d himself in the town of Ramsgate.

Here he made inquiries of various people, and immediately set forth
again on his travels through the land until he reached a remote part of
the coast of England, where he found his further progress checked by the
sea, but, by dint of begging a free passage from fishermen here and
there, he managed at last to reach one of our outlying reefs, where, on
a small islet, a magnificent lighthouse reared its white and stately
column, and looked abroad upon the ocean, with its glowing eye. There
was a small village on the islet, in which dwelt a few families of
fishermen. They were a hard-working community, and appeared to be
contented and happy.

The lighthouse occupied an elevated plateau above the cliffs at the
sea-ward extremity of the isle, about quarter of a mile distant from the
fishing village. Thither the old man wended his way. The tower, rising
high above shrubs and intervening rocks, rendered a guide unnecessary.
It was a calm evening. The path, which was narrow and rugged, wound its
serpentine course amid grey rocks, luxuriant brambles, grasses, and
flowering shrubs. There were no trees. The want of shelter on that
exposed spot rendered their growth impossible. The few that had been
planted had been cut down by the nor'-west wind as with a scythe.

As he drew near to the lighthouse, the old man observed a woman sitting
on a stool in front of the door, busily engaged with her needle, while
three children--two girls and a boy--were romping on the grass plat
beside her. The boy was just old enough to walk with the steadiness of
an exceedingly drunk man, and betrayed a wonderful tendency to sit down
suddenly and gaze--astonished! The girls, apparently though not really
twins, were just wild enough to enjoy their brother's tumbles, and
helped him to accomplish more of them than would have resulted from his
own incapacity to walk.

A magnificent black Newfoundland dog, with grey paws and a benignant
countenance, couched beside the woman and watched the children at play.
He frequently betrayed a desire to join them in their gambols, but
either laziness or a sense of his own dignity induced him to sit still.

"Nora," called the mother, who was a young and exceedingly beautiful
mother, "Nora, come here; go tell your father that I see a stranger
coming up the path. Quick, darling."

Little Nora bounded away like a small fairy, with her fair curls
streaming in the wind which