which resounded in the mountains. Enamelled meadows, aromatic plants, and blossoms of the vine, filled the atmosphere with a delicious fragrance in short, the reign of spring was on the decline, and that of summer beginning.

Mr. de Malesherbes, sitting down near his grotto, contemplated with awe the sweet stillness of morn, and the enchanting revival of nature; but suddenly he heard a slight noise. He first thought it was a hare, or a timid fawn running across the wood. He looked up, cast his eyes around, and perceived through the branches, a young girl, who, coming from Verneuil with a milk-pail on her head, stopped at a fountain, filled her bowl with water, walked up to the grove, watered it, returned several times to the fountain, and by that means, left at the root of each rose-tree a sufficient quantity of water to revive it.

The minister, who during this time remained quiet in a corner of his grotto, that he might not interrupt the young milk-maid, followed her eagerly with his eyes, not knowing to what cause he should ascribe the zealous attention which she paid to his rosetrees. The figure of the young girl was interesting; her eyes were the mirror of candour and cheerfulness, her complexion seemed to beam with the brilliancy of the dawn of day. E motion and curiosity, however, drew the naturalist involuntarily towards the young stranger, when she was pouring out her last bowl on a white rose-tree. At the sight of Mr. de Malesherbes, she trembled, and utter ed a cry of amazement. The minister went up to her, and asked who had ordered her to water the grove, "Oh, my lord!" says the young girl, all in a tremble, " my intentions were good, I assure you; I am not the only girl in the neighbourhood-today it was my turn." "How, your turn?” "Yes, my lord, yesterday it was Betsy's, and tomorrow it will be Mary's." "What do you mean, my good girl? I do not understand you."

VOL. VI.

"As you

have caught me in the fact, I can no longer keep it secret, neither do I think you will be very angry. You must know, my lord, that having seen you from our fields, planting and attending these fine rose-trees, it was agreed among us girls of the neighbouring hamlets, to prove to the man who scatters so many blessings amongst us, and does so much honour to agriculture, that he is not surrounded by ungrateful beings. Since he finds, we said, so much pleasure in cultivating his flowers, we will assist him privately; so all girls of fifteen, on coming back from Verneuil with their empty milk-pails, take it by turns to fetch water from the fountain close by, and water every morning before the sun rises, the rose-trees of our friend-of the father of us all. For these last four years, my lord, we have not neglected this duty, and I can even tell you, that every girl is anxious to reach her fifteenth year, to have the honour of watering Mr. de Malesherbes' roses."

66 at

This ingenuous and affecting narrative made a lively impression on the Minister. He never had received a greater gratification from the celebrity of his name. "I am no longer surprised," said he, with rapture, my rose-trees being so beautiful, and loaded with so many flowers. But since all the young girls of the neighbouring hamlets, are so good as to give me every morning so convincing a

proof of their regard, I engage on my part, never to let a day pass without visiting my Solitude, which is now dearer to me than ever."-" So much the better, sir," answered the young girl," then we shail drive our flocks this way, that we may have the happiness of seeing you at our ease, of regaling you with our songs, and of chatting now and then with you, whenever your lordship permits."

"Yes, my child," replied Mr. de Malesherbes, "I shall be glad to see you all. If any misfortune befails you, I shall endeavour to alleviate it; if any differences arise between you, I

shall, perhaps, be able to remove them; and if any engagements of the heart should happen to be obstructed by any disproportion in your fortunes, I shall know how to conciliate matters." "In that case," said the young milkmaid, with vivacity, "your lordship will not want employment, and I myself, may in a little time, have a word to say on that subject. But I forget that my mother is waiting; I'll run to give her the money for her milk, and tell her of the lucky adventure I have had." "Stay a moment," said the minister, detaining her; "what is your name ?" "Susan Bertrand, my lord." "Well, Susan," answered he, taking her by the hand, "give your companions, who, like you, take care of my rose-trees, what I am going to give you for them." "Oh! my lord, we want nothing: the receiving of your gold can never be equal to the pleasure we feel." "You are very right-no, all my fortune is not worth the delight you afford me at this moment, but until I shall be able to re

turn my thanks to your young friends, give them this kiss: tell them that their kindness enlivens the end of my career, and will never be erased from my memory." With these words, the reverend old man, imprinted a kiss on the forehead of the young milkmaid, who went away proud and happy of the honour she had received.

Mr. de Malesherbes delighted in telling this adventure to his friends: he rigidly performed the promise he had given to the young girl, and never let a day pass without visiting his rose-trees. Often, while a numerous and brilliant company were assembled in the mansion, this respectable minister, the counsellor, and the friend of his unfortunate king, sitting near his solitary grotto, shared the amusements of the shepherds of the neighbourhood, studied their propensities, their wants, and their habits, and returned home late in the evening, attended by some, and blessed by all.

On a following day, Mr. de Males

herbes heard that the youth of Verneuil and its vicinity were to dance that evening on the green before his celebrated grotto: "I may now say farewell to my roses," exclaimed the good natured sage; "the lads will wish to decorate their partners, and the girls will cull the finest roses to adorn themselves. But they will be happy, they will perhaps speak of me; I shall see them enjoying themselves, and witness their mirth. Well! well! if I have fewer roses, I shall have a greaer share of pleasure, and one is at least as good as the other."

However, as he was afraid lest his presence might intimidate the merry party, and prevent their giving themselves up to the joy which they expected from the dance, he refrained from directing his evening walk the usual way. But early the next day he was impatient to inspect the mischief which the dancing of the night before must have done in his grove, to repair the damage. What was his astonishment when he found every thing in the best condition! The spot where they danced had been raked over; the green seat had kept all its freshness; not a single rose had been taken, and over the entrance of the grotto was affixed in yellow flowers, the inscription-To our Friend, "What!" said he, 66 a company as numerous as merry, enjoying a rural dance; a party of young uneducated people, whose joy generally banishes all reserve, have yet respected my roses. How sweet is it to be thus beloved! I would not exchange my grotto for the finest palace in the world!"

On a subsequent day he was hesitating between the wish of assisting at the dance of the villages, and the fear of constraining them by his presence, when his valet informed him that a young girl bathed in tears wished to speak to him. He ordered her to be ushered in, and when she made her appearance, he asked her the cause of her sorrow. "Ah, my lord, I am undone, if you don't take pity upon me!" "What is the matter?

Speak, my girl, be comforted." "I must first tell you that it was my turn this morning to water your roses well. And, my lord, as it is my god-mother's birth-day, the wife of one of your farmers, with whom I have been ever since I became an orphan, and as I supposed nobody would see me, I gathered one of your roses in defiance of the vow we have made among us never to touch them." "A rose!" answered the minister, smiling, "that is not a theft of consequence. "" "It is, however, enough," replied the young girl, sobbing, "to disgrace me in the village." "How so?" "Nicholas Thorn, the spy of the village, saw me take the rose which tempted me so much he told the young men of it, and when I came to the dance, hoping to enjoy it as heartily as usual, I could not get a partner: they all said with one voice that for a whole twelve-month I should not be admitted into the grove. My godmother in vain pleaded for me; they all condemned me, even William-yes, William himself! You see, my lord, that I must continue a whole year without dancing: William will no longer have me, and I shall remain in disgrace all the days of my life." “To be doomed to die in disgrace for taking a rose would be too cruel a punishment for so slight a fault," replied the minister, concealing his emotion: "be comforted, my child! I, myself, will implore your pardon. Come, give me your arm; I always consider it my duty to defend the accused."

They went together to the scene of the rural ball. The eloquent natusalist pleaded the cause of the young offender with all the enthusiasm which an occurrence so interesting

to his heart, inspired: it was with great difficulty that he obtained her pardon. And that there might be no vestige remaining of the disgrace which the young girl had incurred, he presented her to William, induced him to dance with her, and promised to give her a portion on the day of her marriage. Susan Bertrand the pretty milk-maid, who had been the first that acquainted the minister with the tender veneration in which he was held, got a similar portion, which she has tened to share with one of the best young women of the village. The two happy pairs were united at the church on the same day : their nuptials were celebrated. Mr. de Malesherbes insisted upon both brides being adorned with roses from his grove, and made it a rule that from that day every girl who was married when the roses were in bloom, should be entitled to the same distinction. "It shall be," said he to the young girls around him," the memorial of your attention and my gratitude. When I am gone, my roses will remind you of your friend; you will fancy that I am still in the grove, and through your kind remembrance I shall assist at the happiest day of your life."

This custom, or rather, this interesting commemoration, is still preserved in the village of Verneuil. No couple is married without fetching a nosegay from the grove, and the inscription over the grotto is renewed every year. Ever since the cruel and untimely death* of the benevolent minister, the country people pay parti cular care to the grove of his planting, and vie in showing the most respect. ful regard to M. de Malesherbes' Ro

ses.

I HAVE read with much satisfaction, in your last Number, the celebrated trial of William Penn and William Mead,' and believe there are many of your readers who will agree with me, that at no time, from the era of the glorious Revolution to the present awful crisis, a republication of it was more necessary. I am not alone in the opinion, that the violent and arbitrary conduct of the magistrates, who, at that juncture, sat on the bench, fully confirmed the well known dictum of a celebrated author, that " summum jus est summa injuria."

After having made these few cursory remarks, it seems proper to add, that the gentleman who sent that article to your Magazine, has, through inadvertency or misinformation, been guilty of a mistake respecting the great William Penn. He was committed a prisoner to the Tower, not for writing No Cross No Crown, but for a publication entitled, "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," in which the commonly received doctrines of the Trinity were explained in a different manner from the creed of St. Athanasius and his adherents, though he explicitly owns the doctrine of the divinity of Christ.*

"With his prison hours he enriched the world," for the well-known treatise, "No Cross No Crown,” was written during his confinement; a work which the learned and pious Dr. Henry Moore, in a letter to the author, says, he looks upon "as a serious book, and very pious in the main," though he differs from the author with regard to titles and ceremonies. He also acknowledges that " a soul well awakened unto a sense of the best things, can scarcely want any external director or monitor; but the quaker's principle is the most safe and seasonable to keep close to a light within a man.”†

It must give pleasure to a large circle of your readers, to be informed that a Life of the great William Penn, is preparing for the press, by a person well qualified to do the subject justice; and as he will doubtless have recourse to a great number of letters and manuscript papers in different hands, and other original documents, much entertainment, as well as instruction, may be expected from the publication; and perhaps some of your readers, who enjoy the friendship of the gentleman in question, may give us information whether the intended Life is in forwardness. March 5, 1811.

BENEVOLUS.

THERE is something so soothing to the vanity of mankind in the respect and adulation which riches command, that those accidents which deprive us of them, are of all misfortunes, the most keenly felt, and the most sincerely sympathised. Our grief for the loss of a friend is soon

dispelled by the variety of other enjoyments which we possess, but of that of our fortune every occurrence reminds us. The gifts of fortune may indeed be despised by the philosopher, who has never enjoyed them; but he only can appreciate their value, who has been deprived of them. Men who

I was led to these reflections by a visit which I received a few days ago from a lady who for many years has acted a conspicuous part on the theatre of fashion. Melissa is the daughter of a clergyman in the west of England, who, dying young, left her, when she was scarcely one-and-twenty, in possession of a fortune, which by proper management would have supplied all the necessaries of life, and have afforded some of its superfluities. Fraught with notions of the felicity of a London life, Melissa quitted Devonshire as soon as she had arranged her affairs, and took a splendid house in Gloucester place. A stranger to the customs of the world, and totally ignorant of the value of money, the system of expense which she adopted would quickly have reduced her to beggary, had not her beauty and goodnature attracted the notice of a young gentleman of large fortune, and induced him to marry her.

Melissa was now in possession of every blessing which her heart could wish. She whirled in the vortex of dissipation, and was the object of general admiration at routs, theatres, and concerts. For some time her felicity was unclouded; but as perfect happiness is not proper for man in his present state, Melissa experienced a reverse of fortune by discovering the infidelity of her husband, for whom, with all her dissipation, she entertained a very serious affection.

Florio, who had no other object in marrying, than the possession of the person of his wife, no sooner found

himself uncontrolled master of that, than he began to find the beauty of other women equally attractive. As Melissa brought him no fortune, he thought himself at liberty to place his affections where he chose; and, as he was determined not to be very scrupulous in observing the conduct of his wife, he saw no reason why he should put any restraint upon his own.

For some time his gallantries were undiscovered. His conduct was however so notorious that it could not long escape the observation of Melissa, who glittered in his own circle. Dark surmises first made her uneasy, malicious insinuations roused her jealousy, the coldness of her husband strengthened her fears, and an assignation at a masquerade, to which she was an eye-witness, removed every doubt of his inconstancy.

This was a dreadful affliction to Melissa. It affected her very deeply; but, far from recriminating on her husband, she resolved to endeavour, by the most rigid attention to her own behaviour, to regain his affections. But alas! there is so slight a difference betwen guilt and dissipation, that unless the latter is quitted (a sacrifice which Melissa was unable to make) the imputation of the former can seldom be avoided.

Melissa's only consolation in her hours of solitude (for hours of solitude and reflection will intrude on the busiest and most dissipated) was a very fine boy whom she bore her husband within a twelve-month of their marriage, and who was now about four years o'd. Her affection for this child was so unbounded, and her indulgence so ill-judged, that little master soon found himself the more powerful of the two. Florio was also very fond of his son, and spared no expense of his education. Unfortunately both parents were too fond of the darling to expose him to the rude buffets of a public school; but as Florio was determin ed to give his son the education to which his birth entitled him, he placed him under the care of a private tutor,