and there's a dark line a-stern." "Stow the royals and mizzen-top gall'n's'l," shouted the chief officer in command.

The order was quickly obeyed. The clouds began to blow up, and black enough they looked; a stiff breeze also sprang up, and we could see the squall was on us. "All hands shorten sail !" was the next order. Meanwhile the squall increased to a gale, and the captain, coming on deck at that moment and seeing the state of affairs, shouted:

"Take in the tops'ls, and mind your helm there!"

These and some other commands executed, we tore before the raging tempest, under main lower tops'l and reefed fores'l. Ay, the Victory she did tear along, whilst the waves, which were like mountains, swept over her deck, and the water boiled like under her bows, and came rushing through her lee scuppers. The gale lasted until about one o'clock in the morning, when it 'bated almost as suddenly as it had risen.

"How's her head ?" asked Mr. Jones, of the man at the helm.

"Sou'-sou'-west, sir."

"Let her go off just a point," he said; and then added, "Aloft there, and loose the tops'ls and t'gall's'ls !"

The sea had begun to go down a bit, and the passengers, who had been in the saloon, finding the ship rolled less, retired to their berths. The stars shone clearly, and the watch, having been relieved, had gone below. It seemed such a blessing to get our clothes off, for they were wringing wet.

We hadn't been asleep more than half an hour, when there came a kind of startled cry, "Fire! fire!" How we hurried out of our bunks and ran on deck, and then, sure enough, we could smell the fire!

The captain ordered search to be made in the hold, to discover, if possible, where the mischief was; but there was nothing to be seen, only a sort of sulphurous smell could be detected.

So we went below again, and slept till eight bells. A watch had been kept meanwhile, but no more occurred to awaken suspicion.

Another careful examination was afterward made, but it proved unavailing as to finding anything. Then the day broke.

Oh, how well I remember it, the glorious first of June, and glorious it was! The sun shone brightly, and there was a nice breeze, just enough to make it pleasant. There was a soothing sound, too, in the wash of the waves against the sides of the ship. Most of the sails had been set, and the Victory looked a perfect picture.

"Tis strange, but I always remember one thing: I was gazing at the sky, and there was one little white cloud floating along in the middle of the blue, when a young 'prentice said to me, "James, that must be the sweet little cherub as sits up aloft, to keep watch o'er the life of poor Jack." Maybe 'twas.

Toward evening the decks began to get very warm, and one of the men made a remark to Mr. Jones, who immediately reported it to the captain.

Holes were cut in the deck over the place where the fire was supposed to be, and plenty of water poured down; and the carpenter and some men were ordered to make a careful examination below. I was sent aloft to take in the main royal, and was just about to descend when the carpenter came up, and going to Captain Stanhope, said something which I did not hear; but I was told to have a look if any ships were in sight, but I could see no sign o' one. There seemed a great rush on deck.

and looking down, I saw, to my horror, a dense smoke coming through the hatchways. In vain were the decks deluged with water, and the hatches battened down. The smoke came thicker and faster, and at last, with a roar, flames burst through the hatches.

"Lower the boats-'tis our only chance now!" cried the captain.

I can tell you, sir, they were lowered quick enough, for the heat was getting dreadful. I got into the long boat, with the steward and first officer and some of my mates.

We all got safely away, and after rowing some distance laid to and watched for the end. By this time the sun was sinking, a great red ball, and there was our ship, sails and all, enveloped in a sheet of flame.

We couldn't help noticing that, as the sun sank in the west, the Victory seemed attracted or drawn towards it. Her bow was directed west, and she looked grand.

The captain sat in the boat that lay next ours, and after watching some time, covered his face with his hands, as though unable to bear any more.

Just as the sun was sinking behind the horizon I saw the second officer touch him on the shoulder. He looked up, only in time to see his good ship disappear beneath the waters.

There was a moment's silence, and then we rowed away toward the west, too. We were too sad to talk much. To think we had escaped the fury of the gale to see our vessel burnt! Well, well, "Man proposes, God disposes."

As I said, we rowed away, and after a while the moon rose, and the stars shone with a brilliancy you never see in this country-almost cruel they seemed to us.

The boats kept together the most of the night; but about three o'clock in the morning the wind began to blow in gusts, and before an hour was over we were pitched and tossed on an angry sea, and in the darkness the boats got separated. No one knows what we suffered that night, for we had naught to eat, nor, what was worse, to drink.

When the day broke we first missed our companions. In vain we gazed round. Nothing met our sight but a wild sea and a wilder sky. Fortunately, toward noon the wind fell, the sea began to go down, and it rained. This was a blessing, for by holding our caps we had some water to drink. Till then I never knew what it was to suffer from real thirst.

About six o'clock in the evening we saw a sail. We waved our arms frantically, but whether they saw our signals, or whether they were coming that way, we didn't know. One thing was certain-the frigate (for such she was) bore down on us. It wasn't long before we were aboard, and then we learned that the Spitfire was homeward bound. The captain and crew treated us with great kindness, but they could tell us nothing about the other boats. They hadn't seen them.

After an uneventful voyage we reached England safely, and went at once and reported to the owners the circumstances under which the Victory was lost.

It was nigh eight months after our return that we learned the fate of the rest of the crew. They had had a fearful hard time of it, and had lost seven of their number. The captain was the first to go.

It appeared

Ah! we were sorry to hear of his death. he scarcely noticed anything; and once when Mr. Jones asked him which way they had better try for, he said: "West-she was drifting west; yes, she was drifting west."

SONNET.

BY MORGAN EVANS.

WE wandered in the morn of life, as flew

Wing-footed hours quick by in sunny haze, And talked of all our past and future ways. Oh, how we loved that time when love was new, And how it lasted, ever fresh and true,

Throughout the day! For when the noontide blaze Throbbed with fierce heat, we sheltered in a maze Of amorous bowers, while love still stronger grew. We never dreamed of parting. We were bound As one together-vow was given for vow, Love begat love, until we grew profound

In wedded mysteries.-Alas! but now

Dark night has fallen. Alone I tread the ground.
I go, I know not whither, care not how!

A LITTLE COWARD.

BY AGNES JAMES.

THAT was what Miss Merivale had called her that morning when she trembled and turned pale because the black mare Stella reared with her. She begged Sir Robert to take her off, and stood in ignominious safety while Agatha Merivale mounted Stella and rode off triumphantly down the avenue.

She was a coward. She did not deny it, and was sometimes very much ashamed of it. But no one had seemed to mind it, or to scorn her for it, till Agatha Merivale came, with her bold, dark eyes and her dashing ways, her riding and hunting and shooting; and everybody admired Agatha so much, even, Sir Robert!

She almost hated Agatha ! You see, until Agatha came they had been so happy at De Rosset. Little orphan Madelaine Leigh had never been so happy in her life as here at the Hall with sweet Lady de Rosset, who was her guardian, and her son, Sir Robert. They were so kind and good to her. They petted her, and loved her so. And now Agatha had come, and for two weeks had monopolized Sir Robert, and kept the house in a turmoil of gayety, and laughed at Lina, and made her life wretched. | Lina's maid reported that everybody said Sir Robert was to marry Miss Merivale. Lina made a stern resolve that she would run away from the Hall when that event took place. Run away! She would run away now! Not far though-she was too much of a coward to venture far into the world alone; but she would go away across the fields to "Aunt Margaret," as she called Lady de Rosset's widowed sister-in-law, who lived in a quiet, comfortable house a mile away from the Hall.

Mrs. Harrington was an invalid, paralyzed and confined to her bed. She was rather a grim old lady, and most people were inclined to shun her; but sweet, bright little Lina had won her way into the old lady's heart, and was always welcomed at the Lodge.

Yes, she would run away to Aunt Margaret's, and, perhaps, when she was missed, Sir Robert might feel a moment's uneasiness about her. Seizing her hat and a light shawl, she flew off across the park, calling Leo, Sir Robert's pretty colley, to go with her. Lina did not like to cross the fields alone, being possessed by a great terror of bulls; but with Leo she would not mind it so much.

Leo was calmly taking a nap on the front portico, but he started up and raced after her with a joyous bark. But, at the little gate that led from the park into the fields, Lina was greatly disconcerted by an unexpected encounter with Sir Robert and Miss Merivale, who came laughing and talking along the path, both looking bright and handsome in the golden rays of the setting sun.

She brushed past them with a hasty "Good-evening," but Sir Robert turned back to speak to her. "Where are you going, Lina ?" he asked. "To Aunt Margaret's," she answered, not looking at him.

"Alone, Lina? Are you not afraid? If you will wait a little while, I will go with you," Sir Robert said, looking down kindly at the girl's flushed cheeks and averted eyes.

No, thanks," Lina answered, hastily. "I will not trouble you. Leo will take care of me. And you would be late for dinner if you went with me.”

"May I come for you, then, after dinner ?" Sir Robert asked.

66

Thanks, I am not coming back. I shall stay all night,” was the hurried answer, and Lina turned to go. But Sir Robert detained her for a moment. "Lina," he said, in a low tone, "what makes you avoid me so lately? What have I done to offend you ?” Lina raised her blue eyes hastily to his one moment, and then dropped then again.

"I have not avoided you," she said, coldly. "You have been very much occupied with-other people. There, I will not detain you."

She waved her little hand haughtily, and walked away from him. He watched the pretty, white-robed figure for a moment, and then Leo came and fawned on him. "Leo, Leo," called Lina's voice.

"Go, Leo," said his master, and the obedient dog trotted off down the path after the girl.

It was rather dreary at the "Lodge" that evening. Mrs. Harrington was out of humor, because her agent had failed to call that day to receive a thousand pounds that she wished him to deposit for her. And Parkins, her nurse and nursemaid, had let the maid-servants all go off to a fair in the village, "where they will certainly get into mischief," Mrs. Harrington said.

But when Lina had talked to her and made her laugh a little, she forgot her grievances, and chatted away very pleasantly. At ten o'clock she declared she had laughed till she was tired, and Lina must give her her drops and let her go to sleep.

"There! the spoon is gone. Where can Parkins have put it? Child, would you mind running down into the pantry and bringing me a spoon? I would ring for Parkins, but she told me she wanted to get up some muslins this evening, and would come up as soon as she had finished."

Lina did not altogether like to pass down the long stairs and silent entries leading to the pantry, but she went, and Leo trotted after her. As she stood in the pantry, looking round for the spoons, with no light but a faint gleam from a hall-lamp, a sound of low voices caught her ear.

The pantry was on the ground-floor, its iron-barred shuttered window looking into the garden. The sound was outside the window, and Lina paused to listen. The first words that caught her ear startled her.

66

"A thousand pounds and all the old woman's jewelry and plate !" said a man's voice, in a husky undertone. "Yes," was the reply, in a woman's voice-the voice, Lina knew, of Parkins, Mrs. Harrison's model, soft-voiced, lady-like nurse-" and there won't be any trouble about it, because I have let the women go away to stay all night, and sent the gardener on a fool's errand to Misses's brother's, twenty miles off."

"But this girl that came to-night-what about her ?" asked the man.

"Oh, she will go to her room, presently, and stay there if she is wise. She'd be no hindrance any way—a

silly, timid little thing. But it's as well to let her get out of the way," said Parkins, coolly.

"But see here, Molly, why not do it now? Then we'll have more time to get away before daylight," said the

man."

46

"I tell you it's not safe before eleven o'clock," Parkins said, positively. "People may come in. Whenever this girl is here they do come. Sir Robert don't like her out of his sight for long, and that idiotic young Marsden may come mooning in. Wait till half-past eleven, and the west door here will open. And, Jim, look here. When you get this swag, you are to take me with you-your wife, mind."

The voices grew fainter. Evidently the speakers were moving away from the house. But Lina had heard enough. Sick with terror, she leaned against the pantry wall for a moment and tried to think. What did it all mean? Robbery, murder! And no help near. Her first instinct was to fly out of the house and across the fields to the Hall. But her absence would be instantly discovered, she knew, and then poor Aunt Margaret would be alone with those wretches. No, she must not go. But to stand here idle would do no good. She flew like a bird along the halls and up-stairs, Leo racing by her side. At Aunt Margaret's door she paused, and a sudden thought came to her. She would send Leo home for help.

"Where is the spoon, child? How long you staid. Good heavens ! what is the matter ?" cried the old lady, as she saw the girl's white, terrified face.

Lina began some evasive answer, but instantly remembered that Aunt Margaret must be told the whole story or nothing could be done to save her. She did tell it, and Aunt Margaret listened in silent consternation, and then burst out impetuously with :

Then she went in and helped Parkins bar the door, and they went together up-stairs.

Aunt Margaret lay, very quietly, on her pillows, but with her black eyes gleaming.

"Miss

"Parkins," she said, steadily, as they entered, Leigh is kind enough to offer to stay with me here tonight. She will sleep on your couch, and you, my poor soul, can go and get a good night's rest in another room." Parkins was silent for one instant, and then began a series of smooth, polite expostulations, which no one would heed, and finally the civil nurse prepared the couch for Lina and took herself off, observing, sweetly: "If Miss Leigh will leave the door ajar I can hear a call from this room, and will come instantly."

"Thanks, Parkins, but I hope I shall not have to call you," said Lina, speaking as sweetly as Parkins herself. Then, as she glided to the door as soon as it was closed, she turned with a face of dismay, and whispered: "The key is gone! She took it when she was fidgeting in and out with sheets and pillows."

"There is a bolt besides," Aunt Margaret answered. Lina gave a sigh of relief as she slipped the bolt into the groove, and felt that she had some little protection against the enemy.

"Now child," Aunt Margaret said, "can you use a pistol ?”

"I never touched one in my life," said the “little coward." "But if I had one now I would try."

"Very well. Take my safe-key-it is under my pillow --and unlock the safe. There are two pistols there, loaded. They are just as my husband left them a year ago, but Robert looked at them a few days ago, and said they were all right. That is it. Put one of them on the foot of the bed, and if those wretches come, try, my dear, to use it. Now put the other here, by my left hand. Thank God!

"Because I knew Parkins would be up here in a few minutes, and find I was gone, and then-"

"Ah, well. So you staid to save the old woman if you could? What are you doing, child? Why don't you lock the door and pile things against it! Good God! if I was just able to rise out of this bed!"

But Lina did not speak for a moment. She had found a pencil and paper and was rapidly writing a few words. When she had finished

'Now," she said, "when Parkins comes tell her I am to sleep on the couch here in your room, and she must go somewhere else. I will be back in a moment.. Leo !"

Out of the room she darted, and down to the hall door, which she unbarred and passed through. Then, kneeling in the shadow of a pillar on the portico, she tied the note tightly in her handkerchief and knotted the handkerchief round Leo's neck.

yes; pile up all you can against the door. There, you can't move anything else. Now, come here, little girl; kneel down by me, and let's say our prayers together."

With the old lady's thin, pallid hand clasped tight in her two cold, trembling little ones, Lina knelt down there, and burying her face in the pillow, tried to pray.

Her petition was not a very coherent one; it was only a wild, passionate cry for pity and help, and meantime she was listening, with every nerve strained, for sounds from the outside.

A lamp burned in the room. On the mantelpiece a softly-ticking clock marked the slow minutes. No other sound broke the stillness.

Presently a sob shook the girl's figure. She was thinking of Sir Robert and his tender care of her.

Oh, if she had only not been so wayward and proud this evening, all would have been well! He would have come for her, and they would have been safe.

"Is that you, miss ?" said a smooth voice from the hall. "Why, whatever are you doing in the dark there?" Lina sprang up as if she had been shot.

"I am sending the dog home," she said, speaking quietly, though the throbs of her heart shook her whole frame. "He is restless here without his master. home, Leo-straight home, sir!"

Go

The dog, with one farewell lick of her hand, bounded down the steps and vanished in the dewy darkness of the Summer night.

Too late! Lina shuddered and sobbed again as she thought what that might mean. Oh, it was hard to think of dying so helplessly, so horribly, with help so near!"

The long minutes crept on, and no sound came until eleven o'clock had passed. The little clock softly chimed the half-hour. Then, in a few moments came the sound of stealing footsteps in the passage, and the knob of the

Breathless silence in the room! Then a gentle tap at