rary absence, was changed from black to red, then taken away and eaten. He was a luxury in those parts, although Great-heart said that some misinformed traveller had recently written that the fish was plentiful there. Their friend the porter lived in this cottage, in fact he stood at the door as they passed, smiling upon them and smoking peacefully. Probably he thought he had done enough work for that day.

Some of the houses in this street, also in one that led out of it northwards, were very pretty, and everywhere were lots of creepers and bright flowers to be seen.

Most of them were let, it seemed, to people with families for the summer months, a few belonged to residents, others to the more well-to-do tradespeople; one and all were neatly kept and orderly. The three stopped some time to admire the attractions of this High Street.

Trixie's verdict was that it was all "very nice and quiet, but must be extremely dull, especially in winter." Dot thought that "those tired of the turmoil of city life, either of business or pleasure, must feel it a great relief to know of such a place to come to. She was only so sorry that people were, as her friend had told them, trying so hard to deprive it of its seclusion."

"Yes," mused the man thoughtfully, "it is indeed

a pity. Once I knew it as the most primitive of spots, but now regretfully do I see these signs of too much life appearing. Truly, some of its oldfashioned ways remain to it, as its Town Hall, for instance, some of its older institutions, as its bathing and postal arrangements. The post office, as you are aware, is a baker's, and either the man or his little girl (you may now see her yonder) go round with the packets themselves. This custom you would not find lingering in many places. Yet I note many changes for the worse. I much fear that another short year may bring it within the term of a 'rising' watering-place. If so, that, to me, as no doubt others too, will sound but as the death-knell to its old familiar self. Then good-bye for ever to its former peace and solitude. Shall we walk on, children? There is not much more to explore."

It seemed so, indeed; for turning round they saw the sea again in the distance, at the end of a lane which, strewn with pebbles, was very unpleasant walking. But there were some charming residences there, nevertheless; one in particular, a low onestoried house, with roses and creepers clinging fondly to it. A little way off, in front of this, stood a great red-brick block, which had for its kindly object that of a Home for poor and sick people from crowded They came down here for a month,

towns or cities.

and often got quite set up by the sea-breezes. Whilst they looked at this Home, an incident occurred in connection with it. An old lady, evidently an inmate, hobbled up to Great-heart, and with her crutch extended in the direction of the House, put the short query of: "The 'ome? The 'ome?" in very excited accents. and in a great hurry. No doubt she had not been long enough in the place to recognize it at a distance. They put her in the right road and then walked on themselves.

She was quite out of breath

Next to the low-storied dwelling, built modestly in its shadow and shrinking nervously back sideways from the lane, they found a very funny little cottage, everything small and neat about it. The little green gate you could step over, the garden you could jump across, in at the tiny sitting-room window; the little door, the little shiny knocker, the trim little maid watering the clump-like shrubs, the little stable that certainly could not have lodged more than a Shetland pony and a goat-chaise comfortably. All about this modest cottage spoke of rest and repose. Great-heart said he knew the worthy couple that had lived there for many, many years. Good, kind, unostentatious people they were, passing their harmless, uneventful lives from year's end to year's end in that quiet nook, varied only by

an occasional visit to a friend in the "'op district," as they called it. He asked the maid as to the state of the good folks' health. She said, “Master” was well, but "hout," and "missus in, but still only middlin',” for which Great-heart was sorry. He left a card and his remembrances for both.

There was a fine house a little farther on, built by a lady who was very fond of this sea-side place, and spent a great deal of her time at it. It was by far the largest residence they had seen, very handsome and of quite a novel style of architecture. But it seemed the house gave a great deal of trouble, the lady being perpetually at war with wind and water on its behalf. They sometimes defied all her devices to combat them, for both, it seems, were given to be very unruly down there at times, the wind to come up in gusts and play sad havoc with the chimney-pots and wood-work, the rain to descend in such torrents as to laugh at all human attempts to keep it out. The consequence was that this noble place was hardly ever free from workpeople, hanging about it in many perilous positions, and vexing this kind lady's spirit sorely. The sea in those parts, too, had a very impolite way of "encroaching" at particular seasons, without giving due notice of its intentions. (If another, and more modern, King Canute had risen up, and there really could be anything of truth

in what those silly courtiers of his tried to flatter him with, how useful would he have been to that little place.) To preserve her property, the owner had, therefore, to surround herself with an enormous wall of stone, which, though no doubt of great service, was anything but ornamental. Great-heart said there was such a pretty garden, with a capital gymnasium also, and all sorts of other amusements; but they could see nothing from the road, which disappointed the children sadly. They had now almost made the circuit of the place, for this wall might be called its eastern boundary. Before them was a stretch of marsh land, which it seemed impossible could ever be flooded by that sea which lay so calm and peaceful in front of it; but it was, often. Sloping upward on their left was a fresh green hill called a mountain, with a pole on its summit. This hill stood out clear and beautiful against the sunlit sky.

Turning to the right along the shore, they found a good many neat, detached villa residences; the "New" (or rather old) Inn they had proposed stopping at, but were glad they had not; one melancholy row of four houses all as like as two peas, with green verandahs to their first floors, two let out as lodgings, two belonging to residents; and a few tumbleddown cottages, evidently suffering from some recent