PETER THE GREAT.

ONE day as the Czar was returning from hunting, he happened to loiter behind the rest of the company, to enjoy the cool air; when looking around, he observed a boy standing on the top bar of a stile, looking earnestly about him; upon which he rode briskly up, and accosted him with, "Well, my boy, what are you looking for?" "An't please your honour," said the boy, “I'm looking out for the king." "Oh," said the emperor, "if you get up behind me, I'll show you him." The boy then mounted; and as they were riding along, the Czar said, "You will know which is the emperor, by seeing the rest take off their hats to him." Soon after the emperor came up to the party, who, much surprised at seeing him so attended, immediately saluted him: when the Czar, turning round his head, said, "Now do you see who's the king?" "Why," replied the boy, archly, "it is one of us two, but I'm sure I don't know which, for we've both got our hats on."

ONE day the long-billed, long-necked, longlegged Heron was walking on the banks of a river, whose water was transparent as crystal; the carp, the pike, the trout, were wantoning up and down the stream. These the Heron might have caught with the greatest ease; but he thought it better to stay till his appetite was more keen. A little time after, his appetite came to him, and he saw tench rising from the sandy bottom; yet these were not delicate enough for his taste; so he was resolved to wait for better fare, and, like the mouse in Horace, was fantastically nice. Our bird stayed for more delicate food till not so much

as one fish appeared. His hunger was then extreme, and he thought himself happy even to meet with a poor Snail.

APPLICATION.

The delay shown by the bird in the Fable, is often exemplified among mankind: many have suffered in neglecting the advantages fortune offers them, until it is too late to retrieve the opportunity they have lost.

THE OLD WRECKER.

Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name.

TOWARDS the close of the 16th century, a horrid custom still prevailed on some parts of the coast of Cornwall, in England, of luring vessels to desruction in stormy weather, by fastening a lantern to a horse's head, and leading it about on the top of the cliffs, that the bewildered mariner, mistaking it for the light of a vessel, and consequently not apprehending land could be in that direction, might be induced to shape his course thither; till the foaming breakers gave too late warning of his fate, and the vessel became the prey of a set of ruthless barbarians called "wreckers;" who, to legalize their plunder, frequently murdered those who had escaped drowning, and then called the wreck a "God-send."

In a hovel, on the craggy shore of a deep and dangerous bay, dwelt one of these wretches-an old and hardened desperado, who united in himself the fisherman, smuggler, and wrecker; but to his depraved mind the two latter were the favourite professions, and such was the confidence of his companions in his experience on these occasions, that he was usually leader, nor did he ever fail in his office. His wife, too, encouraged him in his deeds of iniquity, and sometimes aided in his exploits. Shocked at the wickedness of his parents, their only son had long since fled his home, and driven away by their cruelty, had sought a more honourable course of life on board a West Indian trader.

It was at a period when a long and profitless summer and autumn had nearly passed away, that Terloggan, like the vulture ever watchful for his prey, was more than usually observant of the signs of the heavens; nor was any one more capable than himself of tracing the most distant indications of tempest. Nature had for several months worn a placid, and to honest minds, a delightful aspect: the soft and azure sky had beautifully tinted the transparent sea, and the expanding waves swept with low murmurings along the shining sands of the deep bay, in mild and stately majesty playfully casting up their white foamy margins, and gently splashing the feet of

the craggy rocks. Not more hateful were the beams of the orb of day to Satan, as described by the poet, than was this quiescent state of nature to Terloggan's dark mind: in his impatience he cursed the protracted summer, and hailed the approaching dreary season as more congenial to his interest. At length he saw, with savage delight, the sun sink in angry red beneath the cloudy horizon; he heard, with exulting feelings, the hollow murmuring of the wind, and beheld the blackening waves rising in angry roar, lashing the lofty rocks with the ascending spray. As the night advanced in chaotic darkness, the horrors of the tempest increased; and the long and loud blast of the contending elements seemed enough to overawe any mind but Terloggan's. "Now's the time, boy," said the old hag his wife; "go th' ways out 'pon the cleaves-there's death in the wind." Terloggan speedily equipped himself, and ascended the steep promontory at the entrance of the bay; the lantern was displayed in the usual manner, and he soon observed a light at sea, as if in answer to his own signal; which caused the old demon to rejoice in anticipation of speedy success. The light evidently approached nearer, and ere an hour had elapsed, the white close-reefed sails of the vessel could be discerned through the darkness, and the uproarious cry on board, at the discovery of their danger, could be