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A dissembler must always watch himself carefully, lest he contradict his old pretensions; as he acts an unnatural part, he must put a continual restraint upon himself. The man who acts sincerely, has the easiest task in the world; he follows nature, and thus is put to no trouble about his words and actions; he has no need to invent pretences beforehand, or to make excuses afterwards, for anything he has said or done. Insincerity is a troublesome matter to manage; the many things that a hypocrite has to attend to, make his life a very perplexed and intricate affair. Truth is always consistent with itself, needs nothing to help it out, is always at hand, and sits upon the lips. A lie is troublesome, and needs a great many more to make it good. A liar requires a good memory, lest he contradict at one time what he said at another.

Sincerity is thus the most compendious wisdom, and the most excellent instrument for the dispatch of business, creating confidence in those we have to deal with, saving the labour of many enquiries, and bringing affairs to an issue in few words. On the other hand, whatever convenience may be found in falsehood or dissimulation, it is soon at an end; whilst its inconveniences are perpetual, bringing a man under everlasting jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed when he speaks truth, or trusted when he means honestly; nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor falsehood. All other arts will fail us; truth and integrity can alone bear us out to the last.

1. Has falsehood any advantage but that of appearing to be truth?

2. What is it to dissemble?

3. If we pretend to a good quality which we do not possess, what is likely soon to happen?


9. In worldly affairs, whether has integrity or dissimulation the advantage? 10. Why must a dissembler constantly watch himself?

11. Does truth ever contradict itself? 12. Does one lie generally serve the de

4. What mean you by the phrase "act-ceiver's purpose? ing a part?"

13. Is the person who has lost his char

5. What does truth carry along with it? acter for truth, believed even when he 6. To whom does it commend us?

7. What is God here called?

speaks the truth?

14. Can any of you relate the fable of

8. Give instances from the Bible of the shepherd boy and the wolf?

God's punishing liars.

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MANY of the trees are a hundred years old. The thinness of the rind of a St. Michael's orange, and its freedom from pips, depend on the age of the tree. As the vigour of the plant declines, the peel becomes thinner, and the seeds gradually diminish till they disappear altogether. Thus the oranges most in esteem are the produce of barren trees, and those deemed least palatable come from trees in full vigour. The number of the trees is increased by layers, which, at the end of two years, are cut away from the parent stem; the process of raising from seed being seldom if ever adopted, on account of the very slow growth of the plants so raised.

In Fayal, the branches, by means of strings, are strained away from the centre into the shape of a cup, or of an open umbrella turned upside down, a plan which conduces much to early ripening, as the sun is thus allowed to penetrate, and the branches to receive a free circulation of air. To shield them from the winds, the gardens are protected by high walls, whilst the trees themselves are planted among rows of fayas, firs, and camphor-trees. Without these precautions, the windfalls would do away with the profits, none of the “ groundfruit," as it is called, being exported to England. Filled with these magnificent shrubs, mixed with the lofty arbutus, many of the gardens presented an imposing scene

"Groves whose rich fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, and of delicious taste."

Azores, or Western Islands (Portug. Açores, Hawks,-the Latin word for hawk is Accipifer) a group of 9 Islands in N. Atlantic Ocean, 800 miles from Portugal, so called from the great number of falcons found on them. The principal are, St. Michael, Lerceira, Pico, aud Fayal. There are exported from St. Michael, chiefly to Britain, annually, 90,000 boxes of oranges, value £40,000.

One was especially charming, which covered the sides of a glen or ravine. On a near approach, scores of boys were seen scattered among the branches, gathering fruit into small baskets, hallooing and laughing, and finally emptying their gatherings into larger baskets underneath. Many large trees on the steep slopes of the glen, lay uprooted, either from their load of fruit, the high winds, or the weight of the boys. Besides, the fall of a tree might not be unamusing; and in so light a soil, where the roots are superficial, a slight strain would give it bias enough. The trees lie where they fall; and some that had evidently come down many years before, were still alive and bearing good crops. The fruit is not ripe till March or April, nor do the natives generally eat it before that time. The boys, however, that gather it, are marked exceptions. They are of a yellow tint, as if saturated with orange juice.

The process of packing the oranges is expeditious and simple. In some open plot of ground, you find a group of men and children, seated on a heap of the calyx leaves, or husks, of Indian corn, in which each orange is to be wrapt up. The operation begins. A child hands to a workman, who squats beside him, a prepared husk; it is snatched from the child, wrapt round the orange, and passed to the next, who, with the chest between his legs, places it in the orange box, the parties continuing the work with amazing rapidity, until at length the chest is filled to overflowing. Two men now hand it to the carpenter, who bends over it several thin boards, secured with a willow band, presses it with his naked foot as he saws of the ragged ends of the boards, and dispatches it to the ass that stands ready for lading. Two chests are slung on its back by cords, in the figure of 8; and the driver, taking his goad, and uttering his well-known cry, trudges off to


1. What do you know about the Azores? 2. How old are many of the orange trees?

3. What sort of oranges are produced by old and barren trees?

4. What kind by trees in full vigour? 5. What plan is adopted to increase the number of trees?

6. What means are used in Fayal to ripen the fruit early?

7. How are the trees protected from the winds?


8. What mean you by ground fruit? 9. Who gather the fruits?

10. When is the truit ripe?

11. Of what colour are the boys who gather the oranges?

12. What is the first step in the process of packing?

13. The second?

14. How many boxes are annually exported from St. Michael?

15. What is the value of these?
16. Where are they chiefly sent?

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PERHAPS you have heard of General Rafael Riego; he was well known during the war of independence in the Peninsula, and still better after he and Quiroga had headed an insurrection of the Spanish troops in the Isla de Leon, and set up against the despotism of Ferdinand VII.* a popular representative government. I was then a traveller in Spain, and saw the constitutional monuments erected in many of the towns and cities amidst the acclamations of the people. At that time Riego was absolutely the idol of the nation; he was a man of gentle manners, kind affections, and made to be loved. But in those political vicissitudes through which men almost always are doomed to pass when struggling for political change, Riego perished-perished on the scaffold. One of his aid-de-camps was an Irishman, named George Matthewes.

It happened that many Englishmen were engaged in these contests, which ended in the subjugation of freedom and the re-establishment of despotic power; and many of these Englishmen occupied the prisons of Spain. I was called upon to inquire into the fate of one of them, who was believed to be immured in the dungeons of the Spanish capital. I employed a banker of some influence to ascertain whether any Englishman, who corresponded to the description I gave of the party, was really confined in any of the jails of Madrid.

• Ferdinand VII. of Spain, born 1784, died 1833,

He could not be found, notwithstanding the most anxious and persevering search of my friend. But while he was engaged in his investigations, a dirty memorandum was put into his hand by a soldier who was guarding one of the condemned cells in which a human being had been long kept in solitary confinement-excluded from all communication, except such verbal conversation as, in opposition to the orders of his superior, might be charitably entered on by the soldier stationed at the door of the cell. No writing materials-no pen, ink, or paper-no means of intercourse with any person beyond the four walls of the dungeon, were ever allowed to the unhappy prisoner. The name of the prisoner was unknown to his guard; all he knew was that he had been captured with Riego, and confined in the cell adjacent to that from whence Riego had been led out to execution; but the soldier had mentioned to the prisoner that inquiries had been made about an Englishman of the name of Harper, and the answer had been, that no such person was within the prison walls. The prisoner entreated the soldier to convey the scrap of paper that he gave him to the gentleman who had been making the inquiries: he consented to do so; the banker received it, and sent it to me. It was signed George Matthewes." It was scarcely legible; but it stated that the writer had been long in solitary confinement, without accusation, without judgment, yet in apprehension of sentence of death, and that he was an Englishman. Mr Canning was then Prime Minister. I wrote to him immediately, and a dispatch was sent off without delay to Madrid, directing the British minister to claim the person who, without the forms of legal proceeding, had been thus arbitrarily detained. The intervention was successful, and the prisoner was released.


He accompanied the returning messenger to England; he brought with him the funeral momentos of Riego-the pockethandkerchief with which he wiped his last mortal but manly tears, and gave it to his widow. Poor thing! she was then drooping like a lily on its stem, fair and pure; and the weight of grief soon overwhelmed a broken heart, and loosened the silver cord of an existence attenuated by long disease. I remember her, a saint-like beauty, disassociated, as it were, from earth.

Matthewes brought with him one other treasure-it was a

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