ed, I imagine, by passing a string or copper wire from one side to the other, between the hive intended to be taken, and that immediately in connexion with it.

Although the cost of these hives may nearly double that of the hive of ordinary make, they are nevertheless within the reach of every frugal Cottager; and it is to be regretted that the means with which an all bountiful Creator has blessed us should not be employed in producing a supply of honey equal to the demand; thereby rendering us independant of foreigners inasmuch as regards this delicious article of commerce.

I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,

J. C.

ANECDOTES.

THERE are two interesting historical anecdotes which beautifully prove the fact, that a cup of cold water only, given from genuine motives of humanity, or presented as a token of unfeigned respect, shall by no means lose its reward even in this world.The first is from Josephus.

Herod Agrippa, during his imprisonment in the dungeon of Tiberius, an Emperor of Rome, was one day in an agony of thirst; and, seeing a young slave pass by, carrying a vessel of water, implored that he would let him drink of it. The slave wil lingly, though doubtless with some danger to himself, complied. The captive monarch assured his humble benefactor that, when he regained his li berty, this good deed should not pass unrewarded: and he kept his word; he procured the slave his freedom; made him manager of his estates; recommended him in his dying testament to his heirs, Agrippa and Bernice; and history tells us, that Thaumastus, which was the name of this benevo

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lent slave, reached a good old age in that station of trust and repectability, to which he had been worthily raised."-The moral of this little tale Josephus could not, or would not, shew; it may, however, be discovered by the simplest follower of Christ. If a man, by no means remarkable for virtue, obeyed with such good faith the dictates of a grateful heart, and so recompensed the gift of a single draught of water, what may not he expected from the solemn promise of our gracious Master?

The other is a Persian story." It happened, on a certain day, that Artaxerxes Mnemon was making a journey, attended by his court. As the king passed along, his unexpected appearance greatly distressed a Persian traveller, Sinætes by name.This man, at a distance from home, was wholly unprovided with the means of presenting any one of those gifts, which the law required all subjects to offer to the Persian monarchs, on their royal progress, and with which he saw the surrounding multitude eagerly advancing. Respect for the laws, and, still more, reverence for his sovereign, filled him with anxiety; but he did not long pause or hesitate; he ran, at his utmost speed, to the adjoining river Cyrus; scooped up some water with both hands; approached the king, and thus addressed him :

King Artaxerxes, reign for ever! That thou mayest not pass by ungifted, I pay my duty with such materials, and in such a manner, as my case admits: I pay my duty with water from the Cyrus. Should your majesty deign to approach my dwelling, I hope to offer the best and richest gifts in my possession." Artaxerxes, filled with delight, addressed his subject in the following manner: "I accept your gift with pleasure: I prize it more. than the most splendid offerings; first, because water is, in itself, the most excellent of all things; and then, because this water bears the name of

Cyrus." The story proceeds; that Artaxerxes commanded his attendant to receive the water in a golden cup; sent to Sinætes a robe of honour, a golden cup, and a large sum of money; and commissioned the messenger to say, "The king commands thee, from this cup to recreate thine own soul, as thou didst recreate his, nor didst suffer him to pass, ungifted, and unhonoured; but honoured him as place and time permitted. And he wills, that drawing it with this cup, thou shouldst drink water out of this river."-Thus has history recorded the name, the act, and the reward of him, who bestowed a simple handful of water.Jebbs' sacred Literature.

P. P. G.

Extract from Lord Clarendon's History of the

Rebellion.

THE following particulars of the escape of King Charles the Second, after the battle of Worcester, are given by Lord Clarendon, who had them from the King himself.

"The King had not been many hours from Worcester, when he found, about him, near, if not above, four thousand horse. There was paleness in every man's looks, and jealousy and confusion in their faces; and scarce any thing could worse befal the King than a return to Scotland, which yet he could not reasonably promise to himself in that company. When night covered them, he found means to withdraw himself, with one or two of his own servants, whom he likewise discharged when it began to be light; and, after he had made them cnt off his hair, (that he might not be known) he betook himself alone to a neighbouring wood.

When the darkness of the night was over, he saw another man, who had gotten upon an oak in the same wood, where the King had rested, and slept

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Escape of King Charles the Second. soundly. The man upon the tree had first seen the King; and knew him, and came down to him, and was known to the King, being a gentleman of the neighbour county of Staffordshire, who had served his late Majesty during the war. His name was

Careless, who had had a command of foot, about the degree of a captain, under the Lord Loughborough. He persuaded the King to get up into that tree where he had been, where the boughs were so thick with leaves, that a man would not be easily discovered there. The King thought it good counsel; and, with the other's help, climbed into the tree, and then helped his companion to ascend after him, where they sat all that day, and saw many who came purposely into the wood to look after them, and heard all their discourse, how they would use the King himself if they could take him. This wood was either in, or upon the borders of, Staffordshire; and, though there was a high-way near one side of it, yet it was large, and all other sides of it opened amongst inclosures, and Careless was acquainted with the neighbouring villages, and knew many of the people of all degrees. The day being spent in the tree, it was not in the King's power to forget that he had lived two days with eating very little, and two nights with as little sleep, so that, when the night came, he was willing to make some provision for both, and he resolved, with the advice and assistance of his companion, to leave his blessed tree; and when the night was dark, they walked through the wood into those inclosures which were farthest from any high-way, and, making a shift to get over hedges and ditches, after walking at least eight or nine miles, which were the more grievous to the King by the weight of his boots, (for he could not put them off when he cut off his hair, for want of shoes), before morning, they came to a poor cottage, the owner whereof was known to Careless. He was called up, and presently carried them to a

barn full of bay; which was a better lodging than he had for himself. But, when they were there, and had conversed with their host of the news and temper of the country, it was agreed that the danger would be the greater if they stayed together, and therefore that Careless should presently be gone, and should, within two days, send an honest man to the King to guide him to some other place of security, and in the mean time his Majesty should stay upon the bay-mow. The poor man had nothing for him to eat, but promised him good butter-milk, and so he was once more left alone, his companion, how weary soever, departing from him before day, the poor man of the house knowing no more than that he was a friend of the Captain's, and one of those who had escaped from Worcester. The King slept very well in his lodging, till the time that his host brought him a piece of bread, and a great pot of butter-milk, which the King thought the best food he had ever eaten. The poor man spoke very intelligently to him of the country, and of the people who were well or ill affected to the King, and of the great fear and terror that possessed the hearts of those who were best affected. He told him that he himself lived by his daily labour, and that what he had brought him was the fare he and his wife had; and that, he feared, if he should endeavour to procure better, it might draw suspicion upon him, and people might be apt to think he had somebody with him that was not of his own family: however, if he would have him get some meat, he would do it; but, if he could bear this hard diet, he should have enough of the milk, and some of the butter that was made with it. The King was satisfied with this reason, and would not run the hazard for a change of diet; and he only desired the man" that The might have his company as often, and as much as he could give it him.”

After he had rested upon this hay-mow, and fed

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