arm, and thence entered the body of Indur, and mortally wounded him. He fell, but had the satisfaction of seeing his master remain lord of the field ; and the servants now coming up, made prisoners of the two wounded robbers. The master threw himself by the side of Indur, and expressed the warmest concern at the accident which had made him the cause of the death of the faithful animal that had preserved his life. Indur died licking his hand.

So generous a nature was now no longer to be annexed to a brutal form. Indur, awaking as it were from a trance, found himself again in the happy region he had formerly inhabited, and recommenced the innocent life of a Brachman. He cherished the memory of his transmigrations, and handed them down to posterity, in a relation from which the preceding account has been extracted for the amusement of my young readers.

SEVENTH EVENING.

THE NATIVE VILLAGE.

A DRAMA.

Scene--A scattered Village almost hidden with Trees.

Enter HARFORD and BEAUMONT.

Harford. THERE is the place. This is the green on which I played many a day with my companions ; there are the tall trees that I have so often climbed for birds' nests; and that is the pond where I used to sail my walnut-shell boats. What a crowd of mixed sensations rush on my mind! What pleasure, and what regret! Yes, there is some. what in our native soil that affects the mind in a manner different from every other scene in nature.

Beaumont. With you it must be merely the place ; for I think you can have no attachments of friendship or affection in it, considering your long absence, and the removal of all your family.

Harf. No, I have no family connexions, and indeed can scarcely be said ever to have had any; for, as you know, I was almost utterly neglected after the death of my father and mother, and while all my elder brothers and sisters were dispersed to one part, or another, and the little remaining property was disposed of, I was left with the poor people who nursed me, to be brought up just as they thought proper; and the little pension that was paid for me, entirely ceased after a few

years. Beaum. Then how were you afterwards supported ?

Harf. The honest couple who had the care of me continued to treat me with the greatest kindness; and poor as

VOL. II.

E

they were, not only maintained me as a child of their own, but did all in their power to procure me advantages more suited to my birth, than my deserted situation. With the assistance of the worthy clergyman of the parish, they put me to a day-school in the village, clothed me decently, and being themselves sober religious persons, took care to keep me from vice. The obligations I am under to them will, I hope, never be effaced from my, memory, and it is on their account alone that I have undertaken this journey.

Beaum. How long did you continue with them?

Harf. Till I was thirteen. I then felt an irresistible desire to fight for my country; and learning by accident that a distant relation of our family was a captain of a man of war, I took leave of my worthy benefactors, and set off to the sea-port where he lay, the good

me.

people furnishing me in the best manner they were able with necessaries for the journey. I shall never forget the tenderness with which they parted with

It was, if possible, beyond that of the kindest parents. You know my subsequent adventures, from the time of my becoming a midshipman, to my present state of first lieutenant of the Britannia. Though it is now fifteen years since my departure, I feel my affection for these good folks stronger than ever, and could not be easy without taking the first opportunity of seeing them,

Beaum. It is a great chance if they are both living.

Harf. I happened to hear by a young; man of the village, not long since, that they were ; but I believe much reduced in their circumstances.

Beaum. Whereabouts did they live ?
Harf. Just at the turning of this cor

But what's this I can't find the