Look'd to the sea for safety? They are gone! Gone with the refluent wave into the deep, A prince with half his people! Ancient towers, And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes, Where beauty oft, and *etter'd worth, consume Life in the unproductive shades of death, Fall prone. The pale inhabitants come forth, And happy in their unforseen release From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy The terrors of the day that sets them free." Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Bernard were conversing in this instructive and interesting manner, with their little family, they were interrupted by the arrival of Jane. She brough a good account of the poor woman, who was already considerably better, and felt her appetite in some measure returning. "I think, Ma'am," continued Jane, "that a little sago or tapioca, or something of that kind, would be very nice and nourishing for her to take, before she settles for the night." Mrs. Bernard quite approved this proposition: she desired Emily to bring a small jar of tapioca from the closet in the store-room, and giving Jane a sufficient quantity for the poor woman's supper, dismissed her again to her charge. The children all rejoiced to hear so good an accouont, and begged their mother would allow them to walk to the cottage the following morning. She readily promised a compliance with their request, provided the weather should prove favourable. Louisa, who had been for some minutes examining the tapioca, exclaimed: "Pray, mamma, what is this; I cannot make it out: it does not look like a seed, I think." _Mrs. B_. It is, my dear, the produce of a plant, but not its seed. The plant is called cassada, and it grows in the Cape Verd Islands, as well as in Rio de Janeiro, and many other parts of South America. The root is a wholesome vegetable, but the expressed juice from it is a rank poison. "How extraordinary!" said Ferdinand: "I should think they could not eat the root, without taking the juice also." "You will be still more surprised," said his mother, "to hear that this very juice, after standing some time, deposits a sediment, which, when dried, is not only wholesome, but extremely nutritious: and, in fact, forms the tapioca which Louisa now holds in her hand." "And sago, mamma," said Ferdinand, "is that the produce of a plant too?" _Mrs. B_. Yes, my dear; it is obtained from a plant which grows in the East Indies: the medullary, or pithy part of which, is beaten with water, and made into cakes. These the Indians use as bread. This, when reduced into granules and dried, forms the sago we find so nourishing to persons of weakly and delicate constitutions. But it is now, my dear children, quite time to retire.