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it was determined, that the great Napoleon,he who had so long and so vigorously striven for universal empire,-should be conveyed across the wide ocean, thousands of miles distant from the scene of his former victories, and there be landed in a little rocky island,-the obscure, almost unknown island of St. Helena! There he was to live, surrounded indeed with every necessary comfort that he might require, and that enemies so generous, as he acknowledged the British to be, could grant; but without territory, without dominion, fallen from his high estate ; and though unfettered, yet
watched and guarded, -constantly reminded by all around him, that he was a prisoner, and that a prisoner he must remain.
The announcement was made to him, that such was to be his future lot; and however unwelcome the intelligence, Napoleon's only alternative was to submit. The voyage soon commenced, and the succeeding October found him safely landed in his island prison. He had there the society of some of his former friends who accompanied him; and he had too, every gratification which was consistent with his circumstances, as a prisoner; but notwithstanding these alleviations, the years of Napoleon's exile were years of unavailing sorrow and discontent. It was not, however, the rocky island,—the obscure spot to which he was now coufined,- nor even the guards that surrounded it, that formed the chief, the real cause of Napoleon's vexation. It is quite possible to be in obscurity, an exile and a prisoner too, and yet to feel happy and contented. I dare say you can remember an instance of one who was banished to a solitary island, (for a cause indeed far different from that which led to Napoleon's banishment,) and who found in that lonely spot such happiness as he would not have exchanged for all the treasures of the world. The reason of his happiness was,-his mind was at peace; and the reason of Napoleon's unhappiness was,- his mind was not at peace. For true it is that,
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. It was Napoleon's unsubdued will, which occasioned him so much unavailing discontent. His ambition was strong as ever, but the power of gratifying it was departed; and he had no higher principle, no better feelings to console him, and reconcile bim to his lot. He died at St. Helena, in the year 1821, after a captivity
of six years.
But it is time for us to leave the rocky isle of St. Helena, and to go back to our own happy land, now relieved from those wars which had so long disturbed her tranquillity,
but which had ended so much to her honour and renown. The lines which head our chapter, may have appeared hitherto not very suitable to the stories of battle and conquest of which I have been telling you. Indeed these matters have allowed us no opportunity of saying any thing aboui the good king to whom they allude with so much loyalty and affection. Let us now change our subject, and talk a little about him, and his private history and character.
During a great part of the reign of George III, he suffered from a mental malady which incapacitated him from managing the affairs of . the kingdom, and the government was then conducted, as I told you before, by his son George, Prince of Wales, as Regent. This circumstance of the illness of the king was deeply felt by his affectionate people; for perhaps no sovereign of England ever possessed so much of the love of his subjects as did George III. He was beloved as a man, as well as a king; for he was distinguished for true kindness of heart, and real benevolence of disposition ; qualities which are far more likely to gain the affections of a nation than mere political skill or military glory. There was a simplicity of manners and habits too in this good king, which particularly endeared him to the people. Sometimes he would lay
aside the state and dignity of a great sovereign, and mingle with the poor and ignorant, entering into their wants and feelings, and sympathizing with them, as if he would show them that he considered himself to be their father, as well as their king. And here I will mention one little anecdote which shows him in this point of view, and which I am sure will interest and please you.
The king was one day, according to his usual custom, taking a solitary walk in the neighbourhood of Windsor Castle. As he strolled along, he saw a little boy about ten years old, sitting on a wall, with a book in his hand, sometimes reading, and sometimes watching his sheep as they fed in the adjoining field. Now this boy was not one of those pretty rosy-cheeked children we sometimes see in the country, looking so bright and fresh that it is no wonder if they do now and then attract the notice of passers-by. No; there was nothing at all attractive in this boy's appearance. On the contrary, he was plain and unpleasing; and his manners were coarse and rough, as is indeed too often the case among the peasantry of our land, even in the present day, when they enjoy so many opportunities of education and improvement. But notwithstanding all these untoward circumstances connected with our little friend on the wall, he attracted the
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king's notice. Whether this was owing to the book in his hand, or simply to the desire in the king himself to do good to all his subjects, whoever or whatever they might be, I cannot tell; but so it was, that George III. stopped short in his walk, and thus began talking with the boy.
“What book have you there?” he asked. “The A B C book," replied the child,
. quite unabashed, for he was not at all aware who the questioner was. read ?” enquired the king again. “A little,
" was the answer. “ Well let us hear ; and so saying, the king took the book from the boy's hand, and began to examine him in spelling, very much as any master might do in a village school. “Can you spell words of two syllables?” “Yes, I think so." “ Well then,” continued the king, wishing to try him," spell abbot, and crimson." The boy spelt the words correctly, and acquitted himself to the king's satisfaction, and to bis own.
- Well done. That will be enough. Do you go to school? Can you read as well as spell ? and have you got a Bible ?” The boy said that his mother was too poor to send bim to school, and that she had only an old Bible, so much torn that it was of little or no use. “Ah, that is bad, very bad," said the king.
" What is your name, and where does your mother live ?” The child told his name, and bis