' Oh, you little roguo,' he said, now could you so deceive me? Now I urderetind tho strange resemblance which puzzled me so. Oh, my darling, how thankful I feel. ' Oh, Walter, are you so h ippy ?' ' Happy beyond expression my darling. Tho earth is very beautiful to mo now, where ten minutis ago it was very black. And you are really my own ?' ' les Walter, yours for ever.'

THE LOSS OF THE "SEAGULL."

By J. Salk Lloyd Like an oa?i«, upon the will coast of Corn wall, lay the estate of Sir Walter Pencourt, nestling lehind huge rocks, which forti • ed an natural protection from th« rough sea blasts blowing from St George's Channel. The Pet courts of Pencourt were an old family, and proud of their ancient lineage. They were neither rich nor poor, but hid means sufficient to maintain their position in life with every cmfort. One great «orrow hud touched their home, the death of its mnch beloved mistress j who left to mourn for her, her husbaud Sir Walter, and three children ; Arthur tho eon and heir, Leonard the second born, and Lillian the youngest and pet of all. This sorrow came to them when the girl wa« but ten years of nge, and from that time the devotion of her life had been given to her father. It was Lillian who was his doily and hourly companion. In his study while he pored over his old books; by his side, mounted on her Jong tailed pony, riding far away down the coast, or over the Cornish pasture land and beautiful fern-clad tangled lanes. Sailing in the yacht, pulling with him in the boat—in the large square pew at church, beside her mother's grave, looking over his estate—Lillian wpb always his little shadow—and so the girl had grown and grown beneath bis eyes, till she was eighteen j and to him she was still the child his wife had lett to his tender oare eight long years ago—but to no other eyes was Lillian Pen court now a child.
