ration at so much order, perseverance, and activity, "the merit is not mine but God's, who was taken the liberty of speech from me," replied Francis, with a smile. "As I was not able to lose any time in talking, I have employed it in working. Our life depends much more on our will than on our advantages; and you yourself see here what profit can be gathered from an infirmity." upon us. I profited from Francis's example, and accustomed myself not to waste a moment. As for my wife, she took in washing for some neighbouring families. Everything succeeded. Work crowded in A son and daughter soon consoled us for the loss of our first child. Our home was filled with love, joy, comfort, and health. My wife was singing all day long; the children throve and prattled; money came of itself into our money-box, and good fortune shone upon us as brightly as the sun. I may say that this time was the happiest of all my life; for it was that in which I felt most the goodness of God. In general, we accustom ourselves to happiness; and we look for it as our due, instead of receiving it as a gift. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. WAKE, brothers and sisters; 'tis dear Sunday morn; The Saviour called children, they clung round his feet : And become young disciples, and learn it is sweet No quarrels, no anger, no falsehood, no guile Let us learn all we can; let us learn to be good; Then the school, hymns, and service, the sweet Sunday walk, The calm fireside happiness, dear Sunday talk, May be ours to enjoy, with their blessings untold. J. A. LORD NELSON'S LAST SIGNAL. WHEN a great battle is fought upon the sea, there are many ships under the orders of one Commander, who is frequently at a long distance from some of the vessels to which he wants to give directions. In order to convey the necessary commands to all the ships with equal speed, signals have been contrived. Colours, or signs of some kind, are attached to the masts, which have been agreed upon to be a kind of language, and in this way the orders of the chief Commander are shown forth to the captains of all the ships at the same time. Most people have heard the name of Lord Nelson: his figure stands at the top of the pillar in Trafalgar Square, London, and that square has been named Trafalgar, from the place near which Nelson's last victory was gained. There had been a long war between France and England, such a war as we may hope will never be again; the emperor who at that time ruled France had threatened to invade England, and a powerful English fleet was sent out to protect the shores of our country from invasion; that fleet was commanded by Nelson. The battle of Trafalgar was fought nearly opposite Cadiz, a port of Spain. When Nelson prepared that day for battle, he knew that the enemy would be likely to particularly aim at him. Aware of his danger he prepared himself for death. In solemn prayer he besought the Almighty to grant to the English "a great and glorious victory, and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it, and may humanity after victory be especially shown by the British fleet." Then, to awaken the courage and assure himself of the attention of the fleet to his orders, to remind all to act with bravery on that awful day,-Nelson put up his last signal-"England expects every man to do his duty." The men of every ship replied with a shout of joyful acclamation. Yet those men knew well what that duty was. It was to stand firm when opposed to the enemy's fire,-to risk all possible injury of the limbs, and the loss of life itself. They knew that they would soon be surrounded by fire and smoke, that many of them would perish, that there is no place of retreat in a ship of war, no refuge for cowards. Nelson wore, as usual, his Admiral's frock coat, ornamented on the left breast with four stars, signs of honour which had been given him as a reward for past exertions. His officers, who were fearful that this dress would point him out to the enemy, urged him to cover it; but Nelson could not be prevailed upon to alter his usual dress. When, according to their fears, a fatal shot laid Lord Nelson low, he at last took out his handkerchief and covered his face and his stars. He did not like that his men should be grieved at that moment, by knowing that their beloved Commander had fallen. With some difficulty Nelson was caried into the lower part of the vessel where the surgeon attends to the wounded, which is called the cock-pit. It was crowded with wounded and dying men, and he was laid upon a pallet in the place where the midshipmen sleep. It was soon perceived that Nelson had received a mortal wound. He himself being certain from the pain in his back and the gush of blood within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful. "For," said he, "you can do nothing for me. All that could be done was to fan him, and to soothe his great thirst by cooling drink. His friend, Captain Hardy, knelt down by him, and received his last commands. The last words which Nelson uttered were,-"Thank God I have done my duty." So well had his crew been trained to preserve order in times of difficulty, that when some of the ropes and canvas of Nelson's ship, (the Victory was its name,) were set on fire by the enemy, and the dreadful alarm of a ship on fire was added to the terrors of that day, there was no confusion; the men were perfectly self-possessed, they extinguished the flames on board their own ship, and then hastened to extinguish them in the enemy's vessel by throwing buckets of water from the gangway. Lord Nelson had received a severe wound seven years before, in an engagement which, as it was fought near the river Nile, in Egypt; was called the battle of the Nile. Severe pain often makes people selfish, but it was not so with Nelson. When he was carried down into the cockpit, during that engagement, and the surgeon was going to quit the poor fellow whom he was attending that he might examine the Commander's wound,—“No,” cried Nelson,-"I will take my turn with my brave fellows." Nor would he suffer his wound to be examined, until every man who had been previously injured, had been cared for. Nelson had lost an eye and an arm in battle before his last engagement. His coat was adorned with stars, but his person was shattered and defaced by the hard usage of war. When the battle of Trafalgar was beginning,-Nelson discovered that two of his officers were not on good terms together; he sent for them, pointed to the enemy, and bade them shake hands like Englishmen. Amidst scenes of danger and in the prospect of death, how small and foolish appear the pride and envy of men! But in pain and death the face of a friend is cheering. Nelson desired that he might be buried near his parents, unless it should please the King to order otherwise. For greater honour, he was buried with great pomp in the vault below St. Paul's cathedral. Three of the Royal Princes attended the funeral. But there was a band of chief mourners who were allowed to take their places in the Church, nearer to the dear remains than even the Royal Princes. These were his friend Captain Hardy, and forty-eight veterans, chosen from Nelson's own ship. It had been intended that Nelson's flag should be placed by his side in the grave, but just as it was about to be lowered for that purpose,-the sailors, moved by a sudden desire, rent it in pieces, each preserving a fragment as a keepsake. The 9th of January, 1806, was the day of Lord Nelson's funeral. Our life has been called a conflict and a warfare. Though we may wish to live at peace with all men, we are sometimes beset with difficulties. Our passions lead us wrong, if we are not firm, and brave, and true. But God has written his law upon our hearts, and has given us a signal. When dangers surround us,-dangers greater than those of fire and water and the swords of the enemy,-for the consequences of sin are far worse than all these,-then let us listen to the signal cry of our own hearts, the small voice of conscience which says to us"God desires every one to do his duty." E. C. SUNSHINE. Beautiful, and bright, and joyous, Let it from life's toil decoy us, Sunny faces here surround us, From all shades of sorrow free, Beautiful is nature's sunlight, This will render home more cheerful, This may help to lead the tearful Oh! if we have such a power, Never veiling it by sin. And when sorrow's cloud must banish When the earthly love we cherish, Still is there a sunshine beaming, It will calm the strife of sorrow, Then our spirits upward soaring, A. S. RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD MAN. CHAPTER II. (Continued from page 184.) "Ir was just such a night as this," said Walter Evans, as he laid some turf on the low fire, "that Charlie's mother, poor body, laid down to die. I wish he would come back. It is past nine o'clock, and the night is very dark." Alice looked up sorrowfully from her knitting. Charlie's good conduct for many months had so materially improved, and he had evinced such deep grief at the death of Martha, and so bitterly reproached himself for his thoughtlessness, that Walter's resentment had gradually given way, and he was quite restored to favour. But he had gone to a neighbouring town, and was to have returned by five o'clock and Alice could not help fearing that he must have stopped at the house of one of his former associates, who lived at a |