The statistics of wrecks and of the amount of human property which have fallen a prey to the 'sounding main' may thus be shewn to be not only paralleled but vastly exceeded in importance and extent by the records of the geologist, when he endeavours to compute the losses of the land or the gains of the sea. But on the other hand, the man of science asks us to reflect on the fact that the matter stolen from us by the sea is undergoing a process of redistribution and reconstruction. The fair acres of which we have been despoiled, will make their appearance in some other form and fashion as the land of the future; just indeed as the present land represents the consolidated sea-spoil of the past, which by a process of elevation has been raised from the sea-depths to constitute the existing order of the earth. Waste and repair are simply the two sides of the geological medal, and exist at the poles of a circle of ceaseless natural change. So that, if it be true that the sea reigns where the land once rose in all its majesty, as the Laureate has told us, no less certain is it that--to conclude with his lines-- There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. Thus the subject of sea-spoil, like many another scientific study, opens up before us a veritable chapter of romance, which should possess the greater charm and interest, because it is so true. THE ADMIRAL'S SECOND WIFE. CHAPTER IV.--LAURA BROUGHT TO TASK. The Admiral says 'good-night' to the last of his guests; then he turns to his daughter, who is evidently preparing for a speedy retreat. 'Don't run away yet, Laura; we keep early hours at Government House, but it is not very late yet.' Rather reluctantly, Mrs Best obeys. She knows perfectly well why her father wishes her to remain, and she shrewdly suspects what subject of conversation he is likely to introduce. Now that she has had her triumph, by carrying out a pet plan with regard to Katie, that very success makes her uneasy, for she knows she will be called to account. However, she resolves to be brave, and at once leads the way to the music-room. The servants have already put out most of the lights, but here the wax-candles are throwing lustre over scattered music and deserted seats. Laura gathers up some of the songs, wondering when her father will begin, and how the attack will open. She knows it is coming, for he is restlessly pacing to and fro the room with that quarter-deck march of his, that betokens an uneasy mind. 'Why were the Greys not here this evening, Laura?' She smooths out the leaves of an Italian duet, lays it on the music-stand, and replies with apparent indifference: 'Because they were not invited, papa.' 'Why not? I gave you the list, and I'm certain their names were down. Why did you omit them?' 'Is it always necessary to invite the same people over and over again? The Greys have been at every party that has taken place since I came here to stay.'