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with him; and before it was two hours old, Gerard Lumby heard it. He had shown grief once, and was on his guard now, and his Spartan heart carried him away alone to the rocky slope of Welbeck Head. To die loveless the woman he had loved. If the man had loved her and been faithful to her, he could have borne to see her happy. As he thought this, and grief and hatred inextinguishable tore his heart, he sat upon a gray boulder, so still that he might have seemed a statue, in spite of the storm within. And behind him a pall as black as Death climbed up the western heaven, and blotted out the sun, and touched the zenith, and spread out and down until it draped the sky from west to east and from north to south. There was no sign of wind; but the vast sheet of cloud crept onward as if by its own volition, throwing forward great ragged feelers of the colour of red-hot copper. By-and-by this hue, as of heated metal, spread over all the doleful under-sky, and the face of the heavens was livid, as though some gigantic fury were held back there by the strong spirit of a god. Then, without further warning, before one drop of rain had fallen, or one sigh of wind had spoken to the ear, a flash of lightning fell, and close upon it came a roar so near, so sudden and so terrible, that he leaped to his feet, and whilst it lasted felt his own passions stricken deaf and dumb and blind. The rain lashed him like a whip, and the wind released, swept out of the western darkness with gusts against which he felt it difficult to stand. The lightning and the thunder seemed one, they came so close together; and the echoes of the first tremendous peal were still buffeting windily from rock to rock, when another came upon them, and smote their mockeries dead with overwhelming sound; and again the ferocious echoing laughter of the hills broke out, and again the thunder slew it, and again it rose, till the clamour seemed scarcely less of earth than heaven. And amidst all this, his passions rose from stupor, and leaped to madness, and for once in a life the forces of nature seemed strained to find voice for a human soul.

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counsel he heeded, and seemed to lift him on its wing, and yet with equal power to guide the other's footsteps.

Tempest-borne, pursuer and pursued fled up ward, They were far past the Hollow, which lay below them on the right of their course, and from the first till now they had taken a precipitate road, a mere sheep-track, shunned by the feet of men. The subtle fluid showed the broad bare shoulder of the headland, and they were within three hundred yards of the sheer edge. Here for a second the hunted figure paused, and Gerard seeing this, paused also. In that second, he knew his purpose for the first time, and consciously surveyed it. Though they fell together, he would cast this villain over the precipice. He kept his eyes on the spot where he had last seen his quarry, until the lightning cast him out of the dark again, and then he saw that he was moving slowly onward. Gerard followed slowly, and they kept their distance still. And now the storm began to decrease in violence, and as he reached the summit of the Head, the pursuer saw that all along the western sea-line there was a yellow gleam of light, and that the clouds had broken there in scattered rags of purple, which trailed over a sky of tarnished gold. He saw, too, that this rift of gold was growing larger, and that in a little while the storm would cease almost as suddenly as it had fallen, Here, on the bare scalp of the headland, there was a gruesome twilight cast from the breach in the western clouds, and the lightning showed paler in it than it had done below, against the darkness of the higher skies.

He saw these things as one who did not see them, and all his thought was of the man ahead and how to stalk him. To go on at a rush might be fatal to his purpose; for he knew, from many a trial in boyhood and youth, that Val Strange was fleeter of foot than he, and could out-distance and outlast him. So, with a cold deadliness of intent, as absorbing as the heat and passion of pursuit had been, he chose his ground, and crept from boulder to boulder, nearer and nearer. The rain had ceased to fall, and only now and again the lightning hung out its shuddering flame. The thunder rumbled miles and miles behind. The slower pace, the caution of the trail, and the cessation of the tempest, seemed to fit his mood anew, as completely as the wild chase and the tumult within had kept the tumult without in unison. He was within half a score of yards now from his quarry, and he crawled a little forward and coiled himself for a spring, when a wild voice broke on the late-born stillness.

As he stood thus, resigned in unmeasured inward tempest to the storm, he saw on a sudden that he was not alone upon the headland; and in the next flash that split the gloom and held the landscape quivering whilst he might have counted three, he knew the figure of the man he hated. Val Strange was there, scarce fifty yards away, flying upwards along the broken path. Not knowing why he followed, Gerard sprang after him. It was as yet no more than evening; but the storm had cast a shadow which anticipated 'Good-bye all!' it cried. "Good-bye to the night, and the lightning was needed to show the world I did the devil's work in. Good-bye to way. In the deep gloom which followed every the trusting friend I stabbed to the heart. God flash, he lost the flying figure; but with each bless him. O Gerard, Gerard! And oh, my love, succeeding flash it seemed cast out of night again, my love!' and the wild voice quavered down no nearer and no further than before. Strain into sobs and murmured on brokenly, 'And as he would, he could not decrease the distance the little baby four hours old. Good-bye. You which separated them by a single yard, He won't know how your father died. They won't never paused in the intensity in which every think the cold-hearted villain who played his fibre of soul and body was set upon the chase, friend so false, had the heart to die like this; or to think of a reason for his enemy's presence the heart to break as mine is broken. Constance ! there. There was no thought within him apart maybe God will be good, and let me see you from those the tempest spoke for him of madness happy, as you never could have been in this and revenge. When he fell, as he did often, he world.' The voice pealed out again madly, 'Goodfelt no shock or pain. The storm gave the sole bye-good-bye-good-bye, all! and a staggering

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step scattered the loose pebbles. Not six yards from the edge of the precipice lay a murderous figure coiled for a spring, and when the next staggering step came on, the spring was made. The suicide was caught in a grip of steel, and a voice cried out: 'Not that way, Val! Not that way! And they were weeping wildly in each other's arms.

GAELIC PROVERBS.

TELL me the proverbs of a people, and I will tell you what manner of people they be.' These little pointed sayings, in which a single flash of wit strikes fire from the gathered experience of past generations, give us a wonderful insight into the interior life of a nation. Reversing Burns's lines, we seem to be endowed with the gift of seeing our neighbours as they appear to themselves. In proverbs and familiar sayings, we have pictures of household manners and customs drawn by the people themselves, in perfect simplicity and unconsciousness; we catch glimpses of the farm, the chase; or, in more cynical mood, some little failing or weakness is revealed to us with quiet humour. And all this tells us more than whole volumes of travel, about the thoughts and feelings which lead to action, and the habits which are wont to be formed under these influences.

The collection of Gaelic Proverbs edited by Sheriff Nicolson, and published by Maclachlan and Stewart, of Edinburgh, is of singular interest, inasmuch as it opens up an almost unknown field of research, and preserves the memory of a state of things now past, or rapidly passing away. Where written records are few, as is the case among the Highlanders, proverbial lore seems to gain an added value. The book is based upon a collection published in 1785, which has hitherto been the only work of the kind in existence. It was made by the Rev. Donald Macintosh, who describes himself in his will as 'a priest of the old Scots Episcopal Church, and last of the non-jurant clergy of Scotland.' The book before us is carefully edited, with notes and illustrations drawn from varied sources; and the writer has a warm appreciation of the fine points in the Celtic character. The sayings are collated with those of other nations, which adds much to the interest of the subject. We find, as we might expect, a strong family resemblance between the proverbs of all the Celtic nations. Most of the inore characteristic sayings are to be found in an Irish dress; and there are also parallels from the Welsh, Manx, and Breton languages. The Irishman's wit is on his tongue, but the Gael is wise after the time,' is a true distinction; and it is supplemented by the Manx: The Manxman is never wise till the day after the fair.' But what is very curious is, that we meet with many old familiar friends, apparently quite at home in their new surroundings. For instance, the saying, 'Every man knows best where his shoe hurts him,' is said to be as old as Plutarch; and every great European nation-even the Celt with his shoes of hide, and light step on the heather-has adopted the same form in speaking of a secret trouble.

Mr Nicolson is inclined to trace back the

origin of such sayings as have equivalents in Lowland Scotch, to the days before the reign of Malcolm Canmore, when some one or other form of Gaelic was probably the language of the whole of Scotland, with the exception of the Lothians. But then the Lowland Scotch is a direct representative of the old Angles, who held the Lothians during the period referred to, and has a perfect right to the paternity of its own proverbs. Then, again, there are those sayings which have parallels in the proverbs of continental nations. Doubtless, as Mr Nicolson suggests, Scotland had no want of communication with the continent of Europe, and the old French alliance has left distinct marks in this country. Many priests also were foreigners; and some of the young chieftains may have gone to the universities of Holland or Italy for their education. Still, this explanation seems inadequate in many cases; and looking to the large amount of proverbial wisdom' which is common to all the nations of Latin or Teutonic origin, one is inclined to wonder if perhaps the original sayings were popular before the great migrations of our race, just as we find a common inheritance of fairy tales whose birthplace may be traced to the far East. To take two or three instances, pretty much at random: 'Well knows the mouse that the cat's not in the house,' is found in eight other languages; The blind of an eye is king among the blind,' has seven equivalents; Moss grows not on an oft-turned stone,' is found in Greek and Latin and nine other European languages. Under these circumstances, it is difficult to decide to what source we should look for the original root; but if any one could tell us how many of these widespread proverbs are to be found in Sanscrit, or in the modern languages of India, we might have some grounds for forming a theory how they arose.

Again, the experiences of our several lives, though they may differ widely in their surroundings, are curiously alike in essentials; and it may well be that one reason for the similarity of proverbs is, that all mankind have to learn the same lessons, calling the same qualities into play, and that they find the results of their summing up not so very different after all. Such is the following: "There will come in a day what won't in an age.' This is common to modern Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and English. It is an entirely abstract proposition; there is no pictur esqueness of allusion to catch the fancy; it is evidently drawn in each case from the deep wells of experience. In other cases, we meet with some central truth which seems to express the universal conviction of mankind, but which becomes clothed in strong local colouring, varying according to the varying circumstances of the people who give it expression. The proverb about counting one's chickens is transformed, among a race to whom the hillside was more familiar than the poultry-yard, into the caution, 'Don't skin the deer till you get it.' The Lowlanders went to the Highlands for a comparison, 'It's ill taking the breeks off the wild Highlandman;' which becomes peaceable enough in the Gaelic, 'It's ill taking horns from the hornless cow.'

In these proverbs, we are introduced to a people very much the reverse of the popular idea of the fierce and haughty Highlander of days of yore. There is much of the nobleness and generosity

of sentiment befitting a warlike race; but the people themselves are tillers of the soil, owners of Hocks and herds, fishers on the sea. Poor they are, but full of patient cheerfulness, as may be seen in the saying illustrating their belief in the wise balance of things: In spring, when the sheep is lean, the shellfish is fat. The numerous allusions to shellfish show how often the dwellers by the sea-shore were dependent on what they could find there. But in spite of the hardships of their every-day life, they are full of intelligence, with high conceptions of right and duty; they are close observers of nature; and many of their sayings have about them a shrewd and quaint simplicity, which has a flavour all its own.

There is a chivalry of feeling in their ideas of warfare, which is far removed from barbarism. True, there is a grim humour in the following: 'The Lowlander is the shorter from losing his head.' But many proverbs show a true sense of justice and honour, worthy of a knight of old. Here are two Ossianic sayings, both remarkable for their forbearance: Fingal never fought a fight without offering terms; Neither seek nor shun the fight.' This is a noble motto for a sword: 'Draw me not without cause, nor return me without honour.' Again: 'Honour is a tender thing; Honour is nobler than gold.' Many a Highland glen is deserted now where brave men used to dwell; but the old pledge, 'The clans of the Gael, shoulder to shoulder,' still wakens a hearty response from Highland regiments wherever strong arms and stout hearts are needed for the honour of Britain.

What the Mull-man sees, he covets; what the Mull-man covets, the Coll-man steals; and what the Coll-man steals, the Tiree-man hides.'

We naturally expect to find a strong flavour of the sea derived from the Hebrides and the adjacent shores of the mainland; and the proverbs which come to us from this source are among the most racy and original of all. 'No wind ever blew that did not fill some sail,' is an improved form of the familiar, 'It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.' Making needless difficulties is happily described as 'Making a great ocean of a narrow strait.' For a man who piques himself on being always wiser than his neighbours, it is said: 'He knows where the whales breed.' For one who seems fated never to be in luck: When the herring is in the north, Red Malcolm is in the south.' Here is a brave and cheery utterance, peculiarly suggestive of the narrow seas, where the tide is a power not to be lightly set at nought: None ever got tide with him that did not get it against him.' Nor is the wind forgotten: 'I shall go to-morrow, said the king. You shall wait for me, said the wind.' What a world of suggestive tenderness and pathos lies in the following: "There is hope of the man at sea, but none of the man in the churchyard!' To these may be added the following graphic little story. The small Hebridean islands of Ulva and Gometra are divided by a narrow channel, which is passable at low water. On one occasion, when the minister who had gone over to Gometra to preach-intending afterwards to return to Mull-was in the midst of his sermon, he was summarily interrupted by the beadle with the warning: 'Get on, Master John-the channel is filling!'

There are some interesting illustrations of clanship. To whom can I make my complaint and no Clanranald in Moidart?' originally said of the Clanranald who was killed at the battle of Sheriff- We turn with interest to inquire what weather muir, has about it a touching wail of hopelessness. folk-lore may be gathered from this new source, The following gives us a curious glimpse of a state and we find that the testimony of the Gael does of society long since passed away: 'It is not every not differ greatly from that of the other dwellers day that Macintosh holds a court.' Macintosh of in our island. This is very generally found to Monyvaird, Chamberlain to the Earl of Perth, be true: Winter comes not till after New Year, held a regality court at Monyvaird; but it is nor spring till after St Patrick's Day' (March 17). commonly reported that he caused one person to The following shows the usual distrust of a too be hanged each court-day, in order to make him- early spring, and is very gracefully expressed: self famous and to strike terror into the thieves,For every song the mavis sings in February, which severity occasioned the above saying. she'll lament ere spring be over.' Another saying All readers of the Fair Maid of Perth will re- worth quoting is: A month from the first ear member the cry, Another for Hector!' with to the full ear, and a month from the full ear which the heroic old foster-father devoted one to the withered [ripened] ear.' The following after another of his sons to death for their chief. excellent advice to husbandmen shows a remarkThese words were really spoken at the battle of able insight into the true principles of agriculture : Inverkeithing (1652), where Hector Roy M'Lean To feed the land before it get hungry, to give of Duart was killed with hundreds of his clan. it rest before it grow weary, to weed it well The attachment of foster-brothers is most marked: before it get dirty-the marks of a good husbandDear is a kinsman, but the pith of the heart man.' The proverb about 'far-away birds,' and is a foster-brother.' Scarcely less strong is the Campbell's line about the enchanting effects of sense of relationship: All the water in the sea distance, are both paralleled in the saying: 'Blue won't wash out our kinship.' Yet, when we come are the hills that are far from us. The Gael to the various characteristics of the clans described has also a proverb instinct with the breath of by each other, they are almost always unfavour- freedom: able: A M'Lean without boast, a M'Donald house.' without cleverness, a Campbell without pride, are ill to find.' Again: 'M'Laine of Loch Buy, the chieftain of thieves.' The M'Gregors, however, are always mentioned with respect Hills and streams and M'Alpines; but when did the M'Arthurs come?' and again: There never was a clown of the M'Gregors. Some districts also come in for a share of the same bad character:

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Here are two curious proverbs: "It would be something for one man, but it's a small thing for two, as Alexander the Proud said about the world.' And again: 'She is as good at spinning as the Greek woman.' The latter seems to allude to Penelope; and both are interesting (supposing they are not quite modern), as showing that the Highlanders had some knowledge of Greek tales.

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In the autumn there came to the hacienda a handsome young English naval officer-on sickleave, so he said-to whom with ready hospitality we offered the shelter of our roof.

This is also evidenced by the frequent occurrence glorious conquering, settled in the Californian of such names as Hector, Eneas, and Alexander. peninsula; where are indeed to this day the We have never seen any satisfactory explanation original estates in the possession of lineal descendants. Yes! a Spanish American can forgive, As specimens of the quiet yet keen humour in which these proverbs abound, take the follow-though it be against the grain; but he can never In this matter we can neither forgive ing: The cock was very bountiful with the horse's corn; "Tis the less for that, the less nor forget the rascally adventurer who has cast for that, as the wren said when he sipped a a black shadow over our peaceful household. billful out of the sea.' But even as he smiles, the Gael knows that inevitable Fate lies in wait for him; and the consciousness of this is seldom long absent from him. 'One must go where his grave awaits him,' for 'No man can avoid the spot where birth or death is his lot.' And, 'For whom ill is fated, him it strikes.' But in a nobler mood, we have: A man's will is his kingdom; and, "A bad man makes his own destiny; for 'Short-lived is all rule but the rule of God.' And to sum up all, let us quote this beautiful and profound saying: 'Not less in God's sight is the end of the day than the beginning.'

The time will come-and under the influence of universal travel and School Boards it is approaching rapidly-when Gaelic will cease to be a spoken language, and will share the fate of its sisters, the Manx and Cornish. Yet it will always have an interest for antiquaries and philologists; and such collections of its proverbial folk-lore as this before us help to save for the coming generations what would otherwise be probably for ever lost.

THE STORY OF INEZ.

'EASY stages each day up the coast-line of California. Slowly over the steep hills which lay in rank like breakers rolling on the shore; down the other side at a helter-skelter gallop; breakfasting in lonely fishermen's huts, with the sweet surf-music coming to us with the sun through the open door and windows, and dining at rude wayside stations and homelike farmhouses. This was our daily programme; a very pleasant one to carry out.

'Yet the balmy breezes, bringing sometimes spicy perfumes from the pine-clad slopes of the coast-range mountains, and again blowing dreamily from the south-west, failed to call to the cheeks of our sister the bloom that had been there. We idolised our sister, and we do yet, and always shall; and we shall always do everything-in or out of our paths-which will aid in the restoration of her health and happiness.

"The cause, you ask?

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We prelisome, mirthful, and an accomplished

musician, he speedily gained entrance to our simple ways and simple hearts, and was treated as one of ourselves. We did not know then how happy we were; we know now by the contrast. He was soon conspicuous in the vintage festivals, treading the luscious, purple grapes in the great tubs, side by side with the girls of the valley (a privilege they denied my brother José and myself), and always the leader in the gay dances that succeeded. Yet we did not grow jealouswe are only jealous of those we mistrust. We boys of the peacefully happy Sonorada valley still basked in the sweet smiles of the señoritas, though we knew that their sweetest smiles and their sweetest words were reserved for the stranger our friend.

'None of our companions had gained the love of Inez. They dared not speak to her of that, though a score of them had aching hearts and were sinking into chronic melancholy. They would bring in the skins of the grizzly bear and the mountain lion' as proofs of their valour, without exciting in her breast even a temporary admiration for themselves or their achievements. She would only say: "What a pity to kill those poor, harmless beasts!" Then the despairing gallant would mount his waiting mustang and rush madly away. She notably differed from her own flesh and blood. Long years ago, there had been a wreck, and we had saved from it a large learned to speak and read in your tongue, she collection of English books. As soon as she commenced poring over these mysterious attractions. They were 'mysterious' to us, because we could not understand why there could be any better amusement than frolicsome horseback rides over the vine-clad hills and dales of the country around, mirthful dances at the harvest-feast, and rollicking trips in white-winged yachts.

discovered the intimate acquaintance Inez had "Roger Ayrtoun-that was his name quickly with the English language and the authors of his motherland, and we were more than ever 'We say little of that among ourselves, and we mystified at the conspicuous concord there was say less outside; but we clench our fists and tap in their views. We soon learned that she was our revolver-handles meaningly when there seems made happy by Roger's presence, and when he a resemblance in the faces of those we meet spoke of leaving, we endeavoured to dissuade occasionally, to a villain who in designedly blasting him; for was it not our only object to conthe heart's hope of our sister, has made us his tribute to her happiness? He was not behind lifelong enemies. Our ancestors gave us, among and their chats were of the merriest sort in showing a lively pleasure in being with her; other traits-some good, some bad-a vindictive-imaginable, when they sat on the wide veranda ness of spirit that is as tenacious as life itself. fronting the bay, looking out on the brown They could not help it; neither can we. They sails of the fishing-boats. Could he have been came over with Cortez, and at the close of their thinking of her, or of a lady-love far away,

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O thou moon that shinest,'
Argent clear above,

All night long enlighten,
My sweet lady-love!

Might we not induce him to stay with us in the valley, if her happiness depended on it? We owned plenty of fine land, and if he married Inez, we would give him all he needed; besides, her ample dowry. We had no chance to ascertain this, for there came by a special messenger from San Francisco a summons to rejoin his ship immediately; and with a quiet but seemingly sincere farewell, he departed, promising to get an extension of leave and come back at once. And then the light faded out of her eyes, and there was but a sad smile when we spoke of Roger. Months flew quickly, and no tidings came from him whom we now characterised as a base, heartless villain the thief of a precious affection. On going to 'Frisco, I found his ship had sailed for the China station, and I had to come back to the ranche with the tale. She said little-"Oh, Pedro !" and then after a while: "Can it be that he was only trifling with me?" There was no light left in her eyes then, and there were no smiles. She seemed to sink under the weight of her trouble; brain-fever set in, and her frail spirit battled long for mere life. When convalescence came, after weeks of anxious watching and nursing, we came here in pursuance of our physician's orders; and this then is our reason for apparently idling our time away here.'

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Told in a mixture of Spanish and English, which I liberally translate, and in musically passionate tones, accompanied with the fiery gesticulation peculiar to his race, Pedro's tale impressed us considerably. How fondly he would stroke his heavy moustache at the memory of the brighteyed valley señoritas, and what a cold, deadly glitter in his eyes at the mention of the lieutenant. Though the departure of their ancestors from sunny Spain dated back three or four centuries, these boys gave unmistakable evidence of the source of the hot blood with which their veins were filled.

"Were I an insurance man,' whispered my companion, who had been critically scanning Pedro's lithe, sinewy limbs were I an insurance man, I would ask a premium of at least nine-tenths of the whole amount of insurance in assuring that lieutenant's life against casualties;' and I unhesitatingly acquiesced.

Notwithstanding the marks of deep suffering on the sister's face, there was unmistakable evidence of unsullied beauty, and the trio speedily possessed our confidence and sympathy. We, too, were recuperating in the little seaport town.

Several days after this revelation to us, through Pedro, of the origin of her sickness, we were informed that he was to start for the city-San Francisco and judging from his grim manner the object of the trip, we finally discovered that the lieutenant's ship was expected to arrive within a day or two from her cruise. There was something ominous in his mission, and we found, almost unconsciously, ourselves fretting about it as Pedro went forth with a set determination impressed on his swarthy visage, notwithstanding his sister's feeble remonstrances. 1911

Jerkily pacing the floor of the deserted messroom; stooping at times to look through the port-holes, eastward over the watery expanse uttering impatient words and exhibiting various outward signs of discomposure and anxiety-this is the frame of mind possessing Lieutenant Ayrtoun as we examine his well-made form and rather intellectual countenance. His brother-officers having finished dinner, have gone on deck, and he has driven out the cabin-boy, who would clear away the debris, so as to get a chance to have a bit of soliloquy. He has been triumphantly successful in his endeavours, and save the appearance around the door's edge, at very long intervals, of the dish-wiping youngster's head, he is not reminded of the existence, by sight, anyway, of any of his fellow-mortals.

I should have sent my letter to Inez by a special messenger, and not trusted to the dilatory and unsafe mail,' he says.

What if it has never reached her! Still, it must have, To-morrow we reach 'Frisco, and the very next stage will carry me to Sonorada.'

Again he breaks out: Confound it! Why did we not cruise near some port from whence I might have sent information of my whereabouts? Always that odious junk-chasing, with no loot, no prize-money-nothing. One thing I have determined to do; it is this: Inez will marry me, and I'll settle in the valley and live the contented life of a ranchero. I can buy a small ranche, and we will be happy-so happy. After a while we shall travel about. There can be good achieved there in many ways, and it is far better to spend my life doing it than making miserable mathematical calculations and studying the laws of winds and tides.' The sound of the bell beating the hour summons his wandering mind to obvious realities. 'Two bells, sir!' calls out a gruff, hearty voice, adding, 'land in sight!' and Lieutenant Ayrtoun slowly mounts the staircase and surveys the din blue outline of the distant shore.

How unconscious he is of the peculiar reception awaiting him; where he anticipates kisses and the warm handshaking of friends, he will find the sadness of a broken heart and the threatening muzzles of revolvers in the grasp of angry men. And now he is walking the upper-deck of the beautiful ship, and he is looking up at the stars, thinking of the pleasant events of the morrow. And he is revelling in the pure beauty of the stars; and can we doubt that he thinks them the counterpart of the light that has shone and will shine in her eyes when, clasping her in his loving arms, he kisses her anew?

A schooner dashing southward over boisterous, white-capped waves; all her available canvas set, and still they are constantly hoisting sail after sail, plainly of improvised and novel patterns, until the masts bend with their burdens. A bright sun overhead, a stiff breeze; still they are not content. Why is it? Why is it also that the skipper is chuckling over several broad gold pieces he has had lately added to his not overprofuse stock-earnests of more to follow? What can be the object in racing so determinedly to the south 20 F

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There is no cargo, and there are but three passengers-myself, José, and my companion,'

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