and in three-parts of an hour we were on board of our protector. I will not tell you how I tried to be thankful, more for the preservation of the innocent children than myself; nor will I tell you the efforts which were made by the boat's crew for hours after we were safe on board to endeavour to ascertain if fate had spared any others of our ill-fated ship. Out of more then sixty unhappy victims we alone were saved; nor were any of the dead found. The retiring tide had carried them away into the depths of the ocean, no more to be seen. A youth of the boat's crew told me he was sure he saw, as he was approaching the fatal spot, a female form clinging to the corpse of a man not looking like a sailor, but as no one else saw it, it was perhaps but a fancy.”

VII.

THE DISCOVERY.

THE old mariner here ended his story, and looked down upon the floor in the position of one whose feelings were jaded or exhausted. The farmer made a movement and an effort to rouse himself, and to speak; but his voice, although forced, was feeble and broken, and he made an effort or two before he could articulate clearly. At last he observed, in a tone and cadence very different from those employed commonly,

"I have seen from the first who these unhappy wretches were, and their offspring must be those you called your grandchildren. I see it-I see it already!" he observed, with great earnestness and emotion. "How shall I bear to look on that beautiful creature now sleeping quietly above, and whose sweet face I but just now made an effort to go up-stairs and look upon, but I could not? So like, too, how can I have been so blind? Has not my heart often told me, idiot that I am; that face, that voice, too, the same? Did I not feel this a year since? Why did I not ask you before? I knew it I knew it and yet I shut my eyes, and my heart, and my door-Oh, Heaven forgive me!-upon my own flesh and blood. Luke, Luke," he said, wringing his hands, and looking with the deepest concern and distress into the old man's face-“Luke, these are my children! That dear unhappy woman was my daughter. Oh, Alice! Alice!" he said. And here he burst into a flood of

tears.

Deeply affected, the old mariner took his friend's hand and said everything he could think of to console him, without much effect; for, in spite of all that stubborn philosophy and habit the world had done to harden a disposition not over-susceptible, nature would have its course, and it was a long time before the

farmer returned to a state in which he appeared at all like himself. When that began to show itself, he took the old mariner by the hand, shaking it most cordially, and said,

"Now, Luke, my resolution is taken, and there remains but a little more of our painful task to perform. Yes," he continued, as he saw the old sailor unwrapping a crumpled strip of paper he had taken from an old leather pocket-book, "I see you anticipate my wishes. Let me look at that." Taking the paper from the hand of the old sailor, he commenced reading: "Certificate of the marriage of Robert Shaw to Alice Lovell." Having finished, he handed it back to the old mariner, and sighing heavily, remarked, "This is enough, although it comes too late," and suddenly throwing himself across the foot of his bed, he wept bitterly, and they parted for the night.

A little before daybreak the old mariner was roused, who, on coming down-stairs, found the farmer, the housekeeper, and the young girl together in the little parlour. The farmer saluted him cheerfully, although he looked.wearied and ill, and pointing to the young girl, who was wrapped up carefully in a large shawl, and had other articles of dress and comfort about her, which did not immediately show themselves, he observed:

"Well, Luke, you see she is prepared for a journey. Are you ready to start? Everything is arranged, you and the child shall ride if you like. I will walk on for a mile or so, the morning air will do me good, and we will stop on the road and get some breakfast."

The old mariner appeared rather taken by surprise, but declared his readiness to go anywhere with the farmer, but

"Yes, yes," remarked the farmer, as he saw the old mariner wished to ask some questions, "I will explain all that and everything else during our journey, but, to tell you the truth, I am anxious to get away from this place, where I shall never show my face again; so, if you are ready, you are ready, we will start." Then shaking hands with the old housekeeper, he said, "Good-bye, Betty; remember what I have told you, and remember, as long as I live, you are provided for. Live here in quiet, and make yourself happy and content. And so good-bye, old woman."

As the party issued from the door, the dull grey light of the morning was just stealing in upon the fields, and the long lane, which was lined with rows of trees on each side, looked dreary and dark. A kind of market-cart was standing at the door, in which were a couple of trunks, attended by the youth who had to drive it. The young girl was asked to take her place in it, but as the old mariner preferred walking with the farmer, she also begged to go on foot. The farmer, therefore, again took leave of Nov.-VOL. CXLVII. NO. DXCIX.

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his old servant, who stood at the door with a handkerchief to her eyes, and would not shut it, although frequently asked to do so by her master. Buttoning his great-coat, and with a thick stick in his hand, he turned his back upon the cottage, and commenced his journey. The child took her place, as accustomed to do, half a step in advance of the old mariner, who, placing his hand upon her shoulder, followed at the usual pace. The horse and cart were at the same moment set in motion, and the party left the village-to see it no more.

All sorts of inquiries were made as to what had become of the farmer, the old mariner, and the young girl, and numerous vague surmises and reports were afloat. After many years only it became known that the farmer, having found his grandchild, oppressed by the recollection of his daughter's shame or misfortune -between which the liberal world cares little for making a distinction and disgusted also with the superstitious folly of the village-in short, tired of the scene of such painful recollections -had retired to a distant part of the country, seeking a solace for his last years in the society of his grandchild and the good old man who had snatched her from the jaws of death, and who had been her friend and protector through life, and to whom the farmer felt he owed a debt of gratitude he could never repay. Time brought about the fact that all three lived together in the most perfect friendship and concord for years, during which time many other parts of the eventful history of the old sailor's life were related, and the reason why he had visited old Deborah Shaw so many years before, but the particulars were never more than guessed at. The only fact which in process of years became certain and apparent was, that in the obnoxious and ever-dreaded corner of the new burying-ground, were to be found, by the side of its first young and beautiful occupant, three other graves, the one long and slender like the first, the other two of a different character. A neat railing surrounded the little area, in the midst of which a square stone was erected, with no names or date attached to it, and with no other inscription than the following: "TO THE UNITED IN DEATH."

A MODERN LOVE PASSAGE.

Would some part of my young years
Might but redeem the passage of your age.

SHAKSPEARE.

WHEN a reasonable man has been in Dieppe eight days, the best resolution he can come to, is to get out of it as quick as possible. As to prolonging his sojourn in that estimable bathingplace, it is out of the question. You might as well enter into an engagement as piebald horse in a circus. The Dieppese bathers walk round and round the "établissement" in diverse costumes at different periods of the day. But while it is fair to admit as a principle that an abundance of paletots contributes largely to a man's felicity, it would be going too far to assert that they insure his happiness.

A week more than satisfies to drain the cup of Dieppian pleasures to the dregs. The ruins of the Château d'Arques have been visited; one has lunched at the "parc aux huitres," dined at Lafosse's, spent a few hours at the Dutch whirligig, lost a few louis betting at écarté against venerable looking personages who turn up the king with a patriarchal simplicity; one has shuddered in the water, danced at the "établissement," and been shorn by a rapacious landlord, and nothing remains but to run away, and one does run away.

Unless, perchance, one remains a little longer, and if such a thing were to happen, it must be that Destiny has dressed herself up in the shape of a female to prolong your stay. Now this is just what happened to Louis Vendel, a thorough-bred Parisian, who, like many others, had been attracted by rumour and fashion to the seaside, but who, every day of the week that he had spent there, had wished himself back on his beloved boulevards. It was with a light heart and a light step, then, that, carrying his portmanteau in his hand, he started one fine morning to the railway station. But on his way he encountered the multitudinous vehicles of all descriptions, which, at Dieppe, convey the passengers from the station to their destinations in the town. Among these was the carriage drawn by two white horses, which touts for the Hotel Royal. Within that carriage was a lady, whom Louis Vendel had no sooner seen, than, forgetting the station and the boulevards at the terminus of the railway, he began to retrace his steps, illumined by a sudden inspiration of desperate import. It seemed to him, indeed, as if his whole future was concentrated in it.

Now such a proceeding was all the more remarkable on the part

of Louis Vendel, inasmuch as, although still young, handsome, well-to-do in the world, and having time on his hands, he was by no means one of those vain, empty-pated young fellows who fall in love, or pretend to fall in love, with every pretty face they meet. Vendel was endowed with that modesty which, seasoned with a slight mistrust in himself, is one of the constituents of a really intelligent nature, and he had had considerable experience of men, women, and things. Having lost his father and mother when still very young, he had been left to his own resources, and this had taught him to be cautious in his dealings with the world. He had not even yet been in love-not that he was incapable of love, or that he ignored the feeling, but he had got into the habit of looking upon it as a febrile complaint peculiar to early youth, and which must be gone through as assuredly as measles and hooping-cough; but as it would be ridiculous to have measles or hooping-cough at thirty, so he deemed that the time for passionate love was for ever gone by with him.

But, alas! what an abyss lies between theory and practice, and yet how easily is the abyss leaped over! Here, then, was Louis Vendel returning from the railway station, to which he had been bound with so elastic a step half an hour before, on the traces of a hostelry omnibus, with his portmanteau still in his hand, penetrating with the vehicle beneath the arched entrance, and forgetting to ask for a room, till that vehicle had deposited its fair burden at the hotel door. No sooner in his little bedroom, than the portmanteau was opened, and the captivated man began at once to take steps for dressing for dinner, and that with an anxiety in regard to his personal appearance which was utterly unusual with him. The fact is, that he had made up his mind that the lady, who had riveted his affections with such magnetic power, must, as a matter of course, dine at the table d'hôte, and there he would meet her, and chance favouring him, he would pick up a casual acquaintanceship. And as he went through the process of his toilet, he reviewed in his mind the personal peculiarities of the lady who had wrought distraction on his feelings and projects. She was not tall, nor yet was she little-she was just of the appropriate middle size. Was she twenty or twenty-one? Certainly not twenty-two, he said to himself. Was her hair fair or brown? Neither the one nor the other, yet between the two, and of a rich luxurious shade and growth. Her eyes of ultra marine blue had a luminously tender expression, shaded off by long silken eyelashes. Her cheeks shone with a brilliant white lustre, just touched with a roseate blush of youth, health, and vivacity; her movements were undulating and full of charm; her foot small and neatly arched; her hand thin and delicate, and perfectly gloved. Where had he had time to see all this? Where do lovers see and take in everything at a glance? And what they do not see, they