I've Been Thinking; or, the Secret of Success

That evening, while the tempest was roaring around his dwelling, he sat alone in the room where his family usually congregated, Mrs. Rutherford and the children having retired to Hettie's apartment, to give what cheer they could to the sick room during the wild howling of the storm. His thoughts, busied with the intelligence which had that day been communicated to him, and agitated between hope and fear, were devising all manner of plans for the recovery of documents of so much value, and the surest way to bring the dangerous men concerned in the transaction to justice, when a loud knocking against an outer door reached his ear. Thinking it might be some benighted stranger, he hurried to admit him, as soon as possible, to a shelter from the peltings of a pitiless storm.

Opening the door, he requested the stranger to hasten in, not waiting to inquire who he was, or what he wanted. The first glance, however, as he turned towards his visitor, made him regret that he had been so hasty; for David Cross, with a wild and haggard countenance, stood before him. Mr. Rutherford had no reason to think that his errand was a good one, but he was resolved to treat him with forbearance. David spoke first—

'A terrible storm, sir.'

'Your business must be urgent, Mr. Cross, that drives you out through such a night.'

'It is urgent, sir. Is Miss Hettie in a condition to be seen?'

'She is not, except by those with whom she feels perfectly at rest.'

'I must see her, Mr. Rutherford, if such a thing is possible. I have done her great injustice, and I wish to make all the atonement in my power. As you value the future peace of an unhappy man, I beg you, sir, to allow me but a moment's interview.'

'It cannot be, Mr. Cross; your presence in her chamber would, in all probability, throw her again into the same horrible condition from which she has but just recovered; and a relapse would be fatal.'

Cross looked away from Mr. Rutherford, and fixed his eye on the door. He seemed in an agony, for occasionally a tremor shook his whole frame, and Mr. Rutherford thought he saw him wipe away a tear. For some moments neither spoke. At length turning, and with a beseeching look addressing Mr. Rutherford,

'Will you allow me, sir, to send a line to her; perhaps she may wish to see me.'

'I will, sir; but I am not at all sure that you will be permitted to see her, even if she consents.'

He wrote a few lines, and handing it to Mr. Rutherford—

'If she refuses to see me after she has read that, so be it; but I will not then be to blame for the consequences which may follow.'

Hettie read the little note, or, more properly, it was read to her. It ran thus: 'Hettie, I want to ask your forgiveness, and to tell you that I have discovered the paper.—D. Cross.'

'I think he had better come in,' said Hettie; 'there is business of great consequence, which it is in his power to communicate.'

As David Cross entered the room, he paused a moment as his eye fell upon the emaciated countenance of the still lovely girl. He then slowly approached the bed, threw himself on his knees, and wept like an infant. As soon as he could speak—

'Hettie,' said he, 'can you forgive me for my cruel wrong?'

'I have forgiven you long since, David; and have prayed that you may be forgiven of God.'

'I can make but little reparation for the past; I have done all I could. That paper is in the hands of Michael Foster; he holds it to extort money from my father. To-morrow night a plan is laid to wrest it out of Foster's power, and then it will no doubt be destroyed. Measures must therefore be taken in the course of to-morrow, or it will probably be too late. Spare my father, if you can; as for myself, Hettie, I leave you now for ever. You and I will probably never meet again.'

Hettie cast a look of kindness at him as he left the room. Mr. Rutherford had witnessed the scene at the bedside, and his feelings were much softened towards the young man.

'You do not mean to go away while the tempest rages thus?'

'The storm is of little consequence to me, sir. I have communicated to Hettie some things which concern you deeply; and all I have to say is, that whatever steps you may take on the information she gives you, cannot be taken too soon.' Saying this, he left the house.

CHAPTER XXX.

A change from terra firma to the restless ocean is sometimes pleasant, even for its novelty, if nothing else—although none who try the experiment but are completely satisfied that, so far as everything connected with comfort is concerned, or real quiet of mind or body, there is nothing like the solid earth. I must, however, ask my readers to risk themselves with me for a short time on the ocean, and perhaps they will the more readily do so, when I tell them that we are to be on board the good ship Lady Washington, and under the immediate command of our favorite Captain Sam.

Those who see our ships only as they lie along side of the busy wharves, and are either discharging or receiving their freight, have but a poor idea of the neatness which the deck of a well-regulated vessel presents in her usual sailing trim. It may be that our Captain was peculiar about this matter, but every thing was so snugly stowed away, and securely fastened, that to all appearance nothing would be displaced, should some sudden freak of old ocean roll her bottom upwards. Her deck was flush from stem to stern, and the gangway on each side was clean and clear; every hand on deck was actively employed in the performance of some duty, but it could be seen that they were intent upon some object more engrossing than that in which their hands were busied, for wistful glances were cast towards their young commander, who was standing near the helm, and, with marks of anxiety on his countenance, eyeing through a glass a distant speck upon the ocean.

'Mr. Barnum, this breeze is not going to last; it's a dead calm already a mile to starboard. Hail the maintop; that fellow must be asleep.'

The chief mate—for it was he who was thus addressed—placing his two brawny hands so as to form a speaking trumpet, raised his face aloft, and sent up a blast that would have aroused no common slumberer.

'Hallo, maintop!'

'Ay, ay, sir.'

'What do you make her?'

'Can't make her at all.'

At this reply, the mate sprang into the shrouds with the agility of a squirrel, and was soon far up amid the complicated rigging, and seizing the glass from the one who had been using it, made a satisfactory examination, and then tumbling down as rapidly as he had ascended, was again beside his Captain.

'It is difficult making her out, for she has got her three masts in one; but she looms large, and from the rig should judge she's a bull-dog, with at least two rows of teeth.'

'Ship, ahoy!' from aloft.

'What quarter?'

'On the larboard beam, and coming down with a spanking breeze.'

'Ship, ahoy!!'

'Ay, ay, we see her; there's no mistake now, Captain Oakum; we are in the midst of them.'

'Call the crew aft, Mr. Barnum.'

Soon every sailor on board was standing near the quarter-deck, and, with respectful bearing, ready to hear the will of their Captain. He immediately stepped up before them, and casting his eye over their hardy and cheerful countenances, explained in a few brief sentences the peculiarity of their situation, and what he should require of them.

'We are in the midst of our enemies; three of their frigates are now in sight, and bearing down upon us. We are bound for our port, and shall go there if we can; it will be no child's play, but I am exposed to equal danger with the rest of you. If we succeed, a handsome reward awaits us, and the satisfaction of having done our duty; if we are so unlucky as to fall into their hands, a prison or a life cruise in a man-of-war will be the game on the other side; but if you are all resolved for home or a watery grave, let me know it.'

A loud and hearty huzza burst spontaneously from the whole crew; and at a signal from the mate they tumbled back to their quarters with an alacrity that showed they were ready for any sport their Captain chose.

A steady breeze was yet bearing the vessel along at a moderate pace, and it could be plainly seen that two of the ships were becalmed, as they were fading away in the distance; from them, therefore, but little was to be apprehended, while the one on the larboard beam was rapidly gaining upon them.

Captain Oakum now sprang into the mizzen chains, and marking with intense interest the surface of the ocean, the working of the clouds, and the situation of the different ships—

'Mr. Barnum—'

'Ay, ay, sir;' and the mate was in an instant by his side.

'I think, that by laying her course due north, we shall carry the wind longer with us, and give them a wider berth.'

The necessary order was given, and the Lady Washington was soon ploughing her way in the direction required.

'The breeze is going, Captain; that ship gains on us fast.'

'I see she does, but the probability is we shall both be becalmed soon; she won't hold the wind long after it leaves us; you had better have the boats unshipped, Mr. Barnum, and ready for launching.'

The right good-will with which the sailors sprang to obey each command, gave satisfactory evidence of what their Captain might depend upon in the hour of extremity.

He felt assured that, whatever forty good men could do, at any risk, would be done, but the responsibility of every movement, and of the result, rested upon himself alone. He had provided his vessel with a few guns of large calibre, and one of these occupied the after cabin—it was a long twenty-four pounder. A large port had been made for it in the stern, which was, however, at present closely fastened; four more of various sizes were stationed at different parts of the main deck, and a plentiful supply of pikes and cutlasses was snugly stowed away in readiness for a sudden call. All these he thought might be of service to him in an emergency, but his main dependence was upon the sailing qualities of his ship; he had tested her well, and felt a confidence which, perhaps, most young captains do, that nothing could outstrip his vessel in a good breeze.

Although prepared for the worst, he had not heard of hostilities having been begun until nearing home. A French brig gave him the intelligence, and also that a blockading squadron was strictly guarding the port for which he was bound, part of which he had thus unexpectedly encountered; and now the ability of his ship, and the skill of her commander, were to be put to the test.

Scarcely had the order been executed for unlashing the boats, when the sails flapped heavily against the masts.

'It has gone sooner than I expected. Launch the boats, Mr. Barnum, and let them be manned to their full capacity; if we can move the ship but a few lengths, it may serve to take us out of the reach of their guns.'

With incredible celerity a row of boats was strung ahead of the ship, and every man pulling with determined energy.

'This calm ain't for nothing; I'm of opinion, sir; there's foul weather brewing, depend on it'—and the mate directed the Captain's attention to the threatening aspect of the clouds in the eastern sky. 'We shall have something to contend with soon, besides the enemy's guns, Captain Oakum; that long streak of light under them black clouds, and those scuds flying off and streaking up so fast, and spreading themselves out so, is no good sign; there'll be a north-easter, and a smasher when it comes.'

'Let it come, Mr. Barnum; any thing but lying here and not able to stir, and that frigate almost ready to fire into us.'

The only hope, indeed, which our Captain could indulge, was that the wind might die away as suddenly with their pursuer as it had with them; but her sails were yet well filled, and, of course, she was gaining upon them every moment; the slow and almost imperceptible motion which his own ship made by the power of oars, would have been discouraging to one who was not buoyed up with the consciousness of doing all that was then in his power to do to escape the trouble which had come upon them. He could not control the winds; he therefore neither cursed them, nor himself, nor the noble ship that was bearing down upon them; but he watched her advance with great anxiety, and would turn his gaze occasionally from this object of interest to the ominous-looking clouds that were gathering in heavier masses every moment—a hurricane, or something very near it, would be a great relief; any thing that would give him a chance to bear his much-loved ship out of the immediate reach of her powerful adversary.

'It's a gone case with us, Captain Oakum; her guns will soon be able to reach us.'

'If she keeps the breeze much longer. Call Derrick, will you, Mr. Barnum.'

John Derrick, who now made his appearance at the call of the mate, held the title on board ship of the old man-of-war's-man. He was the only person of advanced age among the crew; he was about fifty, rather taller than was necessary for a sailor, and of slender make. His head on the top was bald, and the locks which hung from the lower part were long and thin; his neck and chin were concealed by a thick bushy beard, very dark, and making a strong contrast with his pale countenance. Sam had selected him for his skill in gunnery, as well as for his ability as a sailor, and in an emergency, felt more confidence in his opinion than in either of his officers.

'Do you think she is near enough to trouble us, John?' and the Captain looked significantly at the frigate.

'She don't think so, Captain Oakum, or we should hear from her; but I've been on the look out a little, and unless her guns are carronades—ay, ay, she speaks now;' and all at once a column of white smoke belched forth from her bow port, and a ball clipped the glassy surface of the water, passing the whole length of the vessel.

'That tells the story, Captain.'

'I suppose it is a gentle hint for us to let them know who we are, before they give us a benefit; so we may as well show them the stars and stripes, Mr. Barnum, and our boys will pull the better when they see them aloft, in the place of that French gewgaw.'

A hearty cheer burst from the whole crew as they saw their native standard flying at the mast-head, and they bent themselves to their oars, until the boat nearest the ship was at times almost out of water.

'Now we shall take it, Captain; she's rounding to; her whole broadside will be the next salute.'

Captain Oakum felt, in all its force, the danger of their situation. In an instant he was at the bow of his ship.

'Pull away, boys—lay to—every foot tells now.' The energy which he threw into his voice, as he gave out these brief directions, added fresh vigor to their willing hearts and pull away it was. As the frigate swayed round, two guns in quick succession sent forth their messengers of death, and evidently intended not as a compliment, for the aim was direct, both striking the ship, although doing but little damage. Scarce, however had they congratulated themselves on their escape, when a volume of smoke enveloped the deck of the frigate, and the waters were ploughed by a storm of bullets; but one of them reached the ship, the others sinking in the deep at her stern. A loud shout went forth from the Lady Washington, as it was now manifest that she was beyond the reach of harm.

'Will you allow me, Captain, just to give them a try with the Long Tom?' said Derrick, stepping up, and touching his cap respectfully; 'just for the honor of the flag, sir.'

'Not yet, John; we must save our fire until we shall be more sure of our mark. You shall have a chance soon, my good fellow, for I see that they are manning their boats for a visit to us; we must give them the best welcome in our power.'

It was evident now that the time of trial was at hand; for two boats, well manned, were seen pulling towards them; the sea was unruffled as a lake, and nothing to prevent their rapid progress.

As Sam did not intend, under such circumstances, to give up his noble vessel and her valuable cargo without a struggle, each gun was loaded, the men were called in from the boats, pikes were brought out and laid in readiness, and each sailor who was not aloft buckled on his cutlass. The faces of the young men assumed a determined yet cheerful expression, and not one on board but felt that the stripes should fly as long as his arm could wield a weapon.

The sky, also, was becoming black with clouds, and spreading the gloom of night around them; and the long swell that occasionally lifted their vessel, told that already the tempest was doing its work in the distance; every sail aloft was taken in and well secured, and suitable preparation made for the emergency.

'They are calculating, I guess, sir, to finish the job, and make a harbor on board the Lady Washington, afore the squall comes on, or surely no commander in his senses would send boats off with such a mess as any one can see is brewing yonder.

'Now John, is your time: take your hands and get all ready. Don't open your port until I pass you the word, and then make sure work with them.'

'Ay, ay, sir.'

And down he tumbled, and the men allotted to him, with as good will as though piped to dinner. As the boats neared the ship, it could be seen that the officers were urging on to greater speed: and good cause had they, for the roar of the coming tempest had reached them, and but an alternative was now left; they must either secure their prize quickly, or perish amid the wild waves: a return in their open boats to their own ship was impossible.

Captain Oakum saw that the time for an effort had arrived.

'All ready below, John?'

'All ready, sir.'

'Now is your time; let them have it.'

The ship trembled as the engine of destruction belched forth its deadly messenger; the thick smoke curled up over the stern, for a moment obscuring the view; but the next, a loud shout came up from below, and was echoed through the ship. Captain Oakum almost shuddered as he beheld what execution had been done, for the whole crew of one of the boats was battling with the waters, while their companions in the remaining boat were using their utmost exertions to rescue the living and the dying from the wreck of the other. But there was not a moment to spare to look at friend or foe, for the blast of the tempest came sweeping over them in its might, and each man flew to his post at the swift word of his commander, and was prepared to meet the contest with the stormy elements. As the gale struck the ship, the sails flew out with a report like the sudden burst of thunder, and the yielding ship lay over with her bulwarks to the water's edge; a moment she seemed pressed down by a weight that must whelm her in the deep, and then, recovering her balance, gracefully she rose to meet the adversary with which a contest for her life was now to be maintained.

'They'll get their deserts now, Captain; those men can never reach their ship in their crowded state.'

'We must save them, Mr. Barnum, if we can; put your helm to lee, and tack ship.'

The gallant vessel bore proudly up against the mighty wind; a moment she seemed to waver in its very eye, and then falling off, and taking its power on her other beam, bore swiftly on towards the enemies who had so lately sought her destruction. As she dashed along to windward of the boat now struggling amid the foaming waves, Captain Oakum seized the trumpet from his mate, and hailed them—

'You can never reach your ship.'

'Not in our present condition,' replied a fine-looking young officer.

'We will do the best we can for you, but leave your arms behind.'

The roar of the tempest forbade any reply; but the officer raised a white handkerchief, and as the ship flew by, a rope was thrown to the boat, and by the united powers of both crews, she was drawn under the lee of the ship. As much care as possible was taken in removing the wounded seamen, and Sam, as yet unused to the horrors of war, felt his heart sicken as he looked at the terrible fruit of his own orders. He felt that there had been a necessity for it, but would gladly have relinquished his own prospective gains by the salvation of his vessel, rather than have heard one groan from the poor mangled sufferers that now lay in agony upon his deck.

The moment the young officer stepped upon the deck, he presented his sword to Captain Oakum.

'It is a singular fortune, sir, that has made me your prisoner; but I cannot mistake the kindness that has brought you to our rescue in a time like this, and when we were seeking your injury.'

'Retain your sword, sir, and your liberty, as well as that of your companion'—a midshipman, who stood beside the Lieutenant, and was preparing to surrender his weapon in like manner—'and of your crew, I only ask your pledge of honor to attempt no rescue while on board my ship. I will do all I can for your safe return, if we outlive this storm.'

Every thing that could be done for the wounded was immediately attended to; a brotherly feeling was at once established between the crew of the Lady Washington and their late enemies, and each seemed to vie with the other in kind attentions.

Successful thus far beyond his hopes, our young Captain now took a station by the helm, and looked upon the scene, and his situation in reference to the vessels from whose power he had feared so much. Far off in the south-east, the frigate from which he had so narrowly escaped was bearing away in an opposite direction to the course she had been pursuing, and far enough off at present to remove all apprehension from her. In the west could be seen the two which had been becalmed, bearing to the south and east, and evidently doing their best to gain an offing from the coast. To preserve himself from a dangerous contiguity, he had two alternatives, either to endeavor to force his way to the north-ward—almost an impossibility, as the wind then held—or to run before the gale, and venture, through the darkness and the storm, to find his way into port. He was perfectly satisfied that his reckonings had been correct, and that he knew his bearings; although to point his bow to land at such a time, with no other guide than his compass and his chart, he felt to be almost a desperate undertaking. He resolved, however, rash as it appeared, to try the dreadful hazard.

As he communicated his determination to his mate, and ordered him to put the ship before the wind—

'It's a harsh night to venture on a lee shore, sir; but your command shall be obeyed.'

The heavy clouds that rolled in huge masses, scarcely higher than the masts of the ship, had hastened the close of day, and gave sure tokens of what the night would be. The coast, however, had been clearly seen before the daylight departed, and soon the hopes and fears which, by turns, were triumphant in the breast of him on whom such immense responsibility rested, would be certain. All danger from armed vessels was now at an end; but his ship was flying on the wings of the wind; the driving clouds above, and the boiling sea beneath and around her. A costly and gallant vessel, a freight of immense value, and a multitude of human beings, were dependent upon the correctness of his judgment and the determination of his will.

Onward and onward, like a chafed charger, rushed the proud ship, her bow at times nearly buried beneath the billows that tumbled before her, and rolled in majestic grandeur by her sides, or rose like mountains at her stern, threatening to whelm her in their deep dark bosom. How like an infant's dream appeared to Sam now all the past experience of his life: every care or sorrow faded into mist before the deep responsibility that weighed upon his heart. The young Lieutenant was not, as may well be supposed, an unconcerned spectator of the passing scene. He had been struck with admiration, not only at the generous conduct of our hero, but at his manly bearing, his prompt and determined action, and the perfect order and discipline that were so clearly manifested in such an hour of trial. He kept a strict eye on the course of the ship, and confirmed, much to the satisfaction of the Captain, the correctness of her bearings.

'The light ought to be seen, however, Captain, by this time—we have been sailing with incredible rapidity, and must be near the land. Can nothing be seen of it yet?'

'I have my ablest seaman on the look-out, but we have no tidings of it yet.'

Captain Oakum left the stern of the ship and placed himself near to the look-out. It was Derrick whom he had especially intrusted with this important duty; although every soul on board might have been included, for not one but kept an eye ranged towards the quarter where it was expected to be seen.

'Any signs of light yet, John?'

'No signs yet, sir; but we must be drawing near land, sir; the roar of the surf can be plainly heard.'

Scarce had the sailor uttered the last sentence, when at the top of his voice he called out,

'Light on the starboard bow, Captain Oakum!'

And as Sam cast his eye in that direction, the first twinkle of the beacon met his view, and in an instant he saw the imminence of their danger.

'Helm to leeward! hard down!' And springing to his station again beside the helmsman, he issued forth his orders to the seamen without waiting to convey them through his mate. With magic speed the sails were braced to meet the new position of the ship, and take the gale upon her beam. Like a thing possessed of consciousness, the noble craft, almost as quick as thought, turned from the roaring surf, and threw the light upon her other quarter. Hope now hung for safety on the strength of her sails and spars. With all the canvas she could carry, it could but be scarcely visible that she made headway. The stout masts bent like whips, and the laboring ship groaned and cracked and trembled as she plunged into the mighty waves, throwing them, through her whole length, high into the air.

'She'll weather it, Captain: if she can hold on so half an hour longer, we are safe.'

The Captain made no reply; that half hour was freighted with consequences of most heart-stirring interest to him, and at no time had he felt so doubtful of what the end might be. His eye was riveted upon the beacon—that token of his danger and his safety too. What thoughts it kindled in his bosom! Oft had he seen it in his boyhood's days, when light of heart he sat with the dear ones of his home, at their old cottage door. Is he again so near them? Is success, prosperity, and honor soon to be fully realized; or disaster, shipwreck, and death? Slowly the light recedes—the struggling ship, battled fiercely by the terrible tempest, still forces her way, and still the good sails and the bending spars hold on and keep her true.

'Don't you think we are far enough north, Captain, to run in?'

'Ease her off slowly, Mr. Barnum, a point or so.'

'She's a noble creature, sir, few ships could have stood it; but I believe you've the luck with you, Captain Oakum.'

'We have had something with us better than good luck, Mr. Barnum. You may venture now, sir; in with her.'

A loud hurra burst from the deck as the light flew past them; and the Lady Washington, bidding adieu to the raging ocean, entered the comparatively quiet waters of the sheltered bay.

CHAPTER XXXI.

When clouds, and darkness, and the driving storm are upon us, we cannot realize that their power is but for a time, and they must give place to sunshine and peace. The beautiful morning that succeeded the tempestuous night recorded in the last chapter, was a surprise indeed to those whose trembling habitations had warned them of its terrible power.

'It has been a hard night, Peter,' said the Commodore, as he stepped forth upon his piazza, and saw the old man busy with the eye-glass, peering across the bright waters of the bay.

'Indeed it has, your honor, and mischief enough done; if you will cast your eye, sir, along the south shore,' handing the glass to the Commodore; 'your honor will see a sight. It's my opinion, sir, that the waters have cleared themselves of everything, and thrown them all bodily on the land.'

'Bless my soul, Peter, what a scene! I fear many lives have been sacrificed yonder, but it must have been more terrible still outside. What is that, Peter? a ship ashore?'

'It is a ship, I believe, your honor, but she's not ashore, sir; there is nothing much but her starn to be seen, but being pretty well acquainted with the bearings hereaway, you see, your honor, the land rises considerably north of the point there, and the trees into the bargain, make quite a bluff to look across, and she would be hid entirely before grounding; the channel runs near the shore, your honor. But she has had a narrow chance, sir, and I see one of her masts is by the board.'

'It is not one of your friends, the blockaders, I hope, Peter? they must have had a lively time of it.'

'If it had only sent them all high and dry, your honor! but I think they must have got a good offing afore the worst on it came; and your honor knows that wind and waves ain't apt to hurt a good ship, if there's no land interference no way: but that ship being there is a puzzle to me, your honor.'

'Well, Peter? let me have my letters and papers in good season this morning.'

'Ay, ay, sir;' and Peter hobbled away towards the town, and the Commodore entered his dwelling with a good appetite for breakfast.

He has just finished his morning repast, when Mr. Rutherford entered his office. He met with a hearty welcome, for the two gentlemen had, since Mr. Rutherford's removal, been on terms of intimacy, although this was the first occasion on which any subject bordering on business matters had been introduced. Mr. Rutherford had resolved in his own mind, during the night past, the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed, and the necessity for prompt and efficient action. He felt the need of counsel, and could think of no one who would be so likely to afford it as Commodore Trysail: for this purpose he had therefore now come.

It will not be necessary for the information of the reader to repeat the substance of his revelation to the Commodore. It was a story, however, which excited much interest in the mind of the old gentleman; he listened with profound attention to the whole recital, and when it was finished, gave his box an extra rap, and politely handing it to Mr. Rutherford—'It is, indeed, a singular event, my dear sir; and you are placed in a situation that requires not only very prompt, but very cautious measures. It would be a righteous thing, no doubt, to bring these men to justice; but the first hint they had of such an attempt would inevitably lead to the destruction of your papers! for although this Mr. Foster might find it a profitable business for him to hold them thus, as a rod over his accomplice Cross, yet he would never be so mad as to risk the discovery of them in his possession: they would be destroyed forthwith, sir. And as to bringing them to justice, it is a very doubtful matter, as it appears to me, whether there is evidence sufficient to convict either of them; they are men, it seems, of some standing in society, if I am correctly informed—none of the immediate actors in the scene are living, or at least to be found. The young man Brown, who is very feeble you say, can only testify to the intention of these men; and his mother does not feel qualified to swear that the unhappy man who made a dying avowal of his guilt in this matter had his full reason.'

'It is all just as you say, Commodore Trysail, and the difficulties of the case presented themselves to my mind as I see they do to yours.'

'And they are serious difficulties, Mr. Rutherford. The probabilities, indeed, would be very much against these men, and the public generally might be convinced that they had committed the nefarious crime; yet after all, a jury sworn to judge according to the evidence brought before them, might not be able to convict them.' The Commodore was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Peter in a state of excitement really alarming; he did not pause as usual at the threshold, and making a low reverence, present his packet of letters and papers, with 'the mail, your honor,' but he bolted straight into the office, crutches and all, threw his hat down on the floor, took his quid from his mouth, and had liked to have dashed that down too; but his senses came to him in season to prevent such an enormity, so he put it back again as quick as possible. He was very much out of breath, and his eyes flashed with a vividness very unusual. The Commodore put his box away, and straightening himself up, looked at Peter with great astonishment, to say the least of it.

'She's come, your honor.' Peter had great difficulty to get the sentence out, his voice trembled so.

'What has come, sir?' The Commodore had evidently departed from his usual temper towards Peter.

'She's come, your honor, spite of blockaders, harricanes and all, God be praised.'

The Commodore began to catch a glimpse of his meaning.

'You do not pretend to say that the ship has come, the—the—Lady Washington?' and the Commodore started to his feet, and looked very fiercely at Peter.

'It's the truth, your honor, she's riding in the outer harbor: the very same we see'd this morning. A boat has just come ashore, your honor, and I've see'd the men, and sich doins as they tell on you never heered, sir. Captain Sam's blowed the enemy, and he's got twenty on 'em prisoners, and he's give 'em leg bail, and has run into port, God bless him, with that north-easter behind him.'

After delivering himself, Peter turned round, and in two jumps was out of the room, and stumping it off at a round rate. The Commodore was somewhat surprised at this last movement, and stepping to the door, was in the act of recalling his excited valet, when he saw him, in a very animated manner, urging along a person dressed in sailor's garb, and whom the experienced eye of the old Commodore immediately recognized as fresh from on board ship; his rolling, unsteady gait showed very clearly that he had not yet got his land legs on.

'Here's a shipmate, your honor,' said Peter, stepping a little in front of his companion, 'that has a word to say to your honor, but he feels backward like.'

'Come in, my boy, come in; are you from the Lady Washington?'

'Just from aboard, sir.'

'Come in, come in, my good fellow.' And the sailor gave a spring up the stoop as though he was about to mount the shrouds, and taking a step into the office, put his hand into his tarred hat, took forth a sealed letter, and handed it to the Commodore, who immediately broke the seal and read as follows.

'Commodore Trysail:

'Respected Sir:—I am very happy to inform you, that through the aid of Divine Providence, I have brought the Lady Washington into port. To prevent her driving on the beach, I was obliged to cut away my masts, but am busy rigging jury masts to enable us to reach the city, as I do not feel it safe to lie in the outer harbor, should the blockading squadron return to their cruising ground. We have received otherwise but trifling damage. I shall do myself the honor of waiting upon you the moment I place my ship in the hands of your consignees.

'The bearer of this will tell you his own story. He has been a fine fellow on board, and whatever may have been his errors in past days, seems to have taken a new turn.

'Your obedient servant,          
'S. Oakum.'

The Commodore, having run over the letter, began to put sundry questions to the sailor, who answered in a style that was perfectly intelligible to the Commodore, but which would have been to ordinary listeners very much like a foreign language. Our friend Peter was an attentive listener. He was standing just without the door, with his head bent over, and turned one side, so as to permit his left ear to have a chance at what was going on. His long queue hung down over his left shoulder, and he was pulling away at it in great earnest. Peter could stand considerable in the way of excitement, but it is not in human nature to stand every thing. To hear such a glowing description of the doings of one that he loved as his own soul, given in a dialect that was sufficient of itself to work up the mind of an old sailor; his feelings got the better of his judgment, and no sooner was the tale over, than, swinging his old hat, he gave three hearty cheers, and stumped it away towards the mansion of Major Morris.

The Commodore had too much of the sailor in him to be surprised at this outbreak of feeling. He smiled as he looked through the door, and saw how Peter was excited, and then addressing himself to the seaman—

'Captain Oakum informs me, my good fellow, that you have something of consequence to say to me on your own account.'

'I have, sir, if you can spare a few moments' leisure.'

The Commodore then excused himself to Mr. Rutherford, and taking the man aside into a private apartment, 'Now, my good fellow, tell me your story without restraint. I am an old sailor, you know, and have lost none of my feelings for a shipmate in trouble.'

'God bless you, sir; but it is an ugly story I have to tell, and if you can have patience to hear me out, you may do with the information what you please.'

Ha then began and gave a short-hand account of his career; that he was born and brought up in a place called Barrens, near by—that he had gotten into bad company, and in the employ of a bad man—that at the instigation of this man, he had been guilty of many improper acts, but that one of these, and the last one in which he had taken a part, had stuck in his heart like a dagger from the moment he did it—that he and his companion, in order to escape punishment in case the crime was found out, and to get away from the man who had exerted his power over them for such shameful purposes, had shipped to sea—that his messmate had taken sick and died, and that his last hours were full of misery on account of what he had done.

'I have therefore, sir, made a clean breast of it all to Captain Oakum, and I am on my way to see the man I once injured so much; but Captain Oakum thought how as you, sir, could tell me what was best to do, and that I might let you know, sir, just the whole on it.'

'But you haven't told me, yet, my man, what this crime you speak of was. You have not murdered any one, surely?'

'God only knows, sir; but we fired a house while they were all asleep; the man who hired us to do it wanted a tin trunk which stood in one of the back rooms. We waited round to have folks give the alarm, but it got well a-burning before any one see it. An old nigger then came and broke the door open with an axe: the house was filled with fire and smoke. The old black fellow—God bless him for a true heart as ever beat in a human body,—went right through the flames, up the stairs, calling as loud as his voice could scream, "Oh my missus and the children!" We hurried into the back room, and feeling about found the trunk, but we had like to have smothered afore we got out; but that old fellow's cry, sir, has rung in my head louder than the loudest noise that the wind and the waves have made, since I have been on the ocean. And, sir, I can't live with it any longer.'

'Did you ever see the man whose house you fired?'

'No, sir, nor do I now remember his name; but he had a character, sir, for being a fine man, far and near.'

'The person's name is Rutherford, and he is now sitting in my office; the very gentleman you saw there.'

'The Lord forgive me! may I not see him, sir, just to ask his pardon, and then let him do with me what he thinks best?'

'You shall see him; but first answer me:—Are you willing to go with me, and meet face to face this man Cross, whom you say instigated this act?'

'I will, sir; only I hope I may be restrained from doing him an injury, for there is that in me, when I think of the villain, that wouldn't mind putting his daylight out, and trampling him in the dust.'

'That would do no good now, you know; it wouldn't rebuild the house, nor ease your conscience, nor reform the man. But I am this morning endeavoring to devise a plan with this gentleman, Mr. Rutherford, for the recovery of this very trunk you have been speaking about. It seems that, after all, it never went into the hands of Mr. Cross, but, by some strange accident, fell into possession of as great a villain as he was, one Michael Foster, who keeps it as a rod over Cross to force money from him. Your presence may be of great consequence. Can your Captain spare you?'

'He has let me ashore for this very business, sir. He thought may be I might be of some use to this Mr. Rutherford; and if I can, God knows I wouldn't value my own life a feather, sir.'

The Commodore told the man to be seated, and stepping into the office, communicated to Mr. Rutherford the particulars he had just been made acquainted with.

'This is a most unexpected turn to affairs, Mr. Rutherford; and I think I can see a way now by which we can get hold of these papers, and get rid of these villains at the same time, if you will leave matters to my management.'

'I will, certainly, sir, and feel deeply—'

'Say nothing about that, if you please. I will call for you in about an hour with my carriage. But first will you see this poor fellow, and set him at rest if you can?'

So saying, he led Mr. Rutherford into the adjoining room. The man was still seated, but was evidently in much agitation, for his countenance wore a death-like expression, and he trembled violently.

'Did you wish to speak with me?' said Mr. Rutherford, stepping up to him; 'you seem to be ill.'

'My body is well enough, sir; although I can't tell why it is in such an ague now. I never trembled before through all the dangers I have been in; but my mind is in a sad case, sir;—you see before you one of the men who burnt your beautiful house;'—and the rough sailor burst into tears.

'Do you truly regret having thus injured one who never did you any harm?'

'God knows I do; but tell me one thing, sir, was any of your family—'

'Burned with the dwelling, you were going to say; no, thank God and the faithfulness of my good old negro, they were not injured.'

'Thank God it is so, sir! and oh that my old messmate could have known this before he left the world!—he died, sir, howling like a raving man—"that he was a murderer!"'

The Commodore now took Mr. Rutherford aside, and making some further arrangements for the accomplishment of his plan, the latter gentleman departed, and Commodore Trysail ordered his carriage to be in immediate readiness.

In about two hours after this interview everything had been completed, and the party selected for the occasion was entering the barrens, and Joe, the Commodore's coachman, was urging on his horses at a very unusual speed, and one which the heavy fat beasts did not seem to relish.

It consisted of Commodore Trysail, Mr. Rutherford, James Montjoy and the sailor. The carriage stopped at the Widow Brown's, and some time was spent in a very particular conversation with the Widow and her son, and then off again to the north at the same rapid rate.

'Hold up a little, Joe, before you reach the tavern; and you may stop at Cross's, and let them blow awhile. It will not be best for us to appear to be in haste.' This latter sentence was intended by the Commodore for the company seated with him.

As the carriage drove up to the long low tavern, the Commodore and James Montjoy alighted; and as they stepped upon the piazza, Mr. Cross met them with a polite bow, and welcomed them to his premises.

Mr. Cross had, for a long time, been anxious to get into the good graces of both of them; for when he found that he could not destroy the young firm, he was desirous of their good-will, that he might the better make sales through them of his wood and timber; and the Commodore being so distinguished a personage, that a nod from him in any public place would be no small consideration for a man of Mr. Cross's standing.

Chairs and benches were immediately presented for their acceptance, but as politely declined.

'Mr. Montjoy and I have a little matter of business to talk with you about this morning, Mr. Cross, and would wish to see you in private.'

'By all means, gentlemen,' and the little fat man led them into a small back room, and carrying chairs with him, even against the protest of his visitors, placed them with much care, as to position and then closed the door.

'Since you have taken the trouble, Mr. Cross, to bring us seats, I suppose we may as well use them,' said the Commodore, taking up his chair, and placing it as if by accident near the door. Cross saw the movement, and from the sudden flush that deepened the purple hue of his face, appeared to feel that, at least, it was a singular one. He however took the stool which he had brought for himself, and placing it at a respectful distance, sat down in a composed manner, tilting it back so as to balance himself on two of its legs, and resting his hands one on each of his knees, as they were spread out, the better to maintain his position.

'Mr. Cross,' said the Commodore, 'when we have business on hand, the fewer words by way of introduction the better. I have a serious charge to make against you this morning, and therefore it is that I have chosen to see you alone.'

Cross immediately dropped his stool on its four legs, and straightening up to make the most of himself: 'If we are to be alone, sir, why have you brought company with you?' looking significantly at young Montjoy.

'To set your mind at rest on that head, Mr. Cross, I will tell you that Mr. Montjoy has, at my request, been deputized by the Sheriff, and acts at present as an officer.'

Cross did not turn pale, for that could not well be, but his countenance assumed a livid hue, and he immediately rose to his feet.

'You may as well be seated, Mr. Cross; this business has been committed to me, and it must go forward, sir; but I have no disposition to treat you with harshness—sit down, Mr. Cross.'

Mr. Cross sat down; there was something in the decided tones of the Commodore's voice that carried with them the idea of implicit obedience.

'Without alluding to the serious crime which I have it in my power to substantiate against you, I at once propose to you, Mr. Cross, that if you deliver up to me the papers which were taken from Mr. Rutherford's house by the men employed by you for that purpose, and at the same time make a quit-claim to your son David of all your real estate, you may then have twenty-four hours to make what other arrangements you please in this vicinity, and nothing shall be revealed until the expiration of that time; otherwise I shall immediately have you arrested for robbery and arson. I give you ten minutes in which to make your choice.'

'It is a false charge, sir; the whole of it is a falsehood, started by that old idiot the Widow Brown and her son; and I intend they shall smart well for it—that they shall, sir.'

The Commodore then gave a signal to James Montjoy, who left the room, and turning himself to Mr. Cross: 'It is a solemn thing for you, sir, to violate the precepts of the Almighty, for sooner or later, the hour of just retribution overtakes the delinquent. I am not sitting in judgment over you, Mr. Cross; but I cannot shut my eyes against the marked tokens of an overruling Providence, that have been exhibited in bringing to light what you supposed was beyond the reach of detection.'

At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Rutherford, followed by James Montjoy and the sailor, entered the room. Cross looked at them with intense anxiety until his eye fell on the latter; he started as though pierced by a ball, and then stood transfixed with amazement, until gradually he settled down into his seat, and stared wildly on the floor.

'Your ten minutes has about expired, Mr. Cross; what do you decide?'

'I am at your mercy, gentlemen, do what you think proper. As to the papers, they are not in my hands, nor ever have been.'

'We know that, Mr. Cross; but as you were intending to take possession of them this evening, you cannot be very ignorant where they are to be found.'

'Who told you that?'

'It is sufficient, sir, that we know the fact. As I have just said to you, the searching eye of the Almighty has been upon you through all the windings of your crooked way, and has brought out all your sin. The wretched beings who have been dependent upon you as hirelings, and whom you have ground to the dust, and trained for your wicked purposes; the woman who has been in reality your lawful wife, although not known nor acknowledged by you as such, the mother of your only child, yet treated by you as the off-scouring of the earth; the son who, by your instigation, had like to have been the ruin of a lovely girl—all are ready to testify against you. Under such circumstances, Mr. Cross, the mercy offered you is very tender in contrast with your iniquity.'

Cross was now indeed sensible that his hour of trial had come: large drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and he trembled like a reed in the tempest.

'Michael Foster has the papers in his possession; but you must take him by surprise and watch him close, for if he suspects what you want, they will be destroyed before you can help yourselves.'

'He is a justice of the peace, I understand, Mr. Cross.'

'Yes.'

'You will please go with us, then, sir; you can execute the deed there, which you know was one of the terms I stated to you. You have one made out, have you not, Mr. Rutherford?'

'I have, sir.'

The Commodore, without further remark, signified his wish to be on the way: and soon Mr. Cross was seated on an easy cushion in a fine carriage, and with such company as he never had the honor of riding with before; but I presume it was a matter of secret rejoicing with him that the journey would be a short one—the soft seat and the good company were thorns and fire to him.

Commodore Trysail alone left the carriage, and as Mr. Foster opened his door, entered without waiting for any ceremony.

'Mr. Foster, I presume, sir?'

'At your service, sir,' making a low bow to the Commodore.

'You are a justice of the peace?'

'I am, sir.'

'Gentlemen,' said the Commodore—calling to those in the carriage—'the Esquire is at home, you can come in.'

Mr. Foster began to be much surprised, not only at the peculiar manner of his visitor in his own abrupt entrance, but at calling, without leave, a coach-load of folks to follow: his looks however manifested something more than surprise, when he found himself honoured with the presence of those who now entered his apartment.

'Mr. Rutherford, that deed, if you please.' The tones of the Commodore's voice assumed a harshness very unusual with him of late years; his keen eye had penetrated into the character of the man he had now to deal with. 'Mr. Cross wishes you, sir,' addressing Foster, 'to witness his signature, and take an acknowledgment of his free act and deed.'

Foster bowed again, and without reply handed the pen and ink to neighbor Cross. He then sat down and wrote very rapidly, although it was impossible for him to conceal the agitation which his nerves suffered.

'And now, Mr. Foster,' said the Commodore, 'this matter being through with, and Mr. Cross's business settled, your turn comes next.' Foster's jaws, as we have seen, were rather long and flabby at best; but as he dropped his chin and drew up his eyebrows in the surprise that came over him as the Commodore turned upon him his keen, searching eye, he made up altogether an expression rather wo-begone. 'You have had in your possession for some time, Mr. Foster, a small trunk of papers, of but little value to yourself, except as you have held them for the especial benefit of your friend, Mr. Cross, here; but as he has wisely chosen to give up doing business in these parts, they can be of no further use either to him or to you; and as we have abundant proof of the guilt and villany of you both, we shall therefore give you an equal chance, provided you immediately surrender those papers. Twenty-four hours, sir, you may have in order to settle up your business in this region; if, after the expiration of that time, you are seen in this vicinity, I pledge you my word, which has never been broken yet, that you shall be arrested as an accomplice in the crimes of robbery and arson.'

Foster cast his eye at the downcast countenance of Cross, and read too plainly in that the sad situation in which their affairs were placed. Evasion would do nothing for his benefit in this case; he therefore, without making the least reply, walked to a closet which opened into the side of the large chimney, unlocked it, and began taking out sundry old boxes, bottles, paper bundles, etc.; these he placed upon the floor, until the whole cupboard was emptied. He then deliberately took from his pocket another key, and applying it to the back of his cupboard, opened another door there; and thrusting his long arm into the hole, brought forth the long-lost trunk.

'What consummate villany!' exclaimed Mr. Rutherford, as he at once took possession of his property.

'Open it at once, sir,' said the Commodore, 'and see that every thing is right; for if but one paper is missing, they shall both swing for it yet.'

But the papers were all correct, and both Foster and Cross felt in no small degree relieved, even with the conditions then laid upon them, when the party which had thus made each of them such an unexpected visit, was again riding away. And here we may willingly, both for ourselves and our readers, take leave of these two characters: they suddenly disappeared—no one, excepting those in the secret, understanding why; they have been blots upon the scene of our story, and we bid adieu to them with pleasure.

CHAPTER XXXII.

There are spots in life, like bright days in the year, when all above, around, and beneath, is so full of beauty, that the spirit bathes in the luxurious scene almost to weariness.

Such a spot to Sam was the day of his return to his native village. The cordial welcome of the good old Commodore, testifying his hearty approbation of his gallant conduct by a commission that at once established his independence; the warm embrace of friends who had grown up with him from boyhood, and who exulted in his enviable prosperity; the respectful consideration that was meted out to him on all sides; and above all, the flow of ardent and almost overpowering affection that met him in that home, where parents and sisters poured out into his own glowing bosom the bursting fulness of their hearts—affection, respect, honor, and independence, all in one united band, waiting upon him, and doing all that in them lay, to make this hour of his life bright and happy.

The meeting between Sam and the family of Major (now General) Morris, was all that he could have asked. His old and first friend, the General, was at a distant part of the country, engaged in active service; but Lady Morris greeted him with the warmth of a mother, and Susan, that once retiring and bashful little girl—a glance of whose eye filled the heart of the little sailor-boy with rapture, who had refused bright offers, and turned away from many an ardent lover—met our hero with a manner so cordial, and with all the friendship of her heart unmasked, that he could doubt no longer of the pure delight that awaited him.

Peter was almost beside himself with joy, and kept his crutches going from morning till night, cutting off immense slices from his bundle of "pig-tail," and stowing them away two at a time; talking to every one he met, telling most incredible stories, and sometimes, when he thought he could do it without being heard huzzaing, as though to let off superfluous steam.

The Commodore, however, before the close of the day, damped his ardor for a few moments, by bringing a serious charge against his favorite.

'It is all well, Peter. To be sure, Captain Sam has shown himself a man, but what do you think about his letting prisoners slip out of his hands in that way?'

'In what way, your honor?'

'By letting them go, and giving them one of the ship's best boats; and finding them with compass and stores, and every thing so that they might put off to sea, and hunt up their squadron—that looks too much like comforting the enemy, Peter.'

'Pardon me, your honor, if I can't agree with your honor this time. Captain Sam had good warrant for what he did.'

'Good warrant, Peter—from whom?'

'I heered our minister—God bless him—on the last Sabbath, and your honor must have heered him too, say—and he took it from the good old Book, your honor—"Love your inimies, do good to them that hate you"—and more of the same kind.'

'But, Peter, you don't mean that we should deal with these men, whom you have been so long wishing that the winds would blow high and dry, according to the good Book, do you?'

Peter had to turn his quid over, and chew a little on it, for he remembered having indulged some rather ungenerous feelings—especially towards his blockading friends.

'It is hard, I allow, as your honor very well knows, to make a man's conscience always jibe right when encountering an inimy to one's self, or thinking of one that is dear to us that may be like to git into their clutches; but when a man can catch a chance to show a little Christian spirit towards them that seek his hurt, whether it be inimies to one's country, or inimies to one's self, it will be better, as I take it, in the long run, your honor, and at the last reckoning, that we should do so.'

'Well, well, Peter, it is getting late, and you must be pretty well tired to-day, you had better turn in.'

'Many thanks to your honor, and a long life.'

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Time is not only a destroyer; he is a healer too. Sorrow and joy attend his flight; and each in turn commands the passing hour. The family of Mr. Rutherford had laid aside the badges of mourning which, in token of respect for the memory of one they loved, they had put on when William Andrews died. The scene at his bedside had been ratified in secret, and Henry Tracy felt every day more and more satisfied with the one he had chosen. There was some little stir, indeed, when it was known abroad, and some even hinted the idea that he had stooped a little in taking one situated as Hettie had been; but none who really knew her ever thought so. She was a bright star, dimmed awhile by clouds, and now to shine in her true, simple lustre; her husband's heart, her husband's home, and the circle over which his care rested, were now to feel her sweet and womanly influence.

The pressure of trouble had done its bidden work upon the views and habits of Mr. Rutherford; and then, by the same kind hand which brought it, was it taken off. The recovery of his deed at once placed him in possession of wealth; the immense value of the tract of timber was daily becoming more evident, and he was in a few months enabled to commence the joyful duty of liquidating the claim upon his homestead. He had resolved, in time, to rebuild upon the ruins of his former house; but prudence was his watchword now, and until every cent of the claim was cancelled, he determined to remain in his present situation. He was, however, for a few months occupying the beautiful mansion of Commodore Trysail, at the special request of the latter, who was about to leave for the south, where he and his lady expected to remain some time.

The pretty parsonage, which has been so long waiting for an occupant, is at last full of life and bustle. The windows have been opened for some days, and young female forms are seen moving about in all directions through the house. Curtains are putting up and carpets putting down, bedsteads are coming together, and large flat beds are lying about in readiness to be put upon them; piles of chairs, tied together two and two, are waiting to be released; and crates, boxes, and baskets, all well filled, are being broken open and pulled to pieces, while from them be borne off by nimble hands and feet all sorts of every thing, to be arranged according to their different uses.

In the mean time there is a great stir at Mr. Rutherford's. Old ladies and young ones have been much together there of late; vast quantities of needles and pins and silk and thread have been in requisition; and then the old family recipe-book has been for days lying on the large kitchen table, with heaps of flour and butter alongside of it, and busy hands have been violently engaged beating insides of eggs, and taking out the insides of raisins, and stewing things together in all sorts of ways; while at times a most savory smell would escape to the upper stories, enough to set all the old women and young children running down stairs.

At length the meaning of all this bustle is unfolded. A wedding day has come. Henry Tracy has been putting his pretty cottage in readiness to receive the lovely girl, who has consented to be its mistress; and Hettie, with the aid of her companions, and under the care of Mrs. Rutherford, has been making preparations for the hour when she yields herself in holy wedlock to the man she loves.

It has been a busy day with the family of Mr. Rutherford from early dawn until near its close; and now, as evening approaches, lights are seen glistening from every window in the large building, and through the wide hall, flitting like fairies, young ladies are passing and repassing, and going up and down with light and joyous steps, as though pleasure had come down and shed her quickening charm upon them all. Carriages of various kinds are landing groups of young and old, and then driving off with speed. Attendants at the door in neat array, are leading the new comers to the various rooms assigned for their reception. For a while confusion seems to reign; then all subsides to quiet. The joyous laugh and the lively call are hushed, and within the spacious parlor have all assembled who are to be the witnesses of the solemn rite. Dazzling with lights, scattered profusely round, and trimmed with evergreens and early flowers, it seems a fairy bower; while, circling the room the well-dressed guests, with staid and even solemn faces, are whispering to each other, or eyeing with curious gaze the beautiful festoons that grace the windows or sweep across the lofty ceiling.

It is the wedding day of the young pastor and his gentle bride, and Henry Tracy enters the room, accompanied by his three bridesmen, Captain Oakum, and James and Edward Montjoy. Soon after Hettie appears led by Mr. Rutherford, who is to act as her father, and give away the bride. She is simply dressed without ornament of any kind, but the long white veil which falls in light and graceful folds from her head, and partly hides her dark luxuriant hair. Her bridesmaids follow, Susan Morris, and the sisters of the young Captain, and of James and Edward Montjoy.

'Before I present to you,' said Mr. Rutherford, addressing Mr. Tracy, 'this chief earthly treasure'—and he turned his eyes for a moment to the blushing girl who was leaning on his arm—'I must beg your acceptance of this paper, you will find when you look upon it, that you are not taking to your home a portionless bride. She is as dear to the hearts of Mrs. Rutherford and myself as if she were our own child, and we have given to her the dowry of a daughter of our own. You chose her as a poor portionless girl, and would have loved her as tenderly had she continued so; but we all know that this is an uncertain world, and it is as well to be prepared for its troubles. May God bless you both!'

One wedding, it is said, leads to another. Whether this is so or not, I cannot say, but the signs are ominous; for James Montjoy and Mary Oakum take long walks by moonlight, and Sam spends every evening at General Morris's, and other tokens tell plainly what things are coming to.

But the long road which I and my readers have travelled together, must here end: are you not glad of it?

J. OGDEN AND CO. LIMITED, PRINTERS. GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.

THE LILY SERIES.

Uniform with this Volume.

The design of this Series is to include no books except such as are peculiarly adapted by their high tone, pure taste, and thorough principle to be read by those persons, young and old, who look upon books as upon their friends—only worthy to be received into the Family Circle for their good qualities and excellent characters. In view of this design, no author whose name is not a guarantee of the real worth and purity of his or her work, or whose book has not been subjected to a rigid examination, will be admitted into the "Lily Series."