over with leaves. Whether that tale was true we do not know; perhaps as most of such things are, it was only partly true. The fol lowing is an account of the death of two chil dren in a wood in that part of America which is called Canada, and which appears to be quite true.

Two children went astray in the woods, about four miles from Halifax. Their names were Jane Elizabeth, and Margaret Meagher; the elder six years and ten months old; the younger four years and six months. Some hundreds of

people, many of them from Halifax, and comprising some military and Indians, went in search for several successive days. On Friday, a snowstorm occurred, and added painfully to the difficulties and depression on the subject. On Sunday, the remains of the children were found, about six miles from the home of their parents. They were found locked in each other's armsthe younger with its face on the cheek of the elder. The elder had rolled her apron about the more helpless babe. She had the looks of care and sorrow in death, as if, which is not uncommon in similar cases, premature responsibility was felt, and that to secure and shield the little innocent by her side was felt a duty. The younger seemed as if it met death in sleep. Their tender feet were much injured by travel ling-in vain endeavours to reach home. What pangs must have introduced despair into the

childrens' minds, mid their loneliness and hunger, day after day, and night after night, in the wilderness! The parents of the children have been subjects of deep commiseration.

The remains of the little wanderers were interred, on Tuesday, in the burial-ground between Ellenvale and Allan's. They were laid in one coffin, and in the position in which they were discovered. They had a largely-attended funeral, notwithstanding the wet weather.

A reward of £5 was offered to the person who should discover the children. Mr. Peter Currie became entitled to the sum, but he generously declined accepting it; and suggested that it should be appropriated towards the erection of a monument over the grave.

The fine feeling and determination evinced by many of the inhabitants of Halifax, Dartmouth, and the settlements, on this melancholy occasion, deserves honourable notice. Many left their homes for four successive days, to continue the search through the woods; and constant endeavours were made to soothe the sufferings of the parents.

NAPOLEON AND HIS PAGE.

WHEN Napoleon returned to his palace, immediately after his defeat at Waterloo, he continued many hours without taken any refreshment. One of the grooms of the chamber ventured to serve up some coffee in his cabinet,

an

by the hands of a child, whom Napoleon had occasionally distinguished by his notice. The Emperor sat motionless, with his hand spread over his eyes. The page stood patiently before him, gazing with infantine curiosity on image which presented so strong a contrast to his own figure of simplicity and peace; at last the little attendant presented his tray, exclaiming, in the familiarity of an age which knows so little distinctions, "Eat, sire,—it will do you good." The Emperor looked at him, and asked, "Do you not belong to Gonesse ?" (a village near Paris.)

"No, sire, I come from Pierrefite."

"Where your parents have a cottage and

some acres of land ?"

66 Yes, sire."

"There is true happiness," replied that extraordinary being, who, a short time before had compelled continental Europe to crouch at his feet!

THE THUNDERSTORM.

WHEN the dark and heavy cloud
Lifts on high its awful form,
And above us pealing loud,

Rolls the thunder of the storm,

Do not fear the lightning's flash-
God directs it where to fall;
Do not fear the thunder's crash,
For your Saviour rules it all.

Now rapid as a ray of light

He darts up yon tall beach;
He skips along from branch to branch,
And now the top can reach.

Now view him seated on the bough,

To crack his nuts at ease,

While blackbirds sing and stock-doves coo, Amid the neighbouring trees.

The light wind lifts his silky hair,
So long and loosely flowing;

His quick ear catches every sound

How brisk he looks, and knowing!

With cunning glance he casts around
His merry sparkling eye,

In yonder hazel, by the brook,
Rich clusters he can spy.

His lofty station soon he quits,
To seize the milky store;

You ne'er can catch him, dearest child,
The useless chase give o'er.

The butterfly you once surpris'd,
And had him in your power,
While he his painted wings display'd
Upon the passion flower.

As in the Foxglove's bell he div'd,
You caught the humble bee;
Examin'd well his velvet coat,
Then gave him liberty.

With lambkins you might run a race,
Though swift they hied away,
The nimble kid attempt to chase
Along the heathy brae;

But little squirrel's more alert
Than butterfly or bee;

No lamb or kid is half so light,
So swift of foot as he.