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At an early hour in the morning a few of the citizens of the town of G might have been seen hastening towards the depot. A run of twenty minutes brings the dashing train to a bridge, sixty feet below which, as in a channel cut through the rock, runs the now swollen waters of Lee's Creek. The recent freshet had undermined one of the principal piers. There is a fearful crash, and, as the coaches fall through the awful space, one is heard to exclaim, "My God, where are we going?" Whether these words were uttered by lips devout or profane will probably never be known. A moment longer and the wreck is in flames, and so dreadful is the burning, that of the twelve or fifteen persons fatally involved, the charred remains of but few could be identified even by their friends. My God, where are we going? Reader, where are we going? We are going! Another incident in connection with this same railway disaster — for these are facts, as the writer has occasion to believe. Amid the wreck, some coin was spilled upon the floor of the broken ear. As the fire progressed, one poor sordid soul was seen gathering the pieces of gold in his hand. Whether he escaped, or whether be was overtaken by the flames and perished grasping his treasure in his fist, we know not.

(The United Presbyterian.)

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KJV: And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully:

WEB: He spoke a parable to them, saying, "The ground of a certain rich man brought forth abundantly.