all generations. Before the
mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and
the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God."

We hear sometimes in these days that the Bible is no more inspired of
God than many other books of historic and poetic merit. It is a fact,
however, that the Bible answers a strange and wholly exceptional purpose
by thousands of firesides on all shores of the earth; and, till some
other book can be found to do the same thing, it will not be surprising
if a belief of its Divine origin be one of the ineffaceable ideas of the
popular mind. It will be a long while before a translation from Homer or
a chapter in the Koran, or any of the beauties of Shakespeare, will be
read in a stormy night on Orr's Island with the same sense of a Divine
presence as the Psalms of David, or the prayer of Moses, the man of God.

Boom! boom! "What's that?" said Zephaniah, starting, as they rose up
from prayer. "Hark! again, that's a gun,--there's a ship in distress."

"Poor souls," said Miss Ruey; "it's an awful night!"

The captain began to put on his sea-coat.

"You ain't a-goin' out?" said his wife.

"I must go out along the beach a spell, and see if I can hear any more
of that ship."

"Mercy on us; the wind'll blow you over!" said Aunt Ruey.

"I rayther think I've stood wind before in my day," said Zephaniah, a
grim smile stealing over his weather-beaten cheeks. In fact, the man
felt a sort of secret relationship to the storm, as if it were in some
manner a family connection--a wild, roystering cousin, who drew him out
by a rough attraction of comradeship.

"Well, at any rate," said Mrs. Pennel, producing a large tin lantern
perforated with many holes, in which she placed a tallow candle, "take
this with you, and don't stay out long."

The kitchen door opened, and the first gust of wind took off the old
man's hat and nearly blew him prostrate. He came back and shut the
door. "I ought to have known better," he said, knotting his
pocket-handkerchief over his head, after which he waited for a momentary
lull, and went out into the storm.

Miss Ruey looked through the window-pane, and saw the light go twinkling
far down into the gloom, and ever and anon came the mournful boom of
distant guns.

"Certainly there is a ship in trouble somewhere," she said.

"He never can be easy when he hears these guns," said Mrs. Pennel; "but
what can he do, or anybody, in such a storm,