Christmas Day we had an extra feast. The preserved salmon came in aid of the roast pork and plum-pudding, and some excellent claret was added to the usual vinous accompaniment. We dined at three o'clock. The weather was beautiful; all sail was set, and we were congratulating ourselves upon so propitious a double' of the terrible Cape of Storms. The captain had made liberal distribution of extra grog, and all went merrily. By five o'clock we had indulged in so many cheerful libations, and were, in fact, so very jolly, that we did not perceive that the wind had dropped to a calm; neither were we very sensible of a sudden change in the motion of the vessel until a heavy lurch to larboard sent bottles and glasses on to the deck of the cuddy. The captain looked up at the barometer over his head, turned deadly pale, and staggered out on to the quarter-deck. Mr. Smith was asleep on the poop; the crew, with the exception of one sick man, were drunk and quarrelling. The position was perilous in the extreme. Crack! and the main-royal with its yard and sail flapped against the top-gallant. The captain staggered to the halyards and called out, as loud as he could, 'Let go everything!' The wind became fiercer each moment; the jib was torn to shreds; the mizen-royal went; the vessel was almost on her beam ends. I rushed out, and aided the captain in 'letting go,' and went among the ship's company, to urge them to reef and furl and get down the shattered masts-all to no purpose. Only one or two were sufficiently in their senses to make an effort to do their duty. I jumped upon the poop, and shook Smith out of his lethargy. He stared, bewildered for some moments; and when he seemed to realise the condition of things, he began to bawl and use his whistle (for he was bos'n as well as mate), and wondered that no notice was taken of it. The sea had now risen considerably, and every now and then heavy seas dashed against the Nancy Lee,' or swept clean over her. By great efforts the letting go' had been accomplished, and every yard being loosened, the sails flopped about tremendously, breaking from their lifts and braces. The man at the helm, who ought to have been relieved two hours previously, now declared he could hold on no longer-the pressure upon the rudder was beyond his powers. He called for some comrade to take his place; he was unheeded.

So, in his desperation, he made the wheel fast, and went forward-only to drink his share of the liquor, which had been put into his keg for him. The captain was frenzied-he stamped, swore, prayed, invoked, ordered-all to no purpose. Out of a crew of fourteen, only four persons, myself included, were fit to do anything. The elements took advantage of our helplessness, and made terrible havoc with everything on and above deck. Happily, the hatches were hermetically closed, to protect the cargo. The foretopmast, unable to bear the strain, now went, and in its fall killed a sailor, who bore the rather inappropriate soubriquet of Happy Jack." The men became frantic. One went up aloft to cut loose the main-royal, which still hung by some cordage to the lower stem. He got up with difficulty, and effected his purpose. The mast fell on the deck, and struck Mr. Smith; he staggered towards the gangway, and fell overboard. I screamed with affright and rushed to the side. A rope that hung below the main-chains had caught him as the vessel heeled over; but, instead of proving his salvation it aided his destruction, for I saw his poor body swinging to and fro, striking the ship's side with force enough to kill him if he had ten lives. To shorten the story, the gale slackened at midnight, and a dead calm rapidly ensued. We had then nothing but the rolling of the helpless ship to trouble us. But to what a miserable wreck was the full moon witness! If the awful struggle had sobered all hands, it was only to make them wish themselves drunk, for none could contemplate the frightful wreck which had resulted from the common indulgence without remorse. Every effort was now made to repair damages, but although two months more elapsed before we entered the Mersey, our condition was so dilapidated, that, in spite of the efforts made by the old skipper to tell a good story to his owners, they mulet him and the crew of all that was due, and resolved that, in future, no more such merry Christmases' should be passed by poor M'Culloch in their service. He died a brokenhearted mariner, laying Smith's death to his own soul, and declaring that nothing on earth could enumerate' him for what he suffered. His long, hard life at sea had not manured' him to disasters which involved the lives of his shipmates.

S.

man

was Johnson-one who never troubled himself about other folks' affairs, nor suffered others to busy themselves about his own. Not that there was any want of politeness in his manner, or anything rude or offensive in his reserve. He would chat in the most familiar way upon topics of general conversation; and his regular fellowpassengers by the morning steamboat considered him a remarkably pleasant fellow. Punctually, at a certain hour every morning, would Johnson embark at Lambeth Pier on the penny boat for London Bridge; and during the voyage he would, as we have said, converse in the most friendly fashion with the little knot of acquaintances on board-men who, punctual as himself, travelled every morning by the same conveyance, and so had almost come to know each other.

But only upon general matters would he so converse. However others might talk of their several business affairs, Johnson never alluded to his own; nor ever dropped the slightest hint that would indicate the branch of commerce in which he was engaged. Arrived at London Bridge, he would bid his fellowpassengers good morning; and then disappearing into one of the numerous narrow, tortuous streets that lead up from the river to the Bank, would be seen by them no more until they met again on board the boat the following morning.

Nor were his own immediate neighbours any more enlightened as to Johnson's business. Johnson was no recluse, avoiding the society of his fellow-men. On the contrary, the same agreeable companion that he was on board the penny boat in the morning, he also was among his neighbours when he returned from business in the evening. Johnson resided in a small, but thoroughly 'genteel' street, not far from the Westminster Road, and in close proximity to

those Buildings' which, for some inscrutable reason or other, are associated with the name of Hercules. In the undoubtedly 'genteel' parlour, of the decidedly genteel' tavern at the corner of the street, Johnson would every evening enjoy the society of a most select gathering of the neighbouring tradesmen. Here, he would every evening arrive with the same punctuality that marked his appearance in the morning on the pier; would go straight to his regular seat in one particular corner of the room; would smoke one pipe, and drink one glass of the very mildest ale, and precisely as the clock struck ten take his departure. Still, even here his companions knew nothing more of Johnson than that he paid his way regularly, and was something in the City.' The nearest approach that had ever been made to an attempt to question Johnson upon business matters was made one evening by the landlord. A temporary lull in the conversation having occurred, the landlord turned abruptly to him, and asked

'How are things in the City, sir, today?'

Johnson replied, briefly, that he believed money was somewhat tighter; and that the Bank of England had raised the minimum rate of discount; and then, although it wanted full twenty minutes of his usual time, he left the

room.

You know he don't like talking shop,' remonstrated the butcher from next door.

The baker from round the corner thought it was very odd he never could be got to say what he was; but, for his own part, he fancied Johnson must be * something on the Stock Exchange.'

The landlord suggested he might be 'something in some bank or other;' and so the matter was left.

Even the few intimate friends who visited at Johnson's house knew very little more. Mrs. Johnson did now and then have a few neighbours in to tea; and occasionally went out to tea herself; but the utmost anybody had ever learned from her, even in her most confidential moments, was that Johnson was engaged in getting up a company in the City; and, until it was all settled, he didn't care to talk about it. As to what the company was to be, she really scarce knew herself, for she never liked to interfere in business matters.

In saying this, poor little Mrs. Johnson scarcely exaggerated her own ignorance. Her husband had, of course, informed her of the name of the company with which he was connected; and she

knew it had something to do with sugar. But what his precise position in connection with it was she was unaware. Once or twice, when she happened to be going into the neighbourhood of the City, she had proposed that she should call at the office and accompany him home. This, however, he invariably opposed. He had no idea, he said, of women interfering with business. As for a woman fetching her husband from his office, it was perfectly ridiculous. He would not hear of it. He must request of her never to intrude upon his business hours at the office.

His wife-they were, as yet, only in their second year of wedlock, and wives (at first) are apt to place implicit faith in the superior judgment of their lords and masters-supposed he must be right. Possibly her presence at his office might distract his thoughts from business. Possibly, too, affairs were not over flourishing just now with his company, and he would not like her to be witness of any difficulties he might have to contend with. The housekeeping money he supplied her with, though regular as the sun itself in its coming, could hardly be called plentiful. His business obviously was not as yet a flourishing one. Probably at his office he had to undergo worse difficulties than they had at home, and he would rather spare her the spectacle of his hard struggles. At any rate, he did not wish to see her at his place of business; that was enough for her-the more especially as she found herself quite sufficiently occupied with Baby, who was now beginning to take notice, in a way that was really wonderful for his age.'

So Johnson's office in the City remained a terra incognita to his good little wife.

And now, shall we be deemed guilty of taking an undue advantage of the author's privilege of peeping behind the scenes of knowing all about the thoughts and motives of the characters -if we divulge the secret which Johnson kept so assiduously from his nearest friends, even, in a great measure, from his own wife? The truth may as well come out at once. Johnson had a weakness-a perdonable one, perhaps some would call it; while others would pronounce it despicable-at any rate, he had a weakness. He did not care that his acquaintances, or even this loving little wife of his, should know how very humble was his real position. He had first met her three seasons ago at Brighton, where he had chanced to go by an excursion train, at a time when

his prospects were decidedly better than at present. He had then made no secret of his position in life-which was that of managing clerk to a large City firm, in which he had every chance of some day rising to a partnership. Since he had married, however, the large City firm had come to grief, and had appeared in the columns of that highly respectable, semi-weekly newspaper, of which her most gracious Majesty Queen Victoria is sole proprietor, which is published every Tuesday and Friday, and which is called the Gazette.' Johnson had subsequently got engaged upon the new Sugar-Cane and Molasses Company (Limited, now just struggling for existence. But he did not care to tell his own wife, even, still less his mere acquaintances, that his connection with that company was only that of a clerk at thirty shillings a week. So he maintained this mystery about his City business to his ordinary acquaintances, while he restrained his wife from calling on him at his City office.

But Christmas comes but once a year; and, as everybody knows who has ever read anything more sentimental than an almanac, the 25th of December is a day on which the domestic virtues and home affections hold high festival. At Christmas time the various members of families unite, and perform all sorts of mystic rites over wassail-bowls, cans of egg-flip, bowls of bishop, tankards of mulled claret, and what not. So, considering the genial influences of the season, we can scarce blame Mrs. Johnson for that, finding herself on Christmas Eve in the immediate vicinity of her husband's office, she so far forgot her liege lord's general orders as to determine that she would just this once call in, and bring him home with her.

His office was No. 56 in the very street, the corner of which she was now passing. The corner house itself, opposite which she paused, bore for its number 48. Her husband was then but eight doors off. Only the frontages of eight narrow houses separated her from her dear Johnson. Was it likely she could pass on without walking just the distance of these eight doors out of her way to see him? And upon Christmas Eve, too!

Mrs. Johnson turned down the street, and, having come to No. 56, she entered. A strange, uncomfortable feeling seemed to take possession of her as she did so a feeling that she was in some way an intruder, was trespassing on forbidden ground; and as she mounted the inhospitable, unfamiliar stone steps that led to the offices above, she could

scarcely overcome a feeling of downright desolation, as she reflected how utter a stranger she was in this place, where her husband passed the greater part of his daily existence.

She reached the first floor, upon which she had some recollection of having heard her husband say his office was situated; but she looked round in vain for any reference either to Johnson or to Sugar-canes and Molasses. There were several doors upon the landing, but all bore unfamiliar names. All but one; and that had upon it simply a smudge of whitey-brown paint, blotting out whatever name had been there before. She was about giving up the search as hopeless, when her eye fell upon a strange hieroglyphic figure, which persons of an imaginative turn of mind might take for the representation of a human hand, with the forefinger pointing up the next flight of stairs. Upon the wall, close adjoining this anatomically impossible hand, were inscribed the words 'Johnson & Co.'

Upstairs accordingly she went; and knocking timidly at the office-door which bore her husband's name, was invited to enter.

She found herself in a handsomely carpeted, handsomely furnished roommore handsomely furnished, it appeared to her, than Johnson's business could either require or afford. Yet, doubtless, he knew best. In getting up a public company it might be necessary to make a show at any sacrifice. However this might be, she could not help mentally contrasting that splendid Brussels carpet, with the felt drugget that adorned their best parlour at home; and the comparison was decidedly not in favour of the drugget.

The sole occupant of the office was a slim, wiry youth, or boy, or man-for he might have been any of age, from fifteen to five-and-twenty-whose bright red hair and keen, cunning sparkling eyes irresistibly suggested the notion of a fox.

Was Mr. Johnson in?" she asked the foxy-looking clerk.

No, he was not. But would she wait half a second, please? What name?

But Mrs. Johnson would not give her name. She had-silly little creature that she was-felt an indescribable relief on hearing that her husband was not upon the premises. The moment she had seen that elegantly-appointed office, so unlike what she had pictured it to herself, she had repented the rash step she had taken in intruding there, in opposition to his express wish. She felt very much as poor Mrs. Bluebeard

must have felt on first viewing the forbidden interior of the Blue Chamber. What she now saw was less horrible than the sight that had met that lady's eyes; but it was none the less one forbidden by her husband. Therefore she would rather he should not know she had been there. So she made some blundering speech, to the effect that her business was not of the slightest consequence; and that she would perhaps call again. (A fib! and she knew it. Once safe away from there, she would never come again without her husband's sanction.) And so, with more blundering apologies to the red-haired clerk for having disturbed him, she tried to make her way out at the door.

But this young gentleman would not hear of it. In the politest manner possible, but with a firmness far beyond his years (whatever they might have numbered), he requested her to be seated, Just for half a second.'

Of course, it would be preposterous to refuse waiting for the infinitesimal portion of time, although perhaps accurately speaking it might be difficult even to take a seat in the allotted period. Mrs. Johnson did not wish it to be thought that she absolutely ran away from her husband's office, much as she inwardly regretted having come there at all. So she consented to sit down for half a second.

The foxy-looking clerk disappeared through a door marked 'Private. The half second that he was absent proved a long one. So long indeed that if there be any truth in the multiplication table, human life made up of such half seconds would, with its threescore years and ten, utterly eclipse the longevity of the patriarchs before the flood. Long enough, amongst other things, was the half second that she waited, for Mrs. Johnson to overhear from the inner office to which her husband's clerk had retreated, a shrill and unmistakably female voice exclaim

'Wants to see Mr. Johnson, and will give no name! Bring her in here to

me!"

What could this mean? Who could be the owner of this shrill female voice, that seemed to speak with such authority? Poor little Mrs. Johnson regretted more and more that she had disobeyed her husband by calling at his office. She felt very miserable and uncomfortable altogether, and would have given anything could she have got away unquestioned from the spot.

At this moment, however, the foxylooking clerk made his reappearance, and requested she would step into the

private office for half a second. (Half a second seemed to be his notion of the amount of time required for most things.) Would she step in for half a second?

No; she thanked him. She would rather not. Her business was not of the slightest consequence. And she fancied she had heard a lady's voice.

The foxy-looking one repliedYes; it is Mrs. Johnson!'

'WHO?'

Mrs. Johnson! Eh? Why, what's the matter, ma'am? You seem taken queer all at once. Take a chair, ma'am, for half a second.' 'Oh, no, no!' cried the poor little woman, bursting into tears. 'There's some mistake. Do let me go now, please.'

She was moving towards the outer door, and the foxy one, by way of remonstrance, was about to suggest the propriety of reflecting upon matters for his favourite length of time, when the door of the inner office once more opened.

A lady of commanding presence made her appearance: a lady above the average height, and decidedly beyond the average circumference, even in the present ultra-crinoline age: a lady wearing a magnificent and amply distended dress of urple moire antique, surmounted by a black velvet jacket trinned with real sable: a lady with a massive gold chain affixed to a gold watch considerably larger than the usual run of lady's watches, and worn outside her jacket at her waist: a lady with a profusion of valuable rings adorning her somewhat extensive hands, and of other jewellery adorning her somewhat extensive person generally. All this poor little Mrs. Johnson was able to perceive at a glance, even in the midst of her confusion and distress. Indeed, she would have been no true woman had she not. We verily believe if there were female members of the police force, and one such were to arrest a criminal of her own sex, even upon the gravest charge, the culprit, before thinking of her own defence or answer to the accusation, would manage to 'take stock' of what her captor was dressed in.

The gorgeously-attired female having gazed fixedly at our friend Mrs. Johnson, for a brief space of time (for 'about half a second' would doubtless have been the deposition of the foxy-looking clerk, had he been called as a witness in the matter), and finding that lady not inclined to open the conversation, or indeed do anything but shed tears and tremble, begged to inquire what her business might be, adding that anything she might have to say to Mr.