cool intrepidity to attend to their several duties. The old man stood stationed at the helm, and, with steady gaze, kept his eyes fixed on the beacons. Now was she lifted up to heaven, and borne with amazing rapidity through the outer breakers; again she sunk, and disappeared between the hollow seas.

"She's gone! she's gone!" exclaimed the rector; but, in an instant, the vessel again mounted on the topmost wave, and rushed with surprising swiftness through the foaming surge. At this moment a dreadful broken sea came raging with all its fury it burst upon the deck, and seemed to bury the little craft in the dark abyss. Breathless, agonizing fear filled every heart, and groans and shrieks mingled with the gale. But again the smack rose, though the helm was now deserted, and the vessel seemed abandoned to her fate. Once more, however, was hope revived; for young Edward, with cool determination, ran to the tiller, and directed her headlong course,

The vessel had reached the secret channel, known only to the illicit trader: she neared the beach; the sea again struck her, and she was carried by its force through the inner breakers. A wild shout of joy arose from the shore, as the

smack gained the smooth water, agitated only by the receding swell; but, at this instant, she struck the ground and rent in twain, the retiring surge carrying back the shattered remnants towards the rocks. And now the hardy race of brave boatmen, reckless of danger, plunged headlong in the waves. Old Donald took the lead: he grasped the arm of the lad James, and turned towards the shore; the surf threw them up with violence, and would again have returned them to the sea, but Donald seized the rope which had been overhauled down, and kept his firm grasp in a few seconds more, they were safe on land. Richard succeeded in saving his father-in-law, aided by the boy Ned, who swam like a fish, and seemed to triumph in the element. Not a soul was lost of that little crew; and relatives and friends flocked round, rejoicing in their deliverance.

The grandfather, with Richard, his wife, and the whole of the fisherman's family, accompanied by the stranger who had been saved from the ship, hastened to the cottage on the cliff. They entered the abode amidst kind congratulations, and the stranger was ushered into the best apartment. He sat down, blessing his deliverer, and forming schemes, in his own mind, to testify his gratitude.

Suddenly his eyes were rivetted on a picture that hung suspended over the mantelpiece: it was a portrait of the unkind father who had disinherited his son, through the false representations of a still more cruel brother; but it had been preserved by the old man as the last relic of his family. The stranger gazed upon it with earnestness, and he then eagerly turned to the aged fisherman. Their eyes met, and again both looked at the picture. The stranger covered his face with his hands, and groaned bitterly.

"I do not value the loss of the vessel," said Richard, so that we all have met together again. But come, father," he continued, "let us kneel and offer up our praises to the throne of grace."

"Stop, stop!" cried the stranger convulsively, "my presence would be a clog upon your prayers. I, too, had a father: that picture was his. Years have not effaced the remembrance from my mind. And you must be," he continued, falling on his knees before the venerable old man, 66 you are, my noble-minded, my much injured brother.”

Oh, what a meeting was this! Animosity had long since subsided; and the word "brother" revived all the attachments of their boyish days.

What need of saying more? they knelt together;

and whilst without, the storm raged—within the

cottage,

"The peace of God, beyond expression sweet,
Filled every being humbled at his feet."

They rose, and the stranger-stranger now no longer-was received into the circle with delight. A man entered the room, announcing that several of the seamen, who had been saved from the wreck, were waiting outside the house, to know if they might take shelter in some out-buildings. The kind-hearted mother would not permit this, but succoured them under the same roof with her children, and gave them plentiful refreshment. The stranger went amongst them, and they instantly rose from their repast with the utmost respect. From them he learned that the whole of the remaining portion of the crew and passengers had quitted the ship. About thirty had perished, but the rest, nearly forty in number, were safe on land. Another man now entered, and addressed the stranger as "Sir William Russell." Yes! he was great-he was wealthy; and, from that hour, his influence and his wealth were devoted to the promotion of the happiness and welfare of the "FISHERMAN'S FAMILY."

BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

O GOD! I am a little child

Who fain to thee would pray, But am so mazed in folly's wild, I know not what to say.

O teach my light and erring tongue

To render thanks to thee;

And mould my simple heart, while young, To deep humility.

For thou hast made me what I am,

With brightest hopes before,

And put a reasoning soul within,

To live for evermore.

That thou art kind, and great, and good,

I joyfully believe;

But, oh! thy boundless love to man,

My mind cannot conceive.

That thou shouldst send thine only Son

From regions of the sky,

For this whole sinful race of mine

A dreadful death to die,