as helpless as the little being before her. But only for a moment. All her mother heart was aroused; she warmed and fed and tended the little stranger, till it fell sweetly asleep on her loving bosom.

Then she thought of her good Ephraim. She made up a bed for the baby in her clothes basket, put it in a warm corner, and went out again to see what he was doing. It was time. He was almost exhausted with the labors of the night, and with the bitter pain of seeing so many fellow beings lost. without the power to save them. He needed his wife's helping hand to lead him up the icy hill to their dwelling. But when he saw the bright ruddy stove with the boiling pot of coffee on it, and beside it the little bed with its tiny sleeper, and felt that one precious soul was saved out of the wreck, the brave man turned to his wife and said, "It has not been all in vain." The thought revived him, and Susan's gentle care restored his strength and calmness.

The little baby was sadly exhausted and

looked feeble enough, but Susan hoped to save it. It was her duty, however, before she could call the child her own, to try to discover its relations. She found the clothes which still clung about it were plain and good, such as a respectable woman in middle life would use; but clasped about the little throat was a coral necklace with a gold clasp, and the name "Eugenia." This Susan carefully laid away. As soon as Ephraim and the boy had taken the absolutely needful rest, they went forth again to see the effects of the storm. The clouds were breaking away, but the sea was still in commotion, and the ebbing tide had left many marks of the wreck on the rocks and in the coves. Three mangled bodies came within reach of the men and were drawn on shore. One was a woman's, the mother doubtless of little Eugenia. Ephraim thought that the strong man he had seen with her in his arms must be the Captain of the schooner and her father. He searched eagerly among the planks and spars which were drifting about, for something to tell

him the name of the ship. At length he discovered a piece of the name, much defaced and broken of course, but he believed that he could make out that it was the Jane and Eliza of Halifax.

Without spending more time in conjectures, he turned to the sad duty before him. The bodies were carried to a shed and prepared for decent burial. As soon as the sea was calm enough to row a boat, he went on shore with his report of the casualty, and also visited the minister of the town to ask him to come and perform a simple service, before the bodies were buried. The good man braved the winter sea not alone to bury the dead, but to see the little living child and to give Ephraim and Susan such advice and help as they might need. He agreed to send to a Halifax paper an account of the shipwreck and the rescue of the child, with a notice to any near of kin who might wish to claim it; but he said he had little hope of finding her friends. He thought mother and child were most probably emigrants from Ireland, coming to meet friends