They who forgive most shall be most forgiven.--BAILEY.
"A worthy old colored woman in the city of New York, was one day walking along the street, on some errand to a neighboring store, with her tobacco pipe in her mouth, quietly smoking. A jovial sailor, rendered a little mischievous by liquor, came sawing down the street, and when opposite our good Phillis, saucily crowded her aside, and with a pass of his hand knocked her pipe out of her mouth. He then halted to hear her fret at his trick, and enjoy a laugh at her expense. But what was his astonishment, when she meekly picked up the pieces of her broken pipe, without the least resentment in her manner, and giving him a dignified look of mingled sorrow, kindness and pity, said, 'God forgive you, my son, as I do.' It touched a tender cord in the heart of the rude tar. He felt ashamed, condemned and repentant. The tear started in his eye; he must make reparation. He heartily confessed his error, and thrusting both hands into his two full pockets of '_change_,' forced the contents upon her, exclaiming, 'God bless you, kind mother, I'll never do so again.'"
----Oh the tender ties, Close twisted with the fibres of the heart.
The night before the surprise of Georgetown, Adjutant Crookshanks, one of the enemy's officers, together with some of his commissioned comrades, slept at a public house. The next morning it was surrounded, and the Adjutant would have lost his life, but for the interposition of the landlord's daughter, to whom he was affianced. Awakened and, at first, alarmed by the firing without and the bustle at the door, and hearing her lover's voice, she sprung out of bed and rushed, half dressed, into the piazza. At that moment the swords of her countrymen were raised over his head, and she threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming, "O save! save Major Crookshanks!" Though made a prisoner, he was forthwith paroled, and left, for the time, with the brave and true-hearted maiden.
Genius, the Pythian of the Beautiful, Leaves its large truths a riddle to the dull.
"At the commencement of the Revolution, Mrs. Wright, a native of Pennsylvania, a distinguished modeler of likenesses and figures of wax, was exhibiting specimens of her skill in London. The king of Great Britain, pleased with her talents, gave her liberal encouragement, and, finding her a great politician, and an enthusiastic republican, would often enter into discussion relative to passing occurrences, and endeavored to refute her opinion with regard to the probable issue of the war. The frankness with which she delivered her sentiments, seemed rather to please than to offend him; which was a fortunate circumstance, for, when he asked an opinion, she gave it without constraint, or the least regard to consequences. I remember to have heard her say, that on one occasion, the monarch, irritated by some disaster to his troops, where he had prognosticated a triumph, exclaimed with warmth: 'I wish, Mrs. Wright, you would tell me how it will be possible to check the silly infatuation of your countrymen, restore them to reason, and render them good and obedient subjects.'--'I consider their submission to your majesty's government is now altogether out of the question,' replied Mrs. Wright: 'friends you may make them, but never subjects; for America, before a king can reign there, must become a wilderness, without any other inhabitants than the beasts of the forest. The opponents of the decrees of your parliament, rather than submit, would perish to a man; but if the restoration of peace be seriously the object of your wishes, I am confident that it needs but the striking off of _three heads_ to produce it.'--'O, Lord North's and Lord George Germaine's, beyond all question; and where is the third head?' 'O, sir, politeness forbids me to name _him_. Your majesty could never wish me to forget myself, and be guilty of an incivility.'