had been saved, and he could not but regard himself as a
monument of the mercy, as well as of the mysterious ways of Providence.
He thanked God from the depths of his heart that he was saved, and he
was almost willing to believe that he might yet escape the fate to which
his malady had doomed him.

The hurricane subsided almost as suddenly as it had commenced; the sea
abated its violence, and the booming thunder was heard only in the
distance. The black clouds rolled away from the westward, and the stars
sparkled in the blue sky. The steward was wet to the skin, and he
shivered with cold. Where he was he had not the least idea. On the
distant shore he could see the light-houses, but what points of land
they marked he did not know. He was on the solid land, and that was the
sum total of his information. He was well nigh worn out by the
exertions and the excitement of the evening, but, turning his back to
the treacherous ocean which had swallowed up all his friends, he walked
as rapidly as his strength would admit, in order to warm himself by the
exercise. From the cliffs the land sloped upward, but he soon reached
the top of the hill, on which he paused to take an observation. From the
point where he stood there was a much sharper descent before him than on
the side by which he had come up. At the foot of the hill he saw two
lights, then a sheet of water, and beyond a multitude of lights
indicating a considerable village.

The nearest light appeared not to be over half a mile distant, and the
pale moon came out from behind the piles of black clouds to guide his
steps. The cold north-west wind had begun to blow, and it chilled the
wanderer to his very bones. He quickened his steps down the declivity,
and soon reached a rude, one-story dwelling, at the door of which he
knocked. He saw the light in the house, but no one answered his summons,
and he repeated it more vigorously than before. Then a window was
cautiously thrown open a few inches.

"Who's there?" asked a woman.

"A stranger," replied Harvey, shivering with cold, so that he could
hardly utter the words.

"My husband's over to the village, and I can't let no strangers in at
this time of night," added the woman.

"I've been cast away on the coast, and I'm really suffering," drawled
the steward, in broken sentences.

"Cast away!" exclaimed the wife of the man who was over at the village,
as she dropped the sash.

The terrible storm which had spent its fur