eeze
went unheeded, until, grown quite angry, in a gust of fury it struck the
boat--and what happened next no one knows, for none were left to tell the
tale,--except the breeze, and he went scuffling off to another point.

This only is known, that where the barge had floated nothing was to be
seen but a desolate expanse of water, but for years and years afterwards,
when the wind was in the right direction, the fishermen heard sounds of
laughter and talking coming up from the bottom of the sea, the rattle of
plates and the jingle of glasses, and through it all the strains of sweet
music, and deep voices singing. If the moon was in the right quarter and
the water very still, far down beneath the waves could be seen the
gleaming silver table, and the wicked old Lord of Pengerswick and his
guests still seated round it keeping up their revels.

The feasting must all have ceased by this time, though, for no sound is
ever heard now, and it is long since anyone has caught sight of the
pleasure-loving crew. A part of the treasure has been cast up by the sea,
and seized by the descendants of the poor people the old lord robbed, and
it seems quite possible that if they only wait long enough, and the tide
goes out far enough, someone will be so fortunate as to find the silver
table.

CRUEL COPPINGER, THE DANE.

One of the most terrific storms ever known was raging on the north coast
of Cornwall. The gale, blowing up channel from the southwest, broke with
such fury on that bold, unsheltered piece of coast by Morwenstow, that the
wreckers, who were gathered on the shore and heights above, had more than
enough to do to keep their feet. The rain came down in driving sheets,
shutting off the sea from their eager eyes, so that they could see nothing
of the prey they were watching for.

Beaten down, drenched, well-nigh frozen, even these hardy men were on the
point of giving way before the fury of the hurricane, when suddenly from
out the sheets of driving rain loomed a vessel, a foreigner. If she had
been a phantom ship, as at first they thought she must be, she could not
have appeared more strangely, suddenly, or unexpectedly. But it was no
phantom battling so bravely, yet so hopelessly with the fierce waves,
ploughing her way through them, defying their efforts to draw her down and
devour her. She rolled and lurched heavily, and was driven closer and
closer on to the jagged rocks of that cruel coast; her sails were in