"It's the ground swell," said the guide; "there's few Newfoundland dogs strong enough to stand against it."

At this moment a large wave carried Neptune and his burthen fairly on shore; and though its recoil swept them back again, the effect which a full sight of them produced upon the guide was electric. "It's a man!" he shouted. 66 Help, help!" and instantly several persons started from recesses in the cliffs, and ran upon the beach. Agnes saw that one was an old woman, who seemed in an agony of despair; and then she saw something black dashed against the rocks, and she heard a crash, and a shrill and piercing scream-and then she hid her face in her mother's gown, for she could bear no more. Mrs. Merton bent over her and both remained silent for a few minutes. When they looked up, all was bustle on the beach. Lights were flashing to and fro, and numerous voices were heard. The idea suddenly struck Mrs. Merton that her husband would be alarmed and might come to seek them, and endanger his life by the descent. "Oh! let us go," she cried.

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Stay a moment," said Agnes, softly laying her hand upon her mother's s arm. "Let them pass first."

Mrs. Merton shrank back, and let four men pass bearing the body of the young fisherman He was apparently quite dead, his long black hair hung back from his pallid face, which was distinctly seen by the torches carried by some of the men, and his aged mother walked beside him, hiding her face in her apron. The young Londoner still lay on the beach, with his faithful dog panting by his side; for it seemed that the people had gone to seek for him some more suitable mode of conveyance; but he was not alone, for several persons crowded round him; and among them Mrs. Merton was glad to perceive their guide. She beckoned him to approach, and under his guidance they began to retrace their steps. The way was long, and in some places the ascent was frightfully steep. It had become quite dark, and the flame of the torch carried by their guide quivered so tremulously in the sudden gusts of wind that howled round them, that they feared every moment it would be extinguished. The rain now began to fall—slightly at first, but gradually in thick small drops, that chilled them to the heart, and made the soft clay over which they had to climb, so slippery, that they could scarcely keep their feet.

At last they reached the bridge; and they had no sooner done so, than they saw distinctly the figure of Mr. Merton on the cliff above, surrounded by a number of men carrying torches; and he was waving a handkerchief to them to encourage their exertions. Soon two men descended; one bore a torch; and the other, as soon as he reached the ascending party, took Agnes in his arms, and Mrs. Merton had soon the happiness of seeing her darling child safe by her father's side. Mrs. Merton now felt new strength, and in a short time she reached the summit of the cliff herself. The men who were assembled round Mr. Merton waited a moment to see she was safe, and then hurried down the rocks to bring up the body of the young Londoner-the rapidity of their descent being marked by their torches, which appeared to slide down the different cliffs. The Mertons did not stay to witness the result of their labours, but hastened to the inn; and when Mrs. Merton and Agnes offered up their evening prayers, they did not forget to add a fervent thanksgiving for the mercy that had saved them from a dreadful catastrophe similar to that they had beheld.

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CHAPTER VI.

Management in Household affairs. - Undercliffe.— Alexandri an pillar.-Light-house of St. Catherine.-Little Church of St. Lawrence.-Churchyard.-St. Lawrence's Well.-Ventnor.— Wishing Well, and Godshill.-Beautiful Butterflies.—Pulpit Stone.-St. Boniface.-Arrival at Shanklin.

THE night at Black Gang Chine was dreadful; the rain came down in torrents; and the wind rushed by in such furious gusts that the slight fancy building they were in shook to its foundation. The Mertons had a double-bedded room but none of them slept much; and once, when the house absolutely rocked, from the violence of the wind, Mrs. Merton rose, and throwing a dressing-gown round her, she knelt by the side of Agnes's little bed, and took the poor child's cold and trembling hand in her own, till Agnes, soothed and comforted by the pressure of her mother's hand, at last fell asleep.

Mrs. Merton, herself, however, could not sleep, and she lay counting the tedious hours till the break of day, when she arose weary and unrefreshed.

Mrs.

The morning was extremely beautiful; and even the dark and gloomy hills of the Chine looked less fearful in the bright rays of the early sun. Merton dressed herself, and was just going down. stairs, when Agnes woke and begged her to wait a moment. Mrs. Merton consented, and the little girl having dressed herself as quickly and as noiselessly as she could, they went down to the room in which they had sat the night before; one of the windows was open, but Agnes had no longer any pleasure in running out under the veranda; and she shuddered at the sight of the rocks, though the sea, which curled gently round them, at a depth of above five hundred feet below the situation of the inn, was now as smooth as glass. She could not even pat the black dog she had been so fond of the day before, and she sat on the sofa with her back to the window, while Mrs. Merton rang the bell to ask the waiter what had become of the sufferers of the night before. The account was unfavourable. The young fisherman was dead; and the Londoner, though