one of the fishermen on the coast, with whose
assistance she was speedily righted and baled out; and, after having
done what we came for at Largs we returned homewards.

"Meet me to-morrow at ten o'clock, Mr. Charles," said Douglas, as he
grasped my hand at parting, "and you shall then hear my story, and judge
whether or not I have cause to grieve."

At the appointed hour next morning I hastened to the rendezvous. The
fisherman was already there, waiting for me.

"I daresay you are surprised to see me here so soon," said he; "but
now that I have determined to make you my confidant, I feel eager to
disburden my mind, and to seek relief from my sorrows in the sympathy of
one whom I am so proud to call my friend.

"I was not always in the humble station in which you now see me,
Mr. Stewart; but, thank Heaven! it was no misconduct of my own that
occasioned the change. My father was an English clergyman, whose
moderate stipend denied to his family the luxuries of life; but we had
reason to acknowledge the truth of the wise man's saying, that 'a dinner
of herbs, where love is, is better than more sumptuous fare where that
love is not'. We were a united and a happy family, contented with the
competence with which Providence had blessed us, and pitying, not
envying, those who, endowed with greater wealth, were exposed to
greater temptations. Oh! those happy, happy days! It sometimes almost
maddens me, Mr. Stewart, to compare myself, as I am now, with what I
was then. Every morning I rose with a light and happy heart, exulting
in the sunbeam that awakened me with its smile, and blessing, in the
gladfulness of youthful gratitude, the gracious Giver of light and life.
My heart overflowed with love to all created beings. I could look back
without regret, and the future was bright with hope. And now, what am I?
A broken-hearted man, but still, after all my sufferings, grateful to
the hand which has chastened me. I can picture the whole family grouped
on a summer evening, now, Mr. Stewart, as vividly as a sight of
yesterday, though fifty years have cast their dark shadows between. My
mother, seated beside her work-table under the neat verandah in front of
our cottage, encouraging my sisters, with her sweet smile and gentle
voice, in the working of their first sampler; my father, seated with his
book, under the shade of his favourite laburnum tree; while my brother
and I were trundling our hoops round the garden, shouting with boyi