HE sea! the boundless, mighty, glistening sea! how unspeakably grand it is, how awe-inspiring!

Who can ever forget his first visit to the sea, when

standing alone by its restless waves, what inexplicable emotions filled his being? Then was the infinite greatness of the Creator brought home to the mind in all its magnitude and incomprehensibleness. Surely He Who controls the mighty ocean, Who measures its waters in the hollow of His hand, Who bids the storm-waves sink to rest, must be Almighty, must be what we in our finite comprehension shall never be able to understand.

Oh sea, changeless in nought but change, bid thy stormvoices tell us of our own puerility, our own insignificance and nothingness, when compared with Him who sets thee thy bounds which thou canst not pass!

With what kingly majesty do the foam-crowned billows rise, and with resistless, gigantic force, precipitate themselves upon the ripple-marked beach.

Ever-restless, ever-changing, ever-rolling waves of the mighty sea, ye do but follow Nature's universal law of

change. The billows of time, with noiseless movement, roll ever on to the shore of Eternity, and their progress, though silent, is none the less sure than thine own.

I must ever remember my first sight of the sea,—I stood by its waters alone, and in silence gazed until a feeling of indefinable awe and sadness stole over me. I felt myself to be at best but an atom in Jehovah's great world, and then the wonder arose that He, Who, as King of all kings, and Lord of all Lords, forever reigns, should deign to regard poor, powerless, fallen man.

How unspeakably grand the thought, yet how mysterious, how full of subtle power and sweetness!

But we are at Norstone now, and here is Master Pat, bidding adieu to Mrs. Spenser, before they take their departure for the sea-side.

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Good-bye, mother," says Jackie, throwing both arms round her neck, and kissing her, "good-bye, we'll write soon, perhaps a line to-morrow, to let you know of our arrival in Drayton."

"Good-bye," shouted both boys, when seated in the chaise, and waved their straw-hats as they drove off.

"Father, shall we catch the train ?" asked Jackie. "Yes, my boy, plenty of time. You must be careful, Jackie, while you are at Drayton, not to venture too far into the sea, and get drowned."

"I'll mind, father. Oh, here's the station; what fun! It was Tuesday, and one of the trip days to Drayton, consequently the platform was crowded by a mixed multitude. Having obtained their tickets, and seen their luggage safely transferred to the guard's van, the boys

began to look about them, for the train had yet twenty minutes to wait before starting.

"Sure, but there's variety enough here," said Pat. "Faith, Jack, look at that old lady."

Which said old lady, arrayed in a brilliant red and black plaid dress, was vainly endeavouring to carry a waterproof, satchel, shawl, umbrella, and sundry other articles, upon one arm, while, with the other hand, she wiped her heated face upon a green and yellow silk handkerchief.

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Sure, but I hope she won't be afther sitting against me," said Pat, "I'll faint, if she does."

"Well, suppose we get in," responded Jackie; "come along, old fellow, here's a proper carriage," and opening the door of a compartment near at hand, sprang in. Pat followed his example, and the pair seated themselves at the further end, that they might have undisturbed possession of the window.

"Faith, but it is jolly!" said Pat; "how good of your father to buy us these straw hats, they're ever so much better than college caps."

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Presently, a stentorian voice outside, shouted, Any more for Drayton?" and straightway the people on the platform crowded into the train.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Jackie, as the before-mentioned old lady showed her rubicund visage at their carriage door, and commenced to struggle in.

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Here, my lamb," she cried to Pat, "catch hold of my waterproof, and shawl, and here's my umbrella,-mind, there's a monkey on a stick inside of it, as I'm agoing to take to a little grandson."

Forcing these things into the hands of the astonished. boy, she continued, "Put 'em on the seat, and now take my bag, and this little box, and this bundle,-mind, there's a little bottle in the bag, in case I should feel faint, and want a drop of something to keep me up."

Poor Pat, how amazed he looked, and sorry, too, when he saw that his seat near the window was taken by a young lady, apparently about eighteen or twenty years of age.

Not satisfied with having secured his services, the old dame seated herself by his side, and straightway began to pester him with questions.

"How old are you, my pet?"

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Eleven," responded he.

"Where's your home?

"Norstone, at present."

"Oh. And have ye any brothers and sisters? ”

"One brother and two sisters," spoken good-naturedly enough.

Well, ye're a nice little fellow; and what's yer father?" "A coal merchant."

"Where does he live?

"At Cork."

"What, are ye Irish? I thought ye said ye lived at Norstone?'

"So I do."

"What do ye do there?

"I'm in the cathedral choir, if ye must know," replied he, impatiently, and turned round to Jackie, to whom he whispered, "Bother the old thing, she's a regular pest."

His words were unheard by his tormentor, but they caught the attention of the young lady opposite.

A sweet, kindly face was hers, a face that children would instinctively love and trust, not handsome, but honest and truthful in its expression. Leaning forward, she touched Pat's little hand, who turned somewhat petulantly toward her, dreading the advent of another persecutor, but the gentle face disarmed him at once, and he smiled.

"I believe you were here before I came," she said, “and would like to come again. You may if you choose, I will change places with you."

A moment before, the Irish boy had longed for such an opportunity, but now that it was offered him, he hesitated at accepting it.

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Come," she said, rising, and the boy complied, saying, Thank you very much."

"Oh, it is nothing," she returned; "I don't mind much as to where I sit," and quietly took Pat's vacated seat by Jackie's side. Presently, she entered into conversation with them, and thus the time passed pleasantly away.

At Dalestone station, the old woman got out, and insisted upon shaking hands with Pat before doing so, to his chagrin.

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Sure, but she's a queer old stick," he grumbled, when she had vanished. 66 She called me a lamb,-I think that

whatever I am, she is a silly old sheep."

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The young lady, whose name was Violet Lane, laughed, and said, Well, I will say that it was much too bad of her to tease you after that fashion; she was so inquisitive, too."