that form must be our souls' growth, if we have any power of growth in us."

"A soul-growth is it, my dear?" I replied, obstinately; "I can tell you that one of the severest purgatories which can be inflicted on a proud spirit is the acceptance of this triangular necessity,' as you call it. You are right, however; my own experience has proved it, for I have often seen myself doing quietly, and sometimes even with a strange sense of willingness, the very things I had fought furiously against in the beginning; but I have never yielded without a keen sense of mortification."

They laughed, and Janet said she fancied, if the truth were known, this confession I had just made had been one of these purgatories to me. Gradually we shifted our talk to other and gayer subjects, and before parting for the night had some very merry laughs. They are both asleep now, and I am sitting on the quarter-deck alone. It is nearly three o'clock in the morning. The weather has changed and grown chilly. Dark clouds hang around the horizon, and a fitful, angry wind is beginning to agitate the sea.

The man on watch shivers, walks up and down the deck, and looks inquiringly around on the sky. He has gone down now to the captain, and I hear them talking earnestly in low voices. The captain is preparing to

come up on deck. I will close my book, and look out hopefully toward the west as I go once more to sleep upon the treacherous sea.

se

Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.