you will not be afraid to sail, I shall take you all out; we'll make a regular day of it. The Honeybuns are good sort of people-very good sort of people; and Miss Montayne and I will sing duets, and we'll be as merry as grigs. Keep my promise in your memory: do you hear, Cave? I should like to give the folks a treat-'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' and I don't like dull boys. No, no; give me bright, sparkling, happy beings. I never was sad an hourexcept when 'Rina was ill; but she is well now, and I'm not going to be sad any more. Ha ha ha!"

"What's dull?" asked 'Rina. "Is dull being naughty ?" "Cave, I shall have to provide this little lady with a 'Walker's Dictionary,' for every third word I utter she wants to know its meaning."

"You should not ask too many questions, my darling," said Julius.

'But, papa, I want to know so bad," urged 'Rina.

"That's 'Rina's general complaint," observed Joyful Jessy, laughing boisterously. "She cannot find a shell on the beach-not a single shell-but she will ask me fifty questions regarding it. Con-found the jade! she has made me feel how ignorant I am. I thought that I was pretty well in-formed on most points; but she has convinced me to the contrary, and I find that I really have forgotten much of the stuff I learned at school. Law bless you! I couldn't tell you anything about the stars, those luminous bodies that appear in the nocturnal firmament !—that's not bad, Cave, is it? There's something grand and imposing in the sound of luminous bodies and nocturnal firmament-ha! ha! The moon might be made of cream-cheese for aught I could prove to the contrary."

"What is the time, Mr. Jessamy?" asked Emma.

Come

"Dear, dear!" exclaimed he, looking at his watch; "how I've been chattering! why it's near eleven o'clock. along, 'Rina! Good morning, Cave; good morning, mammaEmma!"

"Good morning-good morning."

And Joyful Jessy and 'Rina are gone.

Emma goes to the window, and watches them hasten down the narrow street--yes, she watches till the broad man and the hat with the blue ribbons have quite faded in the distance.

Emma put on her bonnet, and Clotilda brought hers, which the mother silently tied on, and then kissed the brow of the quiet child, whom nobody thought it worth while to notice.

Ding dong! ding dong! went the bell.

"We shall be late," observed Emma.

"Where are you going?" asked Julius, putting down his newspaper.

"To church. I told you yesterday that I wished to attend the morning service, if possible."

66

Humph! And my dinner?"

"I will return home time enough for that."

"When did this religious fit seize you?" asked he sneeringly.

"I seldom have an opportunity of visiting a place of worship," said Emma meekly. "In my poor father's lifetime"

There, you'd better be off, or else we shall have a shower."

Poor, aching, lacerated heart, there is no rest for thee! Go and pray! HE will solace thee.

Emma hurried along, almost glad to escape from her home. "How harsh he still is!" thought she. "I wonder whether he is jealous of Mr. Jessamy's love for 'Rina. I should not regret being Julius's wife if his manner were a little-just a little-kinder towards me. A few months hence there will be another mouth to feed. Had it not been for Mr. Jessamy; Heaven knows what would have become of our children. Oh! if Alice and Mr. Ridly could but see them, I should be forgiven, I am sure. Julius is already talking of teaching 'Rina to dance; and he is ever speculating on her beauty, her probable talent, and of one day bringing her out at the grand opera in London."

Emma entered the church, and the current of her thoughts instantly changed. The swelling tones of the organ woke up her best feelings and softest emotions. Her tears flowed, and she reproached herself for not being more humble and obedient. In her prayers she mingled the name of their benefactor, and she wished that he had not gone out in the boat on the Sabbath.

H

66

"Lovely day, sir," said the boatman, as he touched his hat to Joyful Jessy. I'll lift the little lady in." Has a basket been brought?"

"Thank you.

"All right, sir. Step in, please sir; the tide is ebbin' fast."

'Why, there's hardly a breath of wind stirring, boatman." "Wait till we're from under this cliff, sir, and you'll find that there's a pretty stiffish breeze."

"Not too much, I hope, boatman. Remember the child." "All right, sir," replied the man, as he hoisted the sail, For some minutes the little vessel glided gracefully through the smooth water; then she scarcely appeared to move, so gentle was the air.

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"It's comin', sir! said the man.

"What's coming?" asked Joyful Jessy, glancing at the receding shore.

"The wind, sir. There she goes!" exclaimed the man; "there's not a boat in Scarborough can lick the Susan." "But she's very small," observed Joyful Jessy.

"Size arn't got nothin' to do with her sailin' qualifications."

"Yours is a hard life," remarked Joyful Jessy, after a glance, "roughing it through all sorts of weathers." ""Taint nothin' when you're used to it."

"Well, 'Rina, how do you like the sail?"

Oh, I should like to be in one of those big ships yonder." from me?"

"What! you would go away "No; I should like papa, mamma, Clo', and you to go with me."

"And where should you like to sail to if we were in a big ship?"

"To Robinson Crusoe's Island."

"Bless me! what an adventurous spirit."

66

Please, I want to know"

More, a great deal more, than I can tell you!" rejoined Joyful Jessy, laughing.

"Ain't she a-goin' it, sir?" said the boatman, as the little vessel, impelled by the rising breeze, cut through the foaming waters, and ever and anon dipped and curtsied, and the rose high again, splashing the silvery spray around her.

"Trim, sir!" said the boatman.

"Do what?"

"Sit a little more to wind'ard."

"Precisely," said Joyful Jessy, shifting his position. "Oh, my hat! my hat! Mr. Jessy," cried 'Rina suddenly. Joyful Jessy rose instantly to catch at the ribbon of the hat as the wind bore it past him, and in so doing lost his balance, rolled overboard, and disappeared.

The boat, relieved of a heavy weight, bowed, gunwale down, to the wind, and shot through the foaming water like an arrow. The man instantly put the helm down, the little vessel hove to, for a few seconds the sail flapped idly, a couple of strokes with an oar brought her head round, the canvas filled again, And she shot back to the spot where Jessy had disappeared. All this was quickly done so quickly that the foam bubbles she had left in her wake had hardly vanished as she tacked back to the scene of the accident.

The half frantic child was hanging over the side of the boat and calling upon Mista Jessy.

"Sit still, miss!" said the man, as he stood up gazing round, but Jessy had disappeared. With one hand on the rudder, the fisherman kept his boat in the eye of the wind, while with the other he grasped a rope.

"Good lor'! I

"I sees nothin'!" he muttered, uneasily, hope he'll not be drownded-sit still, miss Ah, there he is, sure enough!" he exclaimed, as Jessy's head rose for a minute above the water-his struggles had carried him some distance from the boat. " 'Keep up, sir! keep up, sir !" cried the man, flinging the rope towards him-the cast was a bad one, for his right hand was on the tiller. "I could save him if I could jump overboard, but with this breeze, and no one at the helm, the boat would go out to sea quicker than I could swim-if she didn't capsize." Jessy struggled towards the rope but his strength was gone-he threw his hands up wildly and sank.

"Missed the rope! sunk again! that's the third time-no hope of him now-he's gone sure enough we shan't see him again!"

After several minutes of breathless watching, the boatman threw himself down in the stern of the craft, with a blank look of despair.

The accident had been so sudden and startling, that he could not realize the event: it seemed to him like a terrible dream. Had there been a storm, a capsize, or a collision, the drowning of two or three men would have been regarded by him as a natural occurrence. But in smooth water, within half a mile of another sail, and without any capsize, to lose a life, was frightful to contemplate. Half an hour was vainly spent in tacking to and fro over the spot where Jessy had last risen and disappeared. At length, when all hope was extinct, the boatman silently turned the little vessel's head and in a short time ran her ashore at the foot of the pier.

CHAPTER X.

'Now, where do you live?" asked the boatman, as he lifted the child out of the little vessel.

"I don't know," sobbed 'Rina, in bewilderment.

"He warn't your father?" said he, jerking his head towards the water.

"Oh, Mista Jessy, Mista Jessy!" cried the child, in a wild tone.

"He warn't your father?" repeated he abruptly.

"No."

"Then what's the use of cryin'?" said the rough man. "I can't help it."

lost.

Dang the hat! it war all through the hat as he war
Where do you live?"

"In a house," replied she innocently.

"I know'd that much!" said he, impatiently.

"In a street," added she, between heavy sobs. "Lor' a mercy! Does anybody know you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Honeybun."

"The parson's wife?"

"I don't know," replied 'Rina, crying bitterly.

"Come along! I'll take you to church," said the boatman,