THE SEA KINGS: hastily; in a moment they will be here, and you In the in:tant that he spoke, however, the AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE TIME OF boar, having disabled three or four dogs that ALFRED. CHAPTER XVI. "THE Lady Elfrida," replied Elfrida, "ought to be very grateful for the courtesy that you offer her. Ride on, then, Sir Edmund, I entreat you, or I may perhaps have to bear from my brother the blame of having been a clog upon your amusement. I would gladly be spared the humiliation of feeling myself an object of scorn, or even of indulgent pity." 66 You will not, then," returned Edmund, cast the reproach of effeminacy upon me when I acknowledge to you that I am under the influence of these same foolish notions, and that I never without reluctance join in the chase, even of those animals whose strength and fierceness render them dangerous. Probably the contempt which you expected from me would be amply poured upon myself by your brother if he were to learn that, though I have frequently complied with the thane's request to attend him in his sports, I have never yet killed a single stag, fox, badger, wolf, or boar." 66 were heading him, and, perhaps not liking the "Are you mad, Elfrida ?" cried Sigifred, as 66 Stop!-stop!" While he yet called out, he perceived that her flushed, and his eyes bright and angry. Edmund saw at a glance that his face was "I will tell you presently," was the answer. "Let us first assist the Lady Elfrida." "She wants no assistance but mine!" cried Assuredly," said Elfrida, with a pleased smile, the hot youth; and, furiously urging on his "he would rate your courage and accomplish-horse, which was swifter than that upon which ments at the very lowest. If I were a man, I Edmund rode, shot instantly ahead, and, would rather aid to destroy the boar at once, than quickly overtaking Elfrida, stooped, and caught leave him to an equally certain, but more pro-at her reins with such fury, while at the same tracted, death. I do not, however, if you lack the moment he checked his own, that her horse, necessary skill, advise you to propitiate the making a sudden stop, threw her with violence esteem of Sigifred by entering into a personal to the ground. It was with difficulty that contest with so formidable a brute; and perhaps Edmund avoided passing over her. Almost beI am disposed to think too well of almost the fore he had stopped his horse he leaped to the only one whom I have discovered to think like earth, and was in the next moment beside her, myself, not to feel some anxiety as to the result in the very midst of the huntsmen, who were were I to know that he might be exposed to such pressing eagerly and heedlessly forward. But danger." for his shouts, and the waving of his spear, some That the Lady Elfrida," replied Edmund, of the horses would almost certainly have "would feel anxiety on his account, might, me-galloped over Elfrida, who lay without sense or thinks, be spur enough to urge a duller spirit motion on the spot where she had fallen. than mine to encounter peril; and reward enough for almost any fate that might attend him. I dislike the chase, because I hate the oppression by the strong of the weak; but, where the hunted prey seems itself to be the stronger and the more terrible, then may the chase be held rather as a war for the weaker side against the stronger; and, in such a cause, I have been taxed with being but too apt to take fire." Sigifred did not so easily arrest his steed; and at the moment when he leaped down he perceived that the furious boar, whom the hounds had again headed and turned back, was rushing directly towards him. His first motion was to go to the aid of Elfrida, whom Edmund had just raised, and who, leaning upon his arm, was feebly climbing a mossy bank, crowned with thick bushes, that she might avoid the returning "Nevertheless, Sir Edmund," replied Elfrida, throng. He darted through an opening in the you cannot, without giving an offence, and in- copse, and found himself in a deep and narrow curring a suspicion, for which I should be sorry, path, or green alley, banked and edged thickly refuse to join my brother, who has, I must inform in on both sides. A few rapid steps brought him you, undertaken this day's sport, and selected to a turn in the path, and showed him that this particular animal, almost entirely for your Edmund had just lifted Elfrida from the bank, amusement; and we will, therefore, if you please, and was supporting her upon the gnarled root put on our horses; first begging you to under- of a dwarfish oak, which almost filled up the stand that, as I counsel you to take such part in narrow breadth of the green lane. The feeling the business of the day as may spare my brother that accompanied Sigifred's first glance was a and yourself any unpleasant after-feelings, so I joyful consciousness that she was at least in a earnostly hope that nothing which I have said place of security, out of the track of boar, dogs, may urge you to meet greater risk than your or horses; since, from the narrowness of the skill and experience may warrant you against. lane, the steepness of the banks on both sides, Guilty indeed should I hold myself if I thought and the position in which she sat, or rather rethat my rash counsel had brought evil upon any-clined, effectually stopping up the path, it one; and doubly guilty if that one were himself would have been impossible that she could have so loth to inflict evil upon others. Perhaps," escaped, had the terrible animal been driven in added she, with a smile, my remorse might be that direction. But this feeling was the sensastill the greater if that one were also he who has tion of a mere instant; and he had not taken shown himself so little loth to inflict somewhat one step towards Elfrida, when he heard a crash romantic compliments upon myself." of the underwood behind him, and beheld the boar, covered with blood and foam, and flashing fire from his eyes, rushing towards him. She touched her horse as she concluded those words, and set out at as great a speed as the nature of the way permitted. They had, however, a considerable distance to ride before they came up with the hunters; for the boar, a swift and heavy animal, had easily forced his way through the thick underwood, which the dogs found it more difficult to penetrate, and had again continued his flight after he had cleared the obstruction, so that the hounds had not yet been able to overtake and drive him back upon the hunters. The redoubled barking, however, which rose as Edmund and Elfrida drew nigh to the huntsmen, announced that the dogs were at last in the presence of their prey. A hideous yelling soon testified the reception which he was giving them; and his own deep and savage blurting was distinctly audible amid the uproar of hounds and men. A gentle ascent, covered with thick bushes, as yet, however, hid the scene from Edmund and his fair companion; but, immediately on their passing this obstruction, they found themselves in a more open part of the forest, and easily beheld the whole before them. The boar, encompassed by the dogs, was about three arrow-flights from them; and all appeared to be rushing in the direction where they stood. "Retire! retire! Lady Elfrida!" oried Edmund, There was not between him and the furious monster more than the space of one spear-cast: not a single hound had yet cleared the matted copse, through which the ponderous strength of the enraged brute had burst; and, though Sigifred might have leaped up the bank, and escaped the animal, by leaving open the path for him, he could only do so with the certainty of abandoning Elfrida to perish. Exclaiming, therefore, The boar! the boar! Sir Edmund, save my sister!" he planted himself in the centre of the path, and, firmly grasping his short thick spear, awaited the attack. 64 With a hideous blurting and gnashing of his tusks, the boar was almost instantly upon him. In the same moment, he heard the crash of his broken spear, and felt himself hurled with violence to the ground. He shrieked with horror, yet not for himself, but for his sister, left without protection, save that of one wholly unable, as he believed, to render it. He strove to rise that he might hasten towards her; but instantly sank again, and became conscious that he had received a severe wound in the right leg. In one glance, however, he saw that Elfrida had been removed, and was standing with a terrified look close to the bank, in a situation certainly more safe than before, but still liable to the most terrible injury, should the boar make a stroke with his tusks at her as he passed. Edmund, however, was nowhere visible; and Sigifred concluded that he had made his escape. Coward!" he cried, with the most bitter rage "nithing coward! I will kill him with my own hands!" But before the words were spoken, something seemed to flash before his eyes; he saw the boar fall-roll over and over-and finally lie motionless. At the same moment Edmund, with his sword drawn, leaped from behind a bush of brambles which hung down from the side of the bank, and sprang towards him, just in time to save him from being run over by the whole pack of dogs, who, having cleared the copse wood, were now in furious pursuit. "Are you much hurt ?" cried Edmund, hastily, to him. "Ask me no questions!" exclaimed Sigifred, fiercely. "You must answer to me for your cowardice: my sister might have perished-she may still perish-the boar will rise and rush upon her yet." "I think not," said Edmund, calmly, more especially as there are at the least a score of hounds tearing him to pieces. And the Lady Elfrida, I see, is coming towards you, apparently unhurt. Suffer me to assist you if you are resolved to rise; but I fear your injury is greater than you suppose." Sigifred, while he said this, was endeavouring to get up with the assistance of the broken spear handle, and would not permit Edmund to give him any help. "And if the Lady Elfrida is unhurt," said he, "small thanks to the coward who left her in peril of her life, that he might save his own!" "I know of no such person," answered Edmund, "and I believe that you will regret your mistake." 'Nithing dastard!" cried Sigifred, as he at length raised himself and stood upright, did you not yourself escape by climbing the bank, while you left my sister exposed to that horrible brute? Had he not so wonderfully fallen, and lain stunned as he did till the dogs came up, inevitably would he have destoyed her." "Sir Sigifred," answered Edmund, with the utmost difficulty mastering the anger that boiled within him, "you have addressed me in words that are held to be expiable by blood alone; and you know that I stand degraded if I do not pursue a quarrel so begun to the mortal extremity : but you speak in ignorance of the truth, and under an agitation that robs you of judgment and of self-control; you are also wounded, and in pain, and I must therefore bear with you. Listen, however, for a moment, and you will then, I think, regret the rash and discourteous manner in which you have demeaned yourself towards your guest. The Lady Elfrida's weakness and alarm made it impossible that she could have clambered the steep bank, even with all my assistance; and there was not an instant to lose. I placed her where I thought she would be least in danger, and flew on to assist you; I beheld you fall, but had no spear with which to imitate your bold attack-probably to meet with a similar ill-chance; my sword, however, was in my hand; and, in the hurry of the moment, I thought I should better effect my purpose by inflicting an unexpected blow as the boar passed by me than by openly confronting him with so inefficient a weapon. I leaped, therefore, behind a bush, which luckily hung over the bank, and screened me from his view, and in the instant that he shot by was fortunate enough to strike him. Had I attempted after your fall to return to the Lady Elfrida, he must undoubtedly have overtaken me, and the result might have been less favourable to her." "I see no blood upon your weapon," answered Sigifred; "nor did I ever know any man who could boast of having killed a wild boar by the single stroke of a sword. I will admit, however, that you have not deserved the ill-suspicion I entertained of you; and I crave, therefore, that you will endeavour to pardon the offensiveness of my language, spoken in a moment of mistake and fury; but I must yet say that, however fortunate the result may have been, you deserve, as a huntsman, great blame for having left your proper weapon behind you, to the imminent peril of your own life." "I dropped it," returned Edmund, "at the moment when I raised the Lady Elfrida from the ground; and you will, I think, admit that I had not time to fetch it." "I begin to think," replied Sigifred," that I have been extremely foolish in this business, if not a great deal worse; but here comes my sister, pale as a ghost, and she must be my mediator." Elfrida, who had been hitherto unable to make way through the throng of dogs and men, now came hastily up, and. laying her hand with a gentle pressure upon the arm of Edmund, said faintly to him, Thank you! thank you!" Edmund was amply repaid. Her anxious attention was then turned upon her brother, whose wound was bleeding freely, and whose looks were as ghost-like as her own. She compelled him to sit down, while, with part of the rich hood which she tore from her head, she firmly bandaged his wound. During this operation an explanation took place, which ended in a deep regret, on the part of Sigifred, that he had made so ungrateful a return to the preserver of his sister. Several of the huntsmen soon gathered round them, and in great surprise reported that the boar, though nobody knew by whom, appeared to have been killed by the blow of an axe, since its backbone was entirely cut through. Sigifred's apo. logies were now as vehement as his indignation had before been: and it appeared long afterwards as if the basis had been laid of an attachment on his part towards Edmund that could only end with life. CHAPTER XVII. Ir was two months before the wound of Sigifred was healed; and during this time Edmund was an esteemed guest at Castle Maximus. He rode occasionally to Cothelstone to see his friends there, but never remained more than one night with them. A frequent intercourse was speedily established between the younger members of the two families; and Ethelburga was twice permitted by Leofric to accompany Edmund to Castle Maximus, where she remained during some weeks, and secured the favour of the earl, and the love of all the rest of the family. The great wealth of Leofric was well known, and, although a meeting had never taken place betwixt him and the earl, yet the latter contemplated without disapprobation the probable result of this intimacy between his son and the only daughter of the thane. It was not, however, without surprise, and something of supercilious pity for what he deemed a foolish weakness, that he perceived how easily Edmund seemed disposed to yield to Sigifred the chance of obtaining the rich bride who, as he soon learned, had been commonly supposed to be designed for himself. Little did he know the true cause of Edmund's indifference to the advantage of a union with Ethelburga; little did he suspect, under the profound homage which the foolish orphan paid to the daughter of the earl, a burning and ever-increasing love, which deadened him to the attractions of all other women, and which was destined, eventually, to lift his aspirations to a height of ambition as unexpected as it would be deemed insolent and mad. Meantime, months passed on; the friendly intercourse between the families was gradually becoming more frequent and more close; and it was confidently predicted by every gossip within five miles of Čothelstone, that the earl would certainly be seen there in a very short time, to propose a marriage between his son and the daughter of Leofric. The earl, however, did not come; and great was the marvelling thereat, and many and profound were the conjectures to account for the delay, Edmund, during this interval, was increasing in knowledge, and perfecting himself in all the manly accomplishments of the time. He became in an uncommon degree dexterous in the use of every martial weapon; and his great strength and activity promised to render him a fearful opponent to almost any antagonist. His form and look became more manly; but the bloom had partly faded from his cheek, and his nsual expression was a pensiveness amounting almost to melancholy. Various conjectures were started by the domestics as to the cause of this change in him. Edmund, however, visited Castle Maximus, and when Sigifred returned afterwards for a few days with him, Oswulf saw that, whatever other passion might be at work within him, the flame of jealousy was wholly extinguished. Yet blacker thoughts then began to kindle in him. The health, or even the life, of his detested foe, became the object of his attack. To strike his limbs with palsy, or his mind with idlocy, by spell or incantation, he believed to be a possible, nay an easy, safe, and unsuspected furnish him with a philtro whose nature, as he said, was to cause madness. This the monster with the utmost caution contrived to mingle with the bowl of milk and wheaten bread of which Edmund was about to make his morning meal. But, though he thought himself alone, and secure from detection, he was fortunately beheld and suspected. Brother Elf, having, upon some business or other, made an early visit to the castle, had felt an inclination, not very unusual with him, to convert the pantry of the thane into a refectory for a monk. Now, Brother Elf was a little, thin, pale-faced man, but he had an appetite that would have made an alderman respected. Brother Elf, by the gradual movement of his head, had contrived to make every ray of light within the larder pass through a small crevice, and thence to his eye. Upon this was imprinted no human form save that of Oswulf. He beheld him mixing with a bowl of food a white powder which, after looking cautiously round, he had drawn from his pocket. Brother Elf retired on tiptoe. He had not so seldom frequented the same spot at the same hour as to be ignorant for whose meal the simple bowl of pottage was reserved. Now he loved Edmund for his sweet voice and his skill upon stringed instruments. Hasting therefore away, he procured an immediate interview with Edmund, detailed to him that which he had seen, and conjured him on no account to touch the dreadful bowl. Edmund as earnestly conjured him to keep the strictest silence upon the matter, and promised to be on his guard. With many thanks then he left him; and soon after with composure took his seat at the table where the family were now assembled for the morning meal. Brother Elf, who was much of a favourite with Leofric, had been invited to join them, and it will be taken for granted that he offered no objection. It was observed, however, that he looked pale, and was far less talkative than usual. Edmund, in the brief interval betwixt his conference with Brother Elf and his appearance at the meal, had procured the suspected bowl to be brought to him, and another exactly resembling it to be placed upon the table in its stead. Oswulf did not immediately appear; and Edmund, in expectation of him, deferred the commencement of his meal. He came at last; and Edmund remarked that at the moment of his entrance he cast a sidelong glance at him, and again, as he sat down, at the bowl. The fiendish look, and the deadly hue of his cheek and lip, told Edmund the black thoughts that were in his breast. With perfect calmness-speaking at intervals cheerfully to Ethelburga, who sat beside him-Edmund dipped into the bowl the silverrimmed spoon of buffalo-horn, and commenced his meal. Ever and anon he glanced a look at Oswulf, who feigned to be wholly occupied with his food. As he conveyed to his month the first morsel, he perceived that the sidelong glancing eye of Oswulf seemed to emit a dark fire, and that his deathly lips were affected with slight convulsive quiverings. As he went on, these disappeared, and a deep flush gathered over the face of the wretch; and around his now purpled lips played a grin of demoniac exultation, which Edmund almost expected to end in a burst of horrid laughter. His snake-like eyes, meantime, shot, ever and anon, their delighted glances toward the intended victim, and his whole countenance and manner expressed diabolical triumph. Edmund could scarcely contain his composure, as he became thoroughly convinced of the horrid intentions of Oswulf, and for a time remained in gloomy silence. Öswulf at length, with a tone of vulgar gaiety, arose from the table, and Edmund immediately followed to the door, and requested a little conversation with him. This somewhat surprised Oswulf, who at first surlily refused to go to the apartment that Edmund proposed for their conference. He went, however, on being further urged; and having reached the chamber, of which Edmund closed the door after them, fiercely demanded his business with him. Edmund replied by opening a cupboard and placing upon the table before Oswulf the poisoned bowl. Looking Oswulf full in the face, he pointed to this, but did not speak. There was a short silence, and the face of Oswulf grew pale. "Sir Oswulf," said Edmund, "your hands have tempered that food; dare you yourself partake of it ?" "Liar and beggar!" exclaimed Oswulf, "I know nothing of your accursed mess, and wish to know as little of you." "Sir Oswulf," replied Edmund, kindling at the look, and the coarse invective of his opponent, "the air and language of a bully will not Your efface the crime of meditated murder. hands have infused the poison in that bowl, and you deserve chastisement from mine, or from the rod of the law. Say that I go before Leofric, with the witness of your guilt in my hands, what think you will be your reward? But gladly would I hide from him, and from all men, the knowledge of this deed. Pledge me your oath before the altar that you will never again seek my life, and that which is passed shall be for ever buried in oblivion." During this speech the face of Oswulf became inflamed with the rage of a disappointed fiend; his eyes flashed fire, and the foam flew from his lips. "Thus be it buried then !" he exclaimed, and snatching out his sword, made a furious thrust at the breast of his enemy. The action was so rapid and unexpected, that Edmund had no time to draw his own weapon for defence. He so far parried the thrust, however, with his hand, that the blade, passing through the doublet, only just grazed his side. The violence of the rush forward brought Oswulf close to him, and Edmund instantly placed his hands against the villain's breast, and threw him back with such force that Oswulf seemed almost lifted from his feet, and without an attempt to save himself fell heavily backward upon the floor. Expecting a renewal of the assault, Edmund instantly drew out his sword, but his opponent lay motionless, and the weapon had dropped from his hand. Edmund was now alarmed and grieved. He sprang to Oswulf, raised his head from the ground, and began eagerly to chafe his temples. At that moment the door flew open, and Leofric, followed by Kentwina, entered. "What means this ?" cried Leofric. 'My son! my son!" shrieked Kentwina. "He is killed! he is killed!" "Answer me instantly, Edmund," said Leofric, in a peremptory tone. I see swords out, and my son is on the floor-perhaps dead." "He is not dead, my kind father," said Edmund, in great agitation. "He has had a severe fall. I cannot well explain to you how it arose, but he breathes now, and I trust is not much hurt. See! he opens his eyes-I thrust him from me, and he fell; but I could not help it-I merely defended myself." Oswulf was now recovering his senses, but when at length he attempted to rise, he found that his right arm was useless. A little examination proved that it was broken, and the distress of his parents and of Edmund became extreme. Oswulf was conveyed to bed, and the skill of Wiglaf the leech was put into immediate requisition. A close inquiry, which Leofric soon made of Edmund and Oswulf, separately, as to the origin and manner of the quarrel terminated rather unfavourably for the former. It had been remarked by Leofrie, and all present, that Edmund had followed Oswulf to the door of the breakfast apartment immediately after the meal; and the presumption was therefore that the dispute, whatever it might be, had arisen with him. The nature of this dispute, however, Leofric could not learn from either party. Oswulf dared not assign the true cause, and Edmund would not. While the former, however, complained of having received the grossest ill-treatment, without provocation on his part, and of having been at last struck down, merely because he upbraided Edmund for the injury that he was doing the whole family, by preventing an alliance with that of Castle Maximus, the latter declined saying more than that unpleasant words had arisen between them, and that, as Oswulf had thrust at him with his sword, he had in self-defence thrown him down. Leofric was sincerely attached to Edmund, and had never seen in him any conduct but such as was most honourable: there was, nevertheless, in the present instance an evident reservedness, a want of his usual candour and openness of speaking, which operated unfavourably for him upon the mind of the good thane: so that when Edmund, a few days after the quarrel, intimated to Leofric a wish to offer his personal services to the Earl of Somerset, in the contest which, according to the opinion of that nobleman, might be soon expected to arise betwixt the West Saxons and the Northmen under Hubbo, who had been for some time ravaging the southern coast of Wales, he met with an opposition to his project so cold as to his proud and sensitive mind to convey a real acquiescence. His resolution was immediately taken, and every preparation made by him for his departure. Leofrio's heart, however, yearned towards him, and, when he thought of losing the noble, generous, handsome, accomplished, and affectionate youth, for whom he had so long felt the love of a father, the tears came to his eyes; and he could not consent to part from him. Kentwina also FIRMLY GRASPING HIS SHORT THICK SPEAR, SIGIFRED AWAITED THE ATTACK. though, under the influence of parental love, and | ness of this pretended reconcilement, and he the fiendish insinuations of Oswulf, she had frequently and bitterly censured his conduct, when Ethelburga, or Father Cynewulf, or the good Brother Elf, had vindicated him-yet expressed regret to lose him thus. But the grief of the gentle Ethelburga was most poignant, and her face from the day when Edmund announced his intention to depart was never seen to smile. This excessive interest in his fate was, of course, a full and unanswerable evidence of the state of her heart: and the expectants of wedding-feasts, new coats, and beautiful kirtles, thought she ought to be ashamed of herself, and that it was high time for the house to be cleared of a fellow that had broken the brother's arm and the sister's heart, to say nothing of God's peace and the king's, which had never been kept two days in the place since he entered it. It was at length agreed that Edmund should not leave the castle, except in the event of an actual invasion. This arrangement seemed to diffuse joy through the little family. Even Oswulf feigned satisfaction, though he took care to conceal the grounds of it. Oswulf, therefore, affected to forgive the injury that he been done to him by Edmund, and expressed a hope that for the future they should be upon better terms together. Edmund's instinctive sagacity saw the hollow "Who trusts in him? Who adheres to him?" awaited to prove the result. Meantime, as he would the earl often say to those in whom he rehad not for some weeks visited Castle Maximus, posed confidence. "What has he done since he and was anxious to hear more of the state and came to the throne but estranged the love of his prospects of the country than he could learn at nobles, and temporized with the barbarians whom Cothelstone, and also to enjoy, what he could he ought to have extirpated? A good and pious nowhere else enjoy, the presence of the beauti- man he may be-and is-for who has ever ques ful and noble Elfrida, he mentioned to Leofrictioned that ? but are these times when a his wish, and on the following morning set monarch should throw down the sword and forth. take up the pen and the book, teach law to He had a kind reception from all; but found judges and divinity to abbots-and learning to a gloom and anxiety upon the countenances of the schools? Me myself, at my years, he would the earl and his son. That of Elfrida beamed have compelled to take up the quill, like a schoolupon him like a rich spring landscape when the boy! There is not a noble in the kingdom of sun comes forth. He found at Castle Maximus Wessex whom he has not insulted by his exhor. strangers who were frequently in close consultations and almost commands, to read from the tation with the earl; and he perceived that, in book, and to sign with the name instead of the many parts, the fortifications had been repaired cross, as our fathers did. But when the fierce and strengthened. The number of followers in Northman comes upon us, what then will avail the castle was also increased, and Sigifred or his book craft? When the sword has to fall the earl daily superintended their discipline. upon a Danish crest, will the steel, does he He soon learned that increasing apprehensions think, be the sharper that the hand which wields were entertained by the earl of the probable it can also guide the goose quill over the hide fate of the country, threatened, as he feared it of an ass? He has been ever preaching virtue to be, by the ferocious Hubbo, of whose atroci- and wisdom, when he ought to have been soundties he had obtained recent intelligence, disunited ing the trumpet and leading on his armies. A in itself, and under the rule of a monarch who, few pedant priests he may haply have pleased; in the opinion of the earl, and of some others, but he has alienated his nobles and lost his was totally unfit to be at the helm with such a country." storm uncalmed. [To be continued.] WATERSPOUTS. ONE of the most singular and least understood phenomena observed by those who go to sea in ships and traverse the great ocean is the waterspout. By some scientific observers the formation of the Waterspout is attributed to electricity; by others to the agency of the winds; by others, again, to some peculiar action of the tides. Waterspouts are generally seen at sea, though sometimes they appear in a modified form upon lakes and other smaller bodies of water; and even on land a similar configuration of clouds has Occasionally been noticed. The Whirlwind theory of Waterspouts is this: The winds meet from opposing quarters, and their mutual violence causes them to act and react upon each other, so that they travel round a common centre, neither current of air being sufficiently strong to overcome and pass the others. This whirling of the air causes a vacuum to be formed in the middle, and, according to the principle that "nature abhors a vacuum," the water or vapour from the clouds and that from the sea rash in to fill it, and remain united so long as the opposing forces in the air retain their balance of strength. BREAKING A WATERSPOUT. The first indication of the formation of a Waterspout observed by the seamen on board their ship consists of the gradual concentration and settling down of a mass of dark and heavy clouds over the sea, accompanied by great agitation of the water immediately beneath it. The mass of water soon begins to show a tendency to rise in a tumultuous heap towards the cloud, which in its turn evinces a tendency to descend to meet it. Both the rising wave and the descending cloud move together over the sea, whirling as they go, in a sort of waltz as fantastic as it is fearful and sublime. At length the ascending apex of the water and the descending apex of the cloud meet and join, the united mass drifting before the wind in the form of a vast spiral column, in which water and cloud are undistinguishably blended. The connection of electricity with the phenomenon is indicated by the fact that, at the moment when the upper and lower formations meet a flash of lightning is often seen to dart from one to the other, showing that the water and the cloud are in opposite electrical conditions at the moment before they unite. Besides this there are some experiments which may be made with electricity artificially excited, in which effects are produced which seem in a considerable degree analogous to those witnessed in this phenomenon-sufficiently so to increase the probability that the agency of electricity is in some way involved, though it is not known in precisely what manner or to what extent. Not the least singular of the things to be observed in respect to Waterspouts is the mode adopted by seamen for breaking and dispersing them, which is by shooting them, as it were, by guns or cannon. If the seamen find that the whirling column is drifting away from them, or moving in such a direction as not to cross the track of the ship, they leave it usually to finish its dance as it pleases. But if they find it coming toward them, they train all the guns upon it that they can muster, under the idea that either the impact of the shot or the concussion of the air will break the charm, and make it burst and disappear like a touched bubble. The consequence of allowing it to move on of its own accord will be the risk of it bursting when it should come into contact with the ship and would probably be fatal to all on board, cause the vessel to be deluged, and perhaps sinking or foundering her. Many noble ships have been thus destroyed. In November, 1856, no fewer than five ships were wrecked by waterspouts in the Bay of Tunis; and in 1864 a large waterspout was observed close to our own shores, in the channel, off Brighton. Waterspouts-great collections of vapourare, as we have already stated, frequently observed on land. The following, from the "Book of Dates," gives some idea of their frequency and effects: A land Waterspout burst in Lancashire in 1718, and caused considerable damage. Another, nt Brackenthwaite, in Cumberland, September 9th, 1700, tore away the gravel and soil from a field. A great Waterspout descended upon Dungavell Hill, in Scotland, July 2nd, 1768, and made an opening about twenty-four yards broad and three feet deep. A similar phenomenon occurred at Clapham Common during a violent thunderstorm, June 18th, 1782; and at Ramsgate, where it flooded several cellars to the depth of four feet, July 14th, 1798. One burst over the Wheal Abraham and Creuve mines, in Cornwall, in November, 1806, and choked up the shaft, causing the death of several miners, and considerable destruction of property. Another, consisting of a torrent of water nearly six feet in diameter, descended upon the town of Silkstone, in Yorkshire, May 9th, 1807, and several of the inhabitants were drowned. A waterspout of very destructive character overwhelmed the village of Kingscourt, county Cavan, Ireland, September, 12th, 1838. SAFETY IN THUNDER-STORMS. BY EDWARD E. QUIMBY. THE safest place in a thunder-storm is the interior of an iron building, or of a house well provided with lightning-rods. As to what meets the latter condition it is sufficient to say that the application of lightning-rods is a matter demanding the exercise of expert knowledge and judgment, and intelligent apprehension of the laws of electricity. Experience has shown that it is not safe to trust to an ignorant person the decision as to the quantity and location or arrangement of lightning-rods for any building whatever. Under ordinary circumstances, in a house without any rods, or with rods improperly adjusted, the safest position is a horizontal one, in the middle of a room, upon a feather bed elevated above the floor. An iron bedstead, however, furnishes a perfectly safe position, and a wooden bedstead may be made a safe place of refuge by attaching metallic wires to the corner posts, and connecting them all together by other wires running from one to the other around the bed. In these circumstances, a discharge of lightning is provided with an easy path in any direction, either vertical or horizontal, and no injury can ensue to a person lying upon such & bedstead. Number nine annealed iron wire, or a smaller copper or brass wire, may be conveniently and effectually used in this way; or strips of sheetmetal may be tacked on. Nails, bell-wires, stove fannels, and other metals in buildings present an interrupted path for lightning. It is especially dangerous, therefore, to assume a position between two detached lines or masses of conducting matter. For example, a person has been killed by lightning while seated in a chair with his head leaning against a bell-knob; in another instance, a man was killed by a discharge of lightning, which passed from a so-called lightning-rod on the outside of the wall to the quicksilver on the back of a mirror, in front of which he was standing; thence through him to the floor, and to a stove-pipe in the next lower story. Positions near windows, doors, and fireplaces are to be avoided as particularly dangerous. Out of doors the safest position is flat upon the ground, away from any tree or other elevated object. Thoroughly wet clothing is a partial conductor, and gives increased security to the wearer. SAXILBY MANOR. CHAPTER XII. THE distant chimes of their native village church struck out faintly in the distance as the coach neared Grassdale, and presently the old ivy-covered tower disclosed itself to view. A turn of the road showed them the churchyard, and Mildred asked Jonas to point out her parents' graves while she yet gazed upon the spot. Jonas indicated the place as nearly as he could, and, as he did so, he caught sight of the tombstones that marked the last resting places of his own father and mother. He started and trembled as they met his glance, for he knew he was bound on an errand of evil. He felt relieved when they had passed the sacred ground, and the coach neared the village. He directed the coachman to set them down as near as possible to Goody Hobbs's cottage, and leave Miidred's luggage at the Ash Tree Inn till called for. The coach stopped with them near the village green; there were no stragglers or gossips about, for the night was threatening rain, and growing stormy. Mildred covered the child carefully with her cloak, and in a few moments they reached the cottage of old Goody, who received them with a hearty welcome, and took a liking to the child at first sight. "Thou art like thy father, and thy mother, too," said the old woman, as she caressed the infant within her arms. What be the dear little soul's name?" "Matthew," answered Mildred. "Why that was the name of a son of mine who died when he was about this child's age. I shall like the babe all the better for that." Mildred saw by the old woman's manner that her child would be well cared for, and that somewhat lightened the pang that she felt in parting with it. "The coach is late coming in to-night, bean't it ?" inquired Goody. "I fancy so," replied Jonas. "I passed by the Ash Tree, and a carriage had been waiting for you some time, to take you up to the Hall." "Indeed!" said Mildred. "How strange they'll think it of me not to have got down there. They may go back and say I've not arrived." "So they may, Mildred. You'd better go at once," urged Jonas. "Perhaps I had. But how shall I account for being out of the way?" asked she. "You must say the coachman made a mistake and put you down at the wrong place," replied Jonas; and mind, above all things, you don't say you've been here. They must never know of your visits to our child, but be led to suppose you've left it behind you in London-you must mind that above all things." And he grasped her arm eagerly as he spoke, as if to impress the caution securely in her mind. It had already been arranged between Jonas and Mildred that Jonas should return to London the next morning, and wait until he received a letter from her, telling him how she liked her new position, and all particulars. A sharp pang pierced Mildred's heart as she fervently embraced her child, and, for the first time since it had been born, confided it to another's care. Jonas had to use all his persuasive powers to restore Mildred's calmness. He vowed, if she did not like the situation, she should not remain in it, but return to London with her child, and trust to Jonas procuring employment as he best could. This assurance somewhat comforted poor Mildred; but how wretched would she have been had she known that Jonas was weaving a dark web of deceit, and did not mean one word of what he uttered. They took a hurried farewell of each other, and Mildred made the best of her way to the Ash Tree Inn. Luckily, the carriage which Sir Michael had sent for her had not departed. The coachman found himself too comfortable in the company he had met there to think of leaving in a hurry. Mildred inquired for Grogram, the landlord, who was amazed to see her once again in Grass dale. He had heard that a new servant had been hired in London to attend upon the squire's child, but little dreamed it was Mildred, one of their neighbours, who had been born and reared in the village. Mildred made the best story she could about not being set down at the Ash Tree, and was conducted into the bar parlour by Grogram, who summoned his wife to show her who it was that was going to be the young squire's nurse. "You never mean to say it's Mildred Thornley that I knew from a baby ?" said the hostess, bustling into the room. Aye, but it is, though," replied Grogram. "Look at her! Hasn't she grown into as fine a woman as one would wish to see ?" "She has, indeed! And so you've been to foreign parts, I hear, and met with a good service-eh, my girl ?" "Yes," answered Mildred. "I've travelled many miles since I last left Grassdale." "How mortal sorry we all were when your poor old father and mother died, and nobody could find you." "Don't speak of them now-pray don't!" implored Mildred. "It will so upset me before I go up to the Hall, and see Sir Michael, that I sha'n't know what I'm doing. I feel wretched and unworthy at being away from them in their last moments; but how could I help it ?" "How, indeed!" said Mrs. Grogram. "You would have come if you had known it; but, as you didn't, you couldn't." This homely piece of philosophy seemed somewhat to comfort Mildred. It proved to her that folks didn't think her unfeeling and hardhearted,. and knew circumstances kept her away, not inclination. Diggs, the sexton, happened to be in the smoking-room, with Flint, the exciseman, and our old acquaintance, Dobbins, the constable; they all welcomed her back to Grassdale, little thinking she was the wife of Jonas Fletcher, who had suffered two years' imprisonment for being concerned in the poaching affray; but nobody spoke of him, and it was better that they did not, or Mildred might have heard what Jonas so dreaded her becoming acquainted with-the story of his disgrace. The coachman, who had been sent for her from the Hall, now put in an appearance, urging their departure for the Manor House, and saying Sir Michael would be anxious for his return with the new nurse, as the baronet's child was far from thriving. Mildred bade all her friends good night, stepped into the carriage that was waiting at the inn door, and was driven to the Manor House. The night had grown dark and stormy, the wind howled round the old mansion; the trees on each side of the avenue that led up to the Hall door seemed to groan as if with remorse as the carriage passed beneath them; the owls hooted from the turrets, and the bats dashed against the windows of the vehicle as though they would have retarded its progress. The coach drew up to the flight of steps before the principal entrance to the mansion. A servant in livery opened the carriage door, and requested Mildred to follow him. As she did so a loud peal of thunder seemed to shake the ancient pile to its very foundation, and a heavy shower of rain beat against the windows as she gained the interior of the hall. "A rough welcome, this," thought Mildred, as she followed the domestic to where he was leading her. They ascended the broad staircase that led to the first range of rooms, and the servant knocking at an oaken door in the gallery, a stern voice from within bade him enter; the man soon returned, and told Mildred that Sir Michael would see her at once. Mildred passed into the room, and was left alone with the baronet. His eyes met hers with a piercing gaze, as though he would have looked into her very soul, and he started, as he mentally exclaimed: "By Jove! this is the prettiest girl I've seen for many a day!" Mildred had heard many instances of Sir Michael's cruelty and oppression, and though she had no knowledge of physiognomy, could read the man's character in his face. There were the thin, bloodless lips, the sharp, aquiline nose, the small, deep-set, piercing black eyes, surmounted by shaggy and beetling brows, and the deep furrows of strong passions marked his forehead, telling of an iron will and unrelenting soul. "You are welcome, young woman," said the baronet, and, as he spoke, he rose and took her hand, and kept it in his rather longer than she thought necessary. Mildred dropped a curtsey, withdrew her hand, and thanked him. He then questioned her about her husband, inquiring his age, prospects, and business. She had been well schooled by Jonas on all these points, and was prepared with feasible answers. Sir Michael seemed thoroughly satisfied, said that he appreciated Lady Dacre's recommendation, and proceeded to tell Mildred what was expected of her. The child was never to be entrusted to the care of anyone but herself. It was, he told her, the only joy of his life-the sole heir to his name and estates. If any ill happened to the boy it would be a death blow to him. It's present nurse, |