had occurred the boat neared the shore, and in a short time the boys were with their friends again. You may easily suppose that there was great rejoicing over Cecil's escape; and they were so glad to get him back safe and sound, that nobody scolded him for having gone to play on the beach without leave. In fact, his papa and mamma thought he had had such a severe lesson in the ogre's cave that it would be rather hard to scold him under the circumstances, and they hoped he would profit by the experience he had undergone without their saying anything more about it. Kate and Eva, however, were full of questions, and made him tell them the whole story half-a-dozen times over; and Eva drew funny pictures of Dame Mince-'em-all sticking in the window, and the crabs lying helplessly on their backs. From this day forward, however, Cecil was an altered boy. He paid attention to what was said to him, never went off alone to play by himself without leave, and was so much improved in his general behaviour that everybody was pleased. As to Jack Browning, there was never such a change seen in mortal boy. Sunday or week-day, thenceforth he never even so much as looked at a bird's nest, or dreamed of trespassing in search of eggs. Twice to church did he regularly trudge in all weathers, and became so remarkable for his punctuality and attention, that upon the death of the old clerk he was unanimously elected to take his place. There he remains to this day, and woe betide the parish school-boy who fidgets in church or dares to go to sleep in the sermon-time when Jack Browning's eye is upon him. Still his past misfortunes have made him kind and gentle to all, and the only instance of harshness related of him is with regard to two mischievous young rascals

whom he caught jackdawing in Barracks wood one Sunday afternoon, to whom he administered so terrible a thrashing that they never ventured to appear there again till next time. So now I have told you all that I have ever heard about Cecil's adventures and the ogre's cave. Perhaps you will want to know what became of the crabs. Well, I really don't know; and when I was last in that neighbourhood, and questioned a highly respectable lobster about the traditions of the coast, thinking I might gather some news on this particular point, he replied that he knew nothing either, and that in fact he had always considered crabs as low and disreputable creatures, about whom the less said the better. So I gave the matter up in despair, and inquired no further. There is the story for you as far as I know it, and if you want to know any more you must go down to the shore yourselves and ask the mermaids. Perhaps they will answer you in their sweet and tender strains, and tell you all you want to know. Perhaps not. But anyhow you will hear the murmur of the waves as they break for ever and for ever upon that lonely shore; and you stand close down by them, and look out over the sea, and think and listen and try to understand what they say, you will learn and know that they are ever speaking of the Might of Him who made both them and you, and reminding you that Time is creeping on and on as steadily and as certainly as they are breaking, wave after wave, at your feet, and that every hour is bringing you nearer and nearer to the moment when the things of the present will end for you, and the wonderful future will begin; when, if you have loved and honoured Him in the hours of time, He will not fail to love and cherish you in the ages of eternity.

if

47

II.

THE HISTORY OF A RABBIT.

I was born of honest and respectable parents, wellto-do rabbits in the great warren in Hatch Park, which, in those happy days, was generally known as 'the sand-pit,' an ancient and honourable name, which, for aught I know, still belongs to the dear old place. I can remember the sand-pit when there were not a great many rabbit-holes in it, forty or fifty at most, and only a fair quantity of our race, mostly relations, lived in it. I believe that now the place is a perfect honeycomb; hundreds upon hundreds of holes there are, from one end of it to the other, and all along the bottom of the park and in the beech plantation; and hundreds upon hundreds of merry rabbits live there as gay and as happy as I used to be in those early days. I have said that my parents were respectable, and I was brought up as well as any young rabbit in the place. Very early in life I learned the mystery of scratching a hole in the sand, and of making a pop-hole, so as to be able to slip out easily upon the approach of an enemy. was also instructed in the art of nibbling off the green

shoots of the corn as they came up out of the ground, and of biting carefully round the tender ash plants whenever I had a chance of doing so. I could gambol, jump, and run with any rabbit in the place; and I well remember how I used to think and feel that I had the whole world before me, and that nothing was ever likely to go wrong with such a healthy, sprightly young rabbit as I was. I have lived to discover my mistake, but I thought so in those old days, and I dare say I was all the happier for it. But I must not forget to tell you about my Idear little brothers and sisters. There were six of us, and a happy family we were. There had been seven, but one got accidentally smothered in his infancy, and he was never mentioned among us. The six of us who grew up and played together were Soft-skin, Tina, and Pussy, the girls; Fatty, Jollyboy, and Bunny, the boys. I was Bunny, and my two brothers and I rather lorded it over our sisters, I think, as boys sometimes will do, till time and absence from home teach them that sisters are things which people and rabbits can't be too fond of or too tender with, and that it is a great blessing to have them. They were gentle little things, my darling sisters. Softskin was so called because her dear little brown skin was as soft and smooth as velvet; Tina had white fore-feet, and a white spot on her breast; and Pussy was a lively, skittish little rabbit, the plaything and pet of the whole family. What games we had in that old sand-pit! Many and many a time, on a lovely summer's night, have we raced round and round the place, one after the other, dodging each other among the holes right merrily, squeaking with pleasure and excitement, with no thought of sorrow and no care for the future.

Many a time have we watched the keeper from a distance, as he crept nearer and nearer to the sand-pit, intending to secure a victim for his supper from amongst our merry crew. We would let him creep and creep until he got within a hundred yards or so, and then some old rabbit would give a violent stamp on the ground, as a signal for us all to know that danger was near, and down into our holes we all scrambled as fast as we could. Sometimes one of us, rather bolder than the rest, would only go a little way into the hole, keeping his head just above-ground until the keeper was almost near enough to shoot; then the head would go lower and lower, till only his ears were to be seen, and finally he would disappear altogether, just as the enemy was hesitating whether he should shoot at the ears on the chance of killing his victim by a stray shot. We seven were so well taught that we never trifled with danger like this, but were always off as fast as possible when we heard the first warning stamp of the friendly old rabbit. Then sometimes, late in the evenings, a company of us would go down together to the park fence, which was only a couple of hundred yards from the sand-pit, and creep under it into the fields beyond, where we could forage for fresh green food, and come back all the better for our journey. At last, however, I regret to say, the horrid men took to putting wire all along the fence, so that no rabbit could get through it, which was a great nuisance, and most unfair into the bargain, for why should the fields and the green crops belong more to men than to rabbits? I am sure we enjoy them quite as much as they do, and have every bit as much right as they have to our food and amusement. But it