THE LIGHTHOUSEseventy-five last March; l\/Ir. Ramsay wasseventy-one. Macalister said he had never seen adoctor; he had never lost a tooth. And that’s theway I’d like my children to live—Cam was surethat her father was thinking that, for he stoppedher throwing a sandwich into the sea and told her,as if he were thinking of the fishermen and howthey live, that if she did not want it she shouldput it back in the parcel. She should not waste it.He said it so wisely, as if he knew so well all thethings that happened in the world, that she put itback at once, and then he gave her, from his ownparcel, a gingerbread nut, as if he were a greatSpanish gentleman, she thought, handing a flowerto a lady at a window (so courteous his mannerwas). But he was shabby, and simple, eatingbread and cheese; and yet he was leading themon a great expedition where, for all she knew,they would be drowned.‘ That was where she sunk," said Macalister’sboy suddenly.

‘ Three men were drowned where we arenow," said the old man. He had seen themclinging to the mast himself. And Mr. Ramsaytaking a look at the spot was about, ]ames andCam were afraid, to burst out:But I beneath a rougher sea,and if he did, they could not bear it; they would315