mirth, laugh a moment with us. What we are going to relate to you is only a fable:" but the gay narrative conveys wholesome truth to the mind, and he who listens becomes better while he is amused.

SELECT SENTENCES.

HAPPY those, who can shun all illiterate, though ever so jovial assemblies, insipid, perhaps, when present,-and, upon reflection, painful. Happy, to meditate on those absent or departed friends, who value, or valued us for those qualities with which they were best acquainted. Happy, to partake of the delights of studious and rational retirement, with one amiable friend. Yet an eminent writer and moralist tells us,