"Take care," said Ben, pushing Pat aside; and raising Ella's insensible body from the ground. "Pull this sack, Jack, rub her hands and feet, for she is not dead, as she breathes a little." The noble tars did all in their power to bring her to life. Soon, she breathed freely, but was still insensible.

The sailors belonged to an English ship-of-war, the "Queen Ann" of His Majesty's service, under the command of Admiral Lambert. They were taking in a new supply of water, of which they had fallen short. It was thus they were employed when they heard the cry of distress that attracted them to the place where Ella lay, ready to be drowned.

Come, boys," said Ben, "let's take her on board the Queen Ann; it is the only thing we can do for her." They immediately carried her to the little boat loaded with filled water casks. Plying their oars they soon brought her along side of their vessel, where the sailors on board hailed them with a hearty wel

come.

The sun was just rising in the east as Ben lifted his precious burden from the boat, asking for assistance to help him bear her on board. The request was soon granted. All were astonished at Ben's singular burden.

66

Something

he knew of the young lady. very strange," spoke the Admiral. "When she revives we will find out more about her," said the surgeon.

Several days elapsed before Ella was sufficiently recovered to be able to give an account of herself. They were surprised to hear her speak English. Poor girl, she could not realize where she was. Calling her distracted thoughts together, the last she remembered was the ruffians debating about killing her. She gave the surgeon and Admiral a brief history of all she knew of the peculiar circumstance in which they found her.

"I see no cause that could instigate the wretches to murder you." "I can give you no reason myself," said Ella.

"I am satisfied of the fact, my dear young lady, that there was a reason you are ignorant of. You shall remain with me, and, as soon as possible, I will have the case investigated. I can find out Mrs. Thompson, if she is in England. Perhaps she can solve this problem."

With this conclusion the Admiral made

all the necessary arrangements, and set sail for the purpose of intercepting the French vessels that might be sent to aid the Americans.

After a cruise of nearly a year the Ad

"A young lady, my lord; we were in luck to-night. We found some rascals in the act of murdering her."

"Call the surgeon," shouted the Admiral, "and take her to the cabin, Ben. Stand back, men; give place, the lady is in danger of dying for want of air, and care and medicine." The crowd at length dispersed; and Ben, with the aid of the Admiral, conveyed her to the cabin. The surgeon soon examined her, and, fortunately, found her in no way injured.

After the doctor had administered a cordial they seated themselves by her side, when Ben gave them the history of all

ship Queen Ann at the London dock. Ella had become quite a favorite with the crew, as well as with the soldiers, and her peculiar misfortunes enlisted the sympathy of all.

(Continued.)

WORK.-Earn your own bread, and see how sweet it will be! Work, and see how cheerful you will be! Work, and see how well you will be! Work, and see how independent you will be! Work, and see how happy you will be! Work, and see how religious you will be! for, before you know where you are, instead of repining at Providence, you will find yourself offering up thanks for all the numerous blessings you enjoy. 3

FASHIONABLE FALSEHOOD.

BY MARY MORRIS KIRKE.

"A coquette" are you my dear young lady? and you seem not only willing, but proud to bear the name! "A beautiful, accomplished young lady, but such a coquette," is as high a compliment as you care to receive. It tells the world of your power over the sex called "stern;" of your superior attractions which men, poor souls, cannot resist, so in hopeless misery they are sighing at your feet, ready to die for one smile from your proud lips! Oh! it must be such a fine thing to know one's self so perfectly irresistible! so delightful to be so far above mere every-day woman-kind!

A coquette!" Let us see what qualities are requisite to become that enviable creature.

First in importance, is a pretty face, then a total disregard for truth and sincerity, a throwing aside of real womanly delicacy of feeling, a few showy accomplishments, an unbounded selfishness and vanity, and we have the model coquette ready to start out on her noble mission of heart breaking.

Ah! you shrink from the picture! You, devoid of truth, honor, or womanly delicacy? you, vain, selfish and deceitful?

Yes, my dear young lady, even so! The picture, it is true is not very flattering, but such it is when divested of its varnish and gilding. If God has given you the rich gift of beauty, you should cherish it thankfully, prizing it as one of his choicest blessings, which it certainly is, but always remembering that no merit of your own procured that beauty: but do you receive it thus? Do you not, in acts at least, boast of your beauty, and challenge the admiration of the world? Can you profess to love truth, when every smile is studied, every word and movement the result of art, that you may captivate and then cast coldly aside the victem of your wiles? Can sincerity dwell

within the heart, when the lips speak falsly? Can all the pretty deceits you practice to gain the admiration of men, be the fruit of true, womanly modesty? Never! never! though you may blush, in seeming timidity; your voice be gentle, soft and low, and your eyes wear an expression of retiring modesty, yet the heart beneath is cunning, bold, and nnwomanly! and you cannot retain your self-respect while daily living and acting a lie. "A manly flirt!" If there is anything contemptible upon the earth, it is the man who bears this character. A noble soul truly must he possess, who will trifle with the purest, holiest affections God has giv

en to mortal!

Take the man, who in all his business relations is the "very soul of honor," who would feel it the greatest possible insult should his word be doubted in the least particular, who would be ready to defend his honor with his life, and see him whispering false, lying words of love to that confiding, loving girl at his side, and tell me if you dare, that man has a noble soul! Tell me not of a man's honor when he can trifle with the holiest affections of

a woman's heart!

"Only a little flirtation" says the man, and so the world receives it. Go look into the heart of that trusting girl and see what a little innocent flirtation has done! Go see the sweetness of a first pure love turned into bitterness and despair! Go see the bright morning of life suddenly changed to the blackness of midnight; distrust taking the place of confidence, dispair or cold indifference, where once was hope, and joy; and tell me if you dare that the deciever who wrought the change is an honorable man!-bah! a slander upon the name of honor. Yet society cherishes such men, applauds their integrity, and firm principles, while they go on blighting many a trusting heart, all under the attractive name of "a little flirtation!" After the season of flirtation is over, the man of course looks about him

for a wife, to bestow upon her what little of truth or love remains in his nature. Love! the love of such a man is not worth having! and all the heart a coquette has to bestow is too worthless to accept.

Yet when a man marries one of these envied creatures, his friends exclaim lucky dog! he has carried off the prize!" when in reality he is the most unlucky of all who worshipped at the gilded shrine; and a woman who succeeds in getting a male flirt for a husband, the most unfortunate of her sex.

Nothing can more effectually destroy all capacity for a true, lasting love, than this fashionable lying, called flirtation; yet it seems to be the grand object in society, and to it may be traced many of the unhappy marriages of the present day, and many of the divorces which so disgrace our fair State are but the result of this passion for "a little flirtation.”

When will men and women in society, learn to look upon falsehood as falsehood, whether in a business arrangement, or in affairs of the heart?

When will a strict sense of justice and truth, in love making, take the place of a mean vanity, and lying tongue?

THE MOTHER'S REQUEST.

Remember me when I am old!

When round thy childhood's home The gathering clouds are closing fast,

And night, with storms, shall come. When round the desolate hearth no more, Thy loved ones meet again; When all is lonely there-my son, Think of thy mother then.

Remember me when I am gone!

When o'er my place of rest The holy stars look gently down, In quiet on my breast.

AN ADVENTURE IN PITT RIVER VALLEY, IN 1849.

BY J. S. H.

I crossed the plains in 1849, and entered California by Lassen's "cut-off". which had this peculiarity for a “cut-off, that it was about five hundred miles larger than any other road. During the latter part of my journey I had a poney to ride—a poney of Indian stock, and one of the hardest in the mouth, the toughest in the hide, and the slowest in gait of all hard-mouthed, tough-hided, and slow-gaited Indian ponies. He was a dark iron gray, in color, with a white star in his forehead, and horizontal black stripes down his thighs, from brands put on by his Indian owners. These black stripes gave him a tigerish look, and attracted attention, so that the man who had once seen him could not forget him. I usually had a large pair of bright scarlet blankets fastened upon the saddle, to serve me as a couch whenever I might wish to stop; and these served to distinguish the animal still more.

In following down Pitt river we came about the first of September to a wide and bare plain. The day was a pretty warm one, and I determined to try whether I could not force my poney to go across the hot expanse at a gait a little faster than a walk. I borrowed a spur before leaving camp, and when I got upon the plain began to use it vigorously. But all my spuring did not help the pony along at all; on the contrary, he would turn 'round to bite at the place, as though a fly was pricking him; though at the very time the spur was covered with blood, so furiously had I used it. Finally I broke the spur, or bent it, so that I could no longer strike with the edge of the rowel out, only with

Shall ne'er return again;

Remember then her love-my son,

Think of thy mother then!

G. T. S.

any effect, I took it off and fastened it on the pummel of my saddle.

I was just then at the point where the road was about to leave the river, and

along the waters edge were a number of bushes. I got down and cut four or five long switches of a tough bush, and mounted again. I could over-look nearly the whole plain, and there was no person or living thing in sight before me, and there was no object to break the monotony of the plain, save here or there little clumps of willows, far in the distance.

After making a guess at the distance to be travelled over, and the time to be occupied in it, I drew from its fastenings one of my best switches, and began to use it most industriously, applying it to the tenderest part of the flank. At the first touch he started into a lively trot, but soon slackened off into a slow trot, and all the force and rapidity which I could give to my blows would not induce him to go any faster. Before long my switch was used up, and I was so tired that I had to rest; and pony at once put himself upon a slow walk. The same process was repeated with every switch, the last one being worn out in less than half an hour from the time of starting.

Now, it happened that I habitually carried a butcher-knife that was a butcher-knife-a long, heavy and bright weapon that boded no good to the animal it was to be used upon. After my arm had got rested, I drew my knife and commenced to punch pony with its sharp point. The blood flowed freely, but he took no other notice of it than to look round as if to ask: "What the d-1 are you doing there?" I couldn't stand that, and drawing back, gave him a long and deep cut with the blade across the buttock. The blood spirted from the gash and pony gave a jump, and then went on as before. I became desperate, and began to utter emphatic expletives, which recognized an infinite existence as of great aid in the expression of discontent. I could not afford to inflict any more cuts on pony, so I gave up the attempt to get him into a trot as a bad job, and wiping my knife on his hide, I was about to re

turn it to its sheath when I noticed the motion of the bones at the hip-joint, and I gave the tip end of the thigh-bone a hearty whack with the back of the knife. I had found the tender spot; pony jumped so quick as nearly to throw me off, and at once started off on a quick gallop. I was wonderfully pleased, and gave an Indian yell of delight. This was a kind of music to which he had been familiar in colthood, and it seemed to help him along. So I continued to yell and whoop in the most approved style, meanwhile brandishing my knife and bringing its back down frequently on the blessed hipjoint. I went on thus for some time at first-rate speed, wonderfully tickled at my discovery of the tender spot, and at the sound of my voice. While racing along, yelling, brandishing my knife, raising a great dust in the road, and with my red blankets flying, I saw four or five men-from their dress evidently emigrants like myself-run out from a little clump of willows about a hundred yards in front of me, and level their rifles at me. I reined up at once; pony stopped with wonderful suddenness, and I stared at the fellows, wondering what their conduct meant. As soon as I stopped they dropped their guns, and said: "Why, it's himself," and burst into a hearty laugh. I recognized them as a party of Kentuckians, whom I had met frequently on the road, and knew to be first-rate fellows. When they laughed I started pony again, and I was soon among them. Of course I asked what they meant by aiming at me as they had done, and they replied that they recognized my pony and my blankets, but could not see me on account of my holding my head down, and they supposed, from the yell and knifebrandishing, that an Indian had killed me and was running off with the pony! We had a hearty laugh over the mistake, and another one over my discovery of the best way to make an Indian pony trot.