continued, "many difficulties to encounter, in order to obtain this private audience, but be not deterred, and beware of suffering your secret to be drawn from you by the minister, or by any other person, as instant death would be the inevitable consequence."-The minister, as may easily be conjectured, did his utmost to get at the bottom of the secret, which the smith firmly refused to reveal, protesting that his life was at stake. He concluded with observing, that to convince him what he had to communicate to the king was not an idle tale, he might acquaint his majesty, in his name, that at the last hunt at Fontainebleau he had himself seen the ghost, that his horse had taken fright at it, and started aside, but that because the арparition had staid but a moment, his majesty had regarded it as a deception of the eye, and had, therefore, taken no farther notice of it.

This last circumstance struck the minister, and he now thought it his duty to inform the king of the smith's arrival at Versailles, and the extraordinary business which had brought him thither. But what was his astonishment, when, after a moment's silence, the monarch desired to speak with him that very day in private.

What passed at this singular interview was never made public. All that was ever known on the subject is, that the smith afterwards remained three or four days at court, and that he publicly took leave of the king, with his consent, when he was going out a hunting.

It was asserted, that on this occasion, the duke de Duras, the Captain of the life-guards on duty, said aloud :-" Sire, if your majesty had not expressly commanded me to permit this man to approach you, I should never have allowed him, for he is certainly a madman." The king with a smile replied :-" Dear Duras, how falsely we often judge of our fellow-creatures! He is more sensible than you and many others may suppose." These words of the king made a deep impression. The courtiers used every endeavour, but in vain, to discover the subject of the smith's interviews with the king and the minister Baobesieux. The people, ever credulous, and consequently partial to the wonderful, imagined that the taxes occasioned by the long and oppressive wars were the real motives of them, and hoped for a speedy alleviation of their burdens; but they continued till the peace.

The visionary, on leaving the king, returned to his own province. He was supplied with money by the minister, and was commanded to keep his errand a profound secret from every body whatever. Roullet, one of the first artists of the age, designed and engraved a portrait of this smith. The face

was that of a man between thirty-five and forty years of age; with an honest, open, though somewhat pensive look, and exhibiting what the French term a physionomie de caractere.

WARNING TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

An officer in the king's wardrobe, in Windsor-Castle, (as mentioned in the earl of Clarendon's history of the grand rebellion,) an honest and discreet person, about fifty years of age, when he was a school-boy, was much taken notice of by Sir George Villiers, the duke of Buckingham's father, who laid several obligations upon him.

This gentleman, as he was lying in bed, perfectly awake, and in very good health, perceiving a person with a venerable aspect draw near his curtains, and with his eyes fixed upon him, asked him if he knew who he was? The poor gentleman, after the repetition of the same question, recalling to his memory the presence of Sir George Villiers, answered, half dead with fear, he thought him to be that person. He replied, that he was in the right, and that he must go and acquaint his son from him, "That unless he did something to ingratiate himself with the people, he would be cut off in a short time."

After this, he disappeared; and the poor man next morning considered all no otherwise than a dream.

This was repeated with a more terrible aspect the next night the apparition telling him, "Unless he performed his commands, he must expect no peace of mind ;" upon which he promised to obey him. The lively representation of all to his memory strangely perplexed him: but considering that he was a person at such a distance from the duke, he was still willing to persuade himself that he had been only dreaming.

The same person repeated his visit a third time, and " reproaching him for breach of promise;" he had by this time got courage enough to tell him, that it was a difficult thing to gain admission to the duke, and more difficult to be credited by him; that he should be looked upon as a malecontent or a madman, and so be sure to be ruined.

The person, after a repetition of his former threats, replied, "That the duke was known to be of very easy access, that two or three particulars he would and did tell him, and which he charged him never to mention to another person, would give him credit." And so repeated his threats and left him.

This apparition so far confirmed the old man, that he repaired to London, where the court then was; and being known to Sir Ralph Freeman, who had married a lady nearly allied to the duke, he acquainted him with enough to let him

know there was something extraordinary in it, without impart. ing to him all the particulars.

Sir Ralph having informed the duke of what the man desired, and all he knew in the matter, his grace, according to his usual condescension, told him, that the next day he was to hunt with the king, that he would land at Lambethbridge by five in the morning, where, if the person attended, he would talk with him as long as should be necessary accordingly, the man being conducted by Sir Ralph, met the duke, and walked aside in conference with him near an hour; Sir Ralph and his servants being at such distance that they could not learn a word, though the duke was observed to speak sometimes, and that with great emotion.

The man told Sir Ralph, in his return over the water, that when he mentioned his credentials, the substance of which he said, he was to impart to no man, "The duke swore he could come to that knowledge by none but the devil; for those particulars were a secret to all but himself and another, who he was sure would never speak of it."

The duke returned from hunting before the morning was spent, and was shut up with his mother for the space of two or three hours in her apartments at Whitehall; and when he left her, his countenance appeared full of trouble, with a mixture of anger and she herself, when the news of the duke's murder was brought to her, (his grace being stabbed by one John Felton, a discontented lieutenant, when he was equipping a fleet for the relief of Rochelle, at Portsmouth, on the 23d day of August, 1628,) seemed to receive it without the least surprize, and as a thing she had long foreseen.

Sometime before his death, the duke had been advised by Sir Clement Throgmorton to wear a privy coat: the duke took his counsel very kindly, but gave him this answer: "That he thought a coat of mail would signify little in a popular commotion, and from any single person he apprehended no danger."

INSTINCT, AFFECTION OF BRUTES, &c.

SIR HARRY LEE'S DOG.

Sir Harry Lee of Ditchly, in Oxfordshire, ancestor of the Earls of Litchfield, had a mastiff which guarded the house and yard, but had never met with the least particular attention from his master, and was retained from his utility alone, and not from any particular regard. One night, as his master was retiring to his chamber, attended by his faithful valet, an Italian, the mastiff silently followed him up stairs, which he

had never been known to do before, and, to his master's astonishment, presented himself in his bed-room. Being deemed an intruder, he was instantly ordered to be turned out; which being done, the poor animal began scratching violently at the door, and howling loudly for admission. The servant was sent to drive him away. Discouragement could not check his intended labour of love, or rather providential impulse; he returned again, and was more importunate than before to be let in. Sir Harry, weary of opposition, bade the servant open the door, that they might see what he wanted to do. This done, the mastiff, with a wag of his tail, and a look of affection at his lord, deliberately walked up, and crawling under the bed, laid himself down, as if desirous to take up his night's lodging there. To save farther trouble, but not from any partiality for his company, the indulgence was allowed. About the solemn hour of midnight, the chamber door opened, and a person was heard stepping across the room: Sir Harry started from his sleep; the dog sprung from his covert, and seizing the unwelcome disturber, fixed him to the spot! All was dark; and Sir Harry rang his bell in great trepidation, in order to procure a light. The person who was pinned to the floor by the courageous mastiff, roared for assistance. It was found to be the valet, who little expected such a reception. He endeavoured to apologize for his intrusion, and to make the reasons which induced him to take this step appear plausible; but the importunity of the dog, the time, the place, the manner of the valet, all raised suspicions in Sir Harry's mind, and he determined to refer the investigation of the business to a magistrate. The perfidious Italian, alternately terrified by the dread of punishment and soothed with the hopes of pardon, at length confessed that it was his intention to murder his master, and then rob the house. This diabolical design was frustrated only by the instinctive attachment of the dog to his master, which seemed to have been directed, on this occasion, by the interference of Providence. How else could the poor animal know the meditated assassination? How else could he have learned to submit to injury and insult for his well-meant services; and finally, seize and detain a person, who, it is probable, had shown him more kindness than his owner had ever done? It may be impossible to reason on such a topic, but the facts are indisputable. A full length picture of Sir Harry, with the mastiff by his side, and the words," More faithful than favoured," are still to be seen at the family seat at Ditchley, and are a lasting monument of the gratitude of the master, the ingratitude of the servant, and the fidelity of the dog.

THE LION AND BREBE.

"I have been assured," says Chenier, in his Present state of Morocco,'" that a Brebe, who went to hunt the lion, having proceeded far into a forest, happened to meet with two lion's whelps, that came to caress him: the hunter stopped with the little animals, and, waiting for the coming of the sire or the dam, took out his breakfast, and gave them a part. The lioness arrived unperceived by the huntsman, so that he had not time, or, perhaps, wanted the courage to take to his gun. After having for some time looked at the man that was feasting her young, the lioness went away, and soon after returned, bearing with her a sheep, which she came and laid at the huntsman's feet.

"The Brebe, thus become one of the family, took this occasion of making a good meal, skinned the sheep, made a fire, and roasted a part, giving the entrails to the young. The lion, in his turn, came also; and, as if respecting the rites of hospitality, showed no tokens whatever of ferocity. Their guest, the next day, having finished his provisions, returned, and came to a resolution never more to kill any of those animals, the noble generosity of which be had so fully proved. He stroked and caressed the whelps at taking leave of them, and the dam and sire accompanied him till he was safely out of the forest."

CHILD SAVED.

A shepherd, who inhabited one of those valleys or glens which intersect the Grampian mountains, in one of his excursions to look after his flock, happened to carry along with him one of his children, an infant of three years old. This is not an unusual practice among the Highlanders, who accustom their children, from their earliest infancy, to endure the rigours of the climate. After traversing his pastures for some time, attended by his dog, the shepherd found himself under the necessity of ascending a summit at some distance, to have a more extensive view of his range. As the ascent was too fatiguing for the child, he left him on a small plain, at the bottom, with strict injunctions not to stir from it till his return. Scarcely, however, had he gained the summit, when the hori zon was darkened by one of those impenetrable mists which frequently descend so rapidly amidst these mountains, as, in the space of a few minutes, almost to turn day to night. The anxious father instantly hastened back to find his child; but, owing to the unusual darkness, and his own trepidation, be