STORY OF A HORSE. Joculare tibi videtur, & sane dene, PHEDR. "To catch the heart, the sportive muse stretched out, and lifeless, and under his of fore leg the following letter, which I got transcribed: "My dearest Master,-Before we part for ever, let me thank you for all your kindness; and, as the only requital I can make, leave you a few of the principal incidents of my life, from which you may draw something to amuse yourself and your friends. "Yorkshire gave me birth about two-andtwenty years ago. My three first years are not worth recording. In my fourth, I was purchased at a fair with several other horses, by a gentleman's steward, and carried about fifty miles off. The day after our arrival, my happy master, surrounded with a divan of country connoisseurs, had us led out, and assorting us according to our several endowments, destined me for the chase, and ordered me into the best pasture. His joy on this important event knew no bounds; he exulted in his felicity, and, after over-paying his agent only forty per cent. got drunk with his companions to crown the auspicious day. My close application to literature having some time ago produced some inward obstructions, I was ordered by my physician to undergo a regimen of exercise as well as medicine, and riding was particularly recommended. In consequence of this, I looked out for a horse, and after some search, met with one at a livery-stable, which pleased me extremely. He was a fine black, well marked, about fifteen hands high, and seemed to be both light and strong. But the circumstance which struck me most was, that he had more good sense in his face than any horse I ever saw, and his eye was particularly candid, ingenuous, and benign. The owner honestly confessed that he was hurt in his wind, a little tender in his feet, and that as to age he believed he could not be less than twenty. But I was so preju-atically educated on the plan which had been diced in his favour, that these were no objections, and I took him home with great pleasure at the price of nine guineas. "This gentleman being born to seven hundred pounds a year, and consequently under no necessity of a profession, had been system annexed as a royalty to the estate for many generations. The good effects of it indeed were very evident, for he was much happier Though I have no skill in horse flesh, it is than wiser men. His health and spirits were plain that I have some in physiognomy. Never invincible; his laughter sincere and frequent ; was there a better creature, a more agreeable | he ate and drank liberally, slept soundly, companion, nor, I am convinced, a more sin- though little, and felt less. I was his prime cere friend. We went out together, not as delight, and when he could not be on my back, master and servant, but on a footing of the he was always in the stable meditating future most perfect equality; and though I was upper- || raptures, or celebrating my praises over his most, yet, if I could have done it with the cups. In a short time, indeed, I felt the same same ease, I would willingly have carried him. instinct as himself, and found my spirits rise I never rode with either whip, switch, or spur, mechanically at the cry of the hounds. But Jest I might inadvertently burt him. on one fatal day, after exerting every sinew always chose his own road, went in the gait heunder him, during a mad unmeaning chase of liked best, stopped to graze as long as he had a mind, and turned homeward when he was tired. At every little ascent I alighted to favour his wind, and when he fell, which he always did when he stumbled, I soothed away the concern which his honest eye expressed as an apology for his feet. He Such was our happy intercourse for fifteen months, but one morning last week going to see him fed, I found the worthy animal seven hours, without seeing either fox or dogs, my sides being laid open by the spur, and covered with blood, I fainted, and fell under him. For this offence I was condemned as carrion; but his daughter begged me for herself, to which, after he found he had broken my wind, he at last assented. "I now got under a lovely pair of legs, and was stroked by a delicate white hand. My mistress was about eighteen, very handsome, and very ignorant. Indeed, the use of letters did not seem ever to have reached this man sion, for, as I understood, there was nothing|| legible in the house but a sheet almanack over the chimney, and half a volume of novels belonging to the upper maid. My poor young lady paid dearly for this deficiency. By the art of this hussey, she was inveigled to elope with a valet, and I was made the unwilling instrument of conveying her to his arms. Penitence and poverty soon ensued; but my master, with true parental affection, completed by his firmness, the ruin which her folly had begun, and left his favourite child to starve. "I was now a second time on his bands, when the young Squire came home,who having inherited £1500 a year by the death of a distant relation, had been to London for a mouth to see the world. I happened to please him, and the old gentleman, who, though strictly honest in every other dealing, was a latitudinarian as to horse-flesh, dropped my imperfections, and took in his son for sixty guineas. "My new purchaser was a tradesman, who having obtained by industry three thousand pounds more than he had ever expected, resolved to commence a man of fash on. I was put to his new post chaise, and matters went on merrily for about two years, when an aulucky execution laid hold of ine, and all the other cattle, the country house, and my lady's diamond car-rings. "This revolution threw me into the hands of a gentleman, who, from having nothing to do but to think, was become a first rate hypochondriac. For twenty times that I was saddled, I was not mounted once. He would look at the sky near half an hour, with one foot in the stirrup, presaging the weather; theu order me to the stable, and before I could take two bites, I was lead ont again. A gleam of sunshine broke out; the great coat was thrown aside. The ray disappeared; it was called for again. Three or four drops of a summer mist destroyed the whole scheme; he returned to bis chagrin, and I to my hay. "The composition of my young master was "But my greatest misfortune was my mas buckism, grafted upon folly. Taste, honour, ter's excessive care. Health was his only and gallantry, were his favourite subjects., study, and from the analogy between his vis His excessive finery proved the first; the se-cera and mine, he governed me by his own cond could not be doubted, for he quarrelled | theory. Grass was too laxative, hay was a in every company; and his love for the ladies was evident from his seducing, or (which pleased him just as well) being thought to seduce all the farmers' girls in the country. I have been fastened to a door in my rich furniture, for twelve hours together, to display his conquests. Nor was the bottle or the dice-box excluded from his system; so that in about three years I was released from a painfui service by the purchaser of his estate, and my young gentleman retired, friendless and unpitied, to obscurity, there to associate for the remainder of his life with contempt, poverty, and sickness. "My health had suffered so much by ill usage, that my new owner soon parted with me to one of the people called Quakers, in whose kind hands I soon began to recover. My pasture was excellent; neither my hay nor oats were embezzled; I was well worked, but never ill used, and by cleanliness and care I soon became as sleek as my master's beaver. Indeed every thing about him seemed to thrive. Habitual attention, quiet domestic discipline, and rational economy, made every hour cheerful and serene: but a price far above my value, tempted him at last to part with me, and with much regret I left a service where there was plenty without waste; neatness without finery; and happiness without show. caput mortuum, and oats infarcient. A com ponnd diet was therefore ordered, of chopped clover, strewed with rhubarb, balls of rice, oatmeal, powdered hartshorn and saloop, made up with treacle, with a carminative addi tion of pepper, aniseeds, and grated ginger. This regimen not agreeing with me, phlebotomy was directed once a week; sharp cathartics every other day, and three constaut rowels to draw off the peccant humours But the worst of all was an emetic, which being his own favourite remedy, was given to me daily, and, not operating in the way he wished, threw me into violent agenics. I heard the groom say, that my apothecary's bill for a year came to seventy-six pounds. But I soon be came an emblem of mortality, too strong for my master's imagination to bear, and he gave me away to a travelling pedlar. Thus I lost a good-natured man, possessed of sense and virtue; yet useless to society, and unhappy in himself, from the want of those interesting pursuits, without which nature will over prey upon herself, and her best purposes be defeated. "I find myself going my story would fill a volume-so various have been my miseries, as the slave of man, that their recital would hurt your philanthropy. My pangs increase. Farewell." X. THE REVENGE; A MORAL TALE, BY THE CELEBRATED DIDEROT, MEMBER OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY. THE Marquis des Arcis was a gay man, very amiable, with but a sorry opinion of the virtue of women. He however found one singular enough to keep him at a distance. Her name was Madame de la Pommeraye. She was a widow of character, of birth, of fortune, and of pride. M. des Arcis broke off all his other connections, attached himself solely to Madame de la Pommeraye, paid court to her with the greatest assiduity, and endeavoured by every imaginable sacrifice to prove to her his affection; he proposed even to marry her; but this lady was so unfortunate in her first husband that she had rather encounter every species of misfortune than hazard a second marriage. || This lady lived very retired. The Marquis was an old friend of her husband, he visited and continued to visit her. Overlooking his effeminate taste for gallantry, he was, what the world calls, a man of honour. The perseverance of the Marquis, seconded by his personal qualities, his youth, his figure, the apparent sincerity of his passion, by solitude, a natural disposition to tenderness, in a word, by every feeling which lays women open to the seduction of men had the effect, and Madame de la Pommeraye, after having withstood the Marquis for several months, and resisted even her own inclinations, exacted from him, as is customary, the most solemn oaths, made the Marquis happy, who would have enjoyed a most pleasant lot, had he preserved for his mistress those sentiments which he had sworn to maintain, and which she entertained for || bim, for women only know how to love; men are totally ignorant of the matter. At the expiration of a few years the Marquis began to find the life which he led with Madame de la Pommeraye too dull He proposed to her that they should mugle in society, and she consented. By degrees he passed one day and two days without seeing her; by and by he absented himself from the dinner and supper parties which he had arranged. Madame de la Pommeraye perceived that she was no longer the object of his love; it was necessary that she should ascertain the fact, and this was the mode she adopted. One day after dinner she said to the Marquis, "You are musing, my friend!”—“ You are musing also, Marchioness."-" True, my meditations are melancholy enough."-"Wbat is the matter with you?""Nothing,""That is impossible. Come, Marchioness,” said he, yawning, "tell me what it is; it will amuse both you and me. What are you troubled with ennui?"-" No; but there are days, on which people are apt to fall, into ennui.”—“ You are mistaken, my dear, I protest you are mistaken; but, in reality, there are days! One does not know from what it proceeds. My dear, I have a long time been tempted to make you my confidant, but I am afraid of giving you vexation "-" You give me vexation: you?"-" Perhaps I may; but Heaven is witness of my innocence. It has happened to me, without my being conscious of it, by a curse to which apparently the whole human race is subject; suce 1, even myself, have not escaped it."-"Ah, it concerns you, and to be afraid!" "What is the matter?'"Marquis, the matter is, I am wretched ; 1 min about to render you so; and, cvery thing properly considered, I had better be silent." "No, my love, speak out; can you keep auy thing that lies upon your heart a secret from me? Was it not the agreement we made, that we should lay open our souls to each other without reserve?"-"It is true, and this is the very thing which weighs me down; it is a charge which aggravates a fault of a more inportaut nature with which I accuse myself. "Have you not perceived that I no longer have my former gaiety? I have lost my appetite; I neither cat nor drink, but becaush ing reason tells me it is proper. I cannot slep. I am displeased with our most intimate communications. During the night 1 examine myself, and say; Is it that he is less amiable? No. Is it that you have reason to be dissatisfied with him? No. Why then, while your lover continues the same, bas your heart undergone a change? For it has changed.” "How, madam!" At this the Marchioness de Pommeraye covered her eyes with her hands, reclined her head, and a moment was silent; after which she added, "Marquis, I was prepared for your astonishment, for a!! the bitter things with which you could reproach me. Spare me, Marquis-No, do not spare me; say all your resentment can dictate; I will listen with resignation, for I deserve it. You are the same; but your friend is changed. She respects you; she esteems you as much or more than ever; but a woman, accustomed, like her, closely to examine what passes in the most secret recesses of her soul, and to allow nothing to impose upon her, cannot conceal from herself that love is fled. The discovery is frightful, but it is not the less real." Saying this, the Marchioness de la Pommeraye threw herself back in her arm chair, and fell a weeping. The Marquis threw himself down at her kuces :-" You are a charming, an adorable, a matchless woman," said he; "your frankness, your sincerity confounds me, and should overwhelm me with shame. Ah! what superiority over me does this moment confer upon you! How dignified I see you, myself how mean! You have been the first to confess, while it was I who first was guilty. We have only to congratulate ourselves mutually upon having lost, at the same moment, the frail and deteitful feelings by which we were once united." M. le Marquis des Arcis and Madame de la Pommeraye embraced, enchanted with one another, and separated. The greater the constraint under which the lady was in bis presence, the more violent was her grief when they parted. "It is then," cried she, “but too true; he loves me no more!" When the first paroxisms of passion were over, and when she was enjoying all the tranquillity of indig. nation, she considered of the means of avenging herself, and of avenging herself in a cruel manner, a way which should terrify all those who attempted in future to seduce and deceive a virtuous woman. She did avenge herscit, she was cruelly avenged; her vengeance was not concealed; but it corrected no person. Madame de la Pommeraye had formerly known a country lady, whom a law suit, bad obliged to repair to Paris along with her daughter, young, beautiful, and well educated. She had learned, that this lady, being ruined by the loss of her suit, had been reduced to the necessity of keeping a gaming-table. They met at her house, played, supped, and commonly one or two strangers staid and passed the night with Madame or Mademoiselle, as they had a mind. Madame de la Pommeraye sent one of her people in quest of these creatures. She found them out, and asked them to pay her a visit, though they scarcely recollccted be. These ladies, who had taken the name of Madame aud Mademoiselle d'Aisnon, accepted the invitation. After the first compliments had passed, Madame de la Pommeraye asked d'Aisnon what she had done, and how she lived, since the loss of her suit?" To be ingenuous," replied d'Aisnon, "I have been engaged in a profession which is dangerous, infamous, poor, and, to me, disgusting; but necessity is superior to law. I had almost resolved to put my daughter to the Opera, but she has weak a voice, and is but an indifferent dancer. I took her in the course of my suit, and after it was determined, to the houses of magistrates, noblemen, lawyers, farmers of the revenue, and tradesmen, who toyed with her for a time and then threw her off: yet she is as beautiful as an angel, and is pos sessed of wit and grace, but she has nothing of the spirit of libertinism, and protests to me every day, that the condition of the most wretched is preferable to hers; so melancholy has her situation rendered her that she begins to be deserted."—“ Could I suggest to you a mode of making a splendid fortune for both, would you agree to adopt it then?"-"With great pleasure."-" But I must know whether you will promise scrupulously to conform to the counsels which I shall give you.”—“ Whatever they may be, you may depend upon it.”~ "And you will be ready to obey my orders whenever I please?"-" We wait them with impatience."-" This is sufficient; you may return home; it shall not be long before you receive them.” Madame de la Pommeraye hired a small apartment in a decent house, in the suburbs most remote from the quarter in which d'Aisnon lived, furnished it as soon as possible, invited d'Aisnon and her daughter, and settled them there, prescribing to them the line of conduct they were to follow. "You will not frequent the public walks," said she, "for you must not be known. You will after to-morrow assume the garb of devotees, for it is necessary that you pass as such. You will resume your family name, because it is an honest one, and enquiries may sooner or later be made in your own country. You will spin, you will sew, you will knit, you will embroider, and you will give your work to the women who subsist on charity, to sell. Your daughter will never go out without you, nor you without your daughter. Neglect no means of edification which can be had at a small expence. You will keep up a good understanding with the curate and the priests of the parish, because I may have need of their attestation. You will walk in the streets with down-cast eyes; at church, attend to nothing but the service. "I grant that this mode of life is austere, but it will not be of long continuance, and, I promise you, it will amply recompense you in the end. Consider, consult your own feelings; if you think such a degree of constraint be yond your power, confess it to me; I shall neither be offended nor surprised." About three months had now elapsed since matters had continued in this situation, when Madame de la Pommeraye thought it time to put her grand springs in motion. One suumer's day when the weather was fine, and when she expected the Marquis to dinner, she sent notice to d'Aisuon and her daughter to repair to the Royal Garden. The Marquis arrived, dinner was served up early, they dined, they dined gaily. After diuuer the Marquis and his mistress took a walk in the garden. They were going along the first alley, when Madame de la Pommeraye uttered a cry of surprise, saying: "I am not mistaken, I believe it is they themselves!" Instantly she quitted the Marquis, and advanced to meet our two devotees. Mademoiselle d'Aisnon looking enchanting under the simple attire she wore, which, attracting no ob servation, fixed the whole attention upon the person.-"Ah! Is it you, Madam ?"-" Yes, it is 1."-" And how do you do, and what has become of you this age?"-"You are acquainted with our misfortunes; we were ob liged to acquiesce in them, and to live retired, suitably to our little fortune, to quit the gay world when we could no longer appear in it with decency."—" But me, abandon me too, whom am not of the gay world, and who have always had the good sense to consider it as insipid as it really is-How unjust! Let us take a seal, we will have a little conversation. This is the Marquis des Arcis, he is my friend, and we shall be laid under no constraint by his presence." They sat down, they talked of friendship. Madame d'Aisnon spoke a great deal, Mademoiselle d'Aisnon said little. They both talked in the style of devotion, but with ease and without affectation. Long before day closed, our two devotees departed. The Marquis did not fail to enquire of Ma dame de la Pommeraye who these two women were." They are two creatures happier than we are. Observe the fine health they enjoy! the serenity which reigns in their countenance! the innocence, the decency which dictate their remarks! You never see this, it is not under stood in our circles." Madame de la Pommeraye told the Marquis what she knew of the name, the country, the original situation, and the law-suit of the two devotees; adding to the account all the interest, all the pathetic circumstances she could devise. Shefthen continued:-" They are two women of extraordinary merit, especially the daughter. You may conceive that with a figure like here people may want for nothing in this place, if they condescend to employ that resource, but they have preferred an honest competence to a disgraceful pleuty. What they have left is so scauty, that in truth I do not know how they contrive to subsist. Now, Marquis, answer me truly, would not all our riches appear pitiful baubles in our eyes, were we more impressed with an expectation of the happiness, and a dread of the sufferings of another life? To seduce a young girl, or a wife attached to her husband, with the belief that you might die in her arms and fall at once into punishment without end; admit that this were the most incredible frenzy."-"This however is done every day."—"It is because people have no faith, it is because they banish these thoughts from their minds. It is because our religious opinions have little infus ence upon our morals." For a considerable period, the Marquis did not allow even a single day to pass without seeing Madame de la Pommecaye; but when he came, he sat down, he was silent; Madaine de la Pommeraye had all the conversation herself. The Marchioness, when she saw him, said, "How ill you look! Where have you been? Have you spent all this time in bedlam?” "Upon my faith, very near it. Despair has plunged me into the most unbounded liber tinism" Without saying more, he began walking backwards and forwards, not speaking a single word; he went to the window, looked at the sky, stopped short before Madanie de la Pommeraye; he went to the door, called his servants to whom he had nothing to say, sent them away again; he returned to Madame de la Pommeraye, who continued her work without taking notice of him. He wished to speak, but was afraid to venture. At last Madame de la Pommeraye took pity upou him, and said, "What is the matter with you? You leave us a month without seeing you; you return with a countenance like a ghost, and are as restless as a soul in torment." "I can forhear no longer; 1 must tell you all. I was deeply touched with the daughter of your friend; she occupied my whole mind, but I did every thing to forget her, and the Rore I did, the more she was present to my recollection. This angelic creature haunts me incessantly. Do me an important service." "What may that be?" "I must absolutely see her again, and I must be indebted to you for the obligation. I have placed my spies all around. They go no where but from their house to the church, and from the church home again. Twenty times I threw myself in their way, and absolutely they took no putice of me; I planted myself at |