fay, were bribes received by Eucrate; for Eucrate had the moft compaffionate fpirit of all inen living, except his generous mafter, who was always kindled at the leaft affliction which was communicated to him. In the regard for the miserable, Eucrate took particular care, that the common forms of diftrefs, and the idle pretenders to forrow, about courts, who wanted only fupplies to luxury, should never obtain favour by his means; but the diftreffes which arife from the many in explicable occurrences that happen among men, the unaccountable alienation of parents from their children, cruelty of husbands to wives, poverty occafioned from fhipwreck or fire, the falling out of friends, or such • other terrible disasters, to which the life of man is expofed: in cafes of this nature, Eucrate was the patron; and enjoyed this part of the royal favour to much without being envied, that it was never inquired into by whofe means, what no one elfe cared for doing, was ⚫ brought about. < upon I One evening when Pharamond came into the apart⚫ment of Eucrate, he found him extremely dejected ; ' which he asked, with a fmile, which was natural to him, "What is there any one too miferable to be "relieved by Pharamond, that Eucrate is melancholy?" "I fear there is, anfwered the favourite; a perfon with"out, of a good air, well drefled, and though a man in "the strength of his life, feems to faint under fome in"confulable calamity: all his features feem fuffused with "agony of mind; but I can obferve in him, that it is "more inclined to break away in tears than rage. " asked him what he would have; he faid he would speak "to Pharamond. I defired his bufinefs; he could hard"ly fay to me, Eucrate, carry me to the king, my story "is not to be told twice, I fear I shall not be able to speak "it at all." • Pharamond commanded Eucrate to let him enter; he did fo, and the gentleman approached the king with an air which spoke him under the greatest 'concern in what manner to demean himself. The king, who had a quick difcerning, relieved him from the op'preffion C 3 preffion he was under; and with the most beautiful complacency faid to him,'" Sir, do not add to that load of forrow I fee in your countenance the awe of my pre"fence; think you are speaking to your friend; if the "circumstances of your diftrefs will admit of it, you shall "find me fo."To whom the stranger:' "Oh excellent “Pharamond, name not a friend to the unfortunate Spina"mont. I had one, but he is dead by my own hand; "but oh Pharamond, though it was by the hand of Spi"namont, it was by the guilt of Pharamond. I come not, "oh excellent prince, to implore your pardon; I come "to relate my forrow, a forrow too great for human life "to fupport: from henceforth fhall alloccurrences appear "dreams or fhort intervals of amufement, from this one "affliction which has feized my very being: pardon me, "oh Pharamond, if my griefs give me leave, that I lay "before you, in the anguifh of a wounded mind, that you, good as you are, are guilty of the generous blood pilt this day by this unhappy hand: oh that it had perished "before that inftant!" Here theftranger paufed, and recollecting his mind, after fome little meditation, he went on in a calmer tone and gefture as follows:' "There is an authority due to distress, and as none of "human race is above the reach of forrow, none fhould "be above the hearing the voice of it; I am fure Pha ramond is not. Know then, that I have this morning "unfortunately killed in a duel, the man whom of all "men living I moft loved. I command myself too much "in your royal prefence, to fay, Pharamond, give me my "friend! Pharamond has taken him from me! I will "not fay, fhall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own fubjects? Will the father of his country murder his "people? But, the merciful Pharamond does deftroy his subjects, the father of his country does murder his peo. ple. Fortune is fo much the pursuit of mankind, that all glory and honour is in the power of a prince, be"caufe he has the diftribution of their fortunes. It is "therefore the inadvertency, negligence, or guilt of "princes, to let any thing grow into custom which is "against " against their laws. A court can make fashion and "duty walk together; it can never, without the guilt of a court, happen, that it shall not be unfafhionable to do what is unlawful. But alas! in the dominions of "Pharamond, by the force of a tyrant custom, which is "mif-named a point of honour, the duellist kills his friend whom he loves; and the judge condemns the "duellift, while he approves his behaviour. Shame is "the greatest of all evils; what avail laws, when death only attends the breach of them, and thame obedience to them? As for me, oh Pharamond, were it poffible "to defcribe the namelefs kinds of compunctions and "tenderneffes I feel, when I reflect upon the little acci"dents in our former familiarity, my mind fwells into forrow which cannot be resisted enough to be silent in "the prefence of Pharamond." With that he fell into a flood of tears, and wept aloud.' "Why thould not "Pharamond hear the anguish he only can relieve others " from in time to come? Let him hear from me, what they feel who have given death by the falfe mercy of his adminiftration, and form to himself the vengeance called for by thofe who have perifhed by his negliOC gence." No. LXXXV. THURSDAY, JUNE 7. Interdum fpeciofa locis, morataque rectè R HOR. Ars Poet. v. 319. Sometimes in rough and undigested plays ROSCOMMON, T is the cuftom of the Mahometans, if they fee any printed or written paper upon the ground, to take it up and lay it afide carefully, as not knowing but it € 4 may may contain fome piece of their Alcoran. I must confefs I have fo much of the Muffulman in me, that I cannot forbear looking into every printed paper which comes in my way, under whatsoever defpicable circumstances it may appear; for as no mortal author, in the ordinary fate and viciffitude of things, knows to what use his works may, fome time or other, be applied, a man may often meet with very celebrated names in a paper of tobacco. I have lighted my pipe more than once with the writings of a prelate; and know a friend of mine, who, for these feveral years, has converted the effays of a man of quality into a kind of fringe for his candlesticks. I remember in particular, after having read over a poem of an eminent author on a victory, I met with feveral fragments of it upon the next rejoicing day, which had been employed in quibs and crackers, and by that means celebrated its fubject in a double capacity. I once met with a page of Mr. Baxter under a Chriftmas pye. Whether or no the pastry-cook had made ufe of it through chance or waggery, for the defence of that fuperftitious viand, I know not; but upon the perufal of it, I conceived fo good an idea of the authors piety, that I bought the I have often profited by thefe accidental readings, and have have fometimes found very curious pieces, that are either out of print, or not to be met with in the fhops of our London booksellers. For this reason, when my friends take a furvey of my library, they are very much furprized to find, upon the fhelf of folios, two long band-boxes ftanding upright among my books, until I let them fee that they are both of them lined with deep erudition and abftrufe literature. I might likewife mention a paper-kite, from which I have received great improvement; and a hat-cafe, which I would not exchange for all the beavers in Great Britain. This my inquifitive temper, or rather impertinent humour of prying into all forts of writing, with my natural averfion to loquacity, give me a good deal of employment when I enter any houfe in the country; for I cannot for my heart leave a room, before I have thoroughly studied the walls of it, and examined the feveral printed papers which whole book. are are ufually pafted upon them. The last piece that I met with upon this occafion gave me a moft exquifite pleasure. My reader will think I am not serious, when I acquaint him that the piece I am going to speak of was the old ballad of the "Two Children in the Wood," which is one of the darling fongs of the common people, and has been the delight of most Englishmen in fome part of their age. This fong is a plain fimple copy of nature, deftitute of the helps and ornaments of art. The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, and pleafes for no other reafon but because it is a copy of nature. There is even a defpicaBle fimplicity in the verfe; and yet because the fentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to move the mind of the most polite reader with inward meltings of humanity and compaffion. The incidents grow out of the fubject, and are fuch as are the moft proper to excite pity; for which reafon the whole narration has fomething in it very moving, notwithstanding the author of it, whoever he was, has delivered it in fuch an abject phrase and poornefs of expreffion, that the quoting any part of it would look like a defign of turning it into ridicule. But though the language is mean, the thoughts, as I have be. fore faid, from one end to the other, are natural, and therefore cannot fail to please those who are not judges of Language, or thofe who, notwithstanding they are judges of language, have a true and unprejudiced tafte of nature. The condition, fpeech, and behaviour of the dying parents, with the age, innocence, and distress of the children, are fet forth in fuch tender circumstances, that it is impoffible for a reader of common humanity not to be affected with them. As for the circumftance of the Robin-red-breaft, it is indeed a little poetical ornament; and to fhew the genius of the author amidst all his fimplicity, it is just the fame kind of fiction which one of the greateft of the Latin poets has made ufe of upon a parallel occafion; I mean that paffion in Horace, where he defcribes himself when he was a child, fallen afleep in a wood, and covered with leaves by the turtles that took pity on him. Me |