constant watching; another absolutely forbade it. It is thus with the education of man,' said I, closing the volumes in vexation. 'Always in extremes-always for exclusive systems -let us try the medium between these opposite opinions.' I established a good thermometer in my room; and, according to its indications, I put them outside the windows, or took them in: you may guess that fifty vases, to which I gave this exercise three or four times a day, according to the variations of the atmosphere, did not leave me much idle time; and this was the occupation of a professor of philosophy! Ah! well might they have taken his chair from him, and sent him back to school; to school, a thousand times more childish than the youngest of those pupils to whom I hurried over the customary routine of philosophical lessons: my whole mind was fixed on Amelia and my rose-trees.

"The death of the greater number of my elèves, however, soon lightened my labour; more than half of them never struck root. I flung them into the fire: a fourth part of those that remained, after unfolding some little leaves, stopped there. Several assumed a blackish yellow tint, and gave me hope of beautifying; some flourished surprisingly, but only in leaves; others, to my great joy, were covered with buds; but in a few days they always got that little yellow circle which the gardeners call the collar, and which is to them a mortal malady-their stalks twisted-- they drooped and finally fell, one after the other, to the earth-not a single bud remaining on my poor trees. Thus withered my hopes; and the more I hawked them from window to window, the worse they grew. At last, one of them, and but one, promised to reward my trouble-thickly covered with leaves, it formed a handsome bush, from the middle of which sprang out a fine, vigorous branch, crowned with six beautiful buds that got no collar-grew, enlarged, and even discovered, through their calices, a slight rose tint. There were still six long weeks before the new year; and, certainly, four at least, of my precious buds would be blown by that time. Behold me now recom

pensed for all my pains; hope re-entered my heart, and every moment I looked on my beauteous introducer with complacency.

"On the 27th of November, a day which I can never forget, the sun rose in all its brilliance; I thanked Heaven, and hastened to place my rose-tree, and such of its companions as yet survived, on a peristyle in the court. (I have already mentioned that I lodged on the ground floor.) I watered them, and went, as usual, to give my philosophical lecture. I then dined-drank to the health of my rose; and returned to take my station in my window, with a quicker throbbing of the heart.

"Amelia's mother had been slightly indisposed; for eight days she had not left the house, and consequently I had not seen my fair one. On the first morning I had observed the physician going in; uneasy for her, I contrived to cross his way, questioning him, and was comforted. I afterwards learned that the old lady had recovered, and was to make her appearance abroad on this day at a grand gala given by a Baroness, who lived at the end of the street. I was then certain to see Amelia pass by, and eight days of privation had enhanced that thought; I am sure, Madame de Belmont did not look to this party with as much impatience as I did. She was always one of the first: it had scarcely struck five, when I heard the bell of her gate. I took up a book,— there was I at my post, and presently I saw Amelia appear, dazzling with dress and beauty, as she gave her arm to her mother; never yet had the brilliancy of her figure so struck me: this time there was no occasion for her to speak to catch my eyes; they were fixed on her, but hers were bent down; however, she guessed I was there, for she passed slowly to prolong my happiness. I followed her with my gaze, until she entered the house; then only she turned her head for a second; the door was shut, and she disappeared, but remained present to my heart. I could neither close my window, nor cease to look at the Baroness's hotel, as if I could see Amelia through the walls; I remained there till the objects were fading into obscurity-the approach of night, and

"It struck me, that the substance that had fallen from the sheep's collar had the form of a ring-could it possibly be! I looked at it; and, judge of my joy, it was Madame de Belmont's ring, and really very beautiful and costly. A secret presentiment whispered to me that this was a better means of presentation than the rose-tree. I pressed the precious ring to my heart, and to my lips; assured myself that the sheep was really dead; and, leaving him stretched near the devastated rosetrees, I ran into the street, dismissed those who were seeking in vain, and stationed myself at my door to await the return of my neighbours. I saw from a distance the flambeau that preceded them, quickly distinguished their voices, and comprehended by them that Amelia had confessed her misfortune. The mother scolded bitterly; the daughter wept, and said, 'Perhaps it may be found. Oh yes, perhaps,'-replied the mother with irritation, it is too rich a prize to him who finds it; the Emperor gave it to your deceased father on the field when he saved his life; he set more value on it than on all that he possessed besides, and now you have thus flung it away; but the fault is mine for having trusted you with it. For some time back you have seemed quite bewildered.' I heard all this as I followed at some paces behind them; they reached home, and I had the cruelty to prolong, for some moments more, Amelia's mortification. I intended that the treasure should procure me the entrée of their dwelling, and I waited till they had got up stairs. I then had myself announced as the bearer of good news; I was introduced, and respectfully presented the ring to Madame de Belmont ; and how delighted seemed Amelia! and how beautifully she brightened in her joy, not alone that the ring was found, but that I was the finder. She cast herself on her mother's bosom, and turning on me her eyes, humid with tears, though beaming with pleasure, she clasped her hands, exclaiming, Oh, sir, what obligation, what gratitude do we not owe to you!'

6

'youw

To one who

the term gratitude. has conferred on me a great pleasure,' said she. To one who has caused you a serious pain, to the killer of Robin.' "You, sir?-I cannot credit it— why should you do so? you are not so cruel.'

"No, but I am so unfortunate. It was in opening his collar, which I have also brought to you, that your ring fell on the ground-you promised a great recompense to him who should find it. I dare to solicit that recompense; grant me my pardon for Robin's death.'

"And I, sir, I thank you for it,' exclaimed the mother; I never could endure that animal; it took up Amelia's entire time, and wearied me out of all patience with its bleating; if you had not killed it, Heaven knows where it might have carried my diamond. But how did it get entangled in the collar? Amelia, pray explain all this.'

"Amelia's heart was agitated; she was as much grieved that it was 1 who had killed Robin, as that he was dead.

6

Poor Robin,' said she, drying a tear, he was rather too fond of running out; before leaving home I had put on his collar, that he might not be lost-he had always been brought back to me. The ring must have slipped under his collar. I hastily drew on my glove, and never missed it till I was at supper.'

"What good luck it was that he went straight to this gentleman's,' observed the mother.

"Yes-for you,' said Amelia; 'he was cruelly received-was it such a crime, sir, to enter your door?'

"It was night, I replied; 'I could not distinguish the collar, and I learned, when too late, that the animal belonged to you.'

"Thank Heaven, then, you did not know it!' cried the mother, or where would have been my ring?'

"It is necessary at least,' said Amelia, with emotion, that I should learn how my favourite could have so cruelly chagrined you.'

"Oh, Mademoiselle, he had devoured my hope, my happiness, a superb rose-tree about to blow, that I had been long watching, and intended to present-to-to-a person on New

Year's Day.' Amelia smiled, blushed, extended her lovely hand towards me, and murmured All is pardoned.' 'If it had eaten up a rose-tree about to blow,' cried out Madame de Belmont, 'it deserved a thousand deaths. I would give twenty sheep for a rose-tree in blow.' And I am much mistaken,' said Amelia, with the sweetest naïveté, if this very rose-tree was not intended for you. For me! you have lost your senses, child; I have not the honour of knowing the gentleman.' But he knows your fondness for roses; I mentioned it one day before him, the only time I ever met him, at Madame de S.'s. Is it not true, sir, that my unfortunate favourite had eaten up my mother's rose-tree?' I acknowledged it, and I related the course of education of my fifty rose-trees.

6

"Madame de Belmont laughed heartily, and said, she owed me a double obligation.' Mademoiselle Amelia has given me my recompense for the diamond,' said I to her; I claim yours also, madam.' 'Ask, sir,- Permission to pay my respects sometimes to you! Granted,' replied she, gaily; I kissed her hand respectfully, that of her daughter tenderly, and withdrew. But I returned the next day—and every day I was received with a kindness that each visit increased-I was looked on as one of the family. It was I who now gave my arm to Madame de Belmont to conduct her to the evening par

ties, she presented me as her friend, and they were no longer dull to her daughter. New Year's Day arrived. I had gone the evening before to a sheepfold in the vicinity to purchase a lamb similar to that I had killed. I collected from the different hot houses all the flowering rose-trees I could find; the finest of them was for Madame de Belmont; and the roses of the others were wreathed in a garland round the fleecy neck of the lamb. In the evening I went to my neighbours, with my presents. Robin and the rose-tree are restored to life,' said I, in offering my homage, which was received with sensibility and gratefulness. I also like to give you a New Year's gift,' said Madame de Belmont to me, if I but knew what you would best like.' 'What I best like-ah, if I only dared to tell you.' If it should chance now to be my daughter' I fell at her feet, and so did Amelia. 'Well,' said the kind parent, there then are your New Year's gifts ready found; Amelia gives you her heart, and I give you her hand. She took the rose wreath from off the lamb, and twined it round our united hands. And my Amelia," continued the old professor, as he finished his anecdote, passing an arm round his companion as she sat beside him, “ my Amelia is still to my eyes as beautiful, and to my heart as dear, as on the day when our hands were bound together with a chain of flowers."

FROM wealthy Ormus' pearly bed

Let Beauty deck her braided hair, And glittering rays of splendour shed From every gem that nestles there; Reckless of Freedom's sacred call Let Afric bid her children toil, And give to grace yon pageant hall The rifled honours of her soil; But say, can such delights impart

A smile to virtue's chasten'd eye? Ah, no! she turns with aching heart To thee, divine Simplicity!

With thee she loves at break of dawn To climb the hill's aspiring height, With thee to rove th' espangled lawn When gently swells the gale of Night; To seek the soft retiring dell

Where Spring its earliest visit paid,

Where Summer's lingering beauties dwell,
And Autumn courts the sober shade ;
To gather thence the fairest gem
That graces Nature's diadem,
As gladden'd by the kindly shower
She sits enthroned in Flora's bower!

Then, farewell Wealth and Grandeur too!
Ah, what is all your pomp to me
Whilst mine the joys ye never knew-
The joys of loved Simplicity?
Give me to cull with tender hand

The straggling sweets of Nature's reign ; I'll covet not the fairy-wand

Which sways rich Fancy's genii-train !
Give me the gentle heart to share

In all those joys, to Nature true-
The breast those straggling sweefs to wear-
Then, Wealth farewell, and Greur te

rit at Anothing.

ne

THE Sophie sailed from Nantes on the 14th of May 1819, and on the 13th of the same month, was wrecked about 20 leagues to the north of Cape Bojodore. The ship, it seems, was carried out of her course by the currents, which, as is well known, set to the eastward along the African coast, and which M. Cochelet thinks, it is high time were put an end to: doit on pas esperer que les autorités maritimes, prendront enfin des mesures propres a prevenir ces accidens." We fear it will not be easy to prevent such accidents in ships managed like the Meduse frigate, or the brig Sophie. The captain wished first to make Madeira, and then the Canary Islands, for the purpose of correcting his longitude, but missed them both; when abreast of the latter Islands, however, he had a good observation for the latitude, and as no land was in sight, he ought in common prudence to have stood to the westward. On the 29th, they were, by observation, in lat, 27° 4; and on the evening of the same day, land was seen about eight leagues to the east; but still, with inconceivable infatuation, the course was not altered. At length about half past three in the morning of the 30th, the ship struck. The coolness and discipline of the crew are thus narrated:

"The moon set about 40 minutes past three in the morning, and in less than an hour, the sun would have shewn us our situation: the sea, which till then had been smooth, and often calm, began to be agitated by a strong breeze from the north;

all at once a violent shock was felt. The ship struck at the heel, and beat upon the rocks, avec un fracas epouvantable. M. Mexia exclaimed, We are lost.' I sprung from n y cabin. We threw ourselves into each other's arms, and each endeavoured to inspire the other with resignation; but how difficult the task to possess it in so dreadful a situation, when numbers at the same instant behold their end approaching, and expressed by the signs of despair, the abandonment of every earthly affection! I went upon deck, and in the midst of con

sternation and tumult, heard nothing but cries of "take in sail"-"oist out the thought of this frightful event. boat." I asked the terrified captain, what he "What can I think?" he replied; "I know no more than you do where we are. I can see nothing." In the mean time, the ship, impelled by the force of the wind, was driven farther upon the shoal, experiencing, every time she struck, a shock which endangered the masts. A thick fog surrounded us and obscured our view of the land; a feeble the configuration of the clouds, we imagintwilight shewed it indistinctly; and from ed ourselves in a gulph, surrounded on all sides by immense rocks. At length the ship became completely fixed, and experienced no other motion than that produced by the sea beating upon her. In an instant the sails were furled, and we succeeded, by unheard-of efforts, in getting the boat into the sea. An anchor was carried out to the the ship off were in vain; our misfortune north-west, but all our attempts to heave was irreparable, and as the day dawned, the horrors of our situation were revealed to us. It was not in the midst of islands,

as

we believed, that cruel destiny had bounds, presented itself to thrown us. A flat sandy beach, without our view-it was on the main land-on Africa-on that inhospitable and barren coast, that has always been the terror of mariners.

"It would be impossible to paint the grief that took possession of each of us. What fate awaited us on this detested region."

The conduct of the officers under these circumstances, was not less extraordinary. We are not told that any attempt was made to lighten the ship; they suffered themselves to fall into the power of the natives, although the weather continued moderate, and their boat was riding safely by a hawser in the lee of the vessel; the whole crew only consisted of thirteen, and they knew that the Canary islands could not be more than twenty or thirty leagues distant.

After passing to and fro several times between the ship and the shore, the natives got possession of the officers, passengers, and one sailor, in all, six persons. The sailors, with greater prudence, kept on board, and, after a feeble attempt to rescue their superiors,

24 ATHENEUM VOL. 11.