he dog still clung about his master's
feet, and moaned. George turned the poor animal round, and tried to
force him forward. The collie gave one very loud cry, and died. Then
George became mysteriously cold, and presently he saw a lady standing
among the shrubs. She waved to him, and he saw that her eyes were
white; then she moved through the trees and passed away. The sceptical
shepherd said that the collie had eaten some phosphorus which had been
spread for the rats, but Mary never gave this prosaic explanation. She
and George believed that the dog died of fright, and that the grave
organist had seen the lady from the tower, so many youths grew up
believing that the grim square building was haunted.

On one night of 1859, Mary had told some of her stories with much
effect. A gale was blowing from the east, and the hoarse roar of the
wind sounded very strangely. The "school" was in the goose-skinned
condition which must be attained by all who wish to catch the true
flavour of a ghost story. There came a scraping sound at the door, and a
gasping moan. The lads huddled together and dared not look round. The
moan was repeated, and Mary ordered one of her pupils to go at once and
open the door. But discipline was forgotten, and the young gentleman who
was deputed to solve the mystery stayed open-mouthed in his seat. The
old woman hobbled to the door, and found a man lying on his face. The
poor fellow was a Portuguese sailor. He had swum through the surf from a
vessel that was hard-and-fast on the rocks below the house, and it was
his last exhausted effort that startled the assembly of youths. Mary
told this story (with supernatural additions) until her death.

There are captains, mates, and sailor-men in all parts of the world who
remember the old story-teller, for it is pretty certain that her
influence had a good deal to do with sending many a tall fellow away
southward to the great seaports in quest of adventures. Her cottage is
still standing, but a sulky hind reigns there, and the unique collection
of pipes is dispersed.

A VOLUNTEER LIFE-BRIGADE.

There is generally very heavy weather in winter time on the north-east
coast. From North Sunderland the Farne Islands can hardly be seen, for
the tumultuous waves in the narrow channels throw up clouds of spray. At
the mouth of the Tyne the sea runs strongly, and the great piers have to
meet endless charges of green masses that break on the stone-work and
pour a