Simon Morris began his narrative in Spanish, to which all listened attentively, especially the two women, while the attention of Caterina was perfectly wrapt. When Genevieve took Oliver away, and after, as the reader may have guessed, they had sealed their troth by the first sweet kiss of love, the young girl, blushing and happy, led Oliver Mildmay into the centre of a dense thicket, close to the bower, and facing the terrace on which the company sat. A ladder led upwards to a rustic bower in the very thick of the foliage, whence every motion of the group below could be seen. "This is perfect Fairyland," said the young man, in a low tone. My father has exercised his fancy to amuse my solitude in every way," replied Genevieve, seating herself in a swinging hammock, while Oliver reclined on a kind of divan. "But not only has he thought of my pleasure, but my safety. See!" she continued; "this bower in the summit of the largest tree in the island, appears a mere amusement; but raise that round mat in the middle." Oliver did so, and only saw a square board of the floor, like the rest of the bower. Of course not. But all the island is nothing but caves and grottoes; and my father, aided by Mariana, and I, and Caterina, some two years back, dug down to a cave which opens by the fall of the torrent there below. I and Caterina hauled up the earth, and cast it out below the bower." 66 Admirable ! Your father avowed his fear of danger?" Oliver; "and all but yon pirates, whom I recognise, are deeply attentive." "I wish I could hear,” said Genevieve. "As you cannot," observed Oliver Mildmay, "perhaps you will listen to me.” 66 And what have you to tell me?" "Of my love, of my hopes, of my wishes, and all the joyous emotions that fill my heart. I would speak, not of the present, but of the future, and of our prospects. I would speak of our marriage, dearest cousin! of the hour when we shall be husband and wife, far away from these scenes of terror." "Speak," said Genevieve, in a low, sweet tone, and with a new blush; "I listen." Simon Morris frankly told the tale of his life, which deeply interested all save Paolo and Bill Smith, who wondered how a man with such spoony ideas could ever have been a pirate chief. You force me to respect you, sir," said the old Spanish officer who had commanded the expeditiou. "A precious rum start!" whispered Bill Smith. "I always fancied our captain was half a parson." "That explains his being so chicken-hearted about prisoners," replied Paolo, with an imperceptible shrug of disgust. "Why weep you, Caterina?" asked Simon Morris, a little gruffly, to the younger of the Spanish women. "I am weeping at the death of Alice," replied the young woman, in a low tone, "and wishing I had been in her place." "Why?" "That I might have been regretted as she has been." The pirate frowned, and bade the silly woman hold her tongue; but all saw that, despite his fifty years, the pirate had won the heart of the susceptible maiden of thirty, who was both pretty and elegant. The Spanish officers smiled, and looked at each other with meaning looks. You need never look far for a second wife," said the old captain, in a low tone, to Simon. "If ever my daughter marry, I shall take Caterina to nurse my old age," replied Simon Morris, quietly. But Caterina heard, and a radiant and happy smile crossed her face. Simon Morris was the only man not a drunken and brutal freebooter whom she had seen since she was seventeen years of age. "The men are coming up," said Paolo, rising from his luxurious divan. "I am ready," replied the pirate chief. Two sentrics stood at the foot of the terrace on which sat the persons above mentioned. Simon, in a gola dress, which well set off his fine form and stalHe saw that he might be attacked at some future wart mien, rose, leaned on his long sword, and pretime by some of his enemies, and that it was wise and|pared to meet his crew. prudent to be prepared. Now that I know the character of his people, I am deeply grateful for this pre-moment with the Spanish prisoners; and they were, in caution." truth, as drunk as their guests. The fifty who came were all supposed to be wholly devoted to the lieutenant. "It was wise and cautious indeed," observed Oliver, who, though he said nothing on the subject, could not but reflect on the danger to which a young girl like Genevieve was exposed with such a lawless crew. My father is speaking, and all the rest are listening," observed his fair cousin, who was gazing through the thick foliage at the bower below. "He seems telling them some story," replied Only a part came. Paolo had left the rest for the Smith, the carpenter, was spokesman. He advanced, and, though intoxicated, delivered his address. It concluded by asking a boon on the occasion. "Granted!" cried Simon, "if it be nothing against my principles and power." He might have said "unconstitutional," but the word was not invented. "The heads of those Spanish traitors around you." The officers drew together in alarm. "What means this insolence?" cried Simon Morris, glancing fiercely at Paolo. "I have to thank thee, devil! for this bloody work." "No! chicken-hearted captain," cried some behind the crowd. "Who is chicken-hearted?" thundered the pirate. "You! and this is the last of your reign," screamed Bill Smith, catching the pirate behind, and hurling him to the ground. In an instant he was disarmed, and the mutineers had it all their own way. They would have killed Simon and the Spanish officers on the spot; but, as they had not been killed in the mêlée, Paolo, who had his ulterior plans, interposed, and advised their being confined. "We will give them a fair trial," he said, with a ferocious grin," and then they shall have justice done them." The men yelled with delight. They were old pirates, and the bloodiest of the crew, to whom the promised torture was delight. Simon and the Spaniards were securely bound, placed within the bower, and confided to the care of Smith the carpenter, and twelve men ; after which Paolo and some four others hastened in search of Genevieve, whom the ruffians intended not to spare one hour. Bill Smith and the rest of the gang returned to carouse. CHAPTER VIII. OLIVER AT WORK. Oliver and Genevieve, who had been joined by Mariana and Caterina on the first arrival of the pirate erew, saw the scene above described enacted, with horror easily conceived. But no time was to be lost. The young man acted with promptitude and decision. The three women were lowered by the hollow of the tree to the cave below; and then, after replacing the board and mat, he hastened to the cascade, where the other entrance was concealed by thick brushwood. Oliver was armed with sword, gun, and pistols, and felt all the more confident on this account. But he paused not an instant on his way, and in ten minutes was hunting for the narrow hole. Guided by the directions of Genevieve, it was soon found; and the young man crept in. The passage was long and low, and he had to crawl on his hands and knees; but he soon discovered a light. "Is that you?" "It is I." And the roof suddenly rising, Oliver stood in a vast grotto, extending a long way into the bowels of the mountain. Guns and pistols, and bags of bread, and small kegs of pork, showed that the old pirate had guarded against a siege. "My God! said Genevieve, who was pale and terror-stricken," my father "Shall not perish, I am certain. The crew are not unanimous. Besides, the Spaniards are there; and during the night they shall be armed.” "Please God you speak true!" "Bill Smith is a villain," said Mariana; "but Smith the carpenter is a good soul. He warned the captain of something of this kind this morning. But Simon Morris was proud and obstinate.” “And this man ?” "Is he who has charge of the bower." "That alone gives me more than hope," said Oliver, who saw how heartbroken his cousin was. “Will you defend this cave against all comers?" "We will!" was the firm reply. "You have arms ?" "Yes! And we can roll these barrels to the mouth here. None can enter but one at a time; and two weak women, to defend their honour, can do much.” "I am a Spaniard !" said Mariana, proudly. “None shall enter here." "I rely on you. Let none come in who say not 'Oliver,' or whose voices you know not." "Until you come, none shall enter here," replied Genevieve. "Adieu, then, my dear cousin!-Have faith and hope, and fear nothing. All, then, shall go well. Adien!" "Be cautions," whispered the young girl, in a low tone; "for my father's sake-for mine!" Oliver kissed her hand; and, followed by Caterina, crept forth into the open air. It was night. The forest lay in profound stillness. Not a sound was heard, save the never-dying murmur of the waters of the cascade; while, there being no moon, the darkness was profound. Caterina laid her finger on the Englishman's lips, and, stooping low, listened on the ground. After about a minute, she rose. "I hear no sound near," said she. "Now, follow me. Not a word until we gain a place I will show you. I know the road well." Oliver obeyed, and the pair passed silently through the forest for about ten minutes, when they began to ascend a slope. It was so deeply shaded with trees that they could scarcely walk upright, and Oliver several times stooped as low as he did when entering the cave. Suddenly they stood by a window, and Oliver saw that they were at the back of the bower. "Look!" said Caterina. The young man looked in. Simon Morris and the Spanish officers were lying in the two first rooms. Simon Morris was alone in the first, while the others lay almost in a heap in the other. The door between them and the riotons guard was closed. "I will enter!" said Oliver. Hand me in my gun, and then follow." The young man passed through the open window, and having taken his gun after him, raised the flickering lamp, and, kneeling, gazed at Simon Morris. The pirate looked perfectly foolish with astonishment. The presence of Caterina re-assured him. Simon Morris," whispered the young man, drawing forth his knife, and cutting at the cords, "be cautious. I am Oliver Mildmay, nephew of your wife Alice, and cousin of Genevieve. I was wrecked yes terday on this island, and opened the eyes of your child. I come to save you from your accursed crew; quite sure that now no words of mine are needed to make you leave this life--for your own-your child's sake.” "Oliver Mildmay!-That boy whom Alice so often spoke of?" said Simon Morris, sitting up with difficulty, and utterly overwhelmed with astonishment. The same. But we have no time for talk." "True!" said Simon Morris, seizing his hand. "Boy, answer me one question." 66 "I know it. I love your child; and, if you leave this life, ask her of you for my wife." "Enough!" said Simon Morris, standing erect, and wringing his hand. "My wife's last wish is accomplished. Boy, I am in your hands! Aid me but to recover my authority, and punish Paolo, and the next night I fly this island. My destiny accomplished." "I will do all you ask." "Give me one of your pistols, and follow," said the pirate, entering the next room. 'Gentlemen, I promise you life and liberty, if you swear to obey me implicitly for twenty-four hours. At the end of that time you shall return to your ships, and all your men; on condition that I, my daughter, this young man, Caterina, Mariana, and such as choose to follow, are taken as passengers to such port as we shall point out." The venerable Spanish commander at once acquiesced, as did all his officers; and, Caterina having made them swear upon the cross, they were freed. CHAPTER IX. SIMON MORRIS'S REVENGE. The Spaniards were six. Simon took the heavy cutlass from Oliver, and gave similar arms to the Spaniards from a secret cupboard, while Caterina took the guns; she had re-assured the pirate about Genevieve. Oliver retained his pistols. When all were ready, Simon Morris burst open the door, just as Smith, the carpenter, cried aloud— "I tell you, Captain Simon is worth twenty Spanish cut-throats like Paolo." "Ay! ay!" thundered the pirate; "and you told me truly, Smith, this morning. Is there any knave here who dares now to back that rascal Paolo?" Not a man moved. The sight of their commander, backed by seven men, quite overwhelmed them. "Go! I forgive you all. But, up and be doing. Take your arms!-What fear I?-Take them, I say, and to your duty. Remember, that of the fifty who aided Paolo, twelve shall be hung like dogs. It is for you to decide who are to be of the twelve." The confidence displayed by Morris, with his terrible threat, had the desired effect. The men thought him more powerful than he was, while all were averse to hanging. They solemnly swore to be true. "Good!" cried Simon. "And now to arms. We are more then twenty. Where is Paolo ?" in "Hang the rope on yonder tree!" continued Morris. 'Do you really mean to hang him?" said Oliver, a low tone. "I do! No words. It is necessary." Two men went out, and fastened a cord to a tree near the bower. It was high and strong, and a table was placed under it. But though we might harrow our readers by the details of the scene, and by the cries, and speeches, and implorings of the wretch, the subject is too horrible to be pleasant to either writer or reader. In a quarter of an hour more, the guns of the bower were signaling a general summons to all the pirates. The bower was lit up. Torches had been fixed around the whole place, while a huge pile of brushwood was heaped behind the body of Paolo, which still hung on the tree. Simon stood on the terrace, surrounded by his band. The pirates soon obeyed the summons; and when all were collected, the captain gave a signal, and a sudden blaze of dry wood showed the form of Paolo. A universal thrill of horror pervaded the whole group. "There is the reward of treachery!" said Simon Morris, in a thundering tone. "I had meant twelve to share his fate; but the evil lay with him. Recollect that Simon Morris is not to be killed by steel or bullet, and that I laughed at the rope with which that wretch bound me. The same is now his death-knot. Go! To-morrow night let the Alice be ready for sea, with Smith's watch. Another cruise, boys, and this folly will be forgotten!" The pirates gave a loud cheer, and moved away, silent with horror and alarm. The death of Paolo had struck the boldest with dismay. "Gentlemen," continued Morris, turning to Oliver and the Spaniards, "you are my prisoners. Retire "Gone in search of your daughter," said Smith, the to the inner room of the bower; your ransoms shall carpenter. "For what purpose?" "He talks of killing the father, and marrying the daughter." "The unhanged villain!" said the pirate, in a low tone; "but he shall pay for it." "Who goes there?" cried a sentry placed without. Captain Paolo," replied the voice of Bill Smith, "and his worthy lieutenant." "Advance, and give the countersign." Genevieve," said Paolo, in a surly tone; "but where she is hid, I can't say." At this instant he crossed the threshold with Bill Smith; and both were disarmed and pinioned before they could offer the least resistance. "Mercy!" cried the Spanish pirate, whose whole courage forsook him the instant he found himself in the power of Simon Morris, be discussed to-morrow." Before any objection could be made, Oliver and the Spaniards were disarmed, and thrust into the bower, where they remained, under heavy guard, cursing their folly in trusting the word of a pirate. That night, and all next day, they were left alone, amply supplied with food, but wholly unable to communicate with any one. Oliver was profoundly moved. "I could not have believed it," he said to the Spaniards. "I thought the man touched." "Born a dog, die a dog," muttered one of the young officers. "But the danger, the constant dread of such a life!" cried Oliver; and he added to himself, "Poor Genevieve! I had hoped a better fate for thee." "Gentlemen," said Simon Morris, entering suddenly, "I give you five minutes to be ready. Your baggage is all on board. My faithful crew are ready. A dozen of my men, and six of yours, untainted, are all I could muster. I had hoped to go away with your vessel; but your men are all bewitched. bauchery have made them rank pirates." Oliver and the Spaniards seemed to awake from semideath. They made no observation. ́ The ruffian never spoke again. The cutlass of the pirate captain laid him low. "Pull, for your lives, boys! "cried Oliver, as his fatherDrink and de-in-law leaped into the launch. The men struck out, as a discharge of pistols and guns warned them of the coming danger. Bill Smith had discovered the absence of the Alice, and armed fifty men to capture their captain. He was a minute too late. "Genevieve is on board," whispered Simon. "Had I acted otherwise, my men would have suspected me. My death is certain if they find I am flying. Be ready for a fearful struggle if we are tracked." Oliver pressed the pirate's hand in silence, and the party started. Smith, the carpenter, was on board; but two ex-pirates were with Simon. They had also been rewarded by the booty of years, and had privately helped themselves to much of their comrades' store. Simon led the way; and it was about midnight when the party gained the beach. "Jenny!" said Simon; and a large launch drew in-shore, while Oliver saw the sails of the Alice in the offing about a quarter of a mile off. All went rapidly into the boat save Simon Morris, who was preparing to step in too, when the flash of a pistol startled the whole party. "Treachery!" roared Bill Smith, who had followed them. Come on, boys! Our captain is deserting us with all his treasure." In an hour more, all sign of the Devil's Island had faded in the distance. About six months after, Oliver Mildmay and Genevieve Morris were united in marriage, in one of the English settlements in America. On the same day, Simon Morris and Catherine Preston (she had taken an English name on becoming a Protestant) were also united. Oliver and Genevieve were patient and fall of faith, and they at last brought the pirate to repentance. The task was rough, and needed at least six years of long struggling; but grace came unto him, and Simon Morris died at a good old age, fully convinced of his former sin, and mourned by his faithful and devoted Catherine, who also sheltered Mariana. The young couple prospered. Oliver sold his estate in Jamaica, and settled in the colony, which was to become a great nation, and where the Mildmays have since increased and multiplied. P. B. St. J. A DAUGHTER'S GIFT TO HER FATHER SHE lov'd her father, and look'd up to him ON HIS BIRTHDAY. Not alone She heard her father of his birthday speak, "Twas thus she watch'd him, though he knew it not; She form'd a wish, a secret of her own, Now, each day, At last she fix'd, Fix'd at the full extent of all her wealth- "Twas not the intrinsic value of the gift ANDREW PARK. FEW newspaper readers now require to be informed lean cattle, that wandered, and grazed as best they that the tenant-right is an article of social faith among could, over the rest of the property. the peasantry of Ulster. Whether that trusted claim Such was the great house of Dungloe in the days derives its chief strength from the long-established ha- of its pristine glory, when its owner was Dennis bits of Irish landlords to grant no leases, and take ac-O'Cleery. Dennis believed that the house had been count of improvements only by raising the rent, or from the primitive belief in the cultivator's proprietorship of the soil on which his care and energy have been expended, let legislative philosophy decide; but, like all popular ideas, it has a much firmer hold on the minds of the people than any statute is likely to have, at least for some time, in Ireland. The legal security of a lease is not considered half so sacred as the right of a family who have lit the hearth and tilled the fields for more than que generation. Provincial superstition has been even enlisted in its cause, and the following legend on the subject has still many believers in the half-reclaimed wilds of Donegal. built, and the farm leased, by one of his ancestors, when the last of the O'Donnels ruled in Donegal; but traditions existed regarding a family tree which had grown up long before that period, consisting of successive O'Cleerys, who traced their origin to the Halls of Tara, and had been bards and scribes to the Princes of Tyrconnel; and in later times the family had occupied the spot under English lords, and sundry renewals of tenure, till Dennis became the representative. To be the descendant of scholars and poets, noue could have less pretensions to their accomplishments. Dennis could neither read nor write; and of all this The western division of that extensive county is changeful world he knew nothing beyond the limits of known to Government surveyors as the Barony of Boy-Boylagh, which had been the bounds of his travels; and lagh. A dreary and poverty-stricken tract has it been he belonged to a class of character by no means uncom for ages, consisting of moorland, marsh, and fell, mon among the Irish peasantry. Simple, good-natured, washed on two sides by the broad Atlantic-with many and indolent, Dennis would have taken any advice but a rocky island and sand-barred bay, where ships are a wise one, especially if it happened to interfere with wrecked, and herrings come in shoals; and inhabited the established habits of his life, which were, in short, by an almost Celtic population, who, in scarcity of to talk as much and do as little as possible. Moreworldly goods, and carelessness regarding their provi-over, he was pions, after the fashion of his people, sion, might vie with any people on earth, especially in boundlessly charitable, given to hospitality and the the seaward parishes. Pre-eminent among them in these observation of holidays, liberal to the church on all respects is that of Templecroan, the neighbouring dis-occasions, and apt to blend his daily conversation with trict to Guidore, the scene of Lord George Hill's cele-ejaculatory prayers, the effect of which sometimes brated improvements, some faint imitations of which bordered on the profane. have now appeared among its many bogs and lakes; He had married in early life, and true to the proverb but at the period of our story, about fifty years ago,regarding birds of a feather," &c., for his helpmate such doings were yet unimagined in the Barony of Boylagh. was the very counterpart of her husband. Their family consisted of four sons and three daughters, who, as their father was wont to remark, "wint mostly in pairs.' The two eldest, Phelim and Pat, were described in that locality as "going boys," being somewhat over active, and given to fun and frolic, which they always shared together; while their younger brothers, Con and Laurence, were no less constant companions in the field or fishing-boat, where their calmer energies found scope. There then stood, on a rough, rising ground near the hamlet of Dungloe (the only resemblance of a town or village yet to be found for many a mile in that dreary district, and sitnated, as county maps can show, at the head of a shallow bay on the northern side of Templecroan), a long, low cottage, popularly known by an Irish term signifying the great house, in right of its superiority to the surrounding cabins. The oldest neighbour couldn't tell when that dwelling was built; The muslin caps and scarlet mantles of Una and and the fashion of its construction was strangely primi-Honor had often been envied by the belles of Dungloe; tive. The walls were thick and mossy, the roof heavy and all were robust, handsome boys and girls, includwith successive coats of thatch, the gables high and ing the eldest daughter, who was usually designated, pointed, and in one of them, which fronted the hamlet, by both the family and their neighbours, as was the only door of entrance or egress in the mansion. Biddy, the craythur." It gave immediate access to the principal apartment where all family and social affairs were transacted; and beyond, in regular order of succession, were the dormi-, sory, granary, and cow-house, all included under the same sheltering roof. There was neither garden nor orchard; but around lay a large, wild farm, the cultivation of which was carried on in patches according to || convenience, with unvarying crops of barley and potatoes, which broad earthen fences, covered with furze and fern, scarcely protected from the hardy sheep and 'Poor To have seen Biddy at home, in those days, would have illustrated at once the cause and import of that appellation. While her sisters enjoyed themselves at neighbouring dance or distant fair-while they gossiped with their confidants, or chatted with the staff of suitors, duly at twilight's fall assembled in O'Cleery's kitchen-and while their mother by turns descanted and smoked over their triumphs, all the household drudgery, and a large portion of out-door work, fell to Biddy's share, |