to a high military station, but who was still discontented, because he could not pursue his vicious inclinations with impunity. Towards this man he directed his thoughts, and determined to make him the instrument of his vengeance. He accordingly went to him, and engaged him to meet him privately, the same evening, in the palace court, behind the old woman's cot, where, he said, he wished to speak to him on an affair of the utmost importance. The minister knew that his brother, at a time when he commanded the armies of Quisera's deceased father, had artfully lost a decisive battle, for which the enemy had rewarded him with a considerable sum; and that he, whom he intended to involve in the conspiracy, had assisted Jeroluf in betraying the king's army. Quisera, however, was entirely ignorant of this treachery; and all the heads of accusation against Jeroluf were of recent date. But the artful minister availed himself of his knowledge of the fact, to try whether Daramuc, in endeavoring to save his own life, might not also preserve his brother's. In the evening, Daramuc did not fail to repair to the court of the palace, where the minister, thinking himself unheard by every human ear, spoke as follows: "My friend, our master's rigorous justice is much too dangerous for ourselves and our friends. I only wish you to recall to mind the last war in which we were engaged."—" You then," said Daramuc,“ obtained for me one of the first military posts under your brother, who was appointed commander of the whole forces." "I did not mention this," rejoined the minister, "to remind you of an obligation; but merely to bring forward a circumstance that will be not less fatal to you than to my imprisoned brother, unless we have the courage to avert the blow. Know, then, that Quisera has decreed your death, and that, to-morrow, you will be confined. The monarch against whom our late king took up arms, has sent my brother's letters to Quisera, by which the whole treason is exposed, and the names of all who were concerned with him: yours, of course, is among the number." Daramuc, who knew the account of this treachery to be true, exclaimed-" Well, then, I will plunge my dagger in his heart before he can pronounce my sentence. He has long been hateful to me!" The minister, finding his design likely to be accomplished, replied—" I will be of your party; for I am determined to save Jeroluf, or perish in the attempt." The old woman, who had overheard the whole conversation, now crept out very softly from her little hut, and, going up to the officers who guarded the royal apartment, demanded an audience, saying, she had discovered a conspiracy, and must speak to the king in person. When led into his presence, she thus addressed him: "Most great and just monarch! send your guards instantly to secure two villians, who are behind my cottage-lose no time-and whilst they are gone, I will relate all I have overheard." The guards were immediately despatched; the king was informed of the whole conspiracy; and ten other conspirators were arrested, and separately examined by the judges, who sentenced them all to the ignominious death they so justly merited. Quisera, seeing that to a single act of justice, which had been blamed by every one, he owed the preservation of his life, felt, with the greater force, the justice of the Almighty, and became the more confirmed in his resolution of being just him self. tree, as a natural object, and to its timber as a material of building. THE CEDAR OF LEBANON. The Cedar of Lebanon is remarkable both for the beauty of its appearance and the durability of its wood. Anciently it was, indeed, held in the first estimation among trees. The great and wise Solomon speaks of it in his writings in the most rapturous terms of commendation, and in the building of his famous and gorgeous Temple he made so great use of this wood, that he almost stripped Mount Lebanon of its towering and wide spreading Cedars. Of the extent which Solomon made use of this wood in the building of the Temple, we may form some idea from the facts that that vast structure was almost entirely lined with it; and that to supply the necessary quantity of this precious wood no fewer than eighty thousand men were employed solely in felling Cedars and transferring them to Jerusalem. A Cedar, when seen in the prime of its living beauty, has a grandeur of appearance which would alone be sufficient to account for the partiality which Solomon showed both to the living But beyond this, there was yet another reason for his high estimation of his favorite tree. The wood of this tree emits a fragrance which protects it against ravages, which various kinds of insects commit upon nearly all other descriptions of wood. And the ancients had a most exaggerated notion of its durableness and incorruptibility; qualities which, however, it really possesses to an extent that forms a better apology for this exaggeration than some of their other fabulous relations can lay claim to. It was, probably, from a supposition, that the Cedar, incorruptible itself, could communicate its incorruptibility to objects placed in contact with it, that the sap of the Cedar was used by the ancients in embalming the bodies of the dead, and was also rubbed on the most precious of their manuscripts to preserve them. From the writings of Solomon, it is very evident, that if the Cedar was not originally native only of Lebanon, it was at least much more abundant and more beautiful than in any other country in the world It is never of the Cedar merely that Solomon speaks, when celebrating beauty or grandeur, but of the Cedar of Lebanon. But on Lebanon the Cedar no longer flourishes as it did of old. More than two centuries ago, a traveller who ascended Mount Libanus could only count two dozen of living and flourishing trees, and two or three old ones fast sinking into decay. And towards the close of the seventeenth century a traveller named Maundrell, visited Libanus, and reported that only sixteen Cedars were then standing. And this on the very site where, in the days of Solomon, there was an immense forest of these beautiful trees! The appearance of the Cedar derives its grandeur from its peculiar way of growth as well as from its great height and bulk. Its branches extend widely, and incline towards the earth; and when agitated by the wind, its rows of branches one above the other look like verdant banks put into gentle graceful motion. The Cedar-tree is very plentiful in New-England and many parts of the United States. The trees differ from that represented in the cut. The wood, however, possesses the same qualities of durability and fragrance, as that of the Cedar of Lebanon. The tree is sometimes called the savin-tree; and there is a spot near Boston called Savin Hill, from its abounding with these trees. SPEAKING JACKDAWs. In modern times, parrots are almost the only birds that have the gift of speech, though connoisseurs are not ignorant that starlings and jackdaws have good abilities in that way, when properly educated. The ancients could at times make them speak to some purpose: Macrobius tells us that when Augustus Cæsar was returning in triumph to Rome from his victory over Mark Antony, there appeared among the crowd which welcomed him, a bird borne on a man's hand, which flapped its wings, and cried out, "God save the Emperor, the victorious Cæsar!" Augustus, delighted to see himself saluted by this winged spokesman, gave its owner a handsome sum for the bird. The owner pocketed the money, refusing to share any of it with an associate who had aided him in training his jackdaw. This man, in order to be revenged, and to show the loyalty which had animated his friend, brought to the Emperor another bird which they had in training, and which called out, "God save the victorious Mark Antony." Augustus, whose good-nature is well known, only laughed at the joke, and ordered the confederates to divide the money. After his liberality in this instance, he had a number of speaking jackdaws and parrots brought to him. One poor fellow, a shoe-maker, took great pains to teach a bird which he had got for the purpose, hoping to make his fortune by it. The bird, who had no such prospects, was but a slow scholar; and his master, in the midst of his lessons, often ejaculated in despair, "Well, I have lost my labor!" Having at last, however, and with much pains, completed his education, the daw was brought out one day to salute Augustus, and repeated his "God save the Emperor" with great distinct It was a hot afternoon in July. The wind was hardly strong enough to stir the tops of the trees, or to waft the down from the thistle of the meadow. The birds were singing loudly from the boughs, as if they at least were very well contented with the weather. "It is much cooler in the chestnut grove than here," said James Ray to his sister Hannah. "Come put on your bonnet, and we will go there," continued he. Hannah did as she was asked, for it was a holyday, and her services were not needed at home. The children bounded out of the house, and were soon at the little brook, which flowed by the side of the grove. Now see me jump over this," said James, handing his hat to his sister. He ran a short distance, and in attempting to leap, placed his foot in the middle of the stream. Hannah laughed at the needless effort of her brother, and giving him his hat, said, "now see me step over it;" and placing one foot on a stone, with the other she lighted safely on the opposite side. James drew his feet out of the water, and acknowledged that his sister had taken the wisest method. They soon reached the grove and had not wandered far before some bright red strawberries caught their eyes, and kneeling down on the grass, they picked some of the largest they had ever seen. "What a pity that we didn't bring a basket, so that we might fill it with berries," said James. After they had eaten sufficiently, they wandered farther, till they entered a thick wood, and came to a clear run of water. Here they sat down on the fallen trunk of a tree to rest themselves. The air was very pleasant. The rustling of the trees was like a soothing music; and the moving shadows of the leaves upon the grass, made the ground appear dotted with sunshine. Now and then, a little squirrel would dart up the branches; or a robin redbreast would stop and tilt upon some bending twig. The brother and sister lingered near the spot till the sun had begun to sink in the west, and the air was no longer hot and oppressive. They then rose to return home. But some inviting berries on each side of the path would often delay their steps, and it was almost dark before they again crossed the little brook by the grove. Two or three stars might be seen in the sky, when they entered the door of their happy home, and sat down to their neat repast.. They said their prayers at an earlier hour than usual that evening, and the next morning arose grateful and refreshed. ADVERSITY. Scarcely any thing can be met with in books more interesting than the stories of those changes of fortune which have happened to persons of great rank and consequence. Among these the history of the last Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis the Sixteenth, is most remarkable; and indeed she may properly be mentioned as one of the few who have really been unfortunate; that is, of such as having once enjoyed all the happiness which the best state of human life can give, have, without any guilt on their part, fallen into the lowest condition of misery. Such was her lot. She was the daughter of an Emperor of Austria, one of the most powerful monarchs on earth; she was singularly beautiful, of a surprisingly sweet disposition, very charitable and tender-hearted; and so innocent and humble in her thoughts and behavior, that not only all the princes, lords, and noble ladies who surrounded her loved her like a sister, but the common soldiers, and the poor hard-working people of France did nearly the same. She was also at the same time Queen of that fine country, where the people were then celebrated for the respect they paid to women of every class; and they of course showed the utmost to the young and lovely wife of their King, who was himself a person of great goodness, and mild and gentle in his manner of governing. The laws, however, of his country were very bad: those of the inhabitants who were called nobility or gentry could do almost any thing they pleased; they could take the little he had from a poor man, or even take away his life without being punished for such a crime, while all the poor were slaves to the rich, and forced to labor for their advantage. This state of affairs could not last any longer: the people found out that the poor had a right to live as well as the rich; and in fact, a better right than they, because they performed all the hard work, while the rich were idle, and seemed to live for pleasure only. So, some among the poor began to make complaints; more soon joined them, and at length all of them agreed to destroy their rulers and great nobility, and to make good laws in place of their bad ones. In a short time the soldiers of France as sisted the people in their plans, and then it became an easy matter for them to do what |