came ashore.

No sooner had they done so, than the vessel capsized and broke to pieces; one side of her was washed up, and the cries of struggling sailors were distinctly heard. The life-boat was again put to sea, in the hope of picking up men that might be on rafts, or otherwise trying to escape, but nothing living could be found. It was now nearly midnight, and the life-boat had become locked between two cliffs on the beach, from which position she was unable to get away without risk of being dashed to pieces, until six o'clock on the following morning. All the crew of the ill-fated ship were lost. The vessel was the brig Favourite, of Liverpool, loaded with palm-oil and seeds, and had a crew of ten

men.

The wreck was about a mile from shore. NOTE.-Dr. Silvester's rules for the restoration of those who are apparently drowned, will be found in No. 60 of the Cottager. They have received the sanction of the Royal Humane Society, and have proved successful in restoring many in whom life seemed to be extinct.

She had talked to every one
Of the dangers of a gun,

And fondly begged that none of them would stir
To take a distant flight,

At morning, noon, or night,
Before they prudently asked leave of her.

But one fine sunny day,
Toward the end of May,

Young Tommy Rook began to scorn her power,
And said that he would fly
Into the field close by,

And walk among the daisies for an hour.

"Stop, stop!" she cried, alarmed,

"I see a man that's armed,

And he will shoot you, sure as you are seen;
Wait till he goes, and then,
Secure from guns and men,
We all will have a ramble on the green."

But Master Tommy Rook,
With a very saucy look,

Perched on a twig, and plumed his jetty broast;
Still talking all the while,

In a very pompous style,

Of doing just what he might like the best.

"I don't care one bit," said he,
"For any gun you see,

I am tired of the cautions you bestow;
I mean to have my way,
Whatever you may say,

And shall not ask when I may stay or go."

"But, my son," the mother cried,
"I only wish to guide,

Till you are wise, and fit to go alone;
I have seen much more of life,

Of danger, woe, and strife,

Than you, my child, can possibly have known.

From "Poems by Eliza Cook."

He hopped about, and found

All pleasant things around;

He strutted through the daisies-but, alas!
A loud shot-Bang!-was heard,
And the wounded, silly bird
Rolled over, faint and dying, on the grass.

"There! there! I told you so,"
Cried his mother, in her woe,

"I warned you, with a parent's thoughtful truth;
And you see that I was right,
When I tried to stop your flight,

And said you needed me to guide your youth."

I

THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. SHOULD like to know the name of the man who first invented the anchor. He deserves a monument in Westminster Abbey, whoever he was. But it is now too late to find out his name; like the first anchor which he dropped, it is lost and forgotten.

But it is about the anchor of the soul that I now speak. The soul is immortal, of far more value than the most richly-laden ship that ever sailed, and therefore deserves a sure and steadfast anchor. This anchor, the Apostle Paul tells us, is Hope. "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast” (Heb. vi. 19). But then it is not merely hoping for heaven that will bring a man up within the veil when he dies. No; every man who lands there at last must be prepared for it beforehand; for God has assured us that no unholy person can enter the mansions of glory. What, then, does the Apostle mean by Hope? If you turn to the Bible you will find that it is แ "the hope set before us" which is the sure and steadfast anchorage of the soul. The Lord Jesus Christ is that hope, or, what comes to the same thing, he is the object we must hope in for salvation. He says, "No man cometh unto the Father but by me." "I am the way." And again, "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out."

We are constantly reminded of the uncertainty of life. Both on sea and on land death is ever at our side; our companions are taken away, and no one can tell but what it may be his turn next. The body may be broken

up

at any time by

death, but death cannot touch the soul; for when the body dies the soul will "return unto God who gave it." But how will he receive it? Will the immortal soul return to abide with God for ever, or only enter his presence to be tried and banished for ever? One or the other reception awaits each of us, and an eternity of happiness or misery will be the portion of all. Who would brave the storms of the last judgment when he may run into the calm bay of Present Mercy? To neglect such great salvation would be the height of salvation would be the height of madness; and yet it is neglected

WHE

THE MARINER'S PRAYER.

"Lord, save us: we perish."

THEN through the torn sail the wild tempest is
streaming,

When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,
Nor hope lends a ray, the poor seaman to cherish,
We fly to our Maker, "Save, Lord! or we perish."

O Jesus! once rocked on the breast of the billow,
Aroused by the shriek of despair from thy pillow,
Now seated in glory, the mariner cherish,
Who cries in his anguish, "Save, Lord! or we perish."
And, O! when the whirlwind of passion is raging,
When sin in our hearts his wild warfare is waging,
Then send down thy grace, thy redeemed to cherish,
Rebuke the destroyer: "Save, Lord! or we perish."

by many, and the soul treated as if it were not worth a rope's-end.

This criminal folly once struck a poor thoughtless swearer very forcibly. A minister, who overheard him, stepped up, and, in order to try whether the man meant what he said, asked him, "Will you repeat that curse on your soul again for half-a-crown?" He stared when this strange question was put to him, and, after thinking a moment, he said, "Do you think I am fool enough to damn my soul for half-a-crown ?" Why," said the minister, "you did so for

He

nothing just now: why not do it again for money?" The poor fellow was shocked at his own folly: he had never seen it in the same light before; and from that time he never swore another oath, but exchanged cursing for praying.

The first thing to attend to is to flee for refuge to the crucified Saviour, to commit your soul into his hands; for he is the only hope set before us in the Gospel, and he is a sure and steadfast one. He has pledged himself that, "Whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

We can only be saved by faith,
and we must be saved by
Christ, or be lost for ever. It
may be that you have not yet
tried to believe in Christ for
salvation, and that you do not
understand the nature of faith.
Faith is not one Saviour, and
Christ another. It is the vessel
you
sail in that saves you from
drowning, and it is your faith in
her being sea-worthy that leads
you to sail in her; so it is faith
in Christ which leads a sinner
to trust in him for salvation, but
it is Christ that saves him. It

is not your faith that gives strength to your ship, and yet without faith in her strength you would not sail in her; so it is not our believing in Christ which makes Christ a Saviour, but without faith in him we should not apply to him for salvation. It is the anchor which saves the vessel in a storm--that is, without dropping the anchor the vessel must drift before the gale; but still the safety comes from the "sure and steadfast" anchorage. In like manner it is by hoping in Christ that our hope becomes an anchor to the soul, because thus it lays hold on him alone for salvation.

FROM

THE GARDEN.

ROM the advanced state of growth of the plants there is less to do now (September) than in any other month of the year: the gardener now reaps the fruits of his labours. In the third or fourth week of the month you must begin to prepare for planting choice hyacinths or tulips for early spring blooming, by digging the beds and borders for them, in which they may be planted any time till November. Any other bulbous roots may be planted towards the middle or end of the month. Pink beds should be formed and planted: a compost that suits them admirably is composed of leaf-mould, loam, and roadscrapings. Where any of your carnation layers still remain on the old plants, and are properly rooted, let them be taken off as soon as possible, so that they may have time to form good independent roots before winter. Give them an occasional watering. Keep your dahlias securely fastened, as a precaution against winds. They should now be in perfection. Any auriculas in pots will demand attention, and you must water them occasionally, particularly those recently shifted. Take cuttings of verbenas and scarlet geraniums, to be preserved during the winter in pots. Towards the latter part of the month dig and prepare borders for planting perennial and biennial flowers which were raised in the spring or the beginning of summer, or before. They may be transplanted any time after the middle of the month. Polyanthuses may be separated and potted for next year's blooming. Continue to propagate such plants as rosecampions, scarlet lychnis, campanulas, etc. Strike China roses, which may be done freely this month, and a good stock provided. Keep your chrysanthemums neatly tied up, or the autumnal winds will make sad havoc among them. Peonies may be divided and transplanted this month, as also cyclamen, winteraconite, flag-irises, dog's-tooth, etc., and should be planted at once where required to bloom. Any flowering shrubs may now be transplanted, but more particularly the evergreen kinds; it would be better to defer the removal of decidu

ous ones, that is, those which shed their leaves in winter, till the middle of the next month. Look closely after ripening seeds, and be careful to gather them only when dry.

Vegetables.-Your main crop of potatoes will now be fit to lift; when you take them up, lay them in a shed till they are dry. Be careful to

separate the good from the bad, as a few tainted ones will spoil many more. Plant cauliflowers out in sheltered places; under a north wall is a good place. Thin and hoe your turnips. A sprinkling of wood ashes will be found to check the fly, if they become very troublesome. Sow spinach; the prickly sort will be found the best; and the sowing of winter onions should not be delayed beyond the first week of the month. This is the proper time to make rhubarbbeds. Dig a trench two feet deep, which must be half-filled with good rotten manure, upon which the roots must be placed, and covered completely with earth. Transplant the young cabbage-plants, sown last month, into nursery-beds. The proper

time to do this is when the plants have got three or four rough leaves. Put them in rows nine inches apart, and the plants six inches from each other. When transplanted, let them have plenty of water for two or three days to encourage them to grow, and to settle

the earth round their roots. Plant lettuce to stand the winter. Most gardeners think Grand Admiral and Hardy Hammersmith the best, as they will stand the severest winter. A sowing of mustard-and-cress may still be made. Earth-up celery; it may be protected from slugs by quicklime sprinkled around it.

Fruit.-Vines must be looked over, in order that the ripening of the grapes may be promoted by the enjoyment of the requisite sun and air, and unnecessary shoots should be taken off. If the bunches of grapes as they appear are too much shaded, let some of the leaves be taken off, and see that none of the bunches are entangled with each other, or too closely confined between the branches. Autumn apples and pears should be now gathered for keeping as they arrive at the proper growth. They will probably be ready by about the latter end of the month. Plant strawberries; if the weather be moist, it may be done any time this month; but should it be hot and dry, leave it till the end of the month. Old strawberry-beds should be kept clean from all large overgrown weeds.

The Window.-Sow seeds of nemophila insignis, mignonette, intermediate stocks, and other quick-flowering annuals, in pots, in good soil; when the plants have attained some size, thin them out to three or four of the strongest. The Chinese primroses moved into pots last month should be repotted now-this time one plant in a pot. The geraniums which you cut down in July will now be pushing out again; encourage these shoots as much as possible by shelter and moisture, and when they are two or three joints long they should be nipped off to render the plants bushy. If a few seedlings of the lovely cineraria should be obtained now, treat them like your geraniums. Give your chrysanthemums in pots manurewater occasionally; and set all plants as they go out of flower in the sun to ripen their wood, but give them plenty of water.

THE SERPENT IN THE BOTTLE.

THE following incident in the life of the Rev.

Samuel Leigh, the Australian missionary, is a striking example of the extraordinary methods which God sometimes adopts in order to bring the wandering souls of men to himself.

Mr. Leigh, while on a preaching excursion, arrived late one evening at a small hut, far from any town, belonging to a man named John Lees. He knocked at the door, and called out, "Will you receive a missiorary?" Out came a little ruddy lad, who laid hold of the bridle with one hand, and the stirrup with the other, and said, "Get off, sir; my father will be glad to see you."

The traveller gladly dismounted and entered the hut. His astonishment may well be cu ceived when he observed a number of persons sitting round a table, and was invited by John Lees to join them in family worship. When they rose from their knees, the farmer, seizing Mr. Leigh's hand, said, "We have been praying for three years that God would send us a missionary; now that you are come, we are right glad to see you."

John Lees had been a soldier, and when his corps was disbanded, the Government granted him a small allotment of land. By hard work, several acres were cleared; his live stock increased, and he began to thrive. But his propensity for strong drink, checked for a while by industry, again grew upon him, till he became a confirmed drunkard. One useful article after another went, till part of his land and all his live-stock were gone, except one pig, now fat and ready for the knife. The unhappy man was contemplating the sale of this last pig, to pay off a debt incurred for drink, when a circumstance occurred which changed the whole course of his future life. He dreamed one night that he was as usual at the tavern, and whilst grasping the spirit-bottle to fill another glass, to his terror he observed a snake rising

out of the bottle with expanded jaws, and striking its fangs in all directions. Its deadly eye, flashing fire, was fixed upon him, and occasioned a convulsive horror, which awoke him. He thanked God it was but a dream but he never lost the impression then made upon his mind of the inseparable connexion between intemperance, suffering, and death.