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ENTERED AT THE POST OFFICE AT NEW YORK, N. Y., A! SECOND CLASS MAIL RA-ru.

Published Every c8017 (7 7p (fv dﬂri’am s). @11blishers, m, cm. a 00”,
Week. 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.. December 22, 1880. $5.00 3. Your.

 THE SEAORSLIPPER;
E AMATEUR FREEBOOTERS.

 
BY PROFESSOR J. H. INGRAHAM.

 
T
I

 
"FIRE!" THERE WERE TWO SPIRITS RELEASED AT THAT FATAL mscnml.

 
5;

~.

r
. r,

.. .Itrait called

2

These.a._Slippér-

 
The Sea Slipper;
THE AMATEUEREEBOOTBRS.

BY PROF. J. H. INGRAHAM.

CHAPTER I.
THE SEA surrm.

Pr was at the close of a Igolden afternoon in.Au-
tumn, that anumerous ﬂeet of small vessels might
have been seen making for the narrow outlet of
Lung island Sound, between Saud’s Point and Hart’s
Island, which forms the entrance to that beautiful
East Rivenhut which well deserves to
be named the “ American Bosphorus."

the ﬂeet approached the eastern entrance to

I thiaminiiture Bosphnrus, it drew nearer together,

 
and the diversity of form among the numerous ves-

!els composing it was in strange contrast, for there

were the tall and stately brig‘antine leading the way,

lypainted sleeps, With their high spiral masts,

ners'by the score, ' erel boats, piloteratts,

be dis: astemv heavy sail lug-gens. laden to the
it

Before a steady breeze the vessels crowded toward
the Pass, stretching every inch of canvas in order to

reach the port, saved leagues away. before night-

a

One of; the, ﬂeet a beautiful clipper-built schooner ,

l

l

S

I

ly removed from his cuff, tho h not without leaving (
traces of the marks appropria e to a. junior.

“The schooner wil sure] fall foul of us, cap-
tain,” said the elderly gent eman, with some anx-
iety, as the adventurous vessel came bounding with
a owing sheet across the course of the brl .

“ If he has had the luck to run the ‘ De ’s Bite '
sir, without knocking off his fore-foot, carrying a ' .
sail like the Flying Dutchman in a gale of wind,.
he‘ take care to keep the ribs of his nimble craft 2
out of the we of a merchant brig’s nose," said the ‘
captain, quiet y replac his .cigar which he had
taken from his lips to rep y, and coo y turning once
more to lean over the quarter-rail and watch the
motion of the graceful vessel.

The schooner was eighty tons burden, and con-
structed on a most perfect model for sailing, and
with a tasteful eye to symmetrical beauty. Her
hull was ainted so below her bends, and her
u per war 3 were at block. A narrow ribbon of
w ite paint, scarce two inches broad, separated the
two colors, and gave relief and brightness to her
sides. Her bows were as sharp as those of a club-
boat; and ﬁtting as if it grew out of them ex-
tended at a. sharp ang e a ver long bowsprit, grace
fully terminating to a penc' -like ﬂying jib~boom.
Her masts were single sticks, tapering to withes
and instead of being round, were ﬂattened fore an

 
i aft to an oval shape, in order to hold less wind. Her -

i

had been for the :tst half-hour gallantly overhaul- 1
ing one after another of the convoy, and leaving ‘

them behind to glide by others still ahead to ﬁnally
gain a position just astern of the leading brigantine
just as she was entering the Pass.

.The schooner's canvas was stretched to its ut-
most and along, square foresail. extended on the

west er bow, forced her through the water at a ‘,
speed that threatened, before another half mile to ‘
leave the brigantine itself astern, and give her the .

lead of the entire 5 nadron.
tinned to stand steadll‘y

The, brigantinc con- i
on toward the imualchan- .

nel, between the island and the main, and. in imita- ‘

tion of the schooner began also to increase her soil
by the addhion‘ of a foretop—gallant-studd’n’saﬂ
and her lnain-top-sail.

Notwithstanding this intima- ,

tion, on the part of the brig, of an intention to main- ‘

tain the lead, the schooner gained on her rapidly,

ae-andr entered the narrowest part of the

,,, ’abcun-nnd to windward of her.
I. 'Mdgztil'rabreast a few seconds until theya proached ‘

    
l
E ﬁery curled wﬁifiit We the index of a proud.

 
as a
They contiguetsiago ,

portion of the strait where the main c annel in- »

chnes t0 the left toward the main land, and is di-
vided from it by a rocky ridge, inside of which is
also a narrow and dangerous. passage seldom at-
tempted save by vessels of yer little

under the government of skill ul 'p’ilots. e brig

mu tint, and ;

kept on her way through the broader and safer ‘

channel. and in the slight alteration that it was ne—
cessary to effect in her course to follow its curve, she
threw her rival again in a

osition ustern. In an in- .

stant the schooner’s stu tin-sails were hauled in- 3
board, her ﬂying-jib was set, her fore and main-
sheets hauled aft, and putting her helm hard up she f

changed her course with the rapidity of thought
and steered directl between the ridge of rocks an
the main, as if wit the intention of mterceptin the

1» a very dark, handsq- 3e youn man, and slender,
‘ yet well she sat appea to be not above twen-
y-two or res ya we of e. His carriage was
graceful and conm.a.nding— ste ﬁrm, and his

brig and passing ahead of her before she coul ac- 1

compljsh the circuitous route by the channel.

The ‘

brig did not deviate from her course, but ke t stead- ‘

ily on
bows, vmg far he ind, upon the azure dee
a. snowy furrow; while the schooner. with swift allll

hgwm, dashiu the foam aside rom her ‘

gliding motion, scarcely turning up a. ,wave with her .

sharp prow, took her adventurous way between the
rock and’thé beach.
After a. sell of twenty minutes the two vessels ap-

each other, where the passes met at the ‘

    
Whed
extremity of the ledge. The schoonerwas half her
I ahead, and shooting boldly out into the broad
a isteer directly across the bows of the
- . nten
': observed with is me slang from the deck of
by a small grou that ha hitherto watched
~ _ : : o the 7 swltli deep interest. It con-
ian elderly gentleman, of a commanding

, ‘ ‘P
~ t with some ,
= - there was no ikeness to the gentleman
-~ betray any relationshi of blood to him:
yet hummer toward her, and is form of inter-
course mith1her.as they stdod u on the deck and
watch , movements of these ooner, made it ap-
gare she was under the kindest, if not under paren-
l p , on. There was a. third person of the par-
ty, .ﬁther standinghin such a position near itas to
render it uncertain w ether he elonged to it,or not.
Hisvtace was thoughtful. if not sad, and he seemed
to ‘unconscious of every thinglaround him save
wh - :3 light laughisof the mal en would at times
ca him to hft eves to her face, instantly to

‘ course 'and unless one or the other hauled their
ng to run her aboard. This maneu- ‘

pearauce, and a. young girl extremely .
' of a foreign style of fea- '

dr~ them sin upon'the deck or ﬁx them vacantly
upon the. s boner. He was dressed in the wplain :
mixed) '. me of a. Harvard student, th a

um S drop in in folds and terminatin
lugs "en Eel, over llis eft cheek. His age could
no we been above twenty, yet his ﬁgure was ﬁne-

rtioned, with an expansive chest, and man- K
His complexion was fair and ‘
man- ‘

1y
l ' sieve d carriage.
“I naggirl’s, for as et the down of o nin
hood had scarcely shat owed lus chin. is ha 1‘ was
of A“ soft wa brown and worn long to his shoul-
del'l'. ‘ The (JEn of the visor to his ca
the highs and
also was stamped tn the impress of mind.
“3 1’”me of a spirited and manly character, and
p es

the Greeks knemso well how to give to marble, but

displayed :
out of his white fore cad, whlifjh ‘
s .

hat11describable grace and ﬁnish which 1

which‘is so rhr'ely met with in every-day life. The ,

eve was clear. gray. naturally piercing as an ea-
e's. Itwas now ibdued. e upper lip was
was more volu tuously round-

5 pogr student—to:
scholastic habit, as

and the, net
5a tune, 

mums Well-warns ta 1*

._,..:r>'el 35 other signs, showed him to be. Perm

. 5‘. however, he was now no longer a student‘ no - :.

. standing his costume, inasmuch as the .usual
wreaths of needle-work that should have designated
the number of his scholastic yearshad been careful-

c .

g.“

sail large enough for a. brig of two hurl red tons, an

. tinue his nautical )romenade.

fore and mainsails were very square, and displayed
canvas eno ht for a craft nearly twice her size

She can'ied ore and main gal-top a fore top-_

Qt.

immense jib and large gang—jib, while a square fore- 7
soil swung to a yard 0 1: ed from her cross-trees
to her forecastle. She glale was built rather for
sailin than burden, an in all her appointments it
could e seen that speed alone had been aimed at.
Altogether she was one of the most beautiful vessels
that ever danced the waves. On her neat decks as
the looked down upon her from the brig, they
can d see that every ro was coiled with the nicest
nautical precision, an that the decks themselves
were as white and spotless as a housewife‘s ﬂoor—
while caboose, com nionway binnacle and batch-
es, neatly painted lack, strikineg relieved their
snowy hue. At her peak was disp ayed a small blue
ﬂag, representin the waves of the sea, and with a
white graceful p or in the center.

What particular y struck the group as the schoon-
er came nearer, was the appearance of those on
board. At the helm stood a young man dressed in
neat white ntaloons a blue striped shirt and a
black knot handkerchief,while on his head he wore
ared woolen Portuguese cap; but this sailor’s cos- r’
tume could not conceal a certain air of reﬁnement in
his appearance, that showed he had not been all his
life a. child of the sea. Two others similarly
dressed, save that they wore silver bands around
their caps, were standing near him, inﬂolently lean:
lng over the railing, conversing and smoking, while
the fourth paced the weather side of the uarter-
deck alone with a. small spy-glass beneath h arm.
His dress was that i” a seamen also, but he were
above his striped s irl: a round blue acket, orna-
mented with a gold and on either shou der, and in-
stead of the red in 301611 conical cap. he wore a
scarlet silk'one, ado .ied by aband of old. He was

air that of a hold an i resolute man. casionall he
would an inst cut in his walk, glance ah to-
ward e b , giv: a formal order, and then con-
Five or six other

young men, 'dressel like helmsmen, appeared to

compose the whole of the crew—tho h an awning
covering the force tstle ht have idden others
from the view of "hose in b B the time

a (gum.
or, the schooner had got thin
the mind gradually falllngoﬂ‘
bol-ﬂy standing di across her

and his passe
ﬁfty fathom o
the wind. was
wind. it was clear they would the next minute come
incollis‘lon.

“ Will he dare -.ttempt crossing our bows!" ex-
claimed the gentle‘uan. as he turned from the dur-
ing schooner to the captain who was compressing
his lips between an. .vrise an apprehension.

The captain made no reply but seizingatrum-
pet spomng into the ri;.gln , an waved it emphati-
cally, ward the younr be men. -

“ uﬂ, mm or we all hoover youl" he shouted,
as the two vessels came trending nearer and nearer
toward each other. ,

The young seamen smiled and waved his hand
and continued to steer the same course.

“ B Jupiterl They are determined, the brig shall
walk nto her—the land-lubbersl I would sink the

acht for the young gentleman if it were not for

he brlg's danger. , “Lutf, luff!" he thundered
through his trumpet. '

“ For God’s sakei put the brigI away, captain. we
318.11 both sink if we strike toga er,“ cried the gen-

eman.

The captain looked a moment at the schooner.
Collision seemed inevitable.

“Hard up! hard!" he shouted to the man at the
helm, s ringlngtothe deck, with an oath, and run-

ning to is old. “ Cost 01! the weather braces! Let
ﬂy everything!"

The brig, yieldingvto freedom ntcd' her,
slowly swun off. In t 9 wind, her bows

landward. t for this sudden change in the brlg‘s
course, the two vessels would the next instant have
come together. But the movements of the schooner
made it clear she had commuted upon this. a! the
natural enact to be produced by - her .bold and dan-
gerous maneuver. For no sooner did the brig fall
off and present her broadside toher former course,
than the young helmsman t the schooner directly
in the Wind’s e e and laid {gr alongside of the brig I
with wonderf s and recision. The two vessels I
were i] locked to etller fore and aft, and the
youngcﬁp ain sprung from the bows of his vessel into
the mam chains of the brig, and leaped upon the
quarter-deck. , ,

“ That was a bold maneuver for a pleasure
yacht, Voung gentleman," said the Yankee captain,
eying the intruder with curiosity and surprise' “ but
I beg, sir, when you would make‘ dispiay of your [
skill in , you ’would come up windward

 
/

he”

1

and not put me but of in

course b crossing my
fore-foot. It was a mater y

lacs 0 seamanshlp.

. A prgtty yacht you have for p easm-e sailing in the

soun .

“ Yes, captain, and we are out for pleasant pas-
time, this evening. I pray you, a word with you.
Ah) there'is love nessl ’ he exclaimed, as his glance
rested on the oung lady, who wasgaz‘ on him
with unconscwus admiration and curios ty. The
maiden caught the lance of his large expresswc
eyes, and shrunk bac , blushing. The intruder ap-
proached the map, and after courteouslynsaluting
he noble-loo ng gentleman, said to her, a voice
most pleasing in its tones to the ear: .

“ I trust, entle lady. mg rude Visit has not caused
ﬁou any a arm; I s oul hardly have taken this
bert ad I known there were fair passengers on
be the brig. But I will soon leave you—as a few
moments will suﬂice to dispatch my errand with this
stout captain here."

“Your yacht, sir " said the elderly ﬁentleman,
“is the most. beautiful vessel I ever be el ."

“ It is graceful as a gondola," said the young lady

addressing the glentleman rather than the oung
seamen, t ough er eye once rested on his ace as
she was up

eaking.

“ She is called the Sea Sli per, lady."

“And that is the m n of thes bol on the

can ﬂag," she replied looking u at he object of

or remark. “ Pray, sir, are you e commander of
this beautiful craft?"

“Y madam."

“I was not aware that American gentlemen in-
dulged in these amusements. Noblemen of fortune
usually alone pursue them," remarked the gentle-
man

“We are noblemen of fortune, also, sir,“ re lied
the young man, smiling, “ but our title is our ree-
dom—our coat of arms, yonder bright ﬂag~our for-
tune the wide sea."

“Ha! you do not mean—"

But the youn man instantly turned away on

aking, and we ked toward the 5 0t where stood
t e captain, who had not overhear this conversa-
tlon,while the gentleman drew the suddenly pale

and beautiful to his heart. kissed her forehead,
and tgemain for an instant watching his move,
men

Captain, I have a. word with you,“ said he calmly,
“‘chilme "p Withbléim' ed 1 I losing tim
e ra . or am 0
with this acting.”y Spa y .
“ Have you not a. cabin i" asked the other, haughti-

.“I-I thought you could speak to me on deck,"
replied the surprised captain—“ but I scarcely have

time to go below with you. Is your business of im-
portancet"

“It iswprth full thirty thousand dollars to me,
my dear sir."

f Stand by the weather braces, and get all clear-to
bring the bl'lﬁlllls‘p to the win " said the ca tam, giv-
lng orders to ' ﬁrst ofﬁcer and he then ascended
inuo he cabin, followed by t e strum er.

t
Now, sir—if you please," said t e captain, im-
patigntly, as the stranger quietly took a seat upon

e ansom.

“I will not detain you, sir," said he courteou .
“ The liberty I am about to take I regret extreme
on your own account, my dear ca taln; butlfear
on will have to make up your min to consent to a
tIztlemii‘e,¢ttassta.ry freedom with a. portion of your
re .

“ ow, sir! What do
capt with suspicions 0 he knew not what.

I ' not keep you longer in suspfnse, as on
seem anxious to make sail on the rig. Ob 6
me by calli your steward."

The cap
ment obe

mulatto ante “ ourﬂn er through the ring
of the  amt: it on}

As he spoke. he pointed to small square scuttle
in the center of the cabin floor.

The mulatto prepared to obey, when the captain
forward and placed his foot upon it.

“ 0b me, ear captain—your weight makes it
somewhat heavier," he said, laﬁing his hand lightly
on his arm, and  forcing im aside.

The captain his eyes upon those of the
er an instant and then yielded in silence. The

, at the reiterated command of the stranger,
the hatch. and a dark cavity.

“What do you mean, air?" now demanded the
ﬁnal, with resolution, ssif suddenly ﬁnding the

use of his faculties. “This is at liberty. sir—"

“I do confess it is, dear captain; a veziy great
one; but I pray you suffer me to take it. A aw kegs
of old .and silver here in the run must be my,
apo ogy. ’ '

“ l a pirate, by heaveni” cried the captain, at
once giving'voice to his slowly maturing suspicions.
“Ho, on deck—"

33;."

He could proceed ntﬁ'urther, for the hand of the ’

young man was upon t, and a stiletto was
suspended above his heart. ,

“Steward. go down and hand up those kegs of

e, e eman e , a ow, even toneo v0 ca.

speci " h d, d d in l f i
‘ Down with you into the run. sirl”he ropes.de
second time as the mulstte hesitated.
- The man descended the steps and the young cap-
tain released his hold upon the ski per’s throat.
“ Breathe a syllable above your brea and you are
a dead man on the instant he said, as he motioned
him toward the after pa of the cabin.
have this thing done quietly. if you will. Lively,
lively,'sjtewardl

In. a few moments, six short iron-bound he s,
ﬁlled with gold were handed up) out of the run y
the mulatto, and on the ea in ﬂoor.

“I am ruined, r, if you take this. I shall be.
There is thirty thousand dollars," cri

1'.
“I kaisew it, my 'thaln. I saw it safely
stolved away here a the per in Boston. But fear
not—the mone was destined for the b..nk vaults,
and its loss wille no man.“
“ 911, I shall be mined, and I shall blow my brain!
outi’

“I will leave you a receipt that will clear you

wholly. Now 0 on deck. and stand b with
philosophy, whEe my- men pass these h’ito the
schooner.

on mean?" inquired the'

ean stared, hesitated, and the next may
-“ Stewaynd,"’ said the cool young seamen, as a tall v.

“ I would ‘

 
r. .-

9VHHW‘

[EC 5 l‘H‘ﬂ M V?

“a... .

9..-

3‘?
5i

 
The Sea Slipper.

3

 
“Surely you will not take it sir? I shall jump
overboard, and drown myself."

“ Obey me!"

“Never!” shouted the captain, mused to reso-
lution; “I have ten hands, besides my asse era
and it shall never be said Captain Ezra heeloc ' let
sixkegs of gold be taken out of his cabin, by a bloody
pirate, without striking a blow for it."

“ Hush, captain. I have thirty-seven young gen-
tlemen lying yonder, beneath the awning of my
forecastle. . shawl nonsense. my dear Ca tain
Ezra. Wheelock. You Will do no such foolish t ling.
Go on deck and put your brig under sail while the
gold is used out.“ I

The cat determination of the captain was con-
guered by the coolness of the pirate, as he now evi-

ently apt cared to be, and, 'w1thout a word, he sunk
u n the transom, and buried his face in his hands.
Th: emotion was but for an_iusi ant. With a sudden
im ulse, he s rung to his state-room, seized a
cut s that ung above his Rmow, and with a
phreusy of desperation attacke him. 'l'hrice.the
young man caught the blade upon the steel guard
of his stiletto, then closed with him, and wrested the
weapon from his grasp. Then 6011111ng 0. shrill
whistle, which was afﬁxed to the and of the da ger,
the answering feet of twenty men were heard cap-
ingu n the deck, and the next instant the cabin
was lied with determined young fellows, each with
a short naked sword in his land.

“ Sis; of you pass this gold into the Schooner with-
out noiso, and the rest of you hold possession of the
deck of tho brig till it is done," he said, addressing
their leader, who “as one of the two young sailors
who had stood together on tho quarter-deck. " ‘ap.
tain, come to the dock with me. Be under no alarm
-for, unless your crew resist me, there shall _be no
violence nor anythin removed save the god, for
which I have been in c aso of you the last twenty
four hours. I would have preferred com up wi h

our craft in more open sca' but men 0 our pro-
¥ession must risk somethin . It s a timid wolf that
will not venture into the to d."

They ascended to the dc ck. to ﬁnd the crew of the
brig under guard in thejvaist, and the passengers
already noticed, standing far astcrn, alarmed,
wondering, and silent. Tho youn ' on main immedi-
ately advanced toward them, an sai , in a. tone of
poloiry, to the older gentleman:

“ I t o exceedingly regret the alarm in presence
and that of in companions, has caused you—an
especially this over girl at your side. I need not
disguise my professwu. My object in boarding you
is to remove kegs of s cie. which I had reason to
know were on board his brig. M men are now

errin it to the schooner. 'Wit the last keg I
also quit t o brig, and leave you to pursuo your
course to the city.’

“ I do not less regret, sir," replied the gentleman,
inafceling yet digniﬁed tone of reprool‘, "that a
young gent eman of your bearing, and that of your
companions, who all seem well-born young men, iii-
stead of common pirates, should have undertaken
this profession, which must assuredly cud in u. pro-
maturo and ignominious death."

“Sir “ said the young man with seriousness, “we
are oung men, who have been educated to
be gent omen, without the birth or the fortune to
sustain and maintain the rank of such. We on-
tered the weild, and found it already apportioned
to the laborious and the useful. We could not, there-
fore, but carve our fortunes out of it with such in.

struments as fortune hdd ﬁiv us—and these were
only our wits. We triedt e on honesty, but they
grow dull and blunted—we could not starve, and

mother earth refusing to nourish us, we threw our-
selves u n the charity of father Neptune. When
he has n generous to us, we leave his domain
awhile and live like pleasant gentlemen on shore till
empty purses drive us once. more to depend upon
his unty.”

“ You are a pleasant gentleman, b mine honor,"
laid the old man, sadly smihnﬁl' “ do grieve at

our guilty profession, for you w as om get blood-
ess%old, as you have now done."

“ o court no carriage. Peaceably if we can, for-
cibly if we must, is our motto. Dearest lady, I ray
you accept this gem as a memento of my visit ere
-—-my heart tells me I shall need no token of the hour
I ﬁrst beheld you."

As he spoke he placed, ere she was aware. a bril-
liant diamond upon her hand.

“ Sir, this is bold," exclaimed the woman, step-
pin between her and the young cap .

“ 'ay, sir, it shall be a gage 0 our safety, should
circumstances ever place you or erself again in the
geathsﬁif any. of the gentlemen belonging to the

a, er. ‘

“Kegppthe ring, sir,“ said the young lady, ﬁrmly;
“ I can never wear the iii of a freebooter.

“Nay, sweet maid, t on shalt have it; and that
those sweet lips have called me a freebooter, Cupid
forehand! but I will have my revenge on them.“

As ho‘ spoke, the handsome buccan'eer. was about.
to press his bold lip to those of the fair girl, when he
received a blow u n the breast from the hitherto
inactive student. at made him stagger backward
and reel ere he could recover himself.

The student had remained, during the whole of the
foreng 538119. at; rently so enwrap d in his own
sad 0 hts echo 0 observe the even is taking Place
around in or else so reckless from inward sorrow
as tobe iudiﬂerentas tothe result. But when the
young buccaneer chief approached and addressed

he maiden he lifted his eyes and observed the in-
terview with interest. When he presented her the
gem his e as ﬂushed and the color rushed like light
mug to brows, and be instantly threw his body
forward, as if he antici ted tort or boldness, and
was prepared to defend 91‘- Scarcelglllilad the free-
booter meditated the insult in his a, when his
eye betra ed it to the student, and are he could ac.
complish  bold purpose the youth Sggmg forward,
unarmed as he we:i and, With a well- towed blow.
sent him reeling h f across the deck. ,

The buccaneer recovered his feet and surveyed his
assailant, who quietly resumed his former posture
with a steady glance of savage vindictiveness, an
then. Ola-3% his stilettO. IMDEd upon him. The old
man cans t e uplifted arm, and turned the blow
aside so critically that the weapon 11111190 Itself in
the mast by which the student was standing.

"Hold. young maul add not blood to robbery i”

. cried the gentleman, sternly. . -

 
“It is well—but be it so," he said, with a. light
laugh, drawnig forth the weapon and replacing it in
his bosom. “Young gallant, you and will meet

ain, or I know not the destiny that awaits young

ventureis like yourself in yonder city.”

The student met his menacing look with a clear,
unmoved gaze, and slightly smiled, as if in defiance.

“ The kegs are safe on board, sir,” said the lieuten-
ant of the schooner, approaching him.

“Then cast her free. Captain, 1 cannot leave you
without expressing my grief at the inconvenience I
have put you to but you perceive it could not well
be otherwise. You are at liberty to proceed. I trust
we shall have the pleasure of meeting again. Faro-
wcl], sir," ho adde , addressing the elder passenger:
“I pray you will pardon the rudeness that I medi-
tated toward your daughter.”

“Nay, she is mv niece; but—“

“ It matters not; had she been thy dau bier thou
wouldst have been less slow in protecting er. And,
lady, forgive me if thy beauty tempted me. as the
sweet ﬂower does the bee. Blame thy charms alone,
for, bad they been less rare. they would have been
less coveted."

“ All clear, captain," said the lieutenant, who
stood upon the brig‘s bulwarks, ready to swing him-
self by a sin on board the schooner; “ yonder
grou of vcssc seem to have discovered our charac-
ter, or there are tweiil y boats drop )ing from as
many stems, and full eighty men guniping into
them. We shall be cut oil by them in putting back
into the Sound."

“ We shall have to keep on through Hell Gate, and
so through into New York Bay. Let us havo a look
at these geiitlem 1)." .

He sprung into the rigging as he spoke, and, look-
ing in the direction the ieutenant was gazing, saw
that a scoro of sloops and schooners had come to
astern, as if aware of th ) situation of the brig and
suspected the profession of the vessel that lay along-
sde of her. They were huddled together, as if for
mutual protection and all their boats weie iii the
water, With from our to six men in each, armed
with pistols, muskois and cutlassos. Their attention
god movements were plainly directed toward the

rig. ' .

As the last man passed him, and leaped from the
deck upon the schooner, the brig‘s colors rose rapid-
ly to the peak, Union down. This signal of distress,
which the ca tain had too late sent up, was instant-
ly answered y a shout from the boats. which imme-

‘ately began to pull toward the two vessels.

The (yous freebooter looked asif he would have
jumpe bac upon the brig’s deck to cut the colors
down but seeing the intended object was already ef-
fected, he, the next moment, sprung upon his own
vessel, and gave rapid orders to casther off. In a
moment she swung clear from the side of the brig.
He sprung to the helm himself as she fell oi! from
the Wind and commanding, in a loud tone, every
brace and sheet to be hauled close aft, shot under
the brig’s stern. ‘

The two vessels. while together, having laid their
bows in opposite directions, had been kept very
nearly stationary by the counter action of theh' sails,
so that when they separated they were but a short
distance below the ‘Devil’s Bite," thro h which
the schooner issued to intercept the brig. t seemed
at first to be the intention of the buccaneer to at-
tempt to weather the head of the reef. and, getting
ins: e, ghee the ledge between himself and the
boats. uta moment's observation convinced him
of the impracticability of this attempt, and he was
about to turn back and encounter the boats when
his quick eye detected a deep. narrow gs in the

on line of reef, opening between two bol rocks,
ea ing from the main channel. to the inner pass.

 
He saw that the wind as it then was, would ust al-
low him to effect a passage through it. t was
scarcel two feet more than the schooner”: breadth
in widt , and failure would have been fatal.

Without hesitation, he braced his vessel as
to the wind as she could lie, and laid her course. t
was now plain, from the determined eye and ﬁrmly
compressed lips of the youn freebooter, as he bent
to t e helm, hat lie deem the situation of the
schooner a critical one, and that all his coolness and
skill were necessary to extricate her from it. The
boats, in the meanwhile, iin elled by a hundred oars,
and, with loud shouts from heir crews were pulligﬁ
up the main channel with a rapidity that promi
those who from the liberated brig e erly watched
the movements of both parties, 5 y retribution
for their robbery. -

“ Let us get t e ledge between us and the infernal
boats. and we will lau h at them," said the captainto
his lieutenant. “ If t e wind would haul so as to
give us about half a. point free, we should clear this
ugliest agar of black rock on our lee bow, and then
we shoul dance right merrily one side of the ledge
while yonder boats are pulling on the other. He
taut every brace and bowline till they 5 ring like
steel—give the canvas not an inch of p ay. pet
eve man throw his weight to leeward. how

y, there! steadyl"

“Hal we shall clear it yet," he cried, afew mo-
ments after.

The sails of the beautiful little schooner were now
drawn aft'to their utmost tension, till the lay upto
the wind like boards, and the sharp-bowe little ves-
sel, as she crept alon , seemed literally “to eat her
way to windward." s e lay within ﬁve late to the
win and ﬁt, as her ca tain lookedmabead. he
coui see t t her bowspi t was in a straight line
with the lee side of the passage, which was now not
ﬁfty yards before him. It seemed lm sible that
the schooner could clear it in safety. er speed as
she moved thron h the water was but just sufﬁcient
Dorker her obe eat to the helm. The boats in the
meanwhile were rapidly approaching. and that of
the brig was also let down and manned, to oin them
as they came up; and from the shouts of t ass that
crowded them, it was clear that they expected that
the schooner would fall short of the passage in the-

ap. This fate, indeed. seemed inevitable. She con-

'nued on, standing a few yards further, and the
practiced e e of the ca. tnin saw that she had not
0 ned a nger's breadt between the lee-rook and
t 8‘ end of the iii-boom. It was acritical moment.
For an instant t ere appeared to be no other alterna-
tive left but to go at out, and force a massage!
through the boats into the Sound, or to put awaY
before the wind, and boldly run the gantlet through
the East River. . . a
y ‘ ' \

i ‘ ~.

I ‘L '  3"}
_ g , - u

.h.‘ ,. \

 
l

l

 
The schooner was now within her length of the
passage. Another moment and it would have been
too late even to put about when, just as he arted
his lips to give the order to ack, the wind, as will-
ing to lend its assistance to so much skill and daring
haulcd a little. The schooner’s bows freely came up
to its embrace. The captain saw the opening bu-
tween the rock and lierjibhooni grow widerand wider
and the faithful little vessel, yieldin ’ to the helm,
glided into the gap betweent e roc s, which she

ust grazed with her sides as she passed them, and,

kc a bird loosed from the hand, shot out into the
channel beyond. A loud exulting shout rose from
hordecks. Sail after sail was freed from its bow-
lines and swung freer to the breeze“, and away she
went, darting and curling,r the waves before her prow,
through the “ Devil‘s Bi c," with the wind twopointii
groee am her bow, steering for the wide-spreading

nu .

.The disappointed boats, which were within an
eighth of a mile of her, saw at once that to pursue
her through the up would be useless; but, as it re
solved she shou d not escape without annoyance.
they instantly pulled in toward that part of the ledge
opposite wherclhey were, and reached it just as the
schooner w s passing b ’ on the other side. The
motley crci iiiiiiiodiittr y leaped ashore, and, cov-
ering the rocks, opened lllliJOll her a heavy discharge
of pistols, illustctry and lumtcrhussos which they
kept up, apparently \\ iihout etl'cct, until she had got
bevont reach of their lire.

‘he adventurous schooner at lenyth re-entered the
main channel, It uurtcr (if a. mile below the ﬂeet of
coasting vessels rom \iliich the boats had started
after her, and having received the tire of a swivel
from one that lay nearest to her, stood bold past
the residue of the ﬂeet, and was soon spr ' a
ﬂowing sheet in the open Sound.

CHAPTER ll.
rni-z s'runns'r. .

Tm: hosts at length returned to their respective
vessels, and the ﬂeet was once more under wa .
The iumuti-s of the brig, however, stood together n.
groups on the forecast is and quaiter-deck, discours-
ing upon the. events that had take-n place. The cap-
tain paced the deck like an insane man—now paus-
iu in his iapid walk to look sitar the receding
sc ooner, now striking his hands together in des air.
The elderly gentleman and his niece for a long ime ‘
stood att, near the (email, azin in silence upon‘
the bright speck that mar ed 1: e irate vessel,
while the young sludent remained a ewiaces oﬂ',
vazing upon the lovely, uveiwhaiiginti features of

he maiden \Vilil_b‘l]("lll udmirution. He seemed to
have forgotten the \ isit 1-1? the fi‘cehooter. and to re—
member ihat the “0th held anything else besides
the i’air creature befoi'v him. At length he turned
suddenly away. and said will y and Liitvrly: “ \‘Chere-
fore should]. gaze and drink in llll‘.(11ll‘SS from her
intoxicating beauty? I am a wanderer, llillilBlElS
and ennyli W iy should I make myself iniser-'
able y loving \\ but feel Ionly must adore {.1111' on i
It is madness and i‘ollyi IWlll Lot luik upi 11 hi r
again. M into and hers can never be linkcdi“ Bo
sighedan walked away to the fuiihcst side i f thv~
deck, and, dinning his head upon his hand, gazed
over the Lrig’s (,uuiter upon the waves that moped
to her swift pi-cgrtsts through the uuier. A hand
lightly touched iis shoulder!
roun , and the elderly gentleman stood busidr' him.

“Young man," he said, in a tone of -einle l't proof,
“I my you join my niece and myse f. Your cou-
duc int its late unpleasant uﬂair has commanded
my res vet and her gratitude. We have been three ’
days to ow- ‘asscn era, but our conﬁnement in our
state-room mm s ight sen-sickness has, until this.’
afternoon, denied us the pleasure of meeting you. I
see by your habit that you are a student."

“ 1 harc (nun. sir.” said Hayward, “ but I am one
nolonger. I beg you. Fll‘, to excuse me from soloing
your society,” he added moodily. ' v

“Nay, young antleman, Blanche desires to thank
you for your no le intezfcience in her behalf, when
you rude buccsnei r would have—- ‘

“Nay, sir. I did but punishinsolence,’ said Henry,
somewhat, abruptly.

“You are ill at ease—Blanphe shall sing for you.

“I have no car for music. I pru , 811‘, do me a
kindness—I would be left to my own i oughts. I am
unworthy your notice or or your niece’s re gard."

“ Na , you are not guilt of crime, or there is the
most f nished deception in your open features.“

“ Crimel“ he is eated with akindling eye—hotben'
directly added— ‘Yes, sir I‘ am criminal in the
world's eye—I am poor. It were better I. should be
chief of 'on crew of freehooters than a'mendicani-
student, orI did see thy niece glance with an eye or
more‘ approval than it should have had, upon the
handsome and hold hate; for woman ever loves
daring, even if couple with crime."

“You speak freely, young sir; but I forgive you
for the iioiznded spirit you seem to bear in your ,
bosom. I think it best, on the whole, as I do now eon-
strue thy feelings toward my niece, that thou
shouldst mi make her acquaintance.” .

The gentleman then turned coldl away with n
slight bend of his head and joined be young lady,
who seemed to wait with interest the result of this;~
conference. she. received it as he rejoined her, with
surprise visible on her intelligent features, and turn-
ed upon the young man a look of min led curiosity
and reproot'. He did not, however see t, for he bar.

 
turned away as. the other parted from him, mutter: I.

in : .

' %It is best it should be so. I am resolved to ban-
ish myself from all societ , untill am in the path to
honorable distinction. es, yes, the bought] unclu
thinks it best the agguaintance should not armed.
now he has divin my heart‘s secret-I—discovered
the germ of what mir In one day ripeninto love-lathe

r scholar’s breast!"

Thus sgeakin , the young man turned bitterly
away, an ace the deck apart witha moody brow,
and a rap d, nervo step. Henry Ba ward, for .
such was the name 0 the student. was t 6 son of a
clergyman in the vlcinlt of Boston. His father was.
a poor man but uiifo nater was inﬂuenced by
the false an dangerous ideas of res ecinbility that
waved so universally thro bout cw hhighndJ

- ith asalary, heretily sutﬂcien to furnish him with
the necessaries, an none of the luxuries of life, he
was tr ingtobringngafamily often child .. asif
be ten thousand oilars apiece to; leave each at

. , \

He turned quickly I'

ran, - '

q

,i

2‘.

1'.

\ \

,1,

 
4

The Sea Slipper.

 
them on arriving at age. It was his desire as he
often expressed it to his wife, that his children should
all be “ respectable.”

With this idea iiiculcated in his heart, Henry Hay-
ward became proud of the profession of his father,
that made him and his family so much more “re-
spectable " than the families of mechanics, and he
grew toward his more humble classmates proud and
arrogant, and the same false reasonin governed
when his misguided father sent him to arvard Col-
lege where, through the courtesy of the trustees he
had been enabled to attend without charge.

He entered with ease the Junior class, and his
father the ﬁrst year paid his bills: but at last there
came a split in the c iurch, the clergyman’s salary
was lowered, and he wrote his son that he could do
no more for him.

At once he determined to leave college,and packing
up his few traps, selling what thin 5 he did not need,
he bade farewell to the collegiate ails, and left for
Boston, on foot, determined to ﬁnd some employ-
ment, which his necessities forced him to do, for al-
ready had he bitterly learned in what a false school
his father had brought him up. As he could ﬁnd
nothing to do in Boston he took passage on the
bi'igaiii'ine for New York, the captain allowmg him to
go for half the regular fare.

He was at ﬁrst very moody, but soon discovered
that he was not the only passenger, for upon the
quarter-deck sat an elderly gentleman and a young
lady of rare beauty.

The heaving of the sea soon drove the young lady
and the gentleman to the cabin, and Henry Hayward
saw no more of them until the third day, when the
beauty of the Sound scenery and the balmy air lured
them on deck once more, and shortly after followed
the scene of the iracy already related.

Mr. Francis Hi ary, the elderly entleman men-
tioned was an India merchant in oston, and was

 
on the way to New York in the brigantine, which he
owned, but with the specie he had nothing to do.

He took with him his niece, for a visit to the great
metropolis, and she wasa bright, beautiful 'rl, with
a warm, impulsive heart and noble natureiE elievin
life was all it was represented in the Dove she ha
read.

Having no mother to guide her, she prepared to l
mingle in the world as if she had been introduced
into it in some golden romantic age, instead of in
these matter-of-fact days.

The brigantine now ke t on her course through
East river passed the angerous gantlet of Hell
Gate, and left the foaming waters behind her.

Henry Hayward stood alone leaning over the

uarter-rail, gazing upon the beautiful shores, and
t e tranquil inﬂuence of the hour pictured his own
peculiar condition with less somber shadows than he
ad done since leaving Cambridge.

 
CHAPTER III.
THE RESCUE.

Tm: afternoon was drawin to a close as the bean-
tiful brigantine glided alon y the green banks of
Ravenswood, the far-exten ing branches of whose
noble trees almost swept her decks. The air was
laden with fragrance, from shaded pastures that
stretched from the villas to the waters, and birds
were singing in the trees, and children were at play
on the lawns, as it successively assed them before
agentle wind that scarcely ed the limpid sur-
face of the river.

Our passengers stood upon the uarter-deck, their
senses ﬁlled with the beaut o the panorama,
through the midst of which t ey moved. The sea-
men leaned in listless, idle positions, over the bows
or Windlass, silently gazing on the ever-changing
views shoreward, and even the helmsman, at times,
forgot his duty, in the contemplation of the pleas-
ant scenes through which he was guiding his slow-
ly gliding bark. The captain, however, walked the

eck amidships, with a troubled brow and angry
impatient step, too much absorbed in the recent
singular loss of his specie to think of anything else.
He was all anxiety to reach the city to dispatch a
cutter after the freebooter; and nature wore no
charms that he could admire while in this mood.
0n the quarter—deck, near the taifrail, stood Mr.
Hillary and Blanche gazing in silent pleasure u on
the shore, and only by looks expressing their di-
tional gratiﬁcation whenfany new scene suddenly un-
folded itself to their rapt and admiring gaze. Henry
Hayward stood aloof from them, roud, cold, and
gloomy; for he felt they looked own upon him
as a poor unknown student and wanderer; and his
sensitiveness would not permit him to intrude upon
them, even at a time when all around them seemed
to invite strangers to interchange sentiments of ad-
miration. Thisausterity, however, was only out-
wardly. His spirit had partaken somewhat of the
calm and beautiful tone of nature, and he gave
himself up to the engoyment which taste an an
impassioned eye for nature now presented to him.
Each succeeding villa, With its varied grounds and
changing scenery, drew from him as he leaned over
the side opposite to that occupied b the uncle and
niece, glowing feelings of dehght. nder the inﬂu-
ence of the hour his heart grew benevolent, and
his 3 irit became more entle. _He felt his situation
less opeless than he ad beheved it to be, and
looked to the future with composure. Such is ever
the effect of the lovelier scenes of nature upon the
cultivated mind and heart. . .

They had been for some time glidin along past
a series of country seats on the Man ttan side
towarda. point that pro'ected into the river an
formed a ﬁnely-wooded eadland. Above its trees
could be seen the pinnacles and battlements of a
gothicpottarge. Which had awakened in Hayward a
cunosxtyito surve it more fully when they should
sail past it. He, 13 erefore, kept his eyes ﬁxed upon
it, and as the briglrounded the headland he was
gratiﬁed at beholding the most lovel scene that
the beauteous banks had yet presente to his View,
The headland was one arm of a. romantic basin,
about three hundred yards across, in which the
water lay still and black, from the shadows of over-
hanging rocks and trees. At_ the head of thesove,
was a curving beach of white sand, from whicha
winding1path led up the rocks to an elevated lawn,
uponw ich stood the gothic cottage, that had at.
tracted his aze further up the river, from the other
side of the eadland. Thedwelhn was of a ay-
ish brown hue, most pleasmg' to t e eye, an was
composed of a. gothic hall, With a square tower at

 
one end, and two turrets at the other. Light lat-
tices of gothic tracery ran around its Sides, sup-
ported by light stone pillars, around which Vines
were creeping to the eaves and roof. It was the
most tasteful and rural abode imaginable, “min
the style of architecture in harmony Yilth. the mm-
gled rock and woodland scene amid which it stood.

An exclamation of a rise and pleasnre broke
from Blanche Hillary an her uncle at the same
moment, and even the poor unfortunate captain
paused an instant to contemplate its . uiet beaut .

he sun was low in the west, and byi 5 level hg t
ﬂinging its parts into dark shadows and hightening
its effect.

“How romantlcl" exclaimed Blanche, I as she
thought of knights and tournaments, in assomation
with the gothic character of the ediﬂce.

“ A ﬁne seat, and convenient to the city for busi-
ness,”observed Mr. Hilla , who, like a true mer-
chant, had an eye to ut' ity in every thing that
ministered to luxury or taste.

“ I wonder,” was the idea in the head of the poor
captain, “if it was sold, if it would bringas much
mone as those infernal pirates have robbed me
of;" or the unhap yman had no other thought
than What ultimate y bore upon his great loss; not
that he himself had to lose he money, for he had
witnesses to this effect, as well as the certiﬁcate of
the freebooter, of the piracy~ but he felt sore that
he should have suffered his bl" to have been board-
ed and plundered in open day in sight of a hundred
other sail, Without being able to offer any resistance,
or intercept him in his retreat.

Henry’s emotions, however. partook on] of the
ﬁner impressions of taste. The effect of t 6 whole
lovely scene before him, was like that of music
when it touches the heart. He contemplated it
with feelings of guiet joy, yet ‘si‘ had that earth
was all so beauti ,and not for im. His atten-
tion was at length 'verted from the mansion to a
small skiff, containing a beautiful boy, about nine
years old, and a lovely little girl of seven, who had
just put 03 from the steps at the foot of the wind-
ing] path, to recover a miniature boat, which a
lig tpuﬂ of wind had borne beyond their reach
they were sailing it along the ebbled bank. T e
boy had a paddle and handle it very skillfully,
and soon came up with his boat, and recovering it,
turned it shoreward. He then looked up in tri-
umph, and taking off his cap, unloosin a cloud
of brown ringlets in the act he hurraed a the brig,
and then taking his ddle, boldly directed his
pretty green amted 5 it! toward her, the little
girl clapping or hands, aplparently delighted at
he idea of getting on boar the b g vessel which
was so near them. The water was still and deep,
and Hen , feelin alarmed for their safety if they
should vance urther, waved them bac . The
boy promptly obeyed the signal, and putting down
his paddle, sat beside his sweet litte passenger,
while the skiff ﬂoated still on the water, and with
animated looks and gestures, was directing her at-
tention to the various parts of the vessel.

All at once a lungs was heard in the water and
Henry looking n the direction of the sound, saw a
large ewfoundland dog, Which had been laying on
the beach watching the sports of the children, im-
patient at their long stay out upon the water, had at
ength jumped in to swim towards them. With
strong strokes of his huge paws the animal rapidly
approached the boat, encouraged to advance by the
ho , who no sooner saw him coming, than he called
to im with childish delight, and shouted and clap-
ped his hands. Henry watched the progress of the
animal with some interest as he made directly for
the boat, and with a half-formed apprehension that
he might in some way do them injury. This fear was
increased when he saw the little girl lean over the
side of the boat and stretch out er chubb white
arm;J to clasp him, when he should get wit ‘ her
rea .

The dog soon reached the skiff, for it was not more
than twenty yards from the shore, and about fifty
from the bri ,and Henry’s heart leaped into his throat
as he saw t e huge animal, after swimming once
round the boat, place one of his huge paws upon the
gunwale and de ress it fearfull own toward the
water‘s edge, w 'e the boy, w th the thoughtless-
less of his years, was leanin over and gras ing his
shaggy mane to try and lift im into the fun boat.

e felt his agprehensions were about to be
realize ,unless the o ’s well-known sagacity should
lead him to discover t e danger he
withdraw his aw. The brig was 5 ding away, and
the eyes of 0th Mr. Hillary an his niece were
turned in the same direction, with their minds agi-
tated by the same fears for the children’s safety
that Henry experienced.

“Let the dog go, my little fellow," he shouted'
“he Willupset your boat. Release him, or heWill
draggou into the water."

“ wn sir, down,” cried Blanche, in an energetic
tone of alarm to the dog, who was ap arentl con-
sciousoof the mischief he was doln , an im 'ately
115188.8ng his hold upon the si e of the skiff, he
dropp into the water, and dr god with him the
boy who had “not yet releasedaﬁis graspu n his
use . The united weight of the dog and t eboy,
as he was drawn over the side into the water, in-
stantly caused the boat to ﬁll, and sink beneath
them, leaving the three struggling in the water.
Hayward had witnessed the whole from the deck
of the b , and havin already anticipated such a
catastro 6, prepared imself to leap into the water.
Before, owever, he made the spring from the deck,
his ears were penetrated by a wild shriek from the
shOre; and, looking towards it, he saw, dashing
down the pathwa to the beach, a young 811'] 0“
horseback, whom y her .dress he recognized as one
whom he had seen, through the openings in the
trees riding along the road on the other side of the
headland. He could now see, before he sprung,
that she was young, beautiful, and bonnetless—that
her dark hair and am le robes Wildly waved in the
wind, as she dashed own the precipice. The next
instant he was buﬂeting the waves in the direction
of the suﬂerers. The boy, as the boat sunk, clung to
the dog, who would have made for the shore, but for
the voxce of the little girl, who, buoyed up by her
frock, cried touchingly.

“N ep., Nep., don’t swim away, and let me drown."
The dog seemed to understand her, and tu
back, swam toward her, the little follow on hisne
astting his progress by striking out with his disen-

But them in, and

 
g'aged arm all the time encouraging his little sister,
who was fast settling beneath the surface as her
arments became more and more saturated. The
goung lady on reaching the water side dashed fear.
essly in a mountedas she was, and pressing her
spirited orse till he was swunming, urged him in
t e direction of the children, The intelligent animal
seemed to understand her Wishes, and yielding him-
self to her guidance, soon approached the stru ling
children; while the fealrhess girl, forgetful of 5 else
save their imminent pe ' encouraged them by ' Dice
and gesture to hold but ill ‘she could reach t eln.
Henry was already near the little girl, whom her
brother once caught by the bright tresses as she was
sinking, but had to release, as er additional weight
drew both him self and the do beneath the water.

“Oh, sir, save my little sis er," he said, as Henry
(siwam! near. “0h! sir, she‘s sinking; she‘s gone

own "

“Save the child, oh, save herl" cried the young
gr], yet several yards distant, seein it disappear.

enry was some feet off from the ‘ttle gir when
he saw her sink, and replied to her passionateen-
treaty by instantly diving beneath the surface; The
maiden checked the regress of her swimming
gorse, and gazed breat lessly u on the spot where

e and the 'ttle girl had gone own. There was a
moment of terrible suspense, the waves arted,
and Henry rose to the surface with the chil in his
arms.

“ ’ hank God! Annette is saved i” cried the maiden,
clasping her hands in gratitude. “ Can you swim to
the shore with her?“ H

“With ease," he replied; “ but I beseech you have
regard for your ownsagety. Your horse show si
of im attence and, if e should throw you, co' (1
have ut one.’

“Then let it not be me, but the dear child,” she
answered turning the horse’s head toward the
shore. ‘ Are you safe with good old Neptune,
Eddy?" she said, looking at her brave httle bro-
ther, who, with one arm about the dog‘s neck, kept
himself above water, as the sagacxous dog, on see-
ing the other child rescued by Henry, turned and
swam steadily toward the land.

“Yes, perfectly, sister. Neptune would never let
me drown, and would have saved sister also, but she
was too fat and heavy for him."

“ I beg of you mis, attend to your safety," cried
Henry seeing that her horse was fati ed and re-

eatedly plunged his head beneath e surface;

‘ your brother is well cared for, and soon will reach
the shore with the noble dog‘s aid and I will says
this sweet child I hold on my arm. Heed your own
safety, I implore on; and give your whole atten-
tion to guiding an encouraging your horse.”

This cautionary advice was needed by the young
girl, who, now that the imminent danger was pass-
ed, had lost something of that hold energy and
fearlessness of spirit which, on descrying her bro-
ther and sister’s danger from the lawn, which she
had 'ust reached after returning from her ride, had
insp red her to risk her own life in the effort to
save theirs. Her horse, which a beautiful light-
limbed bay, full of blood and SR was fast giving
wa under the unaccustomed exertion of swimmigﬁ
wit a rider u on his back; and though he struggl
to sustain be h himself and his mistress, his fre-
quent muscular efforts to keep his head above the
water, betrayed his rapidly increasing exhaustion.
Henry who with an eye of anxious solicitude for
the fa e of the lovely,- self-sacriﬂcing girl, had ob«
served all this as he swam shorewar with his own
almost insensible burden, at length seeing that the
home would drown himself, was about to swim to
his bit, when he saw her disengage her heavy skirt
from her waist, and leave the saddle, With a‘hand
on the rein. The horse was for an instant reheved,
and turned his head toward the shore. But the
youn girl, unable to swim and dragging With a
dead eavy weight at his bit. drew head under
water, and thrice nearly sunk herself beneath the
surface. Henry, alarmed lest the animal should
strike her with his hoofs cried to her earnestly to
quit her gras and he won (1 save her.

“ No, no; nnette, save Annette and leave me to
my fate," she cried; and releasing her hold upon the
horse’s bit, she let him swim free. Henry, however.
had already formed his plan of action, and as the
horse dpassed near him on his way to the shore, he
place Annette in the saddle, fastening her light er-
son to the horn by a ﬁrm turn of her dress aroun it,
and then swam toward the generous girl, the exhi-
bition of whose noble s irit had in ired him with a
determination to save er or peris with her. She
had already sunk twice, and rose again to the sur-
face, and was a third time descending, with a look of
perfect consciousness, when he reached her, and
caught her hand as it was passing from his sight.
he raised her to the surface insensible, and entwin-
ing one of her arms around his neck, and encirchn
her sli ht ﬁgure with a strong arm, he struck on
towar the land.

The brig by this time had been brought to, at a
great distance from the spot, her boat let down, and
was now rapidly approac mg. Henry however, on
calculating the space, found he could reach the
shore before the boat could come up to him, and
kept swimming steadilion. He saw with jo that
Neptune had knded Wit his charge, and stoo shak-
ing the waerNm his sides, and that the horse had
already touched the beach, where several members
of the family who had ﬂown down to the spot. re-
leased him from the sweet and almost lifeless bur-
den he had safely borne to land. _

“ Can you bear up, sir?” anxiously inqmred 8' 88n-
tleman from the beach, whom Henry sup osed to be
the father of the young children and e maiden;
“we have no boat, and can only aid you With 0111‘
pro ers.” .

“ think Ican, sir," answered the gallant sw1m-
mer, with ho e, yet faintly; “ but I am: indeed. fast
becomin ex ousted." ,

“Hoi t e boat! Row foryom: lives, men!” shout-
ed the gentlemau; and all With him who stood on the
shore added their voices. _ .

“ If on could send the dog again into the water
sir. T e boat is too far off to reach me before
could get to the shore." \ ‘

“Ho, Neptune! to the water! To his aid noble

' him to take the

dog,” cried the gentleman, urging
at fault to ascertain what duty was

water to Henry’s assistance.
The dog, ﬁrs _
required of him, was at length guided by Henry, who

 
‘ He

, manner, and was about to spea

The Sea. Slipper.

. . 5

 
called to him, and immediate] plunged in, and swam
toward him. Henry was nowﬁi 1 ton ards from the
shore and had become so exhausted y his revious
exertions, and the weight of his lovely bu en, that
he was incapable of swimming any further; and
when the dog reached him he was employed only in
buoying. himself up, and lice ing the head of the
young . r1 above the water. be intelligent animal
swam irectly to her side, and fastenin his lar e
large White teeth in the sleeve of her bah t, instant y
relieved Henry of half the weight he had to support.
With afeeling of gratitude for this timelv aid, he
placed one arm of the young girl over Neptune‘s

road neck and thus aided, swam toward the shore
with her. With what intense and absorbing solicitude
was every inch of their progress watched by the
anxious group on the beach. The gentleman who
had sent in the dog now waded up to his neck, and
with a joyful cry, which was _echoed by all resent,
extended his arms and received his dang ter, as
her exhausted deliverer laced her within his reach.
At the same instant, the out which had been row-
ing to their relief came up, but its aid was no longer
required. All, lately in so great peril, were saved
by the coolness and courage of the oung student!
On resi 'n his. charge to her father‘s arms, the
energy t at ad inspired him to such supernatural
efforts deserted him and he would have sunk but for
the aid of Neptune, to whose mane he clun , until
the faithful dog dragged him to the beach. ﬁere he
was received b a group of grateful and admiring
persons: and lttle Annette, ale but smiling, was
placed in his arms by her a y mother. Eddy
also, clambered up to embrace and for a mo-
znent_Henry forgot his fatigue in t 0 joy his per-
severlng courage had produced. For an instant the
father and the daughter seemed forgotten, in their
gratitude to their preserver. Colonel Powel, aided

y others, had, however, soon succeeded in recover-
ing his child from her insensibility, when, after be-
ing perfectly sensible, she looked round for her bro-
ther and sister.

“ Oh,'are they safe? Edward—Annette."

Sprin forward, with a large Indian shawl
wrappe round her as a substitute for her skirt, she
embraced them; and then taking both Henry’s
hands in her own, she pressed them warml , and
said to him, With a deep feelin —“God in seven
bless you, generous stranger! have no words to
thank the preserver of my life, and that of in bro-
ther and sister. 80 noble a spirit as yours w ﬁnd
itsthigher reward in the contemplation of its own
ac .
nry colored with ingenuous modesty at her en-
thusiasm of gratitude, and, as he looked into her
pale but lovey countenance, he thought he had
never beheld a f e so beautiful and intellectual.
His heart acknow edged the power of darker eyes
than he had ever looked into and he felt he would
willingl have lost his life to have saved that of one
so love . Colonel Powel now advanced and em-
braced m, and after overwhelming him with his
gratitude, insisted on his going to the house and
changing his dress.

“I thank .ou, sir " said Hayward; “ butthe brlg‘s
boat is wai ng, an I cannot detain the vessel. I
am happy to feel that I have been the instrument,
under rovnience of saving lives so precious. Noble
Neptune, also, we 1 deserves our thanks for with-
out his assistance I fear the right-eyed boy would
have been drowned."

“ To your coolness, perseverance, and ju out,
all is owing," answered the grateful Ca erine
Powel,” “forIfeel I should have been lost but for

our self- ion. Indeed, sir, you must not
eave a family you have made so happy i"

“Thatis ht, Kate," said Colone owel, smiling,
“ we must ta e possession of him.”

“Yes, you must come,” cried Edward, grasping
his hand, and pulling him along.

“ You can‘t go now," cried li tie Annette, drawing
him by the other hand.

“ You see you are taken captive,” said Kate, who
could hardly escape from the embraces of the grate-
ful friends who gathered around her, to speak to

m.

“Indeed I cannot acce t your kind invitation,”
said Henry; “ I must now save in the boat." ,

“But you will take cold," said the generous Kate
Powel, who had begun to feel a deeper interest than
gratitude in her young preserver.

“ If you will excuse me, I shall esteem it a favor,"
he answered, his sensitive mind shrinking from their
expressions of gratitude; besides his ride made him
fee too keenly his verty and iso ted condition,
to suﬂer himself to e egg-sod to the. mortiﬂcation
of ultimately llavin to owledge it; for he knew
they would wish to now something about him, and
he felt he could give no account of himself that
would increase their regard for the disgraced stu-
dent. '

He, therefore, resolutely determined to break
frOm them, and forget the service he had done,
though his heart told im, as he looked at the love-
ly face of Kate Powel, that he should never be able
toerase from his memo the bright ima e indeli-
bly impressed there. 'II‘Ze rose had ﬂed rom her
cheek, and her dark brown hair was heavy with
Water, but even these disadvantageous Circum-
stances under which he beheld her, could not lessen
the interest of her beauty; nor the am le India-n
shawl in which she was wrap ed conceal t e symme-
try of her ;_or the w ri ing gloves covering
them, hide t a fair proportions of a erfect hand.

“Yon will, at least. certainly visit). us to-morrow
from the city." she said. seeing he was decided in

, his refusal to 80 up to the house, whither Eddy and
Annette had already been taken forward by their
‘ nurses and mother. ,

“ Give me your address. if, ‘ said Colonel Powel,
“ zlifnd I will send my carnage for you; nay, go my-
se .”

“My address," thought Heniz. Col. Powell:
words painftu imlpressm upon mind the lone-
linens of his condit on. on he answered bit 1y:

“Itis of no co uence, sir. I may no remain
in My York. 2'33» me now to take my leave of
you.

. Colonel Powel regarded him for an instant with an
inquiring glance, as if struck by‘ the sadness of his

when his daughter,
in whom his manner had awakened sympathy, tak-

ing Henry’s hand, said, with generous frankness:

You will, at least, give us your name, that we

;

 
may often speak it; for, I assure you, it will never
be orgotten by us."

“It were better lady on should forget one who
may never prove so worthy of remembrance,"
lie answered, sadly; “but I feel that I can never

or et

T is look and low impassioned tone with which
he said these few words, caused the maiden to drﬁp
her eyes, and the color to enrich her cheek. e
pressed her hand hastily to his lips ere she could re-
cover from her pleased surprise, and springing into
the boat, be was rapidl borne away from the spot
where he felt he had 1e t his heart.

Colonel Powel looked after him with an expression
of surprise at conduct he could not account for, and
feeling upon his mind a load of obligation to the
moody, yet gallant stranger, he did not like to leave
this uncanceled; and he immediately resolved to
seek him out and if poor and unfortunate, but sen-
sitively pron , to oﬂer him assistance; but if other-
wise to bring him into intimacy with his family,
and b kindness and courtes in part repsy him for
what e had so disinterested} done for m.

“ A strange youn man, te," he said, looking
after him, as the boa reached the brig with him.

His daughter started, and the quick hue of her
cheek betra ed the key of her thoughts. Her
8 es bad to owed the receding boat, and as the
d stance widened between her and her preserver,
she felt that there was a cord drawn u on in
her heart that she had never felt before. on ,
at this eriod was in his twentieth year, ta 1,
and ﬁne y m o, with a dark, intelli ent, expressive
face; a clear hazel e e, a gracefu carriage, and
sin arly gentleman y air. His appearance was
stri 'ng, and calculated, under less interesting cir-
cumstances than the existing ones, to reduce an
impression u n the heart of a susceptib e and en-
erous-spirite irl like Kate Powel. She was ust
entering her e ghteenth year, and with a heart as
full of tenderness and sensibility as a woman‘s could
well be, until this hour she had not known the sweet
sym ethics of love. it was for Henry Hayward,
aide by an extraordinaig train of circumstances, to
kindle within her youn eart the ﬁrst spark of ten-
der aﬂection. As the rig which had. received her

reserver kept on her course, she felt, indeed, that it

ore awa her heart with 'it.

Long a e gazed after it, as it moved along the
shore, fast losin itself beyond the trees that lined it;
and when, at engtb, her royal was only visible
above them she could not turn away her longing
eyes, though her father took her arm, and entreate
her to hasten to the house to change her wet gar-
ments for dry ones.

“ One moment, sir, but a moment longer," said
she entreat y.

“'What has ewitcbed you, Kate!“ he asked, af-
fectionately, yet playfully. “ Has the bri carried
your wits away? Come, you will take col ." ,

“ But one instant, father! There, it has nearly dis-
a pearedl Itis gone!" And she sighed as she took

s arm.

Colonel Powel was not so dull as not to rceive
the eﬂect the young stran 1' bad produc on her
mind; but be was ignoran of its true nature, and at-
tributed altogether to gratitude what he should have
also given the little blind god credit for. He, how-
ever, very sensibly thought that the feeling might,
on further acguaintance with the gallant youth, be-
comechangf for a tenderer one, inasmuchas be
well knew at gratitude is cousin-german to love.
He therefore questioned her, as they ascended tothe
on e anxious to devise from her replies whether
he be best ursue his intention of discovering the
young gen eman, or leave him in that unknown
state in which he seemed so moodin desirous to re-

main.

“What do you think of the young man, Kate?"be
asked carelessly. .

“He is noble, lgenerous, and brave, father," she
answered, warm y. “But for him, I—aud perhaps
Annette—would have been lying in the depths of
yonder dark basin."

“ He acted strangely in declining our hospitality,
and seemed to scorn our very words of gratitude.
Did on not think so i"

“ e shrunk from our overwhelming expressions of
thankfulneas. father, with the sensitiveness of a

mug and modest spirit. I like him the better for

s. I
“ Then you like him a little, boy?” he said, smil-

"Howcan I help lik the silent reserver f
gyd life. He is worthymgf allgour hgart’s gra\ti-
e I

“So he is, my child, and I hope we all feel truly
“ngmpifﬂyidgiiatlfimnsibi t to “said th

e s on e se e no e warm-
hearted girl. ’

“I wonder who he is? Did you observe that he
seemed to be particularly desirous of concealing his
address in the city? This is at least very singular."

"No, sir. He may be, as Ibelieve he really s poor
—tbough gentlemanlgin his address and 100 s. I
judged so from his ress, which I saw was much
worn and that of a Harvard student, for, when I
was in Boston, I often saw students wearing a
similar costume.“ 4

“But poverty should not make him ashamed to
be known, as he evidentlg desired not to be. I sadly
fear there is ginlt couple with his mists ."

As Col. Powel gave utterance to t is i ea, which
in truth be had half believed, for otherwise he could
not, to his own mind, account for his anxiety to su .
gross his address be closely watched the face of hgs

aughter to see the eﬂect of it u n her; for he had
ken it as much to feel the p of her regard for
18331 as to express his own suspicions.

“Guilt sir!" she repeated with arglowing cheek,
turning ei- clear dark eyes rangi full u n her
father, and which he saw ﬂashed th in gnation
at the suspicion, and betrayed to his pens ting
32mm" "'22 “3? this“? "ti““‘i%”i’$it

rous s ; can 0 o
' use be ai':‘:{icv‘;ith that o ﬁrew aside

from'h'is humani urage wh oh no man
could possess an exhibit so 11de and gallerith
ltlethhas' done? Out upon the tgought, my 861'
a er.‘ * ‘

“I fear he is an adventurer, Oath ' ; the more
Ithinku n e mvo‘ lrneveh
theless hgohal my “$38” ' gigs ‘ I

“He my beer adventurer! uen'w nil adven-
. . ‘ V ‘ \ .

,V _\ _-
, ’ ,\,z,, . . t
i "l . V’ ‘i "'
. . 3, ..;

turers, sir, when they first enter life. If you mean
by an adventurer, that he is a young man without
means just entering the world to make the living
which 'Providence has demanded of all, then he may
be an adventurer and as such, commands our
s pathies and iii . But if you would infer, father,
t at he is a criminal, every pulsation of my heart
tells me it is false."

“You are a noble girl,.Kate, and I love you for
your liberal and elevated views; I honor your

ut I fear you have let mere ggatitude enlist your
feelings too strongly in one w o is so utterly un-

‘known. Circumstances only have made him, in-

stead of another, your delivei-er. Suppose a common
sailor from the brig had done the same."

gratitude, sir.“

Catherine’s long eye—lashes fell till they shaded
her blushing checks, at the consciousness that her
father possessed the knowledge of her true feelin s.
She was saved the difﬁcult of making any rep y,
as they had now reached e door of the cottage,
before which stood her dripping p0n¥, and Ne tune
intelligently receiving the caresses o the fam an
servants; while the hilarious Edward and little
Annette half dressed in dr .clothes, bounded forth
to meet her, and ask, With isappointed looks, after
the handsome and brave young gentleman that had
saved their lives.

Henry had indeed made a great sacriﬁce to his
pride and sensitiveness. when he declined to mingle
with the grateful and hap y fannl from whom 's
courage and humanity h averte the dark cloud
of three—fold death.

CHAPTER IV.
A smells AND Amurr.

IT was already night when. the brigantine came
near the city and sailed along past the serried tiers
of shipping, t at stretched from the Battery a league
eastward. Hayward was leaning over the uarter-
rail, watching the effect of the long vistas 0 street-
lam 5, opening and shutting upon his view, one after
ano (liar, as the transverse streets were successively

se .

%e he stood watching the novel scene andlis-
tening to the roar of wheels, which like the contin-
uous reverberation of distant thun er was borne oi!
from the shore to his ear, min led with-the voices of
men, the idea of his own lone‘ ness, where so many
of his fellow-beings were congregated, came over
him, and he felt a nful sinking of the heart. He
contemplated sa y his own condition, destitute of
friends, without any money or the means to obtain
it—an educated gentleman with the osition of a
beggar! His thoughts then reverted the lovely
an spirited girl whose life he had been instrumental
in saving; and, in the bitterness of his soul, h
cursed the lot which denied him the articipation 0
her societ and that of her rate 111 fami , and
which be] up an insurmountab e barrier to t e pro-
gress of that deep love for her which had taken pol-
session of his bosom.

“ No, no! I am oor and outcast—a common ad-
venturer! she is rch, bi hbred, and aristocratic;
why should I think of her chance has made me the

reserver of her life: why shouldIavail myself of
{his circumstance, to dwell, till despair take the
place of reason, upon the richness of the treasure
which I may never possess? No, no! I will forget
llerl Another, not I, must win and wear her. "

He sighed, at the same instant a hand was lightly
laid upon his arm. Turning] quickly, he behe be-
side him Blanche Hillaig, w ose form was not to be
mistaken even in the arkness that enveloped the

tone of in th , for which he felt grate but
ranch hixengiaﬂvg pride would not let him amcklhow-
e.

"‘BYoun men are often so " he replied in an lily-
assumed ne of playfulness: “their feelings are an-
' thusiastic, and as easily do ressed as excited. It| is
the long experience and t e philosophy that come‘
with maturer manhood, I conceive, which makes
men cheerful."

“But youth is not aipt to be misantbro ic sir,"
she replied in a low kin tone that touche him by
its sweetness; “I perceive in our brief voyage, that
you shun intercourse with those around yo who
would cheerfully contribute to your happiness. our
noble conduct this afternoon ha commanded my
esteem, and my uncle‘s admiration: besides, I have

oils: to tﬁwlédygu for our interference in my be-,

a s e a e warm y. ,

“ at I did in your behalf, Miss Hillary,” said
Hayward, coldly, “ was what every other gentleman
should have done; what I have performed worthy

of this expression of your esteem, this afternoon,

was butan act of humanity. Every man similarly
situated, would have done the same. Did on not
see that even the dog, himself, nobly work to the

same end? No lady, I have done nothing worthy of
praise of s c .” , ‘

“ Indeed, sir,” said Blanche, lau hing, “ on are
incorrigible. I like your temper but don ti 6 your
humor. How can a oung gent eman amuse himself
with so much solitu e as you covet? My uncle waits
on the other side of the deck for me to bring you
there. If we stagulon or it will look hkeatete-a-
tete. Come, Sir igh of the gloomy brow,” and

in placing her arm in his, 9 6 would have con-

ucted to her uncle, who, interested in him for
his gallantry of conduct, which he had witnessed,
had a mind to put sundry New En land interroga-
tions to him touching his birth, con ition in life, and
family connections, But
destitution and friendliness, made him proud all
suspicious, instinctively feared something of this
natiire, andmhghtly1 disenga ed hirmg'om his. ”
rs you 0 regar me a Hillary
he dhg'stil , “that you will tmetoremoln
by myself. a few minutes we shall leave the vas-
sel and never meet sin.”
“ Notso good sir den ,” she said, in a tone of
1,8.uth0ri ; “ you must call and see me at my
use e's, in Bl or street, No. —-. My uncle will be
glad to see you. You will e me our address."

“I—I-that is, I believe at I all make no stay
\in the city," answered the poor Henry, with embar-

 
rassment. ,
“ t031a. ’if you go from New York at once, I shall rer
8T9 ‘ i . ‘

.1 .r .7

ﬁenerous gratitude for the preserver of your life. '

“He would have been equally entitled to my,.

eck.
“ You are gloomy and silent, sir,” she said in a low-

Hayward, whose poverty ‘ . I j

6

The sea Slipper. J

 
M_A_k____._-_._.__ "‘4, ,4. . -l ___.-..l__.._..._..____ ,Al,_,_ W

“ You regret it, Miss Hillary," repeated the young
man with surprise. “ What intercsn can you feel in
a nameless wanderer?"

“That of sym athy, sir," she said, foolingly. “I
have a true know edge of your position," she added,
in a low tone, “much as your pride would disguise
it. You are, forgive the word, it is a harsh one, but
I mean it kindly—you are poor I”

The blood mounted to the young man‘s brow, and
he felt a mingled Sensation of anger and shame.

“Yes, Mr. Havward, 1 had a. cousin who was a
student. mid cast upon the world, friendless and pen-
niless. You have reminded me of him constantly. I
sympathize with you. The vessel aﬁproaches the
wharf; we soon separate. Receive t is as a slight
memorial of our short pgssage together, and of my
gratitude for your in rferencc in behalf of my
wounded delicacy. My uncle callsi Good-night."

As the enthusiastic, onerousﬁiet romantic Blanche
Hillary 8 aka. she le t a sma packet in his hand,
and hasti y left him, to rejoin her father.

“How has she discovered my poverty?" thought
Henry, to whom it did not occur. hat ’ his thread-
bare and povegy look were not sufﬁcient to betray
him, that she ght have gathered the facts from
the captain. to w iom he had confessed it, on taking
passage. He felt mortiﬁed; and half suspecting the
contents of the folded linger, he approached the bin-
nacle and o ened it. o s surprise and confusion,
it containe a bank note for twent dollars. His first
impulse was to cross the deck an return it to her,
for his pride shrunk at receiving such adonation
at the hand ofa young lady. 0n approachian the
spot where she had rejoined her uncle, he ound
5 ie had just retired with him to the cabin. He was
about to follow, when it occurred to him that he
would have a better opportunity of doing so, when
she came out to go on shore, as the vessel was now
already at the pier. At length she came up attired
1‘0 1' the-shore, and leaning on her uncle’s arm. Hen-
ry availed himself of an opportunity aﬂorded by
her uncle‘s leaving her a moment to see about his
baggage. to approach her as she stood at the gang-
w.t .

‘ Miss Hillary, I know not how you have discovcr~
ed, unless aided by tho tact and penetration of your
sex, the povert of which I confess myself guilty.
You say truly, am pool- ! but my pride an: iudc-
pendence remain, and you must therefore pardon
me for declining your noble and generous donation.
I return it to you with the assurance that you will
forever be gratequ remembered 2) me."

“ you do wrong, r. Hayward," 5 c said frankly;
"this is false pride. and not manly independence;
there is no loss of self-respect involved in accepting

“ YetI must be excused from doing it,” he said
decidedl ; and ilacing the envelope with its con-
tents in er ban , be tefullgrﬁiressed it, and turn-
ed away. She woul have 0 owed him to have
forced it upon him, when Mr. Hillary came up to
escort her on shore.

“Good-night, Mr. Hayward," said the merchant,

i who saw by the deck lantern that Henry was stand-

ing near; “bid him good-oi ht, Blanche."

‘Good-night, sir, said lanche, in a tone that
Hayward felt conve ed rcproof: and he followed
them withohis eyes t' they entered a carriage that
stood waiting for them on the ier.

“ Never before did I so keei y feel the de~radation
and humility of poverty.” he said bitter , as the
hack drove oil, separating, as it were, the ink that
bound him to any of his 5 cies. “Low, low, in-
deed, has that young man alien, who excites the
benevolence of a beautiful girll pitiful indeed is his
condition to become the object of a youthful
maiden‘s charity] 0h, poverty, poverty, thou art a
bit}? draugnti‘ he m l f

' , are sto c c gangway,,sir,“ snit one o
the sgllors roughly, as if a passenger had no business
on board a vessel after she had got to port.

The hint roused him; and, after going down to his
berth. and taking from it a small bundle, tied in a
handkerchief, he returned on deck and. went on
shore. As his foot left the vessel’s deck, he felt like
leaving his only shelter on earth, and he touched t..e
wharfwith a sensation of deathly loneliness that
caused him to lean for support aﬁnst 8. st. Bis
situation now forced itself upon ‘ min in all its
painful features. A wanderer upon the world’s
Wide manor, without friends, money or means, Wth
perhaps a blighted name at home and at college,
which might ollow him and prevent him from enter-
ing successfully into any pursuit. But what pursuit
was he ﬁt for. His father had given him no trade.
and his habits at college, and the condition of life in
which he ha'dlmoved. unﬂtted him for useful labor.
He felt he was as helpless as a child, and tears
ﬂowed as freely from hls eyes as ever they did in
childhood. ,

The bitterness of grief will at length exhaust it-
self. The sorrow Of his heart had found vent, and

‘ reﬂection, and the mental formation of plans for the

future, as well as for the present action, took the
place of ho less dos iondency. He roused himself
and looke, round. he ier was nearly deserted,
and the silence on boar< the dark ships around,
broken only by the trend of the watchmen on their
{leeks}i told him that he had been standing there a
ong

me, and so lost in his own sad meditations, as v

to be insensible of the passage of time, and uncon- ‘

scious of what was passing around him. Slowly he
now took his way u the Wharf; and, guided a
dim lamp that stoo at the head of it found s
way into Front street, at the foot of Maiden lane.
Ignorant of the metropolis and having no correct
iuea where he was, he too his uncertain way up
Maiden lane, in search of somelod ‘ng place for the
ni ‘nt that might suit his narrow ances, which, in
he found amounted to just one dollar and thirty-
two cents. . wardrobe was on his back, save
a shirt, 9. pair of stockings, and two collars
which his lltt e bundle contained; so narrowl ha
he reduced himself to pa 'as many of his debts as
possible by the sale of 5 effects, before leavino
Limbn‘ e. As he walked along the dimly lighted
streets, passing numerous drinking rooms and
cavernous oyster cellars that hned the walk, he came
to a dark alley, where was a sort of combined tavern
and bar-room, with a victualing Cellar beneath and
in the window of which was stuck 8 min, siwni ymg
that “Grantee! Lodgings” were to be. ad there at
“12k: cents’per night.” After hesitation a moment

“annulus pride and purse, he opened the narrow, ‘ awn." v

i

‘he wasa thick-set fellow, about t rty years of age,

 
greasy door and entered. The tap-room, in\ which

he found himself, was small. and crowded with men,
drinking and smoking and pla 'ng at dominoes. On
one side was a bar, be ind wh ch stood a thin, s -
featured, black-eyed woman, with her hair profuse

curled no the side of her cheeks, and an old cap stuc

on the back of her head. Hayward‘s entrance drew
no one‘s notice save that of her (Luick and restless eye.
He stood a moment surve t 6 scene of low and
vicious life, into which 0 d intruded, and was
about to turn away to seek at least less disgusting
quarters than those promised to be, when she spoke

to him:

“ So, Mister—we have as 00d liquors and ' are
as any of our betters, and ' you want food or ed
you may go further and fare worse. What shall i
help you to l” and taking a dirty tumbler from which
a negro had just drank gin, she held it in her hand.
read to wait his bidding.

“ othin , I thank on," answered Hayward,
scarcely ab e to conceal s disgust.

“Then what the d—«l are you doing in here, with
your black coat and shabby gentility 9“ she demand-
ed, angril . “ Come! drink, orgive room for others.”

“ I was ooking for lodgings,” interposed the em-
barrassed Hayward, who saw that her language had
drawn the eyes of two or three upon them; and as
he s who he turned to go.

“ odgings, hey!" repeated the hostess, in a less
angry tone than she had before spoken; “ well then,
if you can pay for them you can stay. I can ﬁnd
you a clean bed and a single one at that, being as
vou look as if you had been used to such things.
Will on 0 up now?"

“ es believe Iwill," said Hayward aftera. mo-
ment’s hesitation, thinking for one night he might
put up with inconvenient accommodations; resolv-
ing during the next day to look out for something
more congenial with his taste. But he had to learn
that in a large city poverty is most always the baud-
maid of squalidness and vice; that to ve oor one
must live amid dirt and moral de radation. be ten-
ement in which he was, was an 01 wooden structure,
and an air of slattem debauchery prevaded it. A
citizen would have suspected a bad character to be-
long to the house, and would not have trusted him-
self there; but Hayward knew nothing of New York
or its varied scenes.

“ Will you take a drink, before you bunk}? asked
a man, coming 11 and laying his hand familiarly on
Ho. word's shou der.

oyward started, and, lookin at him, saw that
with a red. bushy beard. and small, keen eyes, but
with a pleasant smile as he spoke, which dis layed
line white teeth. His costume was half naut cal so
far as a seaman’s round jacket and checked 8
went; but he wore a second-hand Leary’s beaver,
with a rakisb air, and straps to his pantaloons,
which were cut aiter fashion, over a pair of fash—
ionable high-bee ed boots, 5 lit out at the sides, and
also much run down in the eel. In his hand 110 car-
ried an ebony stick with a silken tassel, and on the
little ﬁnger of the right hand was a huge seal ring.
His voice, as he spo ‘e was friendly and familiar,
and remarkably pleasant in its tones. rlibero was
something both repulsive and pre assessing about
him, Hayward fe t, however, no 5 osition to cul-
tivate his acquaintance, and. answer coldly:

“ No, sir, I seldom drink. I have just lan ed from
a brig from Boston and need sleep.

“ A vessel from Hostonl” repeated the man, quick-
ly, “ what is her name?"

‘The Ariel."

The man started, with a look between surprise and
pleasure, and, after a momen t‘s close scrutinizing of
tgayward’s countenance, he touched him slightly on

0 arm:

“ Look ye," he said in a low tone, " hasthe Ariel
come to port safely?" '

“ I have but now landed from her at some wharf“
which I know not.”

“ Met she no one by the we —that is—brought she
all her freight in safety to t e dock?" interrude
the man in a low, eager tone ﬁxing his penetrating
gaze upon Hayward 3 0 on features.

“ N 0; now I recollect, said Hayward, who in the
succession of subsequent events had not thought
again of the robbery of the brig; “ that we were
boarded by a—" ‘

" ‘Sh-h-hl“ warned the man pressin his arnr
“there are cars here. Come with me asl e a step.‘

As he s oke he crossed the room to a recess, half
hid b a tide red curtain, and motioned Hayward
to fo ow him.

Henry’s curiosity was awakened by the man’s
manner, and he went and seated himself in the box
upon a bench opposite to him. He immediately
drew the curtain, and then said, in a whisper:

“ I would not like to tell eve thing I know before
that old woman, nor would I me you to; here we
are alone. Now for the brig l" .

“ She was robbed this mornin of thirty thousand
dollars in specie. by a iratica schooner. If you
have any interest in the ass of the money, sir, I car
you will be like] never to see it again."

The eyes of 5 man danced with secret pleasure
and reaching his hand across the board, he gr
that of Hayward.

“ You are a bearer of news, maul Can-led this
zeesgel a blue ﬂag with a slipper ﬂoating in the cen-

IL H
“ The Sea. Slipper, by the gods! What course took
she after?"

“She stretched awe up the Sound."

“And so ot off? is morning, so you? It must
have been en leagues of. She was ldl“ said the
man to him f. .

“ DO you. know the pirate vessel?" asked Henrv."
whose suspicions were aroused by the man's words
and manner.

“N0. man; but I know there is such a. craft on
these waters; and the Ariel is not the ﬁrst vessel she
has fallen in with. W sir, thanks for your news.
You will drink with me? I was just going to take a
whet when you came, and seeing you were a. likely-
looking chap, with more ballast than fre ht. I
would ask you. We‘ll now have it here. Old 9.
bring here a con 16 of brandies," and the man sec-
onded his order y a rap on the table with the butt

we uletanybody

 
I

of an iron fork that ls near him. ,
Saki“ Hayyrard, rising; “I don‘t

“ .xeuse me."
\

l _ ‘ I

 
“ It‘s time then you should begin; come comrade.
I have seen better days as well as ou. on‘t look
loft%. All who once lodge in Betty outback‘s house
are rother companions. That‘s a good girl, Betty,“
be added with a smile, to the Withercd old woman,
as she set two glases of logwood-lookirnlg liquid upon
the dirty cloth that covered the boa , "chalk me
down another double mark. Saturda next I‘ll
square accounts with you. Now, in f end, let us
drink to our better acquaintance. bat! u and
off. We well, another time," he added eenly
look ter him; “I have a purser’s allowance
now 16 t for myself.” ' '

“Pa down your scot beforehand, mister- for
some olks are a t to rise early, and forget it till
they‘get round 8 next corner. Fore pay is sure

av

The hostess reached forth her skinny hand for the
money which Hayward drew, with all he had, from
his pocket. 0n seeing that he had not only a shillv
ing, but considerably more, she looked more favors,
bly upon him, and said to him, in a low tone, as she
thrust the piece of money into a leathern bag, which
she kept in her huge pocket, instead of trust to a
money-drawer:

“You seem to be anice young man, and I have
had a. good many nice peOple in in house in in
time; now, let me tell you if you ave got muc
money about you, don"t ma we too much of Red Fred
there in the box, and Rec 8. sharp'eye on him. Now,
ifyou want to go to bed. gust take to the stair head,
and you‘ll ﬁnd a. small room on the left, with a sin-
gle bed. I call it the ‘ Gentleman‘s Parlor,’ as l puts
none but genteel lod ers in it."

Hayward thanked er for her kind warning about
his late comrade, Red Fred. and following her direc-
tions, after crossing the thronged and noisy ta
room. came to the foot of a dark, stumbling an: r-
euse, at the top of which glimmered a ray of faint
light from some unseen source. With some misgiv-
ings he ascended the narrow steps, glad to escape
from the fumes of gin and tobacco, and the.com-
puny of the rude customers of Dame Southack.

At the top of the stairs be came upon a landing-
place dimly lighted by an old black lamp, stuck on
a chair. By the light of it he could discover he was
on all sides surrounded by a board partition, dirty
and unpainted, in which were set several doors made
of two upright boards, fastened to ether b two
shorter cross-pieces, and hung with ea her ass
to their posts. Which of them led into the “ Gentle-
man‘s Parlor,” he was at first at a loss to conjecture.
But after an instant, he recollected he was to turn
to t e left; and in doing so, opened a door which led
into an inclosed space—it could hardly be called a
room—about seven feet long and four Wide. It con-
tained a narrow cot frame. on which was laid a
starved mattress, covered partly by a piece of patch-
work uilt. At tne head 0 it was a suspicious-look-
ing air, which on closer inspection proved to be a
canvas bag stuffed with rags, which was meant to
supply the lace of an'honest pillow “for 8. Chris-
tian man‘s cad."

The only light which entered this "parlor," was
from the moodily burning lamp on the landing. It
contained a chair without a bottom, to benign
clothes u n, and that was all its furniture. {-
ward loo ed at his wretched garters, and sighed a
think of his condition. “ d so, ‘ thought he,
" this is the end of my father’s lane of res
ii . What despised mechanic odges to-nigbt like

educated gentleman, who is about to stretch his
limbs on a twelve- nny bed that a ne 0 would
hardly accept. We , I will 519%) to-ni t, and to-
morrow shape out my cc urse. bat is efore me I
know not. am at feud with fortune, and feel reck-
less of consequences. I may et be laid, outcast as
I am, to make a friend even 0 the ru e man, against
whose companionship I was warned. Poverty and
friendlessness are nochoosers of their associates.
Alas! my father, did you know the situation of your
son, this nigka you would repent the do you first
thought of m laiﬁhim a gentleman. ad I any
trade or handler whatever, I could and employ-
ment to-morrow. As it is, I am at for nothing, and

. destitute of means to avail myself of what in ht

chance to oﬂer to my advantage. Well ’tis .ess
ﬁcomgﬁiﬁg will to sleep and see what the marrow
ngs l 'n .

Hayward then threw himself, without undressin ,
upon the rude, unsavory bed, and placing h bund
beneath his head, sought to bury in sleep all s mis-
ery. He lay a lo time restless with the fever of his
thoughts, but ﬂna y fell asleep amid the carouslng
soun below, dreaming of rescuing Kate Powel a
second time from drowning, in reward for which he
tibtﬁught Iglanche Hillary gave him a one hundred

0 ar no e. ,

He had been asleep about two hours and the house

was all still. the last lodger having half an hour be- I

tore stumbled up to his cot when Betty Southack
crept from the ta room softly tip-stairs, and listen-
ed at the door of or "Gentleman‘s Parlor." All was
still within. There was no sound to be heard save
the snore of her twelve-penny dodgers around her,

and the clear rin of the watchman‘s club upon the"

para. Flndi e inmate was asleep, she gent!)
gushed open e‘dcor—for Beta Split ack's cham-
er doors had no fastenings on e inside, though all

couldbehas on‘the outside. This was a lie
peculiar to hger?and one which she found verymcon!
venlent, both to keep lodgers in if necessary, and to
enter their rooms herse , if it should be ex edient.
She, therefore, found no resistance at g '9
door, and softly entered the chamber, shading w 11
her hand the lamp she had taken from the entry.
Instantlynn expression of disap ointment passed
ov r her sharp and eager visage 11% se that bl!

l er’s clothes were on his person, instead of 8"

1118 across the chair-back. She appkroache ,him
closer and looked wistfully at his poc ets, but avio-
dently without bein able to come to the determine.
tiou which hovered ﬁlm-formed in her mind. After
watching his sleep a moment. she left the spot mut-

terigg;
“ ell,welli let it be so. I‘d 'a' liked to look at

his pockets to see what money he re has go to
know just how lo I could lodge in m, and be sti'ii-e
of my p . Red says he has just landed from

aBoston rig; and asheisastranserheichlght
k ii wn while his tin ts
°° WW" remastmmnis

someway tomorrow to know.

/

0 seems nice-‘ .
mungyounggeniiemmudiupuawbnm 

tabil- ”

$-

' t


l

' r

. watching the tide of human

The Sea Slipper.

7

x

 
bed to-morrow, and give him an inch of candle to go
to bed b . That‘il make him undress, and to—morrow
n ht I’ know all about him."

y the lime this worthy dame of the Brown Jug
had ended hcr soliloquy she had reached the door
of a little room, back of the tap, where she herself
slept. and havin entered, soon for 0t in sleep her
disgppointmont 11 not being suite to go throu h,
in ayward‘s case her usual process of search ng
her more respectable lodgers’ pockets, to know how
far she might keep them with safety.

It was late the next morning when lit! ard awoke
from the long and dee sleep of the rug it He look-
od around his little lodging room, and istened to the
roar of Wheels upon the paved streets below with be-
wildered surprise. The chamber had no window, un-
less a pane of glass set in the door, and admittin a
din light from the landing place, could be ca ed
suc . At ﬁrst he mistook the narrow place for his
cabin on board the Ariel, and the thunder of the

avcments for the roar of the Sea. But this assing
dea was dissipated as soon as conceived, 8,113 he re-
collected where he was, with all the precedin links
of circumstances. He remembered his lone y and
poor condition, and a feelin of depression came
over him. Rising with a sad eart, he took his hat
and bundle. and went down the dark stairs to the
tap-room. Betty Southack was in the bar cleaning
glasses, for it was nme o‘clock, by which time the
topers had had their ‘ mornin ,‘ and had not yet
come in for their ‘ eleven.‘ So Betty was at leisure
for a while, to mind her own concerns.

“Well, lyoung gentleman," she said pleasantly, as
he made is appearance, “ you have slept a Sixpence
w mm on the forenoon; but we won‘t mind that. I
generally turns my lodgers out at peep 0’ da light.
llut I saw you’ were tired, and l knows people gust
come ashore al’a s sleeps ‘special sound e rst
piggt‘on land. ell. what’ll you have for break-

“I thank you,” said Henry, hesitating at the re-
collection of his narrow ﬁnances; “but I believe I
will walk out ﬁrst a little while.”

“ You have never been in York before?“

“ No," re lied Henry, walking toward the door.

“I thoug tso. Now if you want agood, nice place
to stopin while you are here, you wont do better
than with me. I‘ putaclean sheet on dyour bed,
and give you a piece of candle to go to be by, a cup
of coffee and bread, and a sassen er, for breakfast,
and a nice cup of tea and toast, for two and six-
pence a dag., .

Much as e had felt the humihation of being com-
pelled to take such humble iod as he ha done
the last night, and determin as he had been, on
seeing his room, to seek another abode, he had,
nevertheless, slept well; the woman appeared kind;
the crowd of ill- coking men had (lo arted; and so,
after deliberating a moment, he conc uded to accept
the oifer and remai‘r‘ri at least, until his money was
expended, which we (1 be in three days at the fur-
thest, and make use of the interval to try what he
could do to improve his fortunes. The shrewd and
avaricious hostess closely watched his face as he was
deciding, and saw that she had gained him; and be-
forg‘ he had time to reply in the aﬁlrmative, she
sat :

“Well, there now, give me your bundle. and I‘ll
put it safe in my room till you want it. Sit down in
the box, there, and I’ll bring on a cup of coffee and
g iasspnger, and a roll. ou’ll breakfast like a

u c.

Hayward’s a petite did justice to the mysterious
beverage the ostess denominated codes; to the
more mysterious looldn affair she had called a
‘ sassenger;' and, before e got through with his m
he oftentimes paused to thank heaven that he
thirty-two soun teeth in his head. But bun er gave
ﬂavor to the coffee, relish to the sausage, an sweet-
ness to the bread. He leaned back on his bench
against the wall, scotting, and picked his teeth with
the feeling of one “at home." Tire little room
where he had slept, the table where he had eaten,
the landlady, his entertainer, all three began tobe

leasant to is mind, and to supp] to him the home
at ever wanderer seeks somew ere.

“ Yes,’ said he, emphaticaulllly “I wrilremaln‘herel
This shall be a home to me 1361: a better."

He drew aside the curtain which hun before the
box, and was going out, when the care ul landlady
intercepted him wrtha silent apgeal from her open

1m. He was at a loss to un erstand her, which
she seeing, explained to him with the signiﬁcant sin-

‘

gle word:

“ Eight once."

“For w at?" demanded Henry.

“Breakfast.” - .

“Oh, Ithought I was topay up at n ht.“

“ ‘Pay when ou get you' t w en you pay,’
is m maxim. ou might forgo the way back. ’

“ gut my bundle is th you, ‘ said Henry handing

her the e‘ h nce, and sighing to see how ra idly
his little goctlggf money was diminishing, and From-I
bllng at the cons ences, if he should at the end of
three days, be wit out money and employment. He
had already had several lessons, young as he was,
in the selﬁshness and heartlessness of the world,
and shuddered at the idea of b81118 Whouy 9" “5

mercy. .

He left the tap-room of the Brown Jug with less
elated feelings than he had left the table, and stand-
ing upon the ste s, looked about to decide what
comes to take ﬁrs - The idea had been in ‘his mind
tuvo or three days before his arrival, to put an ad-
vertisement in the pa er, and wait the result. He

‘ now thought of it, an decided on going at once to a
newspaper ofﬁce. He was, however, at a loss how
to move the ﬂint Step 1133f“; 32:1.“ (1001;; 'fhe Brouwn
J d att e corner _ w e oadi to

tl‘ilgmlieus of the Five Paints. and fronted Egan’s.

, street leading into the Bowery. The street, was ﬁlled

with carts, wagons, drays, carriages, and thro
with acoustant counter current of poo le mostly of
an inferior condition. The name and llst1e_‘bewﬂ-
dared him, and he remained sometime stationary
life as it heaved an
‘ flowed around him. ‘At length he moved fr m the
steps and walked up the steeet. All that e saw
was'new and interesting to him. The stately structure
of the City Hall, and massive pile corn paint; the
some  are banner
on - e e an
allin Broadway: the 'and fashionable thro s on
“£901,311 were to 53qu of novelty an in

l ,

 
terest. But amid all the life and motion, and hum
of pleasure or business, he was alone. Among the
thousands that he passed, there was not a face he
klleW' all were strangers and he was solitary amid
a world of his species. How he felt this solitude. It
lay like a load upon his soul. Men around him wore
to him as trees or rocks; he had no sympath from
them, or with them;-—aud so he walked on t rough
the city till his heart ached to have communion
with some one; and he resolved to ask of the ﬁrst
kind face for a direction to a gazette office. He look-
ed in the countenance of bun s as they hurried
past: but one and all seemed wra ed in them-
selves and wholly absorbed in their airs. He saw
none whom he would like to stop. Thousands pass-
ed, and he found no eye that met his with a kindred
glance.

At length, an old African came along, and set
down near him a. heavy burden that he was carry-
ing. It was directed ‘Express Ol’ﬂco.‘ Hayward
remembered that this was a distinguished New York

puma], and he asked the porter if he was going
rere.

.‘ﬂllltes, massa," said the black, touching his hat
cm y.

The respectful reply and triﬂing act of civility,
slight as it was, was grateful to him. He could have
wept that a human being, humble even as that poor
ne 0. had spoken to him in kindness.

‘ My good man." he said to him, “I am seekin
: n‘Pewspaper ofﬁce. Iwill follow you there. Is

m. .

“ Jiss cross de Park and ober todder side (is Post
Ofﬁce, please sir."

'l'he negro then resumed his load; and Ha ward.
by his guidance, soon found himself at the oor of
the New York Express. Entering a side door to a
small room, he saw a boy folding papers in wrap-
pers b a window. and a young man wnting behind
0 sho counter. .

“ I wish to have the privilege of writing an adver-
tisement here, to insert in your paper of o-morrow,
if on lease,“ said Hayward. I

. e ad gave him a pen and a six of buff-colored
envelope paper, when 8 wrote the ollowing ’adver-
tisement:

“A youngm n of education wishes to get some
emplo meat, 0 ther in a store, a_ counting-room, a
schoo , or as a col-gym. A triﬂing compensation
(ﬁllytvgﬁuld be red for the present. Address 11.

. a

is ofﬁce.”

“ How much is the price for insertion?" he asked
as he held the advertisement up to the professional
scrutin of the clerk.

“ Fif y cents for three insertions " said the clerk
resuming his writing, after cast ng a signiﬁcant
glance a the oung man of so many proﬂciencies.

“How muc _ for one insertion?’ asked Henry,
who felt mortiﬁed at this open confession of his

need.

“Twenty-ﬁve cents; and a shilling for each suc-
cessive one."

“You may insert it twice," said poor Hayward,
giving him t roe shillings; and then with a prayer
in his heart that his advertisement might be success-
ful, he left the ofﬁce, resolving to call again as ear
the next day as there would be any prospect of h
hearin from it.

Feel ng that he had now done all that he could do
at present, be bent his course at venture along the
streets, wandering till near ht, when he turned
his steps toward the Brown ug, the location of
ghich ellliad carefullynoted and remembered. On

e we , e
tomptigg and' delusive signs and adve eats
u n its windows and doors drew his attention,
w ich had been constantly alive to an circum-
stance thet might offer him an opport ty of et-
ting employment. Around the door were stan ng
gmﬂps of men and women, black and white; while
wit 11, through the o n door, he could see the
ofﬁce was thronged. oung man, about twen -
six, with a very genteel_ gure and air, with a see y
coat buttoned to his chm to conceal the absence of
a shirt and vast and a much-worn hat upon his
head, desperately brushed, stood near the door,
lookin wrstfully in. Hayward saw he was, like
himse a poor gentleman— and feeling a kindred
sympath for him awakened in his breast, he ap-
proach him.

“ Will you be so good as to tell me,” he said, "if
young men are often successful in getting employ-
ment through this ofﬁce?”

“Indeed, my dear boy " said the shirtless ou
gentleman smiling aﬂabl , and toucth h be
with the air of part better ys, “ I can no tell you,
u on my soul. I have just come here myself to see
w at I can ﬁnd worthy a gentleman‘s accepting.“

“What place do 1you expect .to obtaini‘? asked
Henry, laughin at t e amusineg lofty air and non-
chalant way of new stance. '

“Oh, I can do anything from castl ashoet an-
chor to makings any whistle; from rlvi four-
ln-hand to a -cart. I am a sort of versal
genius. I have not yet been-able to get along, and
so have lived the last year on the spout and sponge

a stem." .

y“ And what is thati?’ asked Hayward, amused; for
there was an air of serious drollery about him that
was irresistibly comical, while it challenged sym-

a h ,

p Th:V gentleman of unapprsclated genius stared full
in the ace of our hero as he at the qtuestion to him;
then laying his fore-finger gniﬂcan ly against, the
right side of his nose. caused his countenance to
assume apeculiar expression, which is better seen
than described; but which, rendered into English,
means, “ Do you see anything green in my eye '

Si rﬂcant as this was, the unsophisticated Hay-
w could not understand it, which the other seeing,
immediately performed another signiﬁcant 0 ration
with his four tals, the thumb slightly clung

the tip of the pro oscis; which, to the initiated, 

as ignincant as if he had emphatically-said. ,
run I" ‘ '

s

u

Hayward was not so dull as not now to unde
what his new friend thought of, him; and mused

‘ at his manner of expressing his Opinion, he laughed.

and said ood humoredly:

“ Yes,

grsat oity.’

Then yo are

. a! lellho damn.
I will haulage young mysteries  the

I

an Intelligence Oﬂlce, when the '
rtisem

have your life.

some secret they we a rather have ‘
cos, I think," said Hayward, remember-

am from’ the country, as on seem behave”
discovered,‘and wholly ignorant o the ,ways of a

 
Eleusinianl Come, In rustical, leave this internal
lace, and go to Sam ’s and take a cool' inspirer.

ut stop,” exclaimed‘t 0 universal ,enius. eakin
in a solemn tone, and ﬁxin upon avwar a loo
like that which the ghost es upon amlet, “my

friend, hast thou the bullion wherewithal?”

“ I have no mono , I confess, to spend in drink,"
said Hayward, smi lug; “ besides, I am at this office
to seek some opening for employment."

“ Employmenti" repeated be, throwing himself
into a dramatic attitude; “ ‘ work was made for
slaves not men 1'

“ Out upon the grove-ling soul that would,
For the moreéetting of base silver coin,
Degrade the 0d withinl
Thou hast coin, for I did hear it now
Ring in thy geckots deep, unto mine our
Most music . -

Come let us imbibel I will show thee Gothami
Wouldst thou work, I will show thee work. Wouldst
thiiilu be idle, I will help thee. Wouldst than out, I
w

“ Bo by thy side, my love.
Wouldst thou drink, I will pledge theel Wouldst
thou sleep, I will share thy couch, and
“ Like two buds growing on one stalk,
We will together cleave as long as
- Thy money lasts 1

Come, let’us seal in fragrant juleps our bond of bro-

thirhmii; aki t1 ' rsal i laced
n us mg: 19 unrve on us
his arm benegt’he Henry’s. g p

He, however, succeeded in extricating himself
from his new friend, and, instead of entcrln tho
intelligence Officer, he took his way toward the wn

118- '

 
CHAPTER V.
m TEMPI‘ATION.
WHEN Hayward reached the Brown Jug, it was
twilight. The dingy lam at the entrance

,of the lane, on the corner of w ich the inn stood,»

was already lighted, and the glare through the dusty
use in t e window of the tap-room showed him
hat Dame Southack had trimmed her am s for the
evening 0 es of Bacchus, that were nix,r itly held
there. As e surveyed the wretched premises, he
certainly felt that he had got into very disreputable
lodgings; but when he thought ,of his meager purse,
he resolutely opened the door and entered. The
hostess's qu ck h ack, eye fell upon him as he came
in, and he saw that she gave him a warning and can-
tionary gesture, while her glance wasiurned in the
direction of the box where he had sat with Red Fred
the hi ht before. His eye followed hers, and he'
starte at seeing this personage there, half concealed
from view bythe faded curtain, in close convem-'
tion with another person, whose foot and hand only '

were visible; but they were enou'h to show that '

he belonged to a better class than i. s companion.

Surprised, and wondering what there was in him.
or his fortunes, that could awaken an interest in her
iron bosom, he returned her a glance of gratitude.
and retreated behind a Venetian screen, placed on
the inside, before the door, to prevent passers-b
from seeing who was within when it was open
Red Fred had not seen him; yet Hayward had no
particular reason for avoiding him, save a repug-
nance for his companionship, and a decided dislike
for his physiognomy. He therefore resolved to leave
the bar-room, and stroll about until he had left.
His hand was upon the do r for this urpose, when
Dame Southsck camethrough an open inher bar,
and touched him on the shoulder:

“Young man, if you have any re and for your life,
kee out o‘ the way of Red Fred. overheard them
talk g about you. and the stranger swore he would
You know host who, you have an-
gled. ‘I see you are ayoung man what don't know

9 ways 0’ the world; and I have a son Just your
age away at sea: and so I do you a kindness, hoping
it will be one day returned to poor‘Bill l"

“I have give no offense to an one,”said Hsy- I
ward; I thank you for your warn ng, however, and
shall avoid them. What can be their motive?“

“Devil knows, exce you have cached, or

e sole keep
on." I

“I can
ing Red 's close interrogations in referenceto
the robbery of the Ariel; “ I ave a. secret of them,
I now feel assured, and they apprehend discov '
I am sorry to have to go from your house, just'u I
ﬁnd in you a friend." , ' \

" You needn‘t go. Just step out doors and go down
the cellar, and you will come to a iii ht of steps that
lead ingo my back rlor. I will [in
intenti us are, an what they are afraid of.", ,

Hullo there, Dame hettyl are you flirting at your

, behind blind With a customer, hey " called
$3.1, in a loud coarse tone. “ Come, come give me
and my comrade here, another pint of t 9 blue

out what their, ‘

Jamaica. We have got money—gold and ‘s ver'by
. .

the alien, asbyor:i measure pot beer. Come,
an . ‘ ‘ '

" how go and on ﬁnd the back parlor door
opgenﬁ" 111:1;céia‘l‘yysaid‘‘ilzvlz‘n‘e‘,hostess, quitting him, and
en n . r

Hayward hesitated'an instant and left the tap-
room'. He paused on the side-w , and deliberated
whether it were not better to’ leave so ‘dangewus a

bear a

,spot altogether and seek other lodgings, than no-

main in the vcinlty‘ of assassins and under the
doubtful protection. of Dame bouthack. But Bay-
was no co ——on “the contra , he had .,

ward.
s irit that courted, rather than shrunk rom dan . ~

6 felt a cm'iosityuw know more about the ha
in the box, and w t motive they had in cons D8
‘ aitnsttgis life. Yet he half-suspected that he

a m . .

His bundle was in ‘Dame Southack’s chimgég‘

o

.a’s lie-had found a friend in her, he finally

to follow her directions. ‘The cellar was d and
he descended with care and sus icion crossed the

stenciloor and was lookin f t ‘ to‘ascend
‘whwltdém g or estairs ,

_ . was thrown open at his ‘ ht, and a
at voice of a youn i bade him ollowher.
,_ W. , and mere'con out, be up rgached the
land founda door open at the too 0 a flight of
mi “"h‘éﬁnﬁ‘ili‘a‘i‘nlxi‘h' H“ “evfm‘i‘ﬁi'
-way u o a -

log, when the some voice said, laughingﬁ‘ You mag

I, y

_\{‘

t
...~im comforts. ie room, whic be new must be

8

 
The Sea Slipper.

 
to the left now;" at the same instant a door was
thrown open at the head of he , a
lam shone 'bri htly into the eway from a

the “little back lor" of hostess Southack. But
who was his de, who had made herself known
only by one of the sweetest voices he had ever heard,
an was now nowhere visible?

While wondering at this little spice of romance,
Dame Southack entered from the tap, and quickly
closed the door behind her, and bolted it. She
smiled, but seemed perturbed as she saw him, and
said hurriedly, “ You did well to take the cellar, for
Red Fred got up as you went out, and swore I had
been talki to you at the door, and sendin you off.
The othergiumped up at this. and both ed after
You. One as taken the street and the other the

no. You are safe here. Oh, I hope the Lord will
remember this good turn I have done for you, when
my rBillge sintoascrape!"

' here is no doubt your goodness will meet its
reward, ood dame; but, ray, who was my in-
visible de through the co ‘P‘

“ Oh, that was my niece, Hetty. Bell; a. nice child
she is, too. I have to keep her out of sight in such a
ans place for young is as my house is.
Red has seen her, and as lief the horned
Satan had laid eyes on her. That is what he keeps
skulking about here for! But Hett is :ngood 
and minds me, tho h she is sometging ‘ d. I 1
her not to be seen y you! for she's too pretty, if
she is my blood, to be too common. But you may
see her while I’m here. Hettyl“

A door opened from an inner sleeping room, at
her call. and a young blooming girl, of sixteen or
seventeen, made her appearance. Her hair and
brows were black as a raven‘s wing, and her eye
dark, and full of ﬁre. She was a neat, round ﬁgure,
with a charming bust and small waist. Her look
was demure, but qualiﬁed b a lany smile. She
looked like a girl who was s iii and beautiful, in
spite of no education an of evil circumstances,
with a dii?)osition of great good humor, united to
passions o the stro est character- a woman whose
career would be.«mar ed by strength of feeling and
wild impulsive passions! A girl to be loved, and to
love again strongly; but one not to be trusted where
her love was crossed or her geaiousy awakened.

Ha ard regarded her a ﬁrst with admiration,
and t on with a look of pity. He was pained to see
a face and ﬁgure, which nature had made to adorn
society, d (led by such associations, among
which her e had been passed. It was one of those
‘ftsaces, he felt, which would one day be the curse of

r

possesso .
“She isa nice girl, Hetty," said Dame Southack,
ugly. “ You see I do you a favor! Red Fred
ay, and many a one his better, would give a handful
0 gold to be in the same room with my Hot . But
shesawise 'l,and always does just as d have
her. Now, n cos, getacu of coffee and a roll for
the ntleman; I must loo after the bar."

th these words she left the room. Hayward
turned round to speak to the young “girl, when, to
his surprise, he saw her bolt the door ter her aunt,
and then secure the door leadin to the cellar. Be-
fore he could divine the cause 0 this precaution, or
ask for explanation of this mysterious conduct, she
ti'i liqh toward him, with her ﬁn or placed
on erg: us of silence, and taking lﬁm y the

hand,l him to a seat,and placed herself

him.
“ What is your name?" she asked, looking him full

in tlﬁe face.H ’ h . , It th
“ enry a , ' o answered, smiling a e
placid way of {guessing him

“ You came passenger in the Ariel from Boston,
and were witness to a piracy on board?" she asked,
rapidly.

Yea."

“ What are you i"

“ A poor student, thrown upon the world to seek
my fortune." r

“ You are like to ﬁnd it at the knife’ gut. You
were in company here with a young man tnightf"

“ He wasa stranger to me, ifyou mean be they

1 ._
"Hush!" she exclaimed, gutting her hand on his
mouth; “no matter what t e call him. You told

. him on were witness of the p racy?"

‘ did. Is he one of the pirates f"

“It matters not what he is. He has threatened
your life. You are nowhere safe. He will scent
you out like a sleuth hound! You can be secure no-
where from his p ose of murder."

“ How know you his? How is it you are so fa-
miliar with his purposes?" asked Hayward, lookin
with suspicion o treachery upon her dark, beautifiﬁ

face.

" It matters nothing to you. Your life is forfeited.
Yet I can save you."

U  ?!I

“ Promise-nay, moor to m that on will never
reveal to an! one your knowl of t piracy, nor
recognize you see them again, any one who was
concerned in t."

“ I have no motive in exposing it._ I am," be con-
tinued, recklessly, “ a wanderer, With as much as I
can do to look after myself and my own fortunes,
without meddling with other men’s stairs. If the
laws have been broken let justice look to it. I have
had so little notice from the world myself, I care
littigﬂfor her terests. But why this oath, pretty
one

“ For your own safety. Will you swear I"

“If you wish it."

The girl smiled, and went tothe cellar door. Where
had been heard a light to pin and called softly,
‘ Frederick, You may come  ﬁe is here."

She removed the bolt as she spok and the in-
dividual called Red Fred came into the

room.

Hayward‘s ﬁrst thought, on hearing her words to
him, were of treachery; and his ﬁrst act was to step
backandseizeashorthaizoonsi inthebeckot
over the mantle-piece. etty, am same time,
whigerod in tiara intruder‘s car. an

“ . onus .youlinyasw u ourwea-
pon inyits becket again,“ said Bﬂtrlr’eiyi. ctly.

“l‘he ltells me you arewilllngi‘voswearno toex-
pose w t you know about the matter of the Ariel.
have been waiting for £011 I“ “’1 “(1 WWII! have
put my knife into your cart. to secure the silence
of your tongue, but for this girl, who plead for you

this morning, and ﬁromised to make you take the
- oath. You are a l ely fellow, and I like your spirit.
! You shall be one of us."

“ Hush, Fred! Let himswear and then leave him
to ursue an honester life than thine,” said the girl,

ckly.
q “If I am to save my life by an oath, extracted
from me for fear of an assassin’s blade, I refuse to
take it ” said Hayward, ﬁrmly.

“ fuse!“ repeated the bravo, drawing a knife,
and brandishing it before his eyes.

“ I am not to be intimidate ," answered the stu-
dent, with resolution. “So far as I can learn, on
belong to the party of river robbers who riﬂed a ri
in which I was passenger; and now, lest I shoul
recognize some one of you on shore, you menace my
life,‘

“You have it master, as regular as print," an-
swered Red Fr , winking at the young girl.

“Further, iy")ou agree to take my oath of secrecy,
and forbear molest me."

“ A priest wouldn’t have said truer.”

"Now, then, we understand each other. I shall
take no oath !“

“Then, by Heavens you shall die. Forty gallant
fellows are not a- oing to swing for the paltry life of
a ragamufﬁn stu out.

As Fred said‘this, be ap reached Hayward with
this iplifted knife. The 1, however, caught his

n

“ Nay. Fredrick, take his word, he will give that,"
she implored.

“ Yes I will pledge mﬁeword freely, for this young
woman s sake, never to tray my knowledge of any
Eggson I may meet, or recognize, who may have

n concerned in this piracy."

“ Take it Frederick! His word, I am sure, is to
him an oath."

“ Pshawl" ejaculated Red Fred, contemptuously
casting her from him; “ this is all verK good in
poetry, grl, but t don’t do where men’s ves are at
stake. at I wi take his word for I believe he will
keep tlit. nYou promise not to betray them i"

0

“Good! Give me our hand!” v

Hayward extend his hand and that of
his late foe, who, with an oath, dec re he was a
devilish good fellow, and that he liked his spirit.

Hayward smiled at the change in his friend’s man-
ner and hostile bearing, and feeling that he had
nothing more to apprehend from the fears of the
fnan, put uphis harpoon, saying to him, in a care-
ess way—

: grog tellll metllilow miniw I was here?" d

e y ere, eg sawmerunning own
the lane, i’md called to mess:

“ Was this after you vanished, on letting me in?"
asked Hayward, turning to her.

“Yes,” she answered with a smile.

“ You were treacherous! So you brought me in
to make me take an oath, and for Fred, here, to put
me out of the way, if I refused. So this is the ob-
ject of mine hostess’s hospitality, for, of course,
she is privy to it,” said Hayward, angrily.

“No—the dame was 0 protecting a customer,
by sending on here. S e had an eye to future
proﬁts out 0 on. Hetty, here is in my conﬁdence‘
and when I to d her, this morning,’ that I had talke
with on about the brig, and that you must be put
out OI the way, she promised to make you take an
oath of secrec . Her mother, it seems, also, over-
heard rne ug with a comrade in the box, and
sent Sou here for safety. 80 it has turned out all

roun as it should do. Now comrade, let us drink
and be friends," said Red is‘red thrus the sti-
letto beneath his vest. out of sight. “ If e world

goes bad with you, seek out Fred Berry, and he’ll
show you a way to retrieve your fortune.’

For the present, He. ard tho ht it best to
humor his new ally, an folio m throu h the
cellar,greatlys risedall aswe aspleased ame
Southwk by wduiﬁig into the tap-room with .

Theyodrank toget er—Harward just bringiu the

lass his lips and setting t down again, and then

Fred left the house on lea of im rtant busi-
ness. Having explained to ame Sou ack‘s satis-
faction, exoept so far as Hetty’s agency was con-
cerned, the cause of his reappearance, he sat down
to his coﬂee and roll. The conduct of the gigs-her
evident collusion and intimacy with Red , as
well as her inﬂuence over him—the orance of the
shrewd aunt of any acguaintauce etween them—
her beauty and up n guilt, were all subjects of
reﬁectio which, o more he thought upon them-—
as he ate 5 humble meal, the more the whole puz-
zled and perplexed him. But the progress of the
tale will unfo d what to him was mysterious, touch-
ing the beautiful Hetty Bell.

‘While he was sipping his coﬂee in his little nar-
row box where, now that there was no denier, the
hostess had set it for him, a person came a ru tly
into the ta -room and by hisquick, ﬁrm ste w
his attent on. He was tall, and carried himself
well, if not haughtlly. ﬁns are was half con-
cealed in a brown wrapper; an a large fur ca not-
withstanding the seasou, covered his rows e ap-

roached the bar s ke to Dame Bouthack, and
Bren, as if satisﬁ w th her reply, turned about and
went out, e his side face to Hayward's gaze.
He thought seen it before—the features, air,
and general were familiar. While he was
endeavoring to recollect where he had met him, the
hostess came to him, said, in a cautious tone:

“ Do you know who that was?” ,

“ No—yet I have seen the face." ‘

“So {am have," she said, in a. suppressed voice.
and wi i:  of signiﬁcant mystery.

‘ o

“A gentleman," was the dry replg' of the old wo-
man. who feared she was goingitaoo ar.

“ He is agnirate.“ exclaimed yward, halt rising.
“ I now dis ctly remember the face.”

“Then the sooner ou forget it the better. You
have worn. Bad Fred tells me. But, oh me! How
has Betty and Fred become regained? and I 118"
watched her soclosel ,tooi 1 12118le Ihave
lonﬁnsuspectcd someaiingl If he to her

, I‘ll give such information as soon have
0 d Ha 's grip upon him, and I as much as told
so. ere the sakes she could ﬁrst see him, or how
she could see

 
in his goon eyes, and red

head and ﬁre-ﬂame board, to e, I can‘t see. I’ll
look her up, the min: i"

The ensuing day. at eleven o'clock, our hero was

‘ l

 
at the Express ofﬁce; but there was no reply to his
advertisement. He wandered about the cit until

ht, bro over his disappointment, ng so
0 n at the 0 cc as ﬁnally to excite the smile of its
inmates, and to become angry with himself. He re-
turned to the Brown J at night with a. heavy
heart, and ill at ease wit the world. He saw no
more of Betty or Red Fred, and the old Dame, care-
ful to exact from him payment for lodgings and
meals as he had them, took no further notice of him.
At length, for the seventh time, the next day he
called for an answer to his advertisement and found
in the rack a note addressed “H. H." he took it
down with trembling ﬁngers, and tore it open. It
read as follows:

“ If Mr. H. H. will call at No.—-, Chatham street, he
may ﬁnd employment.“ ’

With eager steps he hastened to ﬁnd the address,
and of the ﬁrst person he met after leaving the of-
ﬁce, he asked, without taking his eyes from the pa-
per, for Chatham street. The individual addressed
stoppedhturned short round, and throwing himself
in a ragic attitude. thus addressed him:

“ Art than a stranger in the city, sir,

That thou dost ask where lies the street

Called Chatham~the radise of Jews?

Of auctioneers of fur ture and old ware?

The empire of three gilt balls,

And mart of cast-off vestments? Who art thou?

Nay! I know thee now, my rustical.

What takes thee thither? Art thou short

And hast a ring, a. brooch, a olden ke

relic of lame 1%rlilg-pl h ged we.th f f

a t on mus ie W1 suc great o 00

And earnestness of e e, to Chathausipe t.

And its golden balls Speak, for thou art chalv

longed.”

Before the “ universal genius “ had spoken the ﬁrst
line, Hayward had looked up and reco his In-
telligence Ofﬁce acquaintance. There estood, with
the same rusty coat buttoned desperately closeto
the chin, and pants desperately stre chad to meet the
top of his shoes, b narrow straps. As be stretched
forth his arm in is address, there was visible, be-
neath, a terriﬁc wound in his coat, yawnin horribly
a ghastly smile at each elevated gesture. ayward
could not help lau hing at his appearance, and felt,
in the loneliness '0 his situation, a degree of plea-
sure in meeting with one whom he had ever seen be-
fore. To be sure his new acﬁuaintance's wardrobe
was not very creditable, but ayward did not know
how soon, so far as that was concerned, the might
become par mobile fratrum. So he repea his -
q ‘ for the number on his per.

“ at wouldst thou in hatham, my rustical?"
demanded the other, with a tronizin air.

“ I have advertised, g sir, for usiness, and
having just got this re ly, hasten to the writer."

“ Let me see;" and he gentleman with the horrid
ﬁsh beneath his arm, took the pa daintily be-

een a thumb and ﬁnger and held i up to his eyes.
as if he were near sighted. “0h! dem! vulgar! I
know the palace," he d, with ineﬁabie contempt.

“ What it! ’ .

“What! ‘tis awholesale ddlery. Shouldst than
go there, Ilwould cut thee t and instant!"

“ Is he an honest man i"

w“ Honest!" repeated he, scornfully and dramatic-

y:

“A ; he‘d pare a dead man’s nails

An draw his teeth, if lucre came of ’t!

Honest! Ay, he’d cheat no man nor lie

If more were got b honesty and truth. He

Thinks, that men 0in eat three times a day

A  of good provision, which else might

The m3 money and the thrif n . A

He is an honest man. God helpmtfn’esty W

“What is his business?" asked the amused, yet

ving Hayward.

“ 0 make money," returned the other, with ‘a ges-
ture of contempt.

“So is mine. I will go to him."

“And he will coin thee! Th; arments,

Unre ,willfall fromo iiiﬁesh;

Thy esh, no more renewed, wi quit

Thy sfihivering bones; and these, lest thou shouldlt

His hoards, he’ll hold from falling ‘part

With wires and rivets, and so keep thee

A skeleton clerk, no more a walkin

Draft before his eyes for bread and reechesl"

“ I will try him, nevertheless. Come with me, as
I am quite ignorant of the way.”

“ No.l Chatham street is my abhorrence, sir!

’Tis ﬁlled with hosts of ion departed coats,

And rings, an chains, an canes with beads of

old

Wh ch o’nce did a pertain unto in person; if

Thou wilt go, w thou alone! e ﬁrst

Left turning there will biin thee thither. Now,

Friend and rusti good no! hast thou

About thee what men vulgarly call coin!"

“ I have but little of that vulgar metal, ood sir,
but I will share with you," said Hayw , taking
from his pocket a sixgence the mnth of all his mon-

and handing it to im.
"’1
‘ Thanks!" said the other, with alofty air, receiv-
ing the money,
“ When next we meet I will re thee
Or, else, call me coward! my

“ Stop. I Will giveyou in card, sir," and the “ uni-
versal genius,’ laci the sixpeuce between his
teeth for want 0 a ﬁe pocket drew forth a very
suspicious-lookin ob'ect whi was intended to
represent a walle .  he opened, and took from
one of its reas and well-worn receptacles. a pledge
ticket, an ban ed it to Hayward.

“ There, sir, is all the card that fate has left me.
’Tis both the sign and index of my name and for-

tune
Thou seest ’tis Sim n‘s ticketr-uot Simpson
gf :ggark, nor a arkfbox ﬂog-gag“! M
u pson‘s, rince o pawn y
Is writ the rge Frederick Cooke Sykes, Fa-

iiire.
Takg it! The day of sweet redemption for the ring
I pledged therein, hath long since passed.”

Hayward, with a feeling of sympathy that did '

.9.

 
WT ‘1 * m.-..___ .... ,-. _ ..

honor to his heart, bade his tragic friend good-
mornin , and hastened to answer the note, wonder-
ing on t 6 way If the person who wrote to him was
in truth the char-icter Mr. Sykes had dramatically
described him. He soon reached the number desi -
nated. It was a tall, narrow structure of wood, 01 ,
and tumbling to pieces. The front was hung with
clothing, furniture, bedding, strings of crocke ,
old keys. and a miscellaneous assortment of 0d
and ends of cast-oi! housekeepings. The walk was
blocked ugwitli stoves, tables, cots, kettles, tin ware,
etc. etc. he door was low, and seemed to give eu-
trauco to a cavern of old clothes.

Ho hesitated to enter; but ﬁnally resolved to

ow the worst. Behind a counter stood a slender,
thin and very little man. abo_t forty years of age
In white iron spectacles, burnisbing up the knob o
a door. His restless gray eye fell upon Hayward as
he entered, and be stretched his neck toward him,
as if he expected in him a customer.

“Are you Mr. Fink?" said Hayward, satisfied he
Iawtbo'fcorc him bodily the original of Mr. Sykes‘s
por rai .

“ Yes, yes, I believe I’m Mr. Fink, when I‘m to
hum," replied the little thin anatomy, with a simper
and a smirk, and fl bow affable.

“I received a note from you at the Express office,"
continued Henry, faintly; and casting his eyes
around the gloomy place, he shuddered lest he
might have to make it his home.

‘ 0h ahl" c aculated Fink, drawing himself up
tillhe bent bac ‘; and looking Hayward full in the
face, be surveyed him through his spectacles, let-
ting his gaze slowly (lesccnd over his person to his
foe . “Hum; so you are H. H. l" and Mr. Fink
looked with as much contempt on H. H. as he could
bring to bear upon him. “Humphl so you are H.
H! Well, what can you do?“

“I can cheerfuli knock on down," Hayward felt
like replying, but a thong t of his reducedpurse,
of his exatcing hostess, and of utter destitntion; so
he called the philoso her of necessity to his aid, and
answered metly, ‘ I can do almost any thing to
make myse useful."

“01:, ab! you can! Well, Mr. H. H., I up 056 you
have a reference?” and Mr. Fink placed bot hands
behind him, crossed, and spreadin his legs astride,
Ila man sometimes posts iiinself ack to the ﬁre,
and staring him in the face, waited his answer.

“Reference!” repeated Hayward taken quite by
cur rise.

“ es, sir, rqferenco, Mr. H. H. How do I know but
you are a burglar, a robber, or what not, till‘you refer
me to somebody about you. Suds and shavi .
might be murdered in my bed or have my eye th
sto on. Come Mr. H. H., our reference."

“My name is Haywar ," said Henry, feeling his
indignation rising.

“And that is what on call_referrin to yourself.
I Ill so, Mr. H. .,” replied Mr. ink, with a
chuc c at his own wit.

“ I know no one in the city to refer to," answer-
od Hayward, after running over in his mind, Dame
Southack, Hetty Bell, and Red Fred, and even his
late acquamtaucc, GeOrge Frederick Cooke Sykes,

‘gl‘hen you won't do for me," answered Fink, with
a sneer.

“ What would you think of paying a clerk, sirl"

“Pay! my!" re eated the little man, hoppinga
foot high, “pay! y what the d—i do you th nk
of yourself? I should give you a bed in the loft, and
amoal as often as I ate one, with all my cast-on
garments."

Hayward cast a rueful eye to the loft, a pitiful
glance at Mr. Flnk’s shrunken abdomen, and a look
of rophetic woe at the threadbare coat he then

on, and sighi while he smiled, he turned slow-
lyhon his heel, and aft Mr. Fink to find a clerk other-
w eros.
“ Yes, what shall I do!" he re ated, a‘hundred
times to himself, as he walked a owly up Chatham
street. “ I have but five shillings in the world, and
tomorrow I shall be penniless. I cannot even ad-
vertise again. What a situation is mine; friend-
loss, houseless, workless and moneﬂless, in a rent
city! Alas, my father; my not in ided fa herl
God forgive you, and forg ve my btter thoughts
against you l“

Suddenly he felt a hand laid upon his arm. Look-
ing up, he saw beside him a fashionably-dressed
young gentleman, with lou brown hair waving up
on his shoulders. a mustuc is adorned his lip, and
lie curled a gold-headed stick, and wore white kid
gloves. A massive gold chain was hung from his
neck across a green velvet vest, and from a slender
chain of ﬂu or metal dangled an eye-glass. His
form was slig t and elegant. His eye was large and

iercing, but his face ore an air of recklessness
{but marred the beauty of his handsome features.

“So—you are sad, sir,“ he said, in a tone that
wont to Hayward’s desolate heart, for its kindness
Ind ready sympathy. Surprised to be thus ad-
dressed by a stranger, whose condition, so far as the
mpornuities of life went, evidently was so different
ham his. ho nevertheless smiled, and replied:

“ Something sad, sir. But you have probably mis~
has? me for sorﬁo one else.‘ t?" h

o,_you are onry a ward are on no c
asked. in a frank way, glint“ on'co drzw a. reply in
tho affirmative.

b ‘2 Welllvl knew I had my man. You and I have met

0 oro.

"Where?" inquired Hayward. survoyi his feat-
urea with a slight consciousness of recogligtion.

“Not whore you think—but come along with me
and you shall know. The street istoo ubllc for
private conversatio between two 01% fell0w-
ctudcntsl"- ’

“HM I know you now. It is Morris Grmmel“
cried Hayward, between (Pleasure at meeting an old
college acquaintance, an suspicion at some recol-
lection associated unpleasantly with the recognition.

“You know me, I and. noththstandi t 9 time
and change. Come with me, and let us of aha

m I! ~

Hayward would have shrunk from his invitation
from some secret cause orotber; but feeling his own
(institution, tnd his need of friends, and willinﬁ‘to
I‘m my society for relief from the painful thongr to
w ion weighed down his irito when Morris Graeme
acclaim, no Iuﬂorod mm'E, take his arm.
ﬁrs-clad him some distance down a cross street

mining ughdy with him on various subJoots. and

I have conﬁrmed my suspicions that you arc 01—; M.

 
The ' Sea Slipper.

 
L

finally stopped in a narrow lane. boforoa low door. frocbootors; who boarded and robbed the brig In
with a pent-house roof projectinglabovo it. Although , which I came passenger "

the middle of the afternoon, t 0 place was silent,

Morris Gimme pleasantly smiled at the chargc,~

and the wretched houses about seemed uninhabited. . twirlcd his mustache, and then laughed cloud:

The court was dark and narrow, and bounded on the
side opposite to where they had stopped 13 a high
brick wall. The fashionab e costume an c sins of
gold of Morris Graeme were ill assorted with the
scenes around him. The place seemed entirely
strange to Hayward, yet he thought it was not far
from the Brown Jug. Morris knocked once heavily
with his stick, not against the door, but the beam
above it, which returned a very digging and pro-
longed sound. After a moment‘s elay, the ow
oaken door was unbarred from within, and opened
by an old decrepit African.

Without interchanging: word with the negro. the
youn man motionc to aywardtofoliow.and pre-
cede him through an obscure passage, up a ﬂight
of steps, to a long gallery. This he traversed to its
extremity and euteredadoorthat ledinto as aclous
room, in the center of which were two b ' tables.
The room was deserted.

“ Where do you lead me, Morris?" demanded Hay-
ward, stopme as he saw him approach a door on
the opposite s do, as if to pass through it.

“Come. and I Will show you,“ said he. smilin ,
throwing it open, and displayingJ to him an a a
ment, gorgeously furnished, wi crimson cu ns

“Truly, Hayward, you have a good memor . I
was not there nor could you have seen me i ere.
therefore. You have your head filled with pirates,
and lookii 11 every honest man you meet as one.
But, never heless, I have been this do seeking you
about that very aﬂair of piracy. nother time,
however, will serve as well. Will you lodge and live
with me while you are in town?"

waard declined.

“ ell. weu; I see you have no confidence in mo.
I will confess I am something free in my mode of
life: but poverty and want, such as you are on tho
verge of. drove me to it. You will et come to it.
or starve: mark mo, Hayward! Vhiit has the
world. or somer or the laws, done for you, that
you should be their slave, and die of hunger and
perish for want of shelter, rather than break our
chains and live: Come, you are poor frien less,
and have a feud With mankind. and With fortuuel
Ere the tickle Jade good you to despair, not while
you can. Frankly and freely, I am one of a party

. of clever youn? fellows whom fortune made foot-
s

descending from the ceiling to the ﬂoor, marble pin .

table-i3 velvet ottomans, gilt satin choirs, and costly >

giran oles; witha profusion of painting and stat-

uar .

Hayward started back, astonished at tho unex-
pected si ht, and stood surveying the sumptuous
room wit. incredulous s rise, so at was the
contrast from the rude ap monts he adjust pass-
ed through.

“ Why do you hesitaate, man?" demanded ,Gremo.
“ This is in home, an I welcome you to it."

Haywardys suspicions were now conﬁrmed; but
he had no friends, and so he clung to Morris Graeme
for the relief which friendship affords. After en-
tering and surveying the rich apartment, he walked
to the windows, and was about to put aside the
closely-drawn curtains to look out into the street
Epon which it fronted, when Morris olitely detained

s hand, and quietly removed the fa d of the drapery -

from his grasp.

“ Pardon me. Harry; but Ihave wine waiting hero.
and you must pledge me;" and he led him to a side-
boardin a recess, which glittorod with decanters.
filled with various rich wines.

“ I am bewildered," said Ha ward, passive re-
ceiving the wine glass laced n his hand; “ can
scarce y believe I am no in a dream."

“ Let us drink to our meeting," said Grame, with-
out seeming to hear him. " P edge me, Harry.“

Ha ard ﬁlled his glass, and drank. The wine
was urgundy, and do cious; and he was easily per~
suaded to take another glass to—“ The Halls of old
Harvard.”

Graeme now throw himself at full ion h on an
ottoman, after having seen Hayward soc himself,
and in a careless tone said,

“So, Hayward, you have left Harvard without a
diploma, as well as myself."

'How did on hear of it?" asked Henry with a
quick ﬂash 0 shame, as if his father’s arrorhad be-
come his own 1:.

“There use 5 no greater proof than your being
here in New York during term time and wearing a
Harvard coat, something the worse for service," an-
swered the other with affected carelessness, while
his searchi Hglance was scanning every line and
linoament o ayward's face. -

“ True," re lied our hero, half angry that his
pbgvlefrty alre y had a tongue to speak so openly for

8

“ You have inst arrived—three day‘s ago-in ab
from Boston,‘ continued Morris, in e same tonco
oeming indifference. “ How do on like town!"

“I have seen but little of it. ut how is it you
know so much about me?" .

“ It requires no necromancy to tell you much more
——but you lodge at the Brown Jug and are without
money, and are puzzling your brains to know what
to do to keep soul and body from taking leave of
each otherl‘ ,

“You know all I know myself then, and there
is no need of disguise," so d ayward, frankly.
“ How you have got your information, I cannot con-
ce ve. '

“ I knew you were in the city only yesterda , and
I have been seeking you ever since 'you lo t the
Brown J u to go to the E ress ofﬁce.‘

“And d ou know fhis 00?"

"‘You tol it to Dune Southwek—and what a
woman knows is not a t torust for want of telling."

“ Anglyou know the ostols of the Brown J ugl
a“? c ed there for you,” answered Greme, ova-

ve . .

“ 0 you know that daughter .or niece of hers!
She is a singular rl."

“ She 1': a. girl. You have seen her, then f'
asked Morris, with interest.

“Onl once. What connection has she with the
fellow hey call Red Fred?"

Gnome smiled, and was silent. and thou li
,“ You may know. possibly, more brand-by.
do Iyou do with yourself to—da f"

ayward was at class to answer. An indeﬁnite
idea that he must do somethin , and that 313%
ﬂoated thro h his mind; but w at he was to do,
was tell. Grams seemed to divine his
pe Yegig, n?nd sci , “Well, go with me."

“ i er “

“ You will see Fraud-by," said Morris, with a
reckless and lmpo ant air, as if he did not like the
sus icion which the quetion convo ed.

“ ay, Morris Graeme,“ said ayward firmly;
I manor, and have, as you conjecture, left Har-
vard on account of my poverty. yet I cannot be
blindly led into crime.

“Orlmel” repeated Graeme, with a loud laugh;
“ h! Ha . you are preaching.“

‘ 1 remem you were exiled from college for a
crime, and came to New Yo I have heard strong:
stories of your subsequent career. Recent even
‘0“ Wli.l.:.’”.dc Grams, in a slow on

no. . .

“N —-Im bowroug..ButIﬂrmlibolie I
cawygiouofythofm-oct in a party mast

i

 
, in the yard, overshadowing t a whole

balls of, as she making of you, until they kicked
her in turn. They are now free cavaliers, and have
neither sorrow nor care. Come, and join yourself
to us. What has the world given you, that you
should be honest and virtuous for it? Unite with us
and you shall be equal with us. These room

be yours, and gold at your will l"

‘ Tempt me not, Morris Graeme," cried Hayward
bitter] , “ tempt me not: I confess I am poor, and
have I ttlc but despair and hopeless misery before
me. Yet I am a man, and never will consent to
war ainst and prey upon my I cries. Say no
more omel Let me depart, and eave mo tomy
own sad fortune."

“ Be it so, Hayward." said Graeme, kindl ; and
going to the rear door, by which they entere , with

im, he suffered him to depart, adding: “Now,
Harry. if the world go hard with on, and Fortune
turn her back, remember the 0 er I made Iism.
Here you shall always find a home, by knoc us
once at the bar above the gate. I need not remln
you that I depend on your honor for secrecy, u to
what you have discovered this afternoon."

Hayward shook his friend’s hand with a warmth
of feelin he was himself surprised at; but he was
voluntarily parting from principle, With the only
familiar face he had seen in the metropolis.

"And this, then, is the canine of the wild and
reckless Morris Grmme " he said, as he walked slow-,
lg away; “and have listened to his temptation?

ave , Henry Hayward, deliberated whether to
gain league with freebooters or not! Yes; I felt
he temptationl I felt in wrongs plead for this
sacriﬁce of houorl Oh, od, rotect and defend
me! If I am driven to this at st, be the it on
the heads of those. whose weak and wicke ambi‘
tion to make me a gentleman, bath driven me forth
a houseless wanderer upon the free and beautiful
earth. which God has given for men‘s heritage!"

CHAPTER VI.
IN nusram. r

As our hero went slowly homcward toward the
Brown Jug, after quitting the companionship of
Morris Graeme, and ﬂying from the tem tation he
held out to his poverty, he be u to reﬂec upon his
future course. He had but ve shillln 's and three

ace in the world, andrtbe little bun let in Dame

uthark’s bar would not brin much more.
if pledged or sold. Yet he had a l ging and break-
fast to pay for and the second day he would have
not left. He devised a band red impracticable
an romantic plans, rejectin each mucoessively as
it came up in his thou hts. e thought of shipping
as a sailor; or hiring imself as a servant; of going
into Jersey to seek a school. He envied the sweep
that passed him with his cheerful song. because he
had employment and the means of life.

In this mood he reached the Brown Jug. and goin
into the tap, seated himself in one of the little dai-
boxes, and gave himself up to gloomy forebodl
and the contemplation of his own wretchodueu. o
at length attracted the attention of Dame Soul-hack.

“Como, come: you look low'spiritedl" she said, .
calling to him from behind the bar. “ Take a littl-
brsn y and water, it will cheer on up."
Hayward, rousing

mse .

“Well, then here‘s a newspaper. I’ve seen gen-
tlemen, as didn’t care to drink, take a aper, and
seem to enjoy reading on it just as if i was tho
nicest glass 0 liquor ever tapped."

And as she spoke, she tossed him the ‘Flach,’ tho
onﬁv paper taken at the Brown J iig.

ayward was both amused and disgusted in look

over the classic sheet, and was about to throw it\
a do, when his clye rested upon an advortiumbut
for a ‘carrier.‘ he thought instantly struck him,
that if he would examine the city papers ho mi ht
and advertisements for situations. one of which o
might fill. Inspired to renewed hopes with this idea,
he went out and sought the Express ofﬁce, where he
obtained a si lit 0 the day‘s news spars. They
were filled wit advertisements of all d but none
that a lied to him and his condition. are were
severe or servants of every sort, and one for a
footman who would not object to wearing a live ;
but none for yin/M mﬂemm! He left t- c
ofﬁce in deep epresdon. uddenlyl he stopped and
turned back. ‘

“Yes—I will take that address for the footmanl.
I cannot starve, or run in debt and rot in prison. I
will do anything that holds out to me a homo."

Five minutes later he was on his way to answer
the advertisement for a footmszn. He had made
up his , and walked resclutely on until he came
to 13—, street” and before the house, which was a
large. old-fashioned brick mansion, placed back
from the street, with a ma niflcent horse-chestnut

ace.
Ho hesitated at the gate, and felt cheek b

But be recollectod his destitutlon, and opene

the gate, and entered the yard. It was near twi-

“ Not! thank you," answere

light' and it be a summer's evening time, the
were son on the portion. The l‘gjiwaup con-
of an older gentle a maiden l sowing,

ok to the aid gentle-

and a o roodhﬁ a
man. “Agra 0.31ng with a faltering sup. n
. I p , {

.r

 
' breakfast.

a mean should a logetic to Dame Houthack,
but. which was a??? to see for the or and

~—--'-_ wry”. _ 
s. ‘— -—. \ .. . .

The" Sea“ Slipper.

 
10  .

he came near, the maiden lady eyed himcbscly, and
t e younﬁ lady, hearing his step, lirtsd her e es
rem the oak. Conceive Ha ward‘s sin: rise at -

holding Blanche Hilla ! Hi first imp was to
ﬂy for shame, as if she ad divined his yet unspoken
Expose; but a. moment‘s reﬂection showed him the

propriety of such a sudden retreat. He therefore
advanced nearer, bowed to her, and s okc. She
rose and extended her hand to him tb swarm
welcome.

“I am glad to see you Mr. Hayward. I was
speaking of you to—day to father, and wondering if
you had left the city. This is my uncle, Dr. Emcis
and this is my aunt Mary. Mr. Hayward, uncle
He was a fellow-passen r with us from Boston".

Hagard bowed, an declined a seat to which
Miss llary had invited him.

“ Hayward! 011! a friend of yours, Blanche,"
said theold gentlemen, who appeared hard of hear-
ing. “I didn‘t know but he was a young man come
to ct Peter‘s place."

‘ ‘y, uncle! Mr. Hayward is a ggntleman. You
must excuse my uncle, sir,” said lanche, with a.
smile; “ he sometimes makes strange mistakes."

Hayward could not, however, but give him credit
for coming very near the mark for once.

“Here is an end to my visions of a foetman's
place," be said to himself. “The fates are against

! Youwill sure-

“.You are not going, Mr. Ha _
‘ , ' ianche, seeing him do-

ly remain to tea entreated
scend a step, as if to go. .

Not knowingr how to refuse. after having ignorant,
ly placed himself in. the situation in which he was,
be reluctant! consented; and so he sat at the table
as a guest, w are it was, an hour before, his ambi-
tion to wait as footman.

After tea, during which he was charmed with the
vivacity and humor of ' , he took his
leave as early as etiquette would allow, and bent his
solitary way homeward. The meeting with Miss
Hills. had given him pleasure, but it was greatly
qualigd by his disappointment. He had been buoy-
ed up with the hope of obtain! even the humb e
gazillion of a footman; but this pa had now van-

ed.

A few do. elapsed, during which poor Henry had
availed himself of every possible'means to obtain
employment. But there Were no situations he could
ﬁll, and those he would have gladly taken were on!
given to' such as could furnish references. He
mono was expended to his last one —his little
bun e had been pledged to Dame out ack for his
last night‘s lodging and last meal, which was his

15 was late at night, and the little tap-rectum
deserted of its last visitor for a "ni ht-ca ,"and
Dame Southack had blown out all the m s ut her
zed-taper, which she held in her hand, as prepared

re re.

“Come,sir," she said, in a harshgginfeellng ton
directing her attention toward the x with a fade
and red. curtain, in which some one was visible, lean-
ing his head u n his hand. “Come young man,
you needn‘tt ’ you’re going to loaf on me, now
you have (got no more money I ke t on as long as
you coul ay, and even took, w a nobody else
would ba‘ one, your shirt and, waistcoat, out 0'
charity, coz I‘ve got a son Bill ’way to sea and hopes
it '11 be remembered to him some day. dome, new!
I want to shut u . There is the clock striking
twer as true as us alone woman.”

VAs e charitable hostess ﬁnished speaki
came out from behind the bar, with the lamp 11 her
hand, and with a quick, resolved ste approached
the box. The occupant slowléraised s cad, and
showed the countenance of emf-y Hayward. But
how changed! His high, manly orehead was pale
and heavy, with a clammy sweat; his ﬁne 6 as were
sunken, and hard in their expression; 3 cheek
flush and his lips ﬂercely and com-

" Woman, what would you?" he demanded, in a
quick stern tone, butas if he hardly had roper
consciousness of what he said, or whom he ess-

' Dame Southack step back, with an exclama-
tion, “Oh,la! you nee n‘t look so like amadmanl
Poor ﬁning maul I pity you, I do, from my heart;
forl t nk, if poor Bill should be without a shilling
and in a lone h. use, at twelve o’clock, how sorry l‘d
feel if I knew it'" and Dame Southack put the cor-
ner of her apron to her eyes. "But, t on that‘s
neither here nor there! If I gave every y free
lod ngs, that came to the Brown Jug without money,
I’d ave my hands full. No, no; I am sorry, young
man, but you must t up and go."

By this time dywai-d who had been for the
last few hours seats in the little box, in the stupor
of heavy grief, completely broken in heart and
spiri had recovered his full consciousness. He
quiet? rose 11 and, with a faint smile that he

, she

rigidity of the _ e stepped out 0
She stood in silence, to let hi
slowly he walked to the door turned, tried to
smile, and say “good night " and then, with aloud
gohrensiod la b, sprungnﬁrth into the street. Dame
uthack's [1:wa was c ' ed at the cry, and. with a
trembling hand, she barred and locked the door
and went to her comfortable bed; for scenes of
startling and unusual kind were not so unfamiliar to
the charitable hostess of the “Brown Jug.‘u to
leave. for anylengt‘h of time, an impression upon
e mind

r .
In that wild miserable shriek, poor Hayward had
ven vent to the feelings of doe and silent despair,

t t for hours had lburdened heart. Naturally

sensitive and proud. edumtod like a gentleman, and

sing a mind and' race fitted to adorn society,
£2 had, thin the last ow days found his sensitive-
ness wounded and his wilds insulted' while the edu-

ﬁis‘ii’é‘gi‘fa‘i’é‘ malt} “ﬁlthy mm mm;

'on, an 5 gen e a rance an
manner had proved, n tore than oncépggstacles to

S 31100658.
The n ht was like do w. for the htness of the
mldn htgmoon silvered a hundrodbdlreapnd shone

the box.

a n etiledroofsaniundulf were latsd
la), Henry stood n in til. walk 3d hosts! the
locking and o imodoorfrom whicbhehad

 
comm db fit I eiimssmorsdreadtul
m gswwio": 

. window from

his solitary dungeon. The Brown Ju had been his
home. He had found_there while ehad money,
kindness; and in the httle c oset where he sle t he
had forgotten each‘ night the disappointmen s of
each da . It was his home. His thoughts, associa-
tions, a had centered there since hehad been in the
City. Ho had received sympathly and attention, too,
from that stra 8 young girl, etty Bell, when she
was at home an saw h in there which, however,
was not often: and even “Red Fred" had made
himself agreeable to him and been company for him
in his loneliness. Humble as the inn was—vicious as
those certainly were who resorted to it—selﬂsh as
Dame Southack herself was—it still had been a home
to him, his only shelter in his exile and wandering.

He stood upon the walk. and, as he looked up at
the little si n of the “Jug,” swin ‘ng to and fro
with a cre iig‘sound, and cast h eyes into the

w ich Dame Southaok had just with-
drawn the light, leaving all within in darkness, and
then thought upon his own desolation, he felt his
heart melt with n him like a child's.

Slowly he moved away, bending his footsteps he
knew not whither. There was no sound in the moon-
lit streets, save the quick step of some belated citi-
zen, hastening along in the black shadows of the
moonless side of the_wa , or the distant noise of a
hurrying hack, crowng he cit thro h some far-
oif street. On a corner above h in line a watchman
in his glazed helmet and thick coat, with his short
heavy club swung on his arm, and looking as i
asleep on his post, notwithstanding the cry that
Hayward had just caused to riii through the echo-
ing streets; but watchmen, like ame Southack, are
used to strange sounds, and do not let small matters
move them from their pro riot?

Hayward passed the. nt eeper of the of ’s
Seace, as he stood leaning against a lamﬁ-post,

ark shadow thrown across the walk. e envied
him that he had a means of livelihood. What would
he not have given to have excba ed all the hopes
of that “res ectabili'ty " his foo father had in-
tended shou! be the issue of his paternal ambition
for his now wretched son for the occupation and p0.
sition in seciety of this man. Thus reﬂecting, he

 
‘ walked on up the street. calmer in his mind than lg:

had been for some hours, for the bitterness of

despair had passed by, and began to be stern] re-
conciled, as it were to whatever was before m.
He felt his cup of misery and degradation could not
be fuller. Every curtained light beamin from the
chamber window of some rich man’s dwe g, mock-
ed the houseless and bedless wanderer of the streets.

" Woe,” sighed he, “ woe, for the wealth that men
heap together, for itself, while around them they see
so many who are in utter destitutlon‘ men, bone of
their bone and ﬂesh of their ﬂesh. Will not a ust
Godre uire the lives of the poor at the hands 0 the
rich, w o are but God's stewards of the bounties of
l’rovidencef

A distant light of a pale crimson color drew him
on, uncertain which way to wander, until he cameto
a cellar, still open, the eight he had seen being in a
transparent box, cover with red cotton and labeled
“ Oysters." He stggped and looked Mstfuuy down
into the well-light subterranean apartment, and
oontem lated with the feelin s of a hunngi man,
who has eaten nothing since reakfast, the sﬂay
of steak, chops, soups, sausagesmle cakes, pic ed
0 sters, etc, which. inclose in a use case, were

sible to him from the sidewalk as e looked down.
Poor Hayward! to what a low and pitiful state wert
thou reduced. Poorly clad, without money, Without
shelter, without food, eying With a beggar’s longing
the iicli and savory viands thou must not touch.

As the full force of his miserable situation pressed
upon him while he stood there be experienced that
feeling 0 self-contempt which a proud mind ac-
knowled es at its lowest point of degradation. His
teeth me and ground ufon each other involunta
at this consciousness o despising himself, while
hands clenched till the nails ierced the flesh of his
palms, that he had fallen so w as to be a subject

or his own scorn.

“Yes " he said, bitterly—almost savage —“Yes,
I am a despicable wretch! I feel as if I con (1 ﬂy the
face of man, and bury myself forever from the e as
of my cies. Yet what have I been guilty of t t
Ishoulﬁeggrd myself as the cold world would re-
gard me? othing; I do not experience that feeling
which is common to humanity. It is natural for
men to look with contempt upon the wretched of
their kind, and I but share he same emotion in con-
templati my mm wretchedness. But there is a
sensation ke guilt whichI am conscious of feeli .
Yet I am not guilty. I have done nothing yet
brln a blush to my cheek. Is povert then crime r
I do elieve it is. It is attended wi punishment
and suffering, as crime is—it brings down the cen-
sures and scams of the world as crime does—it
shuts man from generous sym thy, as crime does-—
it exiles him from societ an his siecies into the
dens and holes of the ca h, as crime does—it causes
him to hang his head, to lose his self-confidence to
‘ﬂee when no man pursueth,‘ as crime does. Yes,

d. grew 4: crime: and, because I feel I am cum-
1, it is

that my disap raving mind condemns me
at its own tribunal, an that my soul is ﬁlled with
bitterest self-contempt. I loathe my ve existence.
Life is become a burden—the gift of has be-
come a curse upon me. I can fall no lower, save
in Mrs. Yet that must follow. Does the ragged,
pitiful wretch-the ridiculed loafer, retain his late -
rit and his honor? Can he do t? Can he do it n
01% low state of degradation! Does not want, and
starvation. and woe, lead to treache , to falsehood,
to theft, to every vicious thing? es, . poverty is
crime, because it leads to it. The effect is so identi-
fied with the cause that they are individable in the
world’s eye. This is the truth of it. Ha, what poor
wretch is here!" he exclaimed. discovering at that
moment a. person seated on the curb-stone, with his
back against an emﬁty box. He was in the shadow
of the ouses, and ayward could see him but indis-
tinctly from where he stood, a couple of rods from
him. “ So I have company abroad tonight." ‘
f Hedap roaclgedigie place Wlﬁre thﬁ managing-3n“:

oun insous ensgsd pcngo

from a pile that had bogs poured out from an “110111-
13g cellar. as not to nodes his . Hayward
came closeto him. and saw than e was picking off,
with his attenuated and meager angers the gristly
ligaments that secure the oyster to s shell, and var
redoust eating them. A second and dour view

 
of the match told him that it was his dramatic so
quaintanee, Geo e Frederick Cooke Sykes,llsq. He
stood still beside im, and watched him for a few
moments. The poor “ universal genius " was sadly
changed in his outer man, uum-s as it was before.
His second-hand beaver at was gone and atom
straw, not worth two-pence, with the b in h

like atom feather over one shoulder. suppli its
place. . The coat, kept so wi‘efully buttoned u ‘to
the chin, was absent, and a miserable old linen ﬁck-
ct had taken its place. His shoes were gone, and he
was barefooted while be exhibited no sign of shirt
or vest. Poor 11yked starvation had driven him to
the “spout “ ti he had nothing left that could be
pledged forahalf— nny. He was now on his last
egs. The probabi 't was that his feet would never
know the luxury of 3 cos, or his head the comforts
of a hat again; or that he would ever ﬁnd a shelter
for his head, till death kindlyllaid it upon the sweet
pillow of that couch from w ch there is no waking
to a world of sun'ering and woe.

The oor “loafer,"—-we mean the word in its kind-
est an tenderest sense—was so bus in satisfy
the cravings of hunger that he too no notice 0
Hayward, although he once glanced u to him from
the pile which he was picking over. e examined,
with a low mutterinf noise, every shell, with the
avidity of amiser see 'ing for sins of old; and
thrusting close to his lips each s all that ad upon
it the least article of nuti'imeut, he tore it oi! rav-
enously wit his teeth like a man dying of star-
vation. Hayward con (1 compare him to noth
but a furnished wolf, growling over and gnawing a
the bones of a carcass left by another. He fo at
his own misery in the contemgllation of him w o
sat on the earth before him. e forgot his own
bun er in sympathy for his, which was fearfully so
muc ireater. Yet he trembled to think how soon
he mig t be in the same situation. Two da s more
would drive him to the oﬂ'als of the street, e poor
Sykes. The thought was horrible. He spoke to
8 kes but he faint] growled out, up his
3 oulders, and shock is head, and covered the pile
of shells with his spread arms and body as if to pro-
tect them.

“ Go timely-ﬁg awe, ! They are mine—th !" and
he fasten teet upon another ligament, and
tore it from the shell

“ It is I Mr. Sykes,” said Hayward, kind‘lﬁ. .

“You a‘n‘ on oha‘n't. They are mine,"
he cried, (feev y, and covering them with his
hun ha y.

“ don‘t want to take them from you. my or
Sykes; I am your friend. Have ou eaten not
to-dayi S eak to me; I will not arm ou.“

The kin voice of Henry seemed to ve an im-

resdon upon him. He slowly removed his arms

om over the pile of shells and looked up in his
face. Hayward was astonished at the chan e a few
brief days had made. His eye was large, w ‘te, and
glassy, and glared on him with a fierce, unearthb
stare. His c eeks were sunken; and his ll s, shrunk.
en from his teeth, left them exposed wit frightful
shining whiteness.

" Good God, sir are you starving in truth!" he
cried with mingled pity and horror.

“Yes, I'm starving,“ answered 8 kes, in a pitiful
tone poking again among the she s.

“ ave you had nothing to eat to-dayf"

“ Nothin since Sunday."

“ And th sis Wednesday. What can I do for you!
Have you ot much nourishment from these mis-
erable shel s?"

“ No, not much," he replied, in the same low tone,
like one who answered w thout being aware of speak-
ing, or like one who talks in his sleep.

‘ Why have you not be gedl" ‘

“Begged,” he re at , looking up with ﬂashing
eyes, and speaking u an indignant but hollow tons,
“beg! Ibeg! Sir, Iwill starve first."

“ on are likely to starve, then, oor fellow," said
Haylward, who, proud himself. cou d not but sym-

at ize in his feelings. “ But on must not star",

n the sight of food. Come wi me and you shal
have something to eat."
“ Shall I!" 0 ed the poor tarnished wretch, m

an start to rise, but failing again through weakness
“ Have you any money?"

“ No, but I will see that on have something 14
Eat}; Lean upon my arm. t will assist you to you:
ee .17 _

“Stop! ate 1 there‘s a good piece on this shah;
let me eat it t. Oh, I am so hun ."

“Then come with me into this as ar," said Henry,
resolutely, resolved at all hazards to get something
to appease his hunger”

He succeeded in gettin him to his feet, but even
then he could, with grra difficulty, draw him away
from the pile of shells, which he seemed to cling to
is hillsf heart, as if he were quitting the only hope of

s e. -

“ Come my groor friend, we will getsomething bet
ter here,“ sai be, conducting him to the oyster cel-
lar, and taking him down the steps leading to it. As
the light flashed on his face Hagwsrd was ap shod
by its ghastliness. He him-led lm in and 9 him
s t down on the ﬁrst seat that offered. It was direct;
ly opposite the " stand " where the stars were
0 ned for customers. Sykes‘s eyes immediat
d ated, and seemed to devour a heap of unopen
oysters that laid upon it. I

“ Sit still. and I will get ygu something both to eat
and drink," spoke Henry, ndly.

He then went toward a bar placed the
wall, in the center of the lo , sanded a rtmelt, ,
where sat a man upon a h hxgool, in a w teapro
reading a newspaper, and we negroes, that loo
like waiters, seated by a side tab 0 eating sum-
and. as he passed along by the row of cur ed
boxes, he also saw that two of them were occupied,
but the inmates were hid by the closely-meeting cure

talus.

“ Sir,“ he said to the man who was read , “here
is a poor man whom I found starving It door.
Bin? ! blanked fro his paper 4 em:

6 man 00 u m I 3-]
Hayward steadily, la’noed in the direction of poor
Sykes,andthe dmaeoldtonaandwithanh-

“with” la?“ have he pays for "

“ eel .

“ t has no mouyui’wﬁsnry, M,
"Then he must starvefor Inez" and the man to

mod his reading, while the two was“ M mug.

table set upacosxssnlaerlaugh,

,..

--h..'-._ a... ,.

The Sea,.SliP1¢ier- \

 
11

 
stuffed with potatoes and mutton. Ha word‘s in-
dignation rose at the want of feeling nthe man;
and he felt like knocking the negroes _over and tak-
ing their supper to Sykes, and efending him till he
had eaten it. But this was too Quixotic an idea. to
becarried out successfully and so be resolved to
apps? to the man's huma ty.

‘ T 9 man will (lie in your apartment without
something to eat."

“ What the devil did you bring him in here then
for? Have you an money yourself?“

“ I must confess have not," answered Hayward
mortiﬁed and feelin more bitterly the want of
money for the sake o Sykes than he had yet done
for his own rivations. His was one of those rare
spirits whicghave so little that is selfish in them, as
to forget their own riefs and wants, when those of
others appeal to the r hearts. He had also so little
knowledge of the world. of the selﬁshness of human
nature of the indifference custom will create to.
ward human suﬂerings in men‘s breasts, that he
wondered other persons did not feel as he did, and
other hearts bleed as his did. for the wretched and
necessitous. His answer that he had no money
was received by the man with a scornful laugh,
which was echoed by his two pals.

" But what will become of him?“ asked Hayward,

angril .

“ Thit is none of my business," answered the
man, doggedly. “
“ If he dies, his blood will be upon your head,

bald tho indignant Henry.

“ I'll look to that," replied the man. removing
from the stool and walking deliberately toward the
spot where Sykes sat. panting with mingled 11:89
and fear. as he listened to the progress of Ha we I
exertions on his behalf. “ Hullo, here! ‘ at are
you doing here. you d-d loafer! you needn t think
you are oing to die in my house, and give it a bad
name. 'd as lief see the devil as a Coroner in m
cellar. Come get up and take yourself om" Wit
this he took Sykes by the shoulder and violently
shaking him, being a strong man—placed him upon
his feet.

" Wh Mattocks. don‘t put me out to die Mat-

.Y
tocks. out you know me. Mattocka!" said Sykes,
in a itiful tone. “ I‘m Sykes.”

“ The devil you are," repeated the man, laughing
loud. “ I thought you had starved to death long ago.
Why. what the devil keeps your soul inf"

“l have deen eating oyster meat from the shells
about the doors," answered Sykes, in a childish tone,
or like some poor idiot. "

“Is that the we you darkies open ml oysters?
he cried. turnin the two negroes: “ —n you if

ou leave enoug in your shells again to bait a flea,
I‘ll keep you on short commons a month. You
mean to make me support all the infernal loafers in
the city. No man sh live off mine, Master Sykes,
without my having the benefit of it.‘

“ I have paid on a good deal of money, Mat-
tocks." luterpo Sykes. sinking again upon the

bench.

“ And because a man pays his rent this year. the
landlord must let him live rent free the next. You
have always had yourmoney‘s worth, and no thanks
and favors asked. Besides you have owed me three
and sixpence these four months."

“I couldn’t pay, Mattocks."

" Then don’t come into my place. Come, move!
I'm going to shut up. It’s one o‘clock. And you
ma go and t fed where you can get credit; for I'll
be -d if sit or of you get anything here to-night.
without money. Come, don’t die here," and he gave
Sykes another shake, and made him groan with But-

feri .

H23 ard had remained silent durl all this, his
bloomihng and his heart aching. e felt himself
lm tent, so far as his services might avail poor
SyEo , but he did not want resolution in his defense.
nevertheless. Without saying a word, he laid his
hand on that of the man, and quietly but firmly re-
moved the hold it had upon the poor fellow’s shoul-
der. The man started, and ﬁxed his fierce gaze on
Hayward's face, while his fist contracted with the
blow he meditated. But Hayward’s glance encoun-
tered his. so full and resolute and his bearing as he
faced him, was so calm and determined, that he, af-
ter hesitati a moment. turned aside his look,
and relaxed he muscles of his sinewy arm—tho
physical and animal power was subdued by the
moral and intellectual.

“ Give this wretched man someth to ea ," said
Henry. quietly, and in a tone barely a re a whis-
per' but he heard it to whom it was addressed.

T a man looked dogged and sulky, and seemed to
be undecided how to act.

“He must not perish." added Hayward, in the
some quiet and firm tone, while his clear. resolute
eye sought the averted glances of the other. At
is h he answered, and said sulkily:

‘ have got nothing but a pie and them crackers
in the tray there.“ _ "

“Shall I give him the pie and crackers? asked
Ha ward. ap reaching the oyster bar upon which.
with cruets of, vinegar and pepper. an salt cellars,
theyrwer‘e standing.

‘ es.’

“1 thank on.“ said Ha ard hastening to get
possession ofy them and placgvtfhenl before the famish-
ed young man. Sykes snatched a biscuit from the
tra. . an thrust it whole into his mouth, crushi it
wit his teeth. and murmurlng with idioticngw.
But {16600115 not swallow it. Histhroat was pare ed
mad 1) am .

“ He must have a glass of ale," 3am Hayward, to
the man who stood b in silence.

"One of you dar 83 brink 8: mug of ale here—
quick!" said the man giving the order, and then,
turning on his heel, walked away.

The ale revived Sykes, and he was able to eat the
crackers soaked in {t- Hayward sat beside him
with the kind asside Of a brother. until he had
eaten and drank as much as he thought would be
safe, the keeper of the cellar walking all the while
itgio tiently back and forth, lookin , at each turn he

time catchingHHaymdl‘ls 0t
urpose. a a n

the ‘power he haiyiwtem rarinlﬁ obtained over the

and ha ven kee the benefit from it

a could desire. a wis y resolved to leave before

"the force of his inﬂuence—that of mind over matter

of I.“ ovoi- evil—should he dissolved. He oauld

en insensible to

as if t cc] to order t em out but each ’
ab“ n” y lanceimand withholding!

 
not expect to t a night's lodging for Sykes, and
felt it would nogobe prudent to ask it. So he role
with Sykes who appeared very much improved,
though still weak, and, thanking the man for his
kindness. he bade him a ciwl good-night." He
was leaving the cellar without even satisfying his
own hunger and thirst, for he was too Proud, and
also too indignant at the othcr’a inhuman ty, to con-
fess, by taking a sin 10 mouthful of biscuit. his own
inching hunger, w on he received a blow in the
gemples that nearly felled him. As he had sus-
pected mi ht be the case. the man had recover-
cd from t e spell of submission to another‘s will
—the mesmeric wand by which Hayward had held
him, through the power of the eye, had snapped
——and no sooner did Henry move away, than_ be ap-
roaclied him, and struck him a blow with his fist on
he side of his head. Staggered}? the force of the
blow. it was an instant before ayward recovered
himself, when he returned it with such good will and
judgment between the eyes of his assailant. that he
fell against the IldO of the boxes, blinded With
blood.

“Excellent, never saw a better bit. You handle
your list better than a harpoon, my hearty one."
cried Bed Fred, coming out of one of the boxes.
“Mattocks. boy, your lpeepers are put handsomely
in mourning. let oi! wit red lining! ‘

Mattocks made no reply- but as soon as he could
manage to see. he made ls way to a tin wash hand-
basin, at the further end of the apartment.

“ Now in good friend of the harpoon," said Red
Fred,. com ng up to Hayward, “ I would advise on
to make the bee of your way out of Dan Mattoc s‘s
premises. He will put a knife into you, and no boy‘s

“He isa wretch and I shall not move out of the
scoundrel's way. ‘ answered Ha ard. wi ing a
Ericklling stream of blood from a s ' ht woun in his
em es.

“ 0 come good valiant," said Sykes. drawing
hiﬁi toward the steps, scarce able to support- him-
so

“ Yes, go with the poor devil thy friend, there, or

perhaps th shadow. " said Red Fred, laughing.
‘ Have you eft the Brown J u i"

“ Yes," said Hayward. slow y retiring.

“ Out of pockets. and so out of doom!"

" Yes." said Hayward, adopting the slight tone of
the other.

“ I thought so. What r devil have you ot un-
der your convoy there? at I see Mattocks com-
ing. Do you want to ﬁght him fair?”

‘No. wish to have nothing to do with the in-
human wretch. I am no brawler."

“I like you, and will be your friend. I know you
don’t fear him." And. as 6 spoke, be advanced and
met the man who was approaching the foot of the
ate 5, where Ha ward stood awaiting him, too mud
to cave, and wi h Sykes half up the steps p at
his coat-tail.

Red Fred stﬁpped the savage Mattockn. and said a
few words to m.

“ Is he. indeed?“ demanded Mattocks, with a look
of surprise, lanclng toward Hayward.

“ Yes. too the oath, is one of us!" replied Fred.
in a low tone. which Hayward indistinctly heard.
1°“z‘ilthell. then, as we have had a fair tum about, I'll

pass."

“ You will, of course," said Red Fred. quittin
him, and a preaching Hayward. “ Now I have go

on gut 0 this scrape, you will beiieveI am your
on .’

“I believe it," said Hayward. yielding at last, to
S kes‘s entreaties, “ and am 0in to you for your

nd and ver friendly interference. Good-night."

“Good-nigmt!“ repeated Red Fred, as he walked
backto his x; “why, the fellow is as cavalier as
you please, and says me “good-n! ht,“ with an air
of a man out of better earth. et he is abrave
fellow, and I like a brave man! I have taken a
fancy to him ever since the harpoon affair! Damn
my blood if I wasn‘t afraid of him, while he was as
coollth if he was waiting to takeapartner for a
we

With these words, be mean his box, where he
had left a comrade, who was too much absorbed in
the discussion of certain excellent seasoned with
brandy and water, to leave his sea at so triﬂin
]an affair as a midnight reneounter in an oyster cc -

ar.
Arriving outside, Hayward asked Sykes where he
was going to lodge-
“ e,“ repeated the poor fellow, whose WEAK
brain the ale had by this time excited,

“ Lodge! in Heaven’s free Halls, with the earth
My bed,oa)nd the blue Heaven my ctu’tain: the pale
in n

{19: lamp to light me to ma’couch, and the star-
ith their harps of old charm with song

My slumbersi Won d’st thou. bethink thee, lodge
A prince or monarch in a better state?"

" Nay, my good sir. but have you no home?"
Sykes was Silent for a moment, and then answered
in a melancholy and touching manner notwithstand-
ing the bombast of his style:—
" I am a poacher on the world’s broad manor!
There was a home I once called mine—a mother,
Whose love did make me her heart‘s fond idol. As
I grew to boyhood, I did fill with sacred pride her
Breast maternal. by spouting traged 1
And she with all a mother‘s pride,
second
Kemble, Kean, or Cook. I looked thence forward to
the stage!
And on the da my wiser sire to some good trade
Would have ound me, I made my debut in a
country barn
To a wondering audience. of count people, as
Othello! My genius triumphed! e youthful NOF

va
Then I left my home. and sought renown upon the
Bowery s

Boards—deeming myself a rival of the Fonnml"

“ You must have had ambition, at least," laid
Hayward, gravely.
"Hear! Hamblin—from rival —did not a reciate
The lofty genius that had ill] a. barn pp
With thunder-claps of glorious ap lause'

see in me a

 
And so, from Hamlet sir, he base made me
Superniimemry. Ye l‘imds! I won]. have challenged I
Him—hut had no pistols—and so I here the wrong.

And played the part: and after that my eniua. sir.
Was made promiscuous for part or serv ce
That might. perchnnce. a blockhead call for! And so
Disgusted with treatment so unwomhy, I did quit
That  e—because the managers did fear my
va ry.
Thus was I degraded! The day will come I'll write
His l1".t i‘taph—no other vengeance pray I for than
u! ‘

“ And how do I find you now so destitute i" asked

Hayward.

“ Listen! The Park did have Macready at the time.

Who, heari 'v of my genius. doubtless. and how

Tom Hambhn had dismissed me from his boards,

For very jealousﬁI and i'enrin r that Simpson should

Engage me, for chard or 01 iello,

I oullld eclipse him. being a native genius! And

us

He did conspire with Simpson, and so I was ejected

With a kick posterior from the green room, air!

Since then I‘ve had a feud with players, and scorn

To be their ’sociate. I’d rather starve than take

On Simpson’s boards, or Hamblln‘l, or the Chnthnm,

Engagement f0r a night! I am a genius, sir,

The world shall see that genius can have revenge
on ' ."

This rambling dramatic relation of Sykes was de-
livered in a semi-dramatic attitude, one hand hold-
ing by a lamp-810st, and the other stretched forth to
gesticulnte wi ! Now hin voice was indignation.
now pathetic, now lofty and proud! There was,
throu bout. a pervading enthusiasm and earnestness
of fee ing which while his words amused Hayward
ins ired him with s mpnthy. When Sykes be
en ed, the inﬂuence 0 the ale, which had awakened
his sensibility to his wrongs, subsided with the com-
munication of his griefs. and he sunk upﬁn the box
against which Hayward had first found in leaning,
quite exhausted.

Unwiiling to leave him there, yet anxious to seek
some shelter for himself. he was deliberating what
to do. when a watchman appeared slowly walking
up the street. The idea occurred to him to give him
in char e to him; and. on his a proachin the a ct,
be men ioued brieﬂy his condit on, and vised im
to take; him to the watch-house, and have him taken
care 0 .

“To the watch-house!“ relpeated Sykes, rising u .
and looking indignant, wh e his face was ﬂushe
and his eyes strangely dilated. “
tleman!
ﬁllNever to the watchman's care will I commit my-

neverl I am a gen-

“Avaunt thou sleepy guardian of the night, then!
Thou l31ml mg paving mallet, to tread the ting-stones
own.
Out of in sight! I know thee, thou Sonainbnlist;
Thou pal and well-clothed sleep-walker! Begone!"

“ He is drunk." said Charley, with a growl.
“Drunk! I! 1! Thou liest! I have not drank
but chaff-or. three long days. save water! Tho—th

“Hold him up, watchman,“ suddenly cried Hay-
ward, seeing him falling. "he is in a m! This lon
fasting, poor fellow, has been too much for him, and
the food he has taken, light as it was, has driven the
blood to his poor weak brain! Hold him. watchman !"

“It require l little siren h: be is but a baby. Poor
fellow, how his bones stlc out. He is dying. sir."

“I trust not," cried Hayward, “ yet fear it. I
will hold him while you go down that cellar for
means of resuscitation.“

But human aid was of no lon er avail. Before the
watchman returned with bran in a tumbler and
one of the negroes. the convuls one ceased, and the
spirit of r Sykes had left its frail tenement, for
t at wor d where hunger. and thirst. and famine, and
woe, are no more known- but where, alas. the fruits
of an evil education in this life will be experienced in
some Itate. throughout eternity.

 
CHAPTER V11
ran amsr.

HAYWARD stood for a few moments looking sadly
upon the corpse of poor Sykes,u on the haggard and
famished face of which the modn ight bright y shone.
The head was leaned against a barrel, one arm hnn
over the edge of the box, and the body was stretche
upon the giavement.

“Poor ykes!" sighed the student, as be
upon him; “there is an end to all th mlse .‘

“ Yes. sir. be we a poor miser’b e devi , to be
sure,“ said the stout wa chman, looking down upon
him. leaning over his staff. “ l‘vc seen many a and
sight. master in my rounds; but I never seed a man
die 0‘ starvatlon afore. It‘s an awful sight. He was
poor layer. I‘m thinking."

“ at is to be done with the body!" asked Hay-
wardhulfter dropping a tear to the memory of his
poor friend, an turning to the watchman.

“I ’spose he must be got to the dead-house and
kept there. But a coroner’s jnrﬁlmust be set on the
godly“ ‘fore it is stirred from e spot—that‘s the

w

“ Well, then, I will leave the arrangement of this
matter to your care, watchman. I suppose the city

ovides for such contingencies."

“Oh yes. If a r devil has nobody to bury him.
the corporation oes it at its own ’s ense. Never

on fear, but he‘ll have a better night 3 lodging for

5 head tomorrow night than he seems to have had
for many a night. Poor man! He had good larnin'
too; for I‘ve had him afore hetﬁot so bad off as he
was to-ni ht, stop and talk Wl me on in post an
intelli be as a schoolmaster: and somet mes ’ve
seen stanln‘ on this here very box, and act out
pieces 0' some play he said a friend 0’ his‘n named

Shakspeare, writ, as good as I’ve seen Mr. For
rest do Hit ' :t :11}? gﬁlwelgi P003 mag 1 he'i‘ii ago
now. 6 W e s roun an stoo
beat to!- this world.“ '

“Good- ht. watchman. I can be of no use to in
poor frien , and will leave you." said Ha ar ,
moving awn , anxious to leave a scene, wbic some

ainf fore oding in his heart seemed to tell him
oreshadowed his own fate. He cast a look at the
body of poor 8 kes, and hurried along the street with
arnlpid ste . a moon shone like noon. from its
unc ouded rimancy. Ob ects were visible the whole
length of the street' 0 y the side lanes and she
were dark, impenetrable to his e a. He wandered on
semen-nah mewﬂtin- A: 1““mil 11..

gazed

:..~‘:.. ‘9‘.

........—

7'2,— «w

 
2-." wmt—a 

‘ucriflce of m

‘ lug memories of the comforts h

 
I

The..-se.ak $111399?-

 
— . __.\.__,.__ ,._

etc 'was arrested by the stroke, near by, of two
do ock, the sound breaking loud and startling upon
the silent city. He stopped and looked up tothe
tower, upon the golden hands and letters of which
the rays of the moon fell brightly reﬂected.
“Whore shall Ibo when next those hands int
to the early mornin'r hour of two?" he laid, ter a
few moments' meditation. “I have no prospect
but misery and starvation. I feel a weight laying
upon :11 heart—an ominous sensation of coming
e_vll. I cc], and can nct shake off the horrid sensa-
tion, that the end of this poor p yer will be mine.
And amI so reduced? Am I in ear of starvation?
Can I realize it? Can it be myself, so lately the
happy, admired, popular Henry Hayward, at Har-
vart , m self, wandering at mil night in the streets
of New ork, without where to la my head; with-
out food since morning, and destitute of means to

provido‘itl Yes, those shabb clothes—m worn
shoes—my gnawing appetite—t 1e burning ever of
hunger that I feel— all bear witness to it. God of

mercyl what will become of me! I have no he

of any cmplo ment. I have oﬁ'ered to shi before t e
mast, but “ I; my wanted seamen, not shabby gen-
tlemen.” I o ered to become er toanews-
paper, but “they wanted somebody that knew the
city." I. offered to wslt at a. hotel, but the proprie-
tor, casting his eyes upon my dress, said “he want-
ed genteely dressed waiters." I have even altered
to black shoes; but the man said be employed “only
negroes." I have offered to tend bar, and was ask-
ed “ for my references." What—what is before me?
Oh, God," e cried, clasping and \vringii his hands
together, “cost me not off from t e nheritsnce
thou hast given in common to man—vouchsafe to
i do and protect me in this time of my great mile-

on."

As he ended this petition, he discovered in the
shadow of the church tower, an individual ntently
regarding him. Feeling a sense of shame at being
seen in an attitude of pro er, he walked slittle we
on, and turned into auot 1er street or alley—for t
was narrow, and the shadows of both sides meeting,
ﬁlled it with a gloom, singularly contrastin the
bright streets. he darkness and solitude o the
alley harmonized with his feelings, and he walked
on, brooding in the silence and obscurity of the
spot, over his dark fortunes. He felt keenly the
calls of hunger, and his mind was ﬁlled with ideas of
food and his own destitute condition. He felt week
from sorrow and long abstinence and at length
Ito pod and leaned against the we.

6 had scarcely turned the corner into the lane,
when the indmdual he had seen watchinghim in the
shadow of the tower, and who himself had the mo-
ment before emerged from the alley, turned down
after him. He wore a slouching co. , and his face
was covered by the cape of a short, gulf-cloak. He
came with a light step to the spot where Hayward
stood with his arms folded, his chin fallen upon his
breast, and his whole attitude weary and des nd-
ing, and too wrapped in his own gloomy thong ts to
hear anythin around him. As the stranger came
close to him, nyward’s voice, speaking to himself,
srrested his_ste 3.

"Yes," sand t e oung man, bitterly, “yes, there
remains for me on y crime or starvation. Ican see
no relief! Houscless, pennlless, without food or
money, without a friend or a home. I see for the
marrow only additional misery, without one ray of
hope. Ha! what thought is that which ﬂashes u on
pnvybrain. Morris Grsame and his wicked temptat on.

ybss tins ﬁendish idea occurred to mel Iwill
not iarbor it a moment. I am yet innocent, though
destitute. I will continue to preserve my integrity.
Sykes perished from a pride t at would not let him
be . will perish from a. princilple of integrity that

not let me commit crime. 0, no; whatever be
my fare, I will Xi‘ot avert 01' lessen lli horror by the
onor."

He remains with his head drooped and his arms
folded, without looking up The lndlvldnal'whohad
approached so near him and had heard every word
he uttered, now silently retreated, unobserved, and
walking slowly up the alley, displayed, as he em-
ergedlinto the moonlight, the dar and intellectual,
but dissipated countenance of the tempter, Morris
Grams. He had been foiled by the integrity of the
poor student, and ﬂed.

“If‘ot now: another time," he said, as he passed
on; he has not yet been sufficiently starved. How
’18 it that he has wandered toward the s )Ot, then, if it
were not in bishoalt to throw himsef amon us?
Well, another time! He isas sure asif Ih him
one of usl And so Morris Gnome walked rapidly
on. to some midnight rendezvous.

Hayward was roused from his painful reveries by
the stroke of three, and looking round, was about to
walk on, when his eyes were arrested b the appear-
tnce of the house near which he had sen so 10
standing. It was familiar to him, and a secogg
glance at the pent-house roof above the sunken door,

1d him it was the place to which he had been con-
ducted and admitte by Morris Graeme. Asensation
of he know not what unpleasant feellu , assed
over his heart at this discovery. He felt llEe suiting
to the earth. What wicked destiny had directed his
footsteps hither. He looked upon the door with
fascinated eyes. He felt the temptation growing
stronger at is heart. He would have ﬂown from
theolgiot, but his limbs refused to obey his will. He
Ito gazing upon the door—u on the beam shove
lt—one stroke u on which won d open tobim all the
luxuries the son of man could desire—he trembled
like a leaf—bis heart ached for the load upon lt—his
wretchedness came before him in all its horrors.
Famine and starvation were vividly resented to his
imagination~his thoughts were ﬁlls with the crowd-
e had soon within-
pleasures and temporal advantages which were his
at command—he sunk upon his knees, s I: fear-
fully—his soul. was torn, with the strng e-the
strong and terrible conﬂict between 'vlce ang virtue
—between Virtuous penur‘y; and guilt afﬂuence—
between starvation and a undsnce—t e homeless
wanderer debating whether to surrender the bright
jewel of his integrity for theshelter of the sum t -
ous halls of crime the tempter had held out to h .

"It is but a single stroke upon the hollow beam,"
he gas ll and his hollow eyes stoma“ it we
upon t e door that one word would 3 o n. “
do remember how comfortable were mac’s
roomS." said poor Henry, in an 0 er tone. sun
the helm which from IV on out ‘

nent, he had sunk upon his kneer “I remember
the mm on his side-board, and the rich wme that is
sowsrmlng to the heart. I—oh me—I wish Ihad
but a glass of wine—one single piece of bread. It is
but one knock. ButI will not knock. I feel I am
growing weaker every moment. I do not know if I
could dr myself awa from here. It is only one
a sin is s roke upon the beam, Morris said. .Yetl
will ie ﬁrst. Perhaps Morris is one of the pirates,
as I think he is. He says he was not amon them.
Perhaps he is not so bad asI have thought. e may
give me somethin to eat—he would not let me
starve here. lell nook."

He lifted the billet of wood with a trembling hand,
and held it suspended near the beam. Another mo-
ment goaded by hunger and despair, he would have
atmlék, when it dropped from his ﬁngers to the pave-
men .

“No, no. It was at the cc of my honor only
that he romlsed me relic ,” he said, indignantly.
“ lt is w my memogy hath brought it to m ' mind.
He ple ed me his al only on the condition would
become ike him. What he is I know not—what he
would have me become I know not, save that it is to
enter lntoacom ct of guilt. No, no. I. have no
business at this reshold, unless I am wilhng, when
I cross it to take leave forever of my integrity and
honor. o no, Morris Grmme, I have escaped thy
snare. I will leave this hateful spot. If I must die,
I will die with the proud and sweet consciousness to
the last, that I have brought the evil upon me by no
set of my own.” He turned his footsteps hurriedly
from the fatal door as if afraid to suffer himself to
remain in the vicinity of so eat a temptation, and
walked up the alley—he gfons but a few stops,
when he heard the door itse 0 en, and look:
round he saw a female step forth, 1; e next momen
followed b a. man. They walked rapid] away in
the o to direction' but Henry had e to see
that t e man was Red ﬁred, and he felt he could not
be mistaken in the female e, which he was uite
sure couldbenone other t on that of Hetty ell.
“ And this is the com anionshlp Morris's temptation
would have led me to," he said; “these are his
companions. Can it be that the young girl is de-

raved and vicious? Yet I could not be mistaken in

ex- air and What a den of infamy, what a
rendezvouso crime does yonder low and sunken
door lead to. I am poor and hungry, and readv to
die. Ah, here is an apple.“ He eagerly g8.in at
the prize which his eyes had detected in e gutter,
and though it was decayed, and scarce sufﬁced for
a mouthful he eagerly devoured it. The excitement
to his appetite which this created, now made him in-
capable of thinking of anything but of something to
eat, and actually quitting the sidewalk, he went
along in the sewers, with his eyes fixed upon the
ground, examinmg and eagerly searching, i er-
cbance he might ﬁnd something else that woul ur-
nlsh him with a mouthful.

Thus had or Henry Hayward become reduced
elvrep to seek or food among the refuse of the street
0 s .

The gray dawn of the morning broke upon the
sleeping city. The early milk-ca was heard rat-
tling thro h some distant street leading from the
country; 1‘. e watchman retired from the street; the
chlmne «weep began his souorous and montonous
cry: a geek, with a trunk behind, rolled off to some
early boat; the omnibus sppeared,,and the drugs
b an to thunder toward the scenes of business; t e
si ewalks were ﬁlled with workmen, with tin pails
in their hands, going to their morning tasks. The

or loafer crawled forth to seek his food and the
ggggar to wpick up aims. The day had fairly com-
menced, th all the noise, bustle, confusion, sor-
rows, cares, hopes, fears ambition happiness and
miseries. It was eight o’clock and the sun had een
three hours ving life an cheerfulness to the
scenes aroun , when, from beneath a pile of boards,
which were so laid as to afford shelter under their
cover, and suﬂer the grass to grow Ian and rank
between, Henry Hayward, the unhappy ero of our
story, made his a pearanee. At four o‘clock in the
morning, wearie and ready to die, he had wander-
ed to this spot, no far from where we left him, and
lain down, overcome with the weight of his woes.
Sleep soon locked his senses in blessed repose, and
he awoke only when the hi h ascending sun sougﬁg
out his covert, and shone right and warm in '
face. He opened his e as and smiled on feeling ‘
the refreshing beams o t 9 sun whic i, too often
serves both for ﬁre and garments for Ihe wretched
poor—God‘s own universal gift, of which no man’s
power can deprive them.

Hayward rose to his feet, and looking round,found
he was inalumber- ard, not far from some noisy
thoroughfare; for t 6 sound of voices and numerous
feet, and the roar of wheels, were constant (1 loud,
andnot agreat distance from him. His see was
pale sud haggard, and wore a look of anguish—of
mental sulfa ng. He walked awayns ﬂnul ashe
could—he felt very weak and broken in sp t. He
had proceeded but a few steps before he experienced
the terrible dguavvings of hunger. His mouth was
perched, on he felt like choking, as if he was de-
prived of air; his head throbbed and his pulse beat

nick and unstesd . He felt that, unless he soon
0 talned food, he 5 mild die or go madl He hasten-
ed from the yard and entered the crowded thorough-
fare. It was Chat am treet, and he reeo ized near
him the shop of Fink, whose note for a c erk he had
answered in person. He walked along slowl , the
crowd jostling him to the right and to the le , and
none caring for him, or heading him, except he
stood in their way.
rlsh with the b ht sun shinin down
3 :1 me, the fiﬁmﬂ off my kin lagent mgﬁi‘n sag/c;

emerl'y ug tero passing a an e spo
of children," he said, bitterly.” " Yes, I shall
in in the midst of my species, with none to re-
live, “9119 to pity, till ’m dead I must eat! Oh
God. this sufferlnrfalh ’1‘ must eat. I cannot perish

— 1 Wm 110" be he cried with d crate
energy. ” H re is a stall. God 0 Heaven! es the
fruit-“0 “18 aka—see the menus of life. Icannot

die with these in view. It would be a crime a ainst
the providence of God to die when I can s retch
folh to hand and save m l‘ 6. Yet I will ask for
it. I not take it, thong I can scarcely reltmin

users. The women look at me, I will ask her.”

 
in ii

Henry approached the stall at stood at the one
Ilonofcmthsmu twithtbesq An h,
wen-5m the jaw of «up

A

 
- ' u

posed abroad to all weathers, sat behind it, with her
arms folded beneath an old shawl. Her eye-brows
were angular and lowering, and the little gray e as
that twinkled beneath were cold and nvaricious. he
had a nose that turned up, always the sign of an ugly
temper in the uneducated, and her upper lip was
vegy long and Ell'aight. Her mouth was very

an brutal. As Henry approached the stand or
quick eye, over on the alert for a buyer, saw him
and she bent over her stall toward him. Hen laid
his hand upon a pile of three or four penny mo 5

es.

“ Plnny a piece," she said, mechanically.

Hayward‘s hand involuntarily relaxed, as he heard
the term money; but it was laid again irresistibly
upon an apple pie, next the coke». -

“Tuppenny ailch," said the woman; “baked this
mornin .“

“ M dear, good woman, will you—will you all“ me
one 0 these cakes," he said, eagerly; and carrying
one to his month he hit oil? a large mouthful before
he could successfully resist the im nlse.

“Giv' eracake. Och, ive! \ as o’er the likes.
New ye ve bit that, ye plaise tip me the pinny."

“I lave no money—I‘m starving," said Ken ,
eating swa with a veracity that bore testimony
the truth 0 his words.

“No mone ,1; it!“ repeated the woman setting
her arms who and looking fiercely; ‘ pay me
that pinny, or I’ll have the police on yo."

“ Indeed I have no money," pleaded Henry, who
b this time had devoured, with a sort of animal in-
s inct and furnished ferocity, half the cake.

“Thin, by Jesus, on don’t feast ofl’ 0’ Jinn Mo-
Thwaftcr yer the o’ the world. That]! 7%]!
Thaif.’ i017 77111177"

At this cry of the enraged stall-woman the passen-
by, whom nothing less than the my 0 “thief ” or
” murder " could stop in their head ong course, im-
mediate] thro ed aroundthe stall; and two rough
fellows, n red s iirts and tick pants rolled up over
the to s of their boots, seeing her paint at Hayward,
imme iately laid hands 11 )on him.

" What has he done? That has the thief stolen?"
were the cries that assailed Henry’s ear, mingled
with the vituperation of the woman.

“He has stolen in cakes! drag him off to the
lips oﬂlce!" shoute the virago. “ I’ll have hoi of
him, the villain " she screamed, gettin round her
stand, and catching oor Hayward also y the arm.

“Indeed, indeed— have not stolen.” But Henry
could go no further in his defense.

“Hear to the villain! hear him!“ shouted the wo~
man, shaking him. “ He es s he hadn‘t stole, and
see the gingerbread in his tigers, and his mouth
full! He shall go to the police ofﬁce, and I’ll hsve
Justice, if it is to be had in Amerxky.“ '

“Onl a cake; pay her for it, and cut sticks,” said
ﬁne of be men, letting go his grasp upon his shoul-

er.

Hen was about to answer that he had no mone ,
whent e man in the red shirt and his comrade d
appeared in the crowd.

‘ Hallo! what's the row here?” said a coarse stout
man, forcing his wa into the crowd, which was now
com osed Brinclipsl of the lowest order, negroes
and o s, s. tal ligand making confusion to ether,
witht yward standing silent, unresisting, their

cs .

“ Och, Mister Constable, an‘ it’s your blissed face
is welcome this minnit," said the women. “ Here’s
the spiilpeen of a lhuif thinking, coz I’m a lone wo-
man, e d be after comin the b other over me; and
so he steals my ginger ca es, and thrumbl thim into
his black mew. without nive_r askin’ by your lave, or
havin‘ never a penny in his impty pockets!"

“Ay, and so this is your game, my cevev, is it!"
said 1; e policeman, t Hayward by the shoulder,
when the woman releas her gras upon his wrist.
“What hsve you to say for yourse , he i You are
an old lurk, I see! Don't my gripe fee likesn old
so ualnlancel"

ora moment Hayward was silent. He was over-
whelmed with grief, shame, and dis ace. He felt
he could not have resisted eating 1 at cake, if his
life had depended upon withholding it from his
mouth. He was taken in the act of stealing what
he could not pay for, and he felt that tLere was no
defense that he could make in the face of the fact.
His painful and public situation forced itself upon
his roud and sensitive mind, and he felt asif death
at bat moment would be a. relief to . His
heart ceased to best. All the blood rushed to his
brain!

“Well what have you got to lay, my ﬁne covet"
re ate the ofﬁcer.

‘Nothlng; lead me. where you will,” he answered,
in a low tone, with dlmculty articulatin the words.

“ Will you appear against him, 01 women!"
asked the officer. eading elf the despondlng Henry
amid the jeers and jokes of the bean ess crowd.

“ I'll do it, if I don't sell another thi today,"
said the virago, turning to fasten up her I all.

The ofﬁcer, who was an under-ling1 of the police,
was a short, thick stout fellow who ooked as if his
former trade had been to knock down bollocks for
the slau littering-knife, and who had a beetle-aha ed
head and beetle brow, with a. gross annual phy
nomy, in the expression of which there was not one
atom of charity, kindness, or. benevolence. He led
Hayward away tOWard the lower police, by a rough
grasp of the, collar and with a troop of ragged
i1 oes and boys at his heels.

ow deeply did Hayward feel his defied-lion.
How hlsrproud spirit was humbled, an his
heart he ened by his wrongs. How his sensitive
nature shrunk at this public gnomlny! He felt as
if the bltterest moments of his life had come.

“ Have I been suffered b Heaven to come to this
—have lbut retained in integrity, to be branded
as a criminal? Is this i ereward of Virtue! Better
had I been guilty, and lived in luxury than— No,
no; I have now the consciousness of innocence.

 
lam not uiltyl Before God I did not steal that
food; I co not resist the impulse to convey it to
my mouth. No; I am innocent. whatever be he ll~

sue. And I am now on m way to prison;
like I. murderer—dr . . a the
streets. And what is my crime! Poverty. any
any man had reason to war henceforward with go.
ciety, it is I. If Heaven (1 rt me, I fear for up
mtg whonIshall be , for then] be
in forever an outcasgwith. tho brand of
open an M brow. AJAW‘E v.13 no.“

4

\y
x r ,.l I

, throu h'gtho‘

‘ her moorln

,ofw

The Sena-H Slipper."

 
.« ..-,.

open before me, but that in which I can have crimi-
nals like mysslf for companions. Oh, that I could
free myself from life~that I could breathe my last
breath ere I be taken and arra' nod before the bar
of a c minal court. What will anche Hillary say?

What will m enemies say? Oh God! am I about to ,

be branded. efore the world, with infamy! I, Hen- 3
ryIIayward—I who have never committed an act r

unworth a man or a gentlemani God help me; I
shall si
of his broken heart.

under this blow," were the bitter feelings '

1'3

 
himself largely in debt, he executed a forg upon
a Boston merchant. Detection ensued, and e was
arrested; but, by the inﬂuence of the faculty and
friends, the prosecution was suspended, and he was
sent from colle e in dis race. This was the ﬁrst
Ivear of Haywari 's coileglawship, and he had then

ecome acquainted with orris, and indeed intimate
with him, until he had discovered the vices of his
head and heart. From Cambridge, Morris came to
New York, and entered upon a career of fashion-

; able extravagance, which, it was known, he sup-

“ Will you join us, if I get you clear of this ugly .

scrape, comrade?" said a voice close to his ear.
Hayward started, as if llissccrot thought had been

read, and behold, nfcw feet; from him, min ling in

the crowd, the form of “ Rod Fred." He hut recog-

nized his voice, and knew that he must have been ,
i a. secret society, the field of whose ex loits was not

the speaker. Fred‘s glance met his sigliiﬂcantl .
The temptation was a great one. “ How can he a (1
me?" thought Hayward. “ He may be in league
with the oil'loer.“ Fred watched his opportunity,
and again {ostlcd near him.

“You wi I be sent up for three months. Disgraced
forever. Better say ‘yos.‘ Nod your head and you
are free before you turn the next corner. Come,
shipmate, bear a hand."

‘ How can on save me?“

“Will you , oin?" asked he, in a low tone. “ Speak,
quick, for I can’t be seen here."

There was a violent struggle in Hayward's breast,

l

between his innate principle of honor and his horror ,
at public arraignment for theft, perhaps followed by

im risonment. His pride pleaded for release, before

u lic eéposure and infamy had branded him. His ‘

ear of ving himself up to the criminal life of the
one now near him, restrained his desire of freedom
at such a price.
“ Come, comrade, there is little time for consqu
in: charts: the rocks are dead ahead, and ou‘ll

strike and go down, unless ou tack ship, and ollow '

my track,“ said Fred: and e ointed to the Halls of
Justice, which now appeared n sight. .
Henry shuddered as he looked at those massive

granite prisons, and for a moment his resolution i the most 3 u

wavered. Ho laid his hand on F red's arm, half ut-
tered an assent, and then ﬂung the arm from him.

“No, not I will bear in ate. I thank you, but
cannot listen to you on he terms you repose.
Come ofl‘lcer, lead on;" he added to the po iceman,
who had not heard, or seemed not to heed, what

d between his, prisoner and the other.

Fred looked disap noted, and standing where

Hayward had replie

en.
“ Well, if he isn‘t a rum un, may I never hold an-
other lass of half-and-half between my left eye and

 
l

to him, he let the crowd pass 7
i walked tower a grated window which looked u on

the lig t. I don‘t know what to make of this chap. ,

He is either a fool, and don't know what is best for
him, or'else he is a Methodist, and thinks he's going
to martyrdom; and, I dare swear, would rather be
burned at the stake than eat a steak. Well I’ll back
to the captain and report progress. Here I’ve been
all the morning in chase 0‘ him, and just as I come
within hailin distance, he must steal a lace of gin-
gerbresd, an be nabbed by Butcher Elli.) I wonder
what there is so very special nice in him, that makes
our captain so anxrous to get hold of him. He is
brave and resolute, and would be a good bargain to
the band, if he could be made to wor well and pull

stead ."

Redv Fred having given utterance to this mystical
speech, turned. on his heel, and took his wa
rapid in the direction of a crooked street that d -
verg eastwardl from Centre streetdn which stood
the Tombs,_ or it Prison. He kept on his way,
along ill-pave sidewalk for a few minutes
and passed a row of old, he. f-sunken houses, that
seemed, from the great number of black and white
children aboutgthe doors and cellars. to be inhabited
by Africans and Irish. At the extremity of this
wooden range of tumble-down tenements, he de-
scended a few stone steps, which led him into a nar-
rmv paved alley, three feet wide, and. shut in on each
side by the walls of houses. At the end of this
alley he came to a small open ceiu't, at the opposite
side of which stood a tort of uadrangular tower,
which, in the earlier days of t e city had been a
windmill. It adjolned in the rear a lofty, rambling
pile of brick tenements, with a narrow wooden ter-
race or platform to each story;i

“Here is the rookery, 100 ng like an old hulk at
I wonder if the captain has ot here

at. He tol me to bring the student here, i found
him, and he would be here. All, here‘s one o‘ the
lads. It's the lieutenanti"

As he s oke, a person appeared from a large, 0 n
archway eneath the tower, which runs throng it,
leading to some dark, unknown place beyond,
where the light of da did not netrate. He
was clad thoroughly 6 a sailor o a Nerth River
sloo ; but the face was that of Morris Graeme.

“ re you there. Fred?" said the individual, ad-
vancin and meeting Fred beneath the entrance of
the a . “ Have youseen the captain?"

“I wastoﬂnd him here."

“He has not come. I wish to see him. Have you
fallen in with Hayward?"

“ 'for stealing ginger

Yes: he has been takenu
“33ml???” "€d‘l‘hn "n u ' ma
~ rres ° ’
Morris wiﬁidel ht. on e w

“No so sure. I spoke to him as Butcher Bill was

leading him off, but he wouldn‘t listen. He will die
hard sme. ' ~ V
“13 e at the lice?"

“ Not at. I eft him on the way."

“ I wi get him off. Tell Carleton I shall soon be
here, and wish him to wait for me as I have some.
thi of importance to tell him."

W th these words. Moms ammo. in outward sp-
Earsnce lookin like one of the commonest fellows

the street, too his way rapidly toward the police
ogghresolved to ply his temptation at this hour
0 . .

Kerrie Gimme was the son of. a 1‘11de who had
$01131 him. from infancy to yout . a series
0 indulllgences. At the age of eighteen e entered
Y3“ CO ego. but was dismissed, before he had been
there six months for his vices, for the indu ence

hich his father supplied him with ample unds.
His father‘s inﬂuence succeeded in getting him ad~
tted 'to Harvard where he soon made himself no-

%zard“rsalm

"d e in
ashram

 
)ortcd by gambling. Gambling, however, if long
oilowed, impoverislles, and ruin is the issue. Morris
Gimme, therefore, struck out a. new path for the ex-
ercise of his genius, and associating himself with a
few other kindred spirits, be an systematically to
prey upon the community. I e became president of

confined to the city, but extended to t ie waters sur-
roundin it, the i. ands and opposite shore. But as
we are, y-uud-by, to introduce our readers to the
company of these gentlemen, we will leave further
aclcount of them to future developments of the
ta e

Ha ward was led by the omccr in the direction of
the ombs and as he approached the vast gloomy

lie, with its huge Egyptian pillars and solemn por-

sls, his heart sunk within him. F atigued from
wanderinﬁ,l by excitement, he felt truly wretched.-
It was “'1 difﬁculty he could get up the steps with
the unfccling aid of the officer.

The chillincss of the stone ball cut him to the
heart. He looked round on the stern faces of men,
who scarcely heeded him, for the presence of prison-
ers, under the charge of officers is of too common
an occurrence there to be noticed beyond a passing
glance. The policeman conducted him to the upper
vestibule, and then through a‘Passage leading to a
guard-room. He here delivere him to an officer, or

eeper, in attendance who thrust him into an inner
a artment, and turnet the key. The place was ﬁll-

with prisoners of ver low degree. He found
himself in con-ilpany with t. e foulest negro wenches

. d-looking white men, and bad, an
vicious, an filthy people, such as he had never met
before. His appearance did not cause any emotion,
as each was too much occupied with his own condi-
tion. They were all prisoners who had been taken
up the night before, and were now waitinsato ap-
pear, and receive their sentence at the ban of the
Jud e of the petty sessions.

ayward turned away with a full heart, from the
wretched com any in w lich he found himself, and

an inner court of the prison. He began to re ect
painfully and sadly upon his situation. 111 how short
a time had [he come to this, and without crime! It
seemed to him that innocence and guilt met with tie
same treatment from the hands of men, and that,
save the loss of that self-conﬁdence which innocence
gives, it were best to be ulltyl But this was a mOe
mental-y error of thougll:i , and he banished the idea,
the moment it entered s mind. He feared not the
gloom of a prison—he trembled not at the antlci a-

ion of ion" weeks of conﬁnement. His thong ts
dwelt on the ears of all who knew him; andt ere
were many whom be respected. He groaned aloud,
as he thought it would reach his beloved Professor’s
ears, or the respected President‘s, that their late
friend and upil had been arr ned at the bar for
theftl He elt miserable at thei es and shuddered
at the picture of their surprise and just horror at
his crime! .

"Yes, I shall be lost, and an outcast from all I
ever loved and honored. Oh, that Heaven would
0 n to me some way of escape from this fearful

sclosure. As yet, my name is unknown. To-mor
row it will be branded with infamy. Oh, God. my
cup is indeed drugged with the bitterness of Thy
displeasure!“ He called his head against the iron
bar of the window, and tears filled his e es. The
door now opened on the o lposite side. an , looking
up he saw an ofﬁcer come 11 and take two rlsoners
out into the court-room for examination. hrough
the open door he can ht a limpse of the interior of
the court, and behe d the :- honors on the bench,
and the throng of s ectators, and knots of lawyers
and reporters abou the bar. His knees smote to-
gether, and his heart sunk within him. He was a
gentleman in feeling and education like themselves;
yet he was to be led before them, charged with a
crime of theft.

Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of painful
surprise and at the same intent the door was closed.
Among he spectatoul he had caught a glimpe of
the face of Colonel Powcl. s

This discOvery nearly deprived him of all life and
motion. For several minutes he stood clinging to
the iron bar of the window, with his eyes set in the
direction of the court-room, and the muscles of his
face as rigid as iron.

From the hour Henry had saved the life of Cathe-
rineg’oyllvel, hﬁlhndlnoaceaseddto tglnk of lipr. In his
wan el ngs spr va‘ons an an erings er im
had cheered and blessed him. Ifthe tutu’m bad hm
out any charm, it was Kate Powel that was to, ve
it rest and value. He desired to live only for or,
and if possible, to die for her. If he looked to win
an honorable name in the world, it was that he
might wear it for her; if it was his ambition to be
great and cod, it was that he might be so in her
e es; if ric es ﬁlled his vision, he contemplated
t em only as s‘mesns of making her happy; ifhe
wished to appear and do well, it was in her opinion.
Eh; present isgrace drew all its bitterness from this
realm of living in her, and through her, and none
but a over‘s heart at such a time could fathom the
do th and pregnancy of his sorrow.

o behol now among the os¥.‘»ectatcrs, the father of
the maiden whom he lov and worshl was
only wanting to ﬁll the cup of his misery and dis-
grace. From his former despondent and quiet man-
nor, his whole bearing and sub became changed.
His form dilated—his face ﬂushed, his temples
throbbed, and his whole manner became excited and
discomposed. He placed to and fro the prison-cham-
ber, weak as he was. from continued hunger, I
quick arm stgp, and muttering ligt.) Every eye was
upon him, an those prisoners s. m; mm steadin-
voluntarliy aside to let him to and fro, at his
will. His eye dashed, and hands were clenched

'Aho see the ‘G of the Bahia-if for a
tune. of the same W... ‘ l '

madly out with the intensi of
oughts. thus excited, the door by w lei
he had entered the keeping-room of the rlson, was
cautiously opened, and a man was let u, when it
was locked again by the keeper without. The per-
son who entered wore a short, ll ht drab watch-
Jacket with lar e horn buttons, an the collar turn-
ed up about h ears. His antaloons were rolled
up, and rested on the top of s out sailor‘s boots;
ahlbroad tarpsulin covered his head, pulled low over

s eyes.

Hayward was too much excited b the fever and
delirium of his own thoughts, to not on him and he
stood observing the young student a few minutes in
silence. At length, as he passed him, and, as if
timing the ex ressionb the oung man‘s counta-
nance, he let his han l ht. y u n him. Henry '
sto short, and looked Jim fu in the face, and
re sated, without betraying surprise:

‘iléorris Graeme.“ A H I

“ es, am sorry to see on here, arry, ' said
Graeme in a kindly tone. ,

“ Ha, ha, ha! So you know it too. Well, the
whole world will know it, ere long; Red Fred knows
it, and—" here he came close to Graeme, and whis—
pered hosrsely in his ear, “ and there is one who, m-

her than she should know it, I would willing]! die."

"Who is this?" asked Graeme, startled by is wild
and earnest manner and looking at him as if he
dlcliubtedif his reason had not been removed from its
t was.

“ I may not tell,“ he whispered, looking round, and
liftinﬁlhis ﬁnger as if fearing any one should ever-
hear, is whole look and conduct recisely that of an
idiot, or a lunatic half afraid. " would not breathe
her name in one a hellish place as this, for there
are devils about trying to catch it, and snatch it
away. Her name should be breathed only in
heaven."

“Henry, you are ill. You must come with me.
This is no place for you.“

"No, she is not here, I must go,“ he answered,
without seeming to know that he s ke.

“ Come with me, then. I saw t c stall-woman at
the door, and have sent her away satisﬁed; so
will not prosecute you. You are at liberty."

CHAPTER VIII.
ms nLow son A urn.

'I‘ns ca e into which Henry had been conve ed
from the Ha s of Justice, after leaving this Its
but gloom building, turned down a street leading ,
the irect on of Chatham Square, and, after two or
three devious windi through narrow and filthy
lanes, was stopped be ore an old house with a pent
roof projecting above the sunken ﬂoor. It was the
 spot where Morris Gimme had first conducted
our ero.

“ Is this the right lace?" asked the hackman,
setting down from his x and opening the carriage

oor

to other and dun
hifth ' wmig

 
“ Yes," hurriedly answered Grams; " help me out
with the insensible you man.” .

Morris sprung out, an striking the bar above the
door with a heavy stick he carried, returned to look
after his victim, for a rictlm Henry Hayward cer-
tainly was destined to be. The virtue. sterling lion-

esty and manly inﬁrit of Hayward‘s character, so
repeatedly exhibi‘ w en they were in conﬁgueﬂto‘
ng

ether, to his own disparagzpient. as well as
is resent poverty and in ortunes, bad‘filled him
wit that resentment the bad feel against the
and made him resolve to make him a evil as im-
self; This is the key to his interest in him—the clevr
to his es lounge and eager desire to bring him into
com onshlp with himself.

“ e looks as if he was dead," said the hsckmen,
as he assisted Morris in lifting him from the car- ‘
rinse, insensiblc as when he had first fallen in the '
soomahof the prison, from excitement, famine and

es .

'1‘ e old negro now made his ap once at the
door, and, taking the hackmnn's p , Graeme dis-
missed him. The cnrrlsge drove off, and Morrisand
the negro disappeared within the nslwlth their
lifeless burden. The conveyed in to the same
apartment in which enry had once before been,
and ﬁlmed him on a sofa. The negro then departed,
and orrls run a bell, which brought into the room
stall, besutifu )girl, with the too evident traces of
diin atlon and ost virtue in her line features.

“ ell," he said, hastily, without noticing her sur-
prise, “ bring restoratives, and assist me in bringing

his youn man's senses back.” '

The gir obe ed. and by their united efforts poor
Hayward rev ved. Graeme then dispatched a ser-
vsnt for medical advice. and on the arrival of the
Elysicisn, communicated to him the fsctthat his

nose was caused by want of food and mental

anxiety.

The physician judiciously advised what method
should be pursued, and under his treatment, in a
week‘s time, Hayward was almost well, then b
and reduced from the former fullness of h e
Durln the whole time Morris had been kindly attenw
tive, ou h he had not seen the female a second
time. No hing he had seen, in the meanwhile, had
given him an clew to Grmme's mode of life. The

onus seeme to be like that of a wealthy citisen,
without an appearance of wro in snyt inf con-
nected wit it. save that Hayw knew the emale .
could not be (imme's wife. '

After the lapse of a week Hayward felt that it was
time for him to look for something to do, and re-
solved to trust himself once more to the
carious fortunes which death had so nearly ed.
He was alone in the room allotted to him.
when \he came to this determination, pacing
to and fro. It had a window in the rear, whic
was closely blinded. and had not been opened since
he occu led it. He stopped at this window, and at-
tempte to throw it open, to see where the house
Was situated, as well as to inhale the fresh morning
air and look out upon the gray and stirring scenes
of life. The cﬂort to raise was ineffectual. and, on
examination, he vered it was secured by an
iron bar. singular cautiousness on the art of
his host bro ht vidl tohis mind all his armor
knowl of tin, and previous s cions of his
mode of e; and he inwardly resolv that much
as he was indebted to Morris, even for his life
liberty—he would not only resist all overtures,
mgnediately remove himself from th temptation.

I lie,” mammal-gums thaw 32'. “liga-

 
. ﬂ

14

 
The Sea. Slipper.

 
not worth preserving—liberty not worth the gift. if

the one is to be suggorted only bg guilt and the

other to be maintain by the sacri ce of integrity.

I will seek Morris Graeme. thank him for his great

gumatnity, and beg him to give me the privilege to
e .‘

And u'hitherf" was spoken close beside him, in
a. low ironicai tons. accompanied by a light laugh.

Hayward stepped. back a pace, and saw Graeme
himself before nm. who had enteredthe room by a
door hitherto invisible to Henry.

“My Obligation to you hardly gives me liberty to
choose. Graeme," said Hayward. quietlIy; “ I. owe a
debt of gratitude I can never repay. fear. Your
motives of conduct, 1 sincerel believe. were dictated
by humanity. and a kind reco action of more youth-
ful days. But the reward of the humane is left for
sfuture world. Let me now thank you and leave
your roof."

“ To die in the kennel. No. Henry Hayward, you
go not so easily. The only man who has been kind
to you. you scorn, because he has broken laws made
for the protection of the very men who would let
you die of starvation. I know your thou hts of me.

t is true. I am an offender against the ws of so-
ciety. I am lea ed with men who gettheir subsist-
ence by their Wits. Men of bold spirits and y
hands. Men, " continued Morris Grmme with warmth,
who. like you. have been victims of a false system
of society; gently reared, partially educated, to. ht
to look toward gentllity, and taught nothing e so;
who havin no trades when ill fortune laid her iron
grip upon t em. and the world scorned them, ﬂew to
crime to save life and avenge the wrongs society
had done them. buch are the men who are my com-

anions. You know my history. I know yours.

ou should have been a mechan c with your father’s
means. Now you must needs be a villain."

“I havelistcned to you, Morris," said Hayward,
feelingly and symﬁathizlngly; “I know that most
crimes spring rat or . from men’s circumstances
than their depravity. But then this is no excuse.“

“I don’t listen to any preaching. Hay-
ward," said Morris. contemptuously- “I wish to ask
you—will you become a. member of our secret so-
cletvi"

u No-w

“You owe me your life.”

“Take it back, then, if I am to retain it only by
staining it with crime.”

“This is cant. Hayward,“ answered Morris
Graeme, pacing the room with a quick. short tread.
Henry was silent, and waited the issue. At length
Graeme sto and spoke.

"Hon a ward. you are an ungrateful hypo-
crite an did not know on to be a brave man, I
should add, a cowardly nave. You talk of hon-
esty. You. whom I took from the very heart of the
city prison. where you had been taken for paltry
theft. Out upon such morality."

Hayward felt as if he should sink through the
ﬂoor at the char 9. His heart felt like lead in his
bosom; the bloo forsook his cheek. and he felt like
one gmlty and condemned. This had been an after-
thou ht of Grmme‘s. Red Fred had told him the
true acts of the case. and Grams well knew he was
innocent of intentional theft. But the fact was a
powerful weapon, and he used it.

“ Morris Gmme " said Hayward. solemnly. and in
I. tone that came rom his very soul, “ I do appeal to
God in attestation of my innocence. ’

“ God is not here to. answer the appeal," said
Gmme, scornfully. “Ibelieve ou stole what you
are charged with stealing. You ow ou did, and
so there is no need of further double-dos. ing. Come,
Loin us freely and frankly. We have an under-

kin in hand that will just suit our humor, and
you s lull be second in command 0 it. It is to seize

he plate in a country house. which. we are told is
unprotected. Come, you will at at least six hun-
dred dollars as our share. an then you may snap
your ﬁn ers at t a world. What do you say?"

“I re er the miserable condition from which I
have on so recently taken, to any position to which
guilt could hold out to me a tem tation."

" You are either a knave or a co ."

“Is it friendship that prompts this interest in my
behalf. Graeme?"

‘ No. sir.it is Mind," cried Graeme all at once
speaking with ferociousness; “I hated you in col-

ego. use ion were always held up in opposi-
tion to myself y the faculty. I hated you, too. as
’I do every man that thinks himself more moral
than other men. The day after I was expelled. ou
met me and turned away your head. I sworet en
lwonld be_ avenged; and when I heard you were
here. in this city in poverty. I then said the time
has come. I resolved to work your moral degrada-
tion; I kept spies on ou—l knew all our motions.
I threw temptations n our way, an daily watch-
ed your descent into e lowest state of poverty.
I could have assisted (you; I could have relieved you.
with putting my ban in my cket—but I chose to
break your proud spirit and t ion see if your moral-
ity would stand the downfall of all else.’

“May God forgive you " repeated Hayward. in
the low tone of deep emotion.

“l‘shawi on have stood the test better than I
supposed. on have foiled me by your superior
cunning and du licity."

“I care not w at you term the motive powers of
my resistance. I have at least, as you confess. not
fallen. thanks be to that dear mother who early in-
stilled into my mind the rinciplos of morality and
obedience to the laws 0 God; and gratitude be to
that great and cod Being who has enabled me at so
sore a season 0 trial, to prefer obedience to his in-
junctionﬁ. and homage to his laws. before every
\earthly interest."

“ You are a mans f001. Hayward. Your preach-
ing, however. shall not avail on. I am not to have
All my time and hospitality thrown awa . By
Heaven, ay, bythe name of God, you shag enter
into compact With us.”

“You menace me. because on have me, weak
and h pleas, in your quol‘. orris Graeme. But

on ca ever threaten a man to do evil. if tem ta-

on. in) elf. will not allure him. You ma 9 ve
and imprison the body; but the so Which is the
true man, deﬁes all human coercion. t am I to
understand from your language- Am I roux-pris—

com .
Ionic Gram the room for saves-oi no-
WQWMMmmweudi-sm

 
of sugar. “ Yes, you are a prisoner. Do you think I l a distance. that he became surprisedl and stopped.

am fool enough to expose myself. my abode, my ' But a shout of far-oi! laughterca

secret haunts, to you. that you may betray moi
No. no. You shall either sign the compact of our

l

band, whose nightly rendezvous is not far from '

here, or starve to death where you are."

With these words Graeme left the chamber by the
way he had entered.

All that day fpassed slowly bK—the sun went
down twilight eepened into nigh t, and Hayward
had heard no voice or step near is chamber. He
tried his doors—they were bolted without. He tried
his windows and found it impossible to 0 on them.
Twelve o‘clock struck—midnight—and t e convic-
tion came over him that he was aprlsoner in the
house of an evil man, who was famihar with crime;
and that that man might stop at no act. either to
bring him into the same guilty compact With him—
self, or to remove a dangerous enemy. who had too
intimate knowledge of im. Not yet entirely con-
valescent, he felt the need of refreshing food. and
hun or stored him in the face. He resolved to com-
mit imself to Heaven, and aloe . and see what the
morning would bring forth. e approached his
water pitcher to uench at least his thirst—but to
his horror and s ering it was empty. Could It have
been so by design? He threw himself upon his bed.
and sle t until a hand, laid upon his awoke him.
It was road day, and he saw Morris meme stand-
ing by his bedside. The temptation of the morning

rtfavious was renewed. Hayward was still as ﬁrm as
e ore.

“ I will try another twenty-four hours." answered
Graeme, goxng to the door.

“ Stay. ‘ mme returned a step:

“Do you intend to murder me?“

“No; if you die it will be by your own obstinacy.
Sign but this parchment. and you are free."

‘ What motive can you have in wishing me a
partner in your compact i"

“ I have told you partly my own reasons. Our chief
has resolved on it. or on your assassination.“

“How have I incurred his vengeance?"

" Merely by having been on board the brigantine
which he robbed, and being able to recognize him.
This he fears you may be called upon to do. as the af-
fair has created immense excitement. and the police
are using every means to arrest him. If he is arrest-
ed, you will be summoned as a witness a anst him. To
prevent this, he has resolved you sha die. I have
solicited your life, on the promise of securing you as
one of us. The captain is secreted at present, and I
have the actin control of the affairs of the society.
Thus you see have interceded to save your life."

"To sacriﬁce my honor, make shipwreck of my
integrity and ruin my soul."

“ reaching! By heaven. Henry Ha ard. this is
no boy‘s lay. You shall either take t e oath of the
band. or ere perish of thirst and hunger."

Hayward. though by no means strong in his pre-
sent condition, wanted neither courage nor decision
in action. He saw Graeme's countenance, as well as
learned by his words. that be seriously resolved to
put his es into execution. Life sweet. and
cheaply Ip‘i'irc used even at its own risk. Hayward.
during t conference. had risen from the outside
of the bed on which he had cast himself the ni ht
before, and was now seated on the edge of it. e
suddenly, as Graeme turned away from him to leave
the chamber by the private door, threw his arms
about his neck together with a post of the bed, and
drawing them together till neck and gist met in his
embrace. he clung t htly round his t at.

Graamo was so ta en b surprise that he could
not resist the fearful em race. and groaned with
pain as the thin and pliant arms wound themselves
closer and closer, forcing his neck hard ainst the
post of the bed. as if they would crush it. e strug-
gled ﬁercely till he grew black in the face. Hay-
ward had life at issue, and the reﬂection gave him
strength and energy that) was almost an eruatural.
Long, long and fearful was that horrlb e stﬁ‘udggle.
At e , orris Graeme sunk lifeless 'towa he
floor— 9 arms of Hayward relaxed and he fell
over upon his face like one dead. Ha ward looked
at him a few moments. and threw imself back
upon his bed with all his thou hts about him—his
reﬂection clear. It was man ouisbefore he rose
up from that wretched couc . Morris Graeme lay
still upon the floor. Hayward gazed upon him wit
horror. The idea. of depriving a human being of
life—even in self-defense, is dreadful to dwell up-
on. He got up and approached him. He bent
over him. There was no apparent sign of life. He
laid ins hand uﬁon his heart; it had ceased to beat
tohis touch. o p it upon his brow; it was
not ﬁst cold, but clammy as the rave.

“ e is dead! 0h, , who newest all things,
ac nit me of this fearful deedl" he cried, kneeling

do the cor se.

He rose to feet and went to the door by which
Morris had entered. He had no deﬁnite idea what
course he should pursue. Flight. food. water, were
all strangely alternating in his thoughts. He found
a door 0. ar. and passed through it into a narrow
hall, wi which he was familiar. He descended the
stairs to the main hall below. He heard no one. saw
no one; he entered the dining-room and rushed to the
side-board. There was no water upo

lips drank till the torture of his thirst was temporari-
l alloyed. He found bread, and meat. and viands, in
t e side-board and ate voraciously. He did not
speedily satisfy the mad cravirﬁs of forty-eight
hours‘ fasting. At length he 11 shed his rs st,
and ﬁnding water, drank freely. He felt inv on
ated, and began to reﬂect u on he course he should
pursue. He thought of eliverin himself up to
East-ice; but he felt he was not ' t and that God

51 already judged and acquitted im. He knew
that there were no witnesses, and that a. human
tribunal would condemn him to death.

But reﬂection led him to take a different view of
the subject. Life was protected by human laws. and
he who took it away innocentl or intentionally. was
equally answerable to them ill acquitted by their
tribunal. "I will surrender in a if and leave the is-
sue to heaven." he said. ﬂrml’y’r. He now felt more
mmposednﬁnd sought his way out of the dwelling.
He found the doors so Saar-dad by looks that de-

ﬂedhisknowlcdge heco uoto nthem.Fm

gdmndﬁwﬁgahaﬁm aﬁchwastvh .
ofonndn. - w spouses rough.
mmmsm‘mmumm

n it—but he 
seized half a decanter of wine. and putting it to his

him, between
curiosity and anxiety. to proceed. As be advanced,
the shouts became louder. and sounded like the u
roar of bacchanalian revels. At length he came
the extremity of the brick arched passage, and do-
scended ten or twelve steps. all the way guided b

‘ his feeling, as the lace was wholly dark. 0n read;
0

 
ing the ot of t 6 step, aloud chorus of voices
broke out not much further ahead of him. and going
a. few paces along. he discovered a faint light. He
approached this and came to a door a or from
w ich it and. the sound proceeded. e looked
through into a large under ound ball, around a
long table in the center of w ich were seated about
thirty persons of both sexes feasting, drinking and
smoking; At the foot of the table was Red Fred,
and by inside, oru on his knee, the innkeepor‘s
niece, Hetty Bell; w e. on the other side, sat the
tall girl, whose assistance Morris Grams had called
to restore Hayward to consciousness.

CHAPTER IX.
'rnz sucnm moon.

ABDUN}, the table, in the center of the subterranean
hall, which he had been conductedto by the passage
he had traversed from the basement of the dwelling.
he recognized faces he had seen on board the Sea
Slipper. He looked in vain, however, for the fea—
tures and commanding bearing of their chief. whom
he had once since met at the Brown J ug, in company
with Red Fred. He had now, as Morris Gnome had
intimated. doubtless hid himself for the present. un~
til the vigilance of the police should abate. or he
could gain time to tomporize with them and buy
them over.

Hayward now saw that he had unknowingly ne-
trated into the very heart and rendezvous o the
band of secret outlaws. He glazed some time upon
their bacchanalian orgies. 81 var tankards were on
the board, silver cups were in the hands of many.
The richest wines were in abundance, and cards, ci-
gars, dirks and pistols. were confusedly mingled
with glasses. decanters and fruit, It was evidently
a. gala night. He saw that most of them were in~
toxicated, and felt that if he was discovered by them
his hfe would be forfeited unless he should enter in-
to solemn com act with them. “ But what matters
it how I die? am on in way to deliver myself to

ashes for a murder. I w l confess it to these, and
etuthem bring me before the authorities, if they
w: .’
The long train of painful circumstances whicth
followed poor Hayward from his ﬁrst entrance into
New York. up to this moment with the supposed
murder of Grmme, wrought up is mind to a species
of calm (.1le Life has no longer a blessi —death
was a roll . Under the action of these feneﬁlnﬁglae
strode into hall of revel and approachin Red .
laid his hand u on his shoulder before presence
was discovers by any one. a
Fred, at this une cted salutation gaining to
his feet, with the c “ he houn " and wing a
pistol. leveled it at ayward. Int 9 act ho recog-
nize m and threw up half a dozen pistols and
knives that were aimed at his life from others; for
eve man had sprung to his feet.

“ old, my mates. he is a. friend." said Fred;
“thongh by the grip e133“ my shoulder, I thought,
Old Hayes had scent us out. So my knight of
the harpoon, you have repented. and come to join
us. Give us our hand."

Hayward, a ter touching him on the shoulder had
folded his arms upon his breast and stood calmly
before him. He now replied. " o."

“ No; then why are you here?“ asked Hetty Bell,
earnestly. laying a hand upon his.
ch‘i‘eTfo, ehver myself up for the murder of your

“Ha, Carleton murdered! Down with hhnl“ were
the furious cries.

 
“ Not Carleton. but Morris Grams." he on-
swered. unmoved by the wild uproar he had created
around him.

“ Morris Graeme dead?" was repeated on all sides,
in a tone less fierce. but deeper and more appalling
than before.

“I have murdered him in the room above
where he conﬁned me." he said. addressing

Fred. “ Who knows the room i“ ’
“Follow me,“ cried the tail girl. “ Some of you
seize him and detain him."
Re Fred. preceded by the girl and Betty Bell.

and followed by half a dozen of the men. who

dragged Hayward along with them, left the It?

ment for the chamber. On enteringi they be old

Graeme lyln upon the ﬂoor, a porch dead. The

girl threw erself u on his ody with a shriek.

while all were ﬁlled w th horror.

H“Howdwas this done?" demanded Bed Trad Of
a war .

f  strangled him. We struggled for life. and be

e .1!

" There may be life in him " some one cried.

“Let me see." exclaimed the girl; and tearing

gpen his vest, she laid her hand upon his bears.
or a moment there was a deep silence, which was

’1 broken by a glad

cry.

“ He livesl helical“

Fred laced his own hand there. ‘
n :63: Heart belts faintly as an infant‘s pulse. but

Those words fell like a blessing from Heaven on
Hayward‘s ear. He was not then a murderer. if
perchance life could be restored. Eve means
were now used to bring back animation, w ch Md
been suspended so many hours; and b the aid of
the lancet, baths and application to t e head and
extremities. he at len h was revived so as to open
his eyes. In an hour 9 sat up and spoke with the
possession of perfect consciousness

Hayward, in the meanwhile had been held prison—
er. in one corner of the chamber, between two men,
With dirks drawn in their hands. Rod Fred haw
explained to Morris the events that had transp
then demanded what should be done with Hayward.

“Guard him, on your liveshi; the lower hall, till
morning. ~Ishall then babe ,and will take in!
ownreveu e.“

H ward was then dragged away through the
pus‘ayguhahadnnttrvatowudthems of
rush-i. and bungalﬁ‘dtothe 013mm W
the su . was thin rudely into a
summit”. Ito-amountqu

- ‘ a / ‘ » \

\

 
Theﬁea Slip???

 
his head. he bclicvcd to be beneath the pavement of I

the street.

The revelers returned to their drinkin . and late
In the hi lit the sounds of their bacchau isn orgies
reached iis cars. At length these gradually ceased,

and all was silent, save the occasional heavy tramp .

of a watchman above his head. His first act, on
bein left to himself had been devoutlv lo otter

than a to Heaven that he was no murderer. He ‘

now began to feel a love for life, and to contem late
escape. Ho carefully examined the sides 0 the

vault, and oven the arched roof. to see if possible 1

egress might not be made into the street over his
head. But the closer be scrutinized the place. the

ﬁrmer his convictions were that he could not escape. .

There was no kind of instrument in the cell, and no
outlet, save the door b which he entered.

Escape is impossib e. I will meet my fate on the
morrow with resignation. I will die rather than
sacriﬁce in into lty."

He was s rtle byla slight noise at his door. He
listened and heard t 3 key turn in it. The idea of
massination entered his thoughts, and while he
committed his soul to God, he resolved to defend his
life. He stood back and the door opened and in-
stantly closed. All was dark, save a faint learn
from the revel ball through the door are it c osod.
He felt some one was present in the cell with him.
Each instant he waited for a blow from some un-
seen hand. Suddenly a dark lantern was sprung,
and the cell was ﬂlle with light. The shade of the
lantern prevented him from discoverl who held
it; but he could see that it was a fema. e. She ap-
proached him. slight] averting the direction of the
myls. and he saw, to is surprise. that it was Hotty

“Henry Hayward," she said, at once addressin
him. though in a low, cautious tone. “it is resolve
that on are to be starved to death in this place."

“ d0d have mercy on my soul.“ groaned Hay-
war .

“ Yet you have one mode of escaping this fate.“

“Name it and I will bless ou."

"Sign this condition of t e secret society;" and
this extraordinary young girl took from her bosom
a paper. and unrolied it before him. It contained,
he saw at a glance, several resolutions, and append-
cd to them were upward of one hundred signatures.
at the head of which were Morris Graeme‘s and
George Carleton‘s. She set down the lantern. and
holding the parchment toward him. offered him a
pen in an inkstand.

“Who sent you hither?"

“ Carleton.‘

“ And Morris Gnome?“

“ He says his own vengeance will be complete
cnough if you sign it."

“And now read the regulations." asked Henry,
earnestly.

“That whoever subscribes to them obsysall or-
ders of the chief, to whose commands those both of
God and man are merely secondary. It is but your
name—a mere scratch of the pen!

“ Which the tears of angels could never blot out!
No. never! I will die, if such be my fate; but it Will
be with the sweet consciousness of loving life less
than God‘s laws.“

“ Then on will perishl
for you rave a. brave and noble nature!
may become the clrlef of the band i"

“ Woman, urge me not. 1am ready to die—never
ready to sacriﬁce my integrity."

The youn irl gazed a few moments on his pals
face, after 9 ad ﬁrmly and calmly thus replied to
her with a look of admiration and surprise.

:th is your decision, then?"

u

I am sorry for you.
You

“ You will perish slowly. day by day, not a mouth-
ful of bread given you."

“Man lives not by bread alone, but (by obedience
to the words and commandments of G .”

“ Water will not even be given you.“

“ There is a well of living water, of which I shall
soon drink and never thirst aln.‘

“ I do not understand you. ut will you perish for
a mere scratch of a. pen "

“ You have my answer. ”

she slowly folded up the paper and replaced it in
her bosom took the sonar mm the ground, and
then said, in a. low, earnest tone, “ Follow me.‘

“ Whither?”

“ Do you, who fear not to die. fear to follow where

a youn lrl leads ?"
‘ I y el or self to your guidance."
She softly from the cell, and led him

throug the halls of the late revels. windingher way
htly and noiselessly among drunken sleepers, un-
ltililshe came into the long p e leadii beneath
Gmme‘s dwelling, by w icb ayward ad ﬁrst
found hisway to the banquet room. Surprised
wondering, yet unhesitatuig. he followed her uni:
she came to the basement room beneath the house.
From this, instead of going up into the chambers
occupied by Gnome. she turned aside into a narrow
entry. and after traversing it, ascended a broken
ﬂight of steps. into an em ty aﬁartment. This she
traversed and oponin a cor. ayward found him-
self in t e same bﬁliard room he had passed
thro hon his ﬁrst visit with Morris Grams. He
knew but the way to the rear entrance of the dwel-
ling lay thro h this room, and his mind was in-
stantly ﬁlled W th the hope of escape_ She. howev.
er. gave him no time for reﬂectmn but led him at
once into tuggan already familiar to him, and at
le th stop .an threw the ll ht of her lantern
f upon the door. which he wel knew led into the
lane. How wildly his heart beat at the idea of libcr’
t . And was th s strange girl leading him to free-
om? She, who but a. few moments before, was
tom ling him, with all the allurements and ar .
men in her power to sign the constitution of t e
band asthe only alternative of life? is he was
bewildered with the thoughtsthc seem inconsis-
teuoy or her conduct created in his min .9110 said,
in the free. trunk tone characteristic of her:
“You are now at liberty. 11 3’0“ had Signed "118
gﬁgégamd you. you nevertholcsa would havo
“You are s gimp girl! Worthy, though thus
melatod " said Hayward, who was struck with her
words. and the mm on and el uencc or her
lunar. “ You have s m a)". mud

 
you; and aheart that kindl cultivated would pro-
duce excellent i‘ruit. Why ( 0 you remain associath
with those on despise. and whose errors you are
conscious 0 Y"

“ A woman once fallen can never rise a sin," she
answered, with an energy and athos iha startled
him. “lint let us not waste tme here. You are
free!" and. placing a. key in the lock. she threw
open the door, and the free air blew cool and re-
freshing upon the late prisoner’s brow. “ Go, and re-
member me, if there is not guilt in the remembrance
of one so guilty."

Hayward would have spoken, but his cmoi ion and
symplath were too great for uitcrnncc. and, press-
ing or rand to his lips. and bidding “God bless
her." he left her, followed 1) a low and touching
"farewell!" in a tone that lo i’clt he should re-
member to his dying day. The next moment the
door closed behind him, and he took his way rapidly
up the lane. As he reached the main street tho city
clock tolled four. To rcvivo his spirits, he walked
toward the Battery. and there lingered, with the
ha. and misty islands bcfore him, till the sun rose.
re ectng upon the strange scenes through which he
had passed.

The morning was intensely hot, and fasting,
fatigue, and excitement, with the action of the sun,
created a fever of his brain, which began to alarm
him. It was now eight o'clock. and few ersons
were walking there save nurses and juveniloc argcs.
and bachelor gentlemen taking their solitary morn-
ing promenade. He reclined upon one of the settees
awhile, and finding himself becoming much worse
and that his mind wandered he rose up and walked
toward the gate, to find she ter in some public bar-
room, till he should be better. He succeeded in
reachiu the gale and o reuing it, when he staggered
town and fell. At iis moment a carriage was
turning out of Broadway toward tho Brighton fcri ,
containing a entlemim and two ladies. Tho gent e-
man, on seeng him fall, regarded him as some
person intoxicated, and was turning away, when the
young lady slightly shriokcd. and cried lo the coach-
man to stop. A second glauco told Col. Powel. who
had left his country seat, with his wife and Kate,
early that morning. to spend a few do '5 at Brighton,
that the person w 0 had fallen so 11' clcss was the

oung man who had saved his children’s lives. He

tantly sprung from the carriage. and Hayward
was placed in it, while the coachmnn received orders
to return at once to his house, which was six miles

from the cit . They saw, as (hey gazed upon him as
ggﬂrode, t at he was sufferln with high fever, and
a

5 up a physician with t cm, soon arrlvcd
their estinat on. Here he was placed in a comfort-
able chamber and every attention was bestowed
upon him by the family which the impulses of grati-
tude dictated. Ignorant of his namc, they sou ht
not to penetrate the mystery that hung 1 round him.
nor to ask if he were evil or good; but they thou lit
only of saving that life which had been so no 1y
risked for those of their children.

CHAPTER x.
A ma non. A um

Wm our hero awoke to consciousness from the
state of'inscnslbility into which he had fallen, ho
founl himself in a chamber richly furnished with
curtains of blue silk to the ‘bed, and damask dra-
pery drawn before the windows, through which a.
soft, dreamy light was diffused throughout the
apartment. He gazed around him with surprise, and
for some minutes could not recollect himself. At
length the scenes he had gone through came u to
his memory, and he remembered that he laid at
known himself to be in a room of the prison, sur-
rounded by the low and vicious. Ho then recalled to
mind Morris Gimme and instantly the idea ﬂashed

n his thoughts that he was in the chambers of
t at guilty oun man.

He starts at t re idea and lifting himself from the
pillow, as if to rise. fell back instantly from weak-
ness. He caughta glimpse of his face in a mirror,
and saw that it was thin and deadly pale. His arm
fielt sore. and looking at it, he saw that it was ban-

a .

‘ggidow lon can I have been insensible?“ he said to
himself. “ eappears to me tbatit has been an age!
I have been bl —I sure! have been ill! I have some
indistinct recollection o strange cvcnts——of I know
not whatr—of the min led evil and cod—cf the
bright and happ and ark and guilt Where am
1! Can this be orris Graeme‘s room I am alone;
I will 0 the window and draw the curtain; a glance
into aft ‘9 street will tell me if I am his involuntary
gue ‘

0n the chair by his bedside was a gentleman‘s
morning wra per. With some exertion, and exhib-
iting great de ihty. he at to his feet. and threw the
garment about him. 0 was as pale as an invalid
months conﬁned. and looked wasted and delicate,
like one in a consumption.

“ It is strange.“ ho thou ht. wondering. "that one
do. should have made me achango in me! I am
he pless ass. child! How wasted my wrist is; how
thin my ﬁngers! Surely I have been very ill without
being aware of it! for my brain is ﬁlled with strange
visitations of memory from the post! How strange
that 1am here! How strange that I am left alone!"

By the aid of a. hand upon the chair and the assist-
ance of his other hand u n the cone , he made his
“11M way over the t ck, soft carpet to the win-
dow. o ut aside the curtain, and to his uns cak-
able surpr so. his gaze fell not upon masses of rick
ediﬁces. towers and congregated roofs, but upon a.
green lawn. slo ing to a. beautiful expanse of water,
with verdant anks beyond. adorned with villas,
groves and gardens.

“ Where am I?" he murmured.

While he was putting this question to himself. the
door of the chamber, which was ajar. softly o n-
ed, and a hand with a. vial in it. and then a ace.
gent! appeared. The countenance was that of a
midd e-aged woman, in a. neat cap and black silk
kerchiof. She glanced toward the bed. and stoned
with surg‘ise 5. seems it vacant. A look toward the
window ld her what had become of its late occu-

t.
pavyﬂth a look of alarm she retreated from tho cham-

 
ber, leaving £16an at the Window. The moment
aftsrw s. and beautiful girl stoic softly
into than and with a timid. yet decided

men 

ste,a roachedtcsotwhorchsstocd. twas
Ksanng , "

 
15

She was slight and graceful in arson with the
richest dark brown hair in the wor d, half gathered
about her head. half loose over her fair shoulders.
Her c as were the softest hazel in their hue. heavily
liddc . and full of feeling and truth. She was a
brunette with a delicate rose huc shading her soft
check. lier mouth was ﬁrm! shaped, yet sweetly
beautiful. She was indeed a ovc
of natuc. a bright, artlcss girl, wit sunshine in her
face. and oodncss in her heart. The error y and
self-sacriﬁc rig nature of her character is a ready
known by those who remember the scenes in tho
third chapter of Ibis romance.

She now come in softly, with a look of an rise
and gentle sympathy upon her featurcs. iowar the
place where llcnry stood with his back toward her.

A gentle hand was laid upon his arm! The touch
thril ed to his heart! He turncd,nnd the smiin .
lia py face of Kate Powcl met his aze! The i‘ntc -
lcc ual countenance of the invalii kindch with a
glow of surprise and leasnre, while his emotion
was so gig-at as to near y ovcrccnw him. An otto-
man was in tho window, and linlf through debility.
half by her gentle forco, he sunk upon it.

“So, sir invalid,“ she said, blushing whllc she re-
proved, "so you have taken it upon yourself to not
without your medical adviser, and taking advantage
of old nurse‘i'. momentary abncllcc, to run to the
window! But" she addcd, with feelin , and in a
low, touching one, “this is no way tog \‘o ackncwlv
edgment for the cat blessing of your convales-
ccncc! Thank Go for-it." And the warm-hearted,
enthusiastic girl pressed his hand.

He sought or eyes. “Am I dreamingWssid he.

“You have indeed been lon strangely and wildly
dreaming." she said feelingy; “but now, than
heaven, you are awake to reason and consciousness."

“But one—one moment dearest vision. for I am
still incredulous-tell me if I have boon illl"

“ lllany, many weeks,“ she said, smiling at his sur-
prise.

“And how came—"

“Nay, nay." she said, “you must not talk. You
will have a return of fever and dcllriuni.“

"Then haveI been delirious? I must bcso now.
and imagine I liarc the happiness of seeing and con-
versing with you."

“Mind me. slri you must not speak. Go to bed
and after you have had another night‘s rest. I will
come and see you. and let on talk a little."

“And will you tell me A! i“ he asked smiling.

“All cxcc t what and whom you in ked about ll
your fever ‘ she said, srchly. “ That 1 will keep to
myself. Oh! you have told such a great many
secrets."

“th none, save that of my pover I would fear
to disclose to all the world,“ snsworc Icnry, firmly.

“Did you not have one you would have kiptl“ she
added in a low tone, but without awaiting a reply.
tho ﬂed from the recur. and Henry Hayward was
again alone; yet from that moment he was I
c longed man.

chks rolled on, and Hayward was still the honored
guest of Colonel Powel. Duty compelled him to
write to his father, recount the story of his late ad-
ventures. and explain his resent osiiion. He was
both sur .rised and grail ed at t 0 answer he re.
ceivcd. he lciier contained the a eeable intelliv
pence that the Rev. Mr. Hayward, e tlrer from the

nine of his talents, or the inﬂucnco of some power-
ful friends, had received an inviiaiicn from a metro-
politan parish. where he was living res ectcd and
conienicd. The reverse ho had suffered rad taught
him, as well as his son, a useful lesson, and he now
deplored, in affecting language, the errors he had
committed.

Tire winter sun was setting on a. landscape which
the severity of the season had clothed with its
peculiar charms, glowing through the tracery of the

ranches in the woods. est-h limb and twi of which
were laden with glittering icicles that mu tipllcd its
rays, and pour-in a flood of light through the spark-
llr g frostwork o the windows in thc Gothic library,
where Henry sat in communion with his host.

“The time income, sir," said the former " for ms
to set forth againupon my wayfaring. Sic’kno-rs and
npptfortune have too long rendered me an lnnciivs
v s or.“

“Say, rather. an honored guest,“ l‘cplicd Cr lonel
Powel. “M on in me you have found a scc( rid
father. Suc I will be to you, nor shall an scru ll"
of yours 1prevent my actin as such. ood od,
what wou d this house have m but for you. This
mansion would have been—what should I have been
but for your—this mansion would have been a house
of mourning; and, as for me. I should have lald my

my halrsw th sorrow in the grave. To you we own

e. and all that makes life pleasant and endurable."

Hayward vainly endeavored to check the colonel!
ox ression of his ratitude.

‘ Sir,“ said Co onel Powcl, “I see 1 must use
authority over you. I haven’t forgotten that I_ 11st
been a soldier nor laid aside, with the profession of
arms the military habit of dictation. I'his is to be
your home. I am not past service yet. thank God-

utlho care of my pro ert is growing somew
onerous, and I wish to s lft ts burden upon younger
shouldcis. If you consent to act as .nt for me,
you will ﬁnd enough to do, and your ensure hours
may be devoted to the studies you love. Believe me,
I know all that has passed between you and Rate.
You loved each other when you know nothing about
each other. like a couple of young fools excuse me,
as you were, and I liked you the better or it. like as
old fool as I was. chem. You know what your
French author 59, 's—qui rit sans/ill n‘rﬂ pus mi sag:
qu‘il rrm‘r—‘ he w 0 lives without folly is not so wise
as he thinks himself.‘ "

“ it was fol , sir—madness. for me to aspire to tho
band of Miss owel."

“It was no such thing. oungster. Kate Powsl.
though I say it. that sho dn‘t say it. is the very
ﬁnest girl in New York, perhaps in the world‘ but
what of that? Aren‘t you the ﬁnest the noblest
young follow that over trod the earth? You need not
answer me. I know you are.“

“ Alas sir, I am poor." falter-ed Hayward. with a
faint smile.

“I know You are—what of that? Rich men's vans
are good for nothln -snd Kate should nevcr many
sac of tho rascals. always said u~ I always meant
so. For wh ? Hasn‘t she a fortune of her own,
and what's s use of joining two great fortunes: it
only fosters cxtrsvsgnoo. Is there you lian tho-

crcaturc. a child

 
s

' terriﬁed by the adventure, and, tho

"16

The'Sea VA Slipper.

 
uT x:

miter lain before on. Kate loves you, you love
her, an I love you th: and if you go to refuse to
In? her, and break the hearts of all three, hang
me I don‘t shoot you; that’s one consolatio ."
Could the heart of a deeply enamored lov r hold
out against the combined assaults of passion, and the
union of argument, whim, benevolence, and menace
rhicllidtlae gallant colonel brought against it? Noi
t e e .
to and Hen were married. Romances, in two
volumes, ay an shorter tales like ours. and fre-
quently the dramas of real life, end with amarrlage;

but the romance of Henry and his bride did not ter- ,

minate with their wedding.

Hayward found plenty of in-door employment for
the winter months, for e was engaged u on a lite-
rary work, his first essay as an author. t was ub-
lished anonymously for Hayward had no arub tion
to become a lion, and the success of his work, for it
was trium hantly successful, was dearer to him.
when it lig ted u the countenances of his home
companions, than I he had induced the multitude
to gaze upon him, with looks of admiration, when-
ever he went forth. His success, and the turn of
his mind, determined him to lead a literary life.

CHAPTER XI.
nmcns mmnv‘s ADVENTURE.

Luvnm Henry Ha ward and his beautiful wife
enjoying their bhssfu hone moon for awhile, I will
return to the Amateur Free ooters.

From a treacherous member of the Secret League
the police obtained knowlod e of their resort, and
laid a plot to bring them to justice: but they
were too much on the alert to be caught in a snare,
and when the oﬁicers of justice gained possession
of their den they had ﬂed to other scenes; but their
beautiful vessel, the Sea Slipper, was ca turod and
restored to her former owner, and by im sold to
Colonel Powel as a yacht, notwithstanding her for-
mer bad name as a buccaneering craft.

When the spri came Blanche Hills made her

romlsed visit to t e Powel mansion, an one sunny
gay in J une she was seated upon the river bank in a.
rustic chair, her bonnet fallen back, her book drop-
pin idly from her fair hand, and her eye looked

ist essly upon the sparkling waters, as they danced
beneath the golden sun: while her senses were lulled
by the near and monotonous plash of oars from a
boat which was pulling along shore, hidden, how
ever, from her view by rocks and foliage. The ces-
sation of the chiming strokes roused her from her
reverie and at the same time Neptune sprung before
her an commenced barking furiously.

' Down, sir, down," crie Blanche, and the do
obeyed her musical voice; but his erect head on
bristling hair testiﬁed his watchfulness. A rustling
in the busheesdpreceded the appearance of a man,
who struggl through them, as he climbed the sur-
face of a rock, and then raised himself to full hight,
as he attained the level ground. His cheek was ale
and somewhat emaciated; his eyes had lost muc of
their recklessness and ﬁre. and yet Blanche recog-
nized in the form and face before her the former
commander of the Sea. Slipper. and who had so dar-

ly boarded the brigantine in the Sound.

ttering a sup ressed cry, it drew the attention
of Carleton upon er, and he paused and exclaimed:

“ You here? I dreamed not of this hup Hula-as.
Hap was I" be repeated, with a sneer as i ques-
tio his own expression. “ Yes, it is happiness to
gaze upon so innocent a face.“ _

Blanche resisteda sort of fascination which im-
pelled hertoreniain, and, without one word in re-

ly, turned to depart; but Carleton anticipated her

tentipli}, and ﬂung himse f in her way, and said,
earnes :
“ ear me. lady! I am a broken-hearted man—-
ruined in reputation and in fortune. I am only
seeki an honorable death, though there was a. time
when might have looked to a companionship with
- es—even such as you; but that is past."

‘Yon may live towipe out the stain upon your
name, did you so please,” said Blanche, commiser-
ctin the mental suffering he evinced.

" ever! yet listen to me! I hoped to die on the
deck of fame, but there is no war pending now, and
the stars and stripes swee the seas in triumph; but
I go where there is dea at least, if not glory—
sgainst the Mexicans.“

‘To encounter death!" asked Blanche, not un-

“ o certain death, for I have sworn to sacriﬁce
this hated life; but you, fair one, whose name I have
breathed 0 when my thoughts were purest—who
taught me a a glance to believe there might be one
woman innocen and pure— on me for the insult
that I dared to offer on our former meeting, and
pro for me when I am no."

“ ve me, sir," sai Blanche: “I pity you—I

pardon {on}

“00, t on " said Carleton, rising, and stepping
slide, while be folded his arms 11 n his breast; “
have but one more request to m 'e of yon—do not
breathe to human being, but last of all to Hayward,
that you have seen me here, until a day at least has

I exact no promise, madam for I know
your nature is too. generous to permit you to add

we! ht to ry.’

Bfanche bowed her head in assent, turned, and
with a beat heart and pallid cheek, rushed home,
and retired her chamber. She was thoroughl
h her woman s
heart felt some com ion for t e outlaw, her
reason whispered her thatan actual animal: from
society was very different from the rouleur do rose at-
tractions of him given in the novels of the Minerva

Press. -

That night her pretty head rested uneasily upon
her pillow for many wild visions ﬂitted through it.
About mi she rose from her couch, and seat-
ing heﬂplf at the window, gazed upon the beautiful
scene mthont. The round, full. moon was high up
in the heavens, and shone on the titled waters, whose
surface grew each moment rougher, under the effect
of a fresh and increasi breeze from the west.
The Sea Slipper rode rest essly at anchor. as if im-
patient to spread her sno
waters like a hoe ant sea lrd. An , lo! as she
aged upon the so ooner Blanche Hillary thongs:

perceived mo on her deck. Was
a sport of her in tleni Some ﬁgures clustered
near the schooner s bowshand it actually seemed as
ithsrheadswungfree. ugglshly, now, she shook

 
Winemand skim the 

 
out her sails, as if by an act of volition. There could

be no mistake. Up went the pump-sail; the main-
sail e ded its utmost tension; t e s uare fore-
sail, i and ﬂying-jib were hoisted simu taneously.
A tal figure a peared at the stern, restin on the
tiller. the boil 3‘ sails ﬁlled freely with t 0 wind,
and, with a rushing sound like that of many wings,
the Sea Slipper was once more upon the waters.

The exclamations of Blanche aroused Colonel
Powel. who slept in on adjoinin room, from his ii. at
dee slumber. He. in turn, c ed up Hayward and
bill a. dozen heads, black and white, appeared mm
as many windows simultaneous , but regret and
pursuit were alike unavailing, for, at, far away, fast
vanishing from view, they saw the tall spars of the
Sea ‘lipper fadi into the deep-blue summer heaven,
and er white sai shimmering in the ghost! moon-
shine, like the cloud canvas of the Storm S 'p.
the morning Blanc 1o related her adventure, and
none of her auditors entertained a doubt that the
Sea Slipper had fallen again into the hands of her
first commander.

 
CHAPTER XII.
ms ans suprnrt‘s FLIGHT.

I'r was indeed no dream of BlancheHillary, for the
Sea Slipger was again upon the waters under the
comnian of her during young ca tain, who with a.
number of trusted and reckless fo owers had taken
possession of her.

Once headed for open water, Carleton left the helm
to another, and walking to the stern stood with
folded arms azing in the direction of Colonel Pow-
el’s villa, until it was lost to view by an intervening
headland.

Then he murmured in a low, sad voice:

“Now fare thee well. sweet lady, but twice only
have I met thee, and yet my inmost heart has been
moved b ' thy race and beaut .

“Yet, am espised—nay, pitied and forgiven; a
Cﬁlgllélal to be pardoned; an outcast to be commis-
era e .

“ And yet such am I, and to think of her is folly,
for love me she never can; on me never will beam
her soft eyes in love; and yet, never shall they open
on another."

The last words he said with intense feeling and
turning he paced the deck with a quick tread for
awhile; then be halted, and leaning over the taffrail
looked down into the dark waters as the ﬂeet vessel
ﬂew along.

Sudden y a hand fell lightly on his shoulder, and
he started, for he had heard no footsteps, and looked
into a face that was gazing into his own.

It was a woman‘s lace. and ab! how darkly beau-
tiful! Now full of ex *i'ession, love and 'on; she
moved not her hand rom its entle an timid rest-
ing place upon his am; but is bent downward her
gaze as it encountered the stern, angry, surprised
glance that met her look.

"Eve," he at length repeated in a tone of dis-
pleasure.

“Be not angry, dear Carleton," she said, layin
her other arm upon his shoulder as if to soothe an
caress him into gentleness.

“ How came you on board? Not in the boats
surely? DidI not forbid you following me further?
We are nothing to each other now, Eve."

“Yet you are every thing to me, Carleton!" she
answered passionately. ‘ For you 1 have sacri-
ﬁced all dear to woman in this life; nay, all dear to
her bcin in the life to come! for my love to you is
crime to ' eaven, for! worship thee and thou art
may god! In thee I live and exist, and out of thee
a is dark and unlovely! Heaven is where thou
art — hell where thou art not! Nay, Carle-
ton, bend not those eyes upon me in wrath
that once only beamed upon me with love, and
shone ever into my heart like the summer sun-
shine upon the fountain, in whose faithful bosom is
mirrored its own bright image, Thus is thy image
mirrored in my bosom, Carleton, and though thou
my son seest it not for the clouds that thy wayward
humor ath drawn between, yet ’tls there."

“This is idle, Eve,"he said with im atience, yet
in atone in which her sensitive ear de ected a. eu-
tler mood than he would show. “ But how is it hat
I ﬁnd you here when four hours since I left you in
the city 1” ’

“Carleton, your presence is to me life! our ab-
sence the darkness of the tomb to m soul! on told
me not—you breathed not to me w on you bade me
farewell, and commanded me to orget you, that you
were going to leave me forever. My cart is a faith-
ful monitor, and love has an omnisciency that is not
of earth. I secretly followed on to the lace in the
Park, where on met Morris name, and card your
plot arran e I heard you tell him how you had
the day be ore seen the schooner riding at her an-
chor, and was conﬁdent that with twenty good men
{Ion could cut her out, that it must be done to-mght.

orris Graeme told you he could have the men in
one hour, if you would provide boats to proceed to
the cove."

“ And you overheard all this! Stupid that I was!
Others were listeners too!“

“ No! I stood cautiously in the shadow of the trees
beneath which you met. After being satisﬁed of your
intentio I watched OUI departure together. I
then in e up my min , and re urning to my room,
selected a wardrobe, and seeking the carriage stand,
drove rapidly along the water-road, until I saw the
spiral masts of the Sea. Slipper glittering in the
moonl: ht above the trees. ﬁere dismissin the
coach. proceeded on foot through the woods lawn
to the silent cove. All was still and strangely beau-
tiful. I thought sweetly of you Carleton, kindly of
all things, and solemnly of - eaven! The stars
gazed down holy and still like eyes of love and
watchfulness; the branches of the trees deIpendin
over the water waved gently in the low big 1: win i
the moonbeams slog; upon the quiet water and the

on award bones the trees smiled as they fell

rough the branches of the trees 'u on it. Oh, I
shall never forget the thoughts that iled my soul
as I stood on that a t of lonely loveliness and peace!
I could hear my cart neat! My eyes ﬁlled With
tears, and my inmost nature felt that God was
there! The stars repeated, God is here! the winds
sighed through the ve, God is here! the moon-
lit waters smiled od is here! and avoieeinmy
bosom echoed. God is everyw e. Oh I,
if you had been with me you would have believed!

‘ But, my’ little Eve," in said smiling, and tap-

! .
- 'p.».

-ing mass.

 
mm

ping her ,brow, “ this deckls no Bishop's desk. I.
would hear thy tale, rather!" His blow, though
slightly overcast, was no longer forbidding, and as
his features were lighted up with the smda that
came upon them like the ” summer sunshine,“ and
were exceedingly ﬁne and expressive. She smiled
as he smiled, i e a fountain reﬂecting the sun‘
beam, and leaning her hand a moment on his
manly bosom, she breathed in a. low, grateful tone.
“ Good, noble, generous Carleton!"

" But to thy story, Eve. I would know the mys-
tery of thy presence here.“ he said playfully; “ but
do not give me a history. child, beseech thee!
Thy fait is a. way one, and certainly hath made
theo most poet call‘

“I looked along the dark, shadowy shore of the
romantic inlet, and at length discovered a heat so-
cured to the bank. I s rung into this, and rcleasiu
it from the land with t e aid of an oar soon renche
the schooner, which as I approached it, seemed like
a beautiful thing 0 life sleeping upon the water.
AsIstepped on board I sent the boat shorewaid
with a. push, but it long ﬂoated about dist rossed and
lost ere I saw it cast upon the land far from where
I embarked. How lonely then was the quiet deck
and all around! I seemed the only living being on
earth! To relieve the oppressiug sense of loneli-
ness I leaned here, where you now lean, Carleton,
and bent my cm long and steadily in the direction
from which_I ooked for your boat. Weai‘il passed
the hours, till the moon had got to the mid- eavcns
and many a new and strangely bright star bad
man from the East and ascended far into the
skies. I knew it was midnight, and yet the
some deep, unbroken repose reigned around! I
grew nervous, and then began to feel alarm!

at I knew you would come! I knew whatever
you and Morris Graeme undertook, you would
accomplish. I trusted and hoped and waited with
my eyes still watchin the far water. At length the
soft night wind, that ad moaned thro h the wood
on shore like the sound of a far off and ndistlnctor-
gen breathing a. requiem for the dead, began to
strengthen and to curl the surface of the water. The
ripple soon increased to small heaving waves and
these soon broke heavin up delicate pearls of
foam. These pear were 8 attcred before the rude-
! increasing Wind and melted into snow caps and
t e Sea Slipper be an to more; at rat, with a

entle murmur abou her bows; but the motion soon
ecame quite apparent and it was not long before
as if instinct Wit life and feeling the free seawar
wind, she began to fret and champ at her curbing
chain like a spirited warshorsc impatiently held in
when the trumpet sounds the charge. I can ht the
spirit of the time, Carletcn, and as I looke up to
t e tall masts and saw the sails bound to the slender
ards, Ifclt adesire to ossess the power to un-
toosenthem to the win s and let the noble vessel
rec.

“Brave and beautiful. Thou art worthy to be a
sailor‘s bride, Eve," he said, with admiration. “and
now I dare say if we had not come as we did, you
would have to owed the bent of our mind and gone
to the mast-head and let her ssHs ﬂy, and severed
the cable and set her free."

Carleton I should not have one leaving thee

behind,”ehe said, with fee . ‘ But my longing -

gaze in the direction of the c ty was at length 1‘0-
warded. I saw a dark object scarcely distinguisha-
ble from the deep shadows of the shore along which
it seemed to has ealing as if for covert. I watched
its progress With a bounding heart and hushed
breathing- I feared it would vanish; that my wishes
had created to the eye what my heart would have
had there! But onward swiftly and silent] it came
—gradual.ly its outline became distinct, an I could
then hear faintly the mufﬂer! fall of cars! Ihent
over the quarter-railin in earnest scrutiny as I dis-
cerned forms of men s ding out in the dark mov-
Suddenly the advancing barge shot out
from the deep covert of the shore into the broad
moonlight, and I recognized in the stern, not your
commanding ﬁgure, noble Carleton, but Morris
Graeme‘s! y heart sunk within me. Had I placed
myself in that reckless man‘s power? The be. e
now come nearer and clearer into view toward {ﬁe
schooner; and, joy! I saw you stand up in her hows,
your rson revea edboldlyanddistinc lya ainstihe

righ water. Your roud e ewas urcnbe object
of your daring adven are, an you stood as if im a-
iient to leap on board and once more tread er
decks her lord. " -

“Thou didst see and read me aright, Eve. Yet I
with“? no” t be di d, d k

‘ earmgnow o scovere , an new in

life and blippiness were near, I hastenedmsron’i
my post 0 watching and descended to secrete
myself in the cabin; as I reached it,I heard your
foot strike u on the deck. In one of the go us-
ly furnishe state-rooms I remained uni the
hustle and confusion of getting under we had
subsided, when, with a prayer in my cart
for courage, and strengthened by my love, I
came from In covert into the main cabin. Morris
Graeme was t ere. Before I could retreat he discov-
eredéne, Iwith thgaeftilamﬁtiopﬁ h ed”.

‘ ve nnes. re on as on c an mind.
He said he was to leave thee behind.’ ‘

" ‘ He knows nothing of my being here. ,I learned
"ll’lli‘m" i““°“.’£ ed it?" t b l ‘

e rue,_ ouw no a on our est.
lady,‘ he said, significantly, and‘ then urned‘ilrcm
me. Icame to the deck and beheld you leaning
moodily over the uarter. I knew you were unba
py—I knew, Carle on, you weretlinliing of cur e-
sertod Eve! and were repealing that you ad left
her. Ia proachedin the trusting stungth of ny

love, an in the remembrance how dearly once you _

loved me. But when I met your frown—
The f. w last words of this strap e, beautiful crea-
ture, who hung on his arm and oscm were not
leasanttohim. He knew he was not thinking of
ve, but of Blanche Hillary. His darkenlr brew
checked her voice. He drew himself from er ca-
ress! she bent her head and misinterpreting the
cause of the sudden displeasure in his looks, the

as d-

“ﬂay, forgive me! Invent not tore
because on frowned. In sin but near ee, Carle-
ton,I gladly let the. from upon me! I will
karate love even thy frowns. because tum, and
strive to convert them into smiles."

Iknewnclwhetherto be pleased or angry a.

\

ethee,’

 
' more trod herdecks.”

. she was lovely, and devoted as she was imprudent,

 
thy Conduct, Eve," said Carleton, after remainin
silent a few moments, while her dark eyes watch
with eloquent emotion,the troubled expression of
his countenance. “ But at resent thou mayest re«
mainl Return into the cab n, and by and by I will
tell thee what my decision is. ‘

" Oh, Carleton, listen not to Morris Graame. Thou
knowest he loves me not well. Listen onlyto the
voice of lm e in your own generous bosom."

“Fear not, Eve, I will do thee no wrongl Morris
thou well knowest will be in none of my counsels
touching theel I have not forgotten that thy love
and honor met, with proper reproof, his licentlous
freedom, and that he is no ﬁt conﬁdant between me
and thee. Good-night, Eve."

Softl she repeated the words, and then slowly re-
tired rom the deck, passing on the way Morris
Graeme, who haughtily stepped aside for her to pass.
He then walked aft to the spot where Carleton stood
leani tho htfully over t e quarter railing, look-
ing w‘l anuiﬁisent gaze down upon the eddyinCr wa-
tersas they danced and hurried away beneat the
counter of the rapidly moving vessel.

 
CHAPTER XIII.
was No OFFICERS.

THE oung captain heard the step of his lieuten-
ant as e came aft, and instantly a terin his si-
tion, and changin the whole express on 0 his
countenance, he (1 to him in a cheerful, congratu-
latoa tone: .

“ ell Morris, we have succeeded beyond our
hopes. here we have beneath us, once more, our
tried friend. ‘ The Sea Slipper,‘ who is bounding over
the waves again as if she knew her master once

“Yes, Carleton, we have achieved a gallant deed,
and one becoming usl" answered Gimme. See
how gracefully the pretty creature carriesn herself,
and how merrily she dances to the breeze, he add-
ed, his eye roudly watching her as she moved
swiftly and most noiselessiy through the water.
“But, Carleton, we have on board a— ‘

“ Yes," interrupted Carleton, who evidently de-
sired to avoid allusion to Eve “ no doubt plenty of
stores, for I learned that Colonel Powel had her
ﬁtted for a cruise on which he was going to start to-
morrow evening. But I shall have the runs and
hold examined as soon as it is day; and also see how
we are off for spars, duck and especially small
arms.“

“ I have been examining the racks, and ﬁnd two
pairs of horse pistols a ri e and two Manton nus,
with a born or two of powder and a case of ba 5."

“These with the pistols and side-arms which we
brought in the boat, will be of service to help us
to more. I ﬁnd the gun- rts are not scaled up, asI
feared the would have en when converted into a
yacht, an we must somehow manage to ﬁnd guns
for them. Her former guns are sold, and are now
dispersed in half-a—dozen merchant-men."

‘ I thought we were to have no passengers, Cap-
tain Carleton " abruptly spoke Graeme, seeing his
chief disposed to avoid the subJect of his thoughts.

“I am commander of my own vessel,“ answered
Carleton, his haughty and quick spirit breaking
out.

“ If you are to carry our lemaii I will carry
mine.” answered Morris arsenic. “ When I asked
you that I might decide what to do With reference
to Ellen. you said we were to leave bothl How is it
now that find Eve Innes on-board?"

“Morris,” said Carleton, in a quiet manner, and
speaking in a sin ly distinct undertone peculiar
to him when mnc moved, “I do not wish to have a
difference with you, nor will 1. Eve herself told you
in the cabin, for on knew of her presence here be-
fore I did. that;1 e became aware of our intention
and ant cl ate us. ‘

“ What lg our purgfse with her?” asked, or rath-
er demand Morris, alf crossing the deck and re-

in .

“I gave come to no determination. Morris,“ he
said, more naturally. “She is resolved to accom-
pan me. and I don‘t know how I can avoid it."

“ ‘ . The shore is not two hundred fathoms
distant and the quarter boat hangs from the
cranes.“

I‘I understand you; butIhave not made u my

nd,” answered Carleton, evidently trouble and
undecided. “ The tru h is, Morris, I do not want
her here, neither do I e to put her on shore. Her
livgly‘presence will relieve the tedium of my cruise,
an —-

“The truth is, non preconcerted the meet on
board. and she here by our ap mmtmen . I
watched her ﬁrst meeting wl you. on betrayed
by no start of surprise our ignorance of her being
on board. You have ecelved me, Carleton. Not
that I care to have her here.“

“Upon my life, Morris, I did you ,no wro . If
you say, send Eve ashore, I will do so. And rle-
ion fixed his aze upon the face of his lieutenant
and friend. wlth a look as if he feared he would re-
quire the alternative. _

Gimme paused a moment and then With a 
lar expression darkening his handsome but v ce-
hardened countenance he said dryly:

“ I have no wish to dictate to on, Carleton. As
she is on board. let her remain, an the whole," he
added. wade“) Ch“ “18 .1118 manner, “ I am not
sorry to get n of en. for she has grown very
graspinglkand bold, of late, and I detest anything in a
woman ' e boldness or want of modesty. she was
once a sweet, lovin .girl, and I would have married
her had I romaine in society; for we were engaged
beforel was in college.

N“Indeed? Idid not know you knew hex- out of
ew York." ’

“ Yes. When she heard Ihad left the college and
was in New York she wrote me that her esteem and
love for me were unchanged, a that if I would
consent she would ﬂy from her ather’s roof and 7
Shaw my fortunes."

“ Of course she kne not what those fortunes
were?" observed Carleton, at the same time giving
:31 (irder aside to the helmsrﬁan to luff a little more

‘3 W a 00p at anchor a . .

“N°.”‘answered Mon-ls Grams, lightly la hing.

“ She came and I met her at the hotel. Ail-{fess as

 
I received her with rapture, and not without man I
m “m1 mPWho..,shc b come my wetness 91mg.

The Sea, Slipper.

 
"‘ She ex ected you would have married her, Mor-
ris? Was t not so?”

“Or she would never have ﬂown to _my arms," an-
swered the dyoung man, with cool indiﬂerence.

“It woul have been more manly, Graeme," said
Carleton, “ to have shown her her imprudence, and
sent her in safety and honor back to the roof she had
left in sorrow and dishonor."

“ This is excellent morality, Carleton, coming from
your mouth,“ answered the lieutenant, with a sneer
on his handsome lip; “Ellen’s love survived mine
and in honor, and when, without ascertaining this
fact, 3 e threw herself upon me for rotcction she
deserved to become what she is. ct, poor glrl, it
well-nigh broke her heart, when she found she was
not a wife. But her love was (ice or than her resent:
giant, and, so that she believed loved her, she was

a y...

‘ngon my soul I pity her, and wish she were with
you on board, Morris,’ said Carleton with tech .

“ Thank you, Carleton; on the whole I am con ent
tohave her on shore. She has money, and when
that is one she has -— beaut l"

“ An would you thus idly cast her upon the
world i" said Carleton, quickly.

“Hath a too fondly loving woman ne’er been cast
aside before, that you must look so very virtuous at
the thought, Carleton?"

He was silent with the conviction that that very
night he would have acted recisely a similar part
toward one who had a still earcr claim to his con-
tinued protection; for Carleton had wooed and won,
and wedded Eve. Yes Eve Innes was the bucca—
neer's bride; his lawful wife. But this is not the
place for the narration we shall yet be called upon
to giv‘e, touching the strange union of these two.
His conscience smote him at the other’s words and
turning away from him he looked over the side of
the vessel, makin no reply.

Graeme watch him a moment, and then finding
him disposed to remain silent, he walked away to-
ward the fore-part of the vessel as if to watch a soil
that was crossing the bows. “ Yes, I see Carleton
loves his little beauty still. It is plain the lan was
coucertod which placed her on board. Let to carry
her. Perhaps the charming creature may not be so
haughty at sea as on land. The gods be thanked. I
brought not Ellen, for time is we were separatedl
besides she would be sadly in the way with my pro-
posed ﬂirtation with Carletonglgretty one. If ever I
was fascinated by a woman, yet loved her not,
it is b this sweet, proud, cold vexing enchantress.
Than s, ood captain. The lady may relieve the
tedium o the cruise."

Thus significantly repeating Carleton’s words, this
boldt daring, and singularly reckless young man,
continued to walk the waist in a tho htfu mood,
till the dashin of waters ahead warn
proximity of url-Gate.

Hitherto, the “ Sea Slipper ” had been easily
gliding along the picturesque shores, moving past
silent _Villas and gardens and lawns sleeping in the
moonhght, meeting at intervals sloops orb antines
underfullcanvas stretching away toward t e city
or gox past others which were crowding sail
scawar , or rather southward.

After sail had once been made on her, impelled by
the breeze, she had glided from her moorings before
the incredulous and ewildered gaze of Blanche Hil-
lary. the schooner had kept on her course, solel un-
der the guidance of the helm. Not a. rope had en
pulled, nor the set of the well-ordered canvas altered
to this time. The small crew with which they had
boarded her. were quietly leaning over the bows, or
standing in the fore-rigging gazing at the shores as
they glided ast. The order and stillness on board,
were such t t no person would have suspected that
she had halfan hour before been taken ssession of
at her moormgsl But Carleton and orris Graeme
were no ordinary leaders in such an expedition as
they hadsodaringly planned and felicitously exe-
cuted. The men—many of whom had eight months
before manned the “ Sea Slipper ”—were picked and
known. They were but twenty in all: but more than
enough for working the schooner, but not the third

art of a full complement, had she been armed as

fore her seizure and conversion into a yacht. The
schooner still remained nearly the same as she had
been origin constructed. Her paint had been
altered, and s e was now perfectly black, with the
exception of a narrow scarlet line, or ribbon, run-
ning along her head, and relieving it. Her canvas
was new and in perfect order; her blocks, rigging,
and all her hamper were in thorough preservation.
Every thin drew well, and eve rope was in its
place. In t she had been in e in all points ﬁt

or sea by Colonel Powel, and all that was neces-

sary was a crew; which, however, groved a very dif-
ferent one from that which he ad robably an.
tici ated. Of the schooner and her ‘ g1 qualities
we lave alre ' given a description in t e former
portion of this} story. Her cabins were now richer
than before being furnished with every luxury that
could contribute to their elegance and comfort.
library of books—even a harp and guitar were not
wanting. The latter instrument drew the eye of
Eve Innes, as she descended into the cabin. and
taking it up she struck its chords like one familiar
with the stn‘ s, Her voice accompanied one or
two of the care ess notes she struck. It was touch-
ingly sweet and sad—in tender harmony with the
sorrow and love’s fear that lay at her heart. She
threw it aside a moment after, and leanin her head
upon her cgenruned hand, weﬁt long and si ently.

Still gli ed on the Sea 8 pperlpast the pleasant
shores, her path Over the moon t waves, Before
her suddenly roared the surges of Earl Gate. It
was not until their loud. near roar struck his ears.
that Carleton was roused to a sense of his responsi.
bility. He sprung into the main rigging, and looked
ahead, On either hand the dark roe s rowned and
menaced him, while a whlrpool foamed in the new
row strait between. He sprung to the helm and
took the destiny of the vessel in his own hand.
Morris Creme was forward, standing on the heel of
the bow-sprit, and ever and anon his clear voice ~ose
above the roar of the mad waves, giving directons
how to steer. Calm and resolute Carleton stood at
his post, and guided her on toward the peril
passage—.3, e at that time less familiar than
now to m ners, magically dreaded.
bg‘Porta little I" crl Morris from the heel'of the

w-sp

nt. -
‘,‘ Ar, pom” repeated  commander, who with
\ .

 
him of the,

 
the assistance of one of his men, could hardly govern
the schooner, which now an to jump about’in the
irregular sea like some trig toned steed, whom his
rider would force into some present and visible
dander, which he vainly plunges on every side to
avo .

G “ Steadyl" sounded the loud, seaman-llke voice of

mine.
“Steady it isl” answered Carleton, in an even
tone, which he could just hear.

The Sea Slipper was now in her greatest peril, and
tru did she then earn her appellation. Like a
feat er she was tossed upon the convolving up-lift-
ing, far-sinking waves. All was conimot on and
imminent danger to life and matter. For a moment
or two the vessel sta cred and reeled over, as if
fairly conquered by t e waves; and then, while
every man expected to see her the next instant

plunge madly into the wild, wrathful bosom of the '

maelstrom, she i hted herself, gathered new energy,
struggled u wa and onward, came to her course,
and again 0 eyed her helm.

“ Bravo l—that like to have been her mortal strug-
gle," cried Morris; “but the gallant little schooner
Will always come atoEl See how she shakes the
water from her sides 1i e a Newfoundland dog. Luff
a little l—we will soon be out of this infernal place."

“Luff it isl" answered Carleton in the same un-
moved tone,

“ Steady as you are l“

The schooner now altered her course a little. and
went ﬂying like the wind through a narrow strait
conﬁned by rocks, between which, it being ebb tide.
the whole body of water raced with astonishln
velocity. The topsail collaEsed with the rapidity 0
her motion and though t e wind was hi h, once
ﬂopped against the fore-topmost with 9. ion report.
The rocks being left astern, gradually her eggs:
lessened, and she moved along with the wind ,
over smoother water and a more 0 n sea.

“ I n‘ever passed Hurl—Gate with e water so wild,"
said Carleton, as Morris came aft. “I thought at
one moment we should have foundered.’_‘

" It was a narrow escape,“ said Morris, laughing.
“Now that we are through the passage, let us set
everything that will draw; and as the wind is north-
west, she will car her studd’n’-sails."

“Let her rem under what sail she has fora
while, Morris," replied Carleton, walking toWard the
com onwa . ‘She will make nine knots with
this reeze, w ich .will place as many leagues be-
tween us and pursuit b morning as we will want?"

“What are your fu ure plans. Carleton?" asked
Morris, as he saw him descending into the cabin.
“What is the schoonor‘s destination? I received
your note that you wanted to meet me in the Park
at eight o‘clock, and there only briefly heard from
you a plan to retake our vessel, which for eight
months has been out of our possession. You explain-
ed the lan, which I consented to, and obtained the
men. 9 plan has been successful, and once more,
thank the gods, we are on the broad deep with the
“ Sea Slipger” our home. Now, what is our pur-

se, goo captain?"

“ I have not wholly decided what course to pursue,
but will do so soon.’

“ Nay Carleton, have I not as doe .an interest in
this decision asyourself? I am w ng! to yield to
{our nominal superiority in comman ; but as we

ave both been equal] active in retakigﬁ the
schooner, it isbut natur we should be equ y in-
terested in her destination."

“ You are perhaps right Morris," answered Carle-
ton, with unexpected mlldness; for few men were
more impatient of dictation or opposition than he.
“I was your commander under our former organ-
ization, and when we were scattered the compact
was virtually annulled; I have no right to command
the schooner beyond any that on have, save that
but for me she would now be she cred before Colo-
nel Powel‘s villa. With you, Grmme,"he said some-
what stemﬂlly “ I want no quarrel."

“Nor w Iquarrel, Carleton. I cheerfully old to
you the command. but insist on bein consul dand
advised on any important occasion. his is certainly
one.

“True, and we will by and by see what we had
best resolve on. I will repose to you my own Ian,
and hear yours if you ave an to offer. As t is,
we have taken or une on boa , and followed her.
all blinded as she s."

“Then on have no deﬁnite aim in view?“ said
animation. .

“ No, truly I have not," answered Carleton with a
smilesthat on the instant restored good feeling be-

tween the young men.

“ Then I have one which you will embrace when
you hear it." _ .

“That I will (1 by and by," answered Carleton,
descending the sta rs to the cabin. " Hold the dock
till I come up, Morris andeillthen muster the
mggfgldglave the dwattﬁhes properly ﬁﬂedf’ared

1 ese wor s e oungca ppe

to the interview with Eve? p

“Thou hast a gentle treasure there caged, my
ood captain—for so then mnyst be till my own
line comel—hutI will ere long teach thy gn'etty
bird to ick from other hands save thine. ut let
this be or another da and hour. Now let me mar
turn my half-conceiv "

Thus a eak'ing’, he paced the quarter-deck, now
with a qu ck turn, now with a slower; now stop iLg
full; now moving on; and altogether seeming 'ke
a man in excited thought. How beautiful was the
night. or rather morning—for it was now three
o‘clock. The moon was n its western ﬁeld, white
and clear as silver, with which it tipped the bursting
waves, The shores on either ban a league asun-
der, were dark and wooded, with here and there a
brl ht spot indicating the position of some half-
em owered villa. hey were not alone upon the
moonlit wave. Astern.abeam, ahead, gleamed the
white sails of many afair craft: some heating to-
ward the city-«there crossing their traczl to some
mainland
be same course with the saws ‘

he beam, so a ,
schooner-rigged aft which had kept ahead of them
since Hurl Gate- but she was now rapidly
use under the additional im e of a to most
studd‘n’-saii, which Morris, obser her ape , had
git his walk to and fro on the quarter-deck to set.

a stood near the main 118815!
a s'ny, watching her. She was soncar that he couk‘.

-
‘ ,

1'7"

m while others stood toward the o
ricer '

, with a hand upon,

r

 
I

is“

,w. awn-r. . . _ . . _

The Sea Slipper.

 
distinguish the helmsman, whose tarpaulin glisten-
edin the moonli ht. Save him, he saw no one on
her decks. Swi tly and rapidly she glided over the
waters,that lea sportively about her sharp bows.
As Morris watc led her, and prided himself upon the
superior sailing of ,the schooner, which was fast
overhauling the brig, to his surprise, as if without
hands, up rose from her deck a large ball of can-
vass, which unfolding itself like a huge bird spread-
ing its wings, displayed the broad surface of a lower
studd’n‘sail, which soared to its boom, and then,

, pressed outward by the wind, at once took the
rounded shape and fair proportions of the other
drawing sails, and gave a new impetus to the
vesse .

“ That is no merchantman, or if so, she is com-
manded by a man from the navy,“ he said, turning
to the helmsman, in whose bushy red hair and pecu-
liarly wicked countenance, no one who had seen
Red Fred at the Brown J ug, would have failed to
recognize that personage.

“So I was thinking,Master Morris," answered Fred,
giving a bitch to his trowsers, changing his tobacco

rom one cheek into the other, ejectin a shower of
saliva into a spitbox at his feet, an then givin
the wheel an extra turn and a half to windward. “
never saw a stun-sail set in that man-o’-war style
afore on board a trading craft. But in my eye, Mr.
Graeme, she doesn‘t look so much like a coaster as
shemight be. Look at her sheer and cutwater, and
the sweep o’ the counter. See the set 0’ them masts
and how square her foreyard is, and how d—d
a-tauuto she Iooks. I’m blowed if I‘ should be sur-
prised to see four rts open in her sides, and as
many bulldo run heir muzzlcs out."

Here Red, red gave the wheel a half-turn back,
and brought the schooner a little more up, for
$8 1had fallen off a point during his remarks upon

e rig. .

“I believe you are half right, Fred,” said Morris,
after looking again narrowly at her. "One of you
hand me my glass from the beckets,” he said to a

roup of men who were in the waist, leaning over
I e schooner‘s side, gazing at the brigantine, which
was now about a uarter of a mile to leeward, two

oints forward of t e beam, and running very free.

er speed had evidently increased since the stud-
d’n’-sail was set, for she was then but a point 'for-
ward—or else the schooner had fallen off.

“ Have you fallen away any?" he‘demanded of
the helmsmau.

“ No, sir, not a hair line. She is aining."

“ So I thought ;—bcar a hand wit 1 my glass, boy.”

This order was addressed toalad about sixteen
years of age, who, when Grmme called for the spy-
glass, was standing alone, leaning against the cap-
stan. a little apart from the men who were gathered
in the waist, and who, on hearing it s rung for the
companionwa . He lingered, pro a l attracted
by some wor s overheard from the ea in; but the
second stern demand of the lieutenant was quickly
heeded. As the lad handed the glass, he quietly
drew back and resumed his former position against
the capstan. Morris, 0. usting it for night use, lev-
ech the instrument at t c brig. Her decks were at
once brou ht close and distinct to the sight. He
could see t e shadow of every ro e and s or traced
upon them by the m00nlight wit beauti ul distinct-
ncss. At her helm stood a neatly-clad ordinary sea-
man. No other man was aft, but the companion
doors were open, and a cloak and a book, ay. and a

lady‘s glove, lay u on the weather settee. He car-

I'lc his glass slow yforward, and saw that the run-
nmg-riggin was neatly coded, as on board naval
vessels, ins ead of being hung from pins. Forward,
under the black shadow of the foresail, were group-
edseveral seamen, engaged in watchin the schoon-
er and evidently interested in outsailing er. He again
ranged her decks with his glass, for her bulwarks
were unusually low, and he imself was in the main
rigging of his own vessel, to discover the ofﬁcer of
the watch. But such a men was nowhere visible.
one object arrested attention, and that was a
bright brass gun-a nine- under—on a carriage op-

, peeite the leeward ort. 6 immediately turned the
glass to examine t e side next to him, to see if he
could discover a fellow port to it, and detected one.
He then ascended the rigging twenty feet, and again
brought his glass to bear upon the deck, and by this
means be overlooked the bulwark, and saw enough
of a gun-carriage to assure him that she carried at
least two guns. He now directed his glass to her
spars and to -hain r, andafter a brief examination
was satisﬂe. that s e was an armed vessel. He was
about. to withdraw his eye from the lens when it was
arrested his. ﬁgure in the fore-Lop rigging of the
bvliit ; whic , on closer inspection, he saw was a man
i
down upon the schooner’s decks. Morris kept his
glass leveled until he saw the other remove his,
when he tried toget a look at his features. But the
other as if divining his pu , and not choosing to
gratify his curiosit ,_ turns away and directed his
glass to a sloop on is lee beam. .Graeme gave once
more a narrow scrutiny of the brig’s decks, and then

, closai’ﬁ his spy-glass descended to the quarter-deck.

_ at do on make her out, Mr. Morris?“ in-
uired Red irod, with that freedom which their
ormer companionship on shore somewhat uthor-
izcd. “She looks suspicious, and in my inion
means to make our better acquaintance before we

,part com ny." ' 4‘

“If we the schooner in her old trim, we might
court the intimacy ” said Morris. “She carriesa
pair of your bull-dogs, Fred. andawatch of eight
men.” '

“ That will give hera crew of sixteen—besides
cook, and steward, and captain, and mates,” said
Fred. “ We are even-handed and four more if that
was all. What do fyou take her to be, sir? Hadn’t I
better keep the sc ooner away a point, and run her
closer aboard, Mr. Morris? I see we have gained on
her since the spencer was set."

“ Yes, keep away a little—I would like to take a
higher view of her. She is not in the service, for
there isno vessel in it of her description; besides,

,ner armament is not naval. She is more likelya
fancy me best brig, owned by a dandy captain, or
a yacht f m the . rovinces."

‘ I‘ve seen such craft with fancy skip is,”
said Fred, throwing the wh smartly to winger-cl
halfan lies, and then cheekingit. " There
mono timers conic into Havana when I
weathers, and all the Spanish went toseeit. She

a spyvglass in his hand, which was directed-

 
was a full-rigged brigi and everything about her was
in a pie-pie style. er capstan was silver-plated,
and ad silver sockets for the bars. Her runnin

gear was all of white Manila-grass, and every bloc '
and dead-eye about her was polished like mahogony.
Her decks were white as snow, and only ﬁt for a fine
lady to walk over. I went into her cabin, and blaze
me if I ever saw such fine in a theater. The com.
panionwa was carved an ornamented with silver
—the ban -rail was silver—the stair-rods were silver
and everything was edged and set with silver. I
never saw an thing so rich. Carpets were laid so
thick you co d not hear a step,—and such carpets
for beauty was never seen b my eye. The furni‘
ture wasa little beyond auyt ing in that country.
It was all bird’s-eye maple, gilt and silvered. A pi-
anny was where the transom ought to ha‘ been, and
looking-glasses were so .vlenty that I could not turn
without seeing myself. he state-rooms were large,
and furnished off in great style, and the steerage was
as handsome a drawing-room as anybody’s parlor
in York. I looked round for the captain, expect-
ing, you see, of course to see a little dagper gentry,
half-sailor and half-greenhorn, ﬂnackee off in long-
togs and rufﬂe-shirt iisbands. But, shiver my miz-
zen if I wasn‘t shown as the captain of the craft as
we -built, thorough-bred a seaman from keel to
truck as ever I’d wish to lay eyes on. He wasa
handsome chap too, and had a keen eye for a rcity
less. or I‘m mistaken. He had been a mid y but
having had a fortune left him, he got leave for three
years, and built himself that craft, and so sailed
about on ablow-any-way cruise, just for pleasure.
This was two years ago, and I dare say he is cruisin

yet; and if t at chap hadn’t a schooner-rig aft,

should say it was the same craft, for I never see two
pzoﬂlcs so much alike." ‘ .

“I shouldn’t be surprised, Fred," said Morris,
again looking at her, “if she was some such craft as
you describe. It would be a feather in our schoon-
cr‘s cap it we could take her guns out of her. But
we can t do that without guns, unless we run her
aboard.”

“ And that could be easily done, Mr. Morris," said
Fred cooll , grasping at the same time the lower
spoke of t 0 wheel, as if in readiness to put the
schooner away toward her.

“I believe it could,” answered Morris with animao
tion. “ But keep her stead —we sail together now,
and there is time enough. will speak to Carloton.’

Thus speaking, Morr 3 advanced to the companion-
way to make known the suspicious character of the
vessel; while Fred, impatient to lay alongside and
carry out his reckless suggestion ke t gradually
edging the schooner higher and nig er

CHAPTER XIV. ,

I EVE.

WHEN Carleton descended into the cabin, Eve was
seated on a low ottoman, her face buried in her
hands, while tears were slowly tricklin along their
azure-tinted veins down to the beanti wrist. Her
long and beautiful auburn hair fell in disregarded
luxuriance about her neck and over her molded arm
and sylph- like ﬁgure—the soft and touching drapery
of woman’s grief. She heard his well-known ste ,
and brushing the tears from her dark eyes, s ,e
threw back her glorious hair, and rose to meet him.
What love—what deep affection was in her sweet
aspect, as she advanced toward himl Whatsoever
power there is in female fascination—whatsoever
charms there is in woman‘s idolatry was inscribed
by love’s angler on every feature. She sprung to-
ward hiin,—s e hun upon his manly bosom, as the
ivy entwines its trust ng tendrils around the oak.

‘Cnrleton. dearest Carleton, you have not forgot.
ten me, Oh, if you knew how heavily the hours
passed when you were away. I am envious of all
others, that keetpe on from me. I would be with
you ever—ever coking up thus into your eyes,
that now beam upon me so kindly;—ever by your

e stranger.

' side, knowing that wheneverl lift my gaze, it will

rest upon your beloved features.”

“ You are silly Eve, to love so wildly," he said,
slightly drawing her to his side and im rintin a
kiss upon her pure forehead; and he loo ed as e
spoke as if touched and gratiﬁed at her dee wo-
manly and almost childish devotion. “ You 3 ould
not thus lavisth cast all your love at a throw."

“ I cast it in o thy bosom, Carleton.” she said.
bending her graceful head, as if to hide from him a
shadow of sadness. ,

He was touched by the tone of her voice, and said
Elayfully,-—“ Yet thou hast lost, Eve, and I am the

ap winner.”

‘ ave I not gained thee, Carleton?—Having thee
I possess all things. It has ﬁlled my heart w h $oy
that I hear thee say thou art the happy winner. h,
Carleton, if you knew how a careless word from on
—-one word that gives me a hope that I still am ear
to you—makes in heart a heaven, you would love to
bless me thus. t alas! I sometimes of late, fear
that you have forgotten your love for me and—"
She dcould not go on. He felt a tear fall upon his

n

a .

“ Nay, Eve, thou hast done naught to offend me,"
he said tenderly, moved by the uching and elo-
quent distress which checked her words; and lead-
éngt her to the‘otwman be seated himself at her

so . ‘

“My dearest, noble husband! Na frown noti—
thou must suﬂer me to call thee y that loved
title, Carletonl—for to feel that 1 am thy Wife
is a. source of sweet, indescribable joy. I can-
not keep the deep tide from bursting forth, when
thou alone only art resent! Forgive me, Carleton!
'I‘c thee i must s of my bit piness, and tell thee
how full it is. must repeat thy ears, the hap~
Fy word wife. I must hear my voice utter the bliss-

ul sounds, my husband. Forbid me not, dear Carle-

tonl Nay, do not look so darkly—I will not offend
again l—But smile on me, and I will, though it break
my heart, keep locked Within it the secrets of our?"

‘Utter not the word Eve,” said Carleton, With
stern interruption. “Thou well knowest thou art
risking my ﬁercest displeasure.’ Be content—I suf-
fer thee to remain on board."

“0h, joy, joy! I dared not ask thee what thou
hadst determmed, butI knew in my heart when you
entered, that in love had triumphed. bless thee,
Carleton' For is clemency—may I not call it re-
tu Io“ r—you have my deepest gratitude.—

1 Oh, this is sweet peace! I will forget.

Near
I aim thou hast commanded it, that thou art—I u in

 
breathe the blessed word only in m heartr—and I
am thine—thy—let me speak it, Car eton—thy 'll‘ffd.
.. e n

“ Na —be not angry with me. To thine ear alone
has it een breathed. Art than unwilling in secret
to hear it? Oh, no, no. NotWithstanding your late
icy coldness, which it hot tears could have dissolved,
had long since melted into your first aﬂ’ectioni not
withstanding you would last night have left me, yet
I know, I feel, Carleton, that on do not wish thou
wert notm what so dear,1 on art to me. Thou
wouldst " me didst thou say so. Do I hate thee?
Did I love thee less when I knew my husband was an
outlaw! Did I ﬂy thee, and scorn thee, and, like the
World, turn against thee? No—thou knowest I did
not! True to thee and my woman's love, I loved
thee—had room been in my heart—more. Thou
wert dearer to me, when I knew I was the only one
that loud the». 0f th crimes confessed to me the
night I discovered w 10 my husband wasI did I re-
proach thee? Did I not forgive thee, and tell thee
that, guiltless thou wert to me, so that thou lovedst

e?

“Noble, devoted Eve! I feel that I am unworthy
of you,” he said, sad] . “I never appreciated you-—

on were not destinc in Heavcnto be my wife;—thy
ovc and devotion deserve a better return than I can
render thee.“

“Than thou canst render mel” she cried. with an
earnestness and passion that increased the brilliancy
of her dark eyes, tearful thou b they were; “what
canst thou ive inc, Carleton, t at is not dear to me?
A word—a ook—thc slightest glance of thine is to
me a treasure, which 11 :c a miser, I hoard up‘ in my

, heart’s close casket, ondly‘ to gloat over when thou

art absent.”

“ But, dear Eve,” he said with hesitation, as if un-
certain how to reply to her impassioned words;
“you would not love wisely to love unrequited.
Such love us thine should be returned with all a
man’s soul and being. Besides thee he should
have eye or thought for no other. T on must he
the altar of his passion—the shrine of his adoration.
Thou adorcst—Ize must adore. Eve, I never have
even lured i"

The lovely being at whose feet he sat, listened as
if she did not hear, or hearin , did not understand.
With her eyes fixed earnest y upon his troubled
face, and her lips a )art as if she would speak, she
5 he not. She loo edvat him a few moments in
2' out, sinful amazement. Then she released her
band owly, gently from his—for he had held it all
also , and now seemed with his downcast aze to be
adm ring the glittering jewels that is. owed it.
Gent] —slowly, she disengaged it and clasped in-
stead er own hands, and bondin toward him in an
attitude of touching eloquence s e knelt suppliant-
ly. Still she s oko not. .1101”: t her largie eyes ﬁxed
upon him, an be dared not look u . e cared to
meet their sad, reproving, soul-stric en gaze.

“George~—Cnrletonl” she said, and her voice
seemed to issue from her heart; “did Ihear aright?
,Oh, speak—speak kindlyto me; and tell meif on
said on never loved me? I will listen—I will no let
my cart burst—I will hold it in this with my
hands!" and she pressed her clas ed fingers beneat
her bosom close to her heart. “ ‘ e—I am calm.”

“ Eve, for God’s sake, do not look and talk to me
so,“ he cried with acute misery. “It was an idle
word—I meant it not. Turn away those eyes, I can-
not bear their gaze."

“If they grieve thee, Carleton, I will turn them
away: I would not grieve thee. But thou hast
grieved mo—oh, Carleton, thou hast grieved me 1”

Who could withstand the touchin suffering of
these few entle words of complaint The irate-
chief can 1: her hands pressed them to h slips,
and breat ed aword o tenderness into her ear.

“ Eve, for ive me—I meant not what I said—'twas
an idle wor

“ ’Tis spoken, Carleton,” she said, recovering her
hand and rising to her feet with steet di nity;
“and I feel that itis a true one. Thou has then
never loved ma—Alasl when to thee I gave my vir-
gin heart, and thou didst kneel and swear thou
ovedst me better than thou didst love life—loved“
thou me not then? Whenin that hour, I surrendered
to thee my maiden name and took t. inc—alas! ne'er
yet mine—and thou didst fold me to thy heart thy

ride and wife—lovedst thou me not then, Carleton?
When, because thou wished it so, I—ere yet I had
been one day a wife—did take a dreadful oath ad-
ministered by thee, that I should never divul e, save
with thy free consent, our union—lovedst t on me
not mm, Carleton i”

It was like a spirit of Judgment from the other
world interrogating him. He was overpowered with
the conflict of his feelings, and turnin from her,
walked across the cabin, where he stoo a moment
with his face buried in his hands. She approached
him with a countenance emanating love and sym-

pat .

“gorge, forgive me! I meant not to wound
where I would knee] to heal. I know thou lovedst
,me—I know thou best ever loved me. Then know.
‘est not thy own heart. If thou wilt look Within thou
wilt see the image of thy Eve imprinted there in the
lines of life.”

“No, no, Eve,” he said, with bitterness, “I will

not deceive you—I never have truly loved thee. If 1
could have loved thee, thy deelp, pure, idolatrous af-
fection would have created ove in my bosom. ]
was roud of thee—of th matchless lovelinest

thy ee love'for mo; bu I never returned—bevel

requite it. :Instead of being a fountain, reﬂectin
the summer sunshine ofthy warm and sunny love
gees like a wintry pool presenting an icy shield to its
ams.
“ Never—never loved me,” 5 oke she, slow] and
whis eringly, as if her thong ts, introve , were
hold ng converse with her heart.

“ No, truly, Eve. It is time thou wert undeceived,‘

I have ion wished for this occasion, but—’

“ Lona /’ re eated the lovely sufferer; ‘,‘ hast thou
not loved me or long, Carleton t“ ,

He hesitated, embarrassed how to reply to such
painful uestions. If she had shown anger, or scorn,
or hate, e felt he could have home it. But to be so
like an a el in meekness gentleness. to receive
with such clung sorrow his confession, this was
more than even humid and stems int could on-
dure. Againhe turned from her,“ seemedu if
leavith eoabin; but a single word from her lips
mes ted. him. ‘ .

. .. _ Loam.

 in “Mn ......:.,‘4 4.. ,.

 
our.»

 
’ i

. thine eyes, Carleton, and I all

The Sea. Slipper. ‘ I

 
l

 
“George.” - r
“ Eve.‘

“ Come to me :—nay, nearer—sit by me.“

He obeyed her.

“ I. will say what I have to say calmly. Thou hast
deceived me, Carleton, but I complain not. I am
not about to reproach you. If I have grieved you,
forgive me. It was a sudden shock to me to be told
from your beloved lips—for thou art still my beloved,
George—that I was not loved by thee. But it is over
now. I feel I can bear it. Now nothing remains but
for me Io lore ﬂies. Nay, do not look displeased; it is
the sweet lesson I have taught in heart for cars,

that it was because thou hadst learned by loving

! sag ‘l-is false. and I will kneel to theel"

and it will not forget it: nor we (1 I it slim d for- ‘

get. Thou art my heart's world—its serene Heaven
——in which, like a (love, it ﬂies and is blest; its up-
rising star, guiding it to happiness and peace; its
sun, from which it derives its warmth and life. Its
pulse can only throb with thine, and when thy heart
ceases to boat, mine will ﬁnd rest."

"‘ Strange and unaccountable creature," said

Carleton with emotion and yet speaking as if an— ;

noyed. 1‘l have told thee, dear Eve, that I have .
never loved thee. I must now tell thee I do not now ,
i of her s irit to its storm, and let it drive her whiiher

love thee. I pity, I feel for you, with all my heart.
I know how deep, how strong your attachment is to
me; Iknew it would survwe even this painful and
most trying confessmn. But, my dear Eve, is it not
101;: to love where thou art not beloved? Is it
no u

"Nay Carleton, Ihave heard thy words: the ar- ;

row hath )ierced and eleven my spirit’s life; but it
hath not s lvered the mirror in my breast, wherein
thy image is reﬂected. Thou art dear to me as
before. may not cease to love thee—but Imay

wee that thou lovest not me. But wherefore, dear ‘

Car eton " she said, with warm and glowing feelings,
“where ore hast thou not loved? Have been all
unworthy thy manly affection—of that noble love
which this hour I would die to know was mine own?’

“ No, Evel—you are worth
yours few are worthy, much ess

“ Yes—you wrou

self."

any man’s love;—of ,
‘, whom
yourself, Car etonl—you have ’

erred, you are now in the path of error; but you are ;

generous, and noble, and good. Thy spirit is dark
and thy nature is stern; but I knew that thou hast
among,r men few thy peer. Unworthy?
she added, her voice suddenly changing to a sub-
dued tone, “thou lovest me not. Alas, mel—yet
thou must love some one—thou wilt love some one.
Hippy she whom thou lovesti blest the maiden,
into whose rich bosom thou pourest all the wealth
of thy great heart‘s affections! Happy the lovely
anal loved who can read in thy deegbpassionate gaze
that thou invest and she is the oved. I have,

alas! thought (form love blinded my penetrationi ixthysrrlff”

and I W118 willingly ecoived,) that I read love an
devo ion in our admiri
trembled, an my heart-st ngs catching e vibra-
tion. have thrilled with oy, as you poured into them
worls of love. But as! the glance was that of
pride and admiring passion—the words the voice of
ﬂattery. George, thou hast then mocked me with
the semblance of love i“ ,

"'l‘hou didst deceive th self, Eve—not I thee.
admired thee; I was pron of thee; and thou sawes
these passions in my ey. s and construed it love.
praised thyqbeauty, and thou didst think I worship-
ed thee. 0 Eve, thou wert the idol only of my
vanity—the shrine of my self-love."

“Carleton ” she said, with stran e seriousness in
the tones of her voice 'why then id you wed me?”

“ Because I then believed that I love thee."

“Then!” she re ated, with an emphasis that
made him start. “ at has shown thee since then.
that thou wert in error, Georgeij’ and her dark. ob-
serving glance was ﬁxed upon his changing counte-
nance With singular earnestness. .

He was silent in. few moments' he was perplexed,
and evidently was Withholding th
ipdlﬂ'erent reply. It was pl 11 bye. change in the
expression 0 or intense gaze t at this suspicion
rose to her mind. '

“It was the devotion and disinterestedness of

etruth to invent an .

No! and," ‘-

eyes; and myhear has i vously.

 
your own [one for me. Eve,” he replied, with a sudden ,

readiness, that would have showed to a close ob-

server that he had lit upon a happy reply, with =

which he meant to cover from her the true one.
“I witnessed your attachment, and from you learn-
ing how to love, knew then I had never loved," His
eyes avoided hers as he replied, and she listened
without moving. For a. few seconds after he had
ceased speaking, both were silent; he iiiwardl con-
gratulated himself upon his successful answer 0 her
abrupt in uir —-she with her young and faithful
heart torn y be ﬁrst pang of jealousy. She broke
the silence. ‘

“ George Carleton, thou hast not spoken the truth i ‘
she said severely yet not unkindly;—there was more
sorrow i an a er in her even and solemn tones.

The oung iratevchief started. and his haughty
s irit nstinct ve rose at the imputation. But as
h s gaze fell on t e lovely woman he wronged,
he suppressed his emotion and replied: '

“Eve, from thee I feigive that word. I have
wronged thee. most, truly have I, and from thee can
forgive much!“

“And from thee, George, I can forgive muchi I
did think a while since that there was nothin I
could not forgive in thee,—but my heart hath wit
the minute past taught me notto trust my deep love
tgo fag. There is one thing I may not forgive in
t ee, eorge.‘

Carleton plainly. desired to avoid the allusion that
he evidentltyaantim ated, and said quickly:

“Would God. ve, thou wouldst heed the teach-
ing of thy heart, and. not trust thy deep love too far.
It will no or be requited, and if it be trampled and
crushed under foot, thou must thank thyself. I:
thou wilt love where thou art-— '

“0h,say not bated with thy; lips, as I read it in

. _ strive to love thee
less," she cried, almost shrieking, as she pressed her
hand upon his mouth. “I have wr ed thee by
my suspicion of thy truth. I knew t, on wouldst
never be false to rue—though. thou IOvest me not so
much and warmly as thou hmkest thou ought todo.
Iwill not require that thou shouldst measure thy

love lgénine; nor, because thou ﬂndest it fall short; ,

thou ulds’t not think and soteaoh thy heart, the

, thou lovest me not; I but think that ’tis woman's

nature to love most. Iknow thou art deceiving thy-
self. and dust  love me. For, the mpioioa
M W now! , ﬁt on my brain. like he»; _ g

\‘ J
u \.

y
I
l
l

1
i

: and all to ﬂy with the one .who held her own heart

 
anolhlr that thou knewest thou lovedst not me—I
will not, I dare not, 1 may not cherish ,in Eng
thoughts. Say tis false, dear Carleton-oh, G i

arletcn saw now before him, in Eve, woman in her
true character. Gentle loving, adoring, self-sacrific-
ing—let but a spark of suspicion, not that her love
hath been slighted, for this she will forgive, and still
love. on, but that her love hath been slighted for
another‘s shrine, light on her heart, and a conilagra-
tion of all the wild passions of her being ensue. Carle-
ton liad never seen Eve but as the entle, beautiful
and loving; her dark eyes beaminLr a cction; her soft,
heart-doe) tones breathing tenderness and devo-
tion. Bu now how changed —how sudden the trans-
ition in the time from giving utterance to one sen-
tence to speaking another~and yet she only sus-
pected, and the moment before she had rejected the
suspicion; but now. as she gazed u on his telltale
cheek and averted eye, and saw 6 s oke not, it
rushed back u on her soul With new s ngth and
distinctuess o outline, and she at once yielded up
her whole nature to its inﬂuence loosed the wings

it woul . Such is woman when the do the of her
heart are moved by jealousy. Light and arkness are
not more op site than her two natures. To her
jealousy won (1 create a hell—dove a heaven!

Carleton stood in silent awe and gazed upon her.
Her slight and singularly elegant person was diluted,
and seemed taller by many inches. Her bosom
violently heaved till her kerchief seemed as if agi-
tated by the wind. Her attitude was commanding
and spirited. Her dark, niorious eyes ﬂashed wit
fire, and her pale cheek and bloodless liplspoke elo-
ﬁuently and lpainfully of the deep fee 'ng within.

9 stood as ' etritied before her, and observed her
With an astonis iment he did not strive to suppress.
Could that lovely 'et angry creature who stood
ﬂashinﬁu on him, the welding and quiet girl

0 ad 0 long held dishonored, by withhold-
ing fmm her the title of wife? He felt both fear and
respect-as he contemplated her; and the awkward
couViction forced itse f noon his mind that to triﬂe
With such a woman’s love would not be lightly
dun erous. She seemed tobe reading his thoughts.

“ peak l” she said, commandingly, as he still con-
tinued silent.

“ Eve, I know not what wild spirit has taken pos-
session of thee. Thou artnot hyself. But a mo-
ment since thou wert defendi me with extraordi-
nary elo uence, and now I be old thee without a
feather o acause standing in hostile attitude and
demanding of me I know not what. Art thou beside

“No, Carleton no,“ she said hurriedly and ner-
“Yeti do not know but that I am. There
is a strange sensation at my heart ;" and she pressed
her hands against it.—“ It can‘t he so. I have judged
you wrongfully. No. dear Carleton—I knew you
would not 10— ove anoth—I could not live if I knew
it' yet I—I think I should—thou—love you still—but
-—but—dear Carleton—aha you—you should both—"

Here she tattered and would have fallen to the
ﬂoor but for his arm. He caught her and entiy
laid her on the ottoman. Her h s still move ,and
he bent his ear over her to catch he words from her
tremalous 1i She s oke in a very low but singu-
larly distinc and ﬁrm one—it was the completion of

the sentence: ' '

“ —————boﬂl die " and she was insensible.

“ God of Heaven what a. woman," he exclaimed,
starting back with horror.

Pale, and lifeless, and lovely; how still and stra e
was her deathlike repose; how calm and beauti n]
she lay there, like innocence slumberi :—-yet her
nether lip were not the pure expression 0 innocence.
It was com ressed against its fellow, and'bore the
footprint 0 the stern 5 wit that ﬂed from it as she
breathed forth her last etermined words.

Carleton made no effort to reanimate her-Lbs
seemed not to think of it. Lost in his own thoughts,
he gazed upon his wife a few moments asshe lay
beautiful and still before him as if death and not
life now claimed her; and as he dwelt on this new
development of her being, he was amazed, and
feared to contemplate the conse uences t his future
purposes. Helm-ed Blanche Hilary. i} been
to him a prettv toy, whom he had tired o , and with
whose devoted love he weal-led, though his ride was
gratiﬁed by it; Although circumstances ad now

ortuitously brou ht about his confession that he
had never laved ve, he withheld. for reasons all
will discern, when it is remembered that Eve, though
unacknowledged, was his lawful wife, the confession
of his attachment to Blanche. Eve‘s womanly pene-
tration, aided by her deep love which is ever the
parent of jealousy, had detected is embarrassment,
and instantly suspicion of the truth ﬂashed upon her
mind. The con equeuces we have just seen. The
reaction of fee 11 upon her full heart crushed it.
A beautiful sac ce—_—she seemed an offering in on
the altar of love-11 victimpf Carleton”: pride. nd
was she a victim to his pride; Loved he never that
sweet, devoted creature? Had he never thought he
loved her? Yes, until he met Blanche Hillary. He
then knew that he had been deceived—behaving he
had loved; and that alone he felt was love which the
charms and presence of Blanche ins ired in his
bosom It was a. new, strange bliss ul emotion,
such as he had never experienc in Eve’s presence.
It was (lee ha: mess; With such happiness Eve
had never lied 3 soul.

And, as he gazed upon her with introverted
thoughts, the st came before his mind in vivid
colo and his cart throbbed with deepest emotion
when e gazed upon the picture memory so faith-
fully retouched.

Back through the vista of years he saw himself a
youth, dwelling With his stern (parent, who lived
wholly away from the world; an . Eve, then a mere
child he had saved from dX‘OWDm one day, when
her canine attendant, and constan attendant, had
gracetutlhel goat she was in. gathering water-lilies

m e a e.

Children though they were. from that day they
loved each other, and when they grew to man‘s and
women‘s estate, the maiden gave up father, home,

and whom no rumors of his wild and evil life so

‘Tﬁ‘hw hill she clung Gobi min
. at even

her New York where Oh. how found out

,.r '

 
' |
i

th at he was a professional gambler —a.y, far worse,
the leader of a secret band of w cked spirits like
himself.

Yet she remained ﬁrm, no matter how deeply he
sinned, and her inﬂuence held him greatly in check.

But at last he met Blanche i-Iil ary, and from
knowing that she would never love him, he came
infatuated with her, and poor Eve from that time
felt his ne loci: of her.

At last s e discovered the cause, from his inter
View with her in the cabin, and wrou ht up to
frenzy her overburdened heart, found re of in un-
consciousness. ,

At length alarmed, for he did not wish her dead
be bent over her, and his better feelings awakene

[2-9 > ‘

by the memories of the past, when they were cbii- \

dreu together, he used eve effort to revive her
from her swoon, speaking to or at the same time
in the same loving voice as of ore.

The effect was surrrisigg, or her eyes opened,
and meeting his bend n on her with seeming love
and tenderness, she 8g 11 felt her heart throb with
happiness.

‘i ‘ gi-giyle me, for I have deeply wronged you," she
so ( am y.

“'I‘hink not of it clear Eve, for I cannot be hurt
at thought of thy evotion."

“Then thou dost love me?"

“ Yes, Eve.“

“Then am I hop y; but go, for Morris Graeme
calls thee to the doc ."

He kissed her, and tamed away, deeply impressed
with the wrong he had done her and went c"uﬁon
ﬂeck, fora second time had Morris Graeme ed

1m.

 
CHAPTER XV.
ms mamas BAIL.

Upon reaching the deck. Carleton found the Sea
Slipper gliding a ong at the rate of seven and a half
kno ‘. and he glanced“ aloft at the clouds of snowy
canvas, and then his eye fell upon the brigantine
not two hundred fathoms from the schooner

uare abeam. .

“Is that the brig that was abreast when I went
below, Morris?” hsI asked.

“ Yes, and for this I called you; I have examined
her closely with my loss and find enough on deck,
as well an in her hul and spars, to make me [Mir
clone of her. When she found, about an hour ago,
that we were creeping u to her. and were likely to
overhaul and pass her, s s set her studd‘n'mailond
would have run away from us, but for our increase
of canvas. You see have got the schooner under
all she can handle with the stern breeze, and vet the
brig is abeam, and has held her position the last
twenty minutes.”

“The glass, if you please; there is but one vessel
that can sail wit the Sea Slipper," said Carleton
putting the spy- lass to his eye. After looking at
iera moment e added in a low, impressive on
of voice. peculiar to him when much moved, “and
that is the craft. She ran away from me whenl
was in my Spanish schooner iu the West Indies,
though that craft, sailed nearly as well as the Boo
Slipgg‘. This brigantine is I. pleasure yacht. hail-
ing in Baltimore. I can‘t be mistaken in her-1
she was once a square-3g ed, and perhaps has been
dismaated and altered t o a. schooner rig."

“I would be sworn to her, captain ” said Bed
Fred; who, having lust struck four bells, and been
relieved at the whee , was passing forward; “ wasn‘t

in the Havana two years ago lastvmouth, and
made a sort of city show for the anish?"

“She is the same, Fred," said leton, with the
glass still at his eye, evidently. taking every close
scrutiw of the stran er. “I was on board of her
then orris, and m 0 up my mind to have her.
I had in vessel lying there in a. creek, on the south
side of e island, and ascertaining the day on which
“tinsel—i; call h “mi 14. t" aid mica.

tn' ey er 9 uce i,
who still lingered in the waist.

“‘The Lance,‘ you mean, Fred; it is the‘same
craft, without question. Learnin when she was
to put to sea, I was off Havana, waiting for and giv-
ing her a good omn‘g; I gave chase, expec. ting to
come up with her n my own way, and. my own
time, but I reckoned without my host. Soon as her
skipper found what I was after, he gust walked
away from me, as if I had been a fru tdroger. I
then at the Sea Slip er, for that was the name of
my est lndian cz- t too, to her best‘ paces, and
ﬁained what I had lost. We had been running

itherto with the wind aft—it was a stern-chase;
but he finding my studd‘n’-salls did so much better
service than his own. and doubtless-well aware of
his best sailinguﬁoints suddenly took in his star-
board studd‘n’- s and hauled on the wind, set. his
stay-sails fore and aft. and his three jibs (which on
see he has now , and with the wind four to
free, she went 0 on the wind with as ll ht spalr
of in els as the devil would put upona let. B!

sun-down she was hull-down, and I gave up the’,

chase."

“The Sea Slipper was not a fast sailor, Carleton,
or the chase would not have run away from on in
that style,” said erme. “See. we hold wi her
now—and by heaven, are shpPinﬁla half point
ahead. She couldn't compare w th is schooner."
“She was in bad trim at the time, and not well
the wind nearly dead aft. the brig had not dis
covered this, but kept on before the Wind, I should
have overhauled her. But rim Sea Bil per, Graeme,
shall atone for the fault of her name e. She, like
the brig, sails best on a wind. That fellow must

know‘ me; but, infernal devils, we are without a '

n. , , .
gm He carries two," said Morris signiﬁcant] ' .“ but
if he would only wait a week for us, we co ii 1!
him a little sport. ‘
," What do you mean! ' asked Carleton, earnestly.
“There is an old fort near the mouth of the Ken
nebec river in Maine, lnot thirty '

Ply

it. t was then occu led by a ew soldiers, the war

havin just ended. was at the place again three

montgs since. having secretly revisited y native
atherwulll. It wast en nits

village, been 111
' deserted. makers; were in tho-em

limos!
blenpair forlor
Harmon

3116 in tolero
.‘uﬁlﬁ’eﬂ We. probability of be

_ houn run from»
beta} which is nearly dismantled; it is not far from ‘
ace of nativity, and in be hood I often visited .

‘manned; beside, her best int of sailing was with ,‘

a a". .. -.'.'.

.i

 
2O

‘ The sea Slipper;

 
day in want of them. The fort stands elevated, but
a vessel can anchor in deep water under it, and the
guns can be removed without difﬁculty;-—-they will
answer our purpose until we can capture more suit-
able ones.”

“This is well conceived, Morris, for I confess’I had
come to no deﬁnite purpose. But the ammunition?“

Two is es further u the river is the town of Bath,
near whic , in a retire spot stands a powder-house.
From this we can remove w t we uire.“

“Well planned Morris,” exclaimed arleton with
animation; “it s all at once be put into execution:
and as you have been so clever as to conceive it, you
shall carry it into execution. The active command
of the so ooner I resign into Wur hands till this
enterprise is carried thro h. e are slippingl past
the brig as you said, Morris. At the wheel, t ere—
let her fall off a pointasteady. With the wind 8.
point more on our quarter, we will improve our ad-
vantage." .

“The—brig has fallen 03 as we have," said Morris;
“ she is evl ently govering her motions by our own."

“Iwill know something more of this craft, and
see what her business is up the Sound. It is “ The
Lance," for this insignia is now glitterln in the
beams of the moon, at her foremast head," c said,
directing her lance aloft, where the moonlight sud.
denly reveal a ion glittering lance of silvery ap-
pearance afﬁxed to t e royal-mast head.

“ Her captain, then, if Red Fred be right, is the
owner, and is a naval ofﬁcer, on leave," said Morris.

“ I will make his acquaintance; I saw him once in
a cafe in Havana—a handsome, gallant-looking,
sailor-like person, and I have reason to know him to
be a ood Seaman. I will breakfast with him.”

“ e ma com 1 you to dine then,” said Morris,
laughing, utwi h a meanin in his words that his
commander understood. " e have no guns."

“He cannot suspect us: our having no us will
be in my favor, as I intend to pass curse ves upon
him for a acht. We are no more nor less now,
Morris, God ows, to our sorrow," he said, smiling.

“We shallbe something more ere three days, if
we run at once for the Kennebec " said Morris.

“ That we shall do. Morris, call the men aft to the
sheets and braces; I am going to put away two
points more, and see if I can‘t shoot ahead and go
scram his forefoot."

The oung lieutenant of the Sea Slip r at once
gave the necessary orders, and the sc ooner was
steered in a couise which radually drew her nigher
the b , which she woul soon have fallen astern
of, an crossed her wake, if her own speed proved
not to be increased by this alteration. But the ad-
vantage of this slight change in her course was soon
apparent; while 5 e approached the lir’ antine she
worked perceptibly ahead of her and so led clearly
a. knot faster on a free bow-line t n with both the
sheets aft. Carleton stood leaning over the buiwarks
lookin at the bri , with a roud expression of
triump in his dai- e es; w ile Morris watched
closely the sails and he msinan, that no advantage
might be lost.

‘ How steadily we work ahead on her course,”
said Morris glancing over the side of the b which
they were fast approaching. “She is reso ved not
to alter her steerage half a point." _

“ Then we shall make uaintance With her pen-
cil-like, ﬁ -'ib-boom en ,” said Carleton. ‘ My
trumpet ere, y!” .

The train t was promgtly placed in his hand by
the lad, an Carleton too an attitude for hailing
the st or who was now on his starboard how
not ﬁfty athoms distance. The two vessels were
rapidly nearing each other at the bows, and it was
a nice question which should shoot ahead of the
other; as the sailed, the promised to come in
Spllision, the' owsprit of t e Sea Slip-gr pointing

‘rectly at the re-head of the b .

It was evident t the maneuver was watched
with no little interest from the brig.
were on the quarter-deck, one With a g

- hand, the other with a silver trum t, that gleamed
at every motion of his hand in the right moonshine.

The dark,tall pyramid of sails on the rlg's foremast
already rose between Carleton and the moon, cast-
ing their shadow on his uarter-deck- and the rip-
ple and rgli of the we. r, agitated by the bug‘s
motion t ug it min led wit the sound of t e
spra dash about the sc ooner’s bows."

“ ears in no condition to lose_ a 3 ar, Carleton
or suffer dam e in the hull," said orrls: “ shall
I bring herto e winda couple of points? we are
sure to be foul of her, or have her bowsprlt run be-
tween our masts."

Carleton made no reply, save a dark proud smile,
and seemed intently to watch the deck of the other;
Morris turned on h heel muttering:

“This is foolhardyx we at damaged I can
never carry out In plan of golfing the guns from
the old Kennebec ort."

His further thoughts were interrupted b aloud
stem hail from the brig, while his weather- w port
new 0 n, and a gun was run out.

“Sc ooner, ahoyl"

“Ay, ayl" answered Carleton, in a clear, manly
tone not making use of his trumpet.

“ t the devil do you mean comin athwart in
vessel in this buccaneer style? Luﬁ, or yheaven'l’ 1
ﬁre into on!” _

“S asyou arel” cried Carleton cooll turn-
ing to the helmsman' then answering the ot er, he
so (1 with revoking indifference:

“ When? ve m helmsman in orders [never
interfere’wit hlm— e is steering his proper course.
I should be sorry to runinto you and equally regret
to have ou ﬁre into me; utI never change the
course 0 my vessel at the dictation of any man—
the sea is free for allwho rove it."

There was just a probability that the schooner
would forge ahead clear; but the chances were
more probable foracollision. If she fell off from
her course the b th of a bowline, contact was
inevitable, Still they were up touching each other
with a merry rippling and of the water, and
haste

nlng t e crisis. .
“3‘ He will put up his helm, you may rest assured,”
(1 Carl ton.

“ Thor: is too much ﬁrmness in his tones for that,"
said Morris. “ But we shall soon see."
bo’lt‘llliehzedssels now were at $231M apart, and

a near sev .
“ Luﬂ, Fain" ugliln thundered the captain of the
ca.
\

 
“ Steady!" cried Carleton to the man at the helm;
“ I have told you that I never change my vessel‘s
course,“ he answered to the ﬁery hail of the other.

He saw that collision was inevitable unless one of
them deviated; but, reckless as he was brave, he
loved the excitement and the danger; and there was
besides a pride—his perseverance for that very
vessel had once humbled his pride. In his heart
he’resolved to risk the safety of his vessel rather
than yield an inch to that craft. The ca tain of the
other could have had no such motives, ut he kept
his vessel undeviatingly on her course due east.
Silently they approached the point of collision, when
all at once a bright ﬂame issued from ,the bow art
of theb ; ba ,thundered the gun, and the all
buried its f, wit ashock that made the schooner
lurch and reel, deep into the mainmast, just
above the rack of capstan cars. The next instant,
amid the roilin smoke, there was heard a loud
crashing and s 'verin of splinters, mingled with
the curses of men, an the schooner shot ahead out
of the confusion, dragging with her the ﬂying-jib
and jibboom of the b , carrying away her topmast
studd‘n’-sail dangling at the end of her topsail yard,
and losing her own stern-boat and half the mainsail,
through which the brig, in heaving ahead as the
schooner crossed her how, ran the s lintered head
of her bowsprit. All this mischie was done in
a moment, and the two vessels separated and passed
on without, at ﬁrst, scarcely any check to their

wa .
“YI have a mind to give an my other gun,"

shouted the ca tain of the rig, as the schooner
assed clear 0 the confusion; “but I see

ave not escaped any better than we have. ho
are out”

“ he Sea Slipper,” answered Carleton, in a tone
that sounded i e proud deﬁance, while he smiled
at anticipating the other’s astonishment. The men—
tion of t is name had the effect he looked for. They
heard an exclamation of‘surprise, and then came
the voice of the commander:

“ I know your colors now, my lad. I thought Wu
had been sunk ;——or is there a pair of Sllpﬁers? e
have met before. I will not let you go, 1: en, since
such is your quality, without another card."

The starboard port in the waist was thrown open,
and the next moment the 1fun was discha ed,
The brig, however, steers awkwardly in
crippled state, and the shot fell wide, dashing
a eliriage feather of spray in the moonlight far to lee-
W

“ I owe on two," said Carleton, quietly; and
leaping on eck, turned his attention to the state of
the schooner. She already began to steer wildly,
for she was much clogged forward by the brig’s
studd’n’-sail and spars that hung from her Dowsprlt,
and felt the want of her mainsail. The wreck was
cut adrift, the sail bei saved, and the injur ere
dayhght nearly repaire . The stern boat, whic had
been torn from one of the davits and left hanging
by the other, was much stove; but being hoisted to
its place, was left for another time, the schooner
ﬁafingltwo light whale-boats slung at either quarter

11 war .

Day had begun to dawn when the schooner was gpt

ain under her former accurate steerage way. y
t e time the pearly hues of the East deepened into the
blushing glory of the morning—the two vessels were
three leagues asunder; the brlgantine, her dam es
unrepalred, be seen far to windward near 6
Connecticut shore, standing back toward ew York;
while the schooner was sailing easi along on a
bow-line, a mile from the land, oﬂ 0y er Bay.

CHAPTER XVI.
ran saio‘s RETURN.

“ I invn heard from my yacht, and she has been at
her old buccaneering tricks again," exclaimed Colo-
nel Powel, entering his drawing-room, the second
morning after the ht of his schooner from the
cove, and ' ayward, who was reading a
paragraph in a newspaper to his wife and Blanche.

“ And so have we, father,” said Kate Ha ard,
who with her husband and friend were loo ng as
much excited as Colonel Powel himself.

“There was a rumor in town just before I left that
Captain Ellis, who left port the day the acht
was spirited away, had been run aboard by a sc oon-
er answering the description of mine, and that he
beat her of! with his guns.“

“This is just wha we were reading when you
came, sir," answered Ka .

“ It must be true then," said Ha ward. ‘

“I see no reason to doubt it," d Colonel Powel;
“ but let me hear the printed account, Blanche."

“I will read it, father; Blanche looks frl htened
about Harry Ellis. and her voice would trem is like
a rose-leaf. ‘

“ How can you, Kate!" said Blanche with a re-
proving glance and blush.

“Here it is clear father: ‘ We mentioned
day the sudden disappearance of Colonel owel’s
yacht “ The Sparkling Wave,“ once better known
as “ 6 Sea Slipper,” from her anchorage op-

'te his villa, an hat a revenue cutter had sailed

n pursuit of her. We have just received intelli-
gence that leads us to believe that she has fallen into
ehands of her former daring commander. It is

 
ester-

now known that this rson has been privater lying
in this city, and won have been secured by he po-
lice the very night the yacht was taken 03. And

the fact that he was not found by the police at the
place to which their informant ded them gave
cause for the suspicion. The in once brought
by a Captain Martin of the Hartfo sloop “Be ty
Ann " is, that about three o’clock yesterday mom-
lng ﬁring was heard b him and his crew on the
Sound, and at sunrise t ey fell in with a brigantine
which hailed her and asked for a spar to make a ﬂy-
ing jib-boom of. he stated the 1)ng reported that she
had been run into by a buccanee ng schooner with a
score of men on board, and that he had ﬁred him
her and evidently defeated an attem t to board, as
the schooner stood on after car ng awa , by
the collision. some of the b ' ’s hamper, inc uding
hei- ﬁbbopms. Not being ab 6 to Supply him. Car?-
tain artin left him, and soon after he saw the b g
attempting. with her jib only. to heat back to port.
If this be correct, the schooner is, without question,
the Sea Slipper revived. We sincerely trust
she may be fallen in with by the cutter, and
treated as her merits deserve. We understand
Colonel 13%:ch had full insurance. We shall probably

l

,_ l
_ \

 
\

soonvhave all the 'culars from Captain Ellis. who
has doubtless pu back to re ir damages, in which
case we shah not fail to lay t em at once before our
readers.‘ "

“ There can be no kind of doubt now into whose
hands she has got again," said Colonel Powel. “ Well,
ladies, we have lost our excursion to Na 011;. You
know something of these adventures, enry, and
you, Blanche!”

The young lad started and blushed, and quickly
answered. with he consciousness of her late intern
course with Carleton, “ I Colonel Powel?"

“ Why, Blanche," said Kate, “you look ilty."

“ Yes, we were fellow-passengers on t e Ariel,"
answered Hayward, relieving her embarrassment by
spea , “ and one leasant afternoon were
boarded by the Sea ip r. Her captain was
a tall, dark, and exceedln y handsome man, not
more than twenty-six. T ey were reckless men,
captain and crew, and I have reason to know one
of his lieutenants."

“That fearful Morris Grinme," said his wife.

“Well, it is dangerous to have them abroad upon
the sea in so fast a vessel; but they have no guns,
thank Heaven,” said Colonel Powel.

“ These, men like them will not be ion in obtain-
ing.) I have no doubt the motive of t eir attempt
{.38 oard Captain Ellis was to possess themselves of

uns.’

“ d he gave them to the fellows, it seems, in a
true seaman’s style. I must see Ellis when he re-
turns, and hear from his lips the facts. Somebody
else would like to see and welcome him too or I am
mistaken," and he glanced signiﬁcantly at Blanche,
who also catching a mischievous look in Kate’s face,
got up and went to the window to conceal her pretty
confusion.

And was Captain Harry Ellis her lover? In a few
words,Blanche and Harry Ellis ﬁrst met when he was
a Midd . He was at home in Boston on leave - he nine-
teen, e fourteen; and they fell in love,ﬁirted,sighed,
and parted. He soon rose to Lieutenancy and then
inheriting a great estate in the South, followed his
roving humor, and gettl leave, cruised for two
or three years, in a beam" ul and costly craft, which
he had built, in Baltimore. the meanwhile,
Blanche had been met by Carleton, who became at
once deeplyhi passionately enamored with her;

but toward n1 she felt no other emotion than
a. romantic interest very natural for an i na-
tive ‘rl to feel in ahandsome buccaneer. tor

Blanc e's return to Boston, Harry Ellis again met
her and renewing his vows of attachment, thought
he ound a reciprocal feeling in her bosom, address-
ed her and was rejected! A few months ela sod
and she was again in New York on a visit to to
Powel, now become Kate Hayward. Harry Ellis ar-
rived nearly at the same time in The Lance, and
being a friend of Colonel Powel’s was invited to dine
with him. Judge his suiErlse on meeting in the
dining room the beautiful lanclie Hillary. .She met
him with a frank kindness that led him alnto
cherish a. hope, and after a few weeks” devot on, be
renewed his suit and was accepted. Carleton knew
not that he loved one who was betrothed. If he had
suspected lt—but he did not! and so in safety she
was left by him till the time should come when he
could more favorably press his suit, for Carleton had
in his mind the half-formed idea of reforming his life
for the sake of winning Blanche. His ﬁrst are of
reform was deserting or Evel—his next cu ting
out the Sea Slipper; in ruth a promisin beginning.
But the true, yet false notion which eharbored
was, that Blanche loved him and might be induced
to share his fortunes even in the life he led.
He formed this opinion from Eve‘s t love, and
ﬁie sacriﬁge she had made. But Eve gvedl Blanche
no .

The marriage was settled to take place in six
weeks at Boston; and Captain Ellis had left New
York the afternoon of the cutting out of the schoon-
erto proceed to Boston to have her reﬁtted for a
vo age to England whither he intended to take his
b (is as soon as they were wedded Blanche was to
go with Colonel Powel, Kate, and Ba ward, in the
yacht as far as Newport, and £235 a ew days, and
thence proceed to Boston by d. We have seen
how these Plans were interrupted by the daring
deed of Car eton and Morris Grams.

Blanche stood by the window, from which was a
view of the lawn and the bright river beyond, her
heart trembled still with the idea of the danger
from which Harry escaped, when those in the room
were startled b an axe amation of surprise; and era
the could ask er the cause of her excitement she
ha thrown up the sash of the long, ground window,
and the next moment was ﬂying across the lawn
toward the water.

“Ellis’s b , by the Caesars!” exclaimed Colonel
Powel, who th the rest had sprung to the window.

At once the drawing-room was deserted and at a

aver yet'full fast pace t eypursued the course

on y Blanche, whose t form had alread dis-
appeared in the vgrove w ch crowned a he land
over which were sible the taper masts, one of them
distingue‘i’ﬁied by the silver lance at the fore-royal-
mast

When Blanche reached the rocky headland she saw
the brlg slowly advancmg almost beneath her, the

cross-trees being on a level with the shelf of a rock. '
0n the deck stood her betrothed, who, hearing her ’

pronounce his name. looked u and smiled. waved
and kissed his hand, and then vi an order to his
helmsman the b came her thggheadland, while
he sprung into he fore- gging and went aloft.
The rest of the garty had now reached the rock and
golonel Powel ailed Ellisashe gained the cross-

ees.

“Welcome back Ca taln Ellis! Have you
fallen in with my yacgigtr" p - -

“ By the gods! was that (your yacht. Powel?" an-
swered the oung comman
the brig in e meanwhile slowly nearing the rock.

” Yes; she was cut out and run of! by her former
captain, I am tlve.”

' I am a foo not to have been sure of her. When
I ﬁrst saw her astern I thought it was the yachthgut
havin seen the yacht but once, as it only came

the s p-yard last week I was not sure, and then It

could not think you would have sailed at midnight. I
then took her tabs a revenue cutter. and sailed with
her an hour or two, but she overhauled me. maneuver-

ed inamaster manner, and ﬁnal] came wl
me; and I verilyybelieve would have  b$ I
\ t .r

or from the crow-trees, '

 
an a.

 
The Sea Slipper.

21

 
they discovered that I was armed. As it was they did
me mischief as you see, and I did them some,- as well
as left a nine-pounderin her main-mast. Port a little
there at the wheel.“

“ Port it is," answered the helmsman.

“ How is the depth of water here, colonel?“

“Twenty feet.‘

“ I thought it look black enough for full five fathom.
Hard a port.”

The heimsman obeyed the order,and the brig came
slowly ast the headland, approaching it‘ nigher
and nig let. The young commander, walking out
on the top-gallant-yard, waited a moment for her to
come the nighest; then callin out loudly to the
man at the wheel, “ Starboar , bard a starboardl“
he fearlessly swung himself—just as the vessel was
faliin off a ain andin spite o the cries of the ter-
rified lanc e and of Colonel Powel—far from the

ard—end toward the rock, catching at a branch of a
rec with a firm gras . Then securin a footing
upon it, he with a light bound, stood amid the

roup with his hand clasped in that of the happy

ianche.

“How could you be so rash, Captain Harr i"
said Mrs. Hayward. “Blanche ought not to or-
give {0}). The color has not yet come back to her
chee .'

“You young sailors Will ever be a reckless set,"
said Colonel Powel, shaking him warmly by the
hand. “ Butlam glad to see you, light upon us any
wa on will."

‘ on will stay with us,” inquired, or rather in‘
sisled Hayward, the two youn men havin , since
they first met,become warmly at bed to one other.
V_ “Not five minutes. I must be on board again
when she returns on the other tack, and I will take
y'our boat, colonel, for the pu ose. I only jumped
ashore to say how d’ye do, an explain the cause of
in return." ,

‘We knew it before. Blanche saw your brig and
ran to the river-side as if chasing her runaway
wits,” said Colonel Powel. “The affair is an over
town, and in the papers. It was brought by the
sloo which on spoke."

h, ay. wanted a spar or two, resolved to re-
pair dam es and go in chase of the scoundrel who
run me a card. But after hailing half a dozen
coasters and putting into Norwalk, without etting
what I wanted, I was forced to put back. l§ut by
the Lord Harry! I will catch him."

“ No, lord Hal ,that you don't “ said Blanche,
laughing, yet wi h a look of seriousness in her
sweet beaming eyes; “ you shall run no more risks.
I have a claim upon on, and I mean to enforce it."

"That is right lanche." said Colonel Powel;
“make him feel his responsibility. You see, Ellis,
the traces begin to jingle in our ears alread . But
cheer heart. We men mus all come to it, i we are
fit to make a woman happ , and so long asthe
traces are wreathed With wers, as I am sure
Blanche‘s will be we can wear them for the fra—
grance they yield. '

“Quite sentimental pa,"said Kate, lacking arch-
ly at Colonel Powel; ‘ will you make another such
pretﬁy s each?"

“ isc ief, no. Hayward, don’t let your wife be
too saucy.”

“ Kate, don‘t quiz your father," said Blanche with
are ' h look.

“ h, you are uizzing too. Well, I don't see but
one isas bad as t 6 other. Harry, when you come
again I will take you into my library, shut the door
and give you some lessons as to wife ruling I must
not orget Hayward either.”

“Oh, iyou naughtg pa," said Kate, tap ing his
cheek w th her fore nger. “ But you don look so
wary Bluebeardish, and I will kiss you." Col. Powel
receiVed the kiss with becoming ravity, and then
the part walked along adescen ing ath to the
cove, and so round the white beach to t e opposiite
gut of land where the brig would come inon her
ack. Here, as the vessel came nigh he left them,
promising to be with them in the evening, after he
should have anchored his vessel at the ship-yard.

CHAPTER XV II.
"islmimc' ii ht an ht nd

Tasscene cha s t smoon , g a.
beautiful, and angsilvery radiance galls u on the
rugged shore of the coast of Maine, its red sh glare
glimmering over a wild scene of rock and wave.

A steely river flows to the ocean between barren
and craggy woodlands, and all around is drear and
savage grandeur.

A light wind comes from the south, and the waves
roll in with asuppressed murmur.

Inland half a lea e is a dark higbt, and the moon-
light reveals that t e ruins remain of what was once

fortress. .

3 And in one of the embrasures, standing beside a
gun, is a man, his head bare, his body half naked,
and his hair and board white_ and unshorn.

His eyes are wild, and his gestures those of a
maniac, while he seems to be watching the sea.

Suddeni his aze rests upon the moon, and turn-
iﬁg town. it, w th outstretched arms, he eloquently
‘ dressed it in wonderful glory of language and

m

agery.

Now he spoke with tenderness, now with ﬁerce
displeasure; now deprecating its ven canoe and
now curing forth toward it torrents 0 terrible de—
nunc ation.

Suddenly, in the midst of one of these scenes, he
stopped, and shaking his head de ndingl , seemed
to realize the madness of his co uct; an , sighing.
he said in a tone of touchin woe:

“No—I am not in m rig t mind. The moon is
not God. Yet why cos the moon madden my
brain? I feel not this till it shines. 'Tis the cause
of these paroxysms of madness—for I am mad.
Mencall me mad. I hate the moon. No, I do not
hate the moon. Ho the silver moon," he suddenly
exclaimed, risin and stretchi forth his hands to-
ward it' “ the g orious moon. ive me and I
will bathe in our oceans of light. Curses! ’ he ad-
ded ﬂercel ter a use. “ Thou hearest in silence,
and I see t as smile at thy slave; for I am thy slave.
Thou hast bound me in fetters: thou hast ﬂun
burni chains around my brain. God! I feel t
scorching, and the ﬁre is drivin me to hell.“

He sprung from the u an .rushin along the
battlement stopped fui where it over un a pre-

iipr a hundred feet in death. There he galanced

c
h inselfupon the dizzy hig t, and long and loudly

 
laughed as in mockery of the danger into which the
devil in his brain tempted him to cast himself. All
at once his countenance changed, and so did his
whole manner. Sitting down upon the edge of the
battlement he sohbed like a child and anxiously
looked toward the sea.

“They say she is on the ocean with him some-
where, and so I know if I look and keep watch when
the good moon rises and keeps watch with me, I
shall see her. There’s the ocean, and there I will
keep my eye. I bless the moonlight that hel s me
see the ocean. Oh, I should be so lonely w thout
the moon. Good moon! I will not curse thee.
There comes a vessel. No, ‘tis a wave breaking on
the rocks at Seguin. I have seen so many vessels
come, and yet not his. They say he Will never
come home again. I know they lie. She would
never stay from her father. She is my only child.
She wasa good daughter till she left home. 0h,
curse the hour. Curse him who tempted her. They
lie, when they say she was not deceived and wro A
ed b, how beautiful she was. Some men say re
is hung. They lie. If it was true she would have
come home toher father. She loved me in child-
hood, and she is not evil now. She was deceived.
Her mother is dead weeping for her: and she is
away, and I am here alone, with only the moon to
love me andikeep me company. It‘s a good moon.
His mother died of grief last year, because they told
her her boy was a pirate, Her mother died ofa
broken heart. I did not ciI'y. My heart did not
break. N01 I was strong. shed no weak tears.
I! No! I lau bed when they told me. I laughed
when I read er name, coupled with his in the
papers the neighbors sent me. No, I wept no tear.

omen weep. Men, when the cannot weep—men
~00 mad! and I am mad. have no house, no
clothes no food. I hate man—I hate houses I
love this old fort. When I am hungry I can at er
clams, and when I am sleep I can lie down u this

rassy nook with the moon 0 watch by me all ni ht.

here isasail—she comes—no 'tis a mocker. he
devil sails mock ships on the ocean to make me
mad. ’Tis a vessel near the land. I saw her broad
mainsaii turn white and large to the moon. I shall
see my child, in Ellen now. I have seen man ves-
sels pass, and ailed to ask for my Ellen; lit 1
know now she is come' and when she comes I sha'n’t
mournasl do now. I s a‘n’t be mad; oh no; I will be
happy, and 1 will tell them all she is not bad, but
has come home to bless me. Oh, how fast it comes.
I will sit on my gun and watch it.

The maniac then left his dizzy seat and took a

sition on a dismounted gun in an embrasure look-
ng seaward. Gradually as he watched the advanc-
ing sail, his eyes closed with fatigue and mental ex-
haustion, and he sunk upon the grass by the side of
the gun in dee sleep. .

This poorbe ng whose madness we have witnessed.
had been a cier an of eminence in a village not
far from Bath. e had an onl daughter whom be
spoiled by indulgence. But mo her and father were
both devoted to her, and in no other way did they
feel that they could show forth their love. They
restrained her in no impulse—checked her by no ex—
ercise of authority—never crossed her wayward
will. Near them lived a gentleman who had an on]
son whom he equally indulged. ﬁlm, he at lengt
sent to college, where be early betra edavrcious
propensity} and after two years so ourn at two

iiferent niversities, he was expelie in disgrace,
and went to New York where he entered upon a
course of proﬂigac an lit. The da hter of the
cle yman was at ach to him, and eceived by
his etters, sloped from her father‘s roof. The re-
sult is already in the reader's session. This im~
prudent girl is the mistress of orrls Gnome!

The vessel which the broken-hearted father had
seen was made outas a rakish schooner, standing on
under free sail toward the mouth of the Kennebec.

“ This is a savage coast, Morris," said her captain,

as he stood on the schooner‘s deck ey the
rocky shores with his glass. “Iwould not e a.
storm to catch the Sea llpper upon it "

"There are numerous safe harbors all along the
coast, and vessels are rarel lost here.“

“ It is a romantic and wil region, and seems with-
out inhabitants," said Carleton as he swept the land
with his spy-glass.

“ Yet there is scarcely a cove that has not its fish-
erman's cabin, nor an upland that is not cultivated,

thou h rudely.
“ Ifow far up is this fort?"
“ A half a l e by the water. Now you can see

it lifting its dar head into the sky.

“ Yes, but ’tis impossible to get the guns from that
ht without more means than we can command."
‘No. I have well examined the spot. The path

to the water is even, and twelve men can with ease
and safety get down a gun at a time.

“Be it so. The devil lend us a lever but we get

them aboard; and then be for the rule of the ocean.

“Blow, good breezesi he tide is ebbing and we

0 up slowly,” he added to Morris, who h himself
gaken the helm, as the schooner entered the river.

“ If that revenue cutter,” said Morris, laughin ,

“ that chased us 01! Nantucket shoals, should catc
us in this infernal trap, we should have a hard chance
to get off as well. But I would fight her to the last."

‘ Yes," said Carleton, in a low, deep tone of voice;

“y we must mar be taken.”
9&0 i" cams with equally stern decision from
Morris‘s lips.

” No " echo repeated from the cliff-side with a

stern distinctness that made them start.

CHAPTER XVIII.
dTEE auras-mucus: f m

Summiv, an mov ea spec er 0 e waters,
the schooner glided ong the dark and say
shores, not far from the mouth, and almost y-
ing at the base of the fort-rocks, stretched before
them a low broken beach on the extremity of which
was visible, as they rounded the point, a white cir~
cular battery. It stood out in fine relief in the
moonbeams, and, in the indistinct ht, seemed to
the 6 es of Carleton to be bristli thh .

“ ow is this, Morris?” he sai , qui y; “what
fortress are we coming upon? We are fairly caught.’

" No," answered Gmme, coolly. “ This is a fort
built some time before the late war. but has never
been used, the fortress on the hight so full com-
manding it. It is a pretty affair, and looks ormid-
able by moonlight.”

 
“ Had I been sailing into this river alone I should
certainl have put about u on coming t us upon
it,“ sai Carleton, as they g1 ded past within a bun—
dred ards of its yawnin embrasures.

“'i‘ is is a lovely wi d scene, Edward," said a
sweet voice at his side; “ and there is something in
the danger that your purpose hither associates with
it, that inspires awe as I gaze. How smiling in the
moonlight this low round fort ap ears, with the
grass waving above it, contrasted w h the dark and
savage grandeur of the frowning battlemenls nbnvc
and almost overhanging it. That hight seems the
throne of the battle-god."

“ You are a romantic person, dear Eve," said
Carleton, suffering her arm to rest on his and hl‘l‘
soft white hand to steal for the pressure of his own:

“I learned to be so from you, dear Carleton, it
was you that first opened my eyes and my heart to
the beauties of nature. You taught me to love the
roar of the cascade, to aze w th awe upon the
rocky cliffs, and to love tie beautiful and the sub-
lime in all that our native river re resented. And
from loving nature I learned to ove you as in
spiritual nature. Thou wert my world for my heart s
a idin home."

“An you found it, Eve, 8. world of stems and
earthquakes; all unfair and unlovely; its bosom up-
torn with whirlwinds of passions, and itself often
forced upon its true orbi by its own inward con-
vulsions.

“ Yet, as I delighted to listen to the roar of the
water-fail, to gaze on the wild whirlpool of wrathful
waters, to rejoice in the careering storm and feel a
pleasure in witnessing the fierce uproar of the ele-
ments, even as I enjoyed the lovely and eaceful in
nature‘s serenest mood, so have I lov , yet with
awe, ever, dear Edward, the wild warfare in your
own iinpetuous nature. Iloved not earth less for
its storms and clouds, nor have I loved thee less.
But we do ﬁnd the ty e of all our passions in the
elements and their resu ts.“

“I think I understand your idea, Eve. But see how
sternly and warningI towers this fortress upon us.
Let us discuss t s matter another time,“ he
said, narrowly watching the frowning fortress,
which rose nearly above their heads. “To your
cabin, lest danger should fall upon you—for our
object here may not be accomplished in perfect
security, as Morris thinks."

“ Nay—I will remain on deck and watch you,“
said Eve ﬂ rmly. “ I fear no dan er.“

“Morris, come hither," said ariaton in a low
tone. “ Do you not see the figure of a man reclin-
ing against the outline of the south battlement of
that fort? We are likely to find here some persons
to object to our carrying away our guns.

Morris looked a moment, hen sprung for his
glass and leveled it at the object.

“ It is a man seated on a gun in an embrasure of
the fort. I see but one, and he does not look like a
soldier. He has disappeared, What can this mean?
I could have sworn a human being would not have
been within a league of it."

Could your purpose have been betrayed? But no
—this is mpossib e.“

“The fort may have been manned since I was
there a few weeks ago. At all events this looks sus-
picious and we must act warlly. There is no one
else to seen. We are now so near that I could see
acrow if one were sitting on the to of the fort.
Yet there is some one there and wha his pu ose
can be, unless to guard the place, I canno tconce ve."

“ If there is one, then, there are more than one "
said Carleton. “ Forts are not usually given 11
chagge of a single man."

“ e will soon know,“ said Morris. “ I will stand
on; for our character cannot be suspected, and if
we ﬁnd resistance we must meet it as we best can.
I can depend upon the twenty men we have.“

“ The guns we must have at whatever risk,“ said
Carleton, with decision. “Let her stand on and let
the issue he put in fortune‘s hands. As we approach
nearer I can discover nothing upon the fort. '1 his
must have been, I think, a delusion after all Morris.“

“No. Idistinctly recognized a uman figure. It
was barebeaded and seemed half-naked, as it ap-
peared to me."

“Then some wild man of the woods, rhaps, who
haunts the spot,“ said Carleton, laughlrg. “ I have
heard of such rsons.

“ We anchor neath the cliff in the deep shadow
there," said Morris from the helm. “As we come
nigher we shall find a path winding from the water
up to the fort. We can la close alongside of the
rock, as the water is ten fat mm deep."

" the fort is manned, we are now, at least, too
far under their guns to be injured," said Carleto
as the Sea Bigger gilded toward the calm, shelters
spot indicat y orris Graeme, bringing the for-
tress ench moment further above their head
at length it was no more visible. In a few moments
afterward the schooner la close to the cliff with her
sails, not one of which ha been lessened, unmoved
by a breath of air.

"We shall have to tow out of this black hole,"
said Carleton, as the schooner came gen to and
ceased further motion with its bow again: the side
of the precipice. “Have the boats down and at-
tached, with oars in all ready, if we should have to
do it in a hurry. If this was in the West Indies,
I should say we were in for a pretty adventure.“

“ Be assured we shall ﬁnd no one in the fort. I
will take half the men and lead, as I am familiar
with the path. The rest better remain in charge of
the schooner, in case of surprise.“

The Sea Slipper was now secured by her hawsers
to the rock, bath at the bows and stern, as snu 1y as
if she had been lying at a ier. Planks were ﬁaced
from the waist to the rec , where the ascenycom-
menced. It was decided that Morris should take the
lead with ten men, and, on ascertaining that the
way was clear, he was to give the signal, when
Carleton. with eight of the remainder, was to follow
him, the men bearing the ropes and necessary tackle

for removing the guns.

Morris Gnome spru ashore with a light, adven-
turous s irit character tic of him in acts of dan er,
followe by his men. He had his own pistols w ch
he had retained, and brou ht on board with him at
New York as also had Cat eton. Some of his men
had a sing e pistol each, and others were aimed with
knives, harpoons, or capstan-bars, as the could
collect them on board. As they ascended er, the
path turned on to the right and became less steep as

s, until

2.2

The Sea. Slipper.

 
it wound round the rock. At length he suddenly I my child is. Give her to me orI will tear thy heart

’ He seem aminedto ‘u
Carleton would ave rughe

- the burning e es upon

emerged above the trees, into an opening within a few
feet of the base of the fortress. It towered above
him in stern silence. His lance narrowly ranged the
whole breadth of the w is but neither ear nor eye
could detect any signs of the presence of man.
Half inclined to adolpt Carleton‘s su estion that he
had been deceived,
advance again, and then with a conﬁdent and fa-

miliar step, hastened to the battlements and with a .

shout gave the s nal to Carleton. It was returned
from the deck of t e schooner below in her captain’s
clear tones.

“Nay, Eve, you must not follow me," he said
kindly.

“ But there is no danger. Besides, I have made a
vow in my heart and sworn b my love, that I will
not leave you. I have wrongs you, Edward, in be-
ing jealous—for I Wasjsulous, but for a wicked mo-
ment only. After your kindness to me for the last
few days, I can never believe you false, or that you
do not love me. Let me go with ou.

“ Have th prett will," said Car eton, layfully.

“You  ask t e captain for me," ca d avoice
near her and only heard by her. She looked round
and saw by her side the handsome lad whom Carle-
ton had made his steward.

“Yes, you shall go, Little Belt," she said with ‘

cheerfulness. “ Edward, let Belt leave the schooner
to have a climb on the rouks. He merits it, he has
made himself so useful."

“ If you wish it, Eve," answered Carleton; and
the boy grasging her hand bounded before her up
the nth, an was soon far our. of sight.

“ at an affectionate yet strange boy he is,“ she
said after a moment’s silence, as they climbed the
bight, her arm clinging to Carleton‘s. “ Little Belt
can't be his true name, either. How came you by
him on board?"

“ I never saw him till I was on board. He came in
with the other men. Morris probably knows him."

' lwill ask him about him," she said, as the at
in h emer d in full view of the walls of the ort,
an beheld orris Graeme standing by a’ gun upon
the battlements watching their ascent.

“ it is all as I expected, Carleton. The fort is un-
occupied, and the man I saw must have been an ap-
parition or a delusion. But I could swear he ~was
bareheaded. Heaven defend us! here he is again,”
cried the youngdieutenant, starting aside from the
embrasure in w ich he stood, with alarm and sur-

rise. as a half—naked wild ﬂ (-3 sprung to his feet
‘rom beneath the gun where e had been unobserved

e waved his ban to his men. to .

 
in the (lee shadow, and seized him by the arm. Car- :

leton and ve both started at the s ht and gazed
upon him with wonder as he stood, 1, wild and de-
nionitw upon the deﬁned outline of ihe fortress, his
gray hair streaming, his chest naked—the moonlight
gleaming ghastly upon his haggard countenance in
which his eycsg owed like volcanoes. Eve recoiled
with fear, and ariston gazed with horror.

“ Who and what art thou ?“ demanded Graeme, en-
deavoring to throw the madman off.

“ My htcr! hast thou brought back In daugh-
ter?" ﬁerce y cried the maniac. “Thou shal not go
till thou hast brought back my daughter ” and e
suddezélty .threw his arms close! round
involv him in his embrace, w ‘ e he yelled in a
voice. between grief and rage: “I have thee now—-
I have thee close. Tho‘u art mine, and thou shalt
be hell's till thou give me back my child—my child.”

“ Help-for ’s sake, Carleton, helﬁ. I am With-
out ﬁiower to move in his iron grasp. astan round
to t e ate and come and release me from this de-
mon. s will hurl me from the precipice."

Carleton obeyed and ﬂew along the path followed
by Eve. He sprun past the men who were standing
immovable, comp eter Rarelyzed 'by ,this strange
and sudden spectacle an leaping upon the grass-

wn battlement he hastened around the rampart
the preciuitous quarter where Morris stood strug-
gling with the madman. -

In the meantime the maniac continued to make
his wild thrilling appeals to him for his child.

“ I know nothing of thy child. Release me, demon,
or I will hurl thee from the rock, “ cried Morris, with
rain led fur and fear.

“ 3., ha, ! thou llest—thou best my daughter!
Give me back in daughter! I am mad for my
child. I am craz for m lost one." Here his man-
ner suddenly changed. e released him and knelt
before him. “ Give her to me, Morris Graeme, and I
will recall the father's curse that now is on thy
11 Oh, return her to me and I will bless thee."

Carleton and Eve had come near and seeing that
Morris was releasedhthey stopped and listened:

“How knowest t on me by name, old man?" do»
mended Grmme hoarsely.

“ Thou dost not know me then? Hast thou torn so
many daughters from their times that thou shouldst
be at a loss for father‘s name when he appeals to
thee?" said the other rising to his feet and regarding
him with flashing eres.

“ My daughter demand her at thy band! I will
kneel to thee! Give me back my chi d I say! Re-
turn to me my lost Ellen."

“ lien !" repeated Gmme, from the very depths
of his being as if the sound of that name had moved
the foundation of his guilt soul. He gazed on the
face of the madman and t rough all the de adation
of form and wreck of mind he recognized t e father
of her he had wronged. Graeme seemed rooted to
the spot. Who can paint the horrors of his con-
science in those still moments of reﬂection, with the
fearful sleigernatural gaze of the lunatic 'upon him?

‘ ment before his time.
forward and relieved
Morris from the presence of the man but Eve said:

“No let us see the issue. If Mom’s Grams hath
done this wrong, this is God‘s judgment and we may
not interfere.‘ Carleton suffered himself to
guided by her, but her words deeply troubled his'
own thoughm‘ At length Morris Graeme spoke—for
he could not longer en are the fascinating look of

' him. v He spoke‘ soothineg;
but his voice rambled. ‘

“0t thy daughter, good man, I know nothing.
Thou shouldst seek her elsewhere than of me."

“ Thou iiest," shouted the madman. “ Thou canst
not deceive a lunatic forthe God who hath taken
awn his reason hath left in its place a acity that
lung at reason. I can retydjhy thmggﬁts, and to.
my burning brain they are written upon th black
heart in letters'of blood. Thou knowest we where

him and - ‘

 
be l

- the momen she appeared

from thy foul throat.“

Quicker than thought, and ere his. purpose was
anticipated the madman caught Morris again in the
same terri c embrace as be ore. The young man
felt his hot breath 11 on his face, and the glare of his
eyes which burned ike furnaces seemed to scorch
his brain. He was nearly mad. He struggled but
vainly, to disen age himself. But the strength of
the maniac was ‘ke that of three men.

“Nay then, ﬁend of hell! if thou wilt but let me
go I wi tell thee of th dau hter ".ho gasped.

nstantly he was unc aspe , and Just as Carleton
had again advanced to release him. who a second
time was withheld by Eve. The madman‘s_manner
changed to a uiet bearing; and clas ing his hands
be bent eager forward in an attitu e to hear.

“She is in ew York. Six days since I left her
there. She will probably be at home, as I left a.
note with her, saying I should not return to her, and
that she had best go back to you.” Morris ceased.
The father remained a moment, silently regarding
him. He then spoke musingiy as if to himse f: '

“Home/ you say home! ’ his place ' now her
home. The sound of the sea will be her 1 llahy—for
her singing mother is dead. If she would come to me
she must come hither to me, for here is my only
home. Ha! and what hast than to do , here?" he
ﬁercely demanded; “he/'0. in my house! Wouldst
thou bring woe and madness and burning hell here?
Thou hast cursed with th Jresence one fair home,
and what dost thou here ut thou shalt not deﬁle
this sanctuary of the God-aﬂlictcd. The spot is sa-
cred to madness and woe. ‘Tis the home hallowed
by woe, woe, woel The whistling Winds howl woe!
the lashing waves shriek woe! the Wild sea-bird
screams woe! a thousand demons dance on every rock
and sit in every tree, and cry nothing but woe. 0b
’tis a sweet woeful place! and ‘Hs my (tome! What
dost thou in it, dealer? I will hurl thee into the sea."

With an air and gesture niﬂcant of the pu ose
he ex ressed in his ﬁerce wage, he lea to-
ward ne young man, who, antic pa ing his in ntion
retreated and sprung across an embrasure behin

him. The madman, excited by the appearance of i

ﬂight, shricked ﬁercely and bounded after him. Mor-
ris stopped with a curse upon his lips, drew his pis-
tol from his belt and leveled it at him. Headless of
it the lunatic rushed onward and Morris ﬂred.

“Tpkc thy death, then, if’you Will have it, mad-
man. '

The maniac staggered, ressed his hand to his
temples, from which the b ood poured as if from a
fountain, and then recovering himself made a fear-
ful leap forward, and a third time Morris Gimme
found himself clasped in his embrace.

“ Now, by my soul, Eve, I must to his reams," ex.

claimed Carle;on.

“See! behold! the will‘go over the cliff. Oh God!
this is terrrible,“ s 0 so denly shrieked, covering
her eyes and ears wii h both her hands.

The grasp .of the lunatic wm the grasp of death.
Graame realized all his er. He struggled for
life, while the madman strove fearfully to url him
over the battlcments mumblin all the while indis-
tinct maledictions. Ho foam at the mouth, and
Morris was bathed in the hot life-blood that stream-
ed from the wound in his temples. For a few mo-
ments the contest for the mastery was terrific to
witness. The battlements seemed to tremor beneath
the feel: of the two men. The madman strove, ln-
spired b vengeance—Morris for love of life. Curle-
ton invo untarily paused to witness the issue, when
suddenly, after a terrible st gle down on the

ound, both stood sus nded a ovc the precipice.

h had a foot brace upon the ver c. Both eyed
each other in menacing silence.— e last move-
ment would hurl them both into the rocky bed he-
neath. With breathless awe all looked on without
ower to stir to aid them. It was at this moment
but Eve shrieked. It was instantly echoed bya
shriek wilder still.

Startled by the shriek, and its wilder echo, the
madman re eased his hold of erme, ekclaiming:
“ ’Tis Ellen, my child! my child!“

Morris feeling himst free from him with a dim-
cult effort recovered his footing; but in the act he
so suddenly threw the lunatic from him that he
reeled on the verge, where, balancing himself, he
stood an instant between earth and air, stretching
forth his hands toward a female form that suddenly
appeared before all e cs upon the battlement. \

‘ Bless thee my id, thou hast come at last to
thﬁfather: I orgivc—bles s on—th—"

is last words were lost n air. With a dead,
heavy, headlong pi e he disappeared over the
battlement into the v0 (1 beneath.

CHAPTER XIX.

run NEMEEIIS.

Wars the last murmur of the disturbed waters
had died away every one turned to gaze upon the
form that ha so suddenly appeared before their
eyes and those of the falling lunatic. It _was that of
atalland graceful female robed in white! But it
now was not the emblem of peace and purity. Her
garments were disarrayed and rent in the ex-
posed bosom. Her unbound hair‘ fell in long, dis-

eveled masses about her shoulders, and her feet
were bare and bleeding. The moonlight shone up-
on her countenance, and revealed features of sur-
prising beauty and proudly cast. But deadly pale
was her brow, and colorless the check where once
had bloomed the rose. The eyebrows were bent in
stern regard upon Morris Graame. The eyes,large and
wild, were ﬁxed u n him with a. strange, unearthly
intensity. Her at tnde was threatening and as she
stretched forth her whitenrms toward Gnome, she
a peared like a spirit of evil—a fallen, yet still beau-
t 1 ﬂmural—come to adjudge, condemn anggunish.
Silent and awed stood the score of crime-h y buc-v
cancers on the green sward within the fortress; and
silent'and observing remained Carleton and Eve,
 alternateleyd u n he}: and Meg‘snsrﬁige.

n ow a ear ’ onng m

, p ﬁuike’azrision upon the bat-
ﬂement. Radius 6 es met her form, he stood like
one struck into a game of horror by some iludgment
of Heavens He heard not the man led all of the
lunatic’s bounding body, as it plung from rock to
rock until the dashing waves opened to receive it
into their secret bosom! his ears were eyes! his
senses were become eyes! he could onlv~ see the
form before him. tier steady gaze paralyzed his'

«
s

‘ soul; he could not look awa ; but, as if compelled

b some fatal fascination,s ill gazed upon her as

e gazed u on him. But how different the expres-
sion of the r looki—bis horror-struck, fearful and
full of remorse and evil forcbodings; hers proud,
stern, full of vengeance and undyi Late.

There they stood, confronted on t at lofty battle-
ment‘s verge, in the full moonlight, the awe struck
and curious groups standing silent and breathless
awaiting the issue. Carle on and Eve had both
heard can b from that lunatic, and knew enough
of Morris’s tor to comprehendin part the nature
of the wild scene efore them. To the men the fig.
ure was an apparition from the other world. And
Morris Graeme would rather such it had been than
the reality it was. Two minutes—oh, what hours of
mental suffering the involved to the guilty young
maul—passed in t s 'manner; aze to gaze. the
basilisk enchaining the fear-struc e e of its victim.
Grazme’s lips moved, and his ban 5 opened and
clenched, and he seemcdas if striving to call on
Carleton for deliverance from her; but no words
cantie from him, and he could make no intelligible
ges ure.

“ How fearful !“ whis d Eve, under her breath;
“how .dreadful must e the unishment of the
guilty in the world to come, if od permits such vis-
tatlons of judgment here !’

‘f Hush! she speaks " said Carleton, whose own
guilty character woul not let him listen with tem-
per to Eve's words.

“Morris Glam ./7’—the deep, deep, unearthly
tones of that voice! they made every man start.
Evel'yeve was turned on Morris Graeme—he trem-
bled vxsibly, and covered his face with his hands.

She approached him, and laid her white hand up-
on his wrist, and said again in the same deep voice
—“ Morris Graeme look ufp."

IIe removed his hands rom before his e es, and
looked in her face, which was bent close to is. The
kick he encountered caused him iustantlyto drop

is e es.

"Aﬁl, Morris Gmmel“ she said in a. softer tone,
but with her stern beautiful features still ﬁxed in
immovable rigidity, and her large wild eye scanning
his face; “ time was when you loved to look upon
me, and to gaze into my e es! But those were the
days of thy love—This, ’s e added, in a tone that
made him shrink—“ (his is my hour of ha‘e.’ Ha,
ha, Gnome! dost thou not love me now? I can re-
member, whenb this same moon, my only lover,
we walked toget er arm locked in arm, heart coin.-
ing to heart, and I was to be thy bride. It was a
sweet dream—but 'tz'a gone. You went far away,
and when I followedthee to be thy bride, thou did: t
falsely wed me: taking my true heart and virgin
love, givin me foul lies, and still fouler dishonor, in
return. at I cursed thee not i—still I forgave and
loved thee. And when once I believed thee deed by
Hayward’s band, I wept over lbee as if thou had-.4.
never done me the great wrong that broke my heart.
But thou didst not ove as I loved, Morris Gimme, or
else thou wouidst not have dishonored met Tl'i‘u
love ever elevates, never degrades its object. Time
passed, and you became weary of me. Six nights
ago you desert me, destrover! I wept nut— l
cursed not—I reso ved to die! Your sug estion that
I should return to my father‘s roof 1,0 yed, for I
would seehim once sin, and receive his blessing

before I died. I this ay reached my native village; '

my home was in the hands of strangers my father,
I asked for him—the scorned me,an turned me
from their doors, an bade me seek him amen the
rocksbylthe sea-shore, for there he wanders (it y
andnig t, amadmunl And all said I had brokcn
his heart—that I had crazed m father, and driven
him to the holes in the rocks—t t I had murdered
my mother, and when he should die I should be his
murderer! And so they drove me forth with epi-
thets of scorn and dishonor; and then in m
:37, in my inmost being, I did curse thee ! , Mor-

s Gmme! I went forth, and at every place I came
Iknelt outside the ate—for I dared not enter a
house again—and wi clas (1 hands asked who had
seen my father? And so wandered on till night
came; in feet were bleedingjand my bod wearied'
but Ico d' neither rest nor n r till I ad found
my father. The moon rose. I saw a ﬁsherman
launching his boat; he ﬂed at my approach, but
when he saw me kneel upon the sbaxp shells that
strewed the wet beach he come near me and said
‘Poor thing, thou art crazed too!" and he would
have taken me into his house. But no; I had no roof
henceforth but that free sky which covered my
crazed father‘s head. He then said it was God's
iudgment come upon me and bade me seek my

other in this lace. And hither I climbed the weary
hill and I Leh d myfathcr-but how, Morris Graeme?
How i“ Here her voice, which in the foregoing nar—
rative had been low and earnest and sinﬁdariy
touchingin its tone, rose on the still air 9 the
n ht shriek of the battle hawk. “I saw him hand
to and eye to eye, struggling with ﬁne for his fast
oozing life! Thy brow wet with his fresh blood—
tby band crimsoned with the warm life that gave
me life; Ibeheld th efforts to 'hurl lim from the
battlement; I belie his r‘avy hairs streaming in the
contest, his visage m I 1th grief and vengeance
and woe! God gave me energy and strep b, and I
,ﬂew to save him; but ’lwns too late' thy and had
done its deed of blood! He heard. my voice—he
knew his long-lost child‘s tones and turned his e 'es
and hand upon me and blessed me! In 0 ng
that blessing bergerlahed by thy red right hand. thou
thrice-d ed mu erer!“

“For ‘s sake, Elleniﬂbse calm !" exclaimed Mor-
ris Grasiz‘iiemvsvhotlliﬁd b We ln‘stme mteaséire
recovere us se - on' ‘ mean no 0
slay him; he was the assailant, and I did it to pre-
servem ownlife.”

“ Thy fer Whatis tbyvile life. man compared
with his! Thylife was forfeited to him for the
wron thou hast done, and thou wart a coward to
seek osave it! Hut thou not robbed him of his
child? East than not slam his wife? Has thou not
robbed him of his reason? Hastthou not dishonored
his daughter? What hadst than to do with sacriﬁc-
ing him to save th , ? Thou art guilty and ac-
cursed, evil man! 6. day of thy

heart,

 
retribution has
come, and God hath ﬂit'" that into my hand. .For
thy anus Morris Grams, I have sacriﬁced honor,
and the lives of .all' I love—in arms then shalt

 
’ than now atone with thy life for e and mine.“
Instantlyhewaslocked in heer embrace; so

 
. ’

 
HITUIH‘

Cami—:‘mlinDi—‘n:c~dmh‘1

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sudden and unlocked-for was this act that he could
not resist: there was but a momentary stru v lo, and
with a wild, maniac laugh, mingled With w ch was
heard his raving shriek or aid, she sprun over the
precipice with him in her arms. Car eton had
sprung forward, but too late; he could only see a,
confused dark and white mass bounding down the
broken sides of the cliff, and With a oud sound
plun e into the sea.

“ ere was onlya woman in white that struck
the water, sir,” said Red Fred, who, With all the
rest, had rushed forward to look over the edge of
the battlement. “I watched the fall- lllr. Gimme
must have been caught by one of the rocks or
trees.“

Adee groan at this instant reached their ears
from be ow, which corroborated his words.“

“I believe you are right," exclaimed Carleton;
“ down with you after me to see it he is lying among
the rocks, and is alive.“

Midwa the cliff, and near the path, led by his
moans, arleton came upon Morris, faintly clinging
by one arm to a root growng in the mower: of the
rock; he was ten feet distant, and it was impossible
to approach him on account of the steep face of the
cliff at this part.

“ Hold on, Morris, a moment or two," he cried, en-
couragi ly. “‘Bear a hand here, Fred, with half a
dozen fat om of that running rigging ” he shouted;
“ now secure it to that shelf above and make a run-
nin noose."

“ or God‘s sake be nick, Carleton; I am bruised
sﬁid lialf dead and can old on no longer,” gran-nod

orr 3.

“Courage, Graeme; there ﬂies the noose—lower
yet. Fred: ass it under his feet; now raise it gently
up his b0 y—hold; now draw it together close;
there, now we have you safely moored, Morris; let

0 the limbi Hold on ﬂrmﬂthetiile 01191:? Ellen: 1101‘)"

cave awa. all of en; en y, ere s _inie enoug ;
steady' thsere conzes hli’s head—hit him over the
rookilthrelei or four9 of you; kindly, kindly; dont

5 cans.
yo: 1:52? wa'sgf'ormed of the men‘s entwining arms
and the wounded man was borne to the foot of the
rock on board the schooner,

“ This has been a strange night‘s work," said Carle-
ton musingly, as the men moved down the path
with their burden.

When the last gun was on board, and the decks
cleaned Carleton gave orders to tow the schooner
out of e calm nook where she lay, to meet the
breeze; and as he did so he felt a light hand upon

3 arm. ‘

“ Carleton, let us not 0 thus and leave the dead
father and daughter un uried."

“ You as truly, Eve; but time presses, and there
is not two ours to dawn' I have to take in powder
ere sunrise, without which our guns are so much

t .

“ It will take but a few moments. 0h, Carleton,
if you love me, leave not the dead we saw so latel
in life to bleach in the sun, or be a pre to the ﬂs
and carries fowli There i“ she pointe , shad derin -
ly, “lies her body. glistening white where the ti 6
has left it; he cannot be far from it. Let a barrow
be made of oars, and let the men hear them back to
the fort, which he so pitifully called his Ill/17M. and
there, within the shadow of the gateway, let a grave
be du to hold them both. You will feel better, and
so w Graeme."

“ It shall be as vou say; does he still lie as insensi-
ble as when I «at 5 arm and ankle?”

“Yes heavily breathing, as if in a doe brain-
sleep. Natureisrepairln the strenggl; of o with-

in ere she restores sensib t to the d ."

1‘ I fear, Eve,” he said, she. ghishoadf “ we shall
have to make a third grave."

“ No, he will wake at sunrise "

“I hope 50. Who is with him?“

“ Belt the strange boy, weeps, constantly, and fans
him wit out rest. ' ,

Orders were then van to construct a barrow, and
Carleton preceded h men to the foot of. the rock,
where the white garments of Ellen indicated the
s t where she lay. They took her up, her long hair
ﬁppin with sea brine, and laid her upon the bier;
her mar le face was unbruised and wore the same
stem expression which the recital of her wrongs had
impressed upon it, living. The mangled corse of
the miserable father was band i across a rock,
withhis head and breast house 11 6 water. The
lifeless form of the da liter was ﬁrst borne to the
gate of the fortress, an laid upon the ground by the
wide grave which the men had dug. Then came,
borne u on the bier upon four men’s shoulders, the
half-saga, bruised body of the madman. Side by
side in the shallow grave they were laid, in the cold
moonlight, anél tlhetin a sail was thrown decently

- m b at e on. '
“Skate, my): men, cover them u ,“ said Carleton
turning away, not without emot on at the painful
ht '

‘N'a .Carleton—hold, meni Edward, do not bury
themt us like do i”

“What would 5'5: more, Eve?“ he said moodily,
for he half-guessed her request. “ . '

“ The hOIy service for the dead.

“Tia mocks i t care they whether men
curse or bless t em now!" i .

will repeat the service.
2213:;ghoulgiag mi hock." l to I li alwa s
w e n' ave
loved to read ml think 3: a in my’ésd hours. I w

not detain you five minutes 10 1-.
life is such as it is—your pursuﬁgeso unlawful and
err-ing— you are not unmindful of the better forms
0: better years.

"When were my years better. Eve?" he said bit-
terly. “ Have I not been ever from be hood what I
now'amr Who taught me ood in our years?

“And oh, wilt thou cheri this bell i '

“‘Nay, I said not I belim‘ad in a. better life tocome:
I do not. If therein a God then this world and we
are his creatures. An is all evil here, Ever As his
creation ifhere, so w it be there; as it is now, so
wigi it be oreveri—evil and misary under all his do-
n on. i

“ This is a. fearful blasphem i" cried Eve, with a,
shudgeﬁ. “I know you do not eve as you speak. '

“No more! th rfor the dead if thou
wilt. and mommylilptgiyzel care not to see 

| I

 
  Sea Slipper.

23

 
make a fool of thyself, Evei" and the nnbelleving
man turned slowly from the grave.

Eve, the eiitle, lov , imaginative Eve, looked
after him w th a sigh an a pro. er, and then turning
to the two-fold grave, devout y knelt by its side.
Two or three of he seamen gathering round knelt
also and all but Red Fred reverentiy bowed their
hea 5. How beautiful was the sight. The green
rain art with its yawning eiiibrasures, with the sea
and slands spread beneath and around' the group
of buccaneers on one side of the grave, half lost in
the shadow of the gateway; the tall, dark figure of
Carleton, standing alone on the battlemeiit a short
distance ofl’, silently surveying the scene; the open
grave, with the canvas pull, and the kneelin ' form
of the lovely priestess for the dead, with her c as ed
hands upon her bosom, and her egos uplifted in of-
ty and lure devotion to the blue eaven above her
head. cop and singularl impressive was the si-
lence of that moment. lush! listen to the low,
swoet voice of prayer ’0 up from the grave‘s side,
and lascend from that ofty night like incense from
an a tar.

“I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he
shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And
though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet
in my flesh shall I see God‘ whoml shall see for
myself, and mine eyes shall behold him and not
another.

She rose from her knees, and, in a voice of solemn
sweetness, roceeded as follows:

“I am t e resurrection and the life, saith the
Lord: be that believeth in me, though he were dead,

ct shall be live; and whosoever liveth and believeth
n me shall never die. "

The men stood a few moments in silence after the
sound of her voice had ceased and she had turned
away; there was then a general movement to ﬁll up
the grave, but no words were interchanged, save one
or two necessary orders given b Red Fred in an un-
dertone. The work was comp eted, and the men
took up their barrow and descended the path to the
schooner. Still Carleton, their chief, stirred not
from the 5 0t where, with folded arias, he had stood
watching t is burial. Eve at length approached him.

“ Edward, the men wait for you.”

“ Eve,“ he said in a gentle tone “ I do confess
that I have been so ly moved. But thisis not time
nor lace for suchi stalk. Eve 1e us on board,
and earn how it goes with poor Mo 5." ,

Thus speaking, and suffering the true and faithful

‘ Eve to lean upon his manly form, he descended the

path to the vessel. In a few minutes afterward she

was towed out from her shelter—the breeze caught ;

her sails—the boats were called aboard, and once
more the Sea Slipper was gliding along with in-
creasing motion u on her native element.

With alight, bu fair wind, she stood on her way
up the river with the helm under the management
0 Red Fred; who was the only one on board, now
that Morris Graeme was no longer able to be on
deck, familiar with the winding and narrow channel
of the Kennebec. Carleton paced the deck with an
uneasy sits and troubled air. The injuries of Morris
Grmme h deprived him of his services, when most
in requisition. He felt he could trust no other per-
son as second in command of the schooner. Head-
land after headland was passed by the schooner,
and hnifan hour had elapsed since they left the
rock when he became impatient.

“ ow is this,.Fred?" he demanded; “ Gimme said
gig  ’was not two leagues up, and we have come

a .

“ Soon as we clear the wooded point ahead, sir,
we shall come in sight of it. Ibave been up this
river many a time in a Kennebec sloop, when I was a.
boy before the mast. ’ There sir, now it opens: see
the white houses and the churches, how they are
filled u with moon a-glistening on 'em." .

“An the powder-house! where does it stand 9“

“ Hereawaiiy, sir; if on will take a look inst under
the after is lug-blo‘ but one, between t and thev
ratlin, you will fetch it in range!” answered Fred,
removing his wheel half a turn. '

“ Yes—I see it crowning 8. led a, apart from the
town. How can we reach it and covered?"

“I know the path to it sir; and we shall not be
disturbed at this hour. fwiu run the schooner in
alongside an old deserted pier you see just oﬂ the
larboard bow and we can ship the.powder from
that on boa ." '

The Sea Slipper was thenrrun along close to the
shag-3 until she neared the broken pier, which was a
wh situated half a mile below the town, and
quite remote from observation. The sail was grad-
ually lessened on her, and in a few minutes she came
to the pier, and was secured b the hawser run
ashore. The town, with its bar or and vessels,
was visible above; but all was still, save the dis-
tant striking of a clock which warned them that
day was not ar oif. Taking half his men and re-
Fer barrows and slings to convey the pow er. ar-

eton left the schooner and guided y Red Fred,
pursued a rock , wooded path leading to the l e.
A few minutes brisk travel brought them to e
bleak 11 land rock; on which the solitary structure
stood, arfroman dwelling. It was small, but se-
curer constructs of brick and stone, with a slated
roof. The door, thou h massive, was soon forced
0 en, and Carleton en ering, found piled up on one

do thirty large-sized km filled with powder.
three trips to the schooner a score of these small
barrels were removgg on board. and safe stowed
in the magazine. oming by this time an to

wn, and casting off the hawser from the pier,
these bold buccaneers were once more on the wa-
ter. “Now am i a man sin." said Carleton em-
phatically, as be baked bac on the recedi town,
and then wambec the swift p of the sc ooner
seaward. V “Now,” and his voice fell in its tones
dwpgned‘ with feeling, “now shall Blanche Hillary

no

be m .
With these daring th hts in his heart, be paced
the schooner’s dec , unt the wide sea once more

 
o ened its heaving bos0m before him to to receive

6 b0 V

“Y there the sea spreads her wide to wei—
comeeli’er Ion mini Blow fresh, ye  winds,
blow fresh and f , and hurry me to her, embrace.
wen, Eve, how fares it with poor Mo will
downandseehimas soon asweclearthis
There frowns, with the dawn lightening its sum
the fortress to the right, where we buried the m
fatherandhis dang tier. I shall ne’er forget that

. x: ,
c

 
scene, nor thy voice of prayer. Nay —-no preaching
now, pretty one. Thou best not told me how my
lieutenant fares.“

“ He has not yet come out of his state of insensi-
bilit . With the risin ' sun he will revive."

“ hope so. I we (1 not lose Morris now. We
have work for both before us. In the boy with him?”

“ Yes. nor has he left him. What purpose or
plan is in your heart, Edward. I hope no evil, that
you should wish Morris Graame’s aid."

" Listen Eve," he said, walking slowly and
thoughtfully with her toward the stern, his brown
meeting as they did when he was deeply iioud.
“ I am about to tell thee, what may not please time
well, because there is in it other love than iliiiio.
Nay—do not startl I have already told you, I know
not how to return thy love."

Eve gasped but spoke not and painfully listriied.

“But to my story, as thou hast Just wished to
know m present purpose. A years. 0, and but a
few wee 's before our mar— before returned to
Charleston I was commander of such a vessal as
thisin the est Indies, with a wild and savage crew
of Spaniards and mulatmes; but men ab'ectly under
my authority. My schooner was called l 10 Sea Slip-
per, as I have named this. I fell in with a ckvt
shi bound from Boston to New Orleans, and card-
ed or without resistance. Arno the passengers
was a lovely and youthful Spanis widow. whom I
resolved to take With me aboard the schooner. Do
not shrink, Evei Had I loved thee I should not have
so resolved. Her father was also 9. passes er; and
learning that he was immensely opulent, an having
been disappointed in finding specie on board, my
cupidity got the better of my passion and l ransomv
ed or to him for a very esum. he wrote me an
order for the amount on b s banker in Havana, and
I left the acket shi to pursue her course to New
Orleans, w 119 I stoo in for Havana, which was but
a few hours‘ sail. Before I reached port, I
fell in With a heavily armed British cruiser, and
being hotly ursued 1 ran my schooner ashore, and
took to the
taken possession of and burned before 11 eyes;
But, thank the gods, 1 have another, the re ow to
her, beneath my feet. Without a vessel I dispersed
my men for two months and alone, and in disguise,

rooeeded overland to avana. The amount of the

. raft would have purchased me another vessel.

Fashionably attired as a stranger, I sallied out from
my retreat, in a house near the P1181 o, to present my
draft. After along unsuccessful search to find the

house upon which it was drawn I was satisﬁed that,

the names were fictitious and that no such bank-
ing-house was known in fiavnna. You may judge
my erce isa pom men an rents 0 ve eance
ii d g t t d th 5 ng
upon the old paniai-d; for I had built up all my
hopes of getting another vessel u on this monev.
The same a! a etter reached me, nformin me of
the death 0 my father. I instantly ember ed for
Charleston. The remainder of my wry, you
know. Eve. But I have more to add respecting this
sci ursed Spaniard. I have had intelligence that be
resuled in a magniﬁcent mansion, a league outside
the walls of Havana. My first purpose is, now that
I am once more in command of a vessel, to pay this
wily cavalier and his beautiful daiéﬁhter a visit. I
made oath to do it whenever I ould tread the
deck of another vessel its master. After this ex-
pedition I have another one, Eve, will please thee
ess thiathls—but thy looks tell me thou hast heard
enou . i

“I are I" she answered, in a (leap suﬂerin tone.

“You are oﬂ'ended with me ve tonchng my
faiticy for'tbe fair Castinani lint, tile», thou wert
no my— i
g!“  the word! Say 'wift‘, Carleton, and I for-

ve a x x ,

“ 'I‘illlon wert not then my wife, Eve," he said, with
a sin e.

“ Yet thou hast just now said thou art again seek-
in her. I know not, Edward how it is, but I know
1 0 hate this fair Splamard. lam a miner and thy
love my treasure, w ich I watch with an jealous
careghattiwouldﬁiot otthber eyes slmwigdtllooknpon it i"

we, on w e e co v treasure
“3‘31"”, t r y apt: l yh is

‘ eaven pu or away a a ess our!" she

said. with emotion. “I dobegin lie realize some-

thing 'of what thou would have me believe “ she.

added with teaching re
been blinded by my love!
heart is breaking as I 5

‘tion; “I know Iliave
mil confess—though my
not as thou hast done 33%” m‘h“ “vi?” me
thee Edward." e u 0 used

“ will tell thee what it is—nayl dare not nowi
See how we are suddenly lifted upon the billows
and feel again the familiar rocking of the ocean.

oats. But the pretty Sea Slipper was

Once more we are upon the sea. Go down Eve, and ‘

as soon as the sun is up I will follow thee."

In the main cabin lay the form of Morris Graeme
upon a pallet. His face was deadlhy , and a
scar was pon his temple, from w lo the fins]:
blood ooze , but was constantly wiiped away b the
hand of the lad, “Little Belt, ‘ w 0 had kue t for
hours by his side, watching every breath and sign
of retaining consciousness. He seemed to be sleep-

eav .
At lengt’h the fading gleam of the lamp was on

shone by the morning which gradually filled thecabi: -

withli ht and, as if there had been some in 'st ‘in
union getween sensibility and 15 M, a avgiab‘i:
change in the faceof the woundc man was visible.
The deadly marble aspect softened and assumed a
faint one 0 life and the strong heavi of the chest
became subdu an morer -nlar. '1‘ e of re-
turning animation were watc ied with the most in.
tense anxiety and solicitude by the led; and
at gangh as a bright beam of the rising
up n e
cabin, he st rred and opened his eyes. the uttered
an exclamation of 0y so deep and fervent, that it was
gown there existe between them some'mystcrious
nd of union; perhaps, however, the interest was
all on one side. , This idea was strengthened b the
glance which Morris Graeme turned toward h m; it
was one of doubtful recognition and wholly without
the emotion that might have been anticipated‘from
the conduct of the other. The exclamation of the
lad drew Carleton to the cabin, where on entering

r to hisjoyfui surprise, he met the intelligent look of

hisll'i'eﬁitenant ﬁxed on him. ”
o gods be praised, Morris. be said to]:

I thought you were valid for the his

w on
, sun hushed ’
-light and was reﬂected throng outtlic‘

pm-

The S9? Slip??? -

 
..__.. H.  .A , "7,

 
under sea. 1am rejoiced to see you have come to. I out a witness. In the shadow of the stairs or com-

You were lucky not to have been killed, and you

have come off without breaking but two bones, 3

which I have set. It will keep you on your back,
erha s, till. we get to the West Indies, whither the
‘ a SIR r is nowsteering."

In a tie while Morris was able to recall the past
and to listen to the recital of his rescue and also
hear of Carleton’s plans for the future. He made no
remark when informed of the death and burial of
the father and daughter, and by the expression of
his features evident y wished no further allusion to
the sub ect. Days passed on, and with the alterna-
tion of air winds. calms and storms, the Sea Slipper
held on her course to the West Indies where were to
be found material in plenty from which Carleton in-
tended to complete his crew. Morris’s in uries ren-
dered it necessary for him to remain a cat con-
stantly on deck, although Red Fred in a measure
relieved him from duty in the larboard watch. They
had been at sea three weeks, and yet Morris remained
an invalid in the cabin, occasionall being taking on
deck for the air. The lad “ Little elt,” so called by
the men, on account of his small waist, was constant
and assiduous in his attention upon him. Eve also
was left much with him ; and he receiVed all her atten-
tion with a grateful look and tenderness of voice, that
showed how strongly passion for the beautiful crea-
ture was working in his bosom. He sat up or re
clined most of the day u u an ottoman and she read
to him or they pla e chess or line gammou to-

ether. This sitting or hours eye to eye, with hand
n contact with hand, is a dangerous position for an
enamored man. Morris Graeme drank in love with
his e es until his brain and heart were both intoxi-
ca This convalwcence was to him a passage in
the hours of paradise. She could not be insensible
to the impression her presence made upon him. He
betrayed it in every look and in all his manner. He
took no pains to conceal his feelings from her. Carle-
ton was not only much on deck, but had grown more
and more cold from day to day. Blanche ‘
was takin Eve‘s place in his thoughts, and he only
thought 0 her to devise some means of getting rid
of her in quiet. He had of late discovere Graeme’s
passion for her, and in his heart rejoiced, hoping
hat she might be enticed and fall I Was she then
Sowing false to Carleton ere she knew he was false
her? Let the result tell. She liked his society for
it was a relief from the coldness and neglect of
Carleton.
Morris was readin from the ﬁrst Act of Richard III.
Gmsrm—Iook, 0w this ring encompasseth my

ﬁnger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my r heart.
v Weﬁrhiboth of them, for both 0 them are
no.
And if thy poor, devoted servant may
But beg one favor at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost conﬁrm his happiness forever.

Amm—Whatis it?

Monius Gama—[seizing Eve’s hand and kneelinﬁJ
“Sweet Eve, let me put this guestion of La
Ann‘s into th mouth, and m sel answer it inste
of Gloster. his is the favor would ask ofthee. I
beseech ou listen patiently and give me one ray of
hose. ince the first hour I saw thee I have loved
an in my heart worshiped thee. Nay, do not
struggle to release your hand. Have pity on me, for
without thy love I am. indeed. most wretched.
Carleton loves thee not. Each look and act of his
shows that thou art hateful to him. Nay, more. He
love: another!"

“ Dost thou speak truly, and from thine own
knowlodge,’ Morris Graeme?“ she demanded in a
tone that made him start. I

“I do. sweet Eve. The lady is veryl fair; but in
grace and beaut hath no compare wit thee."

“I heed not hy compliments," cried Eve with
emotion. “ Tell me her name?”

“ Blanche Hillary."

“ Has he met her often?“

“No—but his passion for her is as the springs of
, his own life.” '

“ I knew it—I—I—Morris Graeme, swear to me that
thou tenest me truly; for this thing must be con-
firmed by an oath. are my heart receive it all.”

“I swear it,” he said, now feelin conﬁdent that
convinced of Carleton’s unfaithf ness, she would
throw herself into his arms. She stood for a mo-
ment lost and absent in thought. He took her
hand, and would have sed his arm about her
waist. The act recalled er to herself. She shrunk
from him with a look of womanly dignity, as be-
came a true wife. and said:

“ Thou dost mistake me, Morris Grmme. Carleton
may not love me but to me he is still dear."

“Nay, ’tis madness. Eve, to love when thou art
scorned. To reject the true heart I offer thee, for
the cold neglect of one who spurns thy love. If thou
wilt be mine, I will surround thee with every lux-

H
ur‘YTalk not to me, Morris Gnome," she said com-
mandineg pacing to and fro the cabin; “ I am not
thinking of thee or thy hopeless passion."
“Hopeless, Eve?” he said, attempting to take her

d.

“Ever! I am not whom you think me. Oh God!
that he should subject me to the degrading addresses
of man—nay of eve man. 0h, Carleton,
Carleton! thou hast drugg my cup with a bitter,
hitttii; draught!“

‘ ve

“Stand by, sir, and disturb me not“ If, I have,
following charity and kindness in nursmg by thee,
overstep , my modesty, and so given thee excuse

.forthis cause, then am I grieved, and severely
indge myself therefor. Morris Gimme, I cannot
mum to on."

“Crue Eve." .

“Sir, hast thou not heard me?" ,

He recoiledoa pace at the stern and virtuous dig-
nity with which'her voice, look and manner were
clothed by her indignant emotion, and in silence

gazed upon her. He knew she had loved Carleton
but he was not pre for such an exhibition of
faithfulness. when 6 no longer cared for her. His
passion was only increased by her lofty conduct,
and in his heart he resolved to win her, even with
the life of Carleton. Eve now retired to her state-
roomin a painful conﬂict of feelings and Morris
reclining, as if still very weakuion t e ottoman,
mused upon what had occurred. e was not alone,
however, nor had the scene just drawn been with-

, est; it was the lad, Lit

 
panionway stood a ﬁgure half revealed, watching
the progress of Graeme‘s passion with eager inter-

le Belt. His dark eyes
gleamed like coals of ﬁre, and his brows were knit

gether as he listened to his declaration of love.’

He more than once thrust himself so far forward,
in his eﬁemess that persons le engaged than
Eve and orris Graeme would have discovered his
presence. Once, when Graeme would have clasped

or waist, his hand was upon a knife in his belt,
and be half drew it forth, and looked for a mo-
ment, as if about to spring upon him and bury it in
his heart.

While musinghu on the past scene, and deliber-
ating upon a -couceived plan of taking the
schooner from Carleton and forcing Eve to his love,
he felt a hand laid nervously u n his arm; he
turned and beheld the lad by his 8 do.

“ What would you, boy?“

“ Revenge!" came from the pale lips of the lad in
slow deep, startlin tone.

“ 0? what art t ou Y“ cried Graeme, starting up
and azin in his face. ,v

“ ne w om thou hast sworn to love and to love
only; and who, trusting to thee, has found thee
false. I am she whom when thou wert wea of
me thou didst force to wed another. I have w ted
my hour of revenge, and it has come! Thy hour of
retribution had not come when thy mangled corpse
should have found a grave in the sea; and I knew
thou wouldst not die then—for thou diest only by my
hand! I have loved thee, Morris—I have degraded
myself for love of thee. Knowing I could never
be your bride, I gave thee my virgin heart, and was
happy in being thy mistress! But thou didst soon
tire of a treasure too easily won! I have loved and
hated thee by turns since thou didst force me to
marr th knave Frederick. I have thrice since
had t y 1i 8 in my hands, and et love turned aside
my hand! I have we t over t co in thy Illness here
w en thou knewest i not, and loved thee without
rebuke. Yet I was tempted each day to ison
thy food, but still love let thee live. But I 0 I57 hate
ngfw! ,I have witnessed thy passion for Car eton's
w oh ’

“His wife!” exclaimed Morris, who had been
listening and gazing u on her like one in a dream.

“Yes—his wife. I ave overheard that which as-
sures me of it, thou h he does not acknowl e her.
But with this thou ast no further interest. hate
thee, Morris. Look at me!" and she removed a. wig
of mass tresses and exposed the undisguised fea-
tures of etty Bell. “ Look at me and see the beauty
that has now brought thee to thy death! Now die! ’

“ Hetty. for God‘s sake! you are not—”

His words were lost in the ineffectual strug is in his
great weakness to rise from the ottoman an release
the ressure of her hand u n his throa .

“ have sworn thy dea h, Morris Graeme, and I
have the strength and power of hell in my heart and
hand! In vain thy eﬂorts—Dte /"

The knife, as she muttered the word. descended
into his bosom. The guilty young man fell back
with a fgroan; and having faint murmured the
name 0 that God whose laws 6 had for years
broken and des ised, his unaneled soul took its ht
to his her of ju gment. A shriek from Eve. who
overheard the scene thro h the blinds of the state-
room, brought Carleton low. On entering the
cabin, he beheld the murderess bending over the
body of her victim, and passionately pressing her
lips to his. He did not know that Morris was dead,
and stood with a look of inquiry azing round.

“She has killed him!" cried ve, pointing to the
co se. “ She—Moms is dead!” -

“ es. andrléy my hand,” answered Hetty Bell,
turnin towa. him, and speaking in a tone strange
and of sadness; “I have slain him because I
loved him! Now he is dead, I care not for life, and
I follow him to a world where love hath no rivalry,
and where ’tis not crime to love, if the, hearts are

w

Before the astonished Carleton could arrest her
hand. or comprehend her purpose, she drew the
knife from Morris's breast and plunged it into her
own! ‘She threw herself u n the body of him whom
she had too well and crim nail loved, and with her
head resting upon his bosom, t ere breathed her last.

CHAPTER XX.
run run. oousA'r.

Tim third morning after the tragic scene described
sit/the close of the p ' chapter, the Sea Slipper
was glidin along within a eague of the Cuba coast,
between atanzas and Havana, and running u to
the former port. Carleton was acing the eck,
moody and silent. He had lost a aithful coadjutor
in Morris Grams and the presence of Eve daily more
annoyed him. He would not suﬂer her to walk on
deck with him, and the most of her time was

passed
in her cabin weeping—yet still she loved him with
the same holy and undying constamﬁ. As the
schoonerapproached Havana, with the oro Castle
two leagues distant to leeward, Carleton’s attention
was directed to the maneuvers of a sloopof-wu
under American colors;_ which. after standing in
toward the harbor and Signaling, tacked, and an

to beat seaward aggln, stretchi away to , d-
ward of him, with are alstill 

The sloop-of-warcame own with a owing sheet
and open ports; and the armed schooner was stand-
ing shoreward, across his course on the starboard
tack. Silently and swiftly the Sea, Slip?” apfroach-
ed the sloop-of-war. till within pistol s ot, w en the
latter wore round and ﬁred a broadside.

“Luff a little—now let them have it, my brave
lads,“ at the same instant cried Carleton, ﬁrst to his
he , and then to his men.

The smoke blew away, and Carleton found his
fore-topmast shot on just above the head of the
foreman. and two of his guns unship and render-
ed use . The sloop-of-wai- had 0 11111166
by a shot. and lost her ﬁying-jibboom. The injury
tothe Sea Sh per at such a. moment was irrepar-
able and fa ; before she could be brought to her
course again, or obey-her helm, the 3100 f-war
came down at a sin ping paceinand heaving under
her stern, poured a roadside to her, which raked
her fore and The destruction was terriﬁc!—
half of Carleton‘s men were killed or wounded, and
the rest ﬂed from their guns. The next moment the
sloop-of-war laﬁ her aboard, and Carleton alone with
Red Fred, and vs clinging upon him, defended his

. derly embraced her, and then walk

‘ alone.

quarter-deck. A party from the sloop-of-war now
ured over her starboard gangwaé,‘I and Carleton
ound himself face to face w th rry Ellis. her
commander. After a personal conﬂict between the
two captains, the buccaneer was dlsarmed and
made prisoner upon his own deck. He was soon
afterward taken with Eve on board the sloop-of-war.
As he crossed the gangway his eye fell on Blanche
Hillary, who, pa e and beautiful, rushed up to
Ha and tenderly embraced him, crying:

“ y dearest husband, thank God you have return~
ed in safety."

“ Her husband! Blanche is he tlh‘y husband?"
sternly demanded the bound pirate c of.

“The lady is my wife, sir buccaneer," said Harry
with a look of surprise; “ dost thou obJect? if so, be
speedy with th words; for by mine honor, you will
have short s and a strong rope."

“Nay, then I have no further word to say," he
said, with a look dark and gloomy as his own stern
nature; “lead on to my death. Eve, there stands
the woman who taught me how to love, and that I
loved not thee.”

Eve turned upon Blanche her large, earnest eyes,
then advancing to her, said:

“ Lady, I forgive thee, though thou art the cause
of all my woe! ‘

“What beauteous bein is this?" exclaimed
Blanche, moved with astonis ment.

“ The pirate chief's bride-his wedded wife, for
now there is no need of concealment, Carleton. He
loved me till he saw thee, and now my heart is
broken for his love of thee. ’

“ Thou art a stran e creature," said Blanche, with
deep interest; “ I r eve that I should have been the
innocent cause of t y sorrow.”

“ Thou dost not love him then?" she asked with an
earnestness, as if life depended on the r]? .

11“ Nohlady; here is my husband, and m alone do
ove.

“ Thanks, thanks—thou hast kept me from hating,
nay, cursing thee! Carleton, I fo ve thee for lov-
ing one so beautiful and so good. ut ah, these are
the of death! Sir, let me die with him!" she
cried, eeling at Captain Ellie's feet and clasping
his knees. '

“N , thou art not guilty with tlliy wretched hus-
band. thy face speaks truth; his e is forfeited by
his crimes. Remove her: and, Blanche, see that she
does no mischief to herself, poor child! As for thee,
thou red-handed man of crime. prepare to die by
to-morrow’s sunrise! There goes th schooner to
pieces, an emblem of its master’s com fate." He
pointed, as he spoke, to the Sea Slip 1-, which at

hat moment blew up with a te ’ c explosion.
Carleton was led below in irons, f: llowed by the
twelve survivi men of his crew, , alone
having esca. y swimming to the land.

It was in dnight. Carleton lay in the wardroom
u n a carriage, to which he was chained. The sloop-
o -wa.r was becalmed off the Moro, which through
the port he could discern in the moonlight. He was
reﬂec u on the past without remorse and contem-
plating ea hwithout fear. “Pass!” said the sentinel
at his door, in a stern tone. He looked up at the
voice, and by the faint lantern hug from a beam
above, herec Eve. Heturn awayhishead,
and seemed not to have seen her enter.

“Edward,” and her soft hand was laid on his arm.

“ What would you herei" be roughly inquired.

“The lady you love—Blanche—has at my earnest
entreat aided the captain to permit me to visit
you. e tomorrow at sunrise you die."

“ Wouldst thou mock me with tellin me of it?”

“No, dear Edward; I have come to 11 thee I love
thee at this dark houras I have ever loved thee; that
thou art. 21121-3? chained and condemned to die, and
hated of 'nd—t t thou art still as dear to my
heart as when in girl ood I first surrendered it to
thee. Be comforted and hope for a better life."

“Eve, your love stren ensme—I bless thee for
it' but 0 a better life I vs no he .“

Hour after hour she sat by ride till the
dawn broke. The secret'effecta in Carleton-1‘s heart
of those hours of 1pm or and el uent teachi are
known on] to t e cher of sorts. The our
came for s execution. When Eve left him he ten-
ed calm tgthe
e ore-

spot to which he was led. He looked up to
tions for

and saw none of the usual pro
death swinging there; his eye then fe on a ﬁle of
marines drawn ups) and he was told that his men
would be taken in Havana and executed, but he
was to be shot.

“Thy wife has begﬁg this lenity for thee," said
Ca tain Ellis. At intelligence his dark eye
b ghtened and his hearing and look becameproud-
er. He loo ed round to meet Eve’s eye, and saw
her and smiled upon her.~ She sprung forward
threw herself upon his neck, and w
strap}? calmness: ‘

” ward, has: up; I will not‘be long separated
from thee. Remember-thy mouse to commit thy
soul to God, in Christ in thy t moment 1” ~

The moment came, and the Youn buooaneer
chief was led» to a stage erected on t 9 how, and
there was unironed and blindfolded. There was a
deep silence for a momentnas he stood there left

moved, his face was u ed a
moment, as if prayer, and he placed his
his breast at the . One simultaneous dis-
ch e of musket , uprising high above which was
he a wild, pie g shriek and Edward, Carleton
fell dead upon the stage, his bosom lei-cod lg:
dozen balls. There were two spirits re eased at t

disc . e was raised from the doc

I fallen with a wild shriek I: he fell,
and 101mm Wadi-minim  f the

to our . 0
career of the Sea Slipper. If the par!!!) of it has
made any one better or impala, strengthened the
love of morality and order socie . Md Shown
the evil co uences of vice and immorality, the
aim of the an or will be attained.

mm mm.

 
' BEADLE’S DIME LIBRARY.

... ...................... .. 100
. A new team every week.
BEADLE, & ADAMS. Publishers. 98Williain It, NZY

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