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By means of industry, parsimony, and other more, history, political and domestic, to which it equivocal methods, Pepys amassed much wealth. Hel refers. had not yet actually set up his carriage, although the The diary extends to the 31st of May, 1689, when idea had taken firm possession of his mind, but did Pepys was compelled to relinquish this daily task, so shortly after. Investment was in those days through the weakness of his eyesight. The fifth neither so easy nor so safe as at present. He volume, just published, opens with the 1st of Sept., therefore kept much of his money at home, piled 1683, when he mingles in the gaieties of Bartholoup in unproductive heaps, under lock and key, with mew Fair, and takes occasion to kiss “a mighty his watchful eye continually keeping ward. One! velle-fille that was exceeding plain, but fort belle.morning, however, he fairly gave himself up almost. The second of this month was a general and strict to despair, for to be spoiled of his gold pieces would fast, in commemoration of the burning of London, have been to him a misfortune far more dire than an event which had risen the price of books to a to be robbed of his wife. The incident is very ludi- great extent, for on the next morning we find Pepys crous, and narrated in so entertaining a manner at his bookseller's, buying a copy of “Hobbes' by the diarist, that we quote it:

Leviathan,” then much in repute, which was for“ 29th Nov.-Waked about seven o'clock this morning with a | merly sold for eight shillings, but “I now give noise I supposed I heard, near our chamber, of knocking, which, twenty-four shillings for at the second hand, and is by-the-by, increased; and I, more awake, could distinguish it sold at thirty shillings, it being a book the bishops better. "I then waked my wife, and both of us wondered at it; || will not let be printed again.” and so lay a great wliile, while that it increased ; and at last heard it plainer, knocking as if it were breaking down a window for

In November, 1688, he buys a carriage, and is people to get out; and then removing of stools and chairs; and thenceforward raised many degrees in the estima. plainly, by-and-by, going up and down our stairs. We lay, tion of his friends; although, whilst enjoying the both of us afraid ; yet I would have rose, but by my wife would ease and dignity of the possession, its cost is connot let me. Besides, I could not do it without making noise ; and tinually present to his mind. we did both conclude that thieves were in the house, but

Thus elevated, howwondered what our people did, whom we thought either killed ever, he does not disdain to eat twopennyworth of or afraid as we were. There we lay till the clock struck eight, oysters opened for him by a woman in the street. and high day. At last I removed my gown and slippers softly to The livery of his coachman and serving-boy please the other side of the bed over my wife; and then safely rose, him “mightily," and it is with joyful delight, al. and put on my gown and breeches; and then with a firebrand in my hand, safely opened the door, and saw nor heard anything. Then, the first drive in the park.

most approaching to exultation, that he anticipates with fear, I confess, went to the maid's chamber door ; and all quiet and safe. Called Jane up, and went down safely, and

In order to regulate his expenditure more strictly, opened my chamber door, where all well. Then more freely now that the establishment of a carriage opened a about, and to the kitchen, where the cook-maid up, and all safe. I fresh drain from his purse, he came to an agreeSo up again ; and when Jane came, and we demanded whether ment with his wife, to allow her £30 a-year for all exshe heard no noise, she said, yes, but was afraid;' but rose with the other maid, and found nothing; but heard a noise from the penses--clothing and everything—which mightily great stack of chimneys that goes from Sir J. Maine's house pleased her, it being much more than she ever asked through ours. So we ventured their chimneys had been swept this or expected.” Gratified and contented as Mrs. morning; and that was the noise, and nothing else."

Pepys was at this “generosity,” she never forgot The night before, they had been fearfully alarmed her husband's eccentricities with regard to other by hearing a strange noise on the staircase, which women, continually vexing him with allusions, and in reality was nothing more than a young cat de- avoiding conversations in which he found pleasure. scending the whole flight at two leaps. At first it on the 10th of January (Sunday), lie, before rising, was supposed that the house was haunted.

spoke to her of the servant-maids, and said one We must hasten on with Pepys, and avoid to notice

"little word that did give occasion to my wife to countless curious things both of what occurred to him fall out.” She prolonged the discussion almost all and of what he heard, which in themselves are well the morning with excessive bitterness, and then worthy of attention. He tells us now how his wife relapsed into friendliness. The fact that she was was as mad as the devil, and there was nothing but continually ripping up old wounds, gave Pepys, as ill words during a whole evening, and how he tore || he tells us, much annoyance, and made him melana rent in his fine camlet cloak on the latch of a choly for the rest of the day. On the night of the door, and how it was darned-how he met two 12th, however, having ceased from her hostilities for boys one evening, and was amused by their two days, she returned to the assault, and, this swearing, stamping, and fretting, because un

time, invented a more practical method of expressable to get their horse over a stile and ditch, ing the indignation of her heart. Observing her one of them swearing and cursing most bit

mighty dull” in the evening, Pepys acknowledg. terly; and I would fain, in revenge, haveing that he himself was not "mighty fond,” bepersuaded him to have drove his horse through || cause of the hard words she had given him, retired the ditch, by which, I believe, he would have stuck to bed, expecting his wife to follow. Waking after there.” In this, however, he failed, for the horse a short sleep, he found she had not come, but was would not go, and he was disappointed of his in the room, lighting fresh candles, piling fuel on amiable desire. Many other things he tells us, the fire, and making the place comfortable, without too, equally remarkable and eccentric; and many of in the least preparing to go into the bed. them, to the last degree, are curious illustrations of “At this, being troubled, I, after a while, prayed her to come the civilization of that period. But, as we have to bed; so, after an hour or two, she silent, and I now and then said, it is impossible to notice more than a few of praying her to come to bed, she fell all into a fury—that I was a

rogue, and false to her. I did, as I might truly, deny it, and was the curiosities of this diary, which is a complete || mightily troubled; but all would not serve. museum of facts connected with the period of "At last, about one o'clock, she came to the side of the bed,

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and drew my curtain open, and with the tongs red-hot at the end, i discomforts that will accompany my inciug blind, the good God made as if she dil design to pinch me with them. At which, in

Prepare me!" dismay, I rose up; and, with a few words, she laid them down; and did, by little and little, very sillily, let all the discourse all;

These are the last words in this extraordinary inil about tiro, but with much sceming difficulty, come to bed, diary. and there lay well all night, and lay in bed taiking together, willi The present is a work which will not lose its buch plensire--it being, I know, nothing but her conbt of my l value when scores of contemporary books are gone going out yesterday, without telling her of my going, which did and forgotten as leaves rotting in the earth. Spring vex her, poor wretch! last niglit. And I cannot blame her jealousy, though it do vex me to the heart."

brings forth new buds, green and fresh, and the Mrs. Pepys seems to have been watchful of her old vegetation of the past year is trodden underhusband; and though, after this explosion, no violent

foot and perishes, to be no more thought of; but “ scene

took place for some time, she seizes the the next season, rich as it may be in works of enoccasion when Pepys is going home from the play during interest, will not, neither will any that sueto utter a wicked allusion upon the industry with ceed it, bring out another set of volumes more which he employed his eyes at the theatre,

valuable, more curious, more extraordinary, in ing,' as he naively explains, "upon women. The every point of view, than this Diary of Samuel next day, she again vexes him, so that, going Pepys, which is a treasury of rare facts, antique to bed without supping, he weeps to himself for ideas, and secret information. It is the unveiling grief, “which she discerning, comes to bed, and of the reign of Charles II. The people of those mightily kind.” On another occasion, soon after, days saw events succeeding each other in rapid Knipp winks at Pepys while at the theatre, a cir- | succession, but were unaware of the motive poser cumstance 19t unnoticed by his wife, who is carcfall/ which carried them on. We have here exposed to mcntion it. Numcrous little instances of this the hidden machinery of those days. They witl:ind occur to disturb the tenor of our diarist's life. ressed and felt the effects of policy; we find hern With his carriage, however, his favours at Court, the causes, and see the secret springs. In a word, his aristocratic friends, his increasing wealth, the

we are admitted into the concealed chamber of the fine dinners he can give, the presents he receives, | past, and trace, to their deepest and most intrieate anul the pleasure he enjoys, he has few causes of roots, things which, branching out and fructifyin, innoyance, except in the increasing weakness of his in every variety of form and character, appeared, in cres. This hespraksof'willigreat regret; but his regrets the ordinary spectator of those days, either as th are sometimes equally gricrous where trijies are in the result of a miracle, or as the ordinary effects of a case as when rcal misfortunes occur. This is also true natural and unalterable process. The source of of his gratification. Heesults over the merest common- the river, the root of the tree, the very seed from pılacc incidents, as though some greatercut had occurred. // which the flower sprang, the hidden fountain of One particular source of delight displays a very peculiar events, are here rerealed. For this, the book is part of his character. So attached was lie to royalty, | at once intoxicating and valuable. Could the so dearly did he love to come in contact with it, that reader be suddenly transplanted and set down die exults, as an honour almost too grand to be con

in a distant region, in the midst of a city exactly ceived, that he was allowed to kiss the corpse of a corresponding in aspect to the manners and customs queen who had laid in her grave for more than two

of its population, and in every minute particular. hundred years. Visiting llestminster Abbey on Shrove with the London and the citizens of Pepys' time, Tuesday, he saw, “by particular favour, the body of he would, doubtless, be sensible of as astonishizga Queen Katherine of Valois; and I had the upper part change as the savage from Timbuetoo would exof her body in my hands, and I did kiss her month,perience if suddenly transported to the spot ci reficcting upon it, that I did kiss a quecne; and that ground opposite the Royal Exchange, where te this was my birthday (23d February, 1658), thirty- whirl of locomotion would turn him giddy, skera six years old, that I did kiss a qucene!”

the roar of trafiie would stun him, and where th: To afford an idea of what this queen was whom strangeness of every sight would bewilder his senses, Pepys so lovingly hugged and kisscd, we may quote Next to this, and little less astonishing to our 23from Dart :-" There it hath ever since continued ! prepared mind, must be the perasal of the Pepssa to bo scen; the bones being firmly united, and thinly diaries, from which Mr. Blacaulay, while sketba: clothed with flesh, like scrapings of tuned leather.” | the manners and civilization of the period, bien The reader, doubtless, does not envy Pepys the pri largely borrowed. vilege he enjoyed.

Te cannot now pause to accompany Pepts At length the weakness and soreness of his eyes through the remainder of his life, to bis grave, :: became almost intolerable. To jelinquish his diary is with the diary we have had to do; and that en is was now imperative. He could, it is true, continue, we take leave of him, The new edition pos by the aid of a secretary, to note down such facis lished will, doubtless, liave for many the mosis of importance, either public or private, as it was

and the interest of a new work. It has been te essentially necessary for him to do; but this pri-larged, improved, and corrected, Lord Braybrea? vate record of his thoughts, legible then to him must congratulate himself on the admiration F. alone, must be abandoned. The sacrifice was which his most excellent performance of the pairs great, for he seems to have cherished those journals of editor has filled every reader. His indesin with something like affection. However, the sacri- and his judicious ability cannot too highis be fice was imperative, and he submitted to it, griev- praised. His notes are valuable and interesting. ing bitterly over the necessity :

The whole is arranged with regularity and precision "And so I betake myself to that course which is almost as

whilst the copious index may be considered as aldo much as to see myself go into the grave; for which, and all the Jing most materially to the value of the edition.

GLASGOW CROSS-A SKETCH.

WHERE good King William and his steed arise, A source of rapture to admiring eges, And hideous faces, on the wall bestowed, With grim contortions mock the passing crowd; Where stiff policemen stiff policemen greet, And iron-tipp'd batops wake the echoing strect; Recruiting sergeants look fieret, lauzlı, and swcar, ind country bumpkins, all andazenient, stare; There lazy porters loiter for a lift, The brazen badge no badge of worldly thrift; Where coaxing cabmen wheedle simple folks, Or, balked in that, retail suspicious jokes; Wiere masic-bells attract the listening ear, Delighted urchins travel for to hear; Where bargain-drivers meet, and idlers atray, And josiling 'busses throng the crowded way: A varied spectacle salutes the eye, Of pride and pomp, of rags and misery.

"Tis market-lay, and, hark! the busy hum:
From North and South, from East and test, they've comic,
Business their theme, the rise and fall of stocks,
The price of grain, of timber, and of llocks --
llow prosper crops, if blight or bloom prevail,
If neeps* are lealthy, or potatoes fail;
The present prospects of vur inland trade,
The likely influence of some law new-made,
The fiults and merits of the late invention,
Ind kindred topics, taiious to mention ;
A very Babel, though the tongues are one,
From early morning till the setting sun.

A country damsel, fresh as new-mown hay,
In lilac calico and ribbons ;
See! where she connes: a basket o'er hier 2011,
Veatness her prids, and innocence her charm.
The gaudy shops she, woudering, surveys,
huse temptsome bargains catch her eager gaze;
“This style" and " that," at snch and such a price,
“ A sankrupt stock"__"tremendous sucrifice."
She looks, and hesitates, then looks again,
Decides in filvour ofilie six and te."
Venturing withiv, with awkwant, bashful stare,
A spaik politely hands her to a chair-
His goods expose, praises more or less
" This fabric, muam, would ruke a maithless dress;
That which you tired on, trur, is well cough;
Bat tliis I'll guarantee superior stall."
His winning manners overcome poor Jenny,
And sis-and-tenpence swells into it guinea.

ITith arms akimbo, and a miling face,
Yon apron'l citizen the scene startoys.
"Tis his, with dexterous skill the hair to crop,
And skin the razor o'er the bearded chop;
Down in the allis, lid from curious eyes,
From morntille'en liis cmning craft he plies;
The pole-suspended lasin overlica,
l'roclaims the workshop where he wins his bread.
The morning saw him eager at his trale,
Dispense the lasher, viekl the glittering blade;
Non noon insites liim to enjoy his ense,
Chat with his neiglıbours, and inhale the breezr.

With purpled nore, anil mufilel to the lipe,
Tehold the remnant oil!e last of "whips !"
Where now the "s proye" he fingered four-in-hand,

in wherlei obedient to his least command, With recking hides urged thruşli the lazy anon, While roused the villave at the twranging lioin! Or, in his scarlet cont, he took liis scat, Detieel the wintry storn and summer heat. With poisy wheels the drowsy 'pike awoke, Retailed with glee the oft-repeated joke; The bar enlivened with his rosy face, Laughed with the maids, and swallowed o'er his glass ;

Turnips.

Ali, fickle Fortune! last thou used hiin tlus?
Condemued to drive a city omnibus,
With jaded hacks, wade through the bustling throng,
Searce fit to drag their weary lengtlis along.

All-powerful Steam may conquer time and space,
The houry customs of our sires cil'ace,
On paths of iron traverse the isle's extent,
Invite to roan the distant continent,
Fight with the fmy of Atlantic scas,
Scorn the tomado, and defy the breeze :
Unmoved he struggles in his lowly sphere,
Henrs not of change, or liecds not if he hcu,
Who, nursed in rags, to frequent want a prey,
Plods in luis weary course from day to day
The child of chance, the football of the lour-
In boyliood beggar'd, and continues poor.
With lingering step, in wooden prison pent,
IIe slowly stalks, a live advertisement;
llis narrow means, food for small wits afford-
llis daily pay, a sliilling with his board.
The evening brings him liberty and ease,
To stretch his weary bones where'er lie please :
A:d what remains wlien ayc and stillness come?
The gloomy torkhouse, l'overty's last home.

Whom have ve here?-« full-length city suc!? ; Proud as a peacock, empty as a bell. Fith labour finished, perfect to the boots, llis whiskers faultless, what a dash he cuts! Ilis glossy liat, set with a knowing air, Would fain part company from his well-combed hair; His snowy linen, guiltless of a stain ; llis ponderous breast-pin, and his dangling chain; llis garb, n jerkry's, ezen to the cane. With pompeius gait, le picks liis may along, And eyes, with stolid looks, the presing throng; Or, with his friend attempts to be facetious; llis favourite plirases, "lorrid," and delicious." The 'Tron proclaims alund the passing hourHe looks his watch, and starts to find it four; Then wheels hin round in hurrier trepidation, To yonder citizen's sore consternation. Tot this the region where the genns tlirives, Tet oft it comes to tell the world it lives.

Now, slimmering twilight mantles o'er the throng,
lud wander forth the noisy sons of song.
Now screaming urchins read the crening air,
ird grouiug minstrels pour their noic's afir,
Bulemiau yngrants suell the uncontli din
by asarice tempted far from home and l.in,
The tyranny of their petty lords to bear,
The niseries of a slavislı litc to slure.
Vox rakish Vice pours forili her walton crew,
Their nighty devels of darkness to pursue,
In rubes of failed tinery arrayed,
With miyeing stejos ille gus-lit parejarade --
Shock the chaste car with their unhallowed glcc-
O and the sober, void of moderir.
ll, luckles fate! the cheerful day must shun,
Jor share the intinence of the islessed suu;
In mad debauchery consume the night,
Vor case their orgies till the early light
('oupel them to their dens, with fever'l brain,
And keep them there till darkness come again.

See niliere their petty thift they, zealous, ply,
Paslıcı, ancon:bed, unclad, it teeniny fry;
Vor threats intimidate, nor scowls rep --
T'is yonrs to purchase, as 'tis theirs to sol.
With tapes, a yard long, and phosphoric lights,
They vex the peaceful passengers o' nights.
“Observe the quality! observe the size!
Our wares arc cheap-a ha penny all the price!"

Intrusive still, and still this is their cry-
“Who'll buy my matches, laces, tapes ; who'll buy?"
Whence do ve come, ye traders juvenile?
As yet unfit to swell the ranks of toil.
Your peddling over, whither do ye roam?-
Where the abodes ye designate a home?
On scanty straw, in yonder ruined shed,
He lays him down, to him a welcome beil.
The weary night-watch through, on some cold stair,
lie wraps hinı iu his razs, io shun the air ;
In saine o'ercrowded den, to vagrants knowo,
The rotten planks, a sorry clauge from stone.

A brace of sparks, escaped from daily thrall-
llow valu they swagger, and how loudly bawl! -
Strut arm in arm--attempt a martial air-
Dart ill-bred glances at the passing fair;
Ape the low manners of the “man on town,"
And think no wit so lively as their own.
Behind a counter doomed to pass the day,
Dealing broad-cloths, merinocs, silks away;

They sigh for evening, with its dusky brain,
When Liberty unlinks their galling chain ;
Then rush like school-boys, from the irksome rule,
To waste the precious time, and play the fool;
In bitter mouthfuls puff a cheap cigar,
Which loads with nausea all the evening air;
Or lead the applause in you o'ercrowded rooms,
Where music struggles with the sick’ning íuines
Of rank tobacco, which a thousand breatlis
Upward discharge, in circling, shady wreaths,
Then homeward recl, with giddy, aching head,
To sleep their muddy fancies off in bed.

Hark! from the steeple—'tis the warning-leil!
And now the watch begins his nightly tale;
Beat unto beat in hollow tones convey
The rapid dissolution of the day,
Now Toil and Folly each withdraws its train,
And sober Quietude assumes the reign.

JAMES TAILE.
Glasgow, September, 1819.

AN AUTUMN FANCY,

WRITTEX IN GREENWICII PARK.

SAD wind! why moan

How, in the suns of June,
The sere leaf's fall!

It glisten'd through the noon,
Goes it alone

While footing it upon the boughs to thy low melody -
Or, with all nobler things, alas! but shares the fate of all?

While wanderers through the wood,
Sad sobber through September,

Checking their footsteps, stood,
Perchance thou dost remember

And seldom without pleasant note could pass its beauty br. 'The bursting of that rustling leaf in April's tearful time;

Thy wings were winnowing there
With what a gladness first

The pallid Autumn air,
Its downy cell it burst,

What time, with dark’ning days, alas! the waning year grev vid And gazed on all the sweet Spring sees, when near its leafy prime;

Thou saw'st its green, that made
With what a glad surprise

The forest lovely, fade,
It oped its infant eyes,

Yet deepen into gorgeous hues, that sham'd the sunshine's gold; And first, with mingled joy and awe, peer'd out on all around

How, even in decay,
From all that met its sight

Did beauty, lingering, stay
Took ever new delight,

About the aged form so well it lor'd to deck when youngDumb wonder from each common sight-dumb wonder from

Thou sawost it still, below,
Sad sigher through the sky, [each sound.

A golden glory throw
Perchance, too, thou wert nigh

The shadowed trunks, the mossy roots, and tangled weeds among. What time its quiet rest it took amongst the light of June

Perchance, too, day by day
Oft saw’st it slumbering where,

Thou saw'st it wear away,
Soft-couch'd on golden air,

Fast shrivelling in the early frosts and with'ring to its grave. Out-tired with play and merriment, it nestled ’mid the noon;

Perchance, if thou couldst tell,
Or, when thy gentle song

Within thy sight it fell;
Was heard the boughs along,

Whilst thou couldst only moan and sob, all impotent to save, How, from its dreaming noontide rest, you saw it quivering

It may be, now, there throng
Saw to thy singing, how,

[break

Thy memory along
L'pon the brown-bark'd bough,

Sad thoughts of all its Spring's sweet youth-of all its Sunner's With many a mate, in glossy green, the dance and song 'twould

Well may'st thou for its fall
Yet thou forgettest not,

(wake.

Now wail--reinembering all
Perchance, sad wailer, what

The beauty of its first young days--the glory of its prime Unutter'd loveliness was its when Summer skies were blue;

And yet, why moan
In what a dazzling green

The sere leaf's fall!
Its veined form was scen,

Gocs it alone
When sparkling through the morning air, bejewell'd o'er with dew; // Or, with all nobler things, alas ! but shares the fates of all ?

W.C. BENXITT.

A TALE OF THE MEXICAN GULF.

ATTACK.

(Continued froin page 508.) CHAPTER 5.-THE

narrow footpath on one side. 1s, when the Spauiards It was scarcely dawn. The pirate island lay buried landed, they would either attempt to enter the island in profound and heavy slumber. Captain and men by this gully, or by the grotto, Simon Morris was not had carvused deeply after their voyage, and were, long in making his plan of defence. When he was doubtless, drowsy. It was usual for a sentry to mount joined by his motley crew, it was already settled in guard, at all hours, on a particular point of the island ; his mind. but twenty years of impunity had not rendered the These audacious Spaniards must never go hence habit very regular.

to tell the tale,” he said, addressing his lieutenant The man whose duty it was to signalise any danger, || Paolo, in a tone of desperate resolution. “They must had a small box, to take shelter from the rain and be punished for their foolhardiness, while we will storms, and here he soundly slept of his debauch of share the rich booty of their vessels. My boys! we the night before. Fortunately, however, he did not wanted but two such vessels as these to be island sleep so heavily as might have been expected, for he kings indeed! There is a good ship of thirty-two guns, suddenly turned round, sat up, and looked around him. || and a schooner of cight. With thesc, our brigantine, and

Madre di Dios ! what do I see :” he cried, the three hundred more men, we may here defy all the fumes of the potent punch flying from his brain like fleets of Spain. But to business; pleasure will come thin clouds before the breeze.

afterwards." He seemed petrified with astonishment. A brig and The men answered by a suppressed cheer. schooner were anchoring underthe cliff, and were putting “Paolo! take you fifty men, and go make ready the out boats. It was clear an attack on the island was Alice for defence. Do not spare the rascals; but intended, for the brig wore the royal flag of Spain, the make as many prisoners as you can. A month's ca. boats put out were numerous, and a large number of rousing will make all the men our own.” tuen were ready to fill them.

Paolo picked out fifty men, and prepared to move “ Those accursed boats that escaped us yesterday away at once. have given the alarm,” muttered the pirate, without "If there be traitors here,” said Simon Morris, "let moving; "and the Devil's Island is no longer an in- i them wipe out their trcachery now. All bygones shall violable retrcai. Remains the questivil, which will be forgotten in the remembrance of duty done this be most profitable—to descend to the beach, and guide day.” up the Spaniards; or alarm my comrades, and make a And Simon Jorris glauced at the soliloquising senfight? Hum! I am condemned to the galleys fortry. Paolo and Bill Smith exchanged uneasy glances. life---and the Spanish Admiral may admire my devo. Their consciences made his words sound strangely. tion, and then give me up to justice; while liberty and “You, Bill Smith! take twenty men, and man the black Tabora are here after victory. Here goes.” point yonder. If any get off in boats, give them h

Luckily for you,” said Simon Morris behind him, let not the brig or schooner stir from their anchorage. in a cold, stern voice, “your reasoning was good. Your heavy guns can cut their rigging to pieces. Go!" But men don't always talk aloud; it might be awkward. Paolo hurried to the core, Bill Smith to the fort, Go, wake up every fellow, and bid them join me. One while the rest stood round the captain. They all had third reinain on the cliff. Let the rest juin me, guns, swords, and pistols; and a more reckless and armed to the teeth, in the grotto.'

ferocious-looking gang never, perhaps, was before col. The Spanish pirate sncaked away with a terrified lected together. and cowed air, aud Simon Morris, who could not sleer, On the summit of the cliff stood two heavy picces and who had come out just in time to catch sight of, of ordnance, taken from a vast Spanish frigate, capthe eneiny, remained alone.

tured by stratagem ten years before. These Simon "What snake has bit the silly girl, to waken thus Morris confided to the care of Smith, the carpenter, her slumbering conscience ? The thought maddens and a dozen men. me more and more. Lucky that the desperate struggle “If the villians fly, play on them and the ships till which now awaits me will drive out such fancies. Come, they haul down their flags.” let me plan my defence.”'

Smith, the carpenter, promised to obey orders imAnd Siinon Morris moved down to the extreme plicitly. edge of the cliff, near the shaft which led below into Simon Morris then descended to the grotto, as the the grotto, and which was of artificial construction. Spanish boats, a dozen in number, were nearly on

• They must be caught in that,” muttered the old shore, bearing about two liundred and fifty men. pirate ; "and then from the fort and cliff we must play The pirate himself had more than a hundred men on the ships. Their boats will make for the cove, with him, with the advantage of a swivel gun, and the where lies the Alice; but that is easily guarded. A shelter of the grotto. broadside from her deck and from Old Tom will sicken “Keep back, and slow not the gleam of your steel,” them of trying that passage."

said the captain, in a low, cautious tone. "Be ready. The pirate's brigantine lay snugly in a deep and small Give them guns first; then throw these away, and go core, to which access was had by a narrow channel, in with sword and pistol. Kill none who surrender, through which it was always warped. This channel as we must have recruits; but spare pot the rascals was between losty, perpendicular rocks, which left a who show fight.”

SC

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