pass from darkness to light, from the stifling gloom of a back street to the glorious free breezes of the sea, without any notice or remark whatsoever. The body had but little life left the mind seemed quite dead.

Some little money had to be expended on a rude and scanty outfit for Shauneen (of course his outside clothes, or uniform, was found out of the yacht's stores), and when he went off on the trial cruise of the 'Lulu' for a fortnight to the Isle of Man and some of the Welsh seaside towns, there was very little money indeed left for Miles Hartigan to keep house with. He was very lonely, and now totally precluded from seeking for employment of any kind, because his mother had taken a strange fancy, that he could not find it in his heart to deny, of sitting at the little cottage door, gazing out on the dancing blue waves, all life-like and joyous as they were with the bright spring sun playing on them in a thousand opal tints of glistening beauty-but she would never sit there in peace unless when her only son's hand was enfolded in her poor feeble grasp.

And now Captain Fred has to tell you, with sorrow and mental pain that he cannot control, of a sad scene. The sorrow is present to him now as he writes these lines, and he cannot bear to rip the old wound up again; nor is it good for you that these things should be unfolded and laid bare to

your inspection; therefore you will pardon, for his sake as well as for yours, if he passes it over very lightly and speedily, and tells you in a few brief words that while Shauneen was away on that first cruise, the unfortunate Celeste Hartigan became rapidly worse, and the doctor who was called in pronounced at once that her case was hopeless. But she was in an actually dying state for only two hours, during which time she completely regained her entire consciousness, speaking words of recollection, of counsel, of peace, of unutterable love to her distracted boy; and finally passed away with the setting sun, leaving with her dying breath a faint but earnest and distinct blessing to that noble youth who, in sorrow and pain and suffering, had never for one second thought of self, but had devoted all, all-even his actual want of food and rest-to solace the last melancholy months of her life on earth. Nothing but a blessing! but such a rich blessing! a blessing that told of hope, of love, of an eternity of happiness to come-a mother's dying blessing. May each one of you deserve such, and obtain such an inheritance, as did the son of Celeste Hartigan.

When Shauneen Gow came back he found his boy, as he delighted to call him, overwhelmed with sharp piercing grief, that could find no consolation in anything, and it took all the pure love and noble devotion of that rough, un

couth sailor before Miles Hartigan woke to a sense of duty still before him-duty to himself, and therefore duty to his God, and shook off the terrible oppression of sorrow that was weighing him down.

But he did shake off the physical grief that enervates and depresses; the spiritual grief lived far down in his heart, a holy sentiment that no lapse of years could ever wholly destroy. Then the lad rose up from his sorrows and șore trials with a certain manliness that comes after trouble. well endured; he had little difficulty in finding a berth as first-class boy on board the 'Lulu,' and there for the present we must leave him.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CRUISE OF THE 'LULU,' AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

A BRILLIANT sun playing down on the laughing waters of Kingstown Harbour as they came tumbling in-bright blue, with foam-broken crests of snowy white-from the outside bay, all alive with craft of all sorts and sizes; fleecy masses of clouds hanging in mid-air overhead, like piled up woolpacks picked and toyed into shape-or no shape rather— by Titan workmen; a brisk breeze passing under

the woolpacks without stirring them, as it blows down crisp, sharp, and health-giving, from the purple slopes of the Wicklow and Dublin mountains; sea birds whirling round and round in the lively air-now soaring aloft and screaming out the shrill discordant cries appertaining to their tribes then darting round and round in circles, as they seem to gambol or quarrel in an utterly inconsequent manner; anon making rapid dives or tumbles rather, from giddy heights, till the breast just touches the water and seems to throw them up into mid-air again, sometimes with a small silvery fish in their mouths, sometimes with empty and disappointed beak; stolid merchant ships bobbing and courtesying as they swing at their anchors in stately style, like the great City matrons at a Lord Mayor's ball; heavy armoured and weaponed men-of-war, too ponderous and solemn to rise to the rolling-in waves that dash uselessly against their stern bows; large channel steamers, sharp as knives at the bows, to divide the raging seas on stormy nights, such as are known only in the narrow land-locked gap that lies between Ireland and Wales; fishing boats with coloured sails, and immense trawl nets hung in the rigging (with many a stout lashing and preventer-brace) to dry ere next trip to the deep-sea fisheries; beautiful swan-like yachts (models of all shapes and sizes, that no land can boast save Great Britain alone)

flitting to and fro-here in the harbour, or far out in the bay or calmly rising and falling, as with folded sails they wait the order of the lazy owner to hoist sail and be off; and ever and anon, great fleecy puffs of smoke, like long drawn-out bits of the finest jeweller's cotton, and dull heavy booms of the guns the artillerymen are practising with at the Pigeon House Fort; whilst over against the harbour, and many miles away, lies in severe grandeur the famous Hill of Howth, purple with the sun playing on the heather, dotted with snowwhite villas, and dull grey at its base and projecting lighthouse end, where the granite sub-stratum is plainly visible to the naked eye;—all these things were seen by Miles Hartigan and Shauneen Gow, as they lounged listlessly on that glowing morning over the bulwarks of the 'Lulu,' and longed to be out at sea, tossing in the fresh briny breeze, with the good yacht lying over when she felt herself free of the shackling land.

The skipper is walking the deck with a ship's telescope tucked knowingly under his left arm, and forming a support for his right hand; he is clothed, as to his upper man, in the finest blue navy cloth, with gilt buttons and the club crest; a natty cap on his head; blue waistcoat, also with the golden buttons; snowy duck trousers, tight up above, but falling loose and free, man-o'-war fashion, from the knee down to the foot, where they