THE schooner went on drifting, and drew near to Blomidon again. The giant cliff frowned darkly overhead, its sides all scarred and riven by the tempests of centuries, its base worn by the fierce tides that never cease to sweep to and fro. Standing as it does, it forms one of the sublimest objects in nature. Other cliffs are far higher, and every way more stupendous; but Blomidon is so peculiar by its shape, its position, and its surroundings, that it stands monarch of the scene, and rises always with a certain regal majesty, seldom appearing without its diadem of clouds. All around are low lands, wide meadows, and quiet valleys, and the far spreading sea, into which this rugged height is boldly projected, terminating an abrupt rocky wall. From the shores, for many and many a mile around, wherever the eye may wander over the scenery, it rests upon this as the centre of the view. “Blomidon,” said Bart, “looks more magnificently than ever, and we have an excellent chance for a close inspection.” “I confess,” said Bruce, “that I would rather not have so good a chance just now. I’d rather be near the mud flats of Cornwallis than this majestic cliff.” “It’s my opinion,” said Phil, “that Blomidon is taking it out of us.” “How?” “How? Why, because we slighted him. We started with the intention of landing here, and instead of doing so we’ve been almost everywhere but here. So now he has got us, and he will keep us.” “Well, if we only had something to eat, I wouldn’t care.” “I can’t eat pork.” “And I always hated Indian meal.” “.And I’m getting tired of molasses candy.” “Besides, I don’t believe that it’s healthy.” “And then, you know, it’s always burnt.” “But it certainly takes away one’s appetite.” “Yes, that’s a consideration. What would become of us if our appetites were left?” As they spoke, Mr. Long drew near. They were within a stone’s throw of the cliff, and were drifting slowly by. He looked up at the summit, as it. towered far above him, and then ran his eye along the black, tempest-torn sides. “Boys,” said he, with a smile, “you’re right. Blomidon feels his majesty to be slighted. He’s avenging himself on us. He’ll keep us here till he gets a victim, or at least till some apology is made. Now, I’m going to appease his sullen majesty.” “How’s that, sir?” “By offering up a victim. And who do you think it will be? It will be--myself.” “You, sir!” “Yes. I’m going to land.” “To land!” “Yes. One of you can take me ashore, and leave me. I know the place well enough, and will walk to the nearest village. I can get a horse easily enough, and be home before sundown.” “Can’t some of us go with you, sir?” asked Bart, eagerly.