Poetry.

LINES ON COWPER,

AFTER READING HIS "ADDRESS TO HIS MOTHER'S PICTURE."

"So thou, with sails, how swift! hast reach'd the shore
Where tempests never beat, or billows roar ;
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distrest.
Me, howling winds drive devious, tempest-toss'd."

-Vide "Address."

And thou hast reach'd it! Canaan's peaceful shore !
Round thee life's tossing billows rage no more.
Thine anchor-hold was fix'd within the veil,
Though rudely Satan's tempests might assail.
And thou hast met her!-once so loved below,—
Before that throne, where saints and angels bow;
Thy lips o'erflow with rich melodious praise,
While, hand in hand, a grateful song ye raise!
No more to part!-forgotten all thy woes!
Earth's painful journey now hath reach'd its close.

The tears, that steep'd thy path through life's dark night,

Ne'er dim the glories of celestial light!

Sing on, thou victor! cloth'd in seraph white,

While o'er thy brow there gleams that crown so bright;

Still on Immanuel fix thine ardent gaze,
And still more loudly swell thy notes of praise!
Sing on! let His glad triumphs rend the sky!
None can be mute, who feel the Saviour nigh;
And saints below, with angel hosts above,
Declare his grace in ceaseless songs of love!

ELIZA THOMSON.

LOSS OF FRIENDS BY DEATH.

My friends, alas! how soon remov'd,
And I, bereav'd of those I lov'd,

Am left to mourn their loss !

How perishing is all below!

How full of change, and grief and woe,

And sin, the heaviest cross!

O may I learn from man to cease;
When shall I have an inward peace
To keep my heart and mind?

Though death's rough blast my comforts shake,
Though he my choicest friends shall take,
Yet peace in God I find.
Friendship divine my hope shall raise,
Exalt my mind, excite my praise,-
Nor will it ever fail:

When I death's gloomy vale shall tread,
My heavenly friend my steps shall lead,
And o'er my foes prevail.

With rapture, then, shall I unite
With those in whom I now delight,
While sojourning below:

What unknown joy when I survey
Beloved friends in realms of day,
And each distinctly know!
Pimlico.

R. H. SHEPHERD.

"HOPE TO THE END."

How sweet is the counsel, the voice of a friend,

In sorrow and sadness, O" hope to the end!"

If hope shall decay, in bereavement's dark hour,

RULES OF DAILY USE.

I. Begin the day with God; never neglect to make prayer first, and allow nothing upon any account to hinder your performance of this duty. Be devout, earnest, and serious. Be this your motto: "Begin with God." (Ps. v. 3.)

II. Expect trials; and seek strength for the trials, and grace for the duties of the day. (Deut. xxxiii. 25.)

III. Watch occasions of good to improve; and of evil to shun them. (Rom. xii. 9.) IV. Be not weary of well doing. (Gal. vi. 9.) Nor cease from striving against sin. (Heb. xii. 4.)

QUESTIONS TO ASSIST IN SELF-EXAMINATION.

I. Do I love God; trying always to please him, and fearing to offend him? (Luke. x. 27.) II. What end have I in view in all my pursuits? Is it the glory of God? (1 Cor. x. 31.)

III. How do I read the Scriptures? Is it with a sincere desire to gain spiritual knowledge? Do I pray for this? (Ps. cxix. 18.) IV. How do I pray? Do my prayers come from my heart? Are they sincere, and offered up in humility? Do I watch, and strive, and pray against wandering thoughts -against coldness and formality in prayer? (John iv. 24.)

V. Do I daily call myself to account for my daily sins-humbling myself before God with a broken and contrite heart-seeking through Jesus, and him alone, pardon and peace? (2 Cor. xiii. 5; Ps. li. 17.)

VI. Do I love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity? (John xxi. 17.)

VII. Do I love God with all my heart, and my neighbour as myself? (Matt. xxii. 37 -39; John xv. 17.)

VIII. Do I pray for, and desire the spiritual good of all, and seek to promote it by my consistent example, and by persevering endeavours? (Phil. i. 4; 1 Tim. ii. 1.)

IX. Do I order my conversation aright, saying nothing passionate, mischievous, or slanderous? (Phil. i. 27; Col. iv. 6.)

Prayer, reading the Scriptures, meditation, self-examination, spiritual conversation, and

If we turn not to Christ, and on Him rely,

If we hear not his voice-" Fear not, it is 1,"

O then shall our bark, frail, and frequently toss'd

On the ocean of life, midst its perils be lost;

But Hope is our anchor, the soul's steady stay, It is fixed upon Jesus in each stormy day. Pimlico.

R. H. SHEPHERD.

SPEAK GENTLY. SPEAK gently! it is better far To rule by love than fear. Speak gently! let not harsh words mar The good we might do here. Speak gently! love doth whisper low, The love that true hearts bind; And gently friendship's accents flow,Affection's voice is kind. Speak gently to the young, for they Will have enough to bear; Pass through this life, as best they may, 'Tis full of anxious care. Speak gently to the little child,

Its love be sure to gain :

Teach it in accents soft and mild,
It may not long remain.
Speak gently to the aged one;

Grieve not the care-worn heart;
The sands of life are well-nigh run,
Let such in peace depart.
Speak gently-kindly to the poor,
Let no harsh tones be heard;
They have enough they must endure,'
Without an unkind word.
Speak gently to the erring, know
They may have toil'd in vain ;
Perhaps unkindness made them so,
Oh win them back again.
Speak gently! He who gave his life
To bend man's stubborn will,
When elements were in fiercest strife,
Sald to them-" Peace-be still."
Speak gently !-'tis a little thing
Dropped in the heart's deep well,-
The good-the joy-that it may bring
Eternity shall tell.

of God to all those who use them aright.

READER!

Remember that Thou hast every day—a God to glorify-a Christ to imitate-a soul to save -a body to mortify-sins to weep overgrace to implore-a heaven to gain-a hell to avoid-an eternity to meditate on-time to redeem-a neighbour to edify a world to fear-passions to subdue-death, perhaps, to suffer and judgment to undergo.

"What manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness?" (2 Peter iii. 11-14.)

"Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." (2 Cor. vi. 2.) -Extract from a Tract of Short Prayers, by the Rev. Richard Shepherd, M.A., of St. Margaret's, Herts.

FORM OF PRESBYTERIAN WORSHIP IN 1638. (From M'Crie's “ Sketches of Scottish Church History.”)

HAVING described the external reformation thus effected, let us now take a glance into the interior of a Presbyterian kirk, and see how the public worship was conducted about 1638. At eight o'clock on Sabbath morning appeared in the desk the reader, whose office it was to read the prayers from Knox's Liturgy, and portions of Scripture, before the minister entered the pulpit. These readers were found so useful to the ministers,

that although the office had been declared by the General Assembly, to be without warrant, they were still allowed to officiate, and continued to do so till the Westminster Assembly, when, much against the inclination of the Scots Commissioners, they were condemned. The last relic of these ancient functionaries appeared in the practice, which was common till of late in some of the parishes of Scotland, of the precentor or the schoolmaster, reading some chapters of the Bible before the ringing of the last bell. Immediately on entering the pulpit, the minister kneeled down, and began with prayer, the people generally kneeling also. It was customary at some part of the service to repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Doxology; but, in other respects, the worship was unfettered by forms, the officiating minister guiding the devotion of his flock, as Justin Martyr describes those of the primitive Christians, "according to his ability, without a prompter." Prayer being ended, the congregation joined in singing a portion of the Psalms; a part of the service in which they took great delight, and in which they were so well instructed, that many of them could sing without the aid of a psalm-book. The psalm being sung, the minister offered up another short prayer, beseeching the influences of the Spirit to accompany the word preached. And then followed the sermon; which having been succeeded by prayer and praise, the congregation was dismissed with the apostolic blessing.

*

According to the form now described, public worship was conducted in the Church of Scotland from the Reformation down to the period of which we are writing; and it has continued, with a few inconsiderable variations, to be the form observed from that time to the present.

GROWTH IN GRACE.

CHRISTIANS may mistake their growth, and that in two ways. First, by judging of their case according to their present feeling. They observe themselves and cannot perceive that they are growing. But there's no reason thence to conclude that they are not growing. The seed springs up, and grows he knows not how. (Mark iv. 27.) Should one fix his eye never so steadily on the sun running his race, the sun moving nor the tree growing; but if or on a growing tree, he would not perceive he compare the tree as it now is, with what it in the heavens where the sun was in the was some years ago; and consider the place morning; he'll certainly perceive the tree has grown, and the sun moved. In like manner may the Christian know whether he be in a growing or declining state, by comparing his Secondly, present with his former condition. Christians may mistake their case by measuring their growth by advances of the not growing taller, he may be growing top only, not of the root. Though a man be stronger. If a tree be taking with the ground, fixing itself in the earth, and spreading out its roots, 'tis certainly growing, although it be nothing taller than formerly. So albeit, a Christian may want the sweet consolation under flashes of affection, which sometimes he has had; yet if he be growing in humility, self-denial, and sense of needy dependence on Jesus Christ, he is a growing

Christian.-Boston.

* From a curious document in the handwriting of find that "men, women, and children, were exhorted to ex

Calderwood (the historian of the Kirk of Scotland), we ercise themselves in the Psalms," and that "sundry musicians of best skill and affection, for furtherance of the

Act of Parliament anent the instructing of the youth in musick, have set down common and proper times to the whole Psalms, according to the diverse forms of metre."

BY THE REV. EDWARD IRVING.

THE profession of a minister of the Gospel brings him acquainted with human nature in every estate, from the highest to the lowest, and under those very points of view which exhibit its strongest workings and its extremest trials. The baptism of the children and the marriage of the youth, the visitation of the sick, attendance upon the dying and the burial of the dead, ministration to the poor, making of peace between enemies, and domestic visitations of every kind, lay open to the minister and pastor of the people fields of observation to which no annalist nor historian, no poet nor philosopher, no novelist nor sentimentalist, can by any means find access. This, which is true of all parts of Christendom, is so in a remarkable degree of Scotland, whose clergy have been (if they be not now) the only staff and stay of the people, in the want of such a nobility, gentry, and magistracy, as England can boast of. Till lately, self-seeking, the bane of the upper classes in Scotland, was no vice of the clergy, who, by the constitution of our Church, have little or nothing to find, let them seek their best, after they have been once settled as the ministers of a parish. They were wont (and are so often still) to settle quietly down amongst the people, and take a fatherly interest in the concerns of every soul within the bounds of their cure. Many generations of such devoted faithfulness have engendered a closeness and largeness of confidence between them and the people, which survives still, and I hope will long survive against a cold and sinful age, even if Scotland should not be favoured with days of revival and refreshing. Had I been wise enough to make these reflections some years ago, I would have registered the ob servations and experiences of my ministry as they occurred; and, while I carefully preserved a pastor's confidence, which is never to be violated, I should have possessed materials for representing the form of Scottish life, and giving entertainment and instruction to those who delight to observe the soul of man under all its moods, and struggling with the hardships and vicissitudes of its destiny. As it is, I must draw upon the stores of a memory, tenacious enough for the more remarkable events and the more tragical scenes of which I have been the witness, in some of which I have been an actor, in all of them a counsellor and comforter. And I would begin by relating, as it was told to me by one who was a sufferer,

THE LOSS OF THE ABEONA.

One night, when returning from the house of a friend, with whom I had sat late at supper, to my own lodging, in the city of Glasgow, where at that time my lot was cast, I was passing along the darkest part, commonly called the How, of the Gallowgate, and in the midst of the deep silence I heard a heavy footstep approaching me. We passed close to each other, when instantly the man stopped short, named my name, and took hold of my hand. Somewhat startled, but nothing alarmed, I said, “Who are you, friend, and where are you going at this hour of the night?" He answered, “I am James, and I am going to the Broomielaw to catch the first steam-boat in the morning, to take me down to the Abeona, which sails to-morrow for the Cape." This brought at once to my recollection one of our parishioners, whom, along with the elder of his district, I had visited some few days before, to converse and pray with him and his wife before their departure as settlers for Algoa Bay, in South Africa. "Well, James," said I, "and is this the last of you that I am to see in this world?" "I fear it, Sir," said James; "for my wife is already at the Broomielaw, and I have just settled all our little matters and parted with my friends, and we sail to-morrow. But, oh, Sir, I am glad to see you, and count it good luck that you should be the last man in the parish to shake me by the hand and bid God bless ine." "Well, James," I said, "grant it may be so fear his name, be kind to your wife, be honest and true, and fear no evil." And so, after lingering a while as loath to part, and having no interrup tion at that quiet and dark hour, we took our several ways, little knowing what should fall out before we met again

Towards the end of the same week I had occasion to visit a friend and brother-minister, at the mouth of the Clyde. While the steam-boat waited, to set out and take in passengers at Greenock, whom should I see standing upon the quay, with a little child in each hand, but my friend James: the instant I recognised him, I

again. "I did not expect to have seen you again, James, when we parted that dark night in the How of the Gallowgate." "The ship has been de

tained," said he, "waiting for passengers, who were to meet us here from different parts of the "And country; but we sail the next_tide."

whose children are these?" for I knew that he had no family of his own. "They are," said he, "amongst the youngest of a very large family from the townhead of Glasgow, who are going out along with us. There are eight of them, besides and while their mother and my wife are gone into their father and mother. It is a great charge; the town to purchase some small articles before we sail, I have taken the charge of them." "Poor dear children," I said, and took them in my arms, and gave them some little money, which their mother might lay out for their comfort. "Poor things," said James, "they little know what is before them." And never spake he a truer word; for there was before them, in a few weeks, the loss of father and mother, and brother and sister. Oh, it grieves me still, whenever I think upon it, Scotland, and what I that day saw upon the quay to remember what I have seen in all parts of of Greenock, the heavy-hearted emigrants loitering about with such cheerless looks, with all the little store of their cottages lying in confusion around them. I question whether aught can make up to their country the loss of such a peasantry as I have seen depart by ship-loads

from her shores.

At the interval of many months, on a Sabbath night, after preaching to the people, when they were all dismissed and scattered on their several ways, as I was coming from the Session House, I observed a man standing by the wall of the church, said, taking my hand, "Oh, how glad I am to see as it were, to speak to me, who stopped me, and parted." In a moment, I recollected my old you again, Sir! Much, much has passed since we friend, whom, since the accounts had arrived that the Abeona was burnt at sea, I had never expected to meet again. I answered, "If you be glad to James, in the land of the living and the place of see me, how much gladder should I be to see you, hope and your wife?"-"Ali, Sir, she is no more" and he was proceeding to tell me the tale of his calamity, and his wife's tragical end, when I interrupted him, saying, “Be of good comfort, James: but this is both too long and too

sore a matter for street conversation. Come with then you will tell it me at your leisure. It is the me into my lodging; take some refreshment, and best night in the week for conversing of such an awful providence, and no time so fit as now, when we have been worshipping together in His house." So we went our way.

reconciled to our narrow quarters, and were proceeding full of cheerfulness and hope. After breakfast, it was our custom all to meet upon the deck and talk together of our home and friends, and lay plans for the management of our little colony when we should be landed at Algoa Bay. The sailors were very kind, and communicative of all they knew concerning foreign parts; and the children running about the deck gave an innocent liveliness to the whole scene. Our wives, after they had sorted our cabins, would come and take their work in their hand; and everything wore a pleasant and even joyful aspect."

"Little do we know, James," said I, "what is before us: in the midst of life we are in death. It is a kind providence which hath hidden from us the future; and that is a good word, 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' You will excuse my interrupting you, but I cannot repress my emotion; and you know it is my office to interpret and improve the events of Divine Providence. Now proceed with your story, and be as particular and circumstantial as you can, for I wish to know it all."

"Well, Sir," continued he, "when we were got a third way on our voyage, and were now in the midst of the wide Atlantic, many days' sail from any land, one morning, when the full complement of our people, passengers and all, were upon the deck, enjoying the cool breeze and the fresh sea, our ears were stunned and our hearts appalled with a wild and fearful cry of Fire in the spirit room!" It appeared that our mate, most innocently but inadvertently-(poor fellow! he afterwards sacrificed himself to the shame and grief of it)-had taken a candle into the spirit room and let it drop out of his hand into an open cask of rum, which instantly blazed up and caught the surrounding matters. No tongue can tell the wild dismay which arose throughout the people at this fearful cry, and at the sight of the flames bursting out in the after part of the ship. Women ran to and fro seeking their children, wives their husbands, fathers collecting their families, and friends looking for their friends; and the seainen, naturally so steady and obedient in all trials, wanted, in the captain, a man of sufficient presence of mind and resource for such a moment. He seemed himself to have been panicstruck, and the mate, poor fellow, was utterly unmanned by the sense of what he had done, and ready almost to destroy himself. This, added to the wild cries of the women and the screams of the children, the crowded decks, and the hurrying hither and thither, drove the captain to the hasty resolution of abandoning the ship altogether, and taking to the boats. It was a sore pity, Sir, for had we been under proper direction, I was per suaded at the time, and am still, that we might have got the fire under: we were so many hands that we could have kept all the buckets on board in continual play, passing, like streams of water, from the ship's edge to the seat of the fire. But there was no one to take the guidance, and all went to confusion amongst our hands: the fire gained upon us, and the distraction became more and more outrageous. Yet some of us were pos

As we walked together through one or two streets, which lay between the church and my abode, I asked him when he had arrived, and what he had been doing since he came home. "I came but yesterday," said he, "and went directly to Mr. F. 's, the elder's, to tell him what had befallen me; and now, Sir, I thought it better not to say any thing to you till the duties of the Sabbath were over, lest you might have been dis-sessed of presence of mind, and myself among the composed by what I have to tell you." I made no reply; but thought within myself what a noble tribute this is to the office of a Scottish elder, and to the character of that indefatigable man of God, the elder of the proportion in which James and his wife had lived, that a forlorn, cast away, ship wrecked man should seek his first shelter and consolation in his house. It was the custom of that elder, and I believe it is so still, to leave the business of the world, and spend some hours of every day in ministering instruction, and consolation, and help to the people, whose overseer the Church had appointed him to be. Whilst these reflections were passing through my mind, we had arrived at my humble habitation, when, after James had refreshed himself with meat, he proceeded with his narrative, which I shall relate as nearly in his own words as at this distance of nine or ten years I can remember, and certainly to his particulars I shall not venture to add anything. "We sailed," said James, "the very next tide after you parted with me and the little children upon the quay of Greenock, and, though I am not superstitious, I wish my wife and the rest of the Barrys had been there to receive your blessing as well as we: for, Sir, they perished in that fearful night, while I and these two little children were preserved. When we had got clear of the narrow seas and looked our last farewell to the land of our

fathers, we had fine weather and favourable winds, and were making great speed upon our voyage. Our sickness had worn off, we had got

rest, with Barry, the father of the children, who, when we saw the captain and the men drawing away to the boats, ventured to remonstrate against the cruelty of forsaking the ship with so many living souls in her, men, women, and chil dren,-to perish between fire and water. But our remonstrances availed nothing. We then insisted that the long-boat, which was lying in the booms along the deck, should be hoisted out, and as many of us saved as possible. But even this was refused, under the influence of a panic-fear, that there was not time left for getting it afloat. Indeed, Sir, fear and panic seemed to possess those who ought to have been the guardians of our lives. One man, indeed, was of a stouter and more generous spirit; but he had been the author of the calamity, and was overwhelmed with the feeling of the evil which he had done; he scorned to take his life, after having been the means of bringing so many lives into jeopardy, and, as it turned out, to an untimely end. This generousminded, but rash man, remained amongst us, and coolly waited that destruction which he had brought upon so many."

men suf

"I have often observed, James, that in the calamitous events of Divine Providence, fer more from the effect of their excited passions than from the accident itself: and it is always found to be so when there are many people gathered together into one place: as the anatomists tell us, that very often the bones are broken by the sudden action of the muscles, to

draw the body out of some impending danger. I am glad you were able to shew the calmness of a Christian's faith at such a trying moment." "Truly, Reverend Sir, I had need of all my faith, and of all the wholesome instructions which I have heard from your mouth, when my poor wife was hanging about me, and Barry's wife and his eight children at our side. When we saw that our captain and the seamen were no better than those heathens with whom Paul sailed, and were about to flee out of the ship, we stood and entreated them that they would take at least some of us on board, and save whom they could. They listened to us (for, to do the men justice, it was not want of humanity so much as the absence of all government and direction, which led them astray), and they offered to take as many on board as the boats would carry. Instantly we gave place to the family of the Barrys, of whom there were ten, father, mother, and eight children. The father took his place by the side of the ship, and the mother handed the children to him; and I could not but observe the force of natural affection leading her to begin with the youngest, then the next, and so ascending upwards, till she came to the eldest daughter, just arrived at the maturity of womanhood. The boats not being able to contain more, pushed off, and left us to our fate. For a moment we seemed to forget our misery in the safety of these children: the father, and the mother, and the daughter seemed now content to perish."

"James, you make me weep: was it even so, that at such a moment paternal affection stood so true; and that these two children, whom I kissed and blessed upon the quay of Greenock, were thus wondrously preserved? I will not forget this, James; I will preach of it to the people. Now I pray you to recall every circumstance connected with that direful event; I feel it to be so very instructive."

"Indeed, Sir, it comforts my heart to tell it to one who has so much patience and pity; and I will relate everything with which I can charge my memory. When we were left to ourselves, those of us who had most presence of mind and self-command, myself among the number (for I was a little practised about boats in my youth), set ourselves to hoist out the long-boat, believing that if we could succeed, the greater part of us might yet be saved. We got up a tackle, strained every nerve, and exhausted every invention, as men contending between life and death; and we had succeeded so far as to raise her to the very level of the gunwale, when, to our inexpressible horror, the fire took the ropes connected with our tackle, and down it came, disappointing our hopes, and sealing the fate of all who had not escaped in the boats."

Except yourself, James; and how were you delivered from the two elements of fire and water, contending for your destruction. It seems as if all hopes were goue; and yet I see you and hear you. By what wonderful providence did you escape?"

"About this time darkness began to set in, and we were parted from the sight of the boats, and left to the contemplation of the miserable end which awaited us. The fire was gaining fast upon us, and forcing us towards the fore-part of the ship, where we stood crowded together like sheep penned for the slaughter. When I look back, and present to my mind the image of the scene; the flaming ship on which we stood, the red glare of light cast upon our horror-struck countenances; the sea gleaming and glistering with our deathfires, and yawning to receive the burning pile aud its doomed victims, I wonder at the presence of mind which was given to me at that hour, and the means which I was able to take for my own and my wife's preservation. I took her by the hard, and having spoken some few words to comfort her, and to explain the plan which I had conceived, I placed her in the fore chains of the ship, the farthest possible from the fire. Before it became dark, I had observed several pieces of wreck floating about; to reach one of these, and carry my wife to it, seemed to afford the only possible chance, however slender, of escape. In this mind, having placed her in safety, I betook myself to swimming; and after a while found what I desired. With this slender succour I returned; and having got my wife upon it the best way I could, I wrought it out of the wake of the burning ship, until we seemed beyond the reach of the conflagration. Had I now rested content, and attempted no more for her safety, I should have had no reflection upon my mind concerning my poor wife, we should have lived or perished together; but I did it for the best, though I lost

by it one who was dearer to me than my own life."

"I am very sorry for you, James; these tears and your present agitation shew me what I knew already, that you both loved your wife, and would willingly have perished for her; but it was otherwise ordered of God; and it is our part meekly to submit to his decree. Compose yourself and proceed."

"The piece of wreck on which she was seated was not able to bear us both up; and I felt that unless some more support could be procured, my strength must soon fail, and one or both of us perish. To procure this was now my care; and having instructed my wife to preserve her mind composed, and keep her seat steadily upon the piece of wood, I betook myself again to the open sea, in search of more wreck. This time I was not so fortunate as before; and after wearying myself in vain, I sought to return to my poor wife: but whether she had drifted away from the place where I had left her, or whether my mind, confused by the terrors of the scene, and the screams which came from the burning ship, had lost all aim, it is too certain that I could never find her again; and though I called her name aloud with all my strength, no answer was returned. Thus deprived of her whom my soul loved, I was ready to fold my hands in despair, and resign myself to the mercy of my Creator; but the hope still lingered that I might yet find her in the darkness, and, breathing a prayer for strength, I continued my controversy for life. The night was calm, and the smooth sea favoured much my swimming, and I sometimes felt as if I had received strength beyond my own, for I never thought I could have sustained myself so long. While I was thus without direction of any kind, bearing myself up among the dark waters, careful only to keep away from the burning ship, and the voices of misery which ever and anon came floating towards me, straining my eyes and ears to see or hear any thing which might lead me to her whom I blamed myself for forsaking, I seemed to hear the sound of a ripple, as upon the side of something floating in the water. Following this sound, I swam towards it, thinking it might be either the piece of wreck which bore my wife, or some other thing whereon I might rest my weary limbs. But what was my surprise, when, upon coming close beside it. I found it to be the ship's boat, deeply laden with the people. I was worn out, and laying my hand upon the side of the boat, I prayed them, for the love of God, to take me in and save my life. With difficulty they made room for me, and thus was I preserved from a watery grave. Of my poor wife I never heard or saw any thing more I fear she perished during the night; for though I desired ail to keep a diligent look out for any thing that might be floating about, we saw nothing all that weary night but the burning ship, where so many of our friends and brethren waited their end.

"Oh, Sir, it was a fearful sight to witness, as by the light of the flames we easily did, the distraction of the people, and to hear their miserable cries. We observed, that as the fire approached they drew themselves away from it, stood crowded together in the forecastle of the ship, and many were to be discerned upon the bowsprit, clinging and lashing themselves to it, in the faint hope that it might perhaps disengage itself from the burning mass, or be extinguished in the water, and afford them some chance of preservation. Some holder spirits, who were impatient of such a slow and protracted death, we saw plunge at once headlong into the ocean; but the greater part clung to the wreck, out of the strong instinct of self-preservation, and perhaps in the faint hope that the fire might be extinguished by the waters of the ocean, and still leave wreck suflicient to bear them afloat till some friendly ship might come to their help. But providence had otherwise determined. About midnight we observed the vessel make a heavy lurch forward; there arose, almost at the same instant, one of the most terrific screams I ever heard; and then followed a deep plunge, and instantly ship' and all vanished from our sight. All was dark, all was quiet. Oh! I shall never forget that scream of horror which came from the burning ship, as the people descended quick into the deep; nor shall I ever forget the groan of anguish and dismay with which it was answered from the boat in which I was so miraculously preserved."

Stop, James, and pause a moment, till I recover myself. What a fearful end for so many of our townsmen, and you left almost alone to tell the tale! Ah, me! I well remember how they were set upon this scheme of emigration. I hope

it is no discontentment with our condition, or murmuring against God, which hath drawn down upon our city this judgment. Such fearful calamities should not pass unimproved by us; they are sent for the correction of the living, according to the word of the Scripture: Think you that those eighteen men, upon whom the tower of Siloam fell, and slew them, were sinners above all men that dwell in Jerusalem? I tell you nay; but except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish.' And now that you had been delivered from the fellowship of their direful end, tell me, James, what befel you in the boat."

"The boat, Sir, was so crowded that there was barely room for us to sit down, and no room whatever to work her, even if we had had the means; but in such haste had they shoved off, lest they should be overcrowded and sunk, that they were without oars or compass, and, what is worse, without one morsel of meat, and only one small cask of water, which had been by accident lying in the bottom of the boat. But, for my own part, I believe there was a great providence in it; for, during such a night of horror none seemed to feel any hunger, but many of us were parched with thirst, and our little cask was nearly exhausted by the break of day. Never was a company of the Almighty's creatures in a more helpless condition; without food to eat, without water to drink, without room to turn ourselves, or power to attend to the wants of nature, heart broken for the loss of our nearest and dearest friends, we lay helpless upon the wide ocean, at the mercy of the first high wind that might arise to agitate the bosom of the deep. There we sat looking into each other's faces, and reading our misery in each other's looks. Few words were spoken. Every eye wandered far and wide over the deep, and strained itself to discover the appearance of some friendly sail. Hour passed after hour; hunger began to assail us, and famine stared us in the face; when about midday, one of the seamen called out, ‘A sail!' and instantly there burst forth from every creature a shout of joy and thankfulness. Then we directed our attention to the object, and every eye became fixed, and rivetted upon it. Now there ensued a period of the most heart-racking anxiety, whether the ship would observe us or not. For long the seamen hung in doubt; but at length, by a sudden change of her course, they were convinced that we had been observed, and that she was bearing down upon us. Then our joy was coinplete when we clearly saw that they were shaping their course our way; friend began to congratulate friend; our mouths were opened, and we praised God, and felt as if we were a second time delivered from death. But conceive our indignation and horror, when we saw the ship, now almost within hail, all at once change her course and bear away, as if on purpose to avoid us. Our agitation was extreme; never were men so tossed between hope and hopelessness, joy and grief and indignation; and I doubt not, if the rest were exercised like me, many a prayer was offered to God that he would incline the heart of the stranger to pity our calamity. This prayer was heard, for, after a good while, the ship again stood about, and bore down upon us as before. The reason of this double change of purpose we learned after we were taken on board. The captain having come nigh enough to perceive that we were a boatful of wretched men, without any thing but our lives, began to hesitate whether his provisions would last with such a large increase of mouths to feed; and being a man of a proud and imperious nature, he commanded the ship to bear away and steer another course. But the seamen, communing amongst themselves, and gathering courage from their unanimity, actually refused to work the ship, unless the captain would go to our relief; and at the same time offered to give up half their daily allowance of provision for our use. if he would do

SO.

Thus compelled and entreated, the captain was fain to comply; and to this magnanimous resolution of a Portuguese crew, to this strong reaction of natural feeling against imperious duty, it is that, under God, we all owed our lives.

"It was a Portuguese ship bound to Lisbon from some of their settlements in South America, which, in her course over the wide Atlantic, was thus directed by a gracions Providence to deliver so many of us from a fearful death. Being taken on board of her, we had many hardships to endure. We were forced to abide on deck all day exposed to the sun's heat, and to lie all night without covering, under the dews, and damps, and cold; we were often trampled upon by the imperious captain, which our free blood could ill brook; and when one of us murmured aloud, he drew his cutlass, and with a blow laid bare his cheek; and