And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill;

But one was there, who rose and said

To the wild sea, "Be still!"

And the wind ceased-it ceased!-that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,

And sank beneath his eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,
And silence on the blast,
As when the righteous fall asleep,
When death's fierce throes are past.

Thou that didst rule the angry hour,
And tame the tempest's mood,
Oh! send thy spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood!

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride,
Thy mandates to fulfil,

Speak, speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak, and say, "Peace, be still."

LESSON EIGHTY-SECOND.

SEVERITY OF DISCIPLINE.

Frederick the Great was one of the most rigid discipli narians that ever commanded an army; and, although he was not deficient in humanity, yet, in order to preserve strict subordination in his army, he sometimes acted with a degree of severity that would appear to others cruel. When he was once persuaded of what he conceived to be the necessity of any measure, and he had formed his plan, he stifled in his soul every emotion of tenderness which might interfere in its execution. Of this severity, the following are two striking instances.

A common soldier, of the battalion of guards, was so familiar with the king, that he had the liberty of entering his chamber without being announced. He often used this liberty in asking money of Frederick, which he generally spent in the alehouse. Whenever the king refused what he asked for, saying he had no money, the soldier

would reply, "Fritz, look into thy leather purse, and you will there find some few ducats remaining."

This soldier, being one day on guard, had a dispute with his officer, and presented his bayonet, as if he intended to stab him. The officer caused him to be arrested, and the matter was reported to the king, who ordered him to be tried for the offence. The council of war condemned him to die, and the sentence being brought to the king, he signed it without saying a word. Every one supposed he would receive the king's mercy; and the criminal was himself so much convinced of it that he made no preparations for death, and, even to the very moment of his execution, he supposed that they meant only to punish him by fear. However, he was deceived, and executed.

In the first war of Silesia, the king being desirous of making, in the night-time, some alterations in his camp, ordered that, under pain of death, neither fire nor candle should be burning in the tents after a certain hour. He went round the camp himself, to see that his orders were obeyed; and, as he passed by Captain Zietern's camp, he perceived a light. He entered, and found the captain sealing a letter, which he had just finished writing to his wife, whom he tenderly loved.

"Do

you

"What are you doing there?" said the king. not know the orders?" Zietern threw himself at his feet, and begged mercy; but he neither could nor attempted to deny his fault. "Sit down," said the king to him, "and add a few words I shall dictate." The officer obeyed, and the king dictated, "To-morrow I shall perish on a scaffold." Zietern wrote it, and he was executed the next day.

LESSON EIGHTY-THIRD.

THE TEMPLE.

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,

Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,

For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shows you have your closes,
And all must die.,

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like seasoned timber never gives,
But when the whole world turns to coal,

Then chiefly lives.

LESSON EIGHTY-FOURTH.

THE HUMANE INDIAN.

An Indian who had not met with his usual success in hunting, wandered down to a plantation among the back settlements in Virginia; and, seeing a planter at his door, asked for a morsel of bread, for he was very hungry. The planter bid him begone, for he would give him none.

"Will you give me a cup of your beer?" said the Indian." No, you shall have none here," replied the planter. "But I am very faint," said the savage. "Will you give me only a draught of cold water? "_ "Get you gone, you Indian dog; you shall have nothing here," said the planter.

It happened some months after, that the planter went on a shooting party up into the woods, where, intent upon his game, he missed his company, and lost his way: night coming on, he wandered through the forest, till he espied an Indian wigwam.

He approached the savage's habitation, and asked him to show him the way to a plantation on that side of the country. "It is too late for you to go there this evening, sir," said the Indian; "but if you will accept of my homely fare, you are welcome."

He then offered him some venison, and such other re- : freshment as his store afforded, and having laid some bearskins for his bed, he desired that he would repose himself for the night, and he would awake him early in the morning, and conduct him on his way.

Accordingly, in the morning they set off, and the Indian led him out of the forest, and put him into the road which he was to pursue; but just as they were taking leave, he stepped before the planter, and turning round, staring full in his face, asked him whether he recollected his fea

tures. The planter was now struck with shame and confusion, when he recognised, in his kind protector, the Indian whom he had so harshly treated.

He confessed that he knew him, and was full of excuses for his brutal behaviour, to which the Indian only replied, "When you see poor Indians fainting for a cup of cold water, don't say again, 'Get you gone, you Indian dog."" The Indian then wished him well on his journey, and left him.

It is not difficult to say which of these two had the best claim to the name of Christian.

LESSON EIGHTY-FIFTH.

RUNNING FOR LIFE.

On the arrival of the exploratory party of Lewis and Clarke at the head waters of the Missouri, one of their number, of the name of Colter, observing the appearance of abundance of beaver, got permission to remain and hunt for some time, which he did, in company with a hunter named Potts. Aware of the hostility of the Blackfeet Indians, one of whom had been killed by Lewis, they set their traps at night, and took them up early in the morning, remaining concealed during the day.

They were examining their traps early one morning, in a creek about six miles from that branch of the Missouri called Jefferson's Fork, and were ascending in a canoe, when they suddenly heard a great noise, resembling the trampling of animals; but they could not ascertain the fact, as the high perpendicular banks on each side of the river impeded their view.

Colter immediately pronounced it to be occasioned by Indians, and advised an instant retreat; but was accused of cowardice by Potts, who insisted that the noise was caused by buffaloes, and they proceeded on. In a few minutes afterwards their doubts were removed by a party of Indians making their appearance on both sides of the creek, to the amount of five or six hundred, who beckoned them to come on shore.

As retreat was now impossible, Colter turned the head of the canoe to the shore, and, at the moment of its touching, an Indian seized the rifle belonging to Potts; but Colter, who was a remarkably strong man, immediately

retook it, and handed it to Potts, who remained in the canoe, and, on recovering it, pushed off into the river. He had scarcely quitted the shore when an arrow was shot at him, and he cried out, "Colter, I am wounded."

Colter remonstrated with him on the folly of attempting to escape, and urged him to come on shore. Instead of complying, he instantly levelled his rifle at an Indian, and shot him dead on the spot. This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but sound enough reasoning; for, if taken alive, he must have expected to be tortured to death, according to the Indian custom. He was instantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use the language of Colter, "he was made a riddle of."

They now seized Colter, stripped him entirely naked, and began to consult on the manner in which he should be put to death. They were first inclined to set him up as a mark to shoot at; but the chief interfered, and, seizing him by the shoulder, asked him if he could run fast? Colter, who had been some time among the Kee Catsa, or Crow Indians, had, in a considerable degree, acquired the Blackfoot language, and was also well acquainted with Indian customs. He knew that he had now to run for his life, with the dreadful odds of five or six hundred against him, and these armed Indians. He therefore cunningly replied, that he was a very bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters as remarkably swift.

The chief now commanded the party to remain stationary, and led Colter out on the prairie three or four hundred yards, and released him, bidding him save himself if he could. At that instant the war-whoop sounded in the ears of poor Colter, who, urged with a hope of preserving life, ran with a speed at which he was himself surprised.

He proceeded towards the Jefferson's Fork, having to traverse a plain six miles in breadth, abounding with the prickly pear, on which he was every instant treading with his naked feet. He ran nearly half-way across the plain before he ventured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived that the Indians were very much scattered, and that he had gained ground to a considerable distance from the main body; but one Indian, who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and not more than a hundred yards from him.

I