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The good old father suspecting something extraordinary from the painter's thus capitulating with

life, wheedled a poor man to suffer himself to be bound to the oross for an hour; at the end of which time he should be released, him, promised on his word to parand receive a considerable gratui- don him; which Giotto believing, ty for his pains. But instead of immediately told him where it this, as soon as he had him fast was, and attended him to the on the cross, he stabbed him in place; as soon as they had enterthe side and then fell to drawing.ed, he drew back a curtain which He was esteemed the greatest hung before the dead man on the master in all Italy at that time; cross, and told the Pope what he and having this advantage of a had done. The holy Father exdead man hanging on a cross be-tremely troubled at so inhuman fore him, there is no question but he made a matchless piece of

work of it.

and barbarous an action, repealed his promise, and told the painter he should surely be put to an exemplary death. Giotto seemed resigned to the sentence pronounced upon him, and only beg

As soon as he had finished his picture, he carried it to the Pope, who was astonished at his prodigy of art; highly extolling the exqui-ged leave to finish the picture siteness of the features and limbs, before he died, which was grantthe languishing pale deadness of ed him. In the meanwhile, a the face, the unaffected sinking of guard was set upon him to prethe head:-in a word, he had rep- vent his escape. resented, not only that privation The Pope having caused the of sense and motion which we call picture to be delivered into his death, but also the want of the hands, Giotto took a brush, and least vital symptom. This is bet-dipping it into a sort of stuff he ter understood than expressed: had prepared for the purpose, every body knows that it is mas- daubed the picture all over with terpiece to represent a passion or it, so that nothing could now be a thought well and natural. Much seen of the crucifixion; for it was greater is it to describe the total quite effaced in all outward apabsence of these inferior faculties, pearance. This greatly enraged so as to distinguish the figure of a the Pope; he stamped, foamed, dead man from one that is only and raved like one in a frenzy. asleep. Yet all this, and much He swore that the painter should more could the Pope discern in suffer the most cruel death that the admirable draft with which could be invented, unless he drew Giotti presented him. And he another, fully as good as the forliked it so well, that he resolved mer; for if but the least grace was to place it over the altar of his missing, he would not pardon him; own chapel. Giotto told him, but if he would produce an exact since he liked the copy so well, parallel, he should not only give he would show him the original him his life, but an ample reward if he pleased. 'What dost thou in money. The painter, as he mean by the original, wilt thou had reason, desired this under the show me Jesus Christ on the Pope's signature, that he might cross in his own person?' 'No,' not be in danger of a second rereplied Giotto; but I will show peal; which was granted him. Giyour Holiness the original from otto now took a wet sponge and whence I drew this, if you will ab- wiped off all the varnish that he solve me from all punishment.' had daubed on the picture, and

MIRACULOUS FLIGHT OF A

CRIMINAL.

In the country, last year, (1796,) says Madame du Montier, I was in company with a good friar, eighty years of age, from whom I had the following story:

The

the crucifix appeared the same in pose myself to its torture. all respects as before. The Pope friar yielded to the impulse of comwho looked upon this as a great passion, and it only remained to secret, being ignorant of the arts contrive the means of his escape. which the painter used, was rav- The chapel, where they were, was ished at the strange metamor-lighted by one small window near phose; and to reward Giotto's the top, fifteen feet from the great ingenuity, he absolved him ground. You have only, said the from all his sins, and the punish-criminal, to set your chair on the ment due to them; moreover, or- altar, which we can remove to the dering his steward to cover the foot of the wall, and if you will picture with gold, as a farther gra- get upon it, I can reach the top tuity for the painter. This cruci- by the help of your shoulders. fix is the original, from which the The friar consented to this mamost famous crucifixions in Eu- noeuvre, and having replaced the rope were drawn.-Walpole's An- altar, which was portable, he seatecdotes of Painters. ed himself quietly in his chair. About three hours after, the officer and executioner, who began to grow impatient, knocked at the door, and asked the friar what was become of the criminal. He must have been an angel, replied he, coolly, for by the faith of a priest, he went out through that About forty years ago he was window. The executioner, who sent for to a highwayman to pre- found himself a loser by this acpare him for death. The magis- count, inquired if he was laughing trates shut him up in a small chap- at him, and ran to inform the el with the malefactor, and while judges. They repaired to the he was making every effort to ex- chapel where our good man was cite him to repentance, he per- sitting, who, pointing to the winceived the man was absorbed in dow, assured them upon his conthought, and hardly attended to science, that the malefactor flew his discourse. My dear friend, out at it; and that, supposing him said he, do you reflect that in a an angel, he was going to recomfew hours you must appear before mend himself to bis protection; your Almighty judge; what can that moreover, if he was a crim-, divert your attention from an af-inal, which he could not suspect, fair of such importance?-True, after what he had seen, he was father, returned the malefactor, not obliged to be his guardian. but I cannot divest myself of an The magistrates could not preidea that you have it in your pow- serve their gravity at this good er to save my life. How can I man's sang froid, and after wishpossibly effect that, rejoined the ing a pleasant journey to the culfriar: and even supposing I could, prit, went away. Twenty years should I venture to do it, and after, this friar, travelling over thereby give you an opportunity the Ardennes, lost his way, just as of accumulating your crime? If the day was closing; a kind of that be all that prevents you, re-peasant accosted him, and after plied the malefactor, you may examining him very attentively, rely on my word; I have beheld asked him whither he was going, the rack too near, again to ex- and told him the road he was trav

paid for the service he had ren-
dered him, by the use to which he
devoted the life he had preserved.
He would not accept of any thing
as a recompense, but could not
refuse to stay some days with the
countryman, who treated him like
a prince. This man then obliged
him to make use at least of one
of his horses, to finish his journey,
and never quitted him till he had
traversed the dangerous roads that
those mountainous
abound in
parts.-Letters of Madame du Mon-
tier.

elling was a very dangerous one;
if you will follow me, he added, I
will conduct you to a farm at no
great distance, where you may
pass the night in safety. The fri-
ar was much embarrassed; the
curiosity visible in the man's coun-
tenance excited his suspicion, but
considering that if he had a bad
design towards him, it was impos-
sible to escape, he followed him
with trembling steps. His fear
was not of long duration, he per-
ceived the farm which the peas-
ant had mentioned, and as they
entered, the man, who was the
proprietor of it, told his wife to
kill a capon, with some of the
finest chickens in the poultry MRS WARE,

FOR THE BOWER OF TASTE.

yard, and to welcome his guest The following original and unpublishwith the best cheer. While sup-ed letter of Dr Franklin, was found in the per was preparing, the country-possession of a professional gentleman man re-entered, followed by eight residing in Halifax, N. S. Believing children, whom he thus addressed: that any production of his original mind my children, pour forth your grateful thanks, to this good friar; had would be read with interest, I beg leave it not been for him, you would not to present it to the public through the have been here, nor I either; he medium of your interesting publication. saved my life. The friar instant-I have sent it to you as a true copy, without the least alteration, in his simplicity of style and language. It is addressed to the Rev. Dr. Biles, with whom it is well known he corresponded.

A FRIEND.

Philadelphia, Jan. 1, 1788.

DEAR OLD Friend.

I duly received your kind letter of May 14th '87. I was then busily engaged in attending our General Convention, which, added to the ordinary current business of this Government, took up so much of my time, that

ly recollected the features of the speaker, and recognised the thief, whose escape he had favored. The whole family loaded him with caresses and kindness; and when he was alone with the man, he inquired how he came to be so well provided for. I kept my word with you, said the thief, and resolving to lead a good life in future, I begged my way hither, which is my native country, and engaged in the service of the master of this farm; gaining his favor by my fidelity and attachment to his interest, he gave me his only daughter in mar-I was obliged to postpone answerriage. God has blessed my en- ing many letters of friends, which deavors; I have amassed a little gave occasion of mislaying some wealth, and I beg you will dispose of them, and among those was of me and all that belongs to me: yours, only last week come again I shall now die content, since I to hand. I think I never received have seen and am able to testify what you mention, respecting the my gratitude to my deliverer University of Aberdeen, but the The friar told him he was well re- good will I might show on that oc

casion was not of importance Mr King an American traveller, thus spoke of her.

enough to deserve your respecting the acknowledgement. It was in me only paying a debt; for I remember with gratitude that I owe one of my first academical honors to your recommendation. It gives me much pleasure to understand that my points have been of service in the protection of you and yours. I wish for your sake that electricity had really proved what at first it was supposed to be, a cure for the palsy. It is however happy for you, that when old age and that malady, have concurred to enfeeble you, and to disable you for writing, you have a daughter at hand to nurse you with filial attention, and to be your secretary, of which I see she is very capable, by the elegance and correctness of her writing in the letter I am now answering. I too, have a daughter,

who lives with me and is the comfort of my declining years, while my son is estranged from me by the part he took in the late war, keeps aloof residing in England, whose cause he espoused; whereby the old proverb is exemplified: My son is my son 'till he gets him a wife; But my daughter is my daughter all the days of her life.

I remember you had a little collection of curiosities. Please to honor with a place in it, the enclosed medal, which I got struck in Paris. The thought was much approved by the connoiseurs there, and the engraving well executed. My best wishes attend you, being ever your affectionate friend,

and humble servant, Rev. Dr. Biles. B. FRANKLIN.

OMNIUM GATHERUM.

"We are but the venders of other men's goods.'

Hannah More.-This literary lady still lives at the age of 83.

'Being pressed for time, I spent only one day with her, though she repeatedly urged me to remain with her another. Her place of residence, called Barley Wood, is quite enchanting. She herself, like the olive, flourishes in old age. She is now in her eighty third year, yet possesses in a very great degree, the cheerfulness and vivacity of youth. As I took leave of

her, I began to express a wish that her life might be prolonged; but she checked me, saying, 'do not wish me that.'

This light article is a pretty fair illustration of the subject. We should suppose the author had been a pupil of the classical lecturer on the philosophy of light.

ON A YOUNG LADY WHOSE NAME

WAS LIGHT.

Light was the maid, in light array'd,

For light to her was given,
From light she flew, and lightly too
She'll light again in heav'n.
No northern light was e'er so bright,

No light could ne'er be brighter;
Her light-drawn sigh pass'd lightly by,
As light as air and lighter.

The lights divine, that lightly shine

In yonder lighten'd skies,
Can ne'er excel the lights that fell

Like lightning from her eyes.
She lightly mov'd by all belov'd

A light and fairy elf; Light was her frame and light her name, For she was light itself.

Bower of Taste.

NAPOLEON.

THE power and influence of Bonaparte over the French nation when he was in the zenith of his glory was truly astonishing! yet he was equally beloved and feared by his subjects, for they knew that a strict observance of their duties would be

rewarded, as also that the slightest dereliction from fidelity would be punished with

decay through the neglect of former sovereigns. His garden was a paradise of sweets, collected from every part of the globe. His court was the resort of beauty, bravery, and talent. Literature, painting, and sculpture presented him with their offerings; and his judg ment decided upon their merits; and worth and genius were ever rewarded by him with affluence and honor.

[Communicated.]

KELLY.

Tremont Theatre.-MISS The friends of this establishment will learn with satisfaction of the engagement of this accomplished vocalist; who will appear on Monday night in one of her favorite characters. The success which heretofore attended this lady's efforts, not only as a songstress but as an actress, warrant us in the belief, that during her present visit, she will meet with all the encouragement so justly her due. By the bills of the day, we perceive, that uncom mon exertions are making to bring for

the utmost severity. In any case of disaffection among this people, any little faction, that might arise during a temporary absence from them, the instant he shewed himself among them the spirit of discord was hush'd, and order, and harmony immediately restored. Well might France hail him as her tutelar genius! he disarmed despotism of her lawless blade -he banish'd licentious pleasure from the halls of regal splendor, and bade the courtly sycophants of royalty resign their honors to men of truth and integrity; he also wrought a revolution' in France-no longer did the grass cover the pavement that led to her Temples of worship,'he respected her religious rites and ceremonies, he revised her laws, and such as were just and equitable, were enforced and enacted with Roman firmness, and to these, suffering worth and oppressed innocence, plead not in vain for relief; who has done more to promote the glory and happiness of a nation than Bonaparte? he was a liberal patron of the arts, and sciences, he founded colleges and literary institutions, built hos-ward, in a style of splendor unparalled pitals for those who were disabled in the service of their country, and established charitable societies of every denomination for the relief of the distressed. In every instance he was a friend to the brave and a rewarder of virtue and industry. Agriculture and commerce flourished beneath his auspices, to facilitate which, he constructed rail-ways, opened canals, and built bridges which still remain as memorials of the interest he took in promoting the prosperity of his adopted country.

in this country, the melo drama of the Lady of the Lake. The new scenery, drops and decorations are said to be truly appropriate, and in perfect keeping with characters and events as described in the poem.

Extra talent, both in the male and female department, has been enlisted to give this magnificent spectacle all the effect, of which it is susceptible. And we trust, that a liberal public will remunerate the Manager in his praise worthy exertions to gratify the wishes of his pat

Paris, that region of taste and splendor, is also indebted to him for some ofrons. its most important improvements and magnificent embellishments. Bonaparte was a monarch and a hero, but he was also a scholar, and a man of genius. He venerated the classic vestiges of antiqui_ ty; he caused the splendid portico of the Louvre, and several other ancient buildings to be repaired that were falling to

To Correspondents.-We have received a rejected address which was written for the Salem Theatre. Although it possesses considerable poetic merit, it does not compare advantageously with the one selected by the committee for the prize.

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