Master Humphrey's Clock:

lish Grammar, and turning a murderess of great renown into Mrs. Hannah More—both of which likenesses were admitted by Miss Monflathers, who was at the head of the head Boarding and Day Establishment in the town, and who condescended to take a Private View with eight chosen young ladies, to be quite startling from their extreme correctness. in a night-cap and bed-gown, and without his boots, repreMr. Pitt sented the poet Cowper with perfect exactness; and Mary Queen of Scots in a dark wig, white shirt-collar and male attire, was such a complete image of Lord Byron that the young ladies quite screamed when they saw it. flathers, however, rebuked this enthusiasm, and took occasion Miss Monto reprove Mrs. Jarley for not keeping her collection more select, observing that His Lordship had held certain free opinions quite incompatible with wax-work honors, and adding something about a Dean and Chapter, which Mrs. Jarley did not understand.

Although her duties were sufficiently laborious, Nell found in the lady of the caravan a very kind and considerate person, who had not only a peculiar relish for being comfortable herself, but for making every body about her comfortable also; which latter taste, it may be remarked, is, even in persons who live in much finer places than caravans, a far more rare and uncommon one than the first, and is not by any means its necessary consequence. As her popularity procured her various little fees from the visiters on which her patroness never demanded any toll, and as her grand-father too was well-treated and useful, she had no cause of anxiety in connection with the wax-work, beyond that which sprung from her recollection of Quilp, and her fears that he might one day return and suddenly encounter them.

Quilp indeed was a perpetual nightmare to the child, who was constantly haunted by a vision of his ugly face and stunted figure. She slept, for their better security, in the room where the wax-work figures were, and she never retired to this place at night but she tortured herself-she could not help it-with imagining a resemblance, in some one or other of their death-like faces, to the dwarf, and this fancy would sometimes so gain upon her that she would almost believe he had removed the figure and stood within the clothes. there were so many of them with their great glassy eyesThen and, as they stood one behind the other, all about her bed, they looked so like living creatures, and yet so unlike in their grim stillness and silence, that she had a kind of terror of them for their own sakes, and would often lie watching their dusky figures until she was obliged to rise and light a candle, or go and sit at the open window and feel a companionship in the bright stars. At these times, she would recal the old house and the window at which she used to sit alone; and then she would think of poor Kit and all his kindness, until the tears came into her eyes, and she would weep and smile together.

Often and anxiously, at this silent hour, her thoughts reverted to her grandfather, and she would wonder how much he remembered of their former life, and whether he was ever really mindful of the change in their condition and of their late helplessness and destitution. When they were wandering about, she seldom thought of this, but now she could not help considering what would become of them if he fell sick, or her own strength were to fail her. willing, happy to execute any little task, and glad to be of use; He was very patient and but he was in the same listless state, with no prospect of improvement a mere child-a poor, thoughtless, vacant creature-a harmless, fond old man, susceptible of tender love and regard for her, and pleasant and painful impressions, but alive to nothing more. It made her very sad to know that this was so-so sad to see it that sometimes when he sat idly by, smiling and nodding to her when she looked round, or when he caressed some little child and carried it to and fro, as he was fond of doing by the hour together, perplexed by its simple questions, yet patient under his own infirmity, and seeming almost conscious of it too, and humbled even before the mind of an infant-so sad it made her to see him thus, that she would burst into tears, and, withdrawing into some secret place, fall down upon her knees, and pray that he might be restored.

But the bitterness of her grief was not in beholding him in this condition, when he was at least content and tranquil, nor in her solitary meditations on his altered state, though these were trials for a young heart. Cause for deeper and heavier

sorrow was yet to come.

One evening, a holyday night with them, Nell and her grandfather went out to walk. They had been rather closely con

fined for some days, and the weather being warm, they strolled a long distance. Clear of the town, they took a foot-path which struck through some pleasant fields, judging that it would terminate in the road they quitted and enable them to return that way. It made, however, a much wider circuit until sunset, when they reached the track of which they were than they had supposed, and thus they were tempted onward in search, and stopped to rest.

It had been gradually getting overcast, and now the sky
was dark and lowering, save where the glory of the departing
bers of which gleamed here and there through the black veil,
sun piled up masses of gold and burning fire, decaying em-
moan in hollow murmurs, as the sun went down carrying
and shone redly down upon the earth. The wind began to
glad day elsewhere; and a train of dull clouds coming up
against it, menaced thunder and lightning. Large drops of
onward, others supplied the void they left behind, and spread
rain soon began to fall, and, as the storm-clouds came sailing
over all the sky. Then was heard the low rumbling of dis
ness of an hour seemed to have gathered in an instant.
tant thunder, then the lightning quivered, and then the dark-
Fearful of taking shelter beneath a tree or hedge, the old
man and the child hurried along the high road, hoping to find
which had now burst forth in earnest, and every moment in-
some house in which they could seek a refuge from the storm,
creased in violence. Drenched with the pelting rain, con-
fused by the deafening thunder, and bewildered by the glare
of the forked lighting, they would have passed a solitary house
without being aware of its vicinity, had not a man, who was
standing at the door, called lustily to them to enter.

if you make so little of the chance of being struck blind," he
"Your ears ought to be better than other folks's at any rate,
said, retreating from the door and shading his eyes with his
hands as the jagged lightning came again.
going past for, eh?" he added, as he closed the door and led
the way along a passage to a room behind.
"What were you
Nell replied.
"We did n't see the house, sir, 'till we heard you calling,'

"No wonder," said the man, "with this lightning in one's
dry yourselves a bit. You can call for what you like if you
eyes, by-the-bye. You had better stand by the fire here, and
want any thing. If you do n't want any thing, you 're not
obliged to give an order, do n't be afraid of that.
public house, that 's all. The Valiant Soldier is pretty well
known hereabouts."
This is a

Nell.
"Is this house called the Valiant Soldier, sir?" asked

“I thought every body knew that," replied the landlord.-
Soldier as well as the church catechism? This is the Valiant
"Where have you come from, if you do n't know the Valiant
Soldier by James Groves-Jem Groves-honest Jem Groves,
dry skittle ground. If any man has got any thing to say again
as is a man of unblemished moral character, and has a good
Jem Groves, let him say it to To Jem Groves, and Jem Groves
four pound a side to forty.
can accommodate him with a customer on any terms from

With these words the speaker tapped himself on the waistgized, sparred scientifically at a counterfeit Jem Groves, who coat to intimate that he was the Jem Groves so highly eulothe chimney-piece, and, applying a half-emptied glass of spirits was sparring at society in general from a black frame over and water to his lips, drank Jem Groves's health.

The night being warm, there was a large screen drawn
seemed as if somebody on the other side of this screen had
across the room, for a barrier against the heat of the fire. It
been insinuating doubts of Mr. Groves's prowess, and had
thereby given rise to these egotistical expressions, for Mr
Groves wound up his defiance by giving a loud knock upon it
with his knuckles and pausing for a reply from the other side.

returned, "who would ventur' to cross Jem Groves under his
"There an't many men," said Mr. Groves, no answer being
own roof. There's only one man, I know, that has nerve
enough for that, and that man's not a hundred mile from
here neither. But he's worth a dozen men, and I let him
say of me whatever he likes in consequence-he knows
that."

hoarse voice bade Mr. Groves "hold his noise and light a
In return for this complimentary address, a very gruff,
candle." And the same voice remarked that the same gen-
tleman "need n't waste his breath in brag, for most people
knew pretty well what sort of stuff he was made of."
old man, suddenly interested.
Nell, they 're-they're playing cards," whispered the
"Don't you hear them ?"

66

"No offence, I hope," returned the old man. "Butby G-, sir, there is offence, said the other, interrupting him, "when you intrude yourself upon a couple of gentlemen who are particularly engaged."

"I had no intention to offend," said the old man, looking anxiously at the cards, "I thought that—"

“But you had no right to think, sir," retorted the other. "What the devil has a man at your time of life to do with thinking?

"Now, bully boy," said the stout man, raising his eyes from his cards for the first time, “can't you let him speak?"

The landlord, who had apparently resolved to remain neutral until he knew which side of the question the stout man

Master Humphrey's Clock:

philosophers in appearance, and with no greater show of
passion or excitement than if they had been made of stone.
The storm had raged for full three hours; the lightning had
grown fainter and less frequent; the thunder, from seeming
to roll and break above their heads, had gradually died away
into a deep, hoarse distance; and still the game went on, and
still the anxious child was quite forgotten.

CHAPTER XXX.

At length the play came to an end, and Mr. Isaac List rose the only winner. Mat and the landlord bore their losses with professional fortitude. Isaac pocketed his gains with the air of a man who had quite made up his mind to win, all along, and was neither surprised nor pleased.

Nell's little purse was exhausted; but, although it lay empty by his side, and the other players had now risen from the table, the old man sat poring over the cards, dealing them as they had been dealt before, and turning up the different hands to see what each man would have held if they had still been playing. He was quite absorbed in this occupation, when the child drew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder, telling him it was near midnight.

"See the curse of poverty, Nell," he said, pointing to the packs he had spread out upon the table. "If I could have gone on, a little longer, only a little longer, the luck would have turned on my side. Yes, it's as plain as the marks upon the cards. See here-and there-and here again."

"Put them away," urged the child. "Try to forget them." "Try to forget them!" he rejoined, raising his haggard face to hers, and regarding her with an incredulous stare. "To forget them! How are we ever to grow rich if I forget them?"

The child could only shake her head.

"No, no, Nell," said the old man, patting her cheek, "they must not be forgotten. We must make amends for this as soon as we can. Patience-patience, and we 'll right thee yet, I promise thee. Lose to-day, win to-morrow. nothing can be won without anxiety and care-nothing. Come, And I am ready."

"Do you know what the time is?" said Mr. Groves, who was smoking with his friends. "Past twelve o'clock-" "And a rainy night," added the stout man. "The Valiant Soldier, by James Groves. Cheap entertainment for man and beast," said Mr. Groves, Good beds. quoting his sign-board. "Half past twelve o'clock." "It's very late," said the uneasy child. "I wish we had gene before. What will they think of us! It will be two o'clock by the time we get back. What would it cost, sir, if we stopped here?"

"Two good beds, one-and sixpence; supper and beer one shilling; total, two shillings and sixpence," replied the Valiant Soldier.

Now, Nell had still the piece of gold sewn in her dress; and when she came to consider the lateness of the hour, and the somnolent habits of Mrs. Jarley, and to imagine the state of consternation in which they would certainly throw that good lady by knocking her up in the middle of the night; and when she reflected, on the other hand, that if they remained where they were, and rose early in the morning, they might get back before she awoke, and could plead the violence of the storm by which they had been overtaken, as a good apology for their absence; she decided, after a great deal of hesitation, to remain. She therefore took her grandfather aside, and telling him that she had still enough left to defray the cost of their lodgings, proposed that they should stay there or the night,

"If I had had but that money before-if I had only known of it a few minutes ago!" muttered the old man. "We will decide to stop here, if you please," said Nell, turning hastily to the landlord.

"I think that's prudent," returned Mr. Groves. "You shall have your suppers directly."

Accordingly, when Mr. Groves had smoked his pipe out, knocked out the ashes, and placed it carefully in a corner of the fire-place, with the bowl downwards, he brought in the bread and cheese, and beer, with many high encomiums upon their excellence, and bade his guests to fall to, and make themselves at home. Nell and her grandfather ate sparingly, for both were occupied with their own reflections; the other gentlemen, for whose constitutions beer was too weak and tame a liquid, consoled themselves with spirits and tobacco.

As they would leave the house very early in the morning,

the child was anxious to pay for their entertainment before ing her little hoard from her grandfather, and had to change they retired to bed. But as she felt the necessity of conceal the piece of gold, she took it secretly from its place of concealment, and embraced an opportunity of following the landlord when he went out of the room, and tendered it to him in the little bar.

"Will you give me the change here, if you please?" said the child.

the money, and rung it, and looked at the child, and at the Mr. James Groves was evidently surprised, and looked at money again, as though he had a mind to inquire how she came by it. The coin being genuine, however, and changed at his house, he probably felt, like a wise landlord, that it was and gave it her. The child was returning to the room where no business of his. At any rate, he counted out the change, they had passed the evening, when she fancied she saw a figure gliding in at the door. There was nothing but a long dark passage between this door and the place where she had changed the money, and, being very certain that no person had passed in or out while she stood there, the thought struck her

that she had been watched.

its inmates exactly as she had left them. The stout fellow And by whom? When she re-entered the room, she found lay upon two chairs, resting his head on his hand, and the squinting man reposed in a similar attitude on the opposite ing intently at the winner with a kind of hungry admiration, side of the table. Between them sat her grandfather, lookand hanging upon his words as if he were some superior be ing. She was puzzled for a moment, and looked round to see if any one else were there. No. Then she asked her grandfather in a whisper whether anybody had left the room while she was absent. "No," he said, "nobody."

that, without anything in her previous thoughts to lead to it,
It must have been her fancy then; and yet it was strange
she should have imagined this figure so very distinctly. She
light her to bed.
was still wondering and thinking of it, when a girl came to

and they went up stairs together. It was a great, rambling The old man took leave of the company at the same time, house, with dull corridors and wide staircases which the flar ing candles seemed to make more gloomy. She left her grandwhich was at the end of a passage, and approached by some father in his chamber, and followed her guide to another, girl lingered a little while to talk, snd tell her grievances, half-dozen crazy steps. This was prepared for her. The She had not a good place, she said; the wages were low, and the work was hard. She was going to leave it in a fortnight; the child couldn't recommend her to another, she supposed! living there, for the house had a very indifferent character, Indeed she was afraid another would be difficult to get after very much mistaken if some of the people who came there of there was far too much card-playing, and such like. She was tenest were quite as honest as they might be, but she would n't have it known that she had said so, for the world. Then there were some rambling allusions to a rejected sweetheart, who had threatened to go a soldiering-a final promise knocking at the door early in the morning-and “Good night.'

She could not help thinking of the figure stealing through the
The child did not feel comfortable when she was left alone.
passage down stairs; and what the girl had said did not tend
to reassure her. The men were very ill-looking. They might
get their living by robhing and murdering travelers. Who
could tell?

for a little while, there came the anxiety to which the adven
Reasoning herself out of these fears, or losing sight of them
kened again in her grandfather's breast, and to what further
tures of the night gave rise. Here was the old passion awa
fears their absence might have occasioned already! Persons
distraction it might tempt him Heaven only knew. What
given in the morning, or turned adrift again? Oh! why had
might be seeking for them even then.
they stopped in that strange place. It would have been bet-
Would they be for
ter, under any circumstances, to have gone on!

sleep, troubled by dreams of falling from high towers, and
At last, sleep gradually stole upon her a broken, fitful
waking with a start and in great terror.
followed this-and then-What! That figure in the room.
A deeper slumber
admit the light when it should dawn, and there, between the
A figure was there. Yes, she had drawn up the blind to
along, groping its way with noiseless hands, and stealing
foot of the bed and the dark casement, it crouched and slunk

round the bed. She had no voice to cry for help, no power to move, but lay still watching it.

On it came-on, silently and stealthily, to the bed's head. The breath so near her pillow, that she shrunk back into it, lest those wandering hands should light upon her face. Back again it stole to the window-then turned its head toward her.

The dark form was a mere blot upon the lighter darkness of the room, but she saw the turning of the head, and felt and knew how the eyes looked and the ears listened. There it remained, motionless as she. At length, still keeping the face towards her, it busied its hands in something and she I heard the chink of money.

Then, on it came again, silent and stealthy as before, and replacing the garments it had taken from the bed-side, dropped upon its hands and knees, and crawled away. How slowly it seemed to move, now that she could hear but not see it, creeping along the floor! It reached the door at last, and stood upon its feet. The steps creaked beneath its noiseless IP tread, and it was gone.

The first impulse of the child was to fly from the terror of being by herself in that room-to have somebody by-not to be alone and then her power of speech would be restored. With no consciousness of having moved, she gained the door. There was the dreadful shadow, pausing at the bottom of the steps.

She could not pass it; she might have done so, perhaps, in the darkness, without being seized, but her blood curdled at the thought. The figure stood quite still, and so did she; not boldly, but of necessity; for going back into the room was hardly less terrible than going on.

Much virtue hath this little plant
To aid you in an hour of want:
What time with colds and coughs you pant,
And inward pain:

Who tastes thereof will say he can't
Be well again?

Green is its blade in pleasant spring;
Green when gay summer spreads her wing;
Green when the winds of autumn sing
The passing year;

Green when the sullen winter king
Reigns long and drear.

Sweet emblem of the love which we,
Thy sons, New-England, bear to thee!
Which, exiled long howe'er we be,
Where'er we range,

Not miles of land, nor leagues of sea,
Nor clime can change.

Blest emblem of the Christian's faith!
Which, when to God he yields his breath,
Survives the wintry chill of death-

Unscathed its bloom,

And springs to life, the Scripture saith,
Beyond the tomb.

POOR JACK.*

PART IX.

The rain beat fast and furiously without, and ran down in BY CAPT. MARRYAT, AUTHOR OF PETER SIMPLE," JACOB FAITHFUL,' &C plashing streams from the thatched roof. Some summer insect, with no escape into the air, flew blindly to and fro, beating his body against the walls and ceiling, and filling the silent place with his murmurs. The figure moved again. The child involuntarily did the same. Once in her grandfather's room, she would be safe.

It crept along the passage until it came to the very door she longed so ardently to reach. The child, in the agony of being so near, had almost darted forward with the design of bursting into the room and closing it behind her, when the figure stopped again.

CHAPTER XXXVI....With those powerful agents, fire and water, we contrive to escape from a French prison. After more than an hour of confusion and loud talking, it was at last proposed and agreed to, nem. con., that the prisoners should be confined in the old church; the twelve invalids to be divided into two parties, who were to be sentinels over them, relieving each other every four hours. The mayor immediately went forward with the village blacksmith to examine the state of the church doors, and ascertain how they might be secured; while the prisoners, having been summoned out of the privateer, were escorted up between two files of the privateer's inen with their swords drawn, and followed by the whole population. As soon as we arrived at the church door, the name of every prisoner was taken down by the mayor, attended by a notary, and then he was passed into the church. Bramble and I of course were marched up with the others; the captain of the privateer talking with us the whole way, through the young man who interpreted, informing us that an The bed had not been lain on, but was smooth and empty. express had been sent over to Morlaix, to which town we And at a table sat the old man himself, the only living creashould be escorted the next day, and then have better accomture there, his white face pinched and sharpened by the gree-modation. As we stood at the huge doors of the church, diness which made his eyes unnaturally bright, counting the money of which his hands had robbed her.

The idea flashed suddenly upon her what if it entered there, and had a design upon the old man's life! She turned faint and sick. It did. It went in. There was a light inside. The figure was now within the chamber, and she, still dumb-quite dumb, and almost senseless-stood looking on. The door was partly open. Not knowing what she meant to do, but meaning to preserve him or be killed herself, she staggered forward and looked in. What sight was that which

met her view!

which were opened for our reception, we perceived that the altar and all the decorations had been removed; and that, with the exception of the large wooden screen of carved oak, near the altar, the church was completely bare. Bramble spoke to the interpreter, nnd said that he hoped the captain would request the mayor to allow the prisoners to have straw to lie down upon, as the pavement would be very cold. Although the mayor at first demurred at this demand, yet the captain of the privater, probably out of good will to Bramble, insisted, and the straw was ordered to be sent in. At last, the mayor became impatient, we could delay no longer, and the doors were closed.

I had surveyed the church as we were escorted up to it; it was very large, capable, I should think, of holding more than two thousand people. The walls of the church were very massive, and the windows had but very few panes of glass remaining in them, but they were so very high as to prevent our climbing out of them, even if there had not been six sentinels guarding us outside. At one corner, to the right of the end of the church where the altar-piece had been, was a narrow stone tower, apparently an addition made to the Lady's chapel, long after the church had been originally built. When we were shut up, we were enabled to survey the interior at our leisure. The whole was completely bare to the pavement until you came to the chancel part, near to which the altar had been, where the wooden screens and seats still remained, in a sad di

A Continued from page 567.

lapidated state; but they must have once been very handsome, for the carving, where was perfect, was very beautiful. A small, thick wooden door, loaded with iron work, communicated with the narrow tower, which had a flight of stone steps running up to the top, and narrow loop-holes to give light as you ascended. While the majority of the prisoners were sitting down here and there on the pavement, few of them entering into conversation, Bramble had, with me, taken a full survey of our locality.

"I tell you what, Tom, if you once get to Morlaix, all chance is over," said he; "we must either get out of this church this very night, or we must make up our minds to remain in prison Heaven knows how long."

"Have we any chance?"

"I'll tell you more about that in a little while."

The door of the church now opened, and the people brought in the straw for the beds, which they threw all in a heap in the centre of the church, and the doors were again closed. "I see daylight now," said Bramble. "Tom, find the mate and boatswain, and bring them here to me quickly." "I did so, and Bramble asked them whether they were inclined to make an attempt to get clear.

They replied that they would join us in any thing, they did not care what it was, and against any odds.

"Well, then," said Bramble," my idea is this. You see there are but twelve old soldiers to guard us; for you may be certain that, before long, all the privateer's men will be as drunk as owls-that 's but natural; not that I think of coming to any fight with them, but I make the observation because, if we get out, we shall have little to fear afterward. Now, you see, I asked for the straw because the idea came in my head that it might be useful. You see, what I propose is, as there is plenty of wood in this part of the church, that we should wait till about three hours after dark-that is, until ten or eleven o'clock-and then set fire to the church. They must come and let us out, you know; at least I take it for granted that they will before the roof comes down: if they do n't we must force the doors ourselves-I've looked at them-and until we do, there is no fear of suffocating, for there are no panes to the windows; so, after all, it will only be a bonfire, without danger to any body."

"Well, but what shall we gain by it?" said the mate; "we shall be walked out with the other prisoners, and how shall we then escape?"

"There it is: we will not be walked out with the other pri goners; and, in the confusion and hurry of taking them away to one place or another, they will not be likely to miss us. We will all go up this narrow tower, where we may remain, till the church falls in, with perfect safety, and then, when all is quiet again, and the people have left the spot, we will make for the pier, get one of the fishing boats, and be off.— How do you like the idea?"

We all agreed that the plan was very feasible, and would attempt it.

"Well, then, we must remain quiet for the present; all you have to do is to fetch as much straw this way as you can by degrees: I expect they will bring us something to eat before long."

We removed a large portion of the straw to the chancel; in half an hour afterward the doors were opened and rations of bread were brought in. What still more assisted our plans that the captain of the privateer at the same time, very good-naturedly, brought a demijohn of brandy, which he gave to Bramble.

was,

Bramble thanked him through the interpreter, and told him that he would get well drunk that night.

"Yes, drive away care, captain says," replied the interpreter.

Once more the doors were closed, and we had no chance of further interruption.

By Bramble's direction, the mate, assisted by me and the boatswain, cast loose the remaining bundles of straw and shook them down as beds for the prisoners at the end of the church nearest to the door; and as soon as they had eaten their bread, Bramble gave them all a portion of the brandy, advising them to turn in soon, as we were to march very early the next morning. We remained with them at first, having taken our seats on the straw as if we also intended to repose. At last it became dusk and then dark; the prisoners settled themselves to sleep; we left them and joined Bramble.Having arranged our straw so as to secure ignition, and leaving the mate and boatswain down below, Bramble and I, new that there was no chanee of our being seen by the senti

nels, ascended the tower. It commanded a view of the town and harbor: we looked down upon the main street-all was mirth and revelry; fiddling, and dancing, and singing were to be heard from more than one house; women in the street laughing, and now and then running and screaming when pursued by the men.

"This is all right," observed Bramble; "in an hour or two you'll see how quiet every thing will be; but I shall not let them all go to bed before I set fire, for there may be some difficulty in waking them. I do n't see that there's any lights down at the pier, where the vessels lie."

We stayed up there till about eleven o'clock, Bramble watching the lights and sounds; and when he considered that they had sufficiently decreased, he said, "No we'll try it, Tom, and may success attend us!"

We descended and found the mate and boatswain anxiously waiting for us. Bramble struck a light with his flint, and we carried it to the screen where we had piled the straw under the seats and against the panels.

'Now, then, messmates," said Bramble, "as long as the others sleep, the better; but if they waken, in the confusion bring here all the straw you can collect, for we must not fail for want of fuel."

But of this there was no chance, for the wood of the screen and benches was so dry that it was a-light immediately. For ten minutes the other prisoners and the guard outside did not appear to be aware of what was going on; but at last the church was so filled with smoke that they were roused up: still the principal smoke was in that portion of the church where we were; at the other end they were not much inconvenienced, as it found vent by the windows. What the invalids were about outside I do not know, but they did not perceive it; probably they had left their guard to go and carouse. At all events the flames had climbed up from the screen and had caught a portion of the roof before the Frenchmen knew that the church was on fire; the smoke was now exchanged for a bright, clear flame, which had already found its way through the slating, and the prisoners were hallooing and screaming as loud as they could. We went to the part of the church where the others were, and joined the outcry. The voices of the people outside were now to be heard, for men and women had been summoned by the cry of the church be ing on fire: still there was no danger until the roof fell in, and that would not be the case for perhaps an hour, although it was now burning furiously, and the sparks and cinders were borne away to leeward by the breeze. The screams of the prisoners now became dreadful; frightened out of their wiss, they fully expected to be burnt alive; still the door was not opened, although we heard a loud consultation of many voices without.

"Well," said Bramble, "I hope they really don't mean to let us burn here; at all events, if they do, I can save the poor devils, for there's room enough on the stairs of the tower for twice as many. At all events we must hold on till the last moment.

As he said this we heard them outside put the key in the door, and immediately Bramble, the boatswain, mate, and I, retreated from the crowd and gained the other portion of the church, which was most in flames. As the door opened we hastened to the tower door, and closing it after us, gained the staircase near the top, where we remained quiet; there was no want of smoke there, but still we could breathe pretty freely, as the fire from the roof was borne down by the wind from us and toward the people, who were at the front of the church. How they disposed of the other prisoners we do not know, as we dared not show ourselves; but in about half an hour the whole of the roof fell down upon the pavement, and nothing but the bare walls of the church were left standing.

After the roof fell in, the light from the flames was so small that we ventured to the top of the tower to look out There were still many people standing about, but the major part of them were gone. As the fire sunk down, so did the people go away; at last there was no one to be seen: we remained more than half an hour watching; light after light disappeared, and all was quiet as death.

"Now's our time," said Bramble, "but still we must be cautious; let us follow one another at about ten yards apart: if we meet with any one, pretend to be reeling as if drunk, and they may think we are privateer's-men not yet gone to bed."

We followed him down the stairs, gained the church, and trod over the still burning embers; as soon as we were clear of the walls, we turned to the right in our way down to the