THE

TWO FRIENDS OF BOURBON.

THERE were two men, who might be called the

PYLADES and ORESTES of BOURBON: the one was named OLIVER, and the other FELIX. They were born on the same day, in the same house, and of two sisters: they were nourish'd with the same milk; for one of the mothers dying in child-birth, the other took both the children. They were brought up together, and convers'd with none but each other. Their mutual love was like existence, which admits of no doubt; they perceived it incessantly, but, perhaps, had never spoke of it to each other. OLIVER once saved the life of FELIX, who piqued himself on being a great swimmer, and was near being drowned. This action neither of them remember'd. FELIX had a hundred times extricated OLIVER from dangerous adventures, in which the impetuosity of his temper had involved him, yet he never thought of thanking the other; they returned home without speaking, or talking of other matters.

When they drew for the militia, the lot fell on FELIX; OLIVER said-the other is for me. When they had served out their time, they returned home. More dear to each other than before—that I can't affirm; for, my dear brother, though reciprocal benefits cement friendships form'd by reflection, perhaps they are nothing to those I freely call animal and domestic friendships. At a rencounter in the army, a stroke with a faulchion was aimed at the head of OLIVER; FELIX put himself mechanically in the way, and received the gash: they pretend he was proud of the scar, but, for my own part, I don't believe it. At HASTENBECK, OLIVER drew FELIX from amidst the heap of dead that was left on the field. When they were question'd, they related sometimes the assistance they had receiv'd from each other-never that they had given. OLI VER talk'd of FELIX, and FELIX of OLIVER-but neither of himself. After they had lived a considerable time in the country, they both, at the same time, became in love, and both with the same girl; but there was no rivalty between them; he who first perceived the passion of his friend gave up his own pretensions. It was FELIX, and OLIVER married. FELIX, disgusted with life, without knowing why, plung'd into all kinds of hazardous enterprizes; the last was, to become a smuggler. You know, my dear brother, that there are in FRANCE four tribunals for trying of smugglers; CAEN, RHEIMS, VALENCE, and TOULOUSE, and that the most severe of the four is RHEIMS, where a man

named TALBOT presides, who has a soul the most ferocious that nature ever produced. FELIX was taken when arm'd, conducted before the terrible TALBOT, and condemned to die, as five hundred had been before him. OLIVER heard of the fate of FELIX. One night he rose, without speaking to his wife, and went to RHEIMS. He waited on the judge TALBOT, threw himself at his feet, and begg'd permission to see and embrace FELIX. TALBOT look'd at him, remain'd silent for a moment, and then made a sign for him to sit down. OLIVER sat down. About half an hour after, TALBOT pull'd out his watch, and said to OLIVER-If thou wouldst see and embrace thy friend alive, make haste; he is on the road; and, if my watch goes right, in less than ten minutes he will be hanged. OLIVER rose, transported with fury, and struck the judge a prodigious blow with a club on the back of his neck, that laid him almost dead on the floor, and then ran to the place. Down with the executioner! he cry'd-attack the officers!-He roused the people, already fired with indignation against those shameful executions. The stones flew about, and FELIX made his escape. OLIVER endeavour'd to retreat; but a soldier of the band had wounded him in the side, without his perceiving it. He gain'd the gate of the city, but cou'd go no further. Some charitable country people put him in a cart, and laid him down at the door of his cottage, the minute before he expired: he had only time to say,

-Wife, come near, and let me embrace thee !-I die, but FELIX is saved!

One evening, as we were taking our usual walk, we saw at the door of a cottage, a tall woman, surrounded by four small children. Her dejected, yet resolute aspect, attracted our attention, and our attention excited her's. After a minute's silence, she said to us-Behold these four infants; I am their mother, but I have now no husband! This intrepid manner of exciting commiseration was well adapted to affect us. We offer'd our contributions, which she accepted with decency. It was on this occasion that we learn'd the history of her husband OLIVER, and his friend FELIX. We have talk'd of her, and I trust that our recommendation has not been useless to her. You here see, my dear brother, that greatness of mind and noble endowments are common to all conditions, and all countries; that some men die obscurely, not for want of abilities, but a proper theatre to display them; and that two friends may be found in a cottage, or among the IROQUOIS.

You desire, my dear brother, to know what is become of FELIX. Your curiosity is so natural, and the motive of it so laudable, that we were a little scandalised at not having made any inquiry. To repair that fault, we thought at first of M. PAPIN, doctor in theology, and rector of ST. MARY's, at BOURBON; but our mother, upon reflection, gave the preference to the sub-delegate AU

BERT, who is an honest jolly fellow, and who has sent us the following account, on the veracity of which you may rely :

"The man named FELIX is still alive. When he escaped from the hands of justice at RHEIMS, he took refuge in the forests of the province, with all the intricacies of which he became acquainted while he was a smuggler. He endeavour'd to approach, by degrees, the dwelling of OLIVER, of whose fate he was ignorant.

"In the center of a wood, where you have sometimes walk'd, there is a collier, whose cottage served for an asylum to the smugglers; it was also the magazine where they deposited their merchandize and their arms. There FELIX retreated, not without danger of falling into the hands of the officers, who followed him by his track. Some of his associates had carry'd thither the news of his being imprison'd at RHEIMS, so that the collier and his wife, when they saw him return, thought themselves in the hands of justice.

"I shall now relate what I had from this collier, who died not long since.

"It was the children, who were rambling about the wood, that saw him first. While he stopp'd to caress the youngest, who was his god-child, the others ran to the cottage, crying-FELIX! FELIX! The father and mother ran out, repeating the same cry of joy; but the wretch was so harass'd with fatigue and hunger, that he had not power to reply, but fell into their arms, almost void of life.

M M