But a still more thrilling spectacle awaited us. In the height of the conflagration, the hapless Percy, bearing his dead wife in his arms, emerged as it were from the very midst of the flames, and took a stand on the companion-way. So strongly was the tall, dark-figure relieved against the glowing element, that his slightest gesture could not escape our scrutiny. While with one arm he spanned the waist of the supple corse, which apparently struggled to escape from his grasp, he waved the other on high as if exulting in the whirl and commotion around him. He seemed like the minister of some dark rite of heathenism, preparing to offer up a victim to the Moloch of his superstition. At length arrived the dreadful moment! The black hull seemed to be lifted bodily out of the water. A volume of smoke burst over her like the first eruption of a volcano! A spire of flame shot up to the heavens, filling the firmament with burning fragments, while the clouds that overhung the sea, were torn and scattered by the tremendous concussion. A crash followed--a deep, bellowing boom, as if the solid globe had split asunder!--then all was darkness--dreary, void, silent as death! TO M***, ON HER BIRTH-DAY. By William Cutter. What though the skies of winter Look cold and cheerless now! What though earth wears no mantle But that of ice and snow! Though trees, all bare and leafless, Stretch up their naked arms, In sad and mournful silence, To brave the wintry storms! There is enough of sunshine, Fond memory will say, Around this morning clustered-- _This is thy natal day!_ What though the birds of summer, Flown far and long away, In gentler climes are warbling, Their loved and grateful lay! What though, in field and garden, No fragrant incense pours From nature's thousand altars-- Her blossoms and her flowers! There's music sweet as angels', And fragrance sweet as May, In the thoughts that breathe and blossom Around _thy natal day_! To me, the skies above us Are bright as summer's noon! And trees, in crystal blossoms, More brilliant than in June! There's music in the wintry blast-- There's fragrance in the snow-- And a garb of glorious beauty On every thing below! For oh! affection, wakened With morning's earliest ray, Has never ceased to whisper-- _This is thy natal day!_ RELIGIOUS OBLIGATION IN RULERS. By John W. Chickering. It is a great truth, and worthy of a place among the few grand principles which lie at the foundation of all wise and just government, that 'the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men.' This may be understood _de jure_, or _de facto_; and in either sense must be believed, not only by those who admit, on the authority of the prophet, that it was spoken by a divine voice, but by all who do not deny the whole theory of an overruling Providence.