ferent about swallowing the bait. Two tedious hours passed away, and not one was caught.

The boys were so intently occupied in their vocation as fishermen, that they did not notice the approach of a shower, which was blackening over their heads. A flash of lightning first made known to them the unpleasantness of their situation. At this signal, they drew in their lines, and in some agitation tried to hoist the sail. But they found that the wind was too violent to permit them to do this. They had but one oar, and taking it in his hands, William Ray undertook to scull the boat ashore, but he had not proceeded far, when a flash of lightning almost blinded his eyes, and a peal of thunder rolling over head, seemed to shake the very hills. In his dismay, William unfortunately permitted the oar to slip from its place, by which accident he was, with it, pitched into the water. All the boys rose from their seats, when they beheld him fall, and in rising, they jolted the boat so violently, that it was upset.

Now all was terror and confusion. Those who could swim were pulled down by those who could not. Some managed to cling hold of the boat, while others seized upon a log, which was fortunately floating by, and thus kept themselves from sinking. Some workmen on the opposite shore had witnessed their misfortune, and, obtaining another boat, now came to their assistance. The boys were all sayed from drowning, but there were some who had sunk three times, and in whom life was not far from being extinct. These were carried to a house near the

shore, where they soon recovered. The other boys thought that they had better make the best of their way home. And a melancholy return it was. The rain was pouring in torrents, but this they did not mind much, after their drenching in the pond.

Now let us return to little Edmund, whom we left downcast and disconsolate, because he could not "go with Bill Ray, upon the pond." He wandered about the house for a long while, uttering his complaints to every one who would listen. At last, it commenced raining, and the idea occurred to him that it must be far more unpleasant on the pond than in the cheerful looking parlor, where he was seated. This reflection consoled him, and he began to consider that his father was in the right. Just at that moment the clouds broke away, and the sun looked forth upon the refreshed earth with dazzling splendor. The trees tossed from their leaves the silvery drops. The little birds ventured forth, and welcomed the returning brightness with a song of delight.

Edmund opened the door and stood upon the steps, opposite to the road. Who can those boys be, whom he sees straggling along in that mournful and wobegone plight? Their clothes are dripping with water. Some are without shoes, and some without hats. Their appearance is both melancholy and ludi

crous.

"Can that be Bill Ray?" exclaimed Edmund, as he ran down towards the road. "It is him, sure enough." And he addressed his forlorn friend in terms of condolence and inquiry.

"You look wet, William," said he; "the shower must have been pretty heavy where you were. Did you catch many fish? Come in, boys, and dry yourselves. There is a good fire on the kitchen hearth." "No," replied William; "we had better return home as soon as possible. We were up- up—up set in the boat, and the fish wouldn't-bite-andgood bye."

The boys passed on, and Edmund stood looking on them with sincere pity and regret. He felt glad that he had escaped their misfortune, but sympathised with the downfall of their hopes, and the disastrous issue of their excursion. The circumstance did not pass off without leaving on his mind a healthful impression. He afterwards was inclined to look upon his disappointments as happening for his benefit, rather than for his injury, and, whatever event might occur, to console himself with the belief that it was "all for the best."

PLEASANT WEATHER.

"Tis a pleasant afternoon,

Not a cloud is in the sky, And the brook with quiet tune, Lazily goes winding by.

On the leafy chesnut bough,
See that little bird alight!
There! its wings are moving now-
And away it takes its flight.

How the trees all silent stand,
With their covering of green!
And my cheeks are hardly fanned
By the wind, that flies unseen.

See the white and quiet sheep,
Lying on the sunny ground,
Some awake and some asleep,

While their lambs are playing round!

And the cows are on the hill,

Looking down upon the brook,

Idly chewing something still,

With a very stupid look.