ppen in the world around them. Empires may rise and may
fall, dynasties may perish, great wars may come and go, but, heedless
of it all, those two shall embrace each other for ever and aye, in
their lonely shrine by the side of the sounding ocean. I sometimes have
thought that their spirits flit like shadowy sea-mews over the wild
waters of the bay. No cross or symbol marks their resting-place, but old
Madge puts wild flowers upon it at times, and when I pass on my daily
walk and see the fresh blossoms scattered over the sand, I think of the
strange couple who came from afar, and broke for a little space the dull
tenor of my sombre life.

THAT LITTLE SQUARE BOX.

"All aboard?" said the captain.

"All aboard, sir!" said the mate.

"Then stand by to let her go."

It was nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning. The good ship Spartan was
lying off Boston Quay with her cargo under hatches, her passengers
shipped, and everything prepared for a start. The warning whistle had
been sounded twice; the final bell had been rung. Her bowsprit was
turned towards England, and the hiss of escaping steam showed that all
was ready for her run of three thousand miles. She strained at the warps
that held her like a greyhound at its leash.

I have the misfortune to be a very nervous man. A sedentary literary
life has helped to increase the morbid love of solitude which, even in
my boyhood, was one of my distinguishing characteristics. As I stood
upon the quarter-deck of the Transatlantic steamer, I bitterly cursed
the necessity which drove me back to the land of my forefathers. The
shouts of the sailors, the rattle of the cordage, the farewells of my
fellow-passengers, and the cheers of the mob, each and all jarred upon
my sensitive nature. I felt sad too. An indescribable feeling, as of
some impending calamity, seemed to haunt me. The sea was calm, and the
breeze light. There was nothing to disturb the equanimity of the most
confirmed of landsmen, yet I felt as if I stood upon the verge of a
great though indefinable danger. I have noticed that such presentiments
occur often in men of my peculiar temperament, and that they are not
uncommonly fulfilled. There is a theory that it arises from a species of
second-sight, a subtle spiritual communication with the future. I well
remember that Herr Raumer, the eminent spiritualist, remarked on one
occasion that I was the most sensitive subject as regards supernatural
phenomena that he had