The full strength of the Atlantic seems now devoted to the destruction of the frail craft yet rocking on the submerged reef at the mouth of the Channel. The waves rush thunderingly to the attack like squadrons of heavy cavalry. They have gained their mighty power—the grand force of the avalanche—by countless battles in the tempestuous ocean they are rolling from. Sounding their battle-neighs, the wild sea-horses rear their gaunt heads as they near the rock, and flaunting their curling white manes, leap bodily on to the Saucy Marie.

She staggers as though her last hour had come, lurches backward into the trough ready to engulf her, but is jerked forward again by a counter- charge of the wild-waters—jerked forward with such violence that her stern now becomes wedged in the rock, while the head droops as though ready to drop, beaten, into the depths yawning to receive the fishing-boat. A new danger now threatens them. It is a voice from the hold that sounds the warning note.

" Captain!" "Hullo, Jacques!" "All's lost! She leaks!" " Never say die, man. Speak low. Don't frighten the crew, Where's the leak ?" Captain Baret lowers his own voice as, with hands to mouth, he sends the answer down to Jacques. To the men the man of action turns and shouts a laconic command— " Pump, men! For your lives!" "Ay, ay, Captain!" He then bends down, with hand to ear, to listen * We have much pleasure in making this extract from a well-written tale, entitled " Marie Beliefs Revenge," by JOHN LATET, Jmr., Esq., Author of " The Broken King," now being published In The Penny Illustrated Paper. The story is full of incidents and traits of character, and its authorworthily represents in literature a father well known for his beautiful verses which occasionally appear in the columns of the Illustrated London News.

For the reply of Jacques, if it is possible to hear his voice now, when to the roar of the gale is added the noise of the sailors hurrying over the streaming deck. The voice of the mate is only lust audible.

' The leek's near the keelson. There's a hole two feet wide in the waist, on the port side. But ;he rock sticks up through the hole; so it doesn't leak much yet." " How much water in the hold?" "Two feet. But 1 think now it must have washed through from the deck, captain. The rock seems to have corked up the hole." " Very well, Jacques. Up you come, my hearty.

Mind you fasten down the battening safely after you; then lend a hand at the pump. Quick, Jacques!" This direction energetically given by Captain Baret, he turns to Jean, for whose zealous hands there is for the moment no occupation.

" Jean, hasten down into my cabin and fetch up my gun. Our only hope now is in sounding the alarm to those ashore." '• Here's the gun, Guillaume," Jean is soon able to reply, handing him an old, weather-beaten weapon; " but there's no powder in the locker." " No powder left ?" " No." " There's no help for it, then. This one charge must suffice to awaken the Cornishmen." Giving one last glance at the dark rim of shore upon which the foam-white storm-surf is madly breaking, Captain Baret levels his gun towards the frowning cliffs which bound the horizon land- wards.

He fires. Alas ! as the report of the firearm rises above the din of the tempest, and speeds ashore as a leaden messenger of the perilous plight in which the ship-wrecked fishermen are left, another report of dire meaning greets the ears of the captain and crew of the Saucy Marie.

A gigantic wave rushes to the assault with such fury that the foremast is severed, and one of the crew washed overboard. The towering walls of water hide from sight for evermore both man and mast.

" Pump, pump, my men !" shouts out the cap- tain. " Poor old Louis's gone to a better world.

But we're not quite tired of this world, brave hearts, are we ? There's hope of rescue yet by those gallant Cornishmen we've heard of." The skipper himself gazes almost hopelessly through a telescope shorewards. No sign of relief! A second look through the glass reveals what calls forth an exclamation of joy from the captain.

" Thank God! my men. There's a flicker—a faint flicker, but still a flicker—of lantern-light on shore 1" Not a will-o'-th'-wisp of the storm, surely! No. The glass shows, happily, a tough craft that bravely breasts the breakers, and a cluster of hare-headed figures on the beach waving God- speed to the venturesome crew. Black dots appear the lusty rowers in the dim distance ; but the vigour of their stout strokes assures the anxious skipper of one welcome fact.

"The Life-boat's launched! Hurrah!" he loudly shouts.

" Pump away, my men! I see already a white line of breakers between them and the black beach. Courage, brave hearts! They're now fighting valiantly with the long green billows of this cursed hurricane. Look, Jean!" Jean now takes the glass from the captain's hands. The telescope enables him to make out more distinctly the hardy crew who man the Life-boat. He can see, as the gallant bark rides at intervals on the top of a wave, that there are two men on each seat, and that every man pulls with might and main at an oar; while the look- oat stands erect in the bows, and a bearded coxswain steers. There is a dire creaking on board the Saucy Marie at this juncture. She droops more and more for'ard.

"Come aft!" shouts Captain Baret. Not a moment too soon. Another heavy sea dashes over the wreck. A splash—splash into the raging waters. The mainmast splits in twain and is swept away. The keel snaps, her ribs fall asunder ; and the fore part of the fishing-boat is engulfed by the insatiable waves. The stern is all that remains. The fatal blow that rent her in two left the stern-piece wedged more firmly than ever in the sunken concave rock. The long, towering Atlantic rollers mercilessly gather them- selves together to renew the attack. One green, vicious wave grows in volume and in height as it draws near the wreck. It falls with savage force on the mere shred of the Saucy Marie that remains.

« Hold on!" Armed by the captain's caution, Jean and Martin and the crew follow his example, and again hold on for dear lives, grasping the little that's left of the bulwarks, and clutching with their feet at every jutting projection on board.

The heavy mass of seething water crashes over them once again. They are half drowned, but have held on like the grim death who assails them with such fearful strength and tenacity.

But struggling against death, on ploughs the Life-boat. Seas break over the Life-boat men in vain. Dauntlessly they row on their errand of mercy, just shaking the spray from their sou'- westers like sea-dogs. Often the gallant blue-and- white craft seems to stagger and stand still, utterly uoable to make further way against wind and wave. Cheered by encouraging words from the brave old blue-eyed squire steering so steadily, the intrepid crew pull themselves to- gether for fresh toil. Pulling sturdily with those strong arms of theirs, armed with muscles of steel assuredly, the Life-boat dashes forward again to the rescue. A faint " Vivat!" is borne to the Life-boat by the gale.

" There's one poor devil still alive, lads, thank Heaven!" is the hearty response of the grey- bearded squire, who has chivalrously taken the helm, a brave Scottish gentleman, who had made the Lizard his home.

" Now then, lads, let her go!" he cheerily adds.

And well the heroic oarsmen answer to the call. A few more powerful strokes, and the welcome Life- boat is riding as near as she can safely go to the wreck of the Saucy Marie.

" Vivent les Anglais!" cry out the grateful Frenchmen, with broken voices.

" Throw a line, captain ! Then your men can come on board the boat one by one, is the ready response in French of the ruddy coxswain.

A rope is accordingly thrown, and made fast.

One by one the crew leap from the wreck, and one by one each is safely hauled into the Life- boat until there remain but two on the storm- washed relic of the Saucy Marie. They are Captain Baret and Jean.

Seizing the line promptly, Jean plunges into the sea.

A heavy wave dashes him away from the Life- boat. The line snaps. He is struggling in the foaming waters.

The same moment a huge billow upheaves the frail piece of wreck from which Captain Baret is ready to spring, and threatens to overwhelm both wreck and Life-boat.

"Jean!" The shout comes from a man struggling on the top of a wave. The man is Captain Guillaume Baret. The last billow of the tempest has at once hurled him into the heaving sea, and dashed to pieces on the rock the last timber of his tough fishing-boat the Saucy Marie.

"I'm safe, Guillaume;" is the cry that comes promptly back. " Make for the Lite-boat!" There is now, happily, a break, in the dull, leaden clouds. The sun has at last effected a breach in the sullen vapours of the morning.

There appears a glimmer of the silver lining.

From the rift shoots down a ray of light straight on to the black point of rock which the subsiding waves are baring. The faint stream of sunlight also glints upon the two strong swimmers buffet- ing their way to the Life-boat. The buoyant craft has stoutly ridden over the last thundering Atlantic roller. Assured of the safety of his crew, the gallant grey-bearded Scot at the helm manoeuvres to rescue the two shipwrecked men yet afloat.

" Back water, lads!" Simultaneous with this command, the quick- eyed coxswain pushes the helm hard a-starboard, so as to swerve the stern nearer to Jean and the bow nearer to Captain Baret. Bold, skilful swim- mers both, they gain the Life-beat after a few more tough breast-strokes. Sate on board, a torrent of earnest thanks, expressed with true French gesticulation by Captain Baret, sufficiently proves the gratitude of the Brunville fishing- skipper- for the invaluable service of the Life- boat crew. The mute eloquence of the softening glances of his men shows how truly the captain interprets their feelings as well as his own.

" Ah! Sir; you and your brave men are able to feel for me in my loss," adds Captain Baret, plaintively, to the hardy old Scot steering.

•' There floats by the last plank I shall ever see of the dear old Saucy Marie. Two-and-twenty years have we spent together, Sir. She has been to me bride and bread-winner all in one. She has softly rocked me to sleep at sea, and she was the cradle of Jean there, tor he sailed a voyage with me when quite a baby. She would have bravely weathered this storm, too, if " The sentence is left unfinished as he intended to finish it. With a rare tender-heartedness, Captain Baret stops his tongue just as it is about, to blame Jacques, the mate, for his negligence in letting the Saucy Marie run upon the rock. He deems the perils Jacques has undergone, and the loss of his berth, sufficient punishment for his drowsiness in the hour of duty.

" She would have bravely weathered this storm, too, 1 say, if I had not thoughtlessly left that poor lad, Martin, at the helm. .Put a jacket over him, Jean. Keep the youngster warm. Ah, my men! we shall have a sad tale to tell poor Louis's widow when we get back to Brunville." " We must get back to Pen Point first," is the answer of the blunt old coxswain, as he turns the head of the Life-boat straight for the shore, with a— " Now, give way, lads! Let her go!" Less dark grows the sky. A light wind follows at the rear of the hurricane, and rolls swiftly away the smoke-coloured clouds. The sun shines high in a bright azure expanse of the heavens.

" Pull with a will, men!" cheerily urges the bluff steersman. " The morning's wearing away, and our wives will be waiting dinner for us." With a will the lusty Life-boat crew accordingly pull. The sturdy bark ploughs through the calming waters. There is now but a long, un- dulating swell of green sea to skim through. The rest of the voyage home is easy enough. Hearts are, nevertheless, beating fast in suspense ashore How are the poor women to know that one or other of their bread-winners has not been swept oat of the Life-boat and list ? It was a fearful, arduous task to launch the Life-boat through the dread storm surf. Fairly on her way, there was yet so wild a sea and turbulent a wind to contend against that many hearts were full of fear lest the Life-boat should be capsized. Seas were seen to break over her. Might not each terrible sweep of water cause a vacant place in a cottage- hearth? "What relief, then, for aching hearts when the Life-boat is grounded on the beach, and wives and sisters and sweethearts rush down to meet her; and, while cheering fishermen haul the pride ! of Pen Point high and dry, the women satisfy their hungry eyes that not a man who put bis life at the mercy of the waves is missing! The welcome of the Life-boat crew and the 1 sympathetic greeting of the shipwrecked Freneh- | men over, the storm-tossed fishermen are led home by the open-hearted squire who steered the Life-boat to the rescue. They have fresh burdens of kindness showered upon them by the hospitality of the gallant old Scot in his villa on the cliff, where the rescued and the rescuers joined in expressing their feeling of gratitude for their preservation, and asked God to continue to the Life-boat Institution.