er disgrace; the other, the calamity and the deaths."

"That is quite enough to know; don't ask me to go over the details to
you personally," said Mr. Hamlyn in a tone of passionate discomfort. "So
utterly repugnant to me is the remembrance altogether, that I have
never spoken of it--even to my present wife."

"Do you mean you've not told her you were once a married man?" cried
Major Pratt.

"No, I have not."

"Then you've shown a lack of judgment which I wouldn't have given you
credit for, my friend," declared the Major. "A man may whisper to his
girl any untoward news he pleases of his past life, and she'll forgive
and forget; aye, and worship him all the more for it, though it were the
having set fire to a church: but if he keeps it as a bonne bouchee to
drop out after marriage, when she has him fast and tight, she'll
curry-comb his hair for him in style. Believe that."

Mr. Hamlyn laughed.

"There never was a hidden skeleton between man and wife yet but it came
to light sooner or later," went on the Major. "If you are wise, you will
tell her at once, before somebody else does."

"What 'somebody?' Who is there here that knows it?"

"Why, as to 'here,' I know it, and nearly spoke of it before her, as you
must have heard; and my servant knows it. That's nothing, you'll say; we
can be quiet, now I have the cue: but you are always liable to meet with
people who knew you in those days, and who knew _her_. Take my advice,
Philip Hamlyn, and tell your wife. Go and do it now."

"I daresay you are right," said the younger man, awaking out of a
reverie. "Of the two evils it may be the lesser." And with lagging
steps, and eyes that seemed to have weights to them, he set out to walk
back to the Old Ship Hotel.

JOHNNY LUDLOW.

THE BRETONS AT HOME.

BY CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF "THROUGH HOLLAND," "LETTERS FROM
MAJORCA," ETC. ETC.

The English courage and constitution, for which Madame Hellard of the
Hotel d'Europe professed so much admiration, carried us through the
ordeal of a sound drenching. Perhaps our escape was partly due to
firmness of will, which goes for much; perhaps in part to the dose of
strong waters added to the black coffee our loquacious but interesting
hostess at the little auberge by the river-side had brewed for us.

[Illustration: ST. POL DE LEON.]

"Had we been to Roscoff?" she had asked us on that memorable afternoon,
when the clouds opened all their waterspouts and thre