turned out to be a great blessin' after all, although it seemed such a
misfortune. For it caused me to arrive just in the nick of time to save
two human lives--besides givin' the old girl here somethin' to think
about and work upon for the next twelvemonth to come--whereas, if I had
arrived the day before, I would have bin sleepin' in the house, and
mayhap have bin burnt alive wi' old Nibsworth and his daughter. Seems
to me as if that little story had some sort o' bearin' on the subject
you was discussin' wi' Molly. But I'm not good at drawin' morals, so
I'll leave you to draw it for yourself."

CHAPTER THREE.

OUR COASTGUARDSMAN MEETS WITH A SERIOUS BUT VERY COMMON FALL.

Whether Jeff Benson drew the moral of Captain Millet's story for himself
or not, we cannot tell; but it is certain that his mates found him after
that date a man who was prone to solitary meditations, with occasional
fits of absence of mind. They also found him a pleasant companion and a
most active comrade in all the duties of his station.

Sometimes these duties involved great hardship, and frequent risk to
life and limb; for, as is well known, our coastguardsmen not only
perambulate our shores in all weathers, but often work the rocket
apparatus for saving life from shipwreck, and are frequently called upon
to assist the lifeboat-men by putting off to the rescue in their own
boats when others are not available. In all these duties Jeffrey Benson
did his work with tremendous energy, as might have been expected of one
so strong, and with reckless disregard to personal safety, which was
appropriate in a hero.

One evening, about a year after the period of which we have been
writing, Jeff was returning along shore with a party in charge of the
rocket-cart, after having rescued the crew of a small coasting vessel--
four men and a boy, with the skipper's wife. The service had been
prolonged and pretty severe, but feelings of exhaustion were, for the
time at least, banished from the coastguardsmen's breasts by the joy
resulting from success in their heroic work. On the way, the party had
to pass close to Miss Millet's cottage--her "cottage by the sea," as the
romantic old lady was fond of calling it.

Jeff--although fatigued and hungry, besides being drenched, dishevelled
about the hair, bespattered with mud, and bruised, as well as lacerated
somewhat about the hands--determined to pay a short visit to the
cottage, being anxious to "have