Once upon a time there lived on an island, separated from the main land of Europe by a silver streak of the ocean, a celebrated Buccaneer.

There was a rugged grandeur about the rock-bound coast of this island, with its bluff, bold headlands and beetling cliffs, where the sea birds loved to make their nests high up above the spray; mingling their cries with the voice of the ocean as it rushed into its wide and deep throated caverns. The waves, too, worked ever, and for ever, a broad fretwork collar round these rocky shores. Unlucky was the ship that found this island on her lee in a gale of wind. Many a child had been made fatherless there, and many a wife a widow. But to those who knew how to thread their way through the many channels, numerous bays, creeks, and rivers, offered a safe retreat either from the storm or from an enemy.

This island was a fit home for one following the profession of a Buccaneer. Its natural advantages were extremely great; for not only was it difficult of access, but its innumerable big throated caverns opened their wide jaws ready to receive anything that floated in from the ocean. However, this bold pirate did such a good business, that in a short time these caves became too small, so he had to build wharves and warehouses to hold his plunder; for he lived in such an age, and was surrounded by such unprincipled people, that he could not leave his things lying about on the shore. Besides which, the climate was not good, being frequently visited by fogs, gales of wind, and very heavy rains.

Soon villages rose up; then towns, which in their turn grew into great cities, the principal of which were generally planted by the side of some one of his many rivers. Soon the bays and rivers became crowded with ships, and the shores were busy scenes of industry. Cargoes were being landed. Sails were being made and repaired; ropes overhauled and restranded, and the smell of the pitch caldrons rose up and mingled with the salt air blown in fresh from the sea. Shipwrights' hammers resounded along the shores, and were echoed back by the beetling cliffs. While the men worked, the women sang, and the chubby-faced, fair-haired children played about on the beach.

To those who ask how our bold Buccaneer acquired most of his property, it must be answered that it came to him in a manner usual in those times. Everybody laid their hands upon what they could, and then devoted all their spare time and energy to the keeping of it. Title deeds were for the most part written in blood, with a sharp-pointed one-nibbed steel pen. When we live in Rome we must do as the Romans do, and we must not set up to be better than our neighbours, that is, if we wish to prosper, and when all the world is going in for universal plunder it does not pay to stand on one side, with hands idle, arms folded, and eyes upturned to heaven, saying that people are wicked. Needs must when the devil drives.

It has been a time-honoured custom to rob and kill, so that riches may be laid up; then it becomes the duty of all to watch lest the thief breaks through and steals. This primitive method of doing business is now justly condemned, and all nations pay at least a tribute to virtue, by flinging a cloth over any shady action. But nations even now have to maintain their dignity. Insults have to be resented, and ambitious designs have to be frustrated. Battles are fought, and people are slaughtered, and some one, as the saying is, has to pay the piper.

It would almost seem, by a contemplation of things in general, that man by nature is a robber, the action changing its colour according to the atmosphere that people have to live in. In barbarous ages the act of plunder is done openly, and a fellow-creature is sent about his business, either with a broken head or with a spear through his body, and there is an end to him, and perhaps the world is not much the poorer. That honesty is the best policy is, by experience, forced upon us; but even now, in our most enlightened age, the individual will at times adulterate his liquor, sand his sugar, and sell short weight, though he may try to sanctify the deed by saying his prayers before and after; thus adding somewhat to the general stock of humbugs, hypocrites, and Pharisees. But to our story.

It was a noble sight to see this bold Buccaneer getting under weigh with his fleet of ships. Clack, clack went the windlasses, and his brave lads could be heard singing as they lifted their anchors a peak—

Home went the sheets. Up went the yards, and the sails bellied out to the wind. On the shores crowded the women and children. The little ones with shock heads of curly hair, the sport of the breeze, crying after their fathers, holding up their tearful little faces for the sea-breeze to kiss. The wives wishing their brave lads a prosperous voyage, and a safe return, with plenty of plunder. Silks and spices from the East, and gold and silver from the West, or wherever they could find it. Away went the ships, with their white canvas spread like the wings of a seagull. Soon the hulls were down, and the white specks, after lingering for a while upon the far-off horizon, sank beneath and vanished. Then sending a sigh after their mates on the wings of the north wind, the women returned to their homes and sang their young sea whelps to sleep, with lullabies tuned to the daring deeds of their fathers.

Things in this world do not remain shady long. Time works wonders and throws the halo of romance over the darkest deeds. See what time and romance have done for William Tell. Look at your Alexander and your Frederick; are not they both called great? Ah! these two were conquerors not plunderers; and there lies the difference, though perhaps Maria Theresa and one or two others might have had something to say against one of these fine fellows. Then there is Robin Hood. Have not time and romance completely changed the aspect of that, at one time, bold and notorious outlaw? For over fifty years did this jolly robber enjoy himself upon other people's property. Look too at the numerous other gentlemen of the road; your crusaders and adventurers in early times. What were the hardy Norsemen, of whom we love to sing? There is something very attractive about your robber, no matter whether he carries on his profession by sea or land, the only thing needful being, to study him at a distance, and through the halo of this said romance. If it were not for the world's great robbers what would historians have to record; what would poets have to sing about? If they had to confine themselves to the virtuous actions, to the good that is done, their occupation would be gone. The chronicling of small beer is a waste of labour.

But there comes a time when the very worst of sinners are troubled by that mysterious part of the human economy known by the name of conscience. This conscience is at times a veritable tyrant, saying what we shall eat, what we shall drink, and what we shall do. To the many the matter is not one of difficulty. If they have to make their way in the world, conscience is either thrown overboard, or put under hatches until such times as it is wanted. Then it comes up all the fresher for its temporary retirement, and is, generally speaking, very exacting.

The disposition to repent of the evil we have done is not confined either to age, time, or sex happily. The call comes perhaps, more often, and earlier, to women than it does to men. Jezebel was not altogether as good as she ought to have been, but even she might have turned over a new leaf, and have become a most respectable saint, had not misfortune thrown her across the path of that impetuous fellow Jehu, with the result that she was, as every one knows, thrown out of a window. Had Jezebel lived in the Buccaneer island in his later days, and had she been young and beautiful, and the paint not too thick upon her face, she might have been tried for some small act of indiscretion, such for instance as that trifling incident about Naboth; but probably she would have been acquitted, when no doubt she would have left the court without a stain upon her character, and would have been an object of sympathy ever after. This lady has left a numerous family of daughters behind her, many of whom, however, turn over new leaves, and having been considerable sinners, become the most straight-laced, unpitying, and uncharitable of sour-faced saints. Poor Jezebel the first was never given a chance. She lived too soon.

But to the point. The time came when our bold Buccaneer received, as the saying is, his call, and it was brought about in the following manner. In early times when saints walked about the earth calling sinners to repentance, one found his way over to the Buccaneer's island, induced to go there, not by the hope of any worldly gain in the shape of church preferment or salary; and here lies much of the difference between a modern saint and an ancient one. But the one, of whom we wish now particularly to speak, was impelled by the hope of snatching this burning brand from the devil's fire. Some of the Buccaneer's neighbours had tried to convert him before this, by means of the sword, but without effect, for the pirate's nest was a hard one to take, and the eggs burnt the fingers of all those who attempted to touch them.

The precise spot where the saint landed is open to doubt; so is the exact time and the method of his transit. Some declared that he came over on a broomstick. Others again, said he used the ordinary means of conveyance, and this is the most worthy of credence. About saints there is generally something that is legendary. He preached his gospel to the Buccaneer, and told him in the plainest language that he was going to the devil, about whose dominion he drew such a glowing account that the Buccaneer was moved.

He repented, and determined to turn over that wonderful leaf, that the world is for ever hearing so much about, and seeing so little of. To show his earnestness, the Buccaneer built churches and endowed them, and not unfrequently out of the money that he took from other people. This was but right. Belfries rose up in every nook and corner, and their iron tongues could be constantly heard calling all pious buccaneers to prayer.

But that befell the saint which sooner or later must happen to us all. He died, but left behind him a book, which he told the Buccaneer was to be his rule in life, for between its covers there lay the seed of all that was good, and the gentle spirit of one, who though dead would live for ever. The precious gift was handed over to the safe custody of the Buccaneer's church, and the old saint with much sorrow and ceremony was laid in his narrow cell, to await there the sound of the last trump.

The days of mourning were barely over when difficulties arose. The faith left behind by the old saint was extremely good, and even beautiful, but it was not at all adapted to one who occasionally robbed a neighbour's hen-roost. Indeed, it was not at all fitted for one who followed the profession of a bold Buccaneer. It was a trifle hard to sell all that he had and give it to the poor, who might be a lazy lot of skulking rascals. Then who could expect to get on in this world, if, when one cheek was struck he turned the other? Beautiful, yes, but not practical. If our fighting Buccaneer did this sort of thing, every daw from the mainland would invade the nest of the eagle, and peck him to death, and suck his eggs.

Then the command not to lay up riches upon earth; and to live in peace and charity with all men. This was all very well, but then when you are surrounded by a lot of people, who will not live up to these fine sentiments, what is a poor fellow to do?

The Buccaneer had a coxswain, who was his right-hand man, and whose name was Jack Commonsense. He took him into his confidence. Old Jack scratched his head, which was a sure sign that he was in trouble, and he told his master that he did not see any way out of the difficulty, for, if they sailed by the instruction as laid down in the Book the saint had left behind, they had better give up the buccaneering business at once, and try something else. The end of the matter was, that it was handed over to the Buccaneer's Church to settle, for, as he said in his quaint sea-faring language, it's no use keeping a dog if you have to bark yourself. To his clergy he deputed the by no means easy task of shaping a course in accordance with his book, the Bible, and at the same time not altogether antagonistic to his worldly interests. In fact, some kind of a compromise had to be made.

Obedient to the command of their earthly master, the most learned of the Buccaneer's divines assembled together in solemn conclave, and having opened the proceedings with prayer, they fell to arguing upon the grave questions before them. The Scriptures were searched, and very much learning and piety were displayed, and very much heat, with a little temper, was introduced; but there seemed to be little probability of their coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Some said the word must be adhered to, others said that the word killed, and that it was the spirit that must be taken into consideration.

After very much argument, which at times cleft asunder the matter in dispute, thereby forming schism and even sects, a satisfactory conclusion was arrived at, and the foundation was laid of an edifice, which in time was to grow into most beautiful proportions. The foundation rested upon the Book, and the corner stones were those which Christ had laid in Galilee. The superstructure was built to a large extent by human hands, and of earthly material. Still it was a noble edifice, and thus the Buccaneer had manufactured for him a good everyday religion, somewhat worldly perhaps, but eminently suited to his mode of life.

There were slight incongruities, but it mattered little to the subject of our history, and we may presume that he did not see them; or if he did he did not notice them, which answers the same purpose. Such things are at all times more apparent to other people than to those especially interested. Besides, any little shortcomings on the part of the Buccaneer were amply made amends for by his solicitude for the religious welfare of others, whose eternal happiness seemed indeed to be more to him than his own. Wherever he went he took with him his Bible, and as he had not been able to swallow it wholesale himself, he soothed his conscience by thrusting it down the throats of other people. If they would not take it quietly, then he would help them over their difficulty with the point of his sword. It was a principle of his that if people would not go to Heaven, that they must be made to go there, and accordingly he sent a good many to the other world very much against their will, and very much before their time.

This bold Buccaneer was perhaps originally intended for a Mahommedan, but being spoilt in the making he became an indifferent Christian. Tell him this, and it would be wise to clear out at once, and make tracks for the remotest part of the world.

As a matter of course he must follow the example of all other Christian people, and enroll himself under the protection of some saint. Now, whether it was by chance, or whether he was possessed with a grim kind of humour, it would be impossible to say. Indeed, he may have had a genuine admiration for the man. The fact remains that he chose as his patron George of Capadocia, who seems to have done a very good business in the way of bacon. It is at all times a difficult matter to form a true estimate of a character far back in history; but it is probable that the whole saintly calendar does not contain a more disreputable blackguard than this self-same George; but he is now a saint "de mortuis etc.;" the bold Buccaneer having now had a good serviceable religion manufactured for him, and having also been fitted out with a good elastic and easily worked conscience, he was himself again. Away the merry rover went, cracking a head here and a crib there, and returning home with whatever happened to fall in his way.

All the Buccaneer's neighbours had adopted some characteristic emblem or device with an appropriate motto. No people, of any degree of self-respect, can get on without such things. The device generally takes the form of some beast or bird of prey—eagles and vultures being greatly favoured. The bold Buccaneer with a characteristic modesty adopted the lion as his emblem, and as his motto "God and my Right." It is wonderful how he made both ends of his motto meet to his own great advantage. These two principles seldom seemed to clash, and if they did, he generally overcame the difficulty in a most satisfactory manner. This perhaps was the effect of his having a good conscience.

Now the lion is a noble-looking animal. His appearance is ferocious, while his roar is terrifying in the extreme. Those who have watched, and studied his habits, say that in spite of all this, he is about as mean a beast as ever stole a meal or entered upon an unequal fight, being ever ready to rob and plunder the weaker inhabitants of the jungle. Of course, the animal had his good points; all animals have, and, no doubt, it was these that attracted the Buccaneer's attention. How delighted he was when his lion's roar frightened any one of his neighbours! What pleasure too it gave him when he put out his large paw and snatched a handful of feathers out of any of their birds! But then what a terrible screeching there was, and very often a fight.

Not to be behind his neighbour in anything, he created high sounding titles, and honourable distinctions, to reward those of his sons who did well in the buccaneering trade. Then to support the weight of their newly acquired dignity, he either allowed them to levy blackmail on whom they could, or he sent round the hat amongst his own people. This hat was with him a cherished institution, and was used on all kinds of occasions. It was hung up in all his churches, but taken down and sent round after every service. Of such importance was it that it must be deemed to be worthy at all times of a capital to begin with. For length of titles he could not approach many of his neighbours, who frequently found consolation for empty pockets, ruined castles, and extreme poverty in a long string of names.

The bold Buccaneer grew in strength, in riches, and in righteousness also. His family increased and multiplied as all good people's families should; but still he fought, and for the most part conquered. This proved to his own satisfaction that God was generally on his side. When the enemy was handed over to him he despoiled him, thus following the example set him by most other peoples and nations, in olden times and in new. It is a good thing to pluck a beaten adversary well, lest he flies again too soon, and sticks either his beak, or his claws into you. Do not believe him if he says he will not do it. To his beaten foe the Buccaneer was kind, for he gave to him spiritual consolation; giving his Bible and selling him his strong and intoxicating drinks. He fully believed that those who did not live up to the teaching of his book would be eternally damned, though he did not at all times show a disposition to live up to it himself, it being very much too inconvenient to do so. There was occasionally such a difference between his preaching, and his practice, that his neighbours wondered whether he was a knave or a hypocrite, or a good honest gentleman who saw no incongruity in his line of action.

Sometimes in his encounters with his enemies he came off second best, as the saying is. Then there was nothing he was so sure of as that the devil was fighting against him. It was his custom then to look about for a scapegoat, and if he found one he sacrificed him to appease the Divine anger. Then having bound up his broken head and dressed his wounds, he took down his book, read a chapter or two, said his prayers, and then waited until the Lord handed his enemy over to him. Then he quickly wiped off old scores, adding or taking something, by way of interest. Thus he became very much respected by all who knew him. As he prospered, so did his church, for he was very generous as most sailors are. Whatever the edifice was within, it was beautiful without, and had a complete organisation. The High Priest, not Caiaphas, stood at the head of all things, and he was the keeper of the Buccaneer's conscience. It was the duty of the High Priest to keep all his subordinates in order. This was a task which at times he could not perform, for the members of the ecclesiastical body showed themselves to be true chips of the Buccaneer block, and though essentially men of peace, they proved themselves at times to be equally men of war. His priests being the keepers of his conscience, frequently took upon themselves to lecture him; not hesitating even to tell him of his transgressions. Having brought the ardent old sinner upon his knees, and prescribed for him prayers, mortifications, and fastings; having also bled him, they cleaned and repaired his conscience and sent him on his way again. Thus did the priesthood grow in power and in self-respect.

Comparisons, it is said, are odious; but they are necessary at times, and if we compare our friend with any one of his neighbours, we find him not a bit worse; he himself thinking, indeed, that he was infinitely better. To exterminate the heathen, or to bring them over from their evil ways, and to burn all heretics was at one time the pious object of his life. The weak, too, had to be protected, and those who cannot take care of themselves ought, at all times, to be extremely obliged to those who will do it for them, and of course they must expect to pay. Then the evil doer had to be punished and fined, and the pride of the arrogant and haughty had to be humbled, and surplus populations had to be worked off, and anybody undertaking these very disagreeable, though necessary duties, is deserving of the thanks of those who have neither the taste, nor the leisure for the occupation. There is nothing strange in all this. Did not Moses sit upon the hilltop with Aaron on one side and Hur on the other, and while these two held up his hands did he not look with satisfaction upon Joshua discomfiting the Amalekites? and very well Joshua seems to have done his work.

Who then will blame the Buccaneer? As in Joshua's day, so now such things are necessary. And if the Buccaneer did burn a heretic or two, what then? He was strictly impartial. To-day it was what was called a Holy Roman that he fried, to-morrow he varied the bill of fare by roasting a Protestant. That was in his early days.

Our Buccaneer was essentially a fighting man, and though the Book he swore by preached peace on earth and good will towards men, his habit was to mix himself up—in early times at least—in every pot-house brawl that he could, and a cracked head was to him an honourable distinction. He as often as not took the wrong side, and he was frequently found fighting in very queer company; but to his honour it must be said that the weakness of a neighbour, who was put upon, was more to him than any abstract principle of right or wrong, and though he was not above pitching into a fellow smaller than himself, he would not allow anyone else to indulge in the luxury if he could help it.

The ill-natured—those who are for ever ready to find out spots and blemishes in other people, to the utter neglect of their own, said all kinds of things. Called him a hard fighting, hard drinking, and hard swearing Christian. He did swear; it was a bad habit, no doubt; but then his climate was enough to make any man swear, and drink into the bargain. He had his failings, and he did not mind being told of them, and he would sit patiently in church, whilst his priests thundered at him from their many pulpits. He took it all in; said his prayers devoutly, and when the inevitable Hat came round, he gave liberally. Perhaps he experienced some slight regret on such occasions that some of his wicked neighbours were not present to partake of the spiritual food that was thus given freely. He felt sure it would have hit some of them very hard. It might perhaps have made them mend their ways, though, as it did not seem to have a permanent effect upon the Buccaneer himself, there may be a doubt upon the subject. It is said that eels get accustomed to skinning.

In passing it may be mentioned that his women—at least in early times—were honest, virtuous, brave and true, and in every way fitting mothers for a race of warriors. It may be presumed that they had their faults. Indeed, some of his laws and customs would lead us to believe that such was the case. For instance, it was laid down as a rule that no husband should beat his wife with a stick of greater diameter than one inch. There was very great humanity here. Scolds he sometimes ducked. If that did not stop the rancour of their tongues he tried the effect of an instrument called the "branks." This fitted over the head something like a dog-muzzle, and was fastened behind with a padlock, while an iron plate rested upon the tongue, and kept it quiet. This was found to be effective.

Judging from our present high state of civilization when women are allowed full liberty of speech, these early habits and customs of the Buccaneer will not bear looking into. Occasionally in later times some one of his sons, not conspicuous for chivalry, knocked down his wife, or his mother-in-law, and then jumped upon her; but as a general rule his manners were very much softened, and his women were treated with very great indulgence. Perhaps those who suffered were deserving people. If, in his ruder age, the women did not love their lords and masters, they at least respected them, and this feeling in the long-run brings the most happiness. In his latter days a deep suit of mourning, with much crape, and a becoming widow's cap, often covered a joyous heart, and a fresh campaign was commenced. But what is love? You have it; you have it not. It is sometimes near, then again it is obscured by distance. It wanders about like a sweet and gentle spirit above the earth; soaring sometimes with outstretched wings to heaven. It seems brightest when afar. Touch it, and it will shrink and fade like the delicate petals of a flower. It often haunts a grave-yard and makes a home amongst the tombs. You fly from it, and it follows; you turn and chase it and it flies. What is love? It is a veritable Will o' the Wisp.

Honour to whom honour is due. In speaking of the Buccaneer and in briefly sketching his early life, it would not be right to pass by, without some slight comment, a people who occupied an island situated not many miles from his shores. They were called the Ojabberaways. They came of a spirited and highly sensitive race. They were imaginative in the extreme, quick of temper, and very prone to insult. The smallest slight they would look upon as a grave injury. They were also a quick-witted, clever, and merry people, and fighting was the joy of their life. They were not total abstainers.

Somehow the Ojabberaways and the Buccaneer, though near neighbours, did not get on very well together. This often happens, more especially amongst relations, but the Ojabberaways would not admit that they were of the same blood as the Buccaneer. They maintained that they came from a far nobler stock. In fact, it would appear from what the people themselves said, though history is silent upon the subject, that the island was at one time inhabited by one or two kings, who left a progeny sufficient to people the whole place, and that consequently, every Ojabberaway had royal blood in his veins. No wonder then that they were high-spirited and proud. Now they looked upon the bold Buccaneer as a tyrant, whose chief aim in life was to tread under foot, and otherwise insult them. Nothing would induce them to believe the contrary. They sucked it in at their mother's breasts. The origin of their name is wrapped in mystery, but it is probable that it had, in some way, a connection with the chief produce of their country.

The Ojabberaways were not a united people. Though for the most part they were inimical to the rule of the Buccaneer, and groaned under what they considered the chain cast upon them by an alien and an oppressor, there were many who were comfortable and even happy and contented under his rule. Between these two sections of the Ojabberaways there was no love lost. The wild Ojabberaways as they were sometimes called—of course behind their backs—looked with peculiar hatred upon what were called the loyal Ojabberaways. Speaking of the people generally it may be said, that when you came across one who was a thorough gentleman, no finer specimen of the class could be found in the world; but nature is not at all times prodigal. There are some flowers that only bloom once in a hundred years.

For the ordinary occupation of life the people had little or no taste, and in his own country, if you found one Ojabberaway working, you would always find two at least indulging in the luxury of looking on. And at all times an Ojabberaway would give over any labour in which he might be occupied, to follow a fellow-countryman to his grave, to whom in life he would not have lent a single sixpence. This respect for the dead is touching; but the Ojabberaways were a sentimental nation.

They were also a peculiarly constituted people, generous to a fault as long as they had anything to give; but they, for the most part, lived beyond their means, for a man with a thousand a year would generally spend two, and this in time brought them into the usurer's hands and into difficulties. Then some one had to suffer, and it was generally the tenant of the land and the peasant. The usurer at all times drives a hard bargain, and what bowels he has are not those of compassion. What is in his bond he takes care to have. This gave an opening to the agitator, and he took advantage of the state of things to stir up strife.

Then the Ojabberaways had peculiarly formed eyes. To the outward appearance just like other peoples; but inwardly quite differently constructed. An object that would appear to an ordinary individual in one light would impinge upon the retina of an Ojabberaway's eye in such a manner as to distort some things and magnify others; but most of all a grievance. On the other hand an obligation would appear as small as if it were looked at through the wrong end of a telescope. They were extremely romantic and were given occasionally to romancing. In fact, it has been said by those who like to summarise and put a whole history almost into a nutshell, that the lower orders of the Ojabberaways were liars by nature and beggars by trade. Allowing for that exaggeration which is common to all such sayings there is still a residuum of truth left. Though brave at all times when out of their own country, in it their courage generally took refuge behind a bank or a stone wall. Their food was simple and their favourite drink was strong; so much so, that when taken in too great quantities, it made them perfectly irresponsible beings and extremely dangerous and disagreeable neighbours. Their women were the most virtuous in the world and amongst the most lively, and the men, though in their revenge they would have recourse to the assassin's dagger, would never assail the chastity of a woman, who might walk from one end of their island to the other without the slightest fear of molestation.

The lower orders of this devil-me-care people were joyful in their rags. They preferred dirt to cleanliness, and as has been already said, truth with them was not a highly prized virtue, though if they did lie, they did it more to please than deceive. The Ojabberaways had taken up patriotism, and made it into a regular trade, and they had cultivated it until it had become a most lucrative employment. But with all their faults, and Heaven only knows they had many, one could not help liking them. They had worked for the Buccaneer; they had fought for him, and had helped him in many of his predatory excursions, and they were inclined, at the time of which we are speaking, like many another people, to do a little robbing on their own account; but it must be owned that they were a regular thorn in the Buccaneer's side, and the thorn was working deeper, and deeper, into his flesh every day he lived. It must also be owned that in time past he had not treated them over-well, and retribution was galloping after him in hot haste.

What am I? I am a whitened sepulchre; a cloak which covers a multitude of sins. Who am I? I am a masquerader, a thorough hypocrite and a Pharisee, for I am a worshipper of forms and ceremonies. I move in the very best society. I am a stickler for social laws and etiquette, and I love a lord. I am the guardian of public morals, and in all my dealings I exercise a strict propriety, and I punish severely, not so much the crime, as its detection. At church I am regularly to be seen; but I worship more in public than in private, my devotion being more to attract the attention of my fellow beings than for the sake of God. If I pray, it is openly. If I give, it is before the eyes of all men. It is not so much to me what I am as what I appear to be. On my way home from church I put on a demure, and downcast look, and enjoy in secret my worldly thoughts. I contemplate with inward pleasure, though I outwardly condemn, the shortcomings and failings of my neighbours. I put a check on honest, robust mirth, for its loud, and consequently vulgar laugh offends me. I keep aloof from all questionable society. A poor relation I never see, should he present himself at my door, I promptly have him kicked into the gutter. I dread the touch of an impure hand; but when in the society of the great I sometimes condescend to visit the slums of the poor, though the atmosphere is not congenial to me. An erring sister I pass by as the priest and Levite did the man who fell amongst thieves. I am a social tyrant, more feared perhaps than loved, though few are so independent as not to pay me homage. To the indiscretions of the great I am a little blind, for the vices of the vulgar crowd I show no pity. The nakedness of the fashionable world does not distress me; but immodesty amongst the common herd I visit with my severest displeasure. I keep my eye on all my neighbours; should any of them trip, unless they are saved by their position I let slip my dogs and hound the miscreants outside my social pale. I ride rough shod over society, and no one dares to turn upon me. Who am I? I am society's uncrowned queen, Respectability.

It would be difficult to say at what precise period this uncrowned queen took up her abode under the roof of the bold Buccaneer; but she did, and winked at his goings on; because she looked upon him not as a robber, but as a brave sea-king, who went in quest of venture, and was far removed from the common and vulgar thief. There are other reasons which perhaps induced her to take him under her protection. The Buccaneering business was beginning to fall off, probably because other people had taken to it more thoroughly, and it is well known that competition interferes considerably with the very best of trades and professions. It is possible also that our friend having made a large fortune, was beginning to see the truth of the maxim, that honesty is the best policy. Property does undoubtedly alter ideas; take the most rabid socialist, who is for ever preaching a community of interests and endow him with a fortune, and the burden of his song is speedily changed and in a most wonderful manner. Before it was, "I take," but now it is, "I hold."

The Buccaneer's wealth had steadily increased, and so had his towns and cities. The hum from a busy multitude rose up like the murmur of the distant ocean as it dashed against the rock-bound coast. On his rivers and bays he had built dockyards, and his shipwrights' hammers could be heard sounding over the waters far and wide. His ships became celebrated for their build and rig, and his sailors were considered not only the bravest, but the most skilled in all the world.

He was a man of great resource and enterprise, was our Buccaneer, and when he found the one business falling off he at once turned his hand to another. If no one wanted either beating or robbing, they wanted their merchandise carried, so he became a carrier to the universe at large, and combined with it the business of trader. One thing begets another, and he soon found out other industries. Tall, tapering chimnies pointed like great black fingers far into the sky and vomited out thick volumes of black smoke. Then he built mills, and put up machinery, and the rattle of thousands of wheels could be heard all over the land, and the uncrowned queen moved about amongst his people and leavened them. But even in his peaceful pursuits the natural bent of his genius discovered itself, for he would frequently, for the want of a more worthy object, steal an idea from a neighbour and then set himself to work to improve upon it, and he generally turned it to good account. The Buccaneer's mind was not inventive, but it was eminently adaptive, and this is very much better, because it generally manages to suck the marrow out of the bones of genius.

Having been the greatest Buccaneer that ever ploughed the briny ocean, he now became a mighty trader—a fighting one perhaps;—fetched and carried for the whole world, and became in fact a universal provider. He often built and fitted out a ship for some neighbour who turned her guns against him; but he did not mind so long as he got his price, and he not unfrequently got the ship back into the bargain in fair and open fight. So things went merrily on.

As is well known success breeds envy and jealousy, and the Buccaneer's neighbours soon began to eye his superior good fortune with hatred and much uncharitableness. They said all kinds of hard things, as people will. Said his gains were ill gotten. But who will ever believe that vast wealth has been honestly acquired? Somebody must have been robbed say they. But if it is only a fool what matter? He and his money must sooner or later part company. At least, so it is said by those people who know everything.

The Buccaneer, of course, put his prosperity down to a different cause. He was a God-fearing and good man. Went to his church regularly; gave of what he had to the poor; and sheltered himself under the cloaks of Respectability and Religion. It is true he could not altogether divest himself of his buccaneering tendencies, and on one occasion he even robbed a church, which is considered about the last thing a man ought to do; but then if he did rob Peter he made ample amends by paying Paul very handsomely. That the Buccaneer was innately a most pious man there can be little if any doubt; he had none himself. He loved to carry his religion with him into his everyday life, and even into his business, and in this perhaps we see the reason why he selected George of Cappadocia as his patron saint. He loved to adulterate, as it were, all his merchandise with it, and he succeeded in a marvellous manner. He was very fond of texts taken from his Book, and these he would hang up in all suitable and unsuitable places. He regulated his trading transactions with his neighbours upon the principle laid down in the parable of the talents, and he took for his especial guide the man who turned his five pieces into ten; for he considered he must have been an excellent man of business; a clever fellow in fact, and one well worthy to be followed. No doubt the parable above alluded to has carried comfort to the soul of many a Jew, Turk, and even infidel. Trade is at all times, and in all places, and by all people, considered for some reason or the other dirty work, and yet it is the founder of great families, who, however, try as soon as possible, to blot out all recollection of the source of their greatness. Trade, too, is the founder and supporter of great nations. Why then is there such a prejudice against it? Is it not honest? Is its first principle, namely, to try and get the better of your neighbour in a bargain, condemned by a virtuous world? Scarcely, for to do your neighbour, to prevent the possibility of being done by him, seems to be implanted firmly in the human breast. It is a principle, in fact, which is well adhered to, and it helps considerably that law of nature which demands the survival of the fittest. Perhaps it was as a precautionary measure that the Buccaneer besprinkled himself, as it were, with holy water, before entering upon his everyday life.

It is said by the wiseacres of the world that you should always set a thief to catch a thief. Whether it was from a belief in this principle of nature, or whether it was from an innate liking for the business it would be difficult to say; but it is a fact that the Buccaneer made himself for some considerable time a policeman, to keep order amongst his neighbours, and prevent the strong from robbing and setting upon the weak. Oh! the trouble the man had! Big fellows pitching into little ones, to get either their marbles or apples! Then he not only had to keep his neighbours from robbing each other, but he had to keep them off his own property; for had they dared they would have stripped him as naked as the desert is of vegetation. The rascals!

During the time that the Buccaneer was thus doing policeman's duty he was generally pretty well employed, for there was always a row on somewhere; either some hen-roost being robbed, or some pot-house brawl to be quelled, so that all things considered he was not doing a good business. Indeed, he was getting for his trouble little more than hard blows, more kicks than half-pence, in fact.

After a while he determined to give the policeman's duty up; finding no doubt that it did not pay; and he was very much too sensible to conduct business upon such terms for any length of time. So he allowed people to mind their own business as far as they could, while he paid more attention to his own. Of course this state of things was not brought about all at once, for the force of custom is great, and for the life of him, the Buccaneer could not refrain from having an occasional finger in the pie.

The Buccaneer now doffed his pirate's dress, which, though picturesque, was not altogether respectable. People will have prejudices, and if they see a man constantly going about with a brace of pistols in his belt, and a cutlass by his side, they will think that that man is up to no good; so he hung these weapons up, quite handy, for there was no knowing when he might want them to keep off robbers either by sea or land.

But, gentle reader, do not for a moment imagine that the old man was dead—not a bit of of it. Beneath the peaceful dress he now assumed there still beat the old heart. You may cover the lion with the skin of an ass but you cannot change the nature of the beast. Our friend was as ready as ever to tread upon his neighbours' toes, and to fight with anybody who trod upon his. Then the peaceful stillness of his shores would be broken by the clack, clack of his many windlasses, and the "yo heave-ho" of his merry men. Up would go his sails, out would go his guns, poking their black, angry-looking snouts through the port-holes, as if they sniffed the enemy in the offing. Away went the Buccaneer for the main. His priests prayed; his merry seamen swore, and his women and children cried, as it was their duty to do, upon all such important and interesting occasions.

It was the boast of our Buccaneer that he never turned his back upon either friend or enemy, but in this perhaps he romanced a little, as the very best and bravest of men will. The accusation was certainly brought against him in after years. In dwelling upon our own actions a little latitude is always allowed, and the disposition to boast a little must be considered to be a pardonable weakness. Indeed, why should we detract from ourselves when there are so many kind friends and bitter enemies ever ready to render us the service and all for nothing?

He did love to dwell upon his past actions, many of which were glorious, and over his pipe and his glass he would spin many a yarn, and he would declare that there was no nobler sight than a good sea-fight, no finer music than the clash of arms, no finer scent than that which came from the muzzle of a freshly discharged gun. All this is, of course, merely a matter of opinion.

If his sons were successful, he rewarded them well, if otherwise they frequently had to play the part of the scapegoat, and were driven out into the wilderness of neglect. He worshipped success and there is nothing like it. It changes the aspect of the blackest deed, and under its mellowing influence rank rebellion, it is well known, comes out oftentimes, if not always, in the pure and beautiful light of patriotism.

It has been mentioned that our bold Buccaneer had engendered a certain amount of jealousy amongst his neighbours, who were for ever calling him hard names, and always retained the privilege of adding to the number. Such things do not break bones or otherwise injure people, more especially if nature has endowed them with good, thick, serviceable skins, and in this respect she had been considerate to the subject of our history. A good thick skin is, in this world, a tower of strength, from the top of which the fortunate ones can defy ill-nature. At times, however, a shaft did pierce through some soft and indifferently guarded spot in the Buccaneer's armour. He had fought many a good fight both by sea and land, and against long odds, and he could not bear to think, that there should be a suspicion even, that he was a bully ever ready to pitch into one smaller than himself.

There is something very offensive about the above term. Schoolboys are for ever requesting their fellows to pitch into boys their own size and calling them bullies if they will not. But has not the bully been somewhat put upon, misunderstood, and subjected to unjust obloquy? To attack one your own size is a mistake and worthy only of the immortal Don. As a rule for everyday life it would never do, and might be fraught with injustice. All virtue does not lie on the side of the small boy, who frequently by his self-sufficiency and conceit deserves a thrashing. Oftentimes he presumes upon his smallness and makes himself as disagreeable as a drowsy fly in cold weather. If a small boy be put upon by one bigger than himself, he can in turn set upon his inferior, and thus the chain of responsibility can be carried on "ad infinitum," and in the end justice will be done to all.

We are all children of nature and she has established bullying as a principle which is, by the aid of the microscope, to be detected from the mite to the man. The small of each species which she wishes to preserve, she guards and surrounds with especial attributes. The skunk is not a large animal, and yet enemies and friends alike approach him with extreme respect. Was there ever a nation yet, that was kept from thrashing and robbing another on account of its size?

Does the bully never walk about in public offices, or in private dwelling-houses? Is he never to be found on the domestic hearth? Ask the humble swain of yonder fair-haired, blue-eyed, and angel-faced damsel, if he knows what it is to be bullied? Ask the husband of many years standing if he has ever experienced the feeling? All things have their allotted functions to perform in this most complex world of ours, and no doubt the bully is as necessary as many of those minute insects whose presence is only known by the energy of their actions. So much for the bully.

His neighbours also said he was a money-grubber; a mere tradesman, but withal a proud and even prosperous man. That he could fight well had been proved on many a battle-field. What then, if now, he made a goodly income by means of trade? All love this money, yet so many pretend to despise the means by which it is obtained. To march your thousand into your neighbour's country; to lay waste his lands, to filch from him his money, and to ravish, perhaps, his daughters, has ever been considered more noble and honourable, than to sit quietly at home and allow the gold to trickle into your coffers through the peaceful channels of trade.

We have touched upon this subject with the tip only of our pen before, for we fear pollution. The trader is looked upon askance. The uncrowned queen of society turns up her dainty nose at him. The poor man knows it, and as soon as he can hides all trace of his calling. Frequently enrols himself in some civic guard and calls himself a colonel, and tries to hide under his military plumes all signs of the desk and high stool. Then as to our Buccaneer's pride. Such a thing is, no doubt, to be condemned, but its next-of-kin, namely, self-respect, is very much to be esteemed. The Buccaneer maintained that his pride amounted to this and nothing more, and he gloried in it; took it with him everywhere, more especially to his church. When he prayed he might humble himself before his God, but as regards his fellow-man he must hold his head up and claim that consideration which he considered his due. If you wished to see pride fully displayed, there could be no better place than the debatable ground of a church pew in the Buccaneer's island.

When his sons visited his neighbours or any parts called foreign, they were perhaps a little haughty and had a good-natured contempt for the people they found themselves amongst. But that they did not hail from their own fair land was, however, more their misfortune than their fault. Perhaps it is the vulgar ostentation that sometimes accompanies the acquirement of great wealth that renders it so offensive to the less fortunate.

Pride, no doubt, is not a Christian virtue, yet have I found no Christian entirely without it. The Buccaneer's High Priest and other great church dignitaries, were they humble? Yes, humble enough if you paid them the respect they thought their due; if you approached the ecclesiastical breeches and gaiters with modest diffidence. Did not contradict them—not the breeches and gaiters, but the divine beings inside them—or doubt the superiority of their learning, wisdom, and virtue, or presume to make use of that intellect which God has given you. Humble enough then; but your ordinary, and sometimes your extraordinary priests cannot brook opposition. Admit also that our Buccaneer was great, good, rich, generous, brave, and a few other things barely worth the mentioning, and he was humble enough, heaven knows. What he was almost entirely without, was that offensive pride which apes humility.

In our preliminary remarks it is necessary to mention two individuals who played a conspicuous part in the Buccaneer's realms.

We have already mentioned one honest sailor, the old coxs'n, Jack Commonsense by name; but there were two women, not to say a third, who also had a permanent abode in his island. The one was called Patriotism, the other Liberty. The first of these was allowed to live for the most part in neglect, and though at times she was made much of, her position was little better than that of a beggar woman, to-day she would sit at the table of the great, and be taken into their councils, to-morrow she would be thrust aside, and occasionally thrown into prison. She was made a shuttle-cock for the battledoor of Madam Party, who was the other celebrity above alluded to, and who pretty well ruled the roast in the Buccaneer's island. Everything had to give way to her, whilst except on extraordinary occasions the beggar woman, Patriotism, was thought but little of. Everybody swore they loved her; but men were deceivers ever, if not liars.

With Liberty it was quite a different tale, she could do pretty well what she liked, and had over our Buccaneer for good and for evil a wonderful influence. At her instigation he allowed the island to be made an asylum for rascals of every kind, who having been kicked out of their own homes, came over and plotted, and sowed broadcast among his people the most pernicious seeds, which bore their fruit in due time. Indeed, Madam Liberty played the part of a veritable wanton, and flirted with blackguards of the deepest dye. The consequence of this was, that one fine day, she gave birth to a boy, named Demos, the father being King Mob. This boy grew to be a most unruly fellow, and caused much trouble wherever he went.

It is said that neither man nor beast can stand prosperity for any length of time, the horse becomes restive, and occasionally kicks his stall to pieces, or otherwise misbehaves himself. Even the ass; the gentle and long-suffering ass, if too well fed, disturbs the whole country round, braying out in his husky tones of repletion his discontent at the very best of corn, when at one time he would have been glad enough to fill his stomach with thistles. So it was with Madam Liberty. It was through her that the Buccaneer first opened his doors to a host of cheap-Jacks, and to merchants and pedlars from all parts of the world, until in the streets of his principal sea-port towns and chief city, could be seen a strange mixture of costumes and features. Swarthy Orientals with their finely cut profiles, and proud bearing. Broad-faced, oval-eyed Mongols, who always look half asleep, but are generally found to be very wide awake. Flat-nosed, thick-lipped, woolly-headed negroes, and as a matter of course, the ubiquitous Jew was well represented. The Jew is found everywhere, but stay, exception must be made to the northern-most part of the Buccaneer's island. A Jew could not live there, not on account of the severity of the climate, though that was bad enough; but on account of the habits of the people. It is said by some that the object of the Jew is to skin the Christian and the Gentile, with the view of buying back Jerusalem, or, perhaps, the whole of the Holy Land. Many wish that this laudable desire may be accomplished, and that quickly. With all these different nationalities it was a wonder that the Buccaneer retained his individuality, or even kept his language from corruption, but he did, though a broken patter often saluted the ears, while the signs of many different races were stamped upon the faces of the people. There is a belief in the world that mongrels and cross-breeds will not fight. This is a mistake. Our Buccaneer was made up of ever so many nationalities, and yet he had fought in his day well enough. Showing, indeed, an absolute love for the fray. May not the very best blood, of the bluest kind, which flows through the veins of some haughty descendant, have taken its rise in some sturdy cur of low degree, who snapped and snarled himself to the front?

It would be as well to mention that our bold Buccaneer had had a quarrel in early times with one of his sons, who had emigrated and established himself, after the fashion peculiar to his father, on a large and fertile tract of land in the far west. This son, who was called Jonathan, was a tall, lanky, raw boned fellow, with a good head upon his shoulders and a strong will of his own. Modest diffidence had never been a stumbling block in his way. As to whose fault the quarrel was, well, some said it was entirely the old man's, but it is probable there was much to be said on both sides, and that Jonathan was not altogether blameless. At any rate blows were struck, and Jonathan handled his father somewhat roughly, and so there was an estrangement, and a separation, and Jonathan set up business for himself upon the old man's lines; except perhaps he was not quite so religious, and a great deal sharper.

Jonathan did wonderfully well. He had a keen eye for the main chance, and at driving a bargain, or getting the better of a friend, he could not be beaten. In this, to make use of an expression of his own, he pretty well licked creation. In his early days, he was not altogether scrupulous; but what he called sharp practice, other people might put down as something approaching more closely to dishonesty. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. Jonathan prospered, and cheating, it is well known, never does, so he must have been an honest fellow. He loved to do his old father; to get the better of him in a bargain, to get his money out of him either by fair means or foul. Talk to him of honour and he would laugh in your face at your squeamishness. He had many of the eminent qualities of his parent, had Jonathan. He generally managed to keep what he laid his hands upon, and as the saying is, he was not altogether the man to drink with in the dark. By trade he was a packman, or a cheap Jack.

Between Jonathan and the Ojabberaways there was a great friendship. The former used to send over money to the latter to help them in their campaign against the old gentleman. Then the Ojabberaways used to plot, and make infernal machines in Jonathan's country, and come over to the Buccaneer's island, where they frequently carried out their designs, and occasionally used the knife into the bargain.

The family of the Buccaneer in time increased to such an extent that it began to overflow the narrow limits of his island home. His sons therefore carried their zeal and energy and their manners and customs to unknown countries. Under their hands forests disappeared, lands became cultivated, and the aborigines changed their habits or cleared out. It was no business of the young chips of this ancient block, that the soil had already its owners, if not its tillers. If these people did not like the new order of things, they had an alternative. Of course the young chips would commit no act of flagrant injustice, for such would have been against the teachings of their parent's Book, but it was generally noticed that where they went they staid; and that they succeeded in the long run in clearing the land of all rubbish, using for this purpose the toes of their boots as well as their hands. Should the aborigines elect to stay, they could; but then they were made clearly to understand that they must live respectable lives. If they had anything to sell the Buccaneers bought, putting upon the articles their own price, for it could not be expected that the simple children of the soil could know the value of things. They generally gave about half of what was asked, and when the natives, to correct this, put on, to begin with, double the price they intended to take, the Buccaneers were horrified at such innate depravity, which could, as they thought, only come direct from the devil himself. The antidote was their Book. This they immediately presented to these vicious, ignorant, and immoral people, with many of the pages turned down for reference.

Wherever the Buccaneer's sons went they always took a cargo of their intoxicating drinks. These they sold to the gentle savage who showed his readiness to be civilized by getting as drunk as he could, as often as he could, thereby manifesting again his shocking depravity. The Buccaneer at home, when he heard of all this, turned up his eyes to heaven in pious horror, and immediately sent out a cargo of missionaries to counteract the evil effects of his cargoes of drink. These good people wrestled with the devil; prayed for the savages and preached to them, gave them more Bibles and explained it to them; told them to fear God; to shun the devil and all his works; begged them to give up their wicked ways and to lead new lives; to be honest and just in all their dealings; not to be extortionists; not to seek after riches, for that heaven was for the poor. Begged them to do unto others as they would be done by. In the meantime the Buccaneer's sons gave a practical illustration of this beautiful doctrine by selling strong drink and other merchandise at double and treble their value.

These missionaries were godly, self-sacrificing men, but their teachings to the untutored mind must have sounded strange, supplemented as it was by the actions of the Buccaneer's traders. Then again, they found that rival sects, although they professed to follow the same great Master, preached rival doctrines, and hated each other with a peculiar fervour. At one time they painted God as the God of love, at another time they implanted fear and horror in the heart by depicting Him as a revengeful and malicious demon, full of the worst of human failings. They taught these simple savages that life was a kind of tight rope, along which they had to walk; holding in their hands the balancing pole of religion. If they slipped, which likely as not they would, then there was God's rival underneath ready with his net to catch them, and to throw them into a fire that is never quenched.

It could not be expected that the ignorant savage would understand, all at once, the many nice distinctions of modern civilization. No doubt it must have seemed strange to him that the Buccaneer, in the face of what he preached, seldom went away empty-handed—taking indeed at times a goodly patch of land, just by way of recompense; for it was generally found, that, wherever his sons placed their feet, some of the soil always stuck to the soles of them.

Thus were the first seeds of civilization sown; but other and better things were to follow. The nakedness of the savage had to be clothed, and the long black coat and tall hat of respectability had to be introduced. The result of all this was not far to find. It was a natural consequence; for where the Buccaneer found simple human beings, worshipping God after their own way, dark if you like, but at least honest, he frequently left an accomplished lot of hypocrites, drunkards, liars, thieves and rascals generally, who having cast off the few rags of virtue which their own benighted religion had clothed them in, had put on a garment made up of most of the vices of civilization, and only stitched together with the thinnest threads of Christian virtues, which threads were liable to snap at any time. Of course this was not the fault of the Buccaneer's sons. It was entirely due to the wretched soil they had to work upon; you cannot grow figs on thistles, nor can you make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

What is civilization, do you ask? It is a veneer, sometimes thick and sometimes thin, which is thrown over human nature by culture and what not. From under this cloak the old Adam will from time to time peep out and take a good look round. Did he not peep out to some purpose amongst one of the Buccaneer's neighbours, and playing the part of Cain did he not draw his knife, called the guillotine, across many a brother's throat, kicking them unshriven into eternity? It is right to give every one their due, and it must be owned that the Buccaneer's footsteps were not always written in dust. He often found a people at war amongst themselves, and tearing each other to pieces. These he brought under subjection and gave them law and order, and if he could have kept his sons from selling strong liquors to them, and teaching them some of the pernicious principles of trade, he would have done very much good, but with his Book he took his bottle, and the latter was more readily received than the former.

It sometimes so happened that the ignorance of the heathen was so great, and their minds so clouded by prejudice, that they misunderstood altogether the nature of the missionary. Experience had taught them that the Buccaneer's Bible was generally the harbinger of the Buccaneer's sword, which he cleared the way for the Buccaneer's man of business, who, it was found, generally got the advantage in any bargain that was made. What wonder then, if the simple children of nature, the gentle savage, mistook food that was meant for the mind, as food meant for the body, and consumed the missionary instead of his teachings? This is an expensive way of converting a people, but it might be expected that a devoured missionary would not be without its effect upon the consumer. The disposition is naturally affected by the state of the body, the latter by the food that is taken in to nourish it. A violent fit of indigestion might bring on a deep remorse, and then the body would be in a proper state to receive the good seed, which taking root in the heart of one man even, might spring up and spread amongst a whole people. There is consolation here for those who have lost a friend or relation in the above manner.

By the simple methods thus related the Buccaneer managed to get an outlet for his surplus population, and he then increased his dominions, until it was his boast that the sun never set upon them. There was not a clime too inhospitable for him. He conquered not only the people but every natural disadvantage. His sons too travelled into every land as the bearers of the veneer called civilization. Their footprints could be traced upon the desert sands of Arabia. The ring of their rifles was to be heard in the remotest parts of India; on the wild prairies of America, and on the untrodden plains of Africa. They loved to beard the lion and the tiger in their native lairs; to shoot the alligator on the banks of the Nile, and the wild goats high up on the slopes of the vast snow-capped Himalayas. This to them was a pleasurable recreation, while for pastime they loved to climb the highest ice-bound peaks, and the mangled corpse of some adventurous comrade lying at the foot of some precipice in no way damped their ardour. They recovered the body, sang a pean in praise of his temerity, gently placed him in the tomb of oblivion, where so many good people lie, and then commenced their dangerous climb. They were a brave and adventurous lot were the sons of this bold Buccaneer.