of the fierce and destructive tornado, that ushered in the autumnal equinox of 1787. Its fury was felt by the storm-tossed seaman, as his frail bark drove onward to destruction, and its disastrous results might in part be gathered, from the many evidences of its triumph as strewn along the shores of Cape Cod. The tempest proved as transient as it was violent, and the sun, that shone out on the morrow of the storm, steeped its rays in the now tranquil ocean, which, apparently conscious of the ruin it had wrought, seemed to atone for its mischief by studied repose. The regular swell of the sea succeeded the raging billows of the night—the shrill demon of the tempest had retired to his northern caves, and in his stead, the playful zephyrs of the south wantoned upon the waters. The hardy wreckers were out upon the beach as usual, after a night of storm, culling a harvest from the spoils which the ocean had cast upon their shores. Men, women and children were engaged in this employment, and so inured had they become to their somewhat equivocal profession, that whether the object they inspected was the corpse of the shipwrecked, or a cask of West India, the same _sang froid_ was evinced, and they proceeded as leisurely to rifle the garments of the disfigured and ghastly dead, as in breaking open a sea chest. An unusually well stowed bale had drawn the attention of the crowd, and they were busily employed in turning over its contents, when an exclamation of surprise from an idler upon the strand caused the party to turn in the direction he pointed, and they beheld the object that had elicited his outcry. Drifting in towards the land, they saw a floating spar, upon which rode a small lad of some sixteen or seventeen years, supporting in his arms what seemed the lifeless form of a female. There was something so noble in this generous devotion to another's safety in the hour of deadly peril—a touching display of all that ennobles, in the conduct of one so young, thus jeopardizing his own doubtful chance of preservation, in the rescuing from the fierce waters their prey, that even the cold and sluggish feelings of the men of Barnstable were moved to admiration, and forgetting personal advantage in the excitement of the moment, they awaited but the approach of the float within range of their interference, when they rushed into the surge, and with deafening plaudits bore the young mariner and his burthen to the land. The boy relaxed not his hold of his companion, until he had safely deposited her in the arms of the bystanders, when, throwing one look upon her wan and lifeless features, he cast his eyes to heaven, and murmuring, “Thanks, merciful Father! she is saved!” he sank insensible upon the sand.