HARLEY saw this with emotion; for he would not wanonly have injured the most contemptible animal that breathes—he rebuked the unfeeling youth in the following erms: and the impression which the lecture made was never after effaced from his mind: "I am deeply concerned," said he, "to observe any one whom I so tenderly love, fond of cruel sport. Do you think that the poor beetle which you are thus agonizing, is incapable of sensation and if you are aware that it feels pain, as well as you, how can you receive amusement from its torture? Animals, it is true, were formed for the use of man; but reason and humanity forbid us to abuse them. Every creature, not immediately noxious to our kind, ought to be cherished, or at least not injured. The heart of sensibility bleeds for misery wherever it is seen. No amusement can be rational, that is founded on another's pain. ~ I know you take delight in bird-nesting; I wish to discourage this pursuit too. Consider how little you gain, and how much distress you occasion to some of the most beautiful and lovely of creation's tribes. You destroy the eggs from which the fond bird hoped to rear an offspring ; or, what is still more cruel, you rob her of her young, when maternal care and affection are at the higliest pitch. Could you possibly conceive what the parent bird must suffer from this deprivation, you would be ashamed of your insensibility. The nightingale, robbed of her tender young, is said to sing most sweetly; but it is the plaintive voice of lacerated nature, not the note of joy. It should be heard as the expression of distress; and if you are the cause of it, you ought to apply it to yourself. "O then, ye friends of love, and love-taught song, If on your bosom innocence can win, Music engage, or piety persuade." Even the meanest insects receive an existence from the author of Being, and why should you abridge their span? They have their little sphere of bliss allotted them; they have purposes which they are destined to fulfil: and when those are accomplished, they die. Thus it is with you! You have, indeed, a more extensive range of action, more various and important duties to discharge, and well it wid be for you, if you discharge them aright. But think not because you have reason and superiority given you, that irrational animals are beneath your regard. In proportion as you enjoy the benefits they are adapted to confer, you should be careful to treat them with tenderness and human ity: it is the only return you can make. Remember every -thing that has life is doomed to suffer and to feel; though its expression of pain may not be capable of being conveyed to your ears. To the most worthless reptile, to the most noxious animal some pity is due. If its life is dangerous to you, it may be destroyed without blame; but let it be done without cruelty. To torture is unmanly-to tyrannize where there can be no resistance is the extreme of baseness. I never knew an amiable person, who did not feel an attachment for animals. A boy who is not fond of his bird, his rabbit, his dog, or his horse, or whatever other creature he takes under his protection, will never have a good heart, and will always be wanting in affection to his own kind. But he, who after admonition, delights in misery, or sports with life, must have a disposition and a heart l should blush to own: he is neither qualified to be happy himself, nor will ever make others so. A Wise Saying. › MAVOR. AGESILAUS, king of Sparta, being asked what things he thought most proper for boys to learn, answered, Those things which they ought to practise when they come to be men. Parental Affection. TO THE PUBLISHERS OF THE CHEAP MAGAZINE. Gentlemen, THE following instance of maternal affection in the brute creation, is extracted from the "Journal of a Voyage for making discoveries towards the North Pole,” and may be of use to some of your readers on account of the moral it inculcates. H -e, Sept. 1813. t HUMANUS. EARLY in the morning, the man at the mast head of the CARCASE, gave notice, that three bears were making their way very fast over the ice, and that they were directing their course towards the ship. They had without question, been invited by the scent of the blubber of the sea-horse, killed a few days before, which the men had set on fire, and which was burning on the ice at the time of their approach. They proved to be a she-bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as the dam. They ran eagerly to the fire, and drew out from the flames part of the flesh of the sea-horse, that remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. The crew from the ship threw great lumps of the flesh of the sea-horse, which they had still left, upon the ice, which the old bear fetched away singly, · laid every lump before her cubs as she brought it, and dividing it, gave each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs, and shot them both dead; and in her retreat they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling minds, to have marked the affectionate concern expressed by this poor beast, in the dying moments of her expiring expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had fetched away, as she had done others before, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them; and when she saw that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, and then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up all this while it was pitiful to hear her moan. When she found she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got at some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing her to entice them away, she returned and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow. her, she returned to them again, and with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round one, and round the other, pawing them, and moaning. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and growled a curse upon the murderers, which they returned with a volley of mus ket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds. Can you admire the maternal affection of the bear, and not feel in your heart the warmest emotions of gratitude, for the stronger and more permanent tenderness, you have so long experienced from your parents? Affection to Parents rewarded. FREDERICK, the late King of PRUSSIA, baving rung his bell one day, and nobody answering, opened the door where his servant was usually in waiting, and found him asleep on a sofa. He was going to awake him, when he perceived: the end of a billet or letter hanging out of his pocket. Having Having the curiosity to know its contents, he took and. read it, and found it was a letter from his mother, thanking him for having sent her a part of his wages to assist her in her distress, and concluding with beseeching God to bless him for his filial attention to her wants. The king returned softly to his room, took a roller of ducats and slid them with the letter into the page's pocket. Returning to his apartment he rung so violently, that the page awoke, opened the door and entered. "You have slept well," said the king. The page made an apology, and, in his embarassment happened to put his hand in his pocket, and felt with astonishment the roller. He drew it out, turned pale, and looking at the king, burst into tears, without being able to speak a word. "What is the matter?" said the king, "What ails you?” "Ah! sire," said the young man, throwing himself at his feet, "Somebody has wished to ruin me. I know not how I came by this money in my pocket." "My friend," said FREDERICK, "GOD often sends us good in our sleep: send the money to your mother; salute her in my name; and assure her that I shall take care of her and you. Parents have a natural claim on their offspring for support; and relieving aged parents, when bodily strength decays, infirmities and wants increase, is not only an act of mercy, but also an act of justice, an imperious duty,-a repaying in kind, what they did for their children in their tender helpless years, and to "withhold from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it," and " shut up our bowels of compassion when we see them in need," argues an extreme hardness of heart. How dwelleth the love of God in such a one?" Can the merci less hope for mercy, who will shew no mercy! 66 R. RUSTICUS |