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A CRISIS.
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shed in noisy water-drops the moisture they had collected from the thick air, an acorn occasionally falling from its cup to the ground, in company with the drippings. In the heath, sheets of spiders'-web, almost opaque with wet, hung in folds over the furze-bushes, and the ferns appeared in every variety of brown, green, and yellow hues.

A low and merry whistling was heard on the other side of the hedge, then the light. footsteps of a man going in the same direction as himself. On reaching the gate which divided the two enclosures, the vicar beheld Dick Dewy's open and cheerful face. Dick lifted his hat, and came through the gate into the path the vicar was pursuing.

'Good-morning, Dewy. How well you are looking!' said Mr. Maybold.

'Yes, sir, I am well—quite well! I am

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