rocks; no trees grow on them, a few weeds only give signs of vegetation; no animals inhabit them, and even the birds of the air forsake them.

Such an one was Eanthe; but dreary as the prospect of living there would have seemed to others, I dreaded it not, while the treasure most prized was left me. For myself I cared not; I could endure any privations, but I trembled for my child. I was fully convinced that the strength of her religious principles would enable her to endure every hardship without a murmur, that her mind would not fail her under any trial, but I feared her bodily strength. The few weeks that she had been condemned to inhabit a prison had made a visible alteration in her appearance, in which there was a delicacy which strongly reminded me of my dear mother; and I shuddered as the idea of her sinking prematurely crossed me.

CHAPTER XI.

I WILL not attempt to describe our feelings upon leaving our beloved Athens; beloved, because it had been the birth-place of us both; our happy home. We did not give utterance to our thoughts or griefs, but with hands clasped in each other, we stood upon deck, watching the coast which receded from our sight much too quickly. In silence we lost sight of it; and in silence we landed upon our new and dreary land.

I had not formed a wrong idea of my child's strength of mind, and fortitude in adversity. Many were exiled with us, but Hermione was active among them, speaking consolation to the aged, and stimulating the younger by her words and example to activity and resignation. The comfort of each individual seemed

to be the object of her care, and as far as lay in her power she contributed to it. All blessed her, and all followed her advice and example; and in a short time our little colony was settled, if not happily, contentedly; and we were brethren in love as well as in adversity. We set apart a small building as a chapel, and I was chosen as the pastor of our little community. My child had managed to secrete my mother's Bible, now the only one within our reach, and it became a carefully guarded treasure, the common property of all.

But notwithstanding the activity of Hermione, I could detect a latent melancholy preying upon her constitution. Often would she sit silently and pensively; her voice was now never raised except in hymns to her Creator; and I found that that part of the shore which lay opposite to Ithaca was her most favorite walk, and never would she go elsewhere, when I left her to guide the way for our evening ramble.

Still she expressed no regret, no sign ever escaped her till within a short time of her

death; when I not unfrequently observed her eyes fixed upon me, and suffused with tears, which she would quickly repress when she discovered I noticed her. I daily saw her declining, I saw her form wasting, and her strength failing. Others saw it too, and in their kindness offered me condolence and consolation. Alas! from them I could not derive lasting comfort. I saw my only earthly treasure gliding from my possession, yet I wept not. I could not weep, my grief was too deep for tears. She was the only tie which bound me to life, and made that life endurable; and that tie was to be loosened. From my birth, it appeared that I had been doomed to unhappiness; that amidst every apparent blessing, misfortune secretly haunted me. I had lost family and fortune, and now was to lose the only being who loved me, or whom I loved; that dear child, who from her infancy I had doated upon, even in contradiction to my principles; and now, when religion hallowed and blessed my affection, now when I felt that in loving her, I was fulfilling a law of nature and of God; she was

to be taken from me. I wept not, nor did I murmur. I did not pray for the life of my child, for I knew that the Almighty, who had a knowledge of all my thoughts and wishes, would, if he saw good, grant them without my asking; he willed that she should be taken from me, and I submitted; but my almost hourly prayer was for her an easy death free from suffering, and for myself fortitude to bear the separation as becomes a Christian.

My sweet child was but a short time confined to her room. I daily read to her, and she constantly exhorted me to be resigned. She spoke of her near dissolution without fear or trembling; she said our separation would be for a little time merely, and she was abundantly thankful that she had been the means of leading me to the same faith and religion which she had believed in.

She sunk.

Hers was the first grave dug

in the little spot of ground which we had marked out for the burial place of the persecuted, and she was followed to that grave by the sighs and tears of those among whom