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At the prospect of such a misfortune, Amy felt her strength return. She forgot her weariness, her pinched feet, and her tight chest, and made as much haste as she could to reach a place of shelter. But, in spite of her efforts, she could not run so fast as her companions, who were lightly dressed. Then, too, every moment she was stopped—at one time by her hoop and flounces in the narrow paths by which she was obliged to go ; at another by her train which was frequently caught fast by the furze.

At that moment, too, the storm burst forth in all its fury, and there fell a shower of rain and hail mixed together. All but Amy had now reached their homes, and at last she got home, but was wet through and through. She had, besides, left one of her fine shoes behind her in a heap of dirt which, as she hurried along, she had scrambled over without seeing it. To increase the list of her disasters, she had not quite cleared the meadow when a gust of wind blew off her hat into the middle of a dirty pool of water.

When she got home, she had to be undressed and put to bed immediately. Her silk dress was spoilt, and absolutely good for nothing. “Shall I have another dress made-up for you to-morrow, Amy?” said her mother, seeing the wretched state she was in.

“Oh no, mamma !” said the little girl, kissing her ; “I am convinced fine clothes can never make anybody happy. Let me have my nice white frock again, and my hair as it used to be, and forgive my foolish desire.”

Her mamma did not regret the loss of the fine silk dress, since it proved the means of curing her beloved daughter of that vanity that, if indulged in, would have spoilt her character.

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If enemies oppose us

When England is at war
With any foreign nation,

We fear not wound or scar :
Our roaring guns shall teach 'em

Our valour for to know,
Whilst they reel on the keel,
And the stormy winds do blow.

And the stormy, &c.
Then courage, all brave mariners,

And never be dismay'd ;
While we have bold adventurers,

We ne'er shall want a trade ;
Our merchants will employ us

To fetch them wealth, we know ;
Then be bold—work for gold,
When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.


The Life of Lord Nelson,



ORATIO NELSON was the son of Edmund and

Catherine Nelson, and was born 29th September, 1758, in the parsonage house, Barnham Thorpe, a village in the county of Norfolk, of which his father was rector. Mr. Nelson died in 1767, leaving eight, out of eleven children.

Mrs. Nelson's brother, Captain Maurice Suckling, of the navy, visited the family at this time, and promised to take

, care of one of the boys. Three years afterwards, when Horatio was only twelve years old, being at home during the Christmas holidays, he read in the county newspaper that his uncle was appointed to the command of the Raisonnable of sixty-four guns. “Do, William," said he to a brother who was a year and a half


older than himself, “write to my father, and tell him that I should like to go to sea with Uncle Maurice.”

His father was then at Bath, where he had gone for the recovery of his health ; he was not well off, and he had no prospects of becoming richer, so he did not oppose the resolution of his son. He knew well the boy's character, and had always said, that in whatever station he might be placed, he would climb, if possible, to the very top of the tree.

Accordingly, Captain Suckling, Horatio's uncle, was written to. What,” said he, in his reply, “has poor Horatio done, who is so weak, that he, above all the rest, should be sent to rough it out at sea ? But let him come ; and the first time we go into action, a cannon-ball may knock off his head, and provide for him at once.

It is clear, from these words, that Horatio was not the boy whom his uncle would have chosen to bring up to the life of a sailor. He was never very strong; and the ague, which at that time was one of the most common diseases in England, had greatly reduced his strength ; yet he had already given proofs of that resolute heart and nobleness of mind which marked him during the whole course of his life.

When a mere child, he strayed, a birds’-nesting, from his grandmother's house in company with a cow-boy. The dinner hour came; he was absent and could not be found. The alarm of the nily became very great, for they feared he might have been carried off by gipsies. At length, after search had been made for him in various directions, he was discovered alone, sitting quietly by the side of a brook which he could not get over. “I wonder, child," said the old lady, when she saw him," that hunger and fear did not drive you home.”

“ Fear! grandmamma,” replied the future hero, “ I never saw fear. What is it ?',

Once after the winter holidays, when he and his brother William had set off on horseback to return to school, they came back because there had been a fall of snow; and William, who did not much like the journey, said it was too deep for them to venture on.

“ If that be the case,” said their father, “you certainly shall not go; but make another attempt, and I will leave it to your honour. If the road is dangerous, you may return ; but remember, boys,

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I leave it to your honour !". The snow was deep enough to have afforded them a good excuse, but Horatio was not to be prevailed upon to turn back. “We must go on,” said he ; “ remember, brother, it was left to our honour !”

There were some fine pears growing in the schoolmaster's garden which the boys regarded as lawful booty, and in the highest degree tempting ; but the boldest among them were afraid to venture for the prize. Horatio offered to go upon this errand ; he was let down at night from the bedroom window by some sheets, plundered the tree, was drawn up with the pears, and then distributed them among his schoolfellows, without keeping any for himself. “He only took them,” he said, “because every other boy was afraid.”

Early on a cold and dark spring morning Mr. Nelson's servant arrived at the school, with the expected summons for Horatio to join his ship. The parting from his brother William, who had been for so many years his playmate and bedfellow, was a painful effort, and was the beginning of those hardships which all sailors have to bear in their rough life. His father went with him to London. As the Raisonnable was lying in the River Medway, he was put on the Chatham stage-coach, and on its arrival was set down with the rest of the passengers, and left to find his way on board as well as he could. After wandering about in the cold, without being able to reach his ship, an officer noticed the forlorn appearance of the boy, questioned him, and, happening to be acquainted with his uncle, took him home and gave him some refreshments.

When he got on board, his uncle, Captain Suckling, was not in the ship, nor was any one informed of the boy's coming. He paced the deck the whole remainder of the day, without being noticed by anybody, and it was not until the second day that some one, as he expressed it, “took compassion on him.” We never feel so keenly the want of love, the necessity of being loved, and the sense of utter desertion, as when we first leave our homes, and are, as it were, pushed off on the stream of life. Added to these feelings, the sea-boy has to endure bodily hardships, and the lack of every comfort, even of sleep. Nelson had a feeble body and an affectionate heart, and he remembered through life his first days of wretchedness in the service.

Tit for Tat.



LAW there is of ancient fame,

By Nature's self in every land implanted, Lex talionis is its Latin name ;

But if an English term be wanted,
Give your next neighbour but a pat,
He'll give you back as good, and tell you——tit for tut.
This tit for tat, it seems, not men alone,
But elephants for legal justice own;
In proof of this a story I shall tell ye,
Imported from the famous town of Delhi.
A mighty elephant that swelled the state
Of Aurengzebe the Great,
One day was taken by his driver
To drink and cool him in the river ;
The driver on his neck was seated,

And as he rode along,
By some acquaintance in the throng,

With a ripe cocoa-nut was treated.
A cocoa-nut's a pretty fruit enough,
But guarded by a shell both hard and tough :
The fellow tried, and tried, and tried,

Working and sweating,

Pishing and fretting,
To find out its inside,
And pick the kernel for his eating.
At length, quite out of patience grown,
“ Who'll reach me up,” he cries, a stone,

To break this plaguy shell ?
But stay, I've here a solid bone

May do perhaps as well ;
So, half in earnest, half in jest,
He banged it on the forehead of his beast.
An elephant, they say, has human feeling,

And, full as well as we, he knows

The difference between words and blows,
Between horse-play and civil dealing.
Use him but well, he'll do his best,

And serve you faithfully and truly :
But insults unprovoked he can't digest,

He studies o'er them and repays them duly. “To make my head an anvil,” thought the creature, “Was never, certainly, the will of Nature ;



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