sts. The walls are studded
with innumerable barnacles, dogwinkles and other shells--not dead and
empty, but full of living creatures, requiring only the return of the
tide to awaken them to an active existence. There are simply myriads
of them: a random stone thrown against a wall will smash a whole
colony; and there are besides polyps and sea-anemones and other
strange animals of eccentric habits in unusual abundance. The visitors
to Tenby find great diversion in these and the other caves on the
coast: in fact, the whole coast as far as Milford Haven is one
succession of natural curiosities and antiquities. One cavern bears
the name of Merlin's Cave, and is hallowed by a legend of the
enchanter, who was born at Carmarthen in the next county.

WIRT SIKES.

NOCTURNE.

There'll come a day when the supremest splendor
Of earth or sky or sea,
Whate'er their miracles, sublime or tender,
Will wake no joy in me.

There'll come a day when all the aspiration,
Now with such fervor fraught,
As lifts to heights of breathless exaltation,
Will seem a thing of naught.

There'll come a day when riches, honor, glory,
Music and song and art,
Will look like puppets in a wornout story,
Where each has played his part.

There'll come a day when human love, the sweetest
Gift that includes the whole
Of God's grand giving--sovereignest, completest--
Shall fail to fill my soul.

There'll come a day--I will not care how passes
The cloud across my sight,
If only, lark-like, from earth's nested grasses,
I spring to meet its light.

MARGARET J. PRESTON.

THROUGH WINDING WAYS.

CHAPTER IV.

It was soon decided that I was to set out for The Headlands the first
week in October. I had studied too hard, and was growing so tall and
slight that Harry Dart used to draw caricatures of me, taking me in
sections, he declared, since no ordinary piece of paper would suffice
for a full-length. I was glad of a change, yet felt some sorrow about
it too. I knew nothing of what it was to miss the warm home-life and
the constant companionship which had filled every idle hour with
ever-recurring pleasures. I hated to part from my mother, who had
grown of late so inestimably dear to me; I should miss the boys; what
could make up to me for Georgy? I did not know that I was never again
to enjoy the old Belfield routine, with all my untamed impulses
making the wild, free phys