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without giddiness and stupifaction into the vast abyss of eternal wisdom? Can a mind less than infinite perfectly comprehend any thing among an infinity of objects mutually relative? Can the channels, cut to receive the annual inundations of the Nile, or the Ganges, contain the waters of the ocean? Remember that perfect happiness cannot be conferred on a creature; for perfect happiness is an attribute as incommunicable as perfect power and eternity."

While the angel was speaking thus, he stretched out his pinions to fly back to the empyreum—and the flutter of his wings was like the rushing of a cataract.

STORY

STORY

OF THE

GRAND DUKE OF TUSCANY.

COSMO de Medicis, Grand Duke of Tuscany, concerning whom, on account of his prodigious wealth, it was rumoured that he had the art of transmutation. A noble Venetian, who, though he had but a small fortune, was extremely well recommended to his highness, (and by his polite behaviour added daily to his credit in that court) one day fairly put the question, and asked the duke if he had the philosopher's

pher's stone or not?

be

"My friend," said the duke, "I have; and because I have a regard for you, I will give you the receipt in a few words:-I never bid another do that which I can do myself; I never put off till to-morrow what may done to-day, nor do I think any matter so trivial as not to deserve notice." The Venetian thanked his serene highness for the secret; and, by observing his rules, acquired a great estate.

"Pardon me, madam," said Miss Wharton, "if I think you meant this little story for me, as you have frequently chid me for those faults mentioned in it; but in future I hope to shew you your advice is not disregarded, and that I also have found that philosopher's stone.”

"To acknowledge our errors is one step toward correcting them," said Mrs. Corbet," and I have no doubt of your future attention. As we have not now, my

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dear

dear children, more than a quarter of an hour until supper, I must proportion my story to the time, and will therefore relate you the Florist and Bull-bull.”

THE

THE

FLORIST AND BULL-BULL*.

AN ORIENTAL FABLE.

A FLORIST particularly curious in

roses, had in his garden a fine row of the bushes that bear that flower. On one of them grew a rose singularly beautiful, which captivated a Bull-bull: who fluttered round and made love to it. The inanimate rose making no return to his caresses, he at length grew enraged, tore it to pieces, and strewed the ground with its blushing leaves.

*A bird of song much valued in the East.

The

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