THE EDITOR'S STORY. 161 



plover and the clang of winter-sailing geese are 

 heard. The ' Wisp ' is deserted and broken 

 up. I am sole heir of the eccentric library, 

 and of the rods and guns that ornamented so 

 appropriately our little cosy nook. These 

 relics are full of touching memories to me, as 

 most things are which belong to us before we 

 have grown silly enough to be a little wise and 

 a little selfish. 



