mander of the Flambeau,—a craft by some called a privateer, and by others set down-may Heaven forgive them!—as nothing better than a pirate !”

I listened to the rover's invitation. There was much that would induce a man, circumstanced as I was, to accept it; I seemed a being marked out for misfortune-for whom no happiness was predestined, and one, for whom fate had reserved the phials of her wrath. Captain Raleigh marked my hesitation.

"Come," said he, "time presses. You brought me, and for little advantage, I regret, out of my course this morning, and I must regain it speedily. You are, as far as I am concerned, a free agent. Come with me-you will be welcome; stay where you are a hundred dollars are at your service, to begin the world anew, and the best wishes of the runaway apprentice you nursed on his passage to the Gambia. I'll rejoin you in five minutes—a time sufficiently long for a man to come to a decision, as well as if he dreamed over it for a twelvemonth."

He turned, walked to another part of the vessel, and gave orders to his crew to man their boats, and prepare for returning to the schooner. Dominique had been a silent, but a most attentive observer of my tête-à-tête with Captain Raleigh, and I beckoned him to approach.

"The hour for parting has arrived, Dominique, which, three days since, neither you nor I could have anticipated; but so fate wills it. A new and perilous career lies before me, the ocean surface must be my home, and its deeps shall furnish me a grave. England, the land of freedom, is your happier destination. Go, my tried and trusty friend; follow some one of brighter fortunes than him you leave; and may your future fate be what your attachment and fidelity to me so richly merit !”

The negro did not speak for a few moments-tears fell fast upon the deck at last, he turned a look of mild inquiry upon my face, and, in a broken voice, asked "in what he had offended me."

I was assuring my sable follower how truly I estimated his worth, and how deeply I felt the necessity that should deprive me of his services, when Captain Raleigh joined us. He held a bag of dollars in his hand. "Here-catch," he cried, as he tossed the money to me. "And now, 'to be or not to be, ay, that's the question.' There's Shakespeare for you. Confound the bard of Avon; 'twas he that made a rover of me; and but for Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, I, Harry Jones, had never been Captain Raleigh, but probably, at this blessed hour, a thriving citizen on Ludgate Hill, slicing off lutestring for a dowager, or assuring some pretty girl how beautifully the last new ribbon harmonized with the colour of her hair. Heigh-ho! I might have been happier. Happier! pshaw! nonsense. Yard and shears are only fit for woman's hand; this is the tool for man's"-and he touched the hilt of his cutlass. "But what's the matter with your dark companion? Has he, too, lost some dollars by the accursed visit of the Frenchman?"

"I have lost more-far more," replied the black, "the preserver of my life—the master whom for seven years I followed-my friend

my benefactor-him have I lost. He tells me that I must leave him— leave one from whom I thought death alone should separate me."

"And will you follow his fortunes, and take your chance on board the schooner ?"

"Follow him!" exclaimed the negro; "oh, were that allowed, Dominique would be too happy."

"No

"Give me that honest fist of yours," returned the rover. matter what the colour of the skin may be; the heart's the thing for me. Well, you'll take your chance, and seek new fortunes in the Flambeau?" he continued, addressing me.

"I have no other choice," was my reply.

"Come, you have no luggage to remove, I fancy; John Crapo saved you that trouble. Jump in; the boat is ready.'

I followed this new director of my destiny; and the whale-boat quitted the vessel's side, where, but three short days ago, I was owner of thirty thousand dollars, to commence a roving life- -a career of criminal adventure-its close-at best an ocean grave—or, what was likelier far, the plank,* the yard-arm, or the gibbet.

I shall pass over an epoch of three years, the crowded history of which was more than enough to fill the story of a life. Would you know it? ask in every Spanish port, from Chili to Panama, what was the Flambeau, and who were her commanders? They will tell you, that that pirate barque, though for years resting in the caves of the Atlantic, still carries terror in her name. They will say, that Raleigh was daring, rash, and sanguinary; but that, with the audacious courage of the boldest buccaneer, Ramirez was merciful; and that the blood of innocence or old age had never stained his hand. Who Raleigh was you know; who Ramirez-you may fancy.

A year had passed since Raleigh had perished in a wild descent upon the Spanish Main; and Ramirez, his successor, had assumed a command for which his daring and good-fortune had qualified him preeminently. Much wealth had been acquired; and it was believed that the Rover Captain had transmitted large remittances, in specie and valuables, to Europe. In one of the secret inlets with which the Caribees abound, the Flambeau had been refitted, provisioned, and made ready for a fresh adventure. The crew were all on board, and nothing delayed the schooner's sailing, but the unaccountable absence of her commander. A week before he had set out for a distant town, to meet a secret agent. The business was speedily transacted, and Ramirez had left the city he had visited, to rejoin the Rover's crew. Day after day passed; the worst suspicions were entertained—it was believed that he had been assassinated; and a deep gloom spread over the whole of the lawless community, who justly regarded Ramirez as the ablest commander that ever trod a rover's deck. Many conjectures were hazarded; three days elapsed, when a canoe paddled one evening on board the Flambeau, and delivered a letter addressed to the second in command, in the well-known hand-writing of the captain. In that epistle the mystery was cleared away; wonder succeeded apprehension; and wishes so often and so warmly breathed * A piratical method of drowning.

by the rover's crew for the safety of their leader, were exchanged for imprecations on his head, and deadly vows of everlasting vengeance; and one, who was an hour before the idol of that lawless band, would have found in every individual who composed it, a willing executioner. What could have caused this singular change of feeling?

In the letter addressed by Ramirez to his lieutenant, he stated that he had determined to abandon a roving life for ever, and assured him that every attempt to ascertain his motives, or discover his retreat, would be equally unavailing. The investment of valuable property on the general account of the predatory community had been faithfully executed. He promised that every secret connected with his late confederates should be buried in his grave-and the eternal silence of his black companion might be equally confided in. The letter concluded with the warmest wishes for their future welfare-with a strong entreaty that they should abandon a dangerous career, which, no matter how long fortune smiled upon it, must inevitably incur an ignominious termination.

Mr. Hartley paused, and took from his pocket a small sealed packet, carefully tied up.

"Hector," said he, addressing me, "the remainder of my sad history would be as painful for me to narrate, as you to listen to. In these detached papers you will find my chequered and adventurous career faithfully outlined. At intervals, few and far between,' when I could look back upon the past with tolerable composure, these unconnected documents were written; and any portions of the tale which may not be sufficiently intelligible, your own fancy must fill up. I have not shrunk from being the chronicler of my own shame; but I have not nerve or courage to be the narrator of suffering so terrible, that reason was unseated, and Heaven alone, through gentle agencies, saved me from total despair. Save one-my child—no other eye has rested on these papers-none other will; for, when you restore them to-morrow, the record of crime and sorrow shall perish. Farewell! At dawn of day expect me. Sleep soundly, boy ;-may never recollections of the past rob you of rest, as they will me!"

He shook my hand, bade me good night, and retired to his chamber; and I, burning with curiosity to learn all the particulars of a "strange eventful history," broke the sealed packet, and read the following details:

THE city of Quito was brilliantly illuminated; it was the anniversary of its patron saint, and, in honour of their holy founder, the convent and church of the Ursulines presented a spectacle of dazzling splendour. The latter was lighted with a thousand tapers, and the great altar was ornamented with all the monastic treasures which a devotee delights to view. Crucifixes and sacred vessels, in gold and silver, and of surpassing beauty, were liberally exhibited; while relics, in jewelled cabinets, were on this, the high festival of Saint Ursula, brought from their hallowed shrines, to delight the eyes and gladden the hearts of the faithful. A long array of dignified ecclesiastics, in gorgeous robes, filed in procession through the lofty aisles, while censors blazed, and the pealing organ thundered forth its "jubilate.' Within a large extent round the city, all that was noble, wealthy, or religious, on this her glorious anniversary, were assembled to do honour to their favourite saint,-while salvos of artillery from the ramparts, and the rolling fire of feu de joie, rose at times above the choral swell, adding to a religious pageant, the anomalous associations which a battle-field and "heady fight" would give. To complete the effect of this splendid spectacle, the proud, the brave, the beautiful, followed humbly in procession after monk and nun-the men bearing perfumed tapers of coloured wax-while the women strewed flowers as they moved along before the blessed relics of their sainted patroness.

"

Leaning against a pillar of the nave, two personages of very different appearance, viewed the procession with that interest it was so well calculated to excite. One, from his quiet air and sober dress, seemed a man engaged in some peaceful avocation; he might have been a notary, a doctor, or a trader. The other, a young, tall, and handsome cavalier, was richly attired in a fanciful costume; rapier and poignard were in an embroidered belt; rings of costly workmanship glittered on his fingers, and a jewel of exquisite brilliancy sparkled from the looping of his richly-plumed hat. As the procession moved slowly on, the gay stranger might have been overheard addressing his more sober companion, to inquire who the actors in the passing scene

might be ; and while he bent his head indifferently as every succeeding relic passed, and bishop and mitred abbot, one after another, defiled before him, the irreligious stranger never asked their names.

"Yon stately man in the rich cope and alb is the holy prior of San Augustin;-he exorcises devils

66

"

The gay foreigner impatiently interrupted his soberer companion. Hang the fat prior !-we have no devils to be exorcised."

"And see, yonder thin black priest-he is the canon of San Roque, -the best preacher that ever mounted pulpit."

"There leave him, my good friend, I hate the drowsy race. Ha! -Who is that noble-looking person in the green uniform faced with gold?"

"That is General Paez. Saints and angels !-here comes the archbishop of

"Never mind the archbishop. Who is the silver-headed veteran with the hat and scarlet plume?"

"Oh, that is Admiral Cordova. But the Dominican who bears the banner

Again the irreligious foreigner broke in. "Confound them both! bearer and banner. Look, man!"- -as another, and the fairest portion of the procession, walked slowly past the pillar, strewing flowers as they moved along. "Ay," said the stranger, "that sylph-like girl, with blue eyes, is worth all the monks and cardinals who ever said an ave, or carried a blessed candle. But see!-mark you that lovely girl in silvered satin ?-she with the ebon locks, and downcast eyes. How beautiful is that air-the easy movement of her walk-the grace with which each flower drops from her hand! I must not, dare not look."

""Twere better not," remarked the soberer of the twain; "she is for the last time in worldly company in another week she enters the convent of Saint Agatha, and she will be professed immediately."

"Professed!" exclaimed his companion,- -"what means that? But see-the procession halts!" and at the moment, the beautiful religieuse stopped at the base of the very pillar against which the gay stranger had taken his position.

"Who is that sweet girl?" said the latter, impatiently.

The sudden halting of the long array caused the fair flower-bearer to look up, and her eyes encountered those of the stranger which were turned upon her in breathless admiration. The beautiful devotee coloured to the brows, and again her eyes dropped upon the tesselated pavement. It was probably from agitation that a small bouquet, composed of the most delicate flowers which a tropic clime produces, fell unconsciously from her hand, when, unperceived by any but the lovely religieuse and his own companion, the stranger picked it up, pressed it for a moment with ardour to his lips, and then carefully deposited the floral treasure in his bosom. Again the procession moved, the beauteous devotee exchanged a passing glance; and if it were intended to reprove the boldness of the daring adventurer, or express sorrow at the loss of her fragrant bouquet, neither feeling was conveyed, for the look was the sweetest one imaginable.