Gustavus III., king of Sweden, passing one morning on horseback through a village in the neighborhood of his capital, observed a young peasant girl, of interesting appearance, drawing water at a fountain by the way-side. He went up to her, and asked her for a draught. Without delay, she lifted up her pitcher, and with artless simplicity put it to the lips of the monarch. Having satisfied his thirst, and courteously thanked his benefactress, he said:―― “My girl, if you would accompany me to Stockholm, I would endeavor to fix you in a more agreeable situation.” “Ah, sir,” replied the girl, “I cannot accept your proposal. I am not anxious to rise above the state of life in which the providence of God has placed me; but even if I were, I could not for an instant hesitate.” “And why?” rejoined the king, somewhat surprised. “Because,” answered the girl, “my mother is poor and sickly, and has no one but me to assist or comfort her under many afflictions; and no earthly bribe could induce me to leave her, or to neglect the duties which affection requires from me.” “Where is your mother?” asked the monarch. “In that little cabin,” replied the girl, pointing to a wretched hovel beside her. The king, whose feelings were interested in his companion, went in, and beheld, stretched on a bedstead, whose only covering was a little straw, an aged female, weighed down with years, and sinking under infirmities. Moved at the sight, the monarch addressed her: “I am sorry, my poor woman, to find you in so destitute and afflicted a condition.” “Alas! sir,” said the venerable sufferer, “I should indeed be an object of pity, had I not that kind and attentive girl, who labors to support me, and omits nothing she thinks can afford me relief. May a gracious God remember it to her for good,” she added, wiping away a tear. Never, perhaps, was Gustavus more sensible than at that moment of the pleasure of occupying an exalted station. The gratification arising from the consciousness of having it in his power to assist a fellow-creature, almost overpowered him; and putting a purse into the hand of the young villager, he could only say, “Continue to take care of your mother; I shall soon enable you to do so more effectually. Good-bye, my amiable girl; you may depend on the promise of your king.” On his return to Stockholm, Gustavus settled a pension for life on the mother, with the reversion to her daughter at her death. The Story of “Gander.” Let us understand each other at the outset, gentle reader. GANDER, as you will suppose, was not a _goose_; but you will be surprised to hear that he was a “_horse_.” Why the creature got this name, I cannot tell, unless it was that he was _white_, and was always a leader among the horses. But, however the name originated, the following is a true story of him, as told to me by a gentleman of veracity.