A DEAF AND DUMB BOY'S DEVOTION.

nder the trees standing by the left bank of the Thames, and sheltered from its waters by a mound of earth, is an old but comfortable boathouse. A few roughly-hewn steps lead from the mound to the water's edge, where some six or seven boats rock idly on the surface. Over the door of this tottering mansion hangs a wooden board, with the words "Timothy Gainsad" inscribed in large letters upon a black ground. A gush of light and warmth issuing from the door guides the weary traveller to a haven worthy of his choicest desires. Well can I remember the dark outline of St. Paul's Cathedral, lifting its rounded dome in massive grandeur to the skies, and the faint outline of the opposite bank shining dimly in the distance. I remember, when a lad of seven, a rich and influential lady coming down from Yorkshire to spend the winter months in London. She brought with her a dumb boy attendant, whom she had adopted and treated with the greatest kindness. One dark night she hired a boat, and rowed out upon the river. Scarcely was she lost in the river mist ere the flood gates of heaven were opened, the rain came down in torrents, the waves dashed against our rude pier and threatened to dislodge it, while now and then an occasional streak of lightning, accompanied by a clap of thunder, lit up the dark surface of the river. My friends had gone off in a boat in search of the lady, and I was alone in the room. Seated on a stool by the side of a blazing fire, I was reading an interesting novel, when the door was violently pushed, and the dumb attendant of the young lady rushed in, seized a life belt from the wall, and made for the door. I ran to intercept him; but guessing my purpose, he raised the stool and brought it down with a crash upon my head. I staggered back to the wall and fell, and he disappeared through the door. With a reeling head I tottered to the door, and looked out upon the river. "Great heavens!" I exclaimed, "he will be dashed to pieces!" For there, revealed by a flash of lightning, was the dumb boy, standing on the rail of the bridge, preparing to plunge into the surging waters below. A short distance from the bridge was the boat occupied by the terrified lady. It was fast sinking, and as he plunged from the bridge it sank. I saw him come to the surface, stunned and bleeding; I saw him raise the life-belt in his hand, and throw it to his mistress. She caught it, and his face lit up with joy; then—he sank! His mistress was saved, and some time after the dumb boy's lifeless body was washed to the shore, and laid in an honourable grave. Over it stands a beautiful angel of white marble, holding a scroll inscribed with these words:—"Here lies Gustavus Arisild, who died in the surging waters of the Thames to save his mistress."