just been met, and plundered of every convenience he had provided for his accommodation during his long and dangerous journey, by a horde of the untaught savages who dwell in these deserts, and was left in the most forlorn situation imaginable, which he describes in such an affecting manner, I shall quote his own words.

"Whichever way I turned," says he, "I saw myself in the midst of a vast wilderness, in the depth of the rainy season; naked and alone, surrounded by savage animals, and by men still more savage. I was five hundred miles from any European settlement. All these circumstances crowded at once on my recollection; and I confess that my spirits began to fail me. I considered my fate as certain, and that I had no alternative but to lie down and perish." In such deplorable circumstances there seemed indeed but little room for hope; but the traveller adds, "The influence of religion, however, aided and supported me. I reflected, that no human prudence or foresight could possibly have averted my present sufferings. I was a stranger in a strange land; yet I was still under the protecting eye of that Providence, who has condescended to call himself the stranger's friend.

"At this moment, painful as my reflections were, the extraordinary beauty of a small moss in fructification, irresistibly caught my attention. I mention this, to show from what trifling circumstances the mind will sometimes derive consolation; for though the whole plant was not longer than the top of one of my fingers,

I could not contemplate the delicate conformation of its roots, leaves, and capsula, without admiration.

"Can that Being, thought I, who planted, watered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image? Surely not! Reflections like these would not allow me to despair. I started up, and disregarding both hunger and fatigue, travelled forwards, assured that relief was at hand, and I was not disappointed."

Had this man had no faith in the providence of God, it is most probable that he would have fallen a victim to despair. Had he not had the habit of admiring the objects of creation, it is hardly likely he would have seen the moss, which suggested those ideas that gave him fortitude to use the means of overcoming his difficulties.

From this striking instance of deliverance we may learn, that there is no situation so deplorable as to exclude hope or reasonable exertions, which, under the divine blessing, may change the gloomiest prospects into sunshine.

SINGULAR VICISSITUDES OF FORTUNĖ.

THE interest of novels and romances turns upon extraordinary and unexpected events. The heroes of the -piece are frequently raised to the height of prosperity,

or sunk into the depth of adversity. Yet there are few vicissitudes introduced into the works of fiction, that are not to be found in the circumstances of real life; for the trials of individuals are often as affecting, and far more instructive, than the many improbable adventures invented merely to amuse, and which mostly mislead by giving false views, and a false estimate, of the enjoyments and privations of our present existence. In order to convince my young readers that they may reap as much entertainment from anecdotes of real personages, as from those of imagination, I shall mention a few that I have selected for the purpose.

Can any imaginary love tale excite more sympathy and compassion, than the misfortunes of the innocent Arabella Stuart, daughter of the earl of Lenox, who was younger brother to lord Darnley, father to James the First? Her near relationship to the crown excited the jealousy of both Elizabeth and James, and construed her attachment to sir William Seymour, afterwards marquis of Hertford, into a crime.

A suspicion having arisen that the object of a conspiracy, for which sir Walter Raleigh suffered, was to place this young lady on the throne, caused her to be confined to her own house; but their mutual affection outstripped the vigilance of her guards, and they contrived to be privately married. The discovery of the wedding was disastrous to both. He was committed to the Tower, and she to close custody, under the guardianship of sir Thomas Parry at Lambeth, but was afterwards removed to Mr. Conier's house near Highgate.

Whilst in this family, her engaging manners and submission to the authority of her keeper, so won his confidence, as to give her an opportunity of concerting a plan with her husband to escape both on the same day, June 3, 1611. The first part of their projects was successful; but it terminated most unfortunately, as is related in Winwood's Memorials, which I shall give in his words, making no alteration, but modernising the spelling. Having disguised herself, by drawing a pair of great French-fashioned hose over her petticoats, putting on a man's doublet, a man-like perruque, with long locks, over her hair, a black hat, black cloak, russet boots with red tops, and a rapier by her side, she walked forth, between three and four of the clock, with Mr. Markham. After they had gone on foot a mile and a half to a sorry inn, where Crompton attended with their horses, she grew very sick and faint, so that the hostler that held the stirrup said, that gentleman would hardly hold out to London. Yet being set on a good horse, astride, in an unwonted fashion, the stirring of the horse brought blood into her face, and so she rid on towards Blackwall; where, arriving about six o'clock, finding there in readiness two men, a gentlewoman, and a chambermaid, with one boat full of Mr. Seymour's and her trunks, and another boat for their persons, they hasted from thence towards Woolwich. Being come so far, they bade the watermen row on to Gravesend. There the watermen were desirous to land, but for a double freight were contented to go on to Lee; yet, being almost tired by the way, they were fain to lie still

at Tilbury, whilst the oars went on land to refresh themselves. Then they proceeded to Lee, and by that time the day appeared, and they discovered a ship at anchor a mile beyond them, which was the French bark that waited for them. Here the lady would have lain at anchor, expecting Mr. Seymour; but through the importunity of her followers, they forthwith hoisted sail to seawards.

In the meanwhile, Mr. Seymour, with a perruque and beard of black hair, and in a tawney cloth suit, walked alone, without suspicion, from his lodging, out at the great west door of the Tower, following a cart that had brought him billets. From thence he walked along by the Tower wharf, by the warders of the south gate, and so to the iron gate, where Rodney was ready with oars to receive him. When they came to Lee, and found that the French ship was gone, the billows rising very high, they hired a fisherman for twenty shillings, to set them aboard a certain ship that they saw under sail. The ship they found not to be it they looked for, so they made forwards to the next under sail, which was a ship of Newcastle. This with much ado they hired for forty pounds, to carry them to Calais; but whether the collier did perform his bargain or no, is not as yet known.

On Tuesday in the afternoon, my lord treasurer being advertised that the lady Arabella had made an escape, sent forthwith to the lieutenant of the tower to set strait guard over Mr. Seymour; which he, after his yare manner, would thoroughly do, that he would: but com