in testimony of joy for an event so propitious to the cause of Britain. Mrs. G. A. Hall, who labored under a wasting disease, lay at the point of death. Again Mrs. Heyward refused to obey. Violent anger was excited, and the house was assailed by a mob, with brickbats, and every species of nauseating trash that could offend or annoy. Her resolution remained unshaken; and, while the tumult continued, and shouts and clamor increased indignity, Mrs. Hall expired.

I would mention, to the honor of the town, Major Fraser, that he waited on Mrs. Heyward, and, strongly expressing his regret for the indignities that had been offered her, requested permission to repair the damage done to the house; but she resolutely refused, assuring him that, though sensible of his attention, and thankful for it, the efforts of the ruling authorities to obliterate the recollection of insults which they ought to have prevented, could not avail: she could forgive, but never forget them.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST

Mrs. Richard Shubrick.

Here was, indeed, a heroine to be proud of. Her eyes sparkled with feeling and vivacity, while her countenance so plainly bespoke her kindness and benevolence, that sorrow and misfortune instinctively sought shelter under her protection. There was an appearance of personal debility about her, that rendered her peculiarly interesting; it seemed to solicit the interest of every heart, and the man would have felt himself degraded, who would not have put his life at hazard to serve her. Yet, when firmness of character was requisite, when fortitude was called for, to repel the encroachments of aggression, there was not a more intrepid being in existence. I will present a noble instance of it.

An American soldier, flying from a party of the enemy, sought her protection, and was promised it. The British, pressing close upon him, insisted that he should be delivered up, threatening immediate and universal destruction, in case of refusal. The ladies, her friends and companions, who were in the house with her, shrunk from the contest, and were silent; but, undaunted by their threats, this intrepid lady placed herself before the chamber into which the unfortunate fugitive had been conducted, and resolutely said, "To men of honor, the chamber of a lady should be as sacred as the sanctuary! I will defend the passage to it, though I perish. You may succeed, and enter it, but it shall be over my corpse. "If mus

kets were only placed in the hands of few such women, ," said the officer, "our only safety would be found in retreat. Your intrepidity, madam, gives you security; from me you shall meet no further annoyance."

Not is this the only instance of her unconquerable fortitude. At Brabant, the seat of the respectable and patriotic Bishop Smith, a sergeant of Tarleton's dragoons, eager for the acquisition of plunder, followed the overseer, a man advanced in years, into the apartment where the ladies of the family were assembled, and, on his refusal to discover the spot in which the plate was concealed, struck him with violence, inflicting a severe sabre wound across the shoulders. Aroused by the infamy of the act, Mrs. Shubrick, starting from her seat, and placing herself between the ruffian and his victim, resolutely said, "Place yourself behind me, Murdoch, the interposition of my body shall give you protection, or I will die:" then, addressing herself to the serjeant, exclaimed, "O what a degradation of manhood! what departure from that gallantry which was once the characteristic of British soldiers! Human nature is degraded by your barbarity;-but should you persist, then strike at me, for, till I die, no further injury shall be done to him."

The sergeant, unable to resist such commanding eloquence, retired. The hope, however, of attaining the object in view, very speedily subjected the unfortunate Murdoch to new persecution. He was tied up under the very tree where the plate was buried, and threatened with immediate execution, unless he would make the discovery required. But, although well acquainted with the unrelenting severity of his enemy, and earnestly solicited by his wife to save his life by a speedy confession of the place of deposit, he persisted, resolutely, that a sacred trust was not to be betrayed, and actually succeeded in preserving it. When complimented, at an after period, on his heroic firmness, he asserted, that he was strengthened in his resolution by the recollection that a part of the plate belonged to the church; and that he should have considered it as sacrilege, had he suffered it, through a weakness of disposition, to fall into the hands of robbers.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND.

Disinterested Poverty.

In the hard frost of 1740, the benevolent Dúke of Montague went out one morning in disguise, as was his favorite practice, in order to distribute his bounty to his afflicted fellow creatures. He descended into one of those subterraneous dwellings, of which there are many in London, and, accosting an old woman, inquired, how she lived in these hard times, and if she needed charity.

"No," she replied; "I thank God I am not in want; but, if you have any thing to bestow, there is a poor creature in the next room almost starving.' The duke visited this poor object, made her a donation, and then inquired of the old woman, if any more of her neighbors were in want.

"I

She said her left hand neighbor was very poor and very honest. "Sure," replied the duke, "you are very generous, and disinterested; pray, if it is no offence, let me know your own circumstances." owe nothing," said the good woman, "and am wortn thirty shillings." "Well, but I suppose a little addition would be acceptable?" "Yes, certainly, but I think it wrong to take what others want so much more than I do."

The duke took out five guineas, and desired her acceptance of them. The poor creature was quite overcome by this mark of generosity, and, when able to express herself, exclaimed, "Oh, sir, you are not a man, but an angel!"

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THIRD.

The Aged Heathen.

My locks are white-yes, even now
The snow of time is on my brow;

Fair youth no more shall light or warm,
With blooming glow, this wasted form.
Short is the path that I shall tread,
Ere life and joy to me are dead.
Well may I weep at such a doom,
And trample o'er the opening tomb-
Yon dark descent shall lead me- -where?
To know might lessen my despair.
Oh, that the grave could speak, and tell
Its awful mysteries, which dwell
Amid such darkness, that no light

From Hope's fair lamp can break the night'
All that I know, is what I mourn—

That those who go, shall not return

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}SSON ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOURTH.

Trial of Gratitude.

Ah-ibu-Abbas, a favorite of the Caliph Mamoun, relates a story that happened to himself. "I was,' says he, one evening with the caliph, when a man, bound hand and foot, was brought in. Mamoun ordered me to keep a watchful eye over the prisoner, and to bring him the next day. The caliph seemed greatly irritated, and the fear of exposing myself to his resentment, induced me to confine the prisoner in my haram. I asked him of what country he was; he said Damascus, and that his habitation was in the quarter of the great mosque.