e need to risk my
siller for the sake o' a pund or twa mair income i' the year. Fetch me
the ink, Peggy."

A letter was quickly written, in which worthy Mrs Niven agreed to her
relative's proposal, and thanked him for the interest he took in her
affairs. Having despatched Peggy with it to the post, she re-read Mr
Black's epistle, and in doing so observed the postscript, which, being
on the fourth page, had escaped her on the first perusal.

"Hoots!" said she, "that's stipid. I didna notice the PS." Reading in
a low tone, and commenting parenthetically, she continued, "`By the way,
did not one of your lodgers, a student, sail in the _Lively Poll_,
(Atweel did he; he telt _me_, though he telt naebody else, an' gaed
muckle again' _my_ wull) as a common sailor?' (Common indeed! na, na,
he was an uncommon sailor, if he was onything.) `If so, you'll be sorry
to learn that the _Lively Poll_ is lost, and all her crew and passengers
have per--'"

Instead of reading "perished" poor Mrs Niven finished the sentence with
a shriek, and fell flat on the floor, where she was found soon after,
and with difficulty restored to consciousness by the horrified Peggy.

That same morning, in his lowly cottage on the Scottish border, Mr John
Jack opened a newspaper at the breakfast-table. Besides Mrs Jack there
sat at the table four olive branches--two daughters and two sons--the
youngest of whom, named Dobbin, was peculiarly noticeable as being up to
the eyes in treacle, Dobbin's chief earthly joy being "treacle pieces."

Mr Jack's eye soon fell on the message from the sea. Of course he knew
nothing of the writer, but recognised the name of the vessel as being
that in which his son had sailed for the Southern Seas, for our hero had
written to tell of his departure, although he had not asked or waited
for advice. Mr Jack was a man of strong nerve. Rising quietly from
the table, he left the room, but his wife noticed the expression of his
face, and followed him into their bedroom.

"What's wrang, John?"

The poor man turned abruptly, drew his wife to him, and pressed her head
on his breast.

"O Maggie!" he said, in a low husky voice, "`the Lord gave, and the Lord
hath taken away,' can you finish the sentence?"

"Ay, `blessed be the name o' the Lord,'" said Mrs Jack in a tremulous
voice; "but what--"

"Listen," said her husband, and he read out the fatal message.

"It canna be--oh! it canna be--that my Teddie is gone," said