n accident had deprived the hideous old
crone of the use of one of her legs, which she dragged after her by the
help of a crutch. But though she could not move quickly in consequence
of her lameness, she was an excellent hand at quickening the motions of
those who had the misfortune to be under her control.

Her son Robert, who went by the familiar appellation of "Bully Bob,"
was the counterpart of his mother. A lazy, drunken fellow, who might be
seen from morning till night lounging, with his pipe in his mouth, on
the well-worn settle at the door, humming some low ribald song to chase
away the lagging hours, till the shades of evening roused him from his
sluggish stupor to mingle with gamblers and thieves in their low
debauch. The expression of this young man's face was so bad, and his
manners and language so coarse and obscene, that he was an object of
dislike and dread to his low associates, who regarded him as a fit
subject for the gallows. In the eyes of his mother, Bob Mason was a very
fine young man--a desirable mate for any farmer's daughter in the
country.

The old Spanish proverb, "Poverty makes a man acquainted with strange
bedfellows," was never more fully exemplified than in the case of these
people and their next door neighbours.

Dorothy Grimshawe was the widow of a fisherman, whose boat foundered in
the dreadful storm of the 10th of October, 1824. Like many others, who
sailed from the little port high in health and hope, expecting to reap a
fine harvest from the vast shoals of herrings which annually visit that
coast, Daniel Grimshawe fell a prey to the spoiler, Death, that stern
fisher of men.

The following morning, after the subsidence of the gale, the beach for
miles was strewn with pieces of wreck, and the bodies of forty drowned
men were cast ashore! Most of these proved to be natives of the town;
and the bodies being carried to the town-hall, notice was sent to the
wives of the absent fishermen to come and claim their dead.

This awful summons quickly collected a crowd to the spot. Many anxious
women and children were there, and Dorothy Grimshawe and her little ones
came with the rest.

"Thank the good God! my man is not there," said a poor woman, coming out
with her apron to her face. "The Lord save us! 'tis a fearsome sight."

"He may be food for the crabs at the bottom of the sea," said a hoarse
voice from the crowd; "you are not going to flatter yourself, Nancy,
that you are better off