The first thing he did was to stop up every aperture to the cellar with sacks of wet hay, so that no smoke or vapour could escape from it; he then procured a large pan of charcoal, which he set fire to, and upon which he threw a quantity of sulphur. Placing this in the cellar, he carefully closed the door, judging, and very correctly, that suffocation would very shortly put an end to the dog and his sufferings.

With a lighter heart than usual he went to his usual avocations, but before retiring for the night he proceeded to open the cellar door that he might be convinced the cause of his alarm was really no longer in existence. Strange to tell, in his anxiety, he omitted to take the precaution of removing the sacks to let out the foul air. The instant he opened the door the vapour overpowered him, and he sank senseless to the ground.

The following morning when his men came to work, they found him lying dead by the side of his dog.

Thus the old woman's prophecy was fulfilled, and the wrong avenged; and all arising from a want of kindness to a poor dumb animal.

THE RAINBOW.

CHRISTOPHER CHRISTIAN STURM.

WHEN the sun darts his rays upon the drops of water which fall from the clouds, when our backs are turned to the sun and we face the clouds, then we can discover a rainbow. We must consider the drops of rain as little transparent balls, upon which the rays of light are twice refracted and once reflected. From hence arise the colours of the rainbow; they are seven, and follow each other in the following order :-red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple. The darkness of the sky behind the bow gives it its peculiar bril

liancy. The drops falling constantly, we every instant see a fresh rainbow; and, as every spectator has his particular position, from whence he observes this phenomenon, no two persons see the same rainbow: this beautiful object can only continue so long as the rain falls.

If we consider the rainbow merely as one of the phenomena of nature, it is undoubtedly one of the finest spectacles which we can behold; it presents one of the most beautifully coloured objects which the Creator has exposed to our view; but when we look upon it as the symbol of God's grace and alliance with us, we find it a subject for more edifying reflection.

There can be no rainbow if the clouds extend over the whole of the visible firmament; therefore, whenever we see it we may conclude there will be no deluge, since the rain would in that case fall equally from all parts of the heavens: when the clouds extend over one half of the horizon and the sun shines on the other, we naturally expect a return of fine weather. In order to produce a rainbow, clouds and sunshine must be visible at the same moment: we should not see its beautiful colours if the sky were bright behind it; and hence the advantage of dark clouds, heightening its effect to a degree of brilliancy perfectly enchanting: neither could there be such a display of colour without the action of the sun and the refraction of its rays. object naturally leads us to the most pious reflections.

This

When we behold the magnificent bow in the heavens, should we not exclaim-"How great is the majesty displayed by the Almighty in all his works! How marvellous is the greatness, the goodness he shows forth towards his creatures! How do we see that God remembers his promises! Let all creatures prostrate themselves, and adore Him who so benevolently displays his never-ending love: he has said the world shall not again be drowned, and he spreads forth his bow to remind us of his gracious covenant. Let his name be blessed now and for ever."

But another consoling reflection arises from the contemplation of this object. The sun is behind me and rain is before me: such is the image of my life: oftentimes my face is bathed in tears, but at the same time the sun of justice, bearing healing on its wings, rises behind me.

SUCH IS LIFE.

H. G. ADAMS (of Rochester).

A FAVOURITE text the preacher hath,
"In midst of life we are in death;
Dangers stand thick about our path,
And frail and fleeting is our breath."

And so he preacheth day by day,
And so it is that all things preach,
But little heed we mortals pay
Unto this universal speech.

Or if at times we stand aghast,
Struck by some terrible event,
Aside the terror soon we cast,

Our hearts on worldly things intent.

The voice of warning soon is drowned,
Amid the turmoil and the strife
That evermore our steps surround,
In busy ways of human life.

A throng of mourners to the grave
Late followed one cut off in youth,
Whose early life rich promise gave;
And all were mourners there in truth.

For he who there lay cold and still,
Had entered on a high career;
Had shown the purpose and the will

To serve his fellow creatures here.

Among them one there walked, whose voice
Was loud, whose step was firm and sure;
Who might in manly strength rejoice,
And deem his lease of life secure.

He from his labours then might rest,
And look for many pleasant years,
Not wearied in wealth's toilsome quest,
Not troubled much by cares and fears.
Where is he now? few days have passed,
And he who followed then, is borne
Unto that resting-place-the last,

From whence no travellers return.

Where is he now? they laid him down
To rest that youthful one beside,
Who early off the coil had thrown,

And on life's threshold sunk, and died.

And there together sleep the twain,
One on his journey just set out,
One who had time the height to gain,
And like a conqueror raise the shout.

Sic vita-such is life; so frail,

And yet so proud we mortals be:
Oh, God! forgive us, if we fail
To heed the lessons taught by Thee.
(Copyright-Contributed.)

TRACES OF THE OCEAN.

HUGH MILLER.

WAS it the sound of the distant surf that was in mine ears, or the low moan of the breeze, as it crept through the neighbouring wood? Oh, that hoarse voice of Ocean, never silent since time first began!—

where has it not been uttered? There is stillness amid the calm of the arid and rainless desert, where no spring rises and no streamlet flows, and the long caravan plies its weary march amid the blinding glare of the sand, and the red unshaded rays of the fierce sun. But once and again, and yet again, has the roar of Ocean been there. It is his sands that the winds heap up; and it is the skeleton remains of his vassalsshells, and fish, and the strong coral-that the rocks underneath enclose. There is silence on the tall mountain-peak, with its glittering mantle of snow, where the panting lungs labour to inhale the thin bleak air,where no insect murmurs and no bird flies,-and where the eye wanders over multitudinous hill-tops that lie far beneath, and vast dark forests that sweep on to the distant horizon, and along long hollow valleys where the great rivers begin. And yet once and again, and yet again, has the roar of Ocean been there. The elegies of his more ancient denizens we find sculptured on the crags, where they jut from beneath the ice into the mist-wreath; and his later beaches, stage beyond stage, terrace the descending slopes. Where has the great destroyer not been,—the devourer of continents, -the blue foaming dragon, whose vocation it is to eat up the land? His ice-floes have alike furrowed the flat steppes of Siberia and the rocky flanks of Schehallion, and his nummulites and fish lie embedded in great stones of the pyramids hewn in the times of the old Pharaohs, and in rocky folds of Lebanon still untouched by the tool. So long as Ocean exists, there must be disintegration, dilapidation, change; and should the time ever arrive when the elevatory agencies, motionless and chill, shall sleep within their profound depths to awaken no more,—and should the sea still continue to impel its currents and to roll its waves,every continent and island would at length disappear. and again, as of old, "when the fountains of the great deep were broken up,"

"A shoreless ocean tumble round the globe."