ortions, with a gentle pretty wife and lovable
family, also had a decided leaning to this crystal.

One evening the group, finding its favourite part of the deck occupied,
was driven to a position near the tent of the smoky crystal, and,
sitting down not far from the engineer's quarters, began to indulge in
song. Grave and gay alternated. Duets followed; trios ensued, and
miscellaneous new forms of harmony sometimes intervened.

"Do sing a solo, Miss Hazlit," said the Scottish maiden. "I like your
voice _so_ much, and want to hear it alone. Will you sing?"

Aileen had an obliging spirit. She at once began, in a low contralto
voice, "I cannot sing the old songs."

Sometimes in private life one hears a voice so sweet, so thrilling, with
a "something" so powerful in it, that one feels, amid other sensations
of pleasure, great satisfaction to think that none of the public singers
in the world could "bat that" if they were to try their best, and that
few of them could equal it!

Such a voice was that of our heroine. It drew towards her the soul,
body, and spirit of the music-lovers who listened. Of course we do not
deny that there were some who could not be drawn thus. There were a
few, among the smoky crystals, for whom a draw of the pipe or a mildly
drawn pot of bitter beer had greater charms than sweet sounds, however
melting. With the exceptions of these, nearly all who chanced to be
within hearing drew near to the musical group, and listened while that
most, beautiful of songs was being warbled in tones not loud but
inexpressibly pathetic.

Among the listeners was our friend Edgar Berrington. Seated, as usual,
in front of the great crank, with bare muscular arms folded on his broad
chest and a dark frown on his forehead, he riveted his eyes on the crank
as if it were the author of all his anxieties. Suddenly the terminating
lines, "I cannot sing the old songs, they are too dear to me," rising
above the din of machinery, floated gently down through iron
lattice-work, beams, rods, cranks, and bars, and smote upon his ear.

Like a galvanised man he sprang on his legs and stood erect. Then, if
we may say so, like a human rocket, he shot upwards and stood on the
margin of the crowd. Being head and shoulders over most of them he
observed a clear space beside the singer. The night was dark, features
could not be discerned, even forms were not easily recognisable. He
glided into the open space, and silentl