order of the Sultan he was conducted through the streets, mounted on a camel, and exposed to the insults of the populace. At this news the dervise ran for his stone; but after a moment's reflection he threw it into a well. I now see, said he, that one ought never to revenge themselves. When our enemy is powerful, it is imprudence and folly; when he is unfortunate, it is meanness and cruelty.

The Abbe de Vateville was a man of lively imagination, and of warm passions. Hearing, one day, a sermon on the fire of hell, he was instantly seized with the terror of eternal damnation. In order to mortify his unruly passions, he became a Capuchin friar. But, finding no sufficient mortification in this order he entered into that of the Carthusians.There he passed three or four years in a very edifying manner; but not being able to drive from his memory the pleasures of the world, he settled in the opinion, that to live in the world would be no obstacle to his salvation. Having laid a plan for his escape, he was seized by the prior in attempting to scale the wall. To disengage himself, he pulled out his knife, and laid the prior dead at his feet. In the inn, where he lodged that night, he had a quarrel with a young French officer. They went to the field in the morning, and the officer was killed. Vateville, inclining to enlist in the troops of the king of Spain his master, obtained letters of recommendation to several gentlemen in Madrid. At Perpignan, where he stopped some days, he debauched the daughter of his landlord, promising to marry her as soon as he should be in office. While he was soliciting employment at Madrid, he quarrelled with a cavalier on the street: they fought by moonlight: the cavalier was killed; and being found

to be the son of a grandee, our adventurer retired to a village where there was a nunnery, to the abbes of which he had letters of recommendation.He told her his adventure, and suggested to her the necessity of hiding till the matter should be forgot. The abbess received him with great civility, and permitted him to converse with the nuns at the grate. He fell in love with one of the nuns, young and handsome, who had been thrust into the nunnery against her inclination. It was not difficult to gain her heart; they made shift to meet sometimes without being obstructed by the grate. The intrigue being discovered, he was bitterly reproached by the abbess for his ingratitude. He shed many tears, and appeared to be a sincere penitent. Her advice was, that he should slip off privately; and she even gave him money for his journey. He wrote to his nun with an offer to marry her: she made her escape, and flew to his arms. They got to Lisbon without being discovered, where they found a ship ready to sail for Smyrna. He sold his horse, bought some merchant goods, and agreed with the captain for his passage. The captain treated him with great civility, chiefly on the lady's account, who touched his heart. She appeared so fond of her husband, that he lost all hopes; but he esteemed her the more on that account.

Having landed at Smyrna, Vateville was warmly recommended by the captain to his acquaintance. In this city the lady fell ill, and died, leaving her husband inconsolable. He set out for Constantinople, procured a commission in the troops of the grand seignor; and by his vigilance, activity, and insinuation, became the chief favourite of the Aga his captain, who persuaded him to turn Mahometan, as a sure road to preferment. He was warmly recommended by the Aga, and by his means, obtained

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a considerable post in the army. His appointments enabled him to purchase five or six female slaves, with whom he lived much at his ease. After passing seventeen or eighteen years in this indolent sort of life, his patron was disgraced, and turned out of office. Vateville found it necessary to take new measures. Resolving to leave a country where he had no longer any protection or hope of preferment, he wrote a letter to the pope, signifying, that he was stung with remorse of conscience, and that, with permission of his holiness, he was resolved to return to his own country, and die a good christian. other letter he wrote to the king of Spain, demanding an employment that would yield him eighteen thousand livres yearly, the same he enjoyed among the Turks. At the same time he wrote to the emperor's general in Hungary, that, upon obtaining a favourable response from the pope and the king of Spain, he would betray into the general's hands four thousand Turks who were under his command.The emperor being at that time at war with the grand seignior, gladly embraced Vateville's offer, and obtained for him all he demanded. Vateville led his troops into an ambuscade, and they were all taken prisoners. Vateville returned to Franche Comte, the place of his nativity, where he passed most of his time in hunting and destroying noxious animals. He was fond of good cheer; but bestowed on charity all he could spare from living. He settled pensions on two surgeons for taking care of the poor. He entertained two schoolmasters for educating the poor boys and girls in the neighbourhood; and he gave a pension to an advocate for assisting him in accommodating differences among his neighbours. He was both severe and sudden in his punishments; otherwise easy in his temper; a good neighbour, just and benevolent. It is reported, that

he died in firm hopes of paradise; being persuaded, that his sincere penitence would procure him God's pardon for his crimes.

At the siege of Namur by the allies, there were in the ranks of the company commanded by captain Pincent, in Colonel Frederick Hamilton's regiment, one Unnion, a corporal, and one Valentine, a private sentinel: there happened between these two men a dispute about a matter of love, which, upon some aggravations, grew to an irreconcileable hatred.Unnion being the officer of Valentine, took all opportunities even to strike his rival, and profess the spite and revenge which moved him to it. The sentinel bore it without resistance; but frequently said he would die to be revenged of that tyrant. They had spent whole months thus, one injuring, the other complaining; when, in the midst of this rage towards each other, they were commanded upon the attack of the castle, where the corporal received a shot in the thigh, and fell. The French pressing on, and he expecting to be trampled to death, called out to his enemy, Ah, Valentine! can you leave me here? Valentine immediately ran back, and, in the midst of a thick fire of the French, took the corporal upon his back, and brought him through all that danger as far as the abbey of Salsine, where a cannon ball took off his head: his body fell under his enemy whom he was carrying off. Unnion immediately forgot his wound, rose up, tearing his hair, and then threw himself upon the bleeding carcase, crying, 'Ah! Valentine! was it for me who have so barbarously used thee, that thou hast died? I will not live after thee!' He was not by any means to be forced from the body, but was removed with it bleeding in his arms, and attended with tears by all

their comrades, who knew their enmity. When he was brought to a tent, his wounds were dressed by force; but the next day, still calling upon Valentine, and lamenting his cruelties to him, he died in the pangs of remorse and despair.

Captain R. being taken prisoner by the French Indians, in a battle in North America, was carried to their town to be sacrificed in the usual barbarous manner. He was tied to a stake, and on the verge of the most cruel tortures, when an old Indian of authority starting up, reprieved him from death, and took him for a slave. His treatment was humane, and his servitude tolerable. A year and a half passed in this manner, when an engagement happened between the English and Indians. The old man taking the captain to an eminence, addressed him as follows: My friend! you see the men of your country are going to attack us. You have lived with me a year and a half: you came to me totally igno rant; but I have made a man of you. I have 'taught you to build canoes, to kill beaver, to hunt, and to scalp your enemy: are you not obliged to me? The captain expressing his gratitude, the Indian asked him, 'Have you a father?" I believe he is living,' replied the captain. Poor man! I 'pity him. Know I was once a father! My son fell at my side, fell gloriously covered with wounds ;but I revenged his death; I scalped and then kil'led his enemy.' Making here a pause, he proceeded: Behold that sun! with what a brightness it 'shines to you. Since that day a cloud has darken'ed all its radiance in my eyes. See that tree, (point'ing to a magnolia) which blossoms so fair for you; 'to me it has lost all its beauty. Go-return to your 'father. Let the sun shine with all its brightness for him, and the tree appear in all its beauty.'