Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. McClintock sent his yacht over for us this morning. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. "To me?" gasped Winifred. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through.
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