shutters to be shut, and the candles to be brought in, as usual; but hour after hour passed, and he was not to be found. Bed-time arrived, and William's mother, having seen everything done that was in her power to provide for his safety, resolutely determined, for fear of alarming her husband, to go to bed as usual, though she was herself much too unhappy to sleep for a moment. All this time poor William had lost his way in the wood. He knew the road very well by day-light; but the sun was setting when he left his uncle's, and by the time he got into the middle of the wood it was quite dark; and having taken a wrong turning, he soon found himself in a sort of wilderness, where, though he could just get on through the underwood with much difficulty, yet nothing like the right road could he find. He tried first going a little to the left, and then a little to the right, and then he got off and led his donkey backwards and forwards, still expecting to get back into the road; but instead of this, he only ran up against a great tree, or fell over an old stump of one, or tore his legs in the brambles. So at last he was obliged to give it up, and then he began to feel very much frightened. He was frightened for himself, when he thought of staying alone all night in the wood; but he was not a selfish child, he did not think only of his own distress; the thoughts of his mother and his poor father came into his mind, and putting his hands before his face, he burst into tears. : In a very little while, however, he recovered himself, and drying his eyes, determined to make another attempt to find his way on. This was quite as unsuccessful as before. After wandering about for a long time, he at last came to an open place in the wood here he stopped, and tried to rally his spirits, by thinking of all the most entertaining things he had ever heard or read of. "Now," thought he, "if I was a wild man of the woods, I should live all my life in such a place as this: or if I was Robin Hood, I should take up my quarters here with Little John, and call to my 'merry-men all' to come and feast with me. But I have neither merry-men to call, nor feast to eat, and it begins to be very, very cold," said he, shuddering from head to foot, and feeling that these fanciful thoughts were not sufficient to entertain him now. "Perhaps I shall die before the night is over," thought he, as the wind whistled mournfully amongst the trees, and the dry leaves pattered down at his feet. "I shall die with cold, and my poor donkey, too, will be starved to death. My father and mother will never see me again: and perhaps they will never know what is become of poor William! And what will become of me if I die?" This awful question, which seldom occurs in full force to so young a mind, carried his thoughts immediately to God, and he knelt down and said his prayers. William had often prayed before, but never with such sincerity and fervor as now. No human being ever addresses himself to God, in spirit and in truth, without finding comfort and support, let his situation be ever so forlorn and desolate; and little William arose from his knees cheered and animated. As he raised his eyes towards heaven, he saw the twinkling stars, which now appeared in the sky, and as they shone through the dark branches of the trees, he recollected the pious instructions of his good father; and many of the lessons which his mother had taught him came into his mind, and brought support and comfort with them. He thought of the great and good God who is equally present every where, who "neither slumbers nor sleeps," and to whom "the night is as clear as the day." He repeated the lines he had learned, "My noon-day walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend." While he was engaged in these comforting medi. tations, he heard a noise at a little distance; he listened, and thought it was only the wind rustling amid the branches of the trees; but in another instant he heard the sound of a man's voice, and halloo ! halloo ! resounded from different parts of the wood. "Perhaps it is a robber!" thought William; but the next instant he considered that a robber would not want to make himself heard; and as he was sure it was much more likely to be some of his father's servants sent out in search of him, he immediately hallooed in return as loud as he possibly could. But poer William had the disappointment of hearing the sound of the voices grow fainter and fainter, till at last they died away in the distance, and he could distinguish them no longer. As he now gave up all hope, and was almost worn out with fatigue and cold, he determined, with great presence of mind, upon the best plan for preserving his life. He took off the saddle from the donkey's back (who was glad of the relief,) and immediately laid down upon the mossy ground, and repeating the words, "I will lay me down in peace, and take my rest," he stretched himself across the back of his poor donkey, hoping that the warmth of the animal would keep him alive, and in this situation the poor little fellow sunk into a sound and peaceful sleep. At the dawn of morning, the servants, who had been all night continuing their search, discovered the poor little boy. He was still sleeping in all the security of innocence. They gently raised him up, and wrapping him in a warm cloak, carried him with all speed to the arms of his happy mother. HYMN. THERE springs to light no beauteous flower That speaks not of its Maker's care; What though it bloom but one short hour? Its dewy fragrance fills the air. No mountain pine, amid the sky, The bee, that stores his curious cell The fountain whence such bounty flows. The condor, mightier than the king The dazzling myriads of the stream, The monsters of the soundless deep, Beneath his eye may sport and gleam, Or in their waters safely sleep. |