consolation of success, let your indulgence be proportional to my zeal.

"The interest which the public prints have taken in the fate of Frances Sage, a young English woman, now under sentence of death in Newgate, induced me yesterday to visit a dwelling which her crime had made desolate, and at least to pour the healing balm of condolence upon the wounds of her distracted friends.

"A finished scene of the distress I witnessed, must not agonize your royal bosom. Every thing proclaimed distress and desolation; one tear was forced from her parents' eyes only to make room for another, and they looked as if, at that moment, they had experienced a most melancholy confiscation of all their family honours.

"I found that the same breeze on which your welcome voice first floated on the ears of a joyful people, was burthened with the cries of this unhappy girl, for she is just your age. That the innocence of her youth had been assailed by the artifices of an accomplished villain, who had deserted her at the moment of her utmost need; that she had never before been guilty of a crime, except when she submitted to the wiles of her seducer; that an ignominious death awaited her; that no effort was making for her safety; and that she was enveloped in contrition.

"Smooth and sudden is the descent from virtue. When the despoiler of her honour had induced the first step towards degradation, it was easy for him to coerce a second; but there is an elasticity in the human mind, which enables it to rebound even after a fall more desperate than hers. In such an effort, oh! royal lady, assist her; and let the harsh gratings of her prison hinge be drowned in the glad tidings of your father's mercy. The eloquence of a Trojan monarch gained, in a hostile camp, the body of

his devoted Hector; and the force of royal advocacy was evinced at the memorable siege of Calais, when an enraged and stern king had firmly set his heart upon the execution of St. Pierre. Where then is the difficulty to be apprehended, when an only daughter, and a nation's hope, asks from a generous prince and an indulgent father, the life of a fallen but repenting woman. I have known the exquisite luxury of saving life, and announcing pardon; and I beseech you to lay such holy consolation to your heart, by raising your powerful voice in the advocacy of human frailty; snatch her not only from untimely death, but also from the contagion which surrounds her, from the infectious aggregation of the vices of a prison, where precept and example are rivals in the cultivation of depravity.

"I humbly ask it for her parents, because it will heal their bleeding hearts; and for her sea-beaten brother, for it will strengthen his arm against the enemies of your house; I solicit it for the empire, because she is a reclaimed subject; I ask it for the honour of that throne which you are destined to adorn; and I implore it for the sake of that God whose favourite attribute is mercy.

"Grant then this humble prayer, illustrious favorite of my prince, and may the divinity which hedges thrones,' mayHe who wears the crown immortally,' bless you with long, long life, and end it happy.

"JOSEPH,"

Along with this letter, the generous writer transmitted the following petition from the wretched girl herself.

To his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, &c. &c. &c. "The most humble Petition of Frances Sage,

"SHEWETH,

"That at an age when judgment was imperfect, and seduction strong, she was drawn from her father's house by the artifices of a villain.

"That degraded by her crime in the estimation of her family, when the hour of repentance came, no friendly door invited her return.

"That her dependance on her seducer was increased, while his attentions to her abated; and that in a distracted hour she purchased the continuance of his protection by a breach of the law.

"That her life must be forfeited for her crime, unless that contrition which she hopes has appeased her God, And may obtain for her the compassion of her prince. that she is not now more solicitous for life, than her prayers shall ever be devout for the generous author of her pardon.

"London, Nov. 15, 1812.

"FRANCES SAGE.

Her Royal Highness was moved by the pathetic energy of these appeals. She made inquiry into the circumstances of the girl's case; and finding that they had been fairly and honestly represented, she did not hesitate to intercede with her royal father in her behalf, and had the happiness not to plead in vain. The life of the criminal was saved, and the worthy "Joseph" had once more "the exquisite luxury of saving life, and announcing pardon."

IN the hard frost of the year 1740, the benevolent Duke of Montague went out one morning in disguise, as was, his favourite practice, in order to distribute his bounty to his afflicted fellow creatures. He descended into one of those subterraneous dwellings of which there are many in London, and accosting an old woman, inquired, "How she lived in these hard times, and if she wanted charity?" "No," she replied; "she thanked God she was not in want; but if he had any thing to bestow, there was a poor creature in the next room almost starving." The duke visited this poor object, made her a donation, and then inquired of the old woman, " If any more of her neighbours were in want? She said, "Her left hand neighbour was very poor, and very honest. "Sure," replied the duke, "you are very generous and disinterested; pray, if it is no offence, let me know your own circumstances.” "I owe nothing," said the good woman, "and am wortli thirty-shillings.' "Well, but I suppose a little addition would be acceptable." "Yes, certainly, but I think it wrong to take what others want so much more than I do." The duke took out five guineas and desired her accepttance of them. The poor creature was quite overcome by this mark of generosity, and when able to express herself, exclaimed, "Oh! sir, you are not a man but an angel."

THE CHEVALIER BAYARD.

THE town of Bresse having revolted against the French, was attacked, taken, and sacked, with an almost

unexampled fury. The Chevalier Bayard, who was wounded at the beginning of the action, was carried to the house of a person of quality, whom he protected from the fury of the conquerors, by placing at the door two soldiers, whom he indemnified with a gift of eight hundred crowns, in lieu of the plunder they might have lost by their attendance at the door.

The impatience of Bayard to join the army without considering the state of his wound, which was by no means well, determined him to depart. The mistress of the house then threw herself at his feet, saying, "The rights of war make you master of our lives and our possessions, and you have saved our honour. We hope, however, from your accustomed generosity, that you will not treat us with severity, and that you will be pleased to content yourself with a present more adapted to our circumstances than to our inclinations. At the same time she presented him with a small box full of ducats.

Bayard, smiling, asked her how many ducats the box contained. "Two thousand five hundred, my lord," answered the lady, with much emotion; "but if these will not satisfy you, we will employ all our means to raise more.' "No, madam," replied the Chevalier, “ I do not want money; the care you have taken of me more than repays the services I have done you. I ask nothing but your friendship; and I conjure you to accept of mine."

So singular an instance of generosity, gave the lady more surprise than joy. She again threw herself at the feet of the Chevalier, and protested that she would never rise until he had accepted of that mark of her gratitude. "Since you will have it so," replied Bayard, "I will not refuse it; but may I not have the honor to salute your amiable daughters ?" The young ladies soon entered, and