to his entreaties, and, whilst I ate, Saheb informed me that my imprisonment was owing to the treacherous Hindoo merchant, Omychund; who, in hopes I suppose of possessing himself in quiet of all the wealth which I had entrusted to his care, went to the Sultan and accused me of having secreted certain diamonds of great value, which he pretended I had shown to him in confidence. Tippoo, enraged at this, dispatched immediate orders to four of his soldiers, to go in search of me, seize me, imprison and torture me, till I should confess where these diamonds were concealed. Saheb was in the Sultan's apartment when this order was given, and immediately hastened to Prince Abdulcalie, whom he knew to be my friend, and informed him of what had happened. The Prince sent for Omychund, and, after carefully questioning, was convinced by his contradictory answers and by his confusion, that the charge against me was wholly unfounded. He dismissed Omychund, however, without letting him know his opinion, and then sent Saheb for the four soldiers, who were setting out in search of me. In their presence he gave Saheb orders aloud to take charge of me, the moment I should be found, and secretly commissioned him to favour my escape. The soldiers thought that in obeying the Prince they obeyed the Sultan; and consequently, when I was taken and lodged in my dungeon, the keys of it were delivered to Saheb. When he had finished telling me all this, he restored to me my ring, which he said he snatched from my finger as soon as I was seized, that I might not be robbed of it by the governor, or some of the soldiers.

The grateful Saheb now struck off my chains; and my own anxiety for my escape was scarcely equal to his. He had swift horses belonging to the soldiers in readiness: and we pursued our course all night without interruption. He

was well acquainted with the country, having accompanied the Sultan on several expeditions. When we thought ourselves beyond the reach of all pursuers, Saheb permitted me to rest; but I never rested at my ease till I was out of Tippoo Sultan's dominions, and once more in safety at Madras.-EDGEWORTH.

ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.

The most usual way among young men who have no resolution of their own, is first to ask one friend's advice, and follow it for some time; then, to ask advice of another, and turn to that; so of a third; still unsteady, always changing. However, every change of this nature is for the worse people may tell you of your being unfit for some peculiar occupations in life; but heed them not. Whatever employment you follow with perseverance and assiduity, will be found fit for you; it will be your support in youth and comfort in age. . . . In learning the useful part of every trade, very moderate abilities will suffice: great abilities are generally an obstacle to success. . . . . ... Be contented with one good employment: for, if you understand two at a time, people will give you business in neither.

A conjuror and a tailor once happening to converse together, "Alas!" cries the tailor, "what an unhappy poor creature am I! If people take it into their heads to live without clothes, I am undone; I have no other trade to have recourse to." "Indeed, friend! I pity you sincerely," replies the conjuror; "but, thank Heaven! things are not quite so bad with me: for, if one trick should fail, I have a hundred tricks more for them yet. However, if at any time you are reduced to beggary, apply to me, and I will relieve you." A famine overspread the land; the tailor made a shift to live, because his customers could not be without

clothes! but the poor conjuror, with all his hundred tricks, could find none that had any money to throw away. It was in vain that he promised to eat fire, or to vomit pins; no single creature would relieve him, till he was at last obliged to beg from the very tailor whose calling he had formerly despised.

There are no obstructions more fatal to success than pride and resentment. The resentment of a poor man is like the efforts of a harmless insect to sting; it may get him crushed, but cannot defend him. Who values that anger which is consumed only in empty menaces?

Once upon a time a goose fed its young by a pond side; and a goose, in such circumstances, is always extremely proud, and excessively punctilious. If any other animal, without the least design to offend, happened to pass that way, the goose was immediately at it. "The pond," she said, “was hers, and she would maintain her right in it, and support her honour, while she had a bill to hiss, or a wing to flutter. In this manner she drove away ducks, pigs, and chickens; nay, even the insidious cat was seen to scamper away from her. A mastiff, however, happened to pass by, and thought it no harm if he should drink a little of the water, as he was thirsty. The goose flew at him, pecked at him with her beak, and slapped him with her feathers. The dog grew angry, and had twenty times a mind to give her a sly suap; but suppressing his indignation, because his master was nigh, "Shame on thee!" cries he, "for a fool! sure those who have neither strength nor weapons to fight, at least should be civil." So saying, he went forward to the pond, quenched his thirst in spite of the goose, and followed his master.

Another obstruction to the fortune of youth is, that, while they are willing to take offence from none, they are also

equally desirous of giving nobody offence. Hence, they endeavour to please all, comply with every request, and attempt to suit themselves to every company; have no will of their own, but like wax, readily catch every impression. By thus attempting to give universal satisfaction, they at last find themselves miserably disappointed: to bring the generality of admirers on one's side, it is enough to produce good workmanship. A painter of eminence once had resolved to finish a piece which should please the whole world. When, therefore, he had drawn a picture, in which his utmost skill was exhausted, it was exposed in the public market-place, with directions at the bottom for every spectator to mark with a brush that lay by, every limb and feature which seemed erroneous. The spectators came, and in general applauded; but each, willing to show his talent at criticism, marked whatever he thought proper. At evening, when the painter came, he was mortified to find the picture one universal blot—not a single stroke that had not the marks of disapprobation. Not satisfied with this trial, the next day he was resolved to try them in a different manner: and, exposing his picture as before, desired that every spectator would mark those beauties he approved or admired. The people complied, and the artist returning, found his picture covered with the marks of beauty; every stroke that had been yesterday condemned, now received the character of approbation. Well," cries the painter, "I now find that the best way to succeed is to aim at satisfying the few.". GOLDSMITH.

THE CHAMOIS, AND CHAMOIS HUNTING.

The animals which lend the greatest charm to the mountains are the chamois; those beautiful, swift-footed goats of the rock, which wander in small herds through

the loneliest districts of the Alps, people the highest ridges, and course rapidly over leagues of ice-fields. Though much resembling the goat, the chamois is distinguished from it by longer and larger legs, a longer neck, a shorter and more compact body, and especially by its horns, which are black and curved like a hook. These horns are much used in ornamenting those ingenious fabrics which the Swiss peasants make, and which travellers bring back as memorials from that country.

They live together in herds of five, ten, or twenty. Their grace and agility are very remarkable. They bound across wide and deep chasms, and balance themselves on the most difficult ledges; then, throwing themselves on their hind legs, reach securely the landing place, often no bigger than a man's hand, on which their unerring eye has been fixed. It is difficult to give a trustworthy account of this noble animal's agility.

Their wonderful sense of smell, sight, and hearing, preserves the chamois from many perils. When they are collected in troops, they will appoint a doe as sentinel, which grazes alone at a little distance, while the others are feeding; and looks round every instant snuffing the air with her nose. If she perceives any danger, she gives a shrill whistle, and the rest fly after her at a gallop. But their most acute sense is that of smell. They scent the hunter from an immense distance if he stands in the direction of the wind. The trained chamois hunters of Switzerland belong to the poorer classes. They are a sturdy frugal race, inured to all weathers, and familiar with the details of the mountains, the habits of the animals, and the art of hunting them. The hunter needs a sharp eye, a steady hand, a robust frame, a spirit resolute, calm, ready and circumspect; and besides all this, good lungs and