Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. . "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. But they were too late. "But, I half suspect, of your father. “They are full of the usual foolish stories. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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