room-and at the same moment a scream from Aunty. On looking up, I discovered the presence of a stranger. My gaze no sooner fell upon his countenance than I also uttered a cry of surprise.

"Robert-Robert!" cried Aunty.

"Robert-Robert Alison!" cried Aunty again. The young man advanced towards her, and bowing, said, "My name is Robert Alison."

if he was Mr. Alison-Robert Alison? He said yes, and he wanted to see Mistress Patterson. Aunty was still standing with the young man, throwing the light upon the picture with her hand. I said in a whisper, pointing to Aunty, "that is Mistress Patterson!" The old man Had the picture stepped down from its frame, started, and seized my arm as if for support. or was this some conjuration of the fancy? Aunty still stood there shading the light, and the There, his hat in his hand, and his glossy black old man grasping my arm more tightly, remained hair hanging in clustering curls round his hand-gazing at her abstractedly. At length, turnsome head, stood the very embodiment of the ing to me, he said in a low voice-"Excuse me, picture of Robert Alison. I have sustained a shock. Forty years ago, that was the bonniest lass in this town; during that time I have thought of her as she was then. I meet her now when both she and I are verging towards the grave. I shouldn't have recognized my old sweetheart, and I daresay she will not recognize me." I went up to Aunty and told her who had come. She came forward to where the old man was standing, with the candle still in her hand. She gazed at his snow-white hair, and thin, sallow face, and said calmly, holding out her hand, "Well, Robert; and so we have met at last, after forty years." 'We have," returned old Robert Alison; and having been old sweethearts, there will be no harm in an embrace, especially as I am a widower and you a widow." And the old man took Aunty in his arms, and kissed her right heartily.

"I knew it-I knew it ;" cried Aunty, with almost frantic joy; and, rising from her chair, she rushed to the young man and threw her arms round his neck. Poor Aunty had been dwelling in imagination upon her old sweetheart, and seeing his very counterpart before her, was lost to all sense of the possibility of his being the same person from whom she had parted forty years before. I myself was puzzled, and it was some moments before it flashed upon me that the person before us might be Robert Alison's son. The young man was seriously embarrassed, but kindly took the good old soul's embraces without attempting to disenchant her. While she hung round him, calling him her "dear Robert," I explained to the young man that I was her nephew, and that Aunty, who was fast sinking into dotage, had taken him for his father, to whom, as he might know, she was attached in her youth. He said he knew that, and that his father was coming in presently. Meantime, Aunty hung about him, calling him by endearing names, and reminding him of their young days, and of their sorrowful parting on the old bridge.

"Don't you remember, Robert, the old bridge, and my flaxen curls shining in the wind that morning when I came to say farewell? Comecome and sit by me ;" and when the young man took a seat by her side, she stroked his glossy curls, and, turning to me, said proudly

"You see it is jet black as I told you-black and glossy, and all in curls, just like the one that he gave me forty years ago."

The candles were now alight, and as Aunty said these words, her eyes fell upon her own shrivelled fingers, which embraced the fresh, young hand of her old sweetheart's son. "Forty years ago," she repeated with a sigh; “dear, dear, what a foolish old woman I am;-I am wandering in my wits." Here she paused, and covered her face with her hands. At length she said, more calmly, "I have been dreaming, young man, as if time had been standing still for forty years. You can't be my Robert Alison, but you must be Robert Alison's son. Look," she said, before he had time to reply; "there is your portrait, just as if you had sat for it;" and so saying, she took the candle, and led the young man to the picture. Meanwhile a knock came to the door, and an old grey-bearded man entered at my bidding.

"Mistress Patterson ?" said the stranger inquiringly.

I stepped up quietly to him, and asked him

I fully expected a "scene;" but I was greatly relieved to find that the old sweethearts were by no means disposed to be sentimental. The old man and his son stopped and supped, and after supper Aunty grew quite chatty and cheerful, and talked in a light and airy way of old times. And at last she brought out Robert's black curl; and the old man laughed, and said he could not supply any more according to that sample. "Nor do I suppose, Mistress Patterson,” he added, taking a locket from his neck, "that you can execute an order according to that;" and so saying, he took out the tress of flaxen hair which Aunty had given him on the old bridge forty years before. There were tears in Aunty's eyes, as she looked upon the two locks lying side by side in her lap.

Robert Alison settled down in his native town, and was once more Aunty's sweetheart. He was a constant visitor at her house, and often walked out with her to the old bridge where they parted in their youth. The neighbours laughed to see the old couple always together, and said, pleasantly, that the best thing they could do, since they had been sweethearts so long, was to get married. But Aunty always said she had had enough of marrying.

Aunty did not live long after the arrival of her old sweetheart. The infirmities of age came upon her very fast, and the last time she went out she was wheeled in a chair to the old bridge, and Robert Alison walked with tottering steps by her side.

Aunty lies in the churchyard now, in the corner yonder, under the rowan tree! And last year Robert Alison was laid by her side. The iron-founder and the accountant repose hard by; but they have nothing to say to it.

"fit" had come at last; however, it was soon proved that it was only a sleepy fit, brought on by the late hour and a full glass of strong Christmas ale.

The appearance of the Master "at the kitchen door caused silence and surprise; for it was not yet twelve, the hour appointed for breaking up.

"I am sorry to shorten your pleasure, lads, said my grandfather, kindly; "but, listen!" He held up his hand, and again the loud gun boomed out in the distance.

"You hear? It is some vessel needs help. We must give it, if we can. You may all be useful, lads, on such a night. You, William, belong to the life-boat, do you not?" This question he addressed to a smart sailor lad, who was the ac knowledged sweetheart of Christian, the pretty housemaid.

"Yes, Master!"

"Then see that she is manned and off." Aye, aye, sir!"

large scale, as a matter of course a great many men were constantly employed about his premises; and all these, their wives and daughters, and sometimes sweethearts (if Nanny approved) were privileged to share the Master's hospitality. And up in his quiet room sat the Master, ever and anon smiling at the sounds that proceeded from the revellers in the kitchen-the uproarious laugh, the not very light movements of toe and heel, the double shuffle, and the occasional exhilarating exclamation of "Whew!" as they danced their Irish reels, all combining to show the state of unalloyed happiness enjoyed below. It was a glorious old kitchen, too, bright with pewter plates, and other articles of the same shining metal, that reflected the cheerful blaze of the large fire; the floor, composed of the dark Pooleash stone found in the island, showed off the clean white stockings and aprons of the women, among whom the pretty housemaid with her smart cap shone as the belle of the evening. It must be confessed that the fiddle was not a Cremona, and that the bass-him back, "remember that if shelter or warnth viol was wofully scraped by Dick Brown, who, being blind, was brought in by a boy (whose business it was to lead him), so fat that he was a very painful exhibition; for, as Nanny used to say of him, "It is choke he will, some day, for sure." Peter Quiggan, too, was there with his fife, which he had played for so many years that his mouth had grown all on one side, as if it was going round to look after his ear, which, if it was in the usual place, certainly had not a very finely organized tympanum, or it never could have submitted to listen to the discordant sounds that Peter's mouth had been instrumental in producing for so many years. However, the company was not fastidious, and found no fault; and except the occasional rousing remark of "Play up, Peter!" nothing was said in the way of musical criticism.

And the night fast wore away with the merriment, and "The Master's health' was just being spoken of, as being the proper ceremony to conclude so happy a meeting with.

"And William," said my grandfather, calling

is wanting, it is to be had here:" and he pointed to the ample hearth and blazing fire.

"God bless you, sir, I will," was the reply, and he was gone out of the kitchen, and Christian following him with her pretty eyes full of tears.

"Now, any of you that are able to help, go at once," said my grandfather, "and do so willingly. You shall be no losers by any kind act that I may hear you have done in the morning. Iam too old to help now, as I once could; I should be in the way. But all go now, and let me hear the earliest news-I shall not go to bed till I do."

They were soon all gone; the late noisy kitchen was quiet enough now; nothing was heard but the still heavy, booming signal, and the noise of the storm.

"Make up a large fire, Nanny, and have plenty of comforts ready, they may be wanted." said the Master, as he left the kitchen. And then up he went once more to his lonely roombut not to read now; no, there he was, his tall venerable figure thrown out in its full grandeur by the dark back-ground of the crimson curtain that he stood against; his face full of intense anxiety and sorrow; his fine benevolent-looking bald head fringed round the back part by a few looks as white as snow. He, too, had suffered deeply by the overwhelming sea, and thoughts of past agony had come crowding back upon his memory, the more especially as amidst the howl ing of the tempest he could distinctly hear the most piercing shrieks. "Spare them, O God! Spare them!" he murmured, "if but for the sakes of those who are longing to meet them!" and he sat down again, and pressed his hands against his temples, while drops of agony from his forehead. The excitement seemed almost too much for him. He could only wait patiently, however, for whatever tidings would be brought to him, and hour after hour went by, and shriek after shriek was still heard, when the wind lulled a little. At last he heard a hurried footstep coming towards the house, and being too impatient to go down-stairs, he threw

As for the Master himself, he still sat alone with his book, well knowing that it was useless to retire to rest while the noise below continued. All at once, however, he rose from his chair, flung down his book, and walked suddenly to the close-curtained window, and there stood, in the attitude of an intense listener, with one hand placed to his ear, as if to concentrate some sound from without, of which he seemed uncertain. Presently his fears were confirmed, for the loud booming of a ship's gun came distinctly on the ear, in spite of the battering rain and wind, which showed how the storm was raging. "A signal of distress from some vessel on the rocks! The lads may be useful!" he said, speaking to himself. And then, gathering up the ample folds of his flowing dressing-gown, he took his lamp from the table and descended to the kitchen. As he entered, most of the party were in the act of dragging up fat Bob (the blind man's lad) from the floor; which act was accompanied with roars of laughter. Bob had fallen suddenly off his seat, and Nanny believed that her prophecies about him had come to pass, and that the long-impending | open the window.

fell

"Who's there?" he called out aloud.
"Kelly-Master."
"What news? "

"The crew is all saved, and I come to tell you."

"Good fellow!" says my grandfather; "go

for some ale round to the kitchen."

"The life-boat did it, Master-brought all the crew ashore; leastways all as they could." "I thought you said they were all saved?" said my grandfather, in a disappointed tone. "Lord bless you, Master, all the crew is saved; but it's a large vessel gone to pieces on Conister Rock, and it's a pity to hear them other poor creaters a shrieking-there's hundreds on 'em!" Passengers!" exclaimed my grandfather,

in an agony.

"No; pigs, Master; it was a whole cargo, and

Conister is covered with 'em!"

"Come in, sir, come in," called out Nanny, running into the room; "it's your death you'll be getting, putting your head out of the window in this storm;" and she shut down the window with a bang. But my grandfather was in too pleasant a mood at that moment to find fault with anyone, so he only said, "Get my candle, Nanny, and we will all to bed now; I have just heard what will keep me warm the rest of the night-the crew are saved, Nanny."

"Well, it's a blessing, that, to be sure; but it's just like that fool, Tom Kelly, to come bawling here under the window, instead of coming to the back-door, which is his place."

My grandfather smiled; for he knew the great grievance was that Nanny had not had the news first. However, he took up his candle and went to his room without enlightening the old woman any more on the subject; and there, in the retirement of his chamber, he thanked Heaven for saving those poor souls so lately in great peril, and went to sleep smiling at the thoughts of having his sympathies so actively interested in the shriekings of the poor pigs.

PORTABLE SECURITY.

new,

We are always thankful for information; everybody is, or ought to be. But there is something else for which we are ready at any time to pay down the most liberal amount of gratitude, and that something is-a handsome, and convenient phrase. Just such a phrase will be found at the head of these remarks. A better we have not encountered since the publication, in the police reports of the daily papers, of a certain adventurer's happy turn of language in explaining why he had her securities, and to invest the sum in his expe induced a too confiding widow to sell out all rienced hands. He said his object was to place the widow's property "more within a focus."

We are not sure that even this can be pro

the

nounced superior, in a poetical or a practical view, to the phrase "portable security," as applied to a pawnbroker's ticket, on strength of which the holder seeks to obtain a indebted to a correspondent for the elucidation further advance from a third party. We are of a mystery which has troubled the mind of that "INCONSTANT READER" whose habit of overlooking the news of the week is familiar to the world through our pages. In addition to the knowledge imparted to us through a letter, which we deem good enough to print, we feel intellectually stronger by the acquisition of the And now, let our polite informant be heard :— compact and elegant phrase we have quoted.

"SIR,-In reply to an inquiry from your "Mole's Nest' offered for small loans, I think he may for the future correspondent respecting the extraordinary premiums sleep, eat, smoke, and shave' on the following solution.

"Actuated simply by a spirit of curiosity, some two or three months since, I wrote to a trio of these advertising worthies, telling them that the cash was waiting anxiously to be called for at my residence on the terms proposed. They all attended. The first applicant, on the word Security bein mentioned, extracted from his purse a duplicate for a gold watch pledged for £14; this he proposed lodging with me for securing £15 I was to lend him, and £6 bonus. The watch, he assured me, was by Dent, and well worth £40; "Lord, Master!" was Nanny's first exclama- again from the borrower, I was to lay out £14 and interest so that, in the very probable event of my never hearing tion as she brought in my grandfather's choco--say, altogether £31 including the £15 lent), for a gold late at breakfast-time; "why, what will become watch pledged for £14, and sell it (if I could!) at a profit of us? I have read in the Bible about the sufficient to repay cash and interest! Of course I laughed heartily at his "portable security," as he termed it, and plague of frogs, that came 'even into the King's dismissed No. 1. The two followers had watches also; chambers;' but what is frogs to pigs? and sure and there can be no manner of doubt that the valuable enough we have a plague of them come on us. shop, and pledged for nearly their utmost value; and if gold watches are got up' solely for the pawnbroker's Why, they're on the beach, and in the streets, the advertisers can procure £15 on the ticket, a profit of and in the houses; and, the Lord be good to us!£10 at least will accrue on the transaction.-W. H. F.” but as they were tolling the bell this morning for Billy Quane's wife's funeral, there was dozens got into the chapel, and began eating the ould hassocks; we shall have everything eaten up that 's in the town

It was not quite as bad as Nanny anticipated; but those who have never witnessed such a scene cannot well conceive it. Pigs were everywhere -all sorts of pigs too: some sadly crippled as well as starved-invalid pigs of every phase. Many found a watery grave too, and dead pigs were floating in with every tide. The "Flotsam and Jetsam❞ of that night's wreck caused many a cottage to boast of having a flitch of bacon, where nothing had ever been known to be there before but salt herrings for winter stock. But pork-pork was everywhere; and this, I believe, is Why I Cannot Eat Pork to this day.

The lucid explanation afforded by the foregoing letter will carry peace into the heart of Mole's Nest. Will it induce the Editor of the respectable daily newspaper in which these fraudulent advertisements have heretofore appeared, to exclude them utterly for the future? It is true, that people who are likely to be taken in by them do not deserve sympathy, and on that ground their publication may be plausibly excused. But, though knaves be cheated, knaves should not any the more be allowed to cheat. Who can be certain, if rascality be tolerated on the plea of its isolation, that it will not break bounds? Assuming the letter of "W. H. F." to contain the true answer to a curious problem, we venture to hope that further discussion will be rendered needless by a withdrawal of the unseemly cause.-ED. W. G.