world of such a tyrant.' Richard was pleased with the answer, and ordered him dismissed with a present of a hundred shillings; but no sooner did the king die than one of his generals ordered Gordon to be flayed alive. RICHARD THE FIRST. Character-Proud, cruel, covetous, and unjust; sometimes kind, and very cour ageous. Right to the throne-Second son of Henry II. the eldest son being dead. Death-1199, from an arrow wound, IN youth exalted high in air, Or bathing in the waters fair, Nature to form me took delight, And clad my body all in white; My person tall, and slender waist, On either side with fringes graced, Till me that tyrant man espied And dragged me from my mother's side No wonder now I look so thin, The tyrant stript me to the skin; My, flesh he flayed, my hair he cropt, At head and foot my body lopt, received while engaged in taking the castle of Chaluz. Possessions-England and Normandy. Line-Plantagenet. Remarkable Events-The holy wars in Palestine, where Richard spent several years of his life, and was taken prisoner while travelling, disguised as a pilgrim, through Germany. Robin Hood lived in this reign. A dreadful massacre of Jews on his coronation day. Richard from his courage was called the Lion-Heart. RIDDLES. And then with heart more hard than stone From me no secret he can hide, All languages I can command, I give command to kill of save; But while I thus my life relate, I only hasten on my fate. My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd, I hardly now can force I die unpitied and forgot, word; Leave thy fatherless children and I will provide for them. -ISAIAH. IN Madame de Genlis' Tales of the Castle, there is one of a most attached servant maid, who, after the death of a beloved mistress, for a long period labored unceasingly in order to amass a small sum of money necessary for completing a certain charitable purpose, contemplated by the dear friend she had lost. The story I am about to relate does not show such an entire self-renunciation as was practised by the French servant; but it is a proof of great kindness and steadiness of friendship, in one of a class considered in general little capable of the virtues she manifested, and is combined with circumstances of a nature to strengthen our faith in Divine Providence. I shall relate the circumstances precisely as I received them from an old friend, who is perfectly acquainted with the parties and particulars. Sarah was a servant of all work the last year or two in the house of a very task of watching the last hours of a worthy couple, who were attached to her fondly beloved wife and tender mother, for the steady propriety of her conduct, at a time when it was too evident that and her love to their children. Her the long struggling father was also on dress was neat without pretending to the verge of the grave. In fact his wife fashion; and though young, she never had become the victim of her love and desired to go out except to visit a mar- anxiety for him; and both parents, sensiried cousin who lived within an easy dis- ble of their situation, were consumed with solicitude for their children, so soon to be bereft of their parents. tance. Mrs. L. her mistress, was interested in this cousin; she was a woman whose manners were so much above her station as to give the idea that she had experienced early misfortunes. It appear ed that she was married to an excellent husband, whom she dearly loved; but he had very poor health, and only his. manual labour to depend upon, with three children to maintain; and their circumstances had of late obliged them to exchange a house which enabled them to let lodgings, for unfurnished apartments, to which they were removed. Notwithstanding this poor woman had much to do with her ailing husband and young family, she contrived to mend Sarah's clothes, and in many ways showed the excellence of her disposition, as far as she was concerned, so that Mrs L. though very sorry was not surprised when Sarah, on returning from visiting them, said in great agitation, her cousin was so ill, and so full of trouble, she must leave her place and go and nurse her.' Happily both were christians in deed as well as word, and they looked forward to a happy re-union; but bitter at times were the pangs they suffered. Sensible to the last Mrs Townsend intreated Sarah on no account to leave her family when she should be removed; and after receiving her promise, she departed in peace about a month after the poor girl came amongst them. When the funeral was over the poor man struggled to return to his work, though little able, but the late expenses urged him to make an effort: he was by trade a glass cutter, and so much respected by his master and fellow-workmen that every accommodation was allowed, and perhaps he might have got on a few months longer, if his eldest son (the darling whom his beloved wife had trained to be his more especial comfort) had not suddenly fallen dangerously ill: he died a fortnight after his mother, and from that time the father became incapable of leaving the house, or indeed his couch. It was a very serious inconvenience, but her good mistress threw no obstacle in the way of this labour of love; and Sarah had been very fond of this child, poor Sarah entered on the heart-breaking and his unexpected death afflicted her even more than that of his mother, and rested upon the hope it held out that his poor babes might be saved from a pollution which he dreaded more than poverty; and having thankfully received Sarah's reiterated promises of never forsaking them till they were provided for, he became tranquil, and even happy. Calling the poor children to him, he earnestly exhorted them to be good and obedient to all who should hereafter befriend them—to pray constantly to God, and look to the time when they should rejoin their parents, who had loved them so fondly, in heaven. The poor man died comforted and resigned; but bitter were the tears of Sarah when she laid him in the grave with his wife and son, six weeks after the death of the former, who had been 'taken from the evil to come.' The excellent character of the family, the awful rapidity with which so attached a couple had followed each other to the grave, drew the attention and awoke the pity of their neighbors, and particularly of their considerate landlord, who kindly promised Sarah that he, like her former master, would inquire for some situation likely to arise in any charity-school, to receive either one or both of the children. Mr L. was exceedingly interested by this unhappy man, who, sensible of his situation, earnestly sought to attain composure of spirit and resignation to the Divine Will. God has been merciful to me,' said he, 'in weaning me from the world before I leave it; and for myself I am ready to come when He calls, and thankful for that faith in my Redeemer which enables me to look forward with humble hope. But still my two little helpless children seem tugging at my very heart-strings, and drawing me back to the cares of the world;-poor lambs! there is nothing for them but the workhouse; and what bad company may they be doomed to live with?' what evil may they not learn? They have been brought up tenderly and instructed well; but alas, I know not what is before them!' Mr L. pointed out to the anxious fath er's consideration the numerous charity Literally to fulfil her promise of not schools in the metropolis, and assured forsaking the children, which included him that although he had little power also maintaining them, the boy being and few acquaintance, he would leave eight and the girl six years of age, was no means whatever untried to gain help the upright Sarah's sincere intention; for the orphans from these sources. The but how to compass this she knew not, unhappy father eagerly embraced this having no occupation, save that of a serconsolation; his anxious benighted mind vant, whereby to labour, and being fully aware that her wages could do little to- soon be taken from it as her brother had ward their maintenance. been. Three successive funerals, following long illnesses, had left the family in debt, which the sale of the furniture, as the honest man had predicted, would pay; but it was not likely to do more; and even this her most pressing duty could not be accomplished till they could remove. Sarah told the landlord she would be thankful to go into any room, and leave those they now occupied to be let to better lodgers;' but he answered, 'that for the next fortnight she was welcome to hold them rent free, and he would wait patiently for that which was due.' This was a great relief, and the poor young woman set herself diligently to work in so rubbing up the furniture as to increase its value, and in turning the clothes of the deceased to account for the children. The master of Townsend told her that if she could struggle to maintain the boy four years he would take him apprentice and keep him in his house.' This she considered a great comfort, and prepared herself to fulfil a mother's duties for that time, hoping that by one kind of work or other, in a poorer lodging, she might maintain him, either by charing, sewing, or nursing; and her more immediate care was the health of the little girl, who was a child of such a sweet temper and thoughtful disposition, with an understanding beyond her years, that without any apparent cause for fear Sarah concluded, as the phrase is, 'that she was too good for this world,' and might In pursuing this train of thought, she said to her one forenoon- Put on your bonnet, my love, and take a short walk. I dare say if you call on your little friend Emma, her mother will allow her to go with you.' The child did so, and when her companion joined her she said- Pray, Emma, let us go to the churchyard, and look at the place where my father and mother and dear brother James are lying.' The playfellow was willing to go; but on arriving there she stood at a distance whilst little Mary walked slowly round and round the grave in which mouldered the beloved forms on which her heart still fondly dwelt. Whilst she thus traversed the sacred ground a gentleman, passing the church yard, was struck by the circumstance of so young a child in mourning, though of a poor description, visiting the grave, and on seeing her leave it and join her companion he checked his steps and listened to what she said. Thank you,dear Emma, for coming with me here, it has been a dull walk for you; but I have had a comfort in looking at the grave where dear father lies. He does not suffer now.' In a very short time the playfellows parted, and the gentleman much interested in so young a mourner, inquired what was her name ?' Mary Townsend, sir.' 'Townsend! Townsend! your father's name, child?' What is |