made the sign of the cross, he took an armful of wet hay; he then said to those around him: Beg the assistance of the Lord for me," and

duct he had so much reason to complain. Gaspard, thinking only of the loss of his goods, which he esteemed above every thing else, even above his own life, struggled like a mad-suddenly rushed into the burning house, in man in the hands of those who held him, and desired to rush into the midst of the flames, that he might perish with his fortune. "Carry him to my house," cried William; "let my house be his asylum; is his son safe?"

spite of those who endeavored to hold him. In the meanwhile, they led away Gaspard.

The men, women, and children fell upon their knees, and with clasped hands, with their eyes fixed upon the door where they had lost sight of William, and from which at in

began to pray with fervor. A moment after, he appeared, bearing in his arms the fainting Gherald.

With what gratitude did all these good people thank the Almighty for having heard them, and protected so generous a man, so perfect a Christian, who exposed himself to an awful death to save the son of the only enemy he had upon earth.

In the general confusion, no body, not even Gaspard, thought of Gherald. At the ques-tervals issued vast clouds of smoke, every one tion of William, every countenance grew pale; it was a moment of intense anxiety, and during the mournful silence, they distinguished low cries that seemed to issue from a quarter already surrounded by the devouring element. It was the voice of Gherald: dreading the anger of his father, and not supposing that the fire could reach him in a kind of vault in which he lay concealed, he did not perceive the progress of the flames, which he thought would be easily extinguished. But when the heat penetrated his hiding place, seized with fright, he wished to leave it; but a heavy cloud of smoke forced him to enter it again and quickly shut the door.

They gathered around William; they praised him; they rejoiced to see him again. William alone thought of Gherald. "Take care of him; endeavor to revive him, whilst I go to cool myself by bathing my wounds; and make haste to carry him to his unfortunate father, in order to console him."

On again beholding his son, Gaspard experienced a feeling of joy; but soon reflecting that it was Gherald who, remaining alone in the granary, had by some imprudence set it

Seeing himself caught in the midst of a vast furnace, from which it appeared impossible to escape, this impious child turned, for the first time since a long while, his thoughts towards God! O! how did he repent of having so often blasphemed the holy name of his Cre-on fire, Gaspard drove him away with fury, ator; of having been disobedient; of having committed so many sins; and of not having, like his youthful comrades, profited by the pious lessons of the Sunday meetings!

-“O my God!” he exclaimed, “I repent from the bottom of my heart; pardon me; do not let me die so frightful a death." He shouted with all the strength with which despair inspired him: "Help! help! I am in the little vault; I am going to be burned alive if you do not come to save me!"

and it was necessary to remove from him his son, whom some of the neighbors took to their own home. After having several times attempted in vain to calm his guest, William saw that it would be better to give a free course to his first emotions, and content himself with watching him. Thus passed the rest of the day, and in the performance of this pious duty did Sophia, on arriving, find her virtuous husband engaged.

We have said that Margaret had rapidly recounted to her what had occurred in her absence. When she had returned to the shop with this good friend, she called her husband into the room, asked him if he was not hurt,

His cries were indistinctly heard. "Quick," cried William, "throw some water over my body; wet me from head to foot!" at the same time he dipped into one of the buckets of water which they had brought, his hand-gave him the money which she brought, and kerchief, which he placed over his mouth; placed the wooden cross in its accustomed sithe put on his head, a little above his eyes, uation. another wet handkerchief; and, after having

-"Give me," said William, "this money;

had not one cent to pay their creditor, suddenly found themselves in a situation not only to pay him the whole sum in gold, but besides to lend him twice as much.

it will be a balm for the affliction of Gaspard. ceive how these people who, the day before, He is still incapable of turning his thoughts towards heaven; but let us have patience; in the end, we will be the instruments of saving his soul, as I have rescued his son; to-day this unfortunate being thinks only of earthly goods."

-"Well,” said Gaspard, at the same time thumbing the notes, "how does it happen that

1

They returned together to Gaspard, whom you so quickly acquired such a fortune?" Margaret and Thomas had not left. It comes to us," replied William, "from the generosity of a friend and patron whom we have never called upon in vain.”

-"Look, neighbor," said William, "here are your thousand crowns; I am happy to pay them to you at this moment."

At these words, he poured out upon the table the purse full of gold; the jingle of the glittering pieces attracted the attention of the covetous Gaspard as the magnet attracts the steel. Their lustre charmed his eyes; his despair seemed to abate; he began to count them, and arrange them in equal piles. Then, having counted them once more, he put them in the purse, which he thrust into the pocket of his coat, covering it with his handkerchief, as if to hide it, and kept his left hand upon his pocket to defend his treasure.

"Who is he, then?" asked Gaspard. -“I will make you acquainted with him if you wish; he will be as good to you as to us, and to all of those who love him sincerely."

These words served only to increase the universal astonishment. Who is this friend, then, this rich and beneficent patron? was the question of every one. It is not the lord of the village, whom they scarcely knew; could it be the prince? He is kind and gene. rous. . . . Sophia returns from the city; she may have told him her distress, and perhaps he has given her a great deal of money. Per haps William has been some time his gardener, and may have had the opportunity of ren dering him some great service, for which he

"I thank you, neighbor William," said he; "I am very glad not to be obliged to sell your property. This assistance comes in the nick of time, as you see; but," with a mourn-is grateful; but why will he oblige Gaspard? ful sigh, added he, "this will not restore me what I have lost."

Although he was by no means disinterested and charitable, Gaspard, however, had honesty. William and Sophia offered him the two notes of three thousand francs each, signed in their favor by the jeweller, which were as good as cash.

"These six thousand francs,” said they to him, "will enable you to rebuild your property, and to buy horses and cattle. Take them; you will pay us a moderate interest, and if you freely put yourself and your fortune under the protection of God, at the end of some years, your misfortune will be completely repaired."

Gaspard heard them, and looked at them with astonishment; he eyed the notes, read them over and over, and could not understand all this. Thomas and Margaret, and a crowd of persons who had come to inquire about Gaspard, and especially about William, had heard their conversation, and could not con

William, seeing the farmer a little pacified, wished to profit by the occasion to bring him to God, and added:

1

Well, then, do you wish that I should go seek this friend always eager to assist his true friends?"

Certainly," answered Gaspard. —“Wait a moment, and you will see him," said William, running to his little parlor.

Is this friend then in the house? thought the bystanders? Sophia has returned with neighbor Jerome only; we have not taken notice of the arrival of any stranger; this is unintelligi. ble!

William came back, holding above his head the wooden cross, upon which was fixed a brazen image of our Saviour.

"Behold!" he exclaimed, "the faithful friend of all the afflicted who implore his aid. Never have his ears been closed to our supplications, never has his heart been insensible to our tears. Gaspard, you have forgotten him too long, only thinking of the goods of this

aversion, seeing himself for the first time the object of universal joy and affection, found himself so happy from the new feelings which he experienced, that, notwithstanding the destruction of his property, he several times repeated, in the sincerity of his heart:

"Ah! this is the happiest day of my life; for I am loved by my neighbors, and am going to enter into the communion of the faithful."

world. You have been punished for your neglect by the loss of your goods; return to him and he will return to you. He ever receives with infinite kindness the repenting sinner; it is he who has given me the means and the will to assist you, as I did at the very instant when you were about to treat us so ill. He said to me: " 'Gaspard wishes to ruin you; save him, for you are a Christian, and he is your neighbor.' Gaspard, in the name of God, who bids me render you good for evil, I conjure you to be reconciled with your Heavenly Father! I beseech you, for yourer of the crucifix; then opening the wooden own sake.. Ah! if you knew the sweets and consolations which a pious soul always finds in the bosom of her Creator, I would have no reason to call you to him, you would fly to him yourself."

After this affecting scene, William related the manner in which Sophia became the own

cross he explained the rest of the circumstance. It is a visible aid from heaven, said they to one another; and each one approached in his turn to see and admire this simple wooden cross. They regarded it with a religious awe, and could not help admiring the secret ways of Providence, who has always means to assist the virtuous, and chastise the wicked, as was demonstrated by the discovery of the diamonds and by the destruction of Gaspard's property.

Filled with more Christian sentiments, Gaspard asked for his son, and pardoned him without delay. Both were sincerely converted, and God blessed their repentance and their labors. They repaired their losses, and merited the esteem and affection of all. William, Sophia, and their children, continued to edify the village by their counsel and examples, and they never forgot the poor old Agnes, who lived a long time to enjoy the bounty of her charitable neighbors.

Then William, putting the crucifix in the hands of his wife, raised Gaspard from his knees, and made him sit down; for, exhausted The wooden cross has passed from generation by so many different feelings, he seemed ready to generation in the family of Sophia and Wilto faint. Every one came to speak to him, and liam; the parents often show it to their chilto congratulate him. A joyful serenity played dren as a souvenir telling of the solicitude of upon every countenance, and Gaspard, for God for those who walk faithfully in his holy whom till then they had felt an insuperable ( ways, and place all their hopes in HIM.

THE END.

LINES ON WASHINGTON.

To the memory of him who was "First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen."

BY GEORGE W. P. CUSTIS, OF ARLINGTON.

"FIRST in War!" he drew his patriot brand,
Not worlds to conquer, but a world to save;
When peace and freedom blessed his native land,
Returned his power into the hands that gave.

Illustrious Man! could not ambition then,

Tempt thee to turn against thy country's breast,
Thy victor sword? To be like other men,
And hailed a hero with the laurelled rest?

Ah no! Thy laurels were by virtues won,
Pure and untarnished by a single shame,
Freedom and glory claim their Washington,—
Millions unborn will venerate thy name.

"First in Peace!" In our bright and early day,
When constitution's banner was unfurled,

The civic chief! how wise his civic sway!
When a young empire dawned upon the world.

"First in a People's hearts!" Aye, there enshrined,
His fame and memory will never die ;
But will instruct, adorn and bless mankind,
Till time shall merge into eternity!

Called to his great reward, his race is run;
Yet there's a pure, a mild benignant ray,
Gleams from the radiance of his setting sun,
To light the future patriot on his way.

What! tho' nor bronze nor marble trophies grace,
Nor the proud column lifts its towering head,
Nor nation's tribute marks the honored place
Where rest the ashes of the mighty dead,

Yet, as the future pilgrim journeys on

Through this vast realm, he'll view, with eye intent,

The matchless glories of a Washington;

An empire's self its hero's monument.

LINGARD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

UNDER this heading the DUBLIN REVIEW for May, 1842, contains a very able article, the object of which is to set forth the superior merits of Dr. Lingard's History; and in doing so, the reviewer is led to consider and to expose the defects and errors of other writers of English History, who in some respect or other, were incompetent for the task which they undertook. We lay before our readers copious extracts from his remarks, with a view to attract public attention to the best History of England that has ever appeared, and to aid, as far as we can, in exhibiting the egregious mendacity which characterizes the work of Hume, and banishing it from the catalogue of creditable records. The history which this illustrious falsifyer has given to the world, has already been discarded in England as an authority, and it is time that in this country also it should meet with the fate which it deserves. To place such a narrative in the hands of an inquirer after truth would argue either great ignorance or unpardonable malice. But this will be sufficiently seen in the subjoined excerpts. The reviewer opens his article with a reference to the histories that appeared before the Revolution, and after having shown that the Protestant writers subsequent to the Reformation were utterly devoid of that fearless love of truth and popular liberty, which distinguished their Catholic predecessors, he proceeds with the following observations.

ED.

three folio volumes, which he hoped would eclipse the fame of Rapin's; but he and they were soon forgotten. In 1747, Carte, a nonjuring clergyman, published the first volume of a history of England; and in 1750, 1752, and 1755, a second, third, and fourth volume, which brought the history down only to 1654. In a knowledge of his subject, and particularly of the rolls of parliament, and other early records, he was eminently superior to any of

and inelegant; an inveterate Tory, and could not be safely followed in the narration of any transaction in which the pretensions of the crown and the liberties of the subject came in collision.

[P to the Revolution no work had appeared worthy of the name of a history of England. In the reigns of Anne and George I., Echard published a history embodying the national annals from the Roman invasion to 1688. As he wrote in the spirit of a High Churchman and Tory, and therefore coincided with the prejudices of a vast body of the nation, he obtained considerable popularity. He was, however, soon superseded by Rapin, who in 1725 published his history, in seven-his predecessors; but he was prolix, diffuse, teen volumes, at the Hague. He was one of the French Protestants, whom the persecution of 1685 drove to England. There he became tutor in some noble families. He attended William III. in his campaign in this country; afterwards obtained a small pension from him, and retired to Wesel in the duchy of Cleves, where he commenced and finished his history. A few years after its publication at the Hague, two translations appeared in England, by Tyndal and Kelly. In impartiality and accuracy it was far superior to any preceding history,tises, was in 1752 chosen librarian to the faand therefore maintained a high reputation for a long time; but Rapin being a foreigner, and residing abroad during its composition, was necessarily ignorant of many things which an English historian ought to have known. In 1744, Guthrie, a rank Tory, published

Such was the state of English historical literature when Hume entered the field. His history has attracted so much attention that we must notice it at greater length than any of its predecessors. Hume, after the publication of the greater part of his essays and trea

culty of Advocates at Edinburgh, and having thus the command of a large library, and considering "the subject suited to every capacity," he betook himself to writing the his

*See an account of his life, by himself, p. 9.