of the currents, I feared we might fall to the southward of the port. At daylight, we recognised the coast, and Rat Island, which gave us great spirits; and though we found our105 selves much to the southward of the port, we considered ourselves almost at home. Sophia had gone through the night better than could have been expected, and we continued to pull on with all our strength. About eight or nine, we saw a ship standing to us from the Roads. 110 They had seen the flames on shore, and sent out vessels to our relief; and here certainly came a minister of Providence in the character of a minister of the Gospel; for the first person I recognized was one of the missionaries. They gave us a bucket of water, and wè 115 took the captain on board as a pilot. The wind, how ever, was adverse, and we could not reach the shore, and took to the ship, where we got some refreshment, and shelter from the sun. By this time Sophia was quite exhausted, fainting continually. About two o'120 clock, we landed safe and sound and no words of mine can do justice to the expressions of feeling, sympathy and kindness, by which we were hailed by every one. If any proof had been wanting, that my administration had been satisfactory here, we had it unequivocally 125 from all. There was not a dry eye; and as we drove back to our former home, loud, was the cry of" God be praised." EXERCISE 39. The Hour of Prayer.-MRS, HEMANS. 2 Traveller, in the stranger's land, Móurner, haunted by the tone 3 Warrior, that from battle won, EXERCISE 40. My Mother's Grave.-ANONYMOUS. It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when after a long absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change had 5 come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my youthful character. The world was altered too; and as I stood at my mother's grave, 1 could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an 10 excess of tenderness. But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterdayas if the blessed sound of her well remembered voice was in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and 15 childhood were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have been gentle and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a trifling one-but the thought of it now pains my heart, and I relate it, that those children 20 who have parents to love them, may learn to value them as they ought. My mother had been ill a long time, and I had be come so accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the 25 same, I began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she would die. One day when I had lost my place in the class, and done my work wrong side outward, I came home discouraged, and fretful;-I went to my mother's chamber. She 30 was paler than usual, but she met me with the same af fectionate smile that always welcomed my return. Alas! when I look back, through the lapse of thirteen years, 1 think my heart must have been stone, not to have melted by it. She requested me to go down stairs, and 35 bring her a glass of water;-I pettishly asked why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild reproach which I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred years old, she said and will not my daughter bring a glass of water, for her poor sick mother?' 40 I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of smiling and kissing her, as I was wont to do, I set the glass down very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone 45 in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she said, 'Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother!' I could n't sleep. I stole into her chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an 50 easy slumber, and they told me I must not waken her. I. did not tell any one what troubled me, but stole back to my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and tell her how sorry I was for my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and hur55 rying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! she never spoke more-never smiled upon me again-and when I touched the hand that used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me start. I bowed down by her side, and sobbed 60 in the bitterness of my heart. I thought then I wished I might die, and be buried with her; and old as I now am, I would give worlds were they mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my child ish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back; and when 65 I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me, will bite like a serpent, and sting like an adder. A Tale of Waterloo.-ANONYMOUS. About the middle of the night I received a visit from a young man, with whom I had formed an intimate acquaintance. He was the only son of a gentleman of large property in the South of Ireland; but having formed an 5 attachment to a beautiful girl in humble life, and married her against the will of his father, he had been disinherited and turned out of doors.***** Depressed as I was in spirit myself, I was struck with the melancholy tone in which that night he accosted me. 10 He felt a presentiment, he said, that he would not survive the battle of the ensuing day. He wished to bid me farewell, and to entrust to my care his portrait, which, with his farewell blessing, was all he had to bequeath to his wife and child. Absence had renewed, 15 or rather doubled, all his fondness for the former, and portrayed her in all the witching loveliness that had won his boyish affection. He talked of her while the tears ran down his cheeks, and conjured me, if ever I reached England, to find her out, and make known her case 20 to his father. In vain, while I pledged my word to the fulfilment of his wishes, I endeavored to cheer him with better hopes. He listened in mournful silence to ali I could suggest; flung his arms round my neck; wrung my hand and we parted. I saw him but once again. 25 It was during the hottest part of the next and terrible day, when with a noise that drowned even the roar of artillery, Sir William Ponsonby's brigade of cavalry dashed past our hollow square, bearing before them in that tremendous charge, the flower of Napoleon's chivalry. 30 Far ahead even of his national regiment, I saw the manly figure of my friend. It was but for a moment. The next instant he was fighting in the centre of the enemy's squadron; and the clouds of smoke, that closed in mas ses round friend and foe, hid him from my view. When 35 the battle was over, and all was hushed but the groans of the wounded, and the triumphant shouts and rolling drums of the victorious Prussians, who continued the pursuit during the entire of the night, I quitted the shattered remains of the gallant regiment in whose ranks I had that 10 day the honor of standing. The moon was wading through scattered masses of dark and heavy clouds, when I commenced my search for my friend. The light was doubtful and uncertain; yet it was easy to keep along the track that marked the last career of Ponsonby. 15 Shuddering, lest in every face I should recognise my friend, I passed by, and sometimes trod upon the cold and motionless heaps, which now looked so unlike the fiery masses of living valour" that a few hours before, had commingled, with a concussion more dreadful than` 50 the earthquake's shock. Although I at first felt a certain conviction of his fate, I afterwards began to hope that the object of my search had, contrary to his prediction, survived the terrible encounter. I was about to retire, when a heap of slain, in a ploughed field, on which the 55 moon was now shining clearly, attracted my notice. Literally piled on each other, were the bodies of five cuirassiers; and lying beneath his horse was the dead body of my friend. You may form some idea of my astonishment, on finding, by a nearer inspection, that his 60 head was supported, and his neck entwined, by the arms of a female, from whom also the spirit had taken its departure; but you can form no conception of the horror I felt at beholding, in this scene of carnage and desolation, in the very arms of death, and on the bosom of a 65 corpse, a living infant, sleeping calmly, with the moonbeam resting on its lovely features, and a smile playing on its lips, as if angels were guarding its slumbers, and inspiring its dreams! And who knows but perhaps they were? The conviction now flashed on my mind, that 70 these were the wife and child of my unfortunate friend; and the letters we afterwards found on the person of the former, proved that I was right in my conjecture. Driven aside by the gale of pleasure or ambition, or by the storms of life, the affections of man may veer; but un75 changeable and unchanging is a true heart in woman. She loves, and loves forever." This faithful wife had 66 |