happy and merry ; a table was well stored with good cheer, and many a jest and popular toast went round. It was evidently a weddingfeast, from the favours worn by the company. The bride and bridegroom were easily distinguishable. She sat near the hearth, between her venerable parents, and each of them held one of her hands, and gazed on her with such deep affection, as we never may know but under the paternal roof;-affection unchangeable, untiring, devoid of all taint of selfishness, and which we never appreciate fully, till we are about to be severed from its daily enjoyment.

She was a pretty, fragile creature, who looked as though a harsh word or unkind look would have power to kill her, and yet she had trusted her all upon man's fidelity!

The bridegroom looked perfectly happy; not a cloud was on his open brow, and if affectionhonest, sincere affection could make her amends for what she was about to quit, the bride seemed to have every prospect of an unruffled future.

The large tortoise-shell cat, instead of being

extended lazily at full length, enjoying her nap as usual, was seated upright, as though in honour of the feast; and a rough shepherd's dog sat near her, in the most perfect good fellowship, wagging his shaggy tail at every fresh favour he received, in the shape of a bone or dainty morsel.

A very old woman, apparently the grandmother of the bride, was seated on the opposite side of the hearth, and in her arms slept a lovely infant, of which she had undertaken the charge on this occasion. Its downy cheek, coral lips, and soft, round arms, contrasting forcibly with the old woman's shrivelled features and hands, discoloured and hardened by labour. One had well nigh done with life, and, whatever might have been the joys, sorrows, and cares allotted to her, she had fulfilled her destiny; the other, was about to enter on existence, and who could tell what that soft infant might become-or what might be in store for it?

When the door was opened, and the joyous party inside perceived Sedley, supporting a lady,

who was apparently very ill, their mirth ceased instantaneously, for there is ten times as much sympathy amongst the lower orders, as is to be met with in the higher ranks.

The young bride sprang up from her seat, and led Teresa into an inner room, which, though humble, was a picture of neatness and cleanliness; she made her lie down on the bed, and brought her some cordial to drink, then, unbinding her forehead, she examined the wound, which was nothing more than a scratch from a stone which had glanced against her brow when she fell.

The young woman washed away the stain, which had alarmed Sedley so much, and then Teresa declared that she felt quite recovered. But the bride would not allow her to rise, and finally left the room, closing the door gently after her.

Teresa then tried to recollect the late events; she could remember her horse starting off, and then all was confusion in her memory till the

moment in which she had recognised Sedley; the words of affection she had uttered in her bewilderment were totally forgotten by her, but his expression of fond love, as he watched her returning consciousness, was vividly before her.

The worthy cottagers would not listen to Sedley's apologies for the interruption he had caused to their mirth, but when the bride returned, and informed them that the lady was quite well, only a little flurried, their conversation was resumed in whispers, and the pointed jest and sly humour went round as before.

Fortunately, the cottage was not far from Rossfirth, and Sedley went in search of his horse, and gallopped there to order a carriage to convey Teresa home.

Teresa, also, felt uneasy at the interruption she was causing to the merriment of the wedding party, and as she really was quite recovered, she rose from the bed, and opening the door gently, walked into the other room. They all rose respectfully at her entrance, and the young

bride informed her that Sedley was gone for the carriage. Teresa then insisted on their re-seating themselves, and went into the little garden before the cottage, where she sat down on a bench, and requested to be left unmolested, as the fresh air would do her more good than anything else.

The cottage was beautifully situated; it was on very high ground, which sloped rapidly down towards the sea-shore, and on the flat at the bottom, stood a picturesque group of fishermen's huts; many of the men were repairing their nets; some boats were coming in, others preparing to depart, and the whole scene exhibited a cheering appearance of life. About half way down the hill, stood the village church, a curious old building, the churchyard of which was stored with many a simple monument, raised by the wives, brothers, or daughters of poor fishermen who had perished at sea.

And that treacherous sea which had engulphed so many millions of human beings, slept as tranquilly as though no despairing struggles had ever taken place beneath its waves, or no goodly