mines of mercury and silver. The Fuggers were also empowered to coin and issue money of their own. Maximilian granted them patents of nobility; and in the beginning of the seven. teenth century the family numbered, in its five branches, fortyseven counts and countesses of the empire, all tracing their origin to the honest linen manufacturer, who had been dead scarcely half a century. The name and family, it is said, are still to be found among the German noblesse; but the living descendants of the patrician stock are reduced in fortune and influence proportionately with the city from which they sprang. The old family mansion in the High Street of Augsburg is still standing, and exhibits on its front brilliant modern frescoes, representing the visits of the Emperors Maximilian and Charles V., who were entertained within its walls. The Fuggers were a liberal, high-souled race, who did not value money merely for its own sake. They were exceedingly charitable, and founded several hospitals and alms-houses. An entire quarter of their native city was built by them for the accommodation of poor people at low rents, and still bears their name. They also did all they could to keep down the price of corn to its minimum point, in order that bread might be cheap. Valuable libraries were founded by several members of the family; and Anthony the Rich was the friend of Erasmus and one of the patrons of Titian. -FYFE.

KING ALFRED.

(A.D. 849-901.)

A PRINCE who gave very early marks of those great virtues and shining talents by which, during the most difficult times, he saved his country from utter rain and subversion. Ethelwolf his father, the year after his return with Alfred from Rome, had again sent the young prince thither with a numerous retinue; and a report being spread of the king's death, Leo III. gave Alfred the royal unction,-whether prognosticating his future greatness from the appearances of his pregnant genius, or willing to pretend, even in that age, to the right of conferring kingdoms. Alfred on his return home became every day more the object of his father's affection; but being indulged in all youthful pleasures, he was much neglected in his education, and he had already reached his twelfth year, when he was yet totally ignorant of the lowest elements of literature. His

genius was first roused by the recital of Saxon poems, in which the queen took great delight, and this species of erudition, which is sometimes able to make a considerable progress, even among barbarians, expanded those noble and elevated sentiments which he had received from nature. Encouraged by the queen, and stimulated by his own ardent inclination, he soon learned to read these compositions, and proceeded thence to acquire the knowledge of the Latin tongue, in which he met with authors that better prompted his heroic spirit, and directed his generous views.

Absorbed in these elegant pursuits, he regarded his accession to royalty rather as an object of regret than of triumph; but being called to the throne in preference to his brother's children, as well by the will of his father,-a circumstance which had great authority with the Anglo-Saxons,--as by the vows of the whole nation and the urgency of public affairs, he shook off his literary indolence and exerted himself in the defence of his people.

The merit of this great prince, both in public and private life, may with advantage be set in opposition to that of any monarch or citizen which the annals of any age or any nation can present to us. He seems, indeed, to be the model of that perfect character, which, under the denomination of a sage or wise man, philosophers have been fond of delineating rather as a fiction of their imagination than in hopes of ever seeing it really existing-so happily were all his virtues tempered toge ther, so justly were they blended, and so powerfully did each prevent the other from exceeding its proper boundaries. He knew how to reconcile the most enterprising spirit with the coolest moderation, the most obstinate perseverance with the easiest flexibility, the most severe justice with the gentlest lenity, the greatest vigor in commanding with the most perfect affability of deportment, the highest capacity and inclination for science with the most shining talents for action. His civil and military virtues are almost equally the objects of our admiration, excepting only that the former, being more rare among princes as well as more useful. seem chiefly to challenge our applause. Nature also, as if desirous that so bright a production of her skill should be set in the fairest light, had bestowed on him every bodily accomplishment,--vigor of limbs, dignity of shape and air, with a pleasing, engaging, and open

countenance. Fortune alone, by throwing him into that barous age, deprived him of historians worthy to transm fate to posterity; and we wish to see him delineated in lively colors, and with more particular strokes, that w at least discover some of those small specks and blemishes which, as a man, it is impossible he could be entirely exen But we should give but an imperfect idea of Alfred's were we to confine our narrative to his military exploit were not more particular in our account of his institutio the execution of justice, and of his zeal for the encourag of arts and sciences. The most effectual expedient emp by Alfred for the encouragement of learning was hi example, and the constant assiduity with which, notwithsta the multiplicity and urgency of his affairs, he employed self in the pursuits of knowledge. II usually divided hi into three equal portions: one was employed in sleep an refection of his body by diet and exercise; another in tl patch of business; a third in study and devotion; and t might more exactly measure the hours, he made use of b tapers of equal length, which he fixed in lanterns-an exp suited to that rude age, when the geometry of dialling, a mechanism of clocks and watches were entirely unknown by such a regular distribution of his time, though he labored under great bodily infirmities, this martial her fought in person fifty-six battles by sea and land, was during a life of no extraordinary length, to acquire more ledge, and even to compose more books, than most st men, though blessed with the greatest leisure and applic have in more fortunate ages made the object of their u rupted industry. Both living and dead, Alfred was reg by foreigners, no less than by his own subjects, as the gi prince after Charlemagne that had appeared in Europe several ages, and as one of the wisest and best that ever a the annals of any nation. -Hu

THE LIGHT OF HOME.

My boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam,

Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright,
lt dazzles to lead astray;

Like the meteor's flash 't will deepen the night,
When thou treadest the lonely way.

But the hearth of Home has a constant flame,
And puro as vestal fire :

'T will burn, 't will burn for ever the same,
For nature feeds the pyre.

The sea of ambition is tempest-tost,

And thy hopes may vanish like foam;
But when sails are shivered, and rudder lost,
Then look to the light of Home:-

And then like a star through the midnight cloud,
Thou shalt see the beacon bright,

For never, till shining on thy shroud,
Can be quenched its holy light.

The sun of fame?—'t will gild the name,
1 the heart ne'er felt its ray;

And fashion's smiles that rich ones claim,
Arc but beams of a wintry day.

And how cold and dim these beams must be,
Should life's wretched wanderer come!
But my boy, when the world is dark to thee,
Then turn to the light of Home.

DISCRETION.

-MRS. HALE.

THERE are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, there is none so useful as disaction; it is this, indeed, which gives a value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their proper times and places, and turns them to the advantage of the person who is possessed of them. Though a man has all other perfections, and wants this one, he will be of no great consequence in the world; but, if he has this single talent in perfection, and but a common share of others, he may do what he pleases in his particular station of life. At the same time that i think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable means of attaining them; cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed.

Discre

tion has large and extended views, and, like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon; cunning is a kind of shortsightedness that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance.

Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it; cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life: cunning is a kind of instinct that only looks after our immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only found in men of strong sense and good understanding: cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.

The cast of mind which is natural to a discreet man, makes him look forward into futurity, and consider what will be his condition millions of ages hence, as well as what it is at present. He knows that the misery or happiness which are reserved for him in another world, lose nothing of their reality by being placed at so great a distance from him. The objects do not appear little to him because they are remote. He considers that those pleasures and pains which lie hid in eternity, approach nearer to him every moment, and will be present with him in their full weight and measure, as much as those pains and pleasures which he feels at this very instant. For this reason he is careful to secure to himself that which is the proper business of his nature, and the ultimate design of his being. He carries his thoughts to the end of every action, and considers the most distant, as well as the most immediate, effects of it. He supersedes every little prospect of gain and advantage which offers itself here, if he does not find it consistent with the views of a hereafter. In a ord, his hopes are full of immortality, his schemes are large and glorious, and his conduct suitable to one who knows his true interests, and how to pursue it by proper methods. I have, in this essay upon discretion, considered it both as an accomplishment and as a virtue, and have therefore described it in its full extent, not only as it is the guide of a mortal creature, but as it is in general the director of a reason