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years that had passed since his accident, I had been left still tied to the tester of his bed, and I still served to help him to drag up his feeble limbs, and to turn in bed, for he was very feeble, poor fellow.

But I was destined to play an important part once more, and for the last time in the family history. When Robin was about twelve years old, there came a very severe winter, which was sorely felt all through the little fishing village, and by none more heavily than the poor fisherman's family. The fishing turned out badly, and the previous potato crop having been a scanty one, they barely found enough to live upon. Poor Robin had been more than usually delicate and ailing during that winter, and suffered more than the rest from all the privations. The spring drew on drearily enough, cold, dull, and cheerless, so that there scarcely seemed a glimpse of hope of better days. One day when John was almost out of heart and hope, he set off on a long ramble, hoping by diligent climbing and search to find at any rate a few rare birds' nests in the crevices of the cliffs. Everything had gone worse even than usual, there had

been no fish caught worth mentioning for many days, and John's poor old patched and mended nets were rapidly falling to pieces in spite of all his care, while he was not able to buy enough bread for the little household, not to mention material for new nets. So he climbed wearily on, and rounded rock after rock, meeting with but little success, till at last he had reached a long distance from home, and had climbed a good way up one of the tallest cliffs in the neighbourhood. He was rewarded by finding a couple of rare nests full of eggs, and with renewed hope he climbed eagerly on. He saw one just a little above him, but in a very awkward place to get at, for there was a cleft in the rock he must leap over to get at it. He had a steady head and a light foot, and took the leap without hesitation, when, to his horror, as he alighted on the other side a piece of the mouldering stone broke off, and fell rolling down with a loud noise, crumbling to pieces as it bounded down the sharp rocky face of the cliff. There was now too wide a space between for him to risk the return, and there he stood on a narrow ledge of rock, with the sharp peaks

and the roaring sea beneath him, and a steep wall of cliff stretching up above his head. John Pike was a brave man, and had been used to face many a danger, but the blood seemed to leave his heart, and his breath almost stopped, as he understood the full peril of his position. It was indeed a serious one, and as he thought over the scant chance there was of any help or rescue, he covered his face with his hands and groaned in agony for those at home, more than for himself. And while he stood there, despairing of all human aid, many a prayer went up from his heart's core to God for help for the sake of his wife and poor Robin. And then he set to work with all his best energy to make his terrible position known. He had fortunately a handkerchief in his pocket, and this he tied to the walking-stick he always took with him on his climbing expeditions. He shouted at frequent intervals in the hope of making some one hear, and at last, to his great joy, he espied a little figure below on the distant beach! It was a poor shrimper, with her nets on her back, returning home, and she saw at a glance how the case stood, and hastened at once to the

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