There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. Gerald sighed. But the five per cent. "Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. ‘Looks like it. ‘You imbecile. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. ” Lucy’s eyes smiled and a weary closed lipped smile arose on her face.
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