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ed to accompany him in death. But she could not bear to think of leaving her beloved son, of five years old, in a world of misery and him. The child stretched out his
utter a sound. The boy lay in the middle, and the husband and wife had their arms thrown over
little hands towards his deliverer, and his first word was-bread! it was now the third day that not a morsel of food had entered his
to die. But what mode of death The parents lay still in a pershould they adopt? They made fect stupor; they had never heard choice of the most horrible-of the bursting open of the door, and starving accordingly they waited felt nothing of the embraces of in their solitary and deserted their agitated friend. Their apartment, their dear deliverer wasted eyes were directed towards death, in his most ghastly form. their boy, and the tenderest exTheir resolution, their fortitude pressions of pity were in the look were immoveable. with which they had last beheld him; and still saw him dying.
Their friend hastened to take measures for their deliveranceį but could not succeed without difficulty. They thought they had already done with the troubles of the world; and were suddenly
They locked the door and began to fast. When any one came and knocked, they fled into the corner, and were in perpetual dread lest their purpose should be discovered. Their little son, who had not yet learned to silence the calls of hunger by artificial reasons, whim- terrified at being forced into them pering and crying, asked for again! Void of sense and reflecbread, but they always found tion, they submitted to the atmeans to quiet him. tempts that were made to restore It occurred to one of Boissy's them to life. At length their friends, that it was very extraor- friend hit upon the most efficacious means. He took the child from their arms, and thus called up the last spark of paternal and maternal tenderness. the child to eat; who with one hand held his bread and with the other alternately shook his father and mother; his piteous moans at length roused them from their death-like slumber. It seemed at once to awaken a new love of life
dinary that he should never find him at home. At first he thought the family were removed, but, on being assured of the contrary, he grew more uneasy. He called several times in one day: always nobody at home! At last he burst open the door.-Oh, what a sight!
He saw his friend, with his wife and son, lying on a bed, pale and emaciated, scarcely able to
in their hearts, when they saw the National Institution for the that their child had left the bed Working Blind, which owes its and their embraces. formation to the indefatigable toils Nature did her office. Their and warm philanthropy of Monfriend procured them strengthen- sieur Haüy, and is indebted to ing broths, which he put to their the Government for its increased lips with the utmost caution, and state of prosperity. By this meridid not leave them till every symp-torious establishment, a great numtom of restored life was fully visi-ber of blind are not only rendered ble. Thus they were saved. happy in themselves and useful to This transaction made a great society, but are also taught to noise in Paris, and at length reach-execute many ingenious works ed the ears of the Marchioness de with an accuracy and delicacy Pompadour. Boissy's deplorable which the clearest-sighted persons situation moved her. She imme- can rarely excel. Some are exdiately sent him a hundred louis cellent musicians, others arithd'ors, and soon after procured meticians; others are printers, him the profitable place of Con-glove-makers, weavers; in short trolleur du Mercure de France, there is no employment beyond with a pension for his wife and child, if they outlived him.
An Abridgment of the Travels of a
(Continued from page 108.)
The National Institution for the Deaf and Dumb is equally wonderful.
The Churches of Paris are beautifully constructed, and contain a number of marble statues and other elegant embellishments. The Public Libraries, which are numerous, contain very extensive and valuable collections of The Theatres next attracted our books. One of the most praise- attention. worthy Institutions in Paris, is tion for
The peculiar predilectheatrical and other
To be continued.
A suffolk farmer whose accent was singularly broad, took his firstborn child, a boy, to the parson of the parish to be baptized. He told the Divine his name was to be John, but he spake so like Joan, that the other concluded it to be a girl, and actually performed the service of the church as if for a female child, without the observation of any present. The parishclerk finding out the mistake a few days afterwards, went in haste to the vicar, imploring him to alter
amusements, which characterizes |tain, it certainly heightens the the French people, is no where so effect of dramatic representation' conspicuous as in Paris. We are informed that during the Revolution the number of Theatres was strangely multiplied. No less than thirty were nightly filled. This, however, far from being favourable to the progress of the dramatic art, would have been ultimately destructive to it. To fill so many houses, it was necessary to produce a constant succession of new pieces, unstudied and badly written, and performed by actors without nature and without talents. More than two thousand new pieces were produced in one year, of which scarcely a twentieth part survived the first representation; and in those which for a while succeeded, real taste and good morals were sacrificed to the grossest wit, and the most romantic improbabilities. The national the register or name the child taste was so suddenly and so rapid-again; but the Divine refused, ally deteriorating, that government leging the impropriety of transat length interfered, and limited gressing the rubrical injunction, the number of great theatres to "I will, nevertheless, make four, and of the minor houses to memorandum of the circumstance," six. Our large theatres far sursaid he, and wrote the following pass the Parisian houses in elėin the register; "Mem. The girl gance and accommodation; but in baptised on the 10th instant by dancing, the peculiar forte of the the name of Joan, proved a fortFrench, we are much inferior. night afterwards, (mirabile dictu In the Paris theatres, less light is to be a boy!". admitted into the audience part of the house, and more is thrown on the stage. Although this gives the theatre a sombre appearance, previous to the rising of the cur
A gentleman lately advertised that his premises were to be sold, and that they might be viewed with the permission of his wife!
A Clincher-Young Wilding monk turned round to his son, outdone!— In the coffee-room at who was in the room, the Bush Tavern, Bristol, the con- sir, that my lord your father versation of the company touched gives his consent to my request." on the subject respecting the real The son immediately exclaimed, or imaginary existence of Mer- "Father, is it your will that I maids, when one of the party de- should kick this monk down clared in favour of the affirmative. stairs ?" The usual nod was Oh! real, beyond all doubt; I have given, and the youth did not fail seen seven or more at one time, to attend to it. the most beautiful creatures I ever beheld, with long black hair, and their young ones sucking at their
Short Commons.-At a shop in
breasts." The worthy and face- the Strand, appears the following tious host of the Bush replied-notice:--"Wanted two apprentices who will be treated as one of the
informed me that on Sunday family."
If you think the inclosed worthy a place in your Entertaining Miscellany, the insertion of it will oblige
Addressed to a Lady on the death of her brother.
Where wearied hearts no longer
A Monk Outwitted.A monk, There is a rest, where sorrow cannot who had introduced himself to the bedside of a dying nobleman who was at that time in a state of insensibility, continued crying out,
My lord, will make the grant of such and such a thing to our monastery
There is a pang, which every Soul
And thro' that pang this blessed rest is won!
The sick man, unable What tho' a pilgrimage which was beto speak, nodded his head. The
In sorrow, what tho' dark unrest
'Are ended, and our best friends shun These varied ills, is this a subject for despair?
The Church Ward.
Written on a Grave-stone at Banbury. Here rests my wife; poor Phillis, let her lie,
Rather let us waft our thanks in She finds repose at last, and so do I.
How o'er her cheek the modest blush- By the papers we learn that these two, es play'd, who were GRAVE MEN," When with a sigh her trembling A duel would fight, just to prove they hand I prest.
were brave men :
But what to me is now the closing day? And in this they did right; for should What her sweet converse? now,
one of them KILL, would bring to the other fresh "GRIST TO HIS MILL!"
July 2d, 1824.
TO CORRESPONDENTS. "M. C." and "AAQe." in our next. "G. S. C." will meet with early attention.