Let us take for another example of the daily domestic romance

THE STRANGE CAT.

How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! Our elder brother and "the boy" had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail! Not" frightened of cats" were we, for we had a favourite one of our own; but this—it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Exeter Change. Their own fears had magnified the "strange cat" into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify us-a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the " young master" and the "young man" marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder— the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror! A loud knocking was heard above; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of "Here it comes!" This was, shall we say enough?—it was too much; we turned and flew down-stairs-the last "flight" of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairsa clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then? Not a poor half-starved frightened animal leaping over the banisters to get out of our way, and to escape through the garden-door; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing,-but in its place-this!

in

an agony

This little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized Newfoundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see.

A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE.

BEING at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "THE OLD SAILOR," down to the "Jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired "Will you take a trip this morning, Sir ?"

"Not if it blows," answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, "I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind."

The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could-" Here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind."

"It would be on possible to move a-head and no breeze, Sir."

"I don't care for that," rejoined the Old Sailor, "I am very timid on the water; but if you're sure there's no danger, and it will be quite calm (it was nearly so), I will venture to take a sail."

"Danger!" repeated the veteran somewhat contemptuously, though there was an expression of doubt and suspicion on his countenance that seemed to say "I think you're a gammoning me.' "What danger can there be when there's hardly wind enough to fill the canvas?"

After some further conversation relative to the perils of the ocean, which drew forth some scornful glances from the veteran, we embarked in a pretty green boat, with two masts or poles, one sticking up behind and the other near the middle, to which sails were fastened. Whilst Hemptage was loosing what we believe is named the main-sail, the Old Sailor jumped aft to set what he called the "lug mizen," and he was shoving out a pole from the stern, right over the water. We immediately informed the boatman that our companion was "meddling with the things at the other end," and the veteran promptly turned round and exclaimed, "You'd better let that ere alone, Sir. You'll find somut as 'ull puzzle you there."

"Avast, old boy!" returned the Old Sailor, laughing; "I've rigged out as many bumkins* as you have in my time."

*The bumkin is the spar that projects out from the stern to haul the mizen-sheet home.-Naval Dictionary. Here, however, it is probable that a double entendre was

meant.