ink.

Is it to be wondered at that Nellie lost some of her old
characteristics--that, the wages being spent on drink, she found it hard
to provide the mere necessaries of life for herself and her boy, and
that she finally gave up the struggle to keep either person or house as
neat and orderly as of yore, while a haggard look and lines of care
began to spoil the beauty of her countenance? Or is it a matter for
surprise that her temper began to give way under the strain?

"You are ruining yourself and killing me," said the sorely-tried wife
one evening--the last evening of a spell on shore--as Jim staggered into
the once sunny home to bid his wife good-bye.

It was the first time that Nellie had spoken roughly to him. He made no
answer at first. He was angry. The Green Dragon had begun to
demoralise him, and the reproof which ought to have melted only hardened
him.

"The last of the coals are gone," continued the wife with bitterness in
her tone, "and there's scarcely enough of bread in the house for a good
supper to Jimmie. You should be ashamed of yourself, Jim."

A glare of drunken anger shot fiercely from the fisherman's eyes. No
word did he utter. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the house and
shut the door after him with cannon-shot violence.

"O Jim--stop Jim!" burst from timid Nellie. "I'll never--"

She ceased abruptly, for the terrified Jimmie was clinging to her
skirts, and her husband was beyond the reach of her voice. Falling on
her knees, she prayed to God passionately for pardon. It was their
first quarrel. She ended by throwing herself on her bed and bursting
into a fit of sobbing that not only horrified but astounded little Jim.
To see his mother sobbing wildly while he was quiet and grave was a
complete inversion of all his former experiences. As if to carry out
the spirit of the situation, he proceeded to act the part of comforter
by stroking his mother's brown hair with his fat little hand until the
burst of grief subsided.

"Dare, you's dood now, muzzer. Tiss me!" he said.

Nellie flung her arms round the child and kissed him fervently.

Meanwhile James Greely's smack, the _Dolphin_, was running down the Yare
before a stiff breeze, and Jim himself had commenced the most momentous,
and, in one sense, disastrous voyage of his life. As he stood at the
tiller, guiding his vessel with consummate skill out into the darkening
waters, his heart felt like lead. He would have give