she had imbibed her first principles of religion, which, so far from having rendered her mind gloomy, austere, or melancholy, had taught her that cheerful and rational pleasure was the only basis on which a true sense of christianity was formed, and that an All-wise and Merciful Being does not forbid us to partake of those many and manifold blessings which he has so kindly provided for our use; he had made them in vain, if his creatures were not to enjoy them. No; Agatha had learned that it is only when we pervert his good and gracious gifts, that we render ourselves then unworthy of possessing them. And, What has innocence to do with fear? was, perhaps, the first lesson which was impressed on the mind and the heart of the youthful noviciate, in the Convent of the Holy Sisters. She had neither taken the veil, nor was abjured to do so by the guardians who had placed her there; and was, consequently, unbiassed in her moral principles and religious duties, by the austere and rigid laws of the convent, or the sentiments of those who had already embraced a monastic life; for, before this young and lovely female had so deeply drank of the cup of sorrow, she had been lively as the bounding doe, though harmless and as gentle as the innocent dove. But the elastic spirit which health, fresh glowing in the first dawn of roseate beauty, had given to her blooming cheek, had suddenly received a check, and that the rose was pulled, though time had not withered up its charms, was evident, from the languor which too often pervaded almost every feature of a countenance which, whether it expressed mirth or melancholy, was always beautiful.

The unexpected shock which the feelings of Agatha now sustained, was, indeed, so agonizing as to render every nerve powerless, by the sudden whirlwind of calamity which had overtaken her. When she thought of being perfectly secure, and ultimately safe from every evil, the death of her only earthly protector, (for so Agatha had been taught to believe that Captain Singleton really was,) had torn every fibre of her gentle heart asunder; and no sooner had the worthy fisher departed from the cottage, than she wept abundantly, and beheld herself in the situation that she actually was-an orphan; not, indeed, entirely destitute of protection, or without the means of supplying her present wants, but was it the protection of a father? or were those the means to which she had been accustomed? No, surely not: yet still it was protection, and still those means were left; for she could not doubt of the honourable intentions of the benevolent fisher towards her; and the valuable jewels which were stili in her possession, and which she was at full liberty to part with whenever she found such an expedient necessary, would always enable her to repay the obligation she shou.d incur under the roof of Peter Blust; and this thought was so consoling to Agatha, even in the present state of her most anguished feelings, that she endeavoured to moderate the excess of her grief; and perceiving the anxiety which was depicted in the countenance of her faithful Claribelle, who was hanging over her in silent, but tender and respectful sorrow, she exclaimed,

"I will weep no more, Claribelle; 'tis ungrateful to murmur at Providence, while it yet leaves the

means of consolation in our power. Alas! could tears recal my poor father, I had shed enough in the ocean, where he has found a watery grave; but well do I know that ocean will not give up its dead, nor will Heaven restore what it has taken away."

To which Claribelle, rejoiced to perceive in the countenance of her young and lovely mistress an expression of composure and resignation, which, from the nature of her misfortune, she had not expected would so soon have taken place, replied,

“And you think rightly, my dear young lady; may Heaven, which has afflicted you so deeply, still give you fortitude to bear the loss you have sustained, which, it is very true, that all the tears you have shed will not bring back to you again. Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of Providence, but when were they ever unjust or unwise? Had your father still been permitted to have remained a sojourner in this world's earthly space, greater calamities might have befallen both him and you. Be comforted, therefore, dear Miss Agatha; for while you are good and innocent, you will never have much cause to mourn."

"It is true, Claribelle," answered Agatha," that I have heard only the wicked can be really miserable; but are they not, therefore, doubly to be commiserated, whose state is such, that no consolation can be given to their sufferings?”

"Yet still there is consolation, madam," cried Claribelle," even to the unworthy, if they are penitent. Repentance must surely be atonement, when it is breathed from a broken, humble spirit, and a contrite heart."

At these words Agatha, assisted by Claribelle, arose from the couch which she had washed with her tears, while she continued at intervals to address her attendant, in terms that proved how firmly she relied on the further protection of that Providence which had not yet wholly deserted her.

"I have always been taught the necessity of exer. tion, Claribelle," uttered she, as she bound up the clustering locks of dark brown hair, which had fallen in negligence over her transparent neck, in the first moments of her violent and heart-felt grief, "I have always been obliged to exert the faculties of my senses, and I now learn how necessary it is to practise it, blessed be the convent of the Holy Sisters! had I never entered that sanctuary, I had not known how to temper misfortune with patience and philosophy."

"Say, rather, with fortitude, my dear Miss Agatha," cried Claribelle, half smiling, "and leave philosophy out of the question; it is too cold, too rigid a term for one so young, so beautiful, as you are; and Heaven grant that you may never have occasion to feel that it is such! yet why do I fear? you have more good sense and prudence than any young female I ever beheld, and may that be your talisman in the hour of temptation !"

"Temptation!" uttered Agatha, not perfectly un. derstanding the meaning which was applied by Claribelle, "what can so wretched a being as I am, Claribelle, have to do with temptation? if, indeed, you mean the temptation of vanity or ambition, I have none, but to do good, and to think myself unworthy still of the blessings that I share. I never did evil that I know of, nor ever will, if I can avoid it."

"Then you must avoid the temptation, my dear young lady," still gravely repeated Claribelle, "for the temptation which I mean too frequently assails us in the shape of good, and by that we are deceived.”

Some refreshment was now offered to Agatha by the hand of Claribelle, which she partook of much to the satisfaction of her companion, after which the most anxious enquiries were made respecting the health of the two young invalids, the poor shipwrecked boys; and Shelty, who was left in charge of them by the honest fisher, was instantly summonsed into the presence of Miss Singleton to give an account of them, and who replied to her enquiry of,—" Good Sir, how are the poor boys?" in the following manner :

"By my faith, lady, there is one of them as stout and as strong as a Hercules, and the other has no more life in him than a mussel; yet he is the prettiest fellow of the two for all that, and, I will be sworn, comes of noble parentage, for he has the air of a quality gentleman; but the other is as surly and unlicked a cub as ever you beheld! he has no more manners than a bear, with all the mischievous tricks of a monkey."

"You do not believe then, Mr. Shelty, that these boys are brothers ?" cried Agatha : to which he answered,―

"Brothers! not they indeed, my lady; I might as well suppose that a herring and a lobster inhabited one shell."

"And do they give no account of themselves?" rejoined Agatha, "do they not know the names of their parents, nor the country from whence they came?"

"I have asked them that question full twenty