your maternal womb, and hide us from the sight of these accumulated distresses !"

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The other animals then spoke by their deputies, the horse, the ox, and the sheep. O pity, mother Earth, those of your children that repose on your breast, and derive their subsistence from your foodful bosom ! We are parching with drought, we are scorched by lightning, we are beaten by pitiless tempests, salubrious vegetables refuse to nourish us, we languish under disease, and the race of men treat us with unusual rigour. Never, without speedy succour, can we survive to another year.'

The vegetables next, those that form the verdant carpet of the earth, that cover the waving fields of harvest, and that spread their lofty branches in the air, sent forth their complaint.

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"O, our general mother, to whose breast we cleave, and whose vital juices we drain, have compassion upon us! See how we wither and droop under the baleful gales that sweep over us -how we thirst in vain for the gentle dew of heaven-how immense tribes of noxious insects pierce and devour us-how the famishing flocks and herds tear us up by the roots-and how men, through mutual spite, lay waste and destroy us while yet immature. Already whole nations of us are desolated, and unless you save us, another year will witness our total destruction."

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My children (said Earth), I have now existed some thousand years; and scarcely one of them has passed in which similar complaints have not risen from one quarter or another. Nevertheless, every thing has remained in nearly the same state, and no species of created be

ings has been finally lost. The injuries of one year are repaired by the succeeding. The growing vegetables may be blasted, but the seeds of others lie secure in my bosom, ready to receive the vital influence of more favourable seasons. Animals may be thinned by want and disease, but a remnant is always left, in whom survive the principle of future increase. As to man, who suffers not only from natural causes, but from the effects of his own follies and vices, his miseries rouse within him the latent powers of remedy, and bring him to his reason again; while experience continually goes along with him to improve his means of happiness, if he will but listen to its dictates. Have patience then, my children! You were born to suffer, as well as to enjoy, and you must submit to your lot. But console yourselves with the thought, that you have a kind Master above, who created you for benevolent purposes, and will not withhold his protection when you stand most in need of it."

Twenty-Ninth Evening.

PROVIDENCE; OR, THE SHIPWRECK.

It was a dreadful storm. The wind blowing full on the sea-shore, rolled tremendous waves on the beach, while the half-sunk rocks at the entrance of the bay were enveloped in a mist of white foam. A ship appeared in the offing, driving impetuously under her bare poles to land; now tilting aloft on the surging waves, now plunging into the intervening hollows. Presently she rushed among the rocks, and there stuck, the billows beating over her deck, and climbing up her shattered rigging. "Mercy! mercy!" exclaimed an ancient Solitary as he viewed from a cliff the dismal scene. It was in vain. The ship fell on her side, and was seen no more.

Soon, however, a small dark object appeared coming from the rocks towards the shore: at first dimly descried through the foam, then quite plain as it rode on the summit of a wave, then for a time totally lost. It approached, and showed itself to be a boat with men in it rowing for their lives. The Solitary hastened down to the beach, and in all the agonizing vicissitudes of hope and fear watched its advance. At length, after the most imminent hazards, the boat was thrown violently on the shore, and the dripping half-dead mariners crawled out to dry land.

"Heaven be praised!" cried the Solitary; "what a providential escape! And he led the poor men to his cell, where, kindling a good fire, and bringing out his little store of provision, he restored them to health and spririts. "And are

you six men the only ones saved ?" said he. "That we are," answered one of them. "Threescore and fifteen men, women, and children, were in the ship when she struck. You may think what a clamour and confusion there was: women clinging to their husband's necks, and children hanging about their clothes, all shrieking, crying, and praying! There was no time to be lost. We got out the small boat in a twinkling; jumped in without staying for our captain, who was fool enough to be minding the passengers; cut the rope, and pushed away just time enough to be clear of the ship as she went down and here we are, all alive and merry !" An oath concluded his speech. The Solitary was shocked, and could not help secretly wishing that it had pleased Providence to have saved some of the innocent passengers rather than these reprobates.

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The sailors, having got what they could, departed, scarcely thanking their benefactor, and marched up the country. Night came on. They descried a light at some distance, and made up to it. It proceeded from the window of a goodlooking house, surrounded with a farm-yard and garden. They knocked at the door, and in a supplicating tone made known their distress, and begged relief. They were admitted, and treated with compassion and hospitality. In the house were the mistress, her children and womenservants, an old man and a boy: the master

was abroad. The sailors, sitting round the kitchen fire, whispered to each other that here was an opportunity of making a booty that would amply compensate for the loss of clothes and wages. They settled their plan; and on the old man's coming with logs to the fire, one of them broke his skull with the poker, and laid him dead. Another took up a knife which had been brought with the loaf and cheese, and running after the boy, who was making his escape out of the house, stabbed him to the heart. The rest locked the doors, and after tying all the women and childreu, began to ransack the house. One of the children continuing to make loud exclamations, a fellow went and strangled it. They had nearly finished packing up such of the most valuable things as they could carry off, when the master of the house came home. He was a smuggler as well as a farmer, and had just returned from an expedition, leaving his companions with their goods at a neighbouring public-house. Surprised at finding the doors locked, and at seeing lights moving about in the chambers, he suspected somewhat amiss; and, upon listening, he heard strange voices, and saw some of the sailors through the windows. He hastened back to his companions, and brought them with him just as the robbers opened the door and were coming out with their pillage, having first set fire to the house in order to conceal what they had done. The smuggler and his friends let fly their blunderbusses in the midst of them, and then rushing forwards seized the survivors and secured them. Perceiving flames in the house, they ran and extinguished them. The villains were next