a.

"`They'll be over!' shrieked my sister; `oh, let us try and save them!'

"My mother sank senseless on the ground. For a moment my sister seemed
as if she would do the same. Then she and I rushed together towards the
cliff at the top of our speed. We could just see the two poor miserable
drunkards staggering about for a little while, but then a sinking in the
ground, as we hurried on, hid them from our sight. A few minutes more
and we were on the slope at the top, but where were _they_? They were
gone--where? I dared not let my sister go forward, but I could hardly
hold her, till at last she sank down in a swoon. And then I made my way
to the top of the cliff, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins as I
looked over. There they were on the rocks below, some hundred and fifty
feet down. I shouted for help; some of the neighbours had seen us
running, and now came to my relief. I left a kind woman with my unhappy
sister, and hurried with some fishermen the nearest way to the beach.
It was sickening work climbing to the place on to which my miserable
father and his companion had pitched in their fall. Alas! they were
both dead when we reached them, and frightfully mangled. I can hardly
bear to go on," and the captain's voice faltered, "and yet I must
complete my story. We made a sort of large hammock, wrapped them in it,
and by the help of some poles carried them up to our cottage. It was
terrible work. My sister did not shed a tear for days, indeed I
scarcely ever saw her shed a tear at all; but she pined away, and a few
short months closed her sad life."

The captain paused, and it was long before any one broke the silence.
At last Hubert asked,--

"And your mother?"

"Ah, my mother--well, she did not die. She mourned over her daughter;
but I can't say that she seemed to feel my father's loss so much, and I
think I can tell you why," he added, looking very earnestly at the two
young men. "Mark this, young gentlemen, and you Jacob, too--there's
this curse about the drink, when it's got its footing in a home it eats
out all warm affections. I don't think my mother had much love left for
my father in her heart when he died. His drunkenness had nearly stamped
out the last spark."

"It's a sad story indeed," said Frank, thoughtfully.

"Ay; and only one among many such sad stories," said the captain.

"And so you were led after this to become a total abstainer?"

"Yes; it was on the day of my s