growth, and the number of blossoms that covered them, he said, My dear children, I give you these trees; you see they are in good condition. They will thrive as much by your care, as they will decline by your negligence; and their fruit will reward you in proportion to your labour.'

2. The younger, named Edmund, was industrious and attentive. He busied himself in clearing his tree of insects that would hurt it; and he propped up his stem to prevent its taking a wrong bent. He loosened the earth about it, that the warmth of the sun, and the moisture of the dews, might cherish the roots. His mother had not tended him more carefully in his infancy, than he tended his young appletree.

3. His brother Moses did not imitate his example. He spent a great deal of time on a mount that was near, throwing stones at the passengers in the road. He went among all the little dirty country boys in the neighbourhood to box with them; so that he was often seen with broken shins and black eyes, from the kicks and blows he received in his quarrels. In short, he neglected his tree so far, that he never thought of it, till one day in autumn, he, by chance, saw Edmund's tree so full of apples, streaked with purple and gold, that, had it not been for the props which supported its branches, the weight of its fruit must have bent it to the ground.

4. Struck with the sight of so fine a tree, he hastened to his own, hoping to find as large a crop upon it; but, to his great surprise, he saw scarcely any thing except branches covered with moss, and a few yellow withered leaves. Full of passion and jealously, he ran to his father and said, 'Father, what sort of a tree is that which you have given me? It is as dry as a broomstick; and I shall not have ten apples on it. My brother, you have used better: bid him, at least, share his apples with me.' Share with you!' said his father; so the industrious must lose his labour to feed the idle !

5. Be satisfied with your lot: it is the effect of your negligence; and do not think to accuse me of injustice, when you see your brother's rich crop. Your tree was as fruitful, and in as good order as his; it bore as many blossoms, and grew in the same soil, only it was not fostered with the same care. Edmund has kept his tree clear of hurtful insects but you have suffered them to eat up yours in its blossoms. As I do not choose to let any thing which God has given me, and for which I hold myself accountable to him, go to ruin, I shall take this tree from you, and call it no more by your name. It must pass through your brother's hands before it can recover itself; and from this mo

ment, both it, and the fruit it may bear, are his property. You may, if you will, go into my nursery, and look for another, and rear it to make amends for your fault; but if you neglect it, that too shall be given to your brother, for assisting me in my labour.'

6. Moses felt the justice of his father's sentence, and the wisdom of his design. He therefore went that moment into the nursery, and chose one of the most thriving appletrees he could find. Edmund assisted him with his advice in rearing it; and Moses embraced every occasion of paying attention to it. He was now never out of humour with his comrades, and still less with himself, for he applied cheerfully to work; and in autumn he had the pleasure of seeing his tree fully answer his hopes. Thus he had the double advantage of enriching himself with a splendid crop of fruit; and, at the same time, of subduing the vicious habits he had contracted. His father was so well pleased with this change, that the following year he divided the produce of a small orchard between him and his brother.

Brethren should dwell together in love and harmony. 1. Two brothers, named Chærephon and Chærecrates, hav ing quarrelled with each other, Socrates, their common friend, was solicitous to restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with Chærecrates, he thus accosted him: Is not friendship the sweetest solace in adversity, and the greatest enchantment of the blessings of prosperity?' Certainly it is,' replied Chærecrates; because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys increased, by sympathetic participation.

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2. Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?' said Socrates. Would you search amongst strangers? They cannot be interested about you. Amongst your rivals? They have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who are much older or younger than yourself? Their feelings and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there not, then, some circumstances favourable, and others essential, to the formation of friendship?"

3. 'Undoubtedly there are,' answered Chærecrates. May we not enumerate,' continued Socrates, amongst the circumstances favourable to friendship, long acquaintance, common connections, similitude of age, and union of interest?' I acknowledge,' said Chærecrates, the powerful influence of these circumstances: but they may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essential to mutual amity.'

4. And what,' said Socrates, are those essentials which

are wanting in Chærephon? He has forfeited my esteem and attachment,' answered Chærecrates. And has he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of mankind?' continued Socrates: Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections?' Far be it from me, cried Chærecrates, to lay so heavy a charge upon him! His conduct to others is, I believe, irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, that he should single me out as the object of his unkindness.' 6 Suppose you have a very valuable horse,' resumed Socrates, 'gentle under the treatment of others, but ungovernable when you attempt to use him; would you not endeavour by all means, to conciliate his affection, and to treat him in the way most likely to render him tractable? Or, if you have a dog highly prized for his fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, who is fond of your shepherds, and playful with them, and yet snarls whenever you come in his way; would you attempt to cure him of this fault by angry looks or words, or by any other marks of resentment? You would surely pursue an opposite course with him.

5. And is not the friendship of a brother of far more worth than the services of a horse, or the attachment of a dog? Why then do you delay to put in practice those means, which may reconcile you to Cherephon?' Acquaint me with those means,' answered Chærecrates, for I am a stranger to them.' 'Answer me a few questions,' said Socrates. 'If you desire that one of your neighbours should invite you to his feast when he offers a sacrifice, what course would you take? I would first invite him to mine.' And how would you induce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are on a journey? I should be forward to do the same good office to him in his absence.'

6. If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice which he may have received against you, how would you then behave towards him?" I should endeavour to convince him by my looks, words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill founded." if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would you reproach him with the injustice he had done you?' No,' answered

Chærecrates;

I would repeat no grievances.'

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· And

7. Go,' said Socrates, and pursue that conduct towards your brother, which you would practise to a neighbour. His friendship is of inestimable worth; and nothing is more lovery in the sight of heaven, than for brothers to dwell together in love and unity.'

G

Omar and Hassan.

1. OMA, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years in honour and prosperity. The favour of three successive califfs had filled his house with riches, and whenever he appeared, the benediction of the people proclaimed his approach.

2. Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the flame is wasting its fuel, and the fragrant flower passing away in its own odours. The vigour of Omar began to fail, the curls of beauty fell from his head, strength departed from his hands, and agility from his feet. He gave back to the califf the keys of trust, and the seals of secrecy; and sought no other pleasure for the remainder of his days, than the converse of the wise, and the gratitude of the poor whom he relieved.

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3. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by visitants, cager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. Calid, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, entered every day early, and retired late; he was beautiful and eloquent; Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. "Tell me,' said Calid, thou to whose voice nations have listened with admiration, and whose wisdota is known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent. The arts by which thou hast gained power, and preserved it, are no longer necessary or useful to thee; impart to me, therefore, the secret of thy conduct, and teach me the plan on which thy wisdom has built thy fame.'

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4. Young man,' said Omar, 'it is of little use to form plans of life. When I took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having considered the various conditions of mankind, in an hour of solitude, I said thus to myself, leaning against a tree, which spread its branches over my head, seventy years are allowed to man; I have yet fifty remaining; ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and ten I will pass in foreign countries.

5. I shall be learned, and, consequently, honoured; every city will shout at my arrival, and every student will solicit my acquaintance. Twenty years thus passed, will store my mind with images, which will be employment for me through the ́rest of my life in combining and comparing. I shall revel in vresh accumulations of intellectual wealth. I shall find new pleasures for every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself.

6. I will, however, not deviate too far from the beaten

track of common life, but will try what can be found in female conversation. I will marry a wife as beautiful as the Houries, and as wise as Zobida. With her I will live twenty years, within the suburbs of Bagdad, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, and pass my last days in obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the bed of death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution never to depend on the smiles, nor stand exposed to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for public honours, nor disturb my quiet with affairs of state. Such was my scheme of life in my younger days.

7. The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no visible impediments without, nor suffered any ungovernable passions within. I regarded knowledge as my highest honour, and most engaging pleasure: yet day stole on day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them.

years,

8. I now postponed my purpose of travelling; for why should I go abroad, while so much remained to be learned at home? I therefore immured myself at home for four and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my knowledge reached even the judges. I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and was commanded to stand at the footstool of the supreme califf. I was heard with attention; I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise fastened on my heart.

9. I still wished to see distant countries, listened with rapture to the relations of travellers, and resolved to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude; but I proposed to travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage.

10. In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time of my travelling was past, and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleasures. But at fifty no man finds a woman beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobida. I inquired and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made me ashamed of gazing upon the fair. I had now nothing left but retirement, and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from public employment.