The meal was finished, everything was cleared away, the two maids were bid come and form part of the conclave, we were all equal now, and every one was to have a voice in this council.

Madame began by saying that she thought I was unnaturally hasty in concluding that we were really left on this island for life. "So many things, dear Madam, may have occurred to prevent their coming, of which we know nothing. Besides, Captain MacNab knew that we had provisions for six months, and he might not like to trust the vessel to the hurricanes that often precede the rainy season."

Mother.—"That is very true, Madame, but I don't think the Captain would willingly put us to such anxiety; besides, he knows that we have no shelter to screen us from the violent effects of the rain."

Madame.—"But I think, Madam, we should not so immediately conclude that he is not coming at all, and that we are inevitably left alone here."

Mother.—"I do not conclude so inevitably, but it is better to come to some decision than to spend our time as we have done the last six weeks. Had we not spent our days in hoping instead of doing we should not be in such an uncomfortable situation as we are now. Two children have certainly got symptoms of ague, and you have a wretched cold and cough, half our worldly possessions are more or less damaged by the rain, and should it return, where are we to look for shelter, what can we do to preserve the goods left us?"

Madame.—"I have no doubt that the storm of the other night was only the precursor of the rainy season, which lasts from fifteen to twenty-five days in the climate to which I have been accustomed."

Mother.—"Then there is the more necessity for our exerting ourselves. Tell me, Schillie, what do you think?"

Schillie.—"I think nothing. If we are to be drowned, it's the same to me whether it is by rain or sea."

Mother.—"Nay, you are unkind. It is at moments like these when clear heads and quick wits are most invaluable. You surely don't intend to burden me with the sole arrangement of this painful and arduous undertaking."

Schillie.—"I don't see what you have got to bother yourself about. You would build a hut spite of all I could say, and the first shower drove it down on your ears."

Several voices exclaimed, "Oh, cousin Schillie, a shower! did you call that dreadful storm a shower!" while Madame lifted up her hands and eyes, and said, "it was a fearful deluge."

Schillie.—"Yes, yes, I dare say it was rather heavy; but it is nothing to what we shall have."

"Heaven forbid," again exclaimed Madame, while the little ones seemed equally aghast at the idea.

Mother.—"I grant that building more huts is out of the question, and, besides, we have not time, I suppose, but we must do something to save what we have left of our property. Come, girls, what can you suggest?"

Sybil.—"I can only think of covering everything with those great big plantain leaves."

Serena.—"And we can put stones on them to keep them down; and by putting a great many layers, I don't think it is possible the rain can get through."

Mother.—"And you, Gatty."

"Oh," said Gatty, getting very red, and twisting her pocket handkerchief into a series of knots, "I don't know much about such things, but," seeing she must speak out, "perhaps stowing them away under a big tree would do."

ZoË.—"I think the same as Gatty, Mother, for it must be impossible for the heaviest rain to get through some of the thick trees out there."

Winny.—"I am not certain which plan I think best; but I will wait and hear what Mother thinks before I quite decide."

Lilly.—"I think digging a deep hole, and burying them in the sand would be the best."

Oscar.—"Just as if the rain would not go through the sand. You always think of such out-of-the-way things, Lilly."

Mother.—"But I do not think hers's such a bad idea, I think it a very good one for such a little girl; but what do you think best yourself?"

Oscar.—"I think we had much better put them all safe in the cavern in which we sleep, especially the powder and shot, because if that gets wet it is done for, and we can dry ourselves by a fire, and yet not be hurt."

Madame.—"Oh, my dear boy, you do not know how dangerous it is to get wet in this climate, and as for sleeping out all night, you would not be alive for one week."

Oscar.—"But it is of very great consequence, Madame, that we should preserve the guns, and powder, and shot. Supposing your friends, the savages, should come, how are we to kill them if I have no powder and shot, I should like to know."

Felix warmly supported Oscar, merely saying, "If Mama's plan is a better one, I will choose that, but I suppose you won't mind, Oscar!" Oscar set him at rest on this subject.

Hargrave vehemently protested against the powder and shot being placed any where near, what she considered her property, namely all our clothes, trinkets, bonnets, and caps, and bitterly bewailed the mischief the storm had done amongst various silk dresses, and pretty smart caps. Nearly all the young ladies' bonnets were more or less hurt, and not finding her wits capable of discussing any other subject, we released her from the obligation placed on every one else, namely to give their opinion on what we should do.

Jenny sided with her dear Miss Lilly, partly because she had been snubbed by Oscar, and partly because she had a great opinion of her sense and quickness.

Having gone the round of the family, nothing remained but to sum up the whole, and make the most of it. That most was so little, we were soon all in high discussion again. Madame and Oscar being the principal talkers, and carrying on their dispute to some length, she declaring the cavern must not be given up, he vociferating that the powder and shot must be saved. They at length arrived at a pitch, so as to extract an observation from Schillie, which was one reason why I had allowed the boy to argue so much.

Schillie.—"Madame, it is too hot to get into such a stew. Do you imagine there is only one cavern in the island?"

Oscar.—"And so I wanted to tell Madame, but she would not hear me out. I did not want your old cavern, Madame, I only wanted to put all the things safe in some cavern."

Schillie.—"I think, instead of making all this noise, we had better go and search for some more caverns."

Madame.—"But it is Sunday."

Schillie.—"Necessity has no law, Madame, besides the heavens are at work, see!"

As she spoke, the lightning played before us, and the heavy thunder broke over our heads. We crouched beneath the rock, but the cloud passed away, the sun came out again, brilliantly lighting up the rain-drops which fell sharply and heavily for ten minutes.

"Now then," said Schillie, "we will all go and search for caverns. You had better lie down, as you look done up. We will be absent an hour, or you may sound the conch-shell to bring us home in time for evening church. And, Hargrave, have something ready to drink when we return. I shall be dying of thirst, I know."

Every one followed her, Madame and Hargrave only making short searchings near at hand. In the meantime, I lay down and looked at all the texts the young ones had brought to me, as was their custom before the Sunday dinner, and which on this day they had chosen for themselves. How profoundly was I affected at the selection they had made, and the simple trustful observations accompanying each, while the wish to comfort pervaded them all, mixed with hopeful anticipations that all would end well, and earnest protestations that they would be very good, and I had only to speak to be obeyed. But I think their own papers will better show the comfort and consolation they gave me than all I can say on the subject, and I will therefore give them verbatim:—

SYBIL'S SERMON.

Psalm 107, verses 4, 5, 6.—"They went astray in the wilderness out of the way, and found no city to dwell in. Their soul fainted within them. So they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distress."

How good is our great Father in giving such consolation to us. We cannot believe He will forsake us, when in almost every page of His Holy Book we find promises of help and deliverance to those who trust in Him; and how happy should we feel in believing that the greater our sorrow and desolation the nearer we are to Him who afflicts those whom he loveth. Let us think also what comfort he has left us still—that we are not solitary in this lonely island—that our Mothers and dear companions are with us; and let us show our gratitude for such mercies left us by becoming more obedient, loving, and dutiful to those whose sorrow for our forlorn state is so deep. May we be a comfort to our Mother, and always think that in this small island, as in the great world, our thoughts and actions are known, our prayers are listened to by One who has promised never to leave or forsake us. How happy it is to think that on this Holy day numbers of our fellow creatures are in our own dear country praying "for all those in danger, necessity, and tribulation," and whose voices in earnest prayer meet ours, and join with those of the choir of angels above. We may hope that He who supports and sends us comfort in our despair may console our sorrowing ones at home, and give them hopes, as He does us, of meeting them again in this world. For our Saviour, Jesus Christ's sake, whose loving words "It is I, be not afraid," follow us and comfort us far from home. We will ask him to look down and guard our little island, which He brought from the depths of the sea, to be our refuge from storms and winds. To Him whose care is over us we commit ourselves, and those near and dear to us, and we will believe "that those who cry unto the Lord in their trouble He delivereth them from their distress."

SERENA'S SERMON.

"Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord hearkened."—Malachi iii. 16.

We beseech Thee, O Lord, to hear us, for we fear Thee and love Thee. We are separated from those we love; we cannot speak to them, or they to us; we have little prospect before us of ever seeing them again; but we have the gracious Lord to speak to, and we have His gracious promise that He will hear us. Through our Father in Heaven we can hold intercourse with our Father on earth. We pray for him, and we know God heareth the prayer that goeth not out of feigned lips. He prays for us, and God heareth him, as we see daily, hourly, in the lovely place allotted to us, in the fruits that rise before us, in the flowers that spring up to our hands, in the love we bear each other, and, oh, more than all, in the privilege that we may speak to each other of the Lord's mercies and loving kindnesses, and know that he heareth us, for Jesus Christ's sake. Then let us remember, should despondency overwhelm us, or sorrow cast her gloomy mantle upon us, that this land is not our "abiding place," that here we have no "continuing city," but that beyond the tomb we have an house prepared, not made with hands, where we shall not only meet those from whom we have been torn in this life, but such things "as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."

GERTRUDE'S SERMON.

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint."—Isaiah xl. 31.

It is a very happy thing for us that the great God has mercifully promised in such numerous places in the Bible health and strength in our hour of need, for, indeed, we require it now more than ever I remember before; for, though we have everything we could want in this wretched little island, we seem doomed to pass our days here, never more to see everything we loved at home. But there is a heaven above, where there is to be no sorrow, where "tears shall be wiped away from every eye," and to this we must raise our hearts, trusting that God will renew our strength and make us strong to fulfil our duties until the time comes for us to meet them. We must pray to Him that we be not weary or faint in doing the work He has set before us, that we may be worthy of going to that place where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

ZOË'S SERMON.

"Oh! what great troubles and adversities hast Thou showed me, and yet didst Thou turn and refresh me."—Psalm lxxi. 8.

Ever since we left our happy home we have been troubled and tossed about. Many adversities have fallen upon us that we never thought could have happened. But God has willed it so, and for wise purposes. Perhaps He thought us too happy; perhaps it was necessary to do us good that we should be thus afflicted. Let us then not grieve, but look into our hearts to see our faults, and then we shall have so much to do that time will pass quickly, and we shall have peace and comfort in our minds beyond all other pleasure, the peace that our Heavenly Father gives to those who strive to please Him. This will make our little island like a paradise, preparing us for the happy and beautiful paradise where we shall meet all those we love so much.

WINNY'S SERMON.

"But God shall deliver the island of the innocent."—Job xxii. 30.

I think this is an island in which we now live, and I think that we who are in it are innocent people; therefore God will love us, and take care of us, for He tells us so in His Holy Book. Look at my text, and study it; there is a great promise, and nobody in the world, I am sure, wants such a promise so much as we poor lonely people do. Let us then be very innocent and good, and then we shall be certain that God means that holy promise, which I have written down as my text for us, and just as much as if He spoke it to us. And, though we are all alone here, we have our Bibles to teach us to be innocent people, and that's what no savages or heathen people have, and, therefore, we should rejoice and be glad, and sing a song of thankfulness. And now I think I have explained my text, and have only to say that we must often pray to our Heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, because without His help we cannot be innocent people.

LILLY'S SERMON.

"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people."

When we look into the Holy Book of God, at every page we read something that does us good; that is, if our hearts are rightly turned towards God, so that we wish to do His will and not our own. Lo I opened my Bible at this place, and found my text, and think it very proper for us, for we do comfort each other, and God comforts us, and we have nothing to wish for, and nothing to want, except to see our homes once more. And, if God wills that we should return home, how happy and grateful shall we be, and if He does not, we have much to do here, especially in comforting each other, and, if we work cheerfully, without sorrow and grief, great shall be our reward in heaven.

END OF THE SERMONS.