cold and tired, and we must do all we can to make him comfortable.’ They instantly retreated—but the two oldest hung over her shoulder, earnestly whispering in her ear. I guessed that I was the subject of their discourse, by hearing the mother reply in a low voice—‘Yes Ulea, you may run and milk Minny, and Korner, get the potatoes ready, and the fish too. By the time you return, he will be dry and warm, I hope.’ With delighted countenances, they shot out of the cottage, and the good woman busied herself in mending up the fire, and spreading a couch of soft skins, on which she invited me to rest my weary limbs. I attempted to speak my gratitude to heaven, and to her, but the words were stifled by the strength of my feelings, which gushed out in tears. She seemed to understand the nature of my emotions. Her tone was soothing and encouraging. ‘God is good,’ she said, ‘and not only saves us in perils, but provides a table in the desert. He puts it in the hearts of strangers to show kindness, and makes us feel that we are all brethren, the children of his care and bounty.’ ‘How,’ said I; ‘in this remote spot of creation, have you learned these heavenly precepts?’ ‘Our lives,’ she answered, ‘are crowned with blessings, and the greatest of all is, that of our dear missionary, who guides our erring footsteps in the way of duty, as he points our hopes to a brighter world.’ While she was speaking, Ulea returned, exclaiming, ‘Ah! mother, Minny seemed to know how much haste I was in, for she stood right still; and here is Korner too, with the fish and potatoes—let us set the dinner for the poor stranger.’ In a few moments the repast was on the table, and I had scarcely taken the seat provided, before my young hosts pressed me to eat of one and another dish, telling me that ‘this was the richest milk because Minny gave it, and these fish were taken by Korner's green rocks.’ I had scarcely finished a hearty meal, when Holstein (for that was the name of the good fisherman) came in, attended by our other deliverers and my two comrades, who having received their hospitality, came with them to consult whether any attempt could be made to save what remained on the wreck. Holstein thought it probable no vestige of the wreck itself was left. But the other fishermen said it might have drifted over the rocks, and still contain something valuable. Under this possibility we followed our conductors to the scene of destruction; but we found it as Holstein had predicted; only a scattered plank here and there marked the place of ruin. Emotions of awe and gratitude filled my soul, when I beheld the vortex from which heaven had rescued us; but my fellow sufferers evinced mortification and disappointment, when their last hope was extinguished, and they saw themselves thrown on the charity of strangers, even for a change of raiment. This was particularly observable in the manner of Osman, a young adventurer,