though beauty in dress is very desirable, yet its object being to give enjoyment, no painful sacrifice should be made for it, as such a sacrifice would defeat its own object even as regards the spectators; for anything painful is distressing to see, and the least suspicion of painful expenditure in so trifling a cause destroys any pleasure which could be given by the sight of a beautiful dress. In fact, if beauty were, as it should be, the great object in dress, the inexpediency of all distressing sacrifices to obtain it would, we believe, be at once and universally felt. It is because the tyrant Custom, not the gentle queen, Beauty, rules, that these sacrifices are extorted. Sacrifices of personal ease are not the only distressing sacrifices that are made for the sake of custom. Painful sacrifices of

money and of time are often made for the sake of appearances in dress, specially by those who, having fallen from ease into comparative poverty, are still desirous to conform to the customs of the class to which they originally belonged. As there must always be many whose means are disproportioned to their natural position in society, it is very desirable that such should not be burdened with expensive customs under pain of losing their social standing.

Inexpensive fashions would have the advantage of relieving such people, but then much beauty would be sacrificed; for if plainness were the fashion even the richest would conform to it, and the richness of material and the delicacy of colour, which they can well afford, are sources of real beauty. But the increase of liberty, which we have before advocated on other grounds, would relieve the poor without cramping the rich. There is great variety in the natural inclinations and tastes of individuals; with greater liberty, the variety springing from this cause would be sufficient to hide that caused by difference in riches. Some people have a natural instinct for beauty in their dress; let such exercise their taste and employ a portion of their wealth in arraying themselves in really beautiful clothes, and let those for whom such things have no attraction have liberty to dress in a plainer and less expensive style; but these should not despise the others, for they should remember that a power of taking interest in small things does not necessarily indicate frivolity or weakness of mind, but is, in women especially, to be counted a useful and pleasant quality. Neither should they feel any jealousy of them; nothing, in fact, can be more unreasonable than for one to be dissatisfied that what he has not tried to obtain should be enjoyed by others who have tried to obtain it; he who enjoys immunity from trouble and unnecessary expense in the matters of dress, should not grudge success, as to beauty, to others; they give money and attention which it would annoy him to give, and he might have the inexpensive and more luxurious pleasure of looking at them, if only he would consider it as such. But in the present state of things, when thought and expense in dress are generally in proportion to conformity to custom, it is more often the other party who feel a degree of spite against those who, by their reasonable resistance of the more extravagant demands of Fashion, cast a silent reproach on their own senseless worship of her. If they followed Beauty instead of Fashion, they would feel so sure of their ground as to be quite tolerant of those who did otherwise.

296

AN ADVENTURE AMONG PIRATES IN THE PACIFIC.

BY BARRINGTON Beaver.

I HAD been roaming, in company with my friend Trevor and my faithful dog Ready, here and there through different parts of America, first through the Southern States, then across the Gulf of Mexico and into Texas, next up the Mississippi, and finally over the Rocky Mountains into British Columbia, till we finally found ourselves approaching St. Francisco, in California. I had had several adventures before Trevor joined me. Two occurred on the Mississippi, where I had picked out of the water an English lad, Peter Stubble, who became my most faithful follower; and I had also saved the life of a runaway negro, Marcus by name. This was soon after I had disembarked from England at New Orleans. Some time afterwards, when on my passage across the gulf, the vessel was captured by a set of ruffians, who murdered most of those on board. I should have shared the fate of the rest but for the interference of that very negro. Marcus, by some means or other, had associated himself with them-very much against his will, he assured me, and I believe he spoke the truth. I had no reason, at all events, to find fault with him. I could only urge him to quit the disreputable company in which I found him as soon as possible, and he promised me that he would do so. The man had really many very fine qualities, but he was branded as a slave, a fugitive slave, and the hand of every white man was against him. It was but natural that his hand should have been against the whole race of his oppressors.

The most eccentric of our companions in our long journey across British North America was a Mr. Habakkuk Gaby, a thorough Yankee, who seemed to be wandering through the world seeking his fortune, and, though often tossed strangely about, always alighting on his legs. We thought that we had seen the last of him at Victoria, but as we were leaving that place he came on board the steamer, and expressed his intention of accompanying us to California. At last we found our. selves approaching St. Francisco, the Queen of the Pacific. It is enough to say that the harbour is a magnificent one as soon as the Golden Gate (the name given to the mouth of the river) is passed, and that the city is huge, composed of buildings of all sizes, from the imposing stone or brick edifice to the humble shanty. The hotels are enormous, and the jewellers' shops especially are as handsome as any in London or Paris: while the population is really composed of the inhabitants of all countries in the world. We visited Sacramento and the diggings. The gold at the latter is chiefly obtained by crushing quartz, and numerous companies with powerful machinery are engaged in the business.

Trevor and I had soon seen enough of the Golden City, and wishing to proceed on our little tour, engaged a passage on board a brig, the Banana, bound on a trading voyage to the Sandwich Islands, and from thence on to Japan and China. As I left the office of the agent

to whom the Banana was consigned, I found a party of seamen lounging about in front of the door, as seamen of all nations are accustomed to do. These were a curiously mixed set, not only of all nations, but of all colours and tints. There were scarcely two alike. Among them were several negroes. I saw one of them, a fine sailorlike-looking fellow, start as he saw me. I looked again, and had little doubt that the man I saw before me was the runaway slave, Marcus. Yet, though he eyed me as some of his companions were doing, not by another glance or sign did he seem to recognise me. He cast also the same indifferent look at Peter and Ready, who followed at my heels. I stopped for a moment for Trevor, who wished to obtain some additional information about the brig, so that I had time to examine the physiognomy of the black man narrowly. Every feature was that of the countenance of Marcus. So convinced was I of this, that I was on the point of going up to speak to him, when I reflected that he might possibly have some good reason for not recognising me, as it was not likely that he should have forgotten me and Peter and the dog. As I walked on slowly after Trevor rejoined me, I looked back, and saw the black enter the ship-agent's office. Again looking back, after some time, I saw him following us at a distance, and evidently wishing that it should not be seen that he was so doing. He watched us into our hotel, and then disappeared. Some stars of the first magnitude were performing at the opera-house, and we went to hear them. On our return home, as we had nearly reached our hotel, and were passing a dark archway, I felt my arm seized, and a voice whispered, "Stop!" I thought that I was about to be robbed, and expected to have a knife stuck into me, so did Trevor, when the voice said, "I am a friend. Listen. You do not know me, but I know you, and remember that I owe you a deep debt of gratitude, never fully to be repaid. I am Marcus-once the slave-I must be brief. You are about to sail in the Banana. A number of rich miners and others, whose health requires recruiting, are about to proceed in her to the Sandwich Islands. She has also, it is well known, a rich freight. She has been marked for destruction. A band of desperate men, on board a fast vessel, purpose following her. Two of them will be sent to ship on board as part of the crew, so that she has not a chance of escape. Take my advice-do not go by her. Sacrifice your passage money. Any loss will be better than venturing to sea in that craft. Farewell, Mr. Beaver; I must not detain you, nor must I stay longer here. I owe you much. I am thankful that I have had again an opportunity of serving you. I have run a great risk to serve you, and would willingly run a greater. We may never meet again, but believe that I earnestly desire your safety. I will not say I pray for it; for such a wretch as I am cannot pray: if I could, my prayers would turn to curses. Farewell, farewell!"

The last words were said in a tone of deep feeling. Before I could even answer, he had disappeared. I said nothing to Trevor before we got to our hotel. I then told him all I had heard, describing how I had met Marcus, and the opinion I had formed of him. We neither of us, however, were inclined to give up our intention of proceeding by the Banana. She was a fine fast brig, carried four guns, and

was likely to give a good account of any vessel which might attack her.

Forewarned, forearmed. I proposed that we should tell the captain as soon as we got to sea, and he would accordingly shape his course so as to elude any vessel which might leave St. Francisco in chase. Trevor agreed with me, and suggested that we should go on board the next morning, and ascertain if the brig was well supplied with small arms and ammunition, as well as with guns, and if not to hint to the captain the importance of providing them. The next day we carried our intentions into execution. We found Captain Firebrace, the master of the Banana, just the sort of man we could have wished-a bold, daring fellow, who would stand no nonsense with his own crew or with strangers. I suggested that as he would have a quantity of gold on board, besides a valuable cargo in other respects, that it would be wise to be prepared to resist an attack of pirates.

"Step down below," he answered, and, going into the cabin, he showed us a rack full of muskets, while the bulkhead was adorned with pistols and cutlasses. "I have no want of ammunition either," he observed. "If the fellows on board will use these things properly, we may give a good account of any craft which may dare to attack us," he said quietly. "However, I don't believe much in the stories which are afloat about pirates and such like gentlemen."

Trevor and I agreed that in trying to avoid one danger we might fall into another, and that it would be folly to give up our voyage in so fine a vessel, with so good a captain, merely on account of the vague warning I had received from the negro. We accordingly, two days afterwards, went on board the Banana. Her anchor was hove short, and her topsails loosed. The shore boats had left her side, and the anchor was about to be tripped, when I observed a boat pulling off rapidly toward us. The captain delayed giving the final order, as he saw through his glass that the new-comer was probably a passenger. As he drew near I recognised the features of our friend of the wheelbarrow, Mr. Habakkuk Gaby. He was soon on board, and at once settled with the captain for his passage. There was not much room for him, but he said that he was accustomed to rough it, and wouldn't mind being put up anywhere. He was unusually well dressed, though his luggage was not extensive, as it consisted of a very small portmanteau and somewhat large hatbox, on which he was sitting in the boat when he came alongside. His pockets, however, were capacious, and probably contained other articles of costume. He handed up the hatbox himself on deck, and I observed that he never for a moment lost sight of it. He immediately after his arrangements were concluded came up to me and Trevor, and shook hands warmly. We naturally inquired what was taking him to the Sandwich Islands.

"Why, I guess that the people down in these parts are rather too 'cute for a poor Yankee like myself to thrive, and, so as I've a mind to see the world, I thought that I'd just go and lend a hand to the King and Queen of Hawaii, and show them how to govern their kingdom. I'm a thorough republican, but I don't object to let other people have kings and queens if it pleases their fancy. You Britishers may

have your queen for what I care, but I prefer being a citizen of the greatest, the freest, the most glorious republic the world has ever known."

Mr. Gaby, having thus delivered himself, spat forth a stream of tobacco-juice over the till lately snowy deck.

I expected that we should immediately have weighed anchor, but I heard the captain say, "I wish those fresh hands would be sharp in coming off. They promised last night, when I engaged them, that they would be on board by this hour." I found on inquiry that two of the crew had deserted the previous day, and that he had engaged two prime seamen who had offered themselves to supply their places. A gun was now fired, to hasten the men. It had the desired effect, and a boat, rather smarter than an ordinary merchantman's boat, brought them off. The men who formed her crew eyed the brig narrowly, and, having put the two seamen on board, pulled round her before they took their departure. The instant they were on board the anchor was hove up, the topsails sheeted home, and the brig stood down the river towards the Golden Gate. I had observed that one of the men was a negro. When he stepped on board, his face was turned away from me, and it happened that it was not till we were out at sea did he pass near me. I at once recognised him as Marcus. Why had he come? I had little doubt that it was to help us if he could; but how that was to be done was the question. Though he had to pass close to me, he looked perfectly unconscious of my presence. Calling Stubble, I remarked to him aside:

"That man looks very like Marcus, but do not speak to him or appear as if you recognised him."

I thought that there was no use saying anything to the captain. I felt sure that Marcus had come on board to benefit us in some way or other; so I determined to let events take their course. Meantime I kept my telescope occasionally turned towards the shore we had left, and before long I observed a schooner pass through the Golden Gate. She was a large vessel, with an unusually wide spread of very white canvas. There had been several large schooners in the harbour when we left, mostly under the flags of the different South American States. I had cast my eye round, and none of them appeared to be making any preparations for sailing. This might be considered a suspicious circumstance.

I pointed the schooner out to Captain Firebrace. He took a steady look at her. "She

"Yes, she is certainly a rakish-looking craft," he observed. may or may not be honest. If she follows us, we'll alter our course after nightfall, and I doubt if she will catch us up before that time."

Though I did not, for one moment, regret having come on board the Banana, I must own that I watched the stranger rather anxiously. Supposing she did overtake us, though we had guns and arms enough, how far could we trust to this mixed crew to use them? Who was Marcus's companion? He might play us some trick, corrupt the rest of the crew, or injure our guns, or damp the powder. I advised the captain to keep an eye on him. About a couple of hours before nightfall I took another look at the stranger. She was standing after

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