A nest of rocks standing out upon the ocean, around which the waves dash with mournful measure, is one of the most inviting retreats for the people around Woodcliff. On this bright summer afternoon, a beautiful dreamer sits upon its summit, with eyes turned upward on the rapidly changing clouds. Ever and anon, a smile passes over the young face, as some bright thought flits through the teeming fancy. "Down, Hector, what is the matter?" said the child; but the dog continued barking and wagging his tail, as he ran down the side of the rock, and bounded along the beach. Madeline soon saw that her young friend Roland was coming towards them, with whom Hector was well acquainted. "Come up, Roland, it is perfectly splendid," exclaimed the little girl, and soon she was joined by her young companion. "I want you to come and help me watch the clouds. I don't know if you can see as I do, but there is everything that is beautiful this afternoon." "Look there, Roland! see that white-winged angel sailing along so softly; but it is fading--it is all gone--it seemed to wave its hand to us, bidding us farewell. Oh! look there at that group of clouds; there are soldiers, and banners, and spears flashing--don't you see that flag waving so grandly? Now just see, Roland, the flag has turned into a long fish with wings--now don't laugh at me, Roland." Roland could not but smile at her wild fancies, and replied, "I ought not to laugh at you, Miss Madeline, for many a beautiful picture have I seen on the clouds, and many an odd one in the winter fire." "Don't call me Miss Madeline, Roland; we go to the same school; I am younger than you, and I'm sure that you are a great deal wiser and better than I. It sounds so stiff; call me Madeline, or Maddy." "I'm only a poor boy, very far beneath you, Miss Madeline, and I don't think I can take the liberty," answered Roland. "Well, I won't answer you, Roland. If my father is a rich man, I'm only a little girl." "Look there, Madeline! that is a very black cloud. I think that we shall soon have a storm." "I'm not afraid of a storm; I rather like to see the lightning flash, and to hear the distant thunder; but I don't much like the thoughts of being wet." The clouds thickened rapidly; thunder began to rumble in the distance, and some large drops fell around them. "Had we not better turn our steps homeward?" asked Roland. "I think not," was the quick reply, "I have a fancy for seeing this storm." "Is there any shelter, Madeline?" "Yes, there is an old fisherman's hut among the next nest of rocks. We can go there." Quickening their pace, Roland took Madeline's hand, and hurried her rapidly along, for the wind was now blowing at a fearful rate.