been a great personage.

He lived long enough for his brief story to be forgotten; and only the
clergyman and the squire, among all the people of the village where he
died, knew that the old man was in the least a hero. They knew that he
was fond of children, and they were all willing to run to oblige him.
Perhaps he wanted no better reward. In these days of advertisement,
much would have been made of him; for the great Collingwood had
specially mentioned him for a brilliant act of bravery. As it was, he
got very little pension and no fame.




THE HEROINE OF A FISHING VILLAGE.


Until she was nineteen years old, Dorothy lived a very uneventful life;
for one week was much the same as another in the placid existence of the
village. On Sunday mornings, when the church-bells began to ring, you
would meet her walking over the moor with a springy step. Her shawl was
gay, and her dress was of the most pronounced colour that could be
bought in the market-town. Her brown hair was gathered in a net, and her
calm eyes looked from under an old-fashioned bonnet of straw. Her feet
were always bare, but she carried her shoes and stockings slung over her
shoulder. When she got near the church she sat down in the shade of a
hedge and put them on; then she walked the rest of the distance with a
cramped and civilized gait. On the Monday mornings early she carried the
water from the well. Her great "skeel" was poised easily on her head;
and, as she strode along singing lightly without shaking a drop of water