"He now ordered some wine, which he had brought with him, to be administered with success: and the arrival of the doctor, who expressed hopes of her recovery, changed, I could perceive, the face of my friend; the joy of his heart shone forth in his countenance; and never did he appear in my eyes more worthy and more amiable. Happy Humanus! said I to myself; the rewards of virtue are sure. Thou already enjoyest those within thy own breast, and Heaven has still greater ones in store for thee. May thy laudable example become more universal! He repeated, frequently his visits to the humble dwelling; nor were those visits dropped till he saw there was little occasion for them: and the wife of the poor thresher is now recovered from a dangerous fever, as much through the sympathy of the good Humanus, as through the skill of the physician, his tender heart prompted him to send to her aid. She now lives useful to children; and her poor little Betty is no longer seen weeping on the village green, for the distressed state of her suffering mother. The flail of the father now awakens echo with the dawn of the morning, and he goes on with his work rejoicing; and the whole family is often heard to pray heaven's richest blessing on the head of their compassionate friend and benefactor. Such are the charming effects of beneficence, and, such the disposition of Humanus!" [Sidenote: Conclusion.] So finished our landlord his tale, and Sir Filmer prepared for bed. I shall only ask my young reader whether, upon a review of the two characters, he would be an Austerus, or an Humanus?--a sordid, selfish being, or one who possesses a generous, a heaven-born soul? If he would wish to be the latter, let him endeavour to make all around him happy, and frequently call to mind the distresses of human life--the solitary cottage, and the weeping orphan--for graceful in youth is the tear of sympathy, and benign its influence on the sons of affliction. [Illustration: FINIS] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Village Annals, Containing Austerus and Humanus, by Anonymous