upon it as if he had been a young giant. Then all the other boys yelling, "Hold on, Step Hen! hold tight, Step Hen!" suddenly let go.

9. Up went the sapling, and up went Step Hen with it, twelve feet or more into the air, when he was, alas! flung off more violently than he was ever snapped from any whip. Whirling over and over, down he came, sprawling upon all fours, in the midst of shrieks of laughter, which suddenly ceased when it was found that he lay perfectly still where he had fallen. A recent thaw had swept away the snow, and his head had struck the frozen ground.

10. The boys ran and picked him up; but his head dropped helplessly to one side, and his face was ashy pale. One shook him and touched his faded cheek with a trembling hand; but the light had gone out of the innocent young eyes, and neither kind words nor cajolery could coax the little heart to beat again. He was dead. OUR YOUNG FOLKS.

THE TRUE LIFE.

So should we live, that every hour
May die as dies the natural flower-
A self-reviving thing of power;
That every thought and every deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed;
Esteeming sorrow, whose employ
Is to develop, not destroy,
Far better than a barren joy.

LORD HOUGHTON.

LESSON VI.

A THUNDER-STORM AT SEA.

Åft (nautical), near the stern

of a ship; abaft.

Er'e bus (myth.), the region

to the yard by means of the rigging used for that purpose, as in furling, or folding, sails.

of the dead; a dark and dismal Fore'eas tle (nautical), that

place.

Yärd (as here used), a long,

part of the upper deck of a vessel forward of the foremast.

round, tapering piece of tim Côr po sănt, an electrical flame,

ber, suspended upon the mast,
on which the sail of a ship is
extended.

Roy'al (nautical), a small
sail spread immediately above
what is called the top-gallant-
sail.

Clew (nautical), to draw up

or light, which sometimes hovers about the masts of a ship on stormy nights. Lär'board, the left side of a ship, when a person stands with his face toward the bow.

Nau'tie al, pertaining to sailors, or to the art of navigation.

\HE first night after the trade winds left us, while

THE

we were in the latitude of the Island of Cuba, we had a specimen of a true tropical thunder-storm. A light breeze had been blowing from aft during the first part of the night, which gradually died away, and before midnight it was dead calm, and a heavy black cloud had shrouded the whole sky.

2. When our watch came on deck at twelve o'clock, it was as black as Erebus; the studding-sails were all taken in, and the royals furled; not a breath was stirring; the sails hung heavy and motionless from the yards, and the stillness and the darkness, which was almost palpable, were truly appalling. Not a word was spoken, but every one stood as though waiting for something to happen.

3. Soon the mate came forward again, and gave an order, in a low tone, to clew up the main top-gallant sail; and so impressive were the awe and silence that the clew-lines and bunt-lines were hauled up without any singing out at the ropes. An English lad and myself went up to furl it, and we had just got the bunt up, when the mate called out to us something, we did not hear what; but, supposing it to be an order to bear-a-hand, we hurried and made all fast, and came down, feeling our way among the rigging.

4. When we got down we found all hands looking aloft, and there, directly over where we had been standing, upon the main top-gallant mast-head, was a ball of light, which the sailors call a corposant (corpo santo), and which the mate had called out to us to look at. They were all watching it carefully, for sailors have a notion that if the corposant rises in the rigging it is a sign of fair weather, but if it comes lower down there will be a storm.

5. Unfortunately, as an omen, it came down, and showed itself on the top-gallant yard-arm. We were off the yard in good season, for it is held a fatal sign to have the pale light of the corposant thrown upon one's face. As it was, the English lad did not feel comfortable at having had it so near him, and directly over his head.

6. In a few minutes it disappeared, and showed itself again on the fore top-gallant yard, and, after playing about for some time, disappeared once more, when the man on the forecastle pointed to it upon the flying-jibboom end. But our attention was drawn from watching this by the falling of some drops of rain, and by a perceptible increase of the darkness, which seemed suddenly to add a new shade of blackness to the night.

7. In a few minutes, low, grumbling thunder was heard, and some random flashes of lightning came from the south-west. Every sail was taken in but the topsails; still, no squall appeared to be coming. A few puffs lifted the topsails, but they fell again to the mast, and all was as still as ever. A moment more, and a terrific flash and peal broke simultaneously upon us, and a cloud appeared to open directly over our heads, and let down the water in one body, like a falling ocean.

8. We stood motionless, and almost stupefied; yet nothing had been struck. Peal after peal rattled over our heads, with a sound which seemed actually to stop the breath in the body, and the "speedy gleams" kept the whole ocean in a glare of light. The violent fall of rain lasted but a few minutes, and was followed by occasional drops and showers; but the lightning continued incessant for several hours, breaking the midnight darkness with irregular and blinding flashes.

9. During all this time there was not a breath stirring, and we lay motionless, like a mark to be shot at, probably the only object on the surface of the ocean for miles and miles.

10. A ship is not often injured by lightning, for the electricity is separated by the great number of points she presents, and the quantity of iron which she has scattered in various parts. The electric fluid ran over our anchors, topsail sheets, and ties, yet no harm was done to us, and when, at seven bells, the customary "All the larboard watch, ahoy !" brought us on deck, it was a fine, clear, sunny morning, the ship going leisurely along, with a soft breeze and all sail set.

R. H. DANA, JR.

A

SILLY

young cricket, accustomed to sing

Through the warm sunny months of gay summer and spring,

Began to complain, when he found that at home

His cupboard was empty, and winter was come.

Not a crumb to be found

On the snow-covered ground;

Not a flower could he see,

Not a leaf on a tree;

"Oh, what will become," said the cricket, "of me?"

II.

At last, by starvation and famine made bold,

All dripping with wet, and all trembling with cold,

Away he set off to a miserly ant,

To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant

Him shelter from rain,

And a mouthful of grain.
He wished only to borrow,
And repay it to-morrow:

If not, he must die of starvation and sorrow.

III.

Said the ant to the cricket, "I'm your servant and friend;

But we ants never borrow, we ants never lend.

But tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by

When the weather was warın?" Said the cricket, "Not I!
My heart was so light

That I sang day and night,
For all nature looked gay."
"You sang, sir, you say?

Go, then," said the ant, "and dance winter away."