m than ever, for his compasses were
gone, and the ship had a dangerous "list." However, he soon bethought
him of a tiny pocket-compass which he had in his state-room. Working
with this, and managing to get a sight of the sun, he contrived to get
within fourteen miles of Gibraltar--which was very fair seamanship. He
reached Genoa; but the ship was sixteen days overdue, and the people at
home were alarmed. On the morning after the "Coquet's" arrival one of
her owners looked through a local journal, and, finding no good news,
went and got his shares under-written 60 per cent. more. On coming out
of the office he was met by a friend, who heartily congratulated him on
his good luck. When he asked wherein the good luck consisted, he was
shown a paragraph in another local journal which stated that "The
steamship 'Coquet' arrived at Genoa, sixteen days overdue. Boats gone,
port bulwark gone, compasses gone, and two men lost overboard."

The lesson to be learned from the "Coquet's" escape is simple. In that
very gale as many men were killed at sea as would have fallen in a
moderately important battle. The number of missing steamers was great,
and there is no doubt but that most of these vessels foundered. The
"Coquet" was built under the eye of a critic who did not suffer
champagne to bias his ideas of solid workmanship. She is still earning
heavy dividends for her owners. The steamers that broke in two and went
down were not superintended on the stocks by a shrewd and vigilant
overlooker: so they drowned their crews.

THE SIBYL.

An old woman lived in a one-roomed cottage among the sand hills bordering
the sea. Her place was only a hut with thatched roof and stone floor,
but coals were plentiful, so Mary was able to make herself very
comfortable. The wind made a great noise with moaning and shrieking
among the bents, but Mary was not learned enough in romantic literature
to be moved by weird sounds. She did not like to hear a fox howl on the
hill, because that woeful cry boded ill fortune; but the tumult of
ordinary winter evenings never affected her. All day she crouched over
her fire, filling her pipe at intervals with coarse tobacco, and smoking
sedately. She did not look up when people entered, for her sight was
dim; yet she knew the tread and the voice of every lad in the village
who had once been in her company, and she very rarely made mistakes in
bestowing her greetings. Her face was like a walnut-shell, so de