of defiance, and their curses heard above the roar of the storm. Intemperance never displayed itself in more distressing attitudes.

At length, Death began to do his work. The miserable creatures fell every hour upon the deck, frozen stiff and hard. Each corpse, as it became breathless, was laid upon a heap of dead, that more space might be left for the survivors. Those who drank most freely, were the first to perish.

On the third day of these horrors, the inhabitants of Plymouth, after making many ineffectual attempts, reached the wreck, not without danger. What a melancholy spectacle! Lifeless bodies, hardened into every form, that suffering could devise.

Many lay in a vast pile. Others sat, with their heads reclining on their knees; others, grasping the ice-covered ropes; some in a posture of defence like the dying gladiator: and others, with hands held up to heaven, as if deprecating their awful fate.

Orders were given to search earnestly for every mark or sign of life. One boy was distinguished amid a mass of dead, only by the trembling of one of his eye-lids. The poor survivors were kindly received into the houses of the people of Plymouth, and every effort used for their restoration.

The captain and lieutenant, and a few others, who had abstained from the use of ardent spirits, survived. The remainder were buried, some in separate graves, and others in a large pit, whose hollow is still to be seen, on the south-west side of the burial ground in Plymouth.

The funeral obsequies were most solemn. When

the clergyman, who was to perform the last services, first entered, the church, and saw more than seventy dead bodies, some fixing upon him their stony eyes, and others, with faces stiffened into the horrible expression of their last mortal agony, he was so affected, as to faint,

Some, were brought on shore alive, and received every attention, but survived only a short time. Others, were restored after long sickness, but with limbs so injured by frost, as to become cripples for life.

In a village, at some distance from Plymouth, a widowed mother, with her daughter, were seen constantly attending a couch, on which lay a sufferer. It was the boy, whose trembling eye-lid attracted the notice of pity, as he lay among the dead.

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Mother, he said, in a feeble tone, God bless you for having taught me to avoid ardent spirits. It was this that saved me. After those around me grew intoxicated, I had enough to do, to protect myself from them.

Some attacked, and dared me to fight; others pressed the poisonous draught to my lips, and bade me drink. My lips and throat were parched with thirst. But I knew if I drank with them, I must lose my reason as they did, and perhaps, blaspheme my Maker.

One by one, they died, those poor, infuriated wretches. Their shrieks and groans, still seem to ring in my ears. It was in vain that the captain and other officers, and a few good men, warned them of what would ensue, if they thus continued to drink,

and tried every method in their power, to 1estore them to order.

They still fed upon the fiery liquor. They grew delirious. They died in heaps. Dear mother, our sufferings from hunger and cold, you cannot imagine. After my feet were frozen, but before I lost the use of my hands, I discovered a box, among fragments of the wreck, far under water.

I toiled with a rope to drag it up. But my strength was not sufficient. A comrade, who was still able to move a little, assisted me. At length, it came within our reach. We hoped that it might contain bread, and took courage.

Uniting our strength, we burst it open. It contained only a few bottles of olive oil. Yet we gave God thanks. For we found that by occasionally moistening our lips with it, and swallowing a little, it allayed the gnawing, burning pain in the stomach.

Then my comrade died. And I laid beside him, like a corpse, surrounded by corpses. Presently, the violence of the tempest, that had so long raged, subsided, and I heard quick footsteps, and strange voices amid the wreck, where we lay.

move.

They were the blessed people of Plymouth, who had dared every danger, to save us. They lifted in their arms, and wrapped in blankets, all who could speak. Then they earnestly sought all who could But every drunkard, was among the dead. And I was so exhausted with toil, and suffering, and cold, that I could not stretch a hand to my deliverers. They passed me again and again. They carried the living to the boat. I feared that I was left behind.

Then I prayed earnestly, in my heart, "Oh Lord, for the sake of my widowed mother, for the sake of my dear sister, save me." I believed that the last man had gone, and besought the Redeemer to receive my spirit.

But I felt a warm breath on my face. I strained every nerve. My whole soul strove and shuddered within me. Still my body was immoveable as marble. Then a loud voice said, "Come back, and help me out with this poor lad. One of his eye-lids trembles. He lives."

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Oh, the music of that voice to me! The trembling eye-lid, and the prayer to God, and your lessons of temperance, my mother, saved me." Then the loving sister embraced him with tears, and the mother said, "praise be to Him who hath spared my son, to be the comfort of my age."

FILIAL VIRTUES OF WASHINGTON.

SOME of the most interesting anecdotes of the early years of Washington, are such as connect him with his mother, or were derived from her narrations. She was a dignified and excellent woman, and is remembered with respect and love, by all who had the honour of her acquaintance.

Her husband died, while their children were young. So, she had the sole care of their government and education. For this great charge she was eminently

qualified. She was often asked what course she had pursued, in training up her illustrious son. And her reply was, "I only required obedience, diligence, and truth."

These were the simple rules by which Washington became good and great. They were wrought in with the elements of his character, until his goodness, became greatness, and his greatness, goodness. Is there any thing, in these three precepts of obedience, diligence, and truth, which those who read this book, are unwilling or careless to observe?

Washington, when a boy, was taught to be accurate in all his statements. He told things exactly as they were, and repeated words just as they had been spoken. If he had committed a fault, he did not try to conceal it, or lay the blame upon others.

Whatever his errors were, and the best child in the world, sometimes does wrong, he always spoke of them to his mother, without disguise, and without delay. This was the foundation of that noble frankness, and contempt of deceit, which distinguished him through life, and made him revered by all.

Once, from an indiscretion of his boyhood, a considerable loss was incurred. He knew that it would interfere with favourite plans of his mother, give pain to her feelings, and perhaps awaken her severe displeasure. But he did not hesitate in his duty. He went immediately to her, and made a full acknowledgment; and she said, "I had rather this should have taken place, than my son should be guilty of a falsehood."

She was careful not to injure him by indulgence, or luxurious food. She required him to rise early.