ared the Ba, steadying herself by leaning on my shoulder, Maggie
stood half up and waved the lantern, and it was answered from the wreck.
Next moment it seemed to me we were on the lee side, and Maggie herself
hailed the shipwrecked people.

"We cannot come nearer!" she cried; "lower your boat and follow our
light closely."

"Take the tiller now," she continued, addressing me, "and steer for the
light you see on the cliff. Keep her well up, though, or all will be
lost."

We waited--and that with difficulty--for a few minutes, till we saw by
the starlight that the yacht's boat was lowered, then away we went.

The light on the cliff-top moved slowly down the wind. I kept the boat's
head a point or two above it, and on she dashed. The rocks loomed black
and high as we neared them, the waves breaking in terrible turmoil
beneath.

Suddenly the light was lowered over the cliff down to the very water's
edge.

"Steady, now!" cried my brave cousin, and next moment we were round a
point and into smooth water, with the yacht's boat close beside us. The
place was partly cave, partly "_noss_." We beached our boats, and here
we remained all night, and were all rescued next morning by a
fisherman's yawl.

The yacht's people were the captain, his wife, and one boy--the whole
crew Norwegians, Brinster by name.

My story is nearly done. What need to tell of the gratitude of those
Maggie's heroism had saved from a watery grave!

But it came to pass that when, a few months afterwards, a beautiful new
yacht came round to the fiord to take those shipwrecked mariners away,
Cousin Maggie went with them on a visit.

It came to pass also that when I paid my very next visit to R---- in the
following summer, I found living at my relative's house a Major Brinster
and a Mrs. Brinster.

And Mrs. Brinster was my Cousin Maggie, and Major Brinster was my Cousin
Maggie's fate.

THE PEDLAR'S PACK.

BY LUCIE E. JACKSON.

Colonel Bingham was seated in his library facing the window that looked
out on to the green sloping lawn, the smiling meadow, and the dark belt
of firs which skirted the wood. There was a frown on his brow, and his
eyes wore a perplexed look. On the opposite side of the room stood a
young girl of seventeen balancing herself adroitly on the ridge of a
chair, and smiling with evident satisfaction at her own achievement.

The colonel was speaking irritably.

"You see, you can't even now sit still while I speak to