I had only kissed him!" Clarissa did not know that she was saying
the words aloud. To her, indeed, this cup was doubly bitter, for it was
mingled with the gall of remorse. But for that hard nature of hers, she
might have had the sweetness of a kind parting to think upon. Had he
forgiven her, in his loving heart, while the great ship was going down,
and the water was taking away his life? Ah, she might never know that,
until the cruel sea gave up its dead.

There was a noise of wheels in the street; but what were noises to her?
The sound drew nearer; the wheels stopped at the door, but it could be
only some friend, who had come in haste to tell them the bad news which
they knew already.

Battered, and bruised, and dripping with water, a man descended from the
hackney coach, and Clarissa started up.

The face was so pale, the whole aspect so strange, that she could not
receive the great truth all at once. It was not until he entered the
room, and knelt down, wet and trembling as he was, at his father's feet,
that she realized her brother's safety.

Anthony had been on the upper deck when the ship sank, and was among
that small number who escaped death. All those who were between decks
shared the fate of the great Admiral who went down with his sword in its
sheath, and ended his threescore years and ten of hard service, in sight
of shore. The many were taken, the few left; but although hundreds of
homes were made desolate that day, there were some from whence the
strain of thanksgiving ascended, tempered by the national woe.

People were wont to say afterwards that Clarissa never again looked so
young and fair as she did before the blow fell. But if that day's agony
robbed her of her bloom, it left with her the "meek and quiet spirit"
which never comes to some of us until it is gained through a great
sorrow.

DORA.

_AN OSTLER'S STORY._

BY ALFRED H. MILES.

Tell you a story, Master 'Arry? Ah! there's only one story as ought to
be told in this yer stable, and that's the old un as allus hupsets me to
tell. But I don't mind a-goin' over the old ground once ag'in, Master
'Arry, as you know werry well, if these yer gents 'as a mind to listen
to a hold man's yarn. It beats all the printed stories as ever I see,
but then, as I ain't no scholar, and can't see werry well neither,
p'raps that ain't no much wonder arter all. Reading ain't much in my
line, yer see, sir, and, as the old master used to say, "Bring u