to hide, and to screen him from the search that would otherwise have been instituted, his friends spread a report of his death, and, assembling in mournful procession, followed his supposed corpse to the grave.

"Paradise Lost" was begun two years before the restoration of Charles the Second, and finished about three years after that event. It formed his solace and occupation during that period of his life when his name was held up to public scorn, and his means of support withdrawn. But his sharpest sorrows arose from the undutiful conduct of his two elder daughters, who seem to have been destitute alike of affection and pity. It was this unkindness which induced him to marry a third time, and the memory of the gentle lady, Elizabeth Minshall, who was willing to become his wife, deserves to be had in grateful remembrance by the admirers of the great poet; for she alleviated his sufferings, soothed his cares, and proved to him a tender and affectionate wife.

How often did the words of Galileo recur to his mind, about the difference between using one's own hands and eyes, and those of another! He found it necessary to treasure his compositions in his memory until chance afforded him the aid of some friendly transcriber. A lively illustration is afforded of these difficulties in the postscript to a Latin letter addressed to an accomplished German: "Let me obtain from you this favour, that if you find any parts of this incorrectly written, you will impute it to the boy who writes for me, who is utterly ignorant of Latin, and to whom I am forced (wretchedly enough) to repeat every single syllable that I dictate." But while those eyes, seemingly perfect as ever, saw nothing, the mind grew boundless and perfect in vision. And with this man, long used to mastery, at last, "neither blindness, nor gout, nor age, nor penury, nor domestic

afflictions, nor political disappointments, nor abuse, nor proscription, nor neglect, had power to disturb his sedate and majestic patience. The strength of his mind overcame every calamity." These are the words of Macaulay, and he adds, “We can almost fancy we are visiting him in his small lodgings; that we see him sitting at the old organ, beneath the faded green hangings; that we can read in the lines of his noble countenance the proud and mournful history of his glory and his affliction."

Down the years to us is echoing his poem on his blindness, with these closing words:

"Doth God require day labour, light denied?

I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts; who best

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest:

They also serve, who only stand and wait."

The first edition of the "Paradise Lost" was published in 1665, the author receiving, as is well known, the sum of five pounds for his immortal work, with a further condition of receiving fifteen pounds more, should it reach a third edition. Whatever be the feelings of sorrow or indignation with which his admirers may now regard this fact, it is to the honour of his countrymen that, in defiance of his numerous enemies, its sale was rapid, and the admiration it excited almost universal. Some of the most eminent men of his time addressed to him the highest "eulogies; and its first anouncement to the world was worthy of its pre-eminent worth. Sir John Denman, a man distinguished as a soldier, a senator, and a poet, entered the House of Commons with a proof-sheet of Milton's work, wet from the press, and exclaimed, "This

is part of the noblest poem that ever was written in any language or in any age." And Dryden's exclamation on first seeing it was no less pithy: "This man cuts us all out, and the ancients too!

"

Ere the first edition of the poem had been sold, its author was "numbered with the mighty dead." With a dissolution so easy that it was unperceived by those attending him, he closed a life, clouded indeed by uncommon and various calamities, yet ennobled by the constant exercise of great virtues and rare endowments.

In the Church of St. Giles's, Cripplegate, in the presence of a large assemblage of his countrymen, England's noblest poet was committed to the dust, calm in the Christian's sure and certain hope of a blessed immortality."

1 pamphlet, a small book, consisting of a few sheets not bound. 2 epic, a great poem treating of some heroic deed or deeds in a lofty and noble style. 3 alleviate, to make light; relieve; soften. recur, to come back; return. eulogies, praises.

5

In order that the reader may better understand those incidents of our narrative which we are about to relate, it may be well to say a word of the geographical features of the region in which they occurred. At the southern extremity of the American continent is a cluster of islands, which are dark, sterile, rocky, and most of the year covered with snow. Evergreens relieve the aspect

of sterility in places that are a little sheltered, and there is a meagre vegetation in spots that serve to sustain animal life. The first strait which separates this cluster of islands from the main is that of Magellan, through which vessels occasionally pass, in preference to going farther south. Then comes Terra del Fuego, which is much the largest of all the islands. To the southward of Terra del Fuego lies a cluster of many small islands, which bear different names, though the group farthest south of all-which it is usual to consider as the southern termination of the noble continent of America, but which is not on the continent at all-is known by the appropriate appellation of the Hermits. If solitude and desolation and want, and a contemplation of some of the sublimest features of this earth, can render a spot fit for a hermitage, these islands are very judiciously named. The one that is farthest south contains the cape itself, which is marked by a ragged pyramid of rock, placed there by nature, a never-tiring sentinel of the war of the elements. Behind this cluster of the Hermits it was that Stimson advised his officer to take refuge against the approaching gale, of which the signs were now becoming obvious and certain. Roswell's motive, however, for listening to such advice was less to find a shelter for his 2schooner than to get rid of Daggett. For the gale he cared but little, since he was a long way from the ice, and could stretch off the land to the southward into a waste of waters that seemed interminable. There are islands to the southward of Cape Horn, and a good many of them too, though none very near. It is now known, also, by means of the toil and courage of various seamen, including those of the persevering and laborious Wilkes-the most industrious and the least rewarded of all the navigators who have ever worked for the human race in this danger

ous and exhausting occupation-that a continent is there also; but, at the period of which we are writing, the existence of the Shetlands and Palmer's Land was the extent of the discoveries in that part of the ocean. After pacing the quarter-deck a few minutes, when he quitted the forecastle as mentioned, Roswell Gardiner again went forward among the men.

"You are quite sure that this high peak is the Horn, Stimson?" he observed, inquiringly.

"Certain of it, sir. There is no mistaking such a place, which, once seen, is never forgotten."

"It agrees with the charts and our reckoning, and I may say it agrees with our eyes also. Here is the Pacific Ocean, plain enough, Mr. Hazard."

"So I think, sir. We are at the end of America. This heavy long swell is an old acquaintance, though I never was in close enough to see the land hereabouts before."

“It is fortunate we have one trusty hand on board who can stand pilot. Stimson, I intend to go in and anchor, and I shall trust to you to carry me into a snug berth."

66

"I'll do it, Captain Gardiner, if the weather will permit it," returned the seaman, with an unpretending sort of confidence that spoke well for his ability.

Preparations were now commenced in earnest to come to. It was time that some steady course should be adopted, as the wind was getting up, and the schooner was rapidly approaching the land. In half an hour the Sea Lion was bending to a little gale, with her canvas reduced to close-reefed mainsail and foresail, and the 5bonnet off her 'jib. The sea was fast getting up, though it came in long and mountain-like. Roswell dreaded the mist, Could he pass through the narrow channels that