Upon an eminence on the coast between Penzance and the Land’s End stood a substantial dwelling, which though designated a cottage, presented every token of homely comfort. A quantity of fishing materials, hung out to dry, showed it to be tenanted by those hardy sons of the ocean, who brave the greatest dangers to procure fish for the markets; whilst the air of neatness and enjoyment also proved it to belong to one of that class of men, who risk their existence to save the lives and property of others--the undaunted pilot. A winding and declivious path led to the shelving rocks below, which formed a small inlet or bay for vessels of a light draught, that had received the name of the Smuggler’s Gap, from its having been frequently used by those daring outlaws in their illegal trade. On the same evening that has been already mentioned, an anxious mother quitted the cradle in the cottage to look out towards the sea for those whom, next to heaven, she loved best. Her foreboding eye had witnessed the same prognostics of the gale, and with a heavy heart she resumed the mother’s watch over her sleeping infant. A fair and beautiful female, about fifteen years of age, was attending to the duties of the house; a boy of ten years sat by his mother’s side gazing on her care-marked countenance; whilst a girl of three years was sharing her supper with a rough but favourite dog on the hearth before the fire. “I must feed poor Dorey, mother,” said the little one, “for James told me to be kind to him. Poor Dorey!” continued she, patting his head, “I wish James was here.” “You should remember, Mary,” replied the mother, “there are also your father and your grandfather.” “And Edward,” added the boy; “I miss him very much; for he used to help me up the rocks, and I am afraid to scramble along alone.” “All are equally dear to us, William,” rejoined the mother, “and all are equally under the care of Providence. Yes; I trust the Fisherman’s Family is safe.” “Who gave her that name, mother?” inquired William; “you promised to tell me.”