A HALF-DESTROYED BIBLE.

FATHER in South Carolina was about sending his son to college. Fearing lest the principles of Christian faith, which he had endeavored to instil into his mind, would be rudely assailed, but trusting in the efficacy of that Word which is quick and powerful, he

purchased, unknown to his son, an elegant copy of the Bible, and deposited it at the bottom of his trunk. The young man entered upon his college career. The restraints of a pious education were soon broken off, and he proceeded from speculation to doubts, and from doubts to a denial of the reality of religion. After having become, in his own estimation, wiser than his father, he discovered one day, while rummaging his trunk, with great surprise and indignation, the sacred deposit. He took it out, and, while deliberating on the manner in which he should treat it, he determined that he would use it, as he should need it, to wipe his razor on while shaving. Accordingly, whenever he went to shave, he tore out a leaf or two of the Holy Book, and thus used it till nearly half the volume was destroyed. But while he was committing this outrage, a text now and then met his eye, and was carried like a barbed arrow to his heart. At length, he heard a sermon which discovered to him his own character, and his exposure to the wrath of God, and riveted upon his mind the impression which he had received from the last torn leaf of the blessed, yet insulted volume. Had worlds been at his disposal, he would freely have given them all, could they have availed him to undo what he had done. At length, he found forgiveness at the foot of the cross. The torn leaves of that sacred volume brought healing to his soul; for they led him to repose on the mercy of God, which is sufficient for the chief of sinners.

A VISIT TO SHELTER ISLAND.

"WHERE is Shelter Island?" perhaps some of my young readers will say. Indeed, the same question is often asked by older people. The Shelter Islanders think it very strange that such an inquiry should be made not sixty miles from them. Well, shall I tell you about this island? The truth is, I don't know much about it myself; but I know who does know, and I have just got a letter from her, telling all about it. Hear what she says:

Willie lived in a pleasant Connecticut village, among the hills; and in the long, hot summer days, thoughts of the cool sea-breezes would invite him to the sea-shore. That was a happy day in his life, when his mother and he started on their journey towards the ocean. He meant to help her so much-to be her protector-and he hoped to bring home a large store of shells and sea-weed to his brother and sister. We first went to New London, and stayed one night, waiting for the steamboat to take us to Greenport, Long Island. We rode to the light-house, and spent an hour or two rambling about on the rocks and the smooth, white beach. The waves rolled in, laying at our feet shells, and beautiful colored moss, and then receded, to come up a little higher next time, washing away what they had left before, to make room for new treasures. We brought away a quantity of crimson, brown, purple, and green

moss, some fine, like colored hair, with tiny shells clinging to it; others, broad and delicate as thin green paper.

All this time you are wondering where Shelter Island is. You will soon find out; for when the steamboat left us on the wharf at Greenport, we sailed an hour in a snug little boat across the bay, and found ourselves at the island. Long Island, at its eastern extremity, stretches out two long arms into the ocean, between which are several islands, sheltered from ocean storms. The largest is Shelter Island, seven miles long, and four broad. So numerous are the indentations on its shore, that you can walk thirty miles on its white beach, if you choose to go around it in this It was way. a bright summer evening when we, with some other passengers, sailed to the island; and the breeze from the ocean was most invigorating. There was no dock to land upon. A row-boat was drawn to the water's edge upon the white beach, and we stepped from the sail-boat to the row-boat, and so landed. Wagons were waiting under the trees near by-not modern inventions, with springs and cushions, but such as were made when the island was first settled, and, being easy enough for their great-grandmothers, were well enough, doubtless, for us. There are no public roads on the island, it having been originally laid out in farms; so that, in crossing it, you ride over fields, through barn-yards and lawns, often stopping to let down bars. This had to be done eight or ten times in a ride of three miles. Efforts are making to bring about

a change in this respect, however.

It would make a long story to tell of all that Willie enjoyed at the house of his kind friends. He became expert at fishing, and caught a basketful of porgies, one morning when they anchored the sail-boat out in the bay, and the curious bottle-fish, that bloats itself up like a bladder. He caught a pig-fish, too, whose grunt or squeal is like that of a little pig. Another day, we sailed out with a fine wind, and intended going several miles to a mill on the opposite shore. Suddenly, while we were moving swiftly across the bay, the rope broke, and down came the sail with a noise upon the deck; so we had to use the oars for the rest of the day. At length, we stepped out upon a long point, called Gull's Point, which stretches more than a mile out into the bay. It is called so because

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gulls lay their eggs there in the sand, and leave them to be hatched by the sun. The long, narrow strip of land was covered with white pebbles and sand, and with shells which children call gold and silver shells. The gulls seemed very much troubled at being disturbed, and flew overhead; often very low, and screeching as if trying to drive away the intruders. One of the children stepped accidentally upon some eggs, and crushed them in the sand. It was very pleasant to walk upon this narrow strip so far out into the sea, and to watch the waves dashing over the white beach and glittering shells, and to feel health returning with every breath of the pure, cool ocean breeze. Oh! what a contrast to the dirty streets of a crowded city, where no pure air penetrates, and where little children pine in their close rooms! Willie often walked miles along the beach, searching for shells and sea-weed. Crabs were running about like great spiders, and snails were crawling in swarms. the evening came the bathing, when the frolicking and laughing made the solitary shores ring again, as the boys swam about, and the mother waded deeper and deeper into the cool, refreshing

water.

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The farm wagon drove to the door one evening, to take the party to Prospect Hill, the highest land on the island. Some of the party found seats on hay spread at the bottom of the wagon, and all in merry mood rode through farms and fields, until they came to an open common, or succession of grassy knolls, bare of trees, but enlivened with patches, as it were, of bright green shrubbery. The grass was burnt brown by the hot sun, and afforded a scanty herbage to the sheep browsing here and there on it.

We stopped at the foot of Prospect Hill, and walked to the top. The sea had evidently once rolled over these hills, for the ground was strewn with white sand and pebbles as upon the beach. Such a view as met our eyes can never be forgotten. The long arms of Long Island were seen stretching out on either side, with Gardiner's and Gull's Islands lying between them. Greenport, Sag Harbor, and Orient were distinctly visible; and in a clear day, Montauk Point, twenty-five miles off, is seen. Shelter Island looked most lovely, as it lay on the blue waters, bordered with its beach of dazzling white, and covered with its green woods, and farms, and orchards.

It has only four hundred and fifty inhabitants; and a more moral and religious community cannot be found. There is no place where intoxicating drinks are sold, and there is no public-house, and but one store. The church, the meeting for social prayer, and the Sabbath school, are all honored and enjoyed.

L. L.