Year: 1873

told, that was all. Of the future, noth- ing either, except dim and awful won der. But plainly, wildly before my eyes saw the figure of my wife, sitting at work by the fire, waiting and watch ing for me-for me, who never should come. That was the bitterness of it.

 And yet withal was not unconscious of Q certain vague sense of the ludicrous- scorn of myself, that should be thus stuck up astride beam, like some lad at play, sport for the 5uffetings of the clements. With this, too, an un- speakable rage; kind of crushed de- fance, revolt against the doom which was imminent in a revolt which felt it's self hopeless and useless from it's be- ginning.

 Whilst all this storm of conflicting thoughts was whirling through my brain, the turmoil outside was diminish ing. The wind had hushed for Q while, and across my face there came for Q moment a sort of ruddy glow, the last beams of the sun settling rapidly into the sea. The vapors divided for a mo- ment, the huge dark mass of a noun tain drowned down upon me-for mo- ment only--then the clouds encom- passed me once more-the glow died away-the awful gloomy gray of night began to gather in upon me like a net.

 Should I drop into the sea, and end it all 7? To die in the dark would be more horrible than anything else. Even on the quietest, most resigned death-bed, the loss of light is the most disquieting trouble to the departing soul. Light l! more light is the last cry of the spirit in extremity. And now it seemed as though nature had determined to spare me no pang of all the gathering horrors of my doom. Darkness and despair were settling down upon my soul. Then came the storm once more with rush of gathered rain, howl, shout, q roar of triumph, as the shrill wind trumpeted past, precursor of a more furious blast. I could bear no more. A sapless, nerveless form was, swept from the beam like @ withered leaf from branch, and fell-catching at some cross beams as fell, but losing my hold in moment, and dropping helplessly down.

 Once more consciousness returned. A vague silvery light was diffused about me, above were stars shining, huge bulks of timber glimmered overhead. I was stretched upon bed of wet sand, lying on my back, looking up into the sky. ":''..- a.'" 'a'i ..7

 I was not dead, then. No! Was I maimed, crushed? I drew up one limb after another, fearing lest sudden shout of agony should betray some grievous hurt But no l was sound in limb and as I raised myself and looked about, felt that, except for dig ziness and wonderful ringing that was ceaselessly going on in my head, I was unhurt. And I was saved! That was as might happen. ..

 When rose and stood upon my feet, looked around me, and saw that had fallen upon little island, narrow spit of sand that had formed in the eddy caused by the pile of the bridge. On each, side of 1t ran @ strong and rapid current. All this saw by the light of the moon, sometimes bright, sometimes obscured, as she parted her way among the fast driving clouds. .'@

 Distantly across the water shone the lights of the little town. It had its gas lamps, which sparkled brilliantly in the ] night ; and from out of the black rocks which showed against the skyline, here and there the light of a candle in cot tage window gleamed like fairy lampS

 On the other side of the estuary there were no lights but the straining eye might discern the gloom of high hills, that seemed. indeed, only like darksome chasms in the sky but as watched, I saw tiny star that was gliding among the rocks. Now seen, now lost, I fol lowed it with longing eyes; and listen ing intently, I. heard the chatter of horses hoofs and the murmur of wheels rising and falling, as the road wound in and out among the rocks further or nearer. It was some carriage rolling rapidly towards home-towards p1y home, and here was l, a castaway

 shouted, but my voice seemed lost in the great space. The wind carried it up the river, blew it away into stuffed fragments. It was useless to cry. No one would hear me. How long should have to live? Was there any chance that might yet escape? I could not swim the channel on either side was, therefore, an unpassable barrier. Even had l been an excellent swimmer, I doubt if in my enfeebled state I could have won the further bank of the chan nel, where the current was running the least swiftly. How long would my island remain uncovered by the sea?

 Six or eight feet above my head, tangled masses of sea-weed hanging in the interstices of the woodwork showed the highest reach of the tide. The ebb had commenced an hour before I started from Abermaw. Allowing an hour for my subsequent adventures, the ebb would still have three hours to run l; then another three hours flood would elapse before the tide would once more reach me. remembered that I had q flask of metal in my pocket which still contained a dram of brandy, and that I had a few fragments of biscuit in my pocket, remaining of some that my wife had packed up for my use cuple of days before. I drank the brandy and munched the biscuits, and felt again hopeful. Six hours Why, in that time help might come. Death was no longer imminent. -l

 But Twas entirely wrong. The strong southwesterly gales had piled up the waters about the mouth of the estuary, so that the ebb was checked, and the flood increased, and the tide ran out only some three hours. I must have been longer lying on the sand, too, than had calculated, for, as I watched the waters hurrying down on each side of me, noticed that the current seemed to slacken all of sudden; then it stopped, so that fragment of bleached wood that was floating downward came to rest, then moved slowly once more upwards. The tide had turned.

 In a very short time the expanse of waters before me, that had just now seemed broad river outlet, scored and marked with sand-banks, assumed the appearance of an agitated sea. Short waves hurried along, their white crests gleaming in the moonlight; they came in serried lines, tier over tier the hoarse roar of the advancing tide re- verberated in the air, mingling in my