the chase lay through the shrubs of the forest. The stag had been hard run; and, to escape the dogs, had crossed the river in a deep part. As the dogs could not be brought to follow, it became necessary, in order to come up with it, to make a circuitous route along the banks of the river, through some thick and troublesome underwood. The roughness of the ground, the long grass and frequent thickets, obliged the sportsmen to separate from each other; each one endeavouring to make the best and speediest route he could. Before they had reached the end of the forest, the king's horse manifested signs of fatigue and uneasiness; so much so, that his Majesty resolved upon yielding the pleasures of the chase to those of compassion for his horse. With this view, he turned down the first avenue in the forest, and determined on riding gently to the oaks, there to wait for some of his attendants. The King had only proceeded a few yards, when, instead of the cry of the hounds, he fancied he heard the cry of human distress. As he rode forward, he heard it more distinctly. Oh, my mother! my mother! God pity and bless my poor mother!' The curiosity and kindness of the sovereign led him instantly to the spot. It was a little green plot on one side of the forest, where was spread on the grass, under a branching oak, a little pallet, half covered with a kind of tent; and a basket or two, with some packs, lay on the ground at a few paces distant from the tent. Near to the root of the tree he observed a little swarthy girl, about eight years of age, on her knees, praying,

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while her little black eyes ran down with tears. Distress of any kind was always relieved by his Majesty, for he had a heart which melted at 'human woe;' nor was it unaffected on this occasion. And now he inquired, What, my child, is the cause of your weeping? For what do you pray?' The little creature at first started, then rose from her knees, and pointing to the tent, said, 'Oh, sir! my dying mother!' What?' said his Majesty, dismounting, and fastening his horse up to the branches of the oak, 'what, my child? tell' me all about it.' The little creature now led the King to the tent:-there lay, partly covered, a middle-aged female Gipsy, in the last stages of a decline, and in the last moments of life. She turned her dying eyes expressively to the royal visitor, then looked up to heaven; but not a word did she utter; the organs of speech had ceased their office; the silver cord was loosed, and the wheel broken at the cistern. The little girl then wept aloud, and, stooping down, wiped the dying sweat from her mother's face. The King, much affected, asked the child her name, and of her family; and how long her mother had been ill. Just at that moment another Gipsy girl, much older, came, out of breath, to the spot. She had been at the town of W and had brought some medicine for her dying mother. Observing a stranger, she modestly courtsied, and, hastening to her mother, knelt down by her side, kissed her pallid lips, and burst into tears. 'What, my dear child,' said his Majesty, 'can be done for you? Oh, sir!' she replied, my dying mother

wanted a religious person to teach her, and to pray with her, before she died. I ran all the way before it was light this morning to W, and asked for a minister, but no one could I get to come with me to pray with my dear mother!' The dying woman seemed sensible of what her daughter was saying, and her countenance was much agitated. The air was again rent with the cries of the distressed daughters. The King, full of kindness, instantly endeavoured to comfort them he said, 'I am a minister, and God has sent me to instruct and comfort your mother.' He then sat down on a pack, by the side of the pallet, and taking the hand of the dying Gipsy, discoursed on the demerit of sin, and the nature of redemption. He then pointed her to Christ, the all sufficient Saviour. While doing this, the poor creature seemed to gather consolation and hope her eyes sparkled with bright-ness, and her countenance became animated. She looked up; she smiled; but it was the last smile; it was the glimmering of expiring nature. As the expression of peace, however, remained strong in her countenance, it was not till some little time had elapsed, that they perceived the struggling spirit had left mortality.

"It was at this moment that some of his Majesty's attendants, who had missed him at the chase, and who had been riding through the forest in search of him, rode up, and found him comforting the afflicted Gipsies. It was an affecting sight, and worthy of everlasting record in the annals of kings.

"He now rose up, put some gold into the hands of the afflicted girls, promised them his protection, and bade them look to heaven. He then wiped the tears from his eyes, and mounted his horse. His attendants, greatly affected, stood in silent admiration. Lord Lwas going to speak, but his Majesty, turning to the Gipsies, and pointing to the breathless corpse, and to the weeping girls, said, with strong emotion, Who, my lord, who, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto these?" "

CHAP. XVI.

Further interesting Correspondence.

"Dear Sir,

"In answer to your inquiries, I have to say, that, within my knowledge, little or nothing has, as yet, been accomplished for the Gipsies. The Home Missionaries have frequently paid flying visits to their camps, and prayed, read, preached and distributed tracts. In all cases they have been treated with much respect, and their labour has been repaid with the most sincere marks of gratitude. But I never met with very warm support in carrying on this object, but have been often exposed to some sarcastical insinuations, or sardonic smiles, from those who thought the attempt to ameliorate the condition of the Gipsies, only Quixotic.

“I think their wandering life is one very great impediment in the way of improving the Gipsy tribes, and yet they are so attached to it, that, when taken into families, as servants, they will not stay. Nor can any good be done to their children; for, like all wild people, the parents are attached to them to a fault; so that they cannot allow them to be absent from them even to enjoy the instruction of a school, suspecting that such a separation might end in their final disunion.

"Were a distinct society formed to effect a reforma