he fell expitng at her feet, even at the moment when Timoleon and Phocion, followed by a train of warriors, rushed forward in search of the usurper.

"Behold (exclaimed Euphrasia) ny dagger's point reeks with the tyrant's blood-look here yo slaves-kneel to your rightful King! the blow for freedom gives you all the rights of men—and oh my father, my ever beloved, and honoured sire! it gives thee life!"

The followers of Dionysius now sued for pardon, and were forgiven; Evander and Euphrasia were conducted in triumph to the royal palace; solemn sacrifices were offered at the sacred shrines; and Timoleon crowned with laurel was led in triumph through the city; but Evander, aged and unfit for the toils of state, yielded his throne to Phocion and Euphrasia; who were received with joyful acclamations by the people. The young Evander was restored in safety to the arms of his delighted mother, and all was happiness and joy!! The voice of warfare was at an end, and for many years the peace of Syracuse remained undisturbed!

Hail to thee filial love, source of delight
Of everlasting joy! Heaven's grace supreme
Shines in the duteous homage of a child!
Religion, manifested, stands aloft,
Superior to the storms of wayward fate.
When children suffer in a parent's cause
And glory in the lovely sacrifice

"Tis heavenly inspiration fills the breast-
And angels waft their incense to the skies!

Beware, proud man, the first approach to crime.
Indulgence is most dangerous-nay, fatal-
Resist, or soon resistance is in vain.

The first leads to the second, then the third,
The fourth succeeds, until familiar grown
With vice, we start not at our own misdeeds.
Temptation comes, so clothed in speciousness,
So full of sceming, we behold her not
With apprehension, till her baneful pow'r
Has wrestled with our virtue-dreadful state,
When vice steals in, and, like a lurking thief,
Saps the foundation of integrity.

It was just the dawn of morning, when the peaceable family of the Goodwins were roused from their slumbers by a fearful storm; and presently alarmed by signals of distress from a vessel in danger. They experienced great sorrow from the consciousness of their total inability to render any assistance; for the sea was so boisterous, that their little fishing boat would not live many minutes; and should they venture, they would inevitably lose their own lives without being able to afford any assistance to the poor wretches in danger. All they could do was to

put up prayers for their safety, and offer protection to any of the crew who might be cast on shore. Long the storm continued, loud and violent; and the firing of the guns ceasing, they feared all were lost. At length a calm succeeded; the sun arose in splendour; and Goodwin, accompanied by his son and daughter, left their cabin in the rock to reconnoitre, and ascertain if they could now render assistance.

They were just preparing to launch their fishing boat (which had been fortunately hauled on shore the preceding evening), for the purpose of putting out to sea, when they perceived the vessel was stranded, and the crew making to shore in their boat. Fanny Goodwin immediately returned to the cabin, to prepare a good fire, and all the comforts in her power for the poor shipwrecked mariners-while old Goodwin, and his son Philip, hastened to the beach to meet the crew on their landing for though the ship had struck and bilged upon the rocky coast; yet the crew were all providentially saved, and a principal portion of the cargo also preserved. While they were all busily employed in conveying the articles saved to the hut, old Goodwin was startled by the sound of a voice familiar to his ear, and dear

to his heart; he turned round, and clasping his hands, suddenly exclaimed, "It is it is my dear young master, alive and safe-thank God ! thank God!"

Young Belfield, to whom this was addressed, was overjoyed to see his old friend, but shocked to, behold him in so reduced a situation; and still more so, when he learned that his own brother had been the occasion of this sad change of fortune.

Andrew and Robert Belfield were the sons of a most worthy father. They had passed their youth together in amity, but the death of old Mr. Belfield made a great difference in the fortunes of his sons. Andrew, as heir, grew proud, vain, and insolent, and treated his brother Robert with a degreo of disdain, which his high spirit would have been unable to endure, had not hope been kept alive by his regard for Miss Dove, the only daughter of his father's old friend Sir Benjamin Dove. She loved him, and Sir Benjamin seemed disposed to waive his deficiency of fortune, in consideration of his merits; and in this sweet hope Robert bore up against his brother's perpetual insults!

Andrew Belfield was rich, but not happy. Before he had power, he had virtue ; but the weakness of his mind was unequal to prosperity; and although he had known, from his very infancy, his father's possessions must inevitably be his, yet when put in possession of his wealth he became inflated with pride, and what was only weakness, when restricted in power, degenerated into vice and cruelty when that power was unlimited. He was besides of a credulous and wavering disposition; and when abroad, being incautious in nis choice of friends, he had consequently been deceived. He reposed his secrets in the breasts of those, who ungenerously betrayed him. He was unhappy therefore at such repeated instances of depravity; but, not taking