In a passionate burst of enthusiasm I tore off my slouched hat and hurled it from me. It felt like the badge of some ignoble slavery, and I determined to endure it no longer. The noise of the act called up a voice from the inner room, and a man, to all appearance suddenly roused from sleep, stood at the door. He was evidently young, but poverty, dissipation, and raggedness made the question of his age a difficult one to solve. A light-colored mustache and beard covered all the lower part of his face, and his long blonde hair fell heavily over his shoulders.

"Well," cried he, half angrily, "what's the matter; are you so impatient that you must smash the furniture?"

Although the words were spoken as correctly as I have written them, they were uttered with a foreign accent; and, hazarding the stroke, I answered him in French by apologizing for the noise.

"What! a Frenchman," exclaimed he, "and in that dress; what can that mean?"

"If you'll shut your door, and cut off pursuit of me, I'll tell you every thing," said I, "for I hear the voices of people coming down that street in front."

"I'll do better," said he, quickly, "I'll upset the bridge, and they can not come over."

"That's done already," replied I; "I shoved it into the stream as I passed."

He looked at me steadily for a moment without speaking, and then approaching close to me, said, "Parbleu! the act was very unlike your costume!" At the same time he shut the door, and drew a strong bar across it. This done, he turned to me once more—"Now for it: who are you, and what has happened to you?"

"As to what I am," replied I, imitating his own abruptness, "my dress will almost save the trouble of explaining; these Albany folk, however, would make a field-preacher of me, and to escape them I took to flight."

"Well, if a fellow will wear his hair that fashion, he must take the consequence," said he, drawing out my long lank locks as they hung over my shoulders. "And so you wouldn't hold forth for them; not even give them a stave of a conventical chant." He kept his eyes riveted on me as he spoke, and then seizing two pieces of stick for the firewood, he beat on the table the ran-tan-plan of the French drum. "That's the music you know best, lad, eh?—that's the air, which, if it has not led heavenward, has conducted many a brave fellow out of this world at least: do you forget it?"

"Forget it! no," cried I; "but who are you; and how comes it that—that—" I stopped in confusion at the rudeness of the question I had begun.

"That I stand here, half-fed, and all but naked; a barber in a land where men don't shave once a month. Parbleu! they'd come even seldomer to my shop if they knew how tempted I feel to draw the razor sharp and quick across the gullet of a fellow with a well-stocked pouch."

As he continued to speak, his voice assumed a tone and cadence that sounded familiarly to my ears as I stared at him in amazement.

"Not know me yet," exclaimed he, laughing; "and yet all this poverty and squalor isn't as great a disguise as your own, Tiernay. Come, lad, rub your eyes a bit, and try if you can't recognize an old comrade."

"I know you, yet can not remember how or where we met," said I, in bewilderment.

"I'll refresh your memory," said he, crossing his arms, and drawing himself proudly up. "If you can trace back in your mind to a certain hot and dusty day, on the Metz road, when you, a private in the seventh Hussars, were eating an onion and a slice of black bread for your dinner, a young officer, well-looking and well-mounted, cantered up, and threw you his brandy flask. Your acknowledgment of the civility showed you to be a gentleman; and the acquaintance thus opened, soon ripened into intimacy."

"But he was the young Marquis de Saint Trone," said I, perfectly remembering the incident.

"Or Eugene Santron, of the republican army, or the barber at Albany, without any name at all," said he, laughing. "What, Maurice, don't you know me yet?"

"What, the lieutenant of my regiment! The dashing officer of Hussars!"

"Just so, and as ready to resume the old skin as ever," cried he, "and brandish a weapon somewhat longer, and perhaps somewhat sharper, too, than a razor."

We shook hands with all the cordiality of old comrades, meeting far away from home, and in a land of strangers; and although each was full of curiosity to learn the other's history, a kind of reserve held back the inquiry, till Santron said, "My confession is soon made, Maurice; I left the service in the Meuse, to escape being shot. One day, on returning from a field manœuvre, I discovered that my portmanteau had been opened, and a number of letters and papers taken out. They were part of a correspondence I held with old General Lamarre, about the restoration of the Bourbons, a subject, I'm certain, that half the officers in the army were interested in, and, even to Bonaparte himself, deeply implicated in too. No matter, my treason, as they called it, was too flagrant, and I had just twenty minutes' start of the order which was issued for my arrest, to make my escape into Holland. There I managed to pass several months in various disguises, part of the time being employed as a Dutch spy, and actually charged with an order to discover tidings of myself, until I finally got away in an Antwerp schooner, to New York. From that time my life has been nothing but a struggle, a hard one, too, with actual want, for in this land of enterprise and activity, mere intelligence, without some craft or calling, will do nothing.

"I tried fifty things—to teach riding, and when I mounted into the saddle, I forgot everything but my own enjoyment, and caracolled, and plunged, and passaged, till the poor beast hadn't a leg to stand on; fencing, and I got into a duel with a rival teacher, and ran him through the neck, and was obliged to fly from Halifax; French, I made love to my pupil, a pretty looking Dutch fraulein, whose father didn't smile on our affection; and so on I descended from a dancing-master to a waiter, a laquais de place, and at last settled down as a barber, which brilliant speculation I had just determined to abandon this very night; for to-morrow morning, Maurice, I start for New York and France again; ay, boy, and you'll go with me. This is no land for either of us."

"But I have found happiness, at least contentment, here," said I, gravely.

"What! play the hypocrite with an old comrade! shame on you, Maurice," cried he. "It is these confounded locks have perverted the boy," added he, jumping up; and before I knew what he was about, he had shorn my hair, in two quick cuts of the scissors, close to the head. "There," said he, throwing the cut-off hair toward me, "there lies all your saintship; depend upon it, boy, they'd hunt you out of the settlement if you came back to them cropped in this fashion."

"But you return to certain death, Santron," said I; "your crime is too recent to be forgiven or forgotten."

"Not a bit of it; Fouche, Cassaubon, and a dozen others now in office, were deeper than I was. There's not a public man in France could stand an exposure, or hazard recrimination. It's a thieves' amnesty at this moment, and I must not lose the opportunity. I'll show you letters that will prove it, Maurice; for, poor and ill-fed as I am, I like life just as well as ever I did. I mean to be a general of division one of these days, and so will you too, lad, if there's any spirit left in you."

Thus did Santron rattle on, sometimes of himself and his own future; sometimes discussing mine; for while talking, he had contrived to learn all the chief particulars of my history, from the time of my sailing from La Rochelle for Ireland.

The unlucky expedition afforded him great amusement, and he was never weary of laughing at all our adventures and mischances in Ireland. Of Humbert, he spoke as a fourth or fifth-rate man, and actually shocked me by all the heresies he uttered against our generals, and the plan of campaign; but, perhaps, I could have borne even these better than the sarcasms and sneers at the little life of "the settlement." He treated all my efforts at defense as mere hypocrisy, and affected to regard me as a mere knave, that had traded on the confiding kindness of these simple villagers. I could not undeceive him on this head; nor what was more, could I satisfy my own conscience that he was altogether in the wrong; for, with a diabolical ingenuity, he had contrived to hit on some of the most vexatious doubts which disturbed my mind, and instinctively to detect the secret cares and difficulties that beset me. The lesson should never be lost on us, that the devil was depicted as a sneerer! I verily believe the powers of temptation have no such advocacy as sarcasm. Many can resist the softest seductions of vice: many are proof against all the blandishments of mere enjoyment, come in what shape it will; but how few can stand firm against the assaults of clever irony, or hold fast to their convictions when assailed by the sharp shafts of witty depreciation.

I'm ashamed to own how little I could oppose to all his impertinences about our village, and its habits; or how impossible I found it not to laugh at his absurd descriptions of a life which, without having ever witnessed, he depicted with a rare accuracy. He was shrewd enough not to push this ridicule offensively, and long before I knew it I found myself regarding, with his eyes, a picture in which, but a few months back, I stood as a fore-ground figure. I ought to confess, that no artificial aid was derived from either good cheer, or the graces of hospitality; we sat by a miserable lamp, in a wretchedly cold chamber, our sole solace some bad cigars, and a can of flat, stale cider.

"I have not a morsel to offer you to eat, Maurice, but to-morrow we'll breakfast on my razors, dine on that old looking-glass, and sup on two hard brushes and the wig!"

Such were the brilliant pledges, and we closed a talk which the flickering lamp at last put an end to.

A broken, unconnected conversation followed for a little time, but at length, worn out and wearied, each dropped off to sleep—Eugene on the straw settle, and I in the old chair—never to awake till the bright sun was streaming in between the shutters, and dancing merrily on the tiled floor.

An hour before I awoke he had completed the sale of all his little stock in trade, and, with a last look round the spot where he had passed some months of struggling poverty, out we sallied into the town.

"We'll breakfast at Jonathan Hone's," said Santron. "It's the first place here. I'll treat you to rump steaks, pumpkin pie, and a gin twister that will astonish you. Then, while I'm arranging for our passage down the Hudson, you'll see the hospitable banker, and tell him how to forward all his papers, and so forth, to the settlement, with your respectful compliments and regrets, and the rest of it."

"But am I to take leave of them in this fashion?" asked I.

"Without you want me to accompany you there, I think it's by far the best way," said he, laughingly. "If, however, you think that my presence and companionship will add any lustre to your position, say the word and I'm ready. I know enough of the barber's craft now to make up a head 'en Puritan,' and, if you wish, I'll pledge myself to impose upon the whole colony."

Here was a threat there was no mistaking; and any imputation of ingratitude on my part were far preferable to the thought of such an indignity. He saw his advantage at once, and boldly declared that nothing should separate us.

"The greatest favor, my dear Maurice, you can ever expect at my hands is, never to speak of this freak of yours; or, if I do, to say that you performed the part to perfection."

My mind was in one of those moods of change when the slightest impulse is enough to sway it, and more from this cause than all his persuasion, I yielded; and the same evening saw me gliding down the Hudson, and admiring the bold Kaatskills, on our way to New York.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Paganini was in all respects a very singular being, and an interesting subject to study. His talents were by no means confined to his wonderful powers as a musician. On other subjects he was well-informed, acute, and conversible, of bland and gentle manners, and in society, perfectly well-bred. All this contrasted strangely with the dark, mysterious stories which were bruited abroad, touching some passages in his early life. But outward semblance and external deportment are treacherous as quicksands, when taken as guides by which to sound the real depths of human character. Lord Byron remarks, that his pocket was once picked by the civilest gentleman he ever conversed with, and that by far the mildest individual of his acquaintance was the remorseless Ali Pacha of Yanina. The expressive lineaments of Paganini told a powerful tale of passions which had been fearfully excited, which might be roused again from temporary slumber, or were exhausted by indulgence and premature decay, leaving deep furrows to mark their intensity. Like the generality of his countrymen, he looked much older than he was. With them, the elastic vigor of youth and manhood rapidly subsides into an interminable and joyless old age, numbering as many years, but with far less both of physical and mental faculty to render them endurable, than the more equally poised gradations of our northern clime. It is by no means unusual to encounter a well developed Italian, whiskered to the eye-brows, and "bearded like the pard," who tells you, to your utter astonishment, that he is scarcely seventeen, when you have set him down from his appearance as, at least, five-and-thirty.

The following extract from Colonel Montgomery Maxwell's book of Military Reminiscences, entitled "My Adventures," dated Genoa, February 22d, 1815, supplies the earliest record which has been given to the public respecting Paganini, and affords authentic evidence that some of the mysterious tales which heralded his coming were not without foundation. He could scarcely have been at this time thirty years old. "Talking of music, I have become acquainted with the most outré, most extravagant, and strangest character I ever beheld, or heard, in the musical line. He has just been emancipated from durance vile, where he has been for a long time incarcerated on suspicion of murder. His long figure, long neck, long face, and long forehead; his hollow and deadly pale cheek, large black eye, hooked nose, and jet black hair, which is long, and more than half hiding his expressive Jewish face; all these rendered him the most extraordinary person I ever beheld. There is something scriptural in the tout ensemble of the strange physiognomy of this uncouth and unearthly figure. Not that, as in times of old, he plays, as Holy Writ tells us, on a ten-stringed instrument; on the contrary, he brings the most powerful, the most wonderful, and the most heart-rending tones from one string. His name is Paganini; he is very improvident and very poor. The D——s, and the Impressario of the theatre got up a concert for him the other night, which was well attended, and on which occasion he electrified the audience. He is a native of Genoa, and if I were a judge of violin playing, I would pronounce him the most surprising performer in the world!"

That Paganini was either innocent of the charge for which he suffered the incarceration Colonel Maxwell mentions, or that it could not be proved against him, may be reasonably inferred from the fact that he escaped the galleys or the executioner. In Italy, there was then, par excellence (whatever there may be now), a law for the rich, and another for the poor. As he was without money, and unable to buy immunity, it is charitable to suppose he was entitled to it from innocence. A nobleman, with a few zecchini, was in little danger of the law, which confined its practice entirely to the lower orders. I knew a Sicilian prince, who most wantonly blew a vassal's brains out, merely because he put him in a passion. The case was not even inquired into. He sent half a dollar to the widow of the defunct (which, by the way, he borrowed from me, and never repaid), and there the matter ended. Lord Nelson once suggested to Ferdinand IV. of Naples, to try and check the daily increase of assassination, by a few salutary executions. "No, no," replied old Nasone, who was far from being as great a fool as he looked, "that is impossible. If I once began that system, my kingdom would soon be depopulated. One half my subjects would be continually employed in hanging the remainder."

Among other peculiarities, Paganini was an incarnation of avarice and parsimony, with a most contradictory passion for gambling. He would haggle with you for sixpence, and stake a rouleau on a single turn at rouge et noir. He screwed you down in a bargain as tightly as if you were compressed in a vice; yet he had intervals of liberality, and sometimes did a generous action. In this he bore some resemblance to the celebrated John Elwes, of miserly notoriety, who deprived himself of the common necessaries of life, and lived on a potato skin, but sometimes gave a check for £100 to a public charity, and contributed largely to private subscriptions. I never heard that Paganini actually did this, but once or twice he played for nothing, and sent a donation to the Mendicity, when he was in Dublin.

When he made his engagement with me, we mutually agreed to write no orders, expecting the house to be quite full every night, and both being aware that the "sons of freedom," while they add nothing to the exchequer, seldom assist the effect of the performance. They are not given to applaud vehemently; or, as Richelieu observes, "in the right places." What we can get for nothing we are inclined to think much less of than that which we must purchase. He who invests a shilling will not do it rashly, or without feeling convinced that value received will accrue from the risk. The man who pays is the real enthusiast; he comes with a predetermination to be amused, and his spirit is exalted accordingly. Paganini's valet surprised me one morning, by walking into my room, and, with many "eccellenzas" and gesticulations of respect, asking me to give him an order. I said, "Why do you come to me? Apply to your master—won't he give you one?" "Oh, yes; but I don't like to ask him." "Why not?" "Because he'll stop the amount out of my wages!" My heart relented; I gave him the order, and paid Paganini the dividend. I told him what it was, thinking, as a matter of course, he would return it. He seemed uncertain for a moment, paused, smiled sardonically, looked at the three and sixpence, and with a spasmodic twitch, deposited it in his own waistcoat pocket instead of mine. Voltaire says, "no man is a hero to his valet de chambre," meaning, thereby, as I suppose, that being behind the scenes of every-day life, he finds out that Marshal Saxe, or Frederick the Great, is as subject to the common infirmities of our nature, as John Nokes or Peter Styles. Whether Paganini's squire of the body looked on his master as a hero, in the vulgar acceptation of the word, I can not say, but in spite of his stinginess, which he writhed under, he regarded him with mingled reverence and terror. "A strange person, your master," observed I. "Signor," replied the faithful Sancho Panza, "e veramente grand uomo, ma da non potersi comprendere." "He is truly a great man, but quite incomprehensible." It was edifying to observe the awful importance with which Antonio bore the instrument nightly intrusted to his charge to carry to and from the theatre. He considered it an animated something, whether dæmon or angel he was unable to determine, but this he firmly believed, that it could speak in actual dialogue when his master pleased, or become a dumb familiar by the same controlling volition. This especial violin was Paganini's inseparable companion. It lay on his table before him as he sat meditating in his solitary chamber; it was placed by his side at dinner, and on a chair within his reach when in bed. If he woke, as he constantly did, in the dead of night, and the sudden estro of inspiration seized him, he grasped his instrument, started up, and on the instant perpetuated the conception which otherwise he would have lost forever. This marvelous Cremona, valued at four hundred guineas, Paganini, on his death-bed, gave to De Kontski, his nephew and only pupil, himself an eminent performer, and in his possession it now remains.

When Paganini was in Dublin at the musical festival of 1830, the Marquis of Anglesea, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, came every night to the concerts at the theatre, and was greatly pleased with his performance. On the first evening, between the acts, his Excellency desired that he might be brought round to his box to be introduced, and paid him many compliments. Lord Anglesea was at that time residing in perfect privacy with his family, at Sir Harcourt Lees' country house, near Blackrock, and expressed a wish to get an evening from the great violinist, to gratify his domestic circle. The negotiation was rather a difficult one, as Paganini was, of all others, the man who did nothing, in the way of business, without an explicit understanding, and a clearly-defined con-sid-e-ra-ti-on. He was alive to the advantage of honor, but he loved money with a paramount affection. I knew that he had received enormous terms, such as £150 and £200 for fiddling at private parties in London, and I trembled for the viceregal purse; but I undertook to manage the affair, and went to work accordingly. The aid-de-camp in waiting called with me on Paganini, was introduced in due form, and handed him a card of invitation to dinner, which, of course, he received and accepted with ceremonious politeness. Soon after the officer had departed, he said, suddenly, "This is a great honor, but am I expected to bring my instrument?" "Oh, yes," I replied, "as a matter of course—the Lord Lieutenant's family wish to hear you in private." "Caro amico," rejoined he, with petrifying composure, "Paganini con violino é Paganini senza violino,—ecco due animali distinti." "Paganini with his fiddle, and Paganini without it, are two very different persons." I knew perfectly what he meant, and said, "The Lord Lieutenant is a nobleman of exalted rank and character, liberal in the extreme, but he is not Crœsus; nor do I think you could, with any consistency, receive such an honor as dining at his table, and afterward send in a bill for playing two or three tunes in the evening." He was staggered; and asked, "What do you advise?" I said, "Don't you think a present, in the shape of a ring, or a snuff-box, or something of that sort, with a short inscription, would be a more agreeable mode of settlement?" He seemed tickled by this suggestion, and closed with it at once. I dispatched the intelligence through the proper channel, that the violin and the gran maestro would both be in attendance. He went in his very choicest mood, made himself extremely agreeable, played away, unsolicited, throughout the evening, to the delight of the whole party; and on the following morning, a gold snuff-box was duly presented to him, with a few complimentary words engraved on the lid.

A year or two after this, when Paganini was again in England, I thought another engagement might be productive, as his extraordinary attraction appeared still to increase. I wrote to him on the subject, and soon received a very courteous communication, to the effect, that, although he had not contemplated including Ireland in his tour, yet he had been so impressed by the urbanity of the Dublin public, and had, moreover, conceived such a personal esteem for my individual character, that he might be induced to alter his plans, at some inconvenience, provided always I could make him a more enticing proposal than the former one. I was here completely puzzled, as, on that occasion, I gave him a clear two-thirds of each receipt, with a bonus of £25 per night, in addition, for two useless coadjutors. I replied, that having duly deliberated on his suggestion, and considered the terms of our last compact, I saw no possible means of placing the new one in a more alluring shape, except by offering him the entire produce of the engagement. After I had dispatched my letter, I repented bitterly, and was terrified lest he should think me serious, and hold me to the bargain; but he deigned no answer, and this time I escaped for the fright I had given myself. When in London, I called to see him, and met with a cordial reception; but he soon alluded to the late correspondence, and half seriously said, "That was a curious letter you wrote to me, and the joke with which you concluded it, by no means a good one." "Oh," said I, laughing, "it would have been much worse if you had taken me at my word." He then laughed, too, and we parted excellent friends. I never saw him again. He returned to the Continent, and died, having purchased the title of Baron, with a patent of nobility, from some foreign potentate, which, with his accumulated earnings, somewhat dilapidated by gambling, he bequeathed to his only son. Paganini was the founder of his school, and the original inventor of those extraordinary tours de force with which all his successors and imitators are accustomed to astonish the uninitiated. But he still stands at the head of the list, although eminent names are included in it, and is not likely to be pushed from his pedestal.

THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THO^S MORE.[2]

LIBELLUS A MARGARETA MORE,
QUINDECIM ANNOS NATA, CHELSEIÆ INCEPTVS.

"Nulla dies sine linea."

Hearde mother say to Barbara, "Be sure the sirloin is well basted for y^e king's physician:" which avised me that Dr. Linacre was expected. In truth, he returned with father in y^e barge; and they tooke a turn on y^e river bank before sitting down to table; I noted them from my lattice; and anon, father, beckoning me, cries, "Child, bring out my favorite Treatyse on Fisshynge, printed by Wynkyn de Worde; I must give the doctor my loved passage."

Joyning 'em with y^e book, I found father telling him of y^e roach, dace, chub, barbel, etc., we oft catch opposite y^e church; and hastilie turning over y^e leaves, he beginneth with unction to read y^e passage ensuing, which I love to y^e full as much as he:—

He observeth, if the angler's sport shoulde fail him, "he at y^e best hathe his holsom walk and mery at his ease, a swete ayre of the swete savour of y^e meade of flowers, that maketh him hungry; he heareth the melodious harmonie of fowles, he seeth y^e young swans herons, ducks, cotes, and manie other fowles, with theire broods, which me seemeth better than alle y^e noise of hounds, faukenors, and fowlers can make. And if the angler take fysshe, then there is noe man merrier than he is in his spryte." And, "Ye shall not use this forsaid crafty disporte for no covetysnesse in the encreasing and sparing of your money onlie, but pryncipallie for your solace, and to cause the health of your bodie, and speciallie of your soule, for when ye purpose to goe on your disportes of fysshynge, ye will not desire greatlie manie persons with you, which woulde lett you of your game. And thenne ye may serve God devoutlie, in saying affectuouslie your customable prayer; and thus doing, ye shall eschew and voyd manie vices."

"Angling is itselfe a vice," cries Erasmus from y^e thresholde; "for my part I will fish none, save and except for pickled oysters."

"In the regions below," answers father; and then laughinglie tells Linacre of his firste dialogue with Erasmus, who had beene feasting in my Lord Mayor's cellar:—"'Whence come you?' 'From below.' 'What were they about there?' 'Eating live oysters, and drinking out of leather jacks.' 'Either you are Erasmus,' etc. 'Either you are More or nothing.'"

"'Neither more nor less,' you should have rejoyned," sayth the doctor.

"How I wish I had," says father; "don't torment me with a jest I might have made and did not make; 'speciallie to put downe Erasmus."

"Concedo nulli," sayth Erasmus.

"Why are you so lazy?" asks Linacre; "I am sure you can speak English if you will."

"Soe far from it," sayth Erasmus, "that I made my incapacitie an excuse for declining an English rectory. Albeit, you know how Wareham requited me; saying, in his kind, generous way, I served the Church more by my pen than I coulde by preaching sermons in a countrie village."

Sayth Linacre, "The archbishop hath made another remark, as much to y^e purpose: to wit, that he has received from you the immortalitie which emperors and kings cannot bestow."

"They cannot even bid a smoking sirloin retain its heat an hour after it hath left the fire," sayth father. "Tilly-vally! as my good Alice says,—let us remember the universal doom, 'fruges consumere nati,' and philosophize over our ale and bracket."

"Not Cambridge ale, neither," sayth Erasmus.

"Will you never forget that unlucky beverage?" sayth father. "Why, man, think how manie poore scholars there be, that content themselves, as I have hearde one of St. John's declare, with a penny piece of beef amongst four, stewed into pottage with a little salt and oatmeal; and that after fasting from four o'clock in the morning! Say grace for us this daye, Erasmus, with goode heart."

At table, discourse flowed soe thicke and faste that I mighte aim in vayn to chronicle it—and why should I? dwelling as I doe at y^e fountayn head? Onlie that I find pleasure, alreadie, in glancing over the foregoing pages whensoever they concern father and Erasmus, and wish they were more faithfullie recalled and better writ. One thing sticks by me,—a funny reply of father's to a man who owed him money and who put him off with "Memento Morieris." "I bid you," retorted father, "Memento Mori Æris, and I wish you woulde take as goode care to provide for y^e one as I do for the other."

Linacre laughed much at this, and sayd,—"That was real wit; a spark struck at the moment; and with noe ill-nature in it, for I am sure your debtor coulde not help laughing."

"Not he," quoth Erasmus. "More's drollerie is like that of a young gentlewoman of his name, which shines without burning." ... and, oddlie enow, he looked acrosse at me. I am sure he meant Bess.

Father broughte home a strange gueste to-daye,—a converted Jew, with grizzlie beard, furred gown, and eyes that shone like lamps lit in dark cavernes. He had beene to Benmarine and Tremeçen, to y^e Holie Citie and to Damascus, to Urmia and Assyria, and I think alle over y^e knowne world; and tolde us manie strange tales, one hardlie knew how to believe; as, for example, of a sea-coast tribe, called y^e Balouches, who live on fish and build theire dwellings of the bones. Alsoe, of a race of his countrie-men beyond Euphrates who believe in Christ, but know nothing of y^e Pope; and of whom were y^e Magians y^t followed y^e Star. This agreeth not with our legend. He averred that, though soe far apart from theire brethren, theire speech was y^e same, and even theire songs; and he sang or chaunted one which he sayd was common among y^e Jews alle over y^e world, and had beene so ever since theire citie was ruinated and y^e people captivated, and yet it was never sett down by note. Erasmus, who knows little or nought of Hebrew, listened to y^e words with curiositie, and made him repeate them twice or thrice: and though I know not y^e character, it seemed to me they sounded thus:—

Though Christianish, he woulde not eat pig's face; and sayd swine's flesh was forbidden by y^e Hebrew law for its unwholesomenesse in hot countries and hot weather, rather than by way of arbitrarie prohibition. Daisy took a great dislike to this man, and woulde not sit next him.

In the hay-field alle y^e evening. Swathed father in a hay-rope, and made him pay y^e fine, which he pretended to resist. Cecy was just about to cast one round Erasmus, when her heart failed and she ran away, colouring to y^e eyes. He sayd, he never saw such pretty shame. Father reclining on y^e hay, with head on my lap and his eyes shut, Bess asked if he were asleep. He made answer, "Yes, and dreaming." I askt, "Of what?" "Of a far-off future daye, Meg; when thou and I shall looke back on this hour, and this hay-field, and my head on thy lap."

"Nay, but what a stupid dream, Mr. More," says mother. "Why, what woulde you dreame of, Mrs. Alice?" "Forsooth, if I dreamed at alle, when I was wide awake, it shoulde be of being Lord Chancellor at y^e leaste." "Well, wife, I forgive thee for not saying at the most. Lord Chancellor quotha! And you woulde be Dame Alice, I trow, and ride in a whirlecote, and keep a Spanish jennet, and a couple of grey hounds, and wear a train before and behind, and carry a jerfalcon on your fist." "On my wrist." "No, that's not such a pretty word as t'other! Go to, go!"

Straying from y^e others, to a remote corner of the meadow, or ever I was aware, I came close upon Gammer Gurney, holding somewhat with much care. "Give ye good den, Mistress Meg," quoth she, "I cannot abear to rob y^e birds of theire nests; but I knows you and yours be kind to dumb creatures, soe here's a nest o' young owzels for ye—and I can't call 'em dumb nowther, for they'll sing bravelie some o' these days." "How hast fared, of late, Gammer?" quoth I. "Why, well enow for such as I," she made answer; "since I lost y^e use o' my right hand, I can nowther spin, nor nurse sick folk, but I pulls rushes, and that brings me a few pence, and I be a good herbalist; and, because I says one or two English prayers and hates y^e priests, some folks thinks me a witch." "But why dost hate y^e priests?" quoth I. "Never you mind," she gave answer, "I've reasons manie; and for my English prayers, they were taught me by a gentleman I nursed, that's now a saint in heaven, along with poor Joan."

And soe she hobbled off, and I felt kindlie towards her, I scarce knew why—perhaps because she spake soe lovingly of her dead sister, and because of that sister's name. My mother's name was Joan.

Erasmus is gone. His last saying to father was, "They will have you at court yet;" and father's answer, "When Plato's year comes round."

To me he gave a copy, how precious! of his Testament. "You are an elegant Latinist, Margaret," he was pleased to say, "but, if you woulde drink deeplie of y^e well-springs of wisdom, applie to Greek. The Latins have onlie shallow rivulets; the Greeks, copious rivers, running over sands of gold. Read Plato; he wrote on marble, with a diamond; but above alle, read y^e New Testament. 'Tis the key to the kingdom of heaven."

To Mr. Gunnel, he said, smiling, "Have a care of thyself, dear Gonellus, and take a little wine for thy stomach's sake. The wages of most scholars nowadays, are weak eyes, ill-health, an empty purse, and shorte commons. I neede only bid thee beware of the two first."

To Bess, "Farewell, Bessy; thank you for mending my bad Latin. When I write to you, I will be sure to signe myselfe 'Roterodamius.' Farewell, sweete, Cecil; let me always continue your 'desired amiable.' And you, Jacky,—love your book a little more."

"Jack's deare mother, not content with her girls," sayth father, "was alwaies wishing for a boy, and at last she had one that means to remain a boy alle his life."

"The Dutch schoolmasters thoughte me dulle and heavie," sayth Erasmus, "soe there is some hope of Jacky yet." And soe, stepped into y^e barge, which we watched to Chelsea Reach. How dulle the house has beene ever since! Rupert and William have had me into y^e pavillion to hear y^e plot of a miracle-play they have alreadie begunne to talk over for Christmasse, but it seemed to me downrighte rubbish. Father sleeps in towne to-nighte, soe we shall be stupid enow. Bessy hath undertaken to work father a slipper for his tender foot; and is happie, tracing for y^e pattern our three moor-cocks and colts; but I am idle and tiresome.

If I had paper, I woulde beginne my projected opus; but I dare not ask Gunnel for anie more just yet; nor have anie money to buy some. I wish I had a couple of angels. I think I shall write to father for them to-morrow; he alwaies likes to heare from us if he is twenty-four hours absent, providing we conclude not with "I have nothing more to say."

I have writ my letter to father. I almoste wish, now, that I had not sent it.

Rupert and Will still full of theire moralitie, which reallie has some fun in it. To ridicule y^e extravagance of those who, as the saying is, carry theire farms and fields on theire backs, William proposes to come in, all verdant, with a reall model of a farm on his back and a windmill on his head.

How sweete, how gracious an answer from father! John Harris has broughte me with it y^e two angels; less prized than this epistle.

July 10.

Sixteenth birthdaye. Father away, which made it sadde. Mother gave me a payr of blue hosen with silk clocks; Mr. Gunnel, an ivorie handled stylus; Bess, a bodkin for my hair; Daisy, a book-mark; Mercy, a saffron cake; Jack, a basket; and Cecil, a nosegay. William's present was fayrest of alle, but I am hurte with him and myselfe: for he offered it soe queerlie and tagged it with such.... I refused it, and there's an end. 'Twas unmannerlie and unkinde of me, and I've cried aboute it since.

Father alwaies gives us a birthdaye treat; soe, contrived that mother shoulde take us to see my Lord Cardinal of York goe to Westminster in state. We had a merrie water-party; got goode places and saw the show; crosse-bearers, pillar-bearers, ushers and alle. Himselfe in crimson engrayned sattin, and tippet of sables, with an orange in his hand helde to 's nose, as though y^e common ayr were too vile to breathe. What a pompous priest it is! The archbishop mighte well say, "That man is drunk with too much prosperitie."

Between dinner and supper, we had a fine skirmish in y^e straits of Thermopylæ. Mr. Gunnel headed the Persians, and Will was Leonidas, with a swashing buckler, and a helmet a yard high; but Mr. Gunnel gave him such a rap on the crest that it went over y^e wall; soe then William thought there was nothing left for him but to die. Howbeit, as he had beene layd low sooner than he had reckoned on, he prolonged his last agonies a goode deal, and gave one of y^e Persians a tremendous kick just as they were aboute to rifle his pouch. They therefore thoughte there must be somewhat in it they shoulde like to see; soe, helde him down in spite of his hitting righte and lefte, and pulled therefrom, among sundrie lesser matters, a carnation knot of mine. Poor varlet, I wish he would not be so stupid....

After supper, mother proposed a concert; and we were alle singing a rounde, when, looking up, I saw father standing in y^e door-way, with such a happy smile on his face! He was close behind Rupert and Daisy, who were singing from y^e same book, and advertised them of his coming by gentlie knocking theire heads together; but I had the firste kiss, even before mother, because of my birthdaye.

It turns out that father's lateness yester-even was caused by press of businesse; a forayn mission having beene proposed to him, which he resisted as long as he could, but was at lengthe reluctantlie induced to accept. Length of his stay uncertayn, which casts a gloom on alle; but there is soe much to doe as to leave little time to think, and father is busiest of alle; yet hath founde leisure to concert with mother for us a journey into y^e country, which will occupy some of y^e weeks of his absence. I am full of carefulle thoughts and forebodings, being naturallie of too anxious a disposition. Oh, let me caste alle my cares on another! Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te.

'Tis soe manie months agone since that I made an entry in my libellus, as that my motto—"nulla dies sine linea—," hath somewhat of sarcasm in it. How manie things doe I beginne and leave unfinisht! and yet, less from caprice than lack of strength; like him of whom y^e scripture was writ—"this man beganne to build and was not able to finish." My opus, for instance; the which my father's prolonged absence in y^e autumn and my winter visitt to aunt Nan and aunt Fan gave me such leisure to carrie forward. But alack! leisure was less to seeke than learninge; and when I came back to mine olde taskes, leisure was awanting too; and then, by reason of my sleeping in a separate chamber, I was enabled to steale hours from y^e earlie morn and hours from y^e night, and, like unto Solomon's virtuous woman, my candle went not out. But 'twas not to purpose y^t I worked, like y^e virtuous woman, for I was following a Jack-o-lantern; having forsooke y^e straight path laid downe by Erasmus for a foolish path of mine owne; and soe I toyled, and blundered, and puzzled, and was mazed; and then came on that payn in my head. Father sayd, "What makes Meg soe pale!" and I sayd not: and, at y^e last, I tolde mother there was somewhat throbbing and twisting in y^e back of mine head like unto a little worm that woulde not die; and she made answer, "Ah, a maggot," and soe by her scoff I was shamed. Then I gave over mine opus, but y^e payn did not yet goe; soe then I was longing for y^e deare pleasure, and fondlie turning over y^e leaves, and wondering woulde father be surprised and pleased with it some daye, when father himself came in or ever I was aware. He sayth, "What hast thou, Meg?" I faltered and would sett it aside. He sayth, "Nay, let me see;" and soe takes it from me; and after y^e firste glance throws himself into a seat, his back to me, and firste runs it hastilie through, then beginnes with methode and such silence and gravitie as that I trembled at his side, and felt what it must be to stand a prisoner at the bar, and he y^e judge. Sometimes I thought he must be pleased, at others not: at lengthe, alle my fond hopes were ended by his crying, "This will never doe. Poor wretch, hath this then beene thy toyl? How couldst find time for soe much labor? for here hath been trouble enow and to spare. Thou must have stolen it, sweet Meg, from the night, and prevented y^e morning watch. Most dear'st! thy father's owne loved child;" and soe, caressing me till I gave over my shame and disappointment.

"I neede not to tell thee, Meg," father sayth, "of y^e unprofitable labour of Sisyphus, nor of drawing water in a sieve. There are some things, most deare one, that a woman, if she trieth, may doe as well as a man; and some she can not, and some she had better not. Now, I tell thee firmlie, since y^e first payn is y^e leaste sharpe, that, despite y^e spiritt and genius herein shewn, I am avised 'tis work thou canst not and work thou hadst better not doe. But judge for thyselfe; if thou wilt persist, thou shalt have leisure and quiet, and a chamber in my new building, and alle y^e help my gallery of books may afford. But thy father says, forbear."

Soe, what could I say, but "My father shall never speak to me in vayn!"

Then he gathered y^e papers up and sayd, "Then I shall take temptation out of your way;" and pressing 'em to his heart as he did soe, sayth, "They are as deare to me as they can be to you;" and soe left me, looking out as though I noted (but I noted not), the clear-shining Thames. 'Twas twilighte, and I stoode there I know not how long, alone and lonely; with tears coming, I knew not why, into mine eyes. There was a weight in y^e ayr, as of coming thunder; the screaming, ever and anon, of Juno and Argus, inclined me to mellancholie, as it alwaies does: and at length I beganne to note y^e moon rising, and y^e deepening clearnesse of y^e water, and y^e lazy motion of y^e barges, and y^e flashes of light whene'er y^e rowers dipt theire oars. And then I beganne to attend to y^e cries and different sounds from acrosse y^e water, and y^e tolling of a distant bell; and I felle back on mine olde heart-sighinge, "Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te."

Or ever the week was gone, my father had contrived for me another journey to New Hall, to abide with the lay nuns, as he calleth them, aunt Nan and aunt Fan, whom my step-mother loveth not, but whom I love and whom father loveth. Indeede, 'tis sayd in Essex that at first he inclined to aunt Nan rather than to my mother; but that, perceiving my mother affected his companie and aunt Nan affected it not, he diverted his hesitating affections unto her and took her to wife. Albeit, aunt Nan loveth him dearlie as a sister ought: indeed, she loveth alle, except, methinketh, herself, to whom, alone, she is rigid and severe. How holie are my aunts' lives! Cloistered nuns could not be more pure, and could scarce be as usefulle. Though wise, they can be gay; though noe longer young, they love the young. And theire reward is, the young love them; and I am fulle sure, in this world they seeke noe better.

Returned to Chelsea, I spake much in prayse of mine aunts, and of single life. On a certayn evening, we maids were sett at our needles and samplers on y^e pavillion steps; and, as follie will out, 'gan talk of what we would fayn have to our lots, shoulde a good fairie starte up and grant eache a wish. Daisy was for a countess's degree, with hawks and hounds. Bess was for founding a college, Mercy a hospital, and she spake soe experimentallie of its conditions that I was fayn to goe partners with her in the same. Cecy commenced "Supposing I were married; if once that I were married"—on which, father, who had come up unperceived, burst out laughing and sayth, "Well, dame Cecily, and what state would you keep?" Howbeit as he and I afterwards paced together, juxta fluvium, he did say, "Mercy hath well propounded the conditions of an hospital or alms-house for aged and sick folk, and 'tis a fantasie of mine to sett even such an one afoot, and give you the conduct of the same."

From this careless speech, dropped, as 'twere, by y^e way, hath sprung mine house of refuge! and oh, what pleasure have I derived from it! How good is my father! how the poor bless him! and how kind is he, through them, to me! Laying his hand kindly on my shoulder, this morning, he sayd, "Meg, how fares it with thee now? Have I cured the payn in thy head?" Then, putting the house-key into mine hand, he laughingly added, "'Tis now yours, my joy, by Livery and Seisin."

Aug. 6.

I wish William w^d give me back my Testament. Tis one thing to steal a knot or a posie, and another to borrow y^e most valuable book in y^e house and keep it week after week. He soughte it with a kind of mysterie, soe as that I forbeare to ask it of him in companie, lest I s^d doe him an ill turn; and yet I have none other occasion.

The emperor, the King of France, and Cardinal Ximenes are alle striving which shall have Erasmus, and alle in vayn. He hath refused a professor's chayr at Louvain, and a Sicilian bishoprick. E'en thus it was with him when he was here this spring—the Queen w^d have had him for her preceptor, the King and Cardinal prest on him a royall apartment and salarie, Oxford and Cambridge contended for him, but his saying was, "Alle these I value less than my libertie, my studdies, and my literarie toyls." How much greater is he than those who woulde confer on him greatness! Noe man of letters hath equall reputation or is soe much courted.

Yestereven, after overlooking the men playing at loggats, father and I strayed away along Thermopylæ into y^e home-field; and as we sauntered together under the elms, he sayth with a sigh, "Jack, is Jack, and no More ... he will never be any thing. An' 'twere not for my beloved wenches, I should be an unhappy father. But what though!—My Meg is better unto me than ten sons; and it maketh no difference at harvest time whether our corn were put into the ground by a man or a woman."

While I was turning in my mind what excuse I might make for John, father taketh me at unawares by a sudden change of subject; saying, "Come, tell me, Meg, why canst not affect Will Roper?"

I was a good while silent, at length made answer, "He is so unlike alle I esteem and admire ... so unlike alle I have been taught to esteem and admire by you."—

"Have at you," he returned laughing, "I knew not I had been sharpening weapons agaynst myself. True he is neither Achilles nor Hector, nor even Paris, but yet well enough, meseems, as times go—smarter and comelier than either Heron or Dancey."

I, faltering, made answer, "Good looks affect me but little—'tis in his better part I feel the want. He can not ... discourse, for instance, to one's mind and soul, like unto you, dear father, or Erasmus."

"I should marvel if he could," returned father gravelie, "thou art mad, my daughter, to look, in a youth of Will's years, for the mind of a man of forty or fifty. What were Erasmus and I, dost thou suppose, at Will's age? Alas, Meg, I should not like you to know what I was! Men called me the boy-sage, and I know not what, but in my heart and head was a world of sin and folly. Thou mightst as well expect Will to have my hair, eyes, and teeth, alle getting y^e worse for wear, as to have the fruits of my life-long experience, in some cases full dearly bought. Take him for what he is, match him by the young minds of his owne standing: consider how long and closelie we have known him. His parts are, surelie, not amiss: he hath more book-lore than Dancey, more mother wit than Allington."

"But why need I to concern myself about him?" I exclaymed, "Will is very well in his way: why s^d we cross each other's paths? I am young, I have much to learn, I love my studdies—why interrupt them with other and lesse wise thoughts?"

"Because nothing can be wise that is not practical," returned father, "and I teach my children philosophie to fitt them for living in y^e world, not above it. One may spend a life in dreaming over Plato, and yet goe out of it without leaving y^e world a whit y^e better for our having made part of it. 'Tis to little purpose we studdy, if it onlie makes us look for perfections in others which they may in vayn seek for in ourselves. It is not even necessary or goode for us to live entirelie with congeniall spiritts. The vigourous tempers the inert, the passionate is evened by the cool-tempered, the prosaic balances the visionarie. Woulde thy mother suit me better, dost thou suppose, if she coulde discuss polemicks like Luther or Melancthon? E'en thine owne sweet mother, Meg, was less affected to study than thou art—she learnt to love it for my sake, but I made her what she was."

And, with a suddain burste of fond recollection, he hid his eyes on my shoulder, and for a moment or soe, cried bitterlie. As for me, I shed, oh! such salt teares!...

Matters went smoothly enough between us, till the day when a girl and her mother took up their abode at the island Espiritu Sante.[3] Some business that I had to transact with the dealers in this island afforded me an opportunity of seeing her. I fell desperately in love; and as I enjoyed a certain amount of reputation, neither she nor her mother looked with an unfavorable eye on my suit or my presents. When the day's work was over, and every body supposed me asleep in my hut, I swam across to the island, whence I returned about an hour after midnight without my absence being at all surmised.

Some days had elapsed since my first nocturnal visit to Espiritu Sante, when, as I was one morning going to the fishery just before daybreak, I met one of those old crones who pretend to be able to charm the sharks by their spells. She was seated near my hut, and appeared to be watching my arrival. As she perceived me, she exclaimed, "How fares it with my son, José Juan?"

"Good morning, mother!" I replied, and was passing on, when she approached me, and said, "Listen to me, José Juan; I have to speak to you of that which nearly concerns you."

"Nearly concerns me!" I repeated, in great surprise.

"Yes. Do you deny that your heart is in the island of Espiritu Sante, or that you cross the strait every night to see and converse with her on whom you have bestowed your love?"

"How know you that?"

"No matter; I know it well. José Juan, for you this voyage is fraught with a twofold peril. The foes whom my charms can hold harmless during the day only lie in wait for you each night beneath the waves; on the shore, foes more dangerous still, and over whom my arts are powerless, dog your steps. I come to offer you my aid to combat these double dangers."

My only answer was by a loud laugh of contempt. The old Indian's eyes sparkled with fiendish fury as she exclaimed, "And because you are without faith, you deem me without power? Be it so; there are those who believe in the influence you but scoff at."

As she spoke, she drew from her pocket a little case of printed cloth, and producing amid pearls of inferior value one of a large size and brilliant water, she replied, "Know you aught of this?" It was one I had given to Jesusita; for such was the girl's name.

"How came you by it?" cried I.

The witch gave me a look of hatred.

"How came I by it? Why, 'twas given me by a damsel the fairest that ever set foot on these shores; a damsel who would be the glory and happiness of a young man, and who came to crave my protection—that protection you hold so cheap—for one she fondly loves."

"His name!" I exclaimed, with a fearful sinking at my heart.

"What matters it," jeeringly returned the hag, "since his name is not the one you bear?"

I hardly know how I resisted the impulse to crush the cursed witch beneath my feet; but after a moment's reflection, I turned my back to her that she might not read in my face the anguish of my soul, and coolly saying, "You are a lying old dotard," I walked on to the fishery.

On the evening of that day, which seemed as if it would never close, I went as usual to Jesusita, and the welcome she gave me soon dispelled all lurking suspicions. I felt no doubt but that the old woman, in resentment of my contemptuous treatment, had purposely deceived me as to the name of him for whom Jesusita had craved that protection which I had despised.

I had utterly forgotten my scene with the witch, when, one night, I was as usual crossing the strait on my return home. The sky was dark and lowering, yet not so cloudy but that I could distinguish amid the waves something which, from its manner of swimming, I could make out to be a man. The object was alongside of me. The old crone's words rushed upon my memory, and I felt a thrill of agony convulse my frame. For an enemy I cared but little; the idea that I had a rival unnerved me at once.

I determined to ascertain who the unknown might be; and not wishing to be seen, I swam under water in his direction. When, according to my calculation, we must have crossed each other, he above and I below the surface, I rose above water. The blood had rushed to my head with such violence as to render me unable for some time to distinguish aught amidst the darkness beyond the phosphorescent light that played upon the crest of the waves; unerring signs of a coming storm. Nevertheless, I held on my course in the direction of Espiritu Sante. Some few minutes elapsed ere I again beheld the swimmer's head. He clove the waves with such rapidity that I could scarce keep pace with him. But one alone among all I knew could vie with me in swiftness; I redoubled my efforts, and soon gained so much on him as obliged me to strike out less quickly. In short, I saw him land upon a rock and ascend it; and as a flash of lightning played upon sea and shore, I recognized the face of Rafael. Here, as elsewhere, were we doomed to cross each other's path. A feeling of hatred, deadly and intense, was busy at my heart, and methought it were well we met but once again. However, we were destined to meet on one more occasion than I had reckoned upon.

At first I determined upon calling him by name and discovering my presence; but there are moments in one's life when our actions refuse to second the will. Spite of myself, I suffered him to pursue his way, while I gained the eminence he had just quitted. Thence was it easy for me to watch his course. I observed him take the same direction I was so wont to take, then knock at the door of that hut I knew so well. He entered, and disappeared.

I fancied for one moment I heard, borne along the howling of the gale, the old witch's scoffing laugh as she croaked out, "What matters it to you, since his name is not the one you bear?" and, looming amid the darkness, methought I saw her shriveled and withered arm stretched out in the direction of Jesusita's dwelling; and I rushed forward, knife in hand. A few strides, and I stood before the door, and stooped down to listen; but I heard naught beyond indistinct murmurings. I had now partially recovered my sang-froid, and bent my whole thoughts upon revenge.

I drew my knife, and passed it along a stone to assure its edge; but I did so with such carelessness or agitation that it shivered to the hilt. Thus deprived of the sole weapon that I could rely upon for my revenge, I felt that I had not an instant to lose. I ran in all haste to the beach, and unmoored a boat that lay alongside. My rage renewed my energies: I crossed the strait, rushed to my hut, procured another knife, and again set out to Espiritu Sante. The gale increased in violence. The sea gleamed like a fiery lake. The gavista's[4] wailing cry re-echoed along the rocks; the sea-wolf's howl was heard amid the darkness. All at once sounds of another kind broke upon my ear: they seemed to proceed from the very bosom of the ocean. I listened; but a sudden squall overpowered the confused murmurings of the waves, and I fancied my senses had deceived me, when, some seconds afterward, the cry was repeated. This time I was not mistaken: the cry I heard was that of a human being in the very extremity of anguish and despair. As the voice proceeded from the direction of the island, I at once conjectured it was Rafael who was calling for help. I looked out, but looked in vain; the obscurity was too thick, and I could distinguish nothing. Suddenly, I again heard the voice exclaim, "Boat ahoy, for God's blessed sake!"

It was Rafael's voice. 'Tis all very well to have sworn to do your enemy to death, to wreak your just revenge on him who has so bitterly aggrieved you; yet when, on a night murky and dark as that his tones arise from forth a sea swarming with monsters, and when those tones are uttered by a fearless man, and, albeit, wrestling in mortal peril, there is in that cry of last anguish somewhat that strikes awe to the very soul. I could not repress a shudder.

But my emotion was of short duration. I heard the sounds of a strong arm buffeting the waves, and I rowed in that direction. Amidst a luminous shower of spray and foam I discovered Rafael. Singular enough, instead of availing himself of his strength to gain the boat, he remained stationary. I quickly perceived the cause. At some distance from him, a little below the surface of the water, there was a strong phosphoric light; this light was slowly making way toward Rafael. Right well I knew what that light portended; it streamed from a tintorera[5] of the largest size. One stroke of the oar, and I was close to Rafael: he uttered a cry as he perceived me, but was too much exhausted to speak. He seized the gunwale of the boat by an effort of despair, but his arms were too wearied to enable him to raise his body. His eyes, though glazed with fear, yet bore so expressive a glance as they encountered mine, that I seized his hands in my own, and pressed them forcibly against the sides of the boat. The tintorera still gradually advanced. For a moment, but one brief moment, Rafael's legs hung motionless; he uttered a piercing shriek, his eyes closed, his hands let loose their hold, and the upper part of his body fell back into the sea. The shark had bitten him in two.

Ay! I might, perchance, have grasped his limbs too firmly in mine, possibly I prevented him from getting into the boat, but my knife was innocent of his blood; besides, was he not my rival—perchance my successful rival? However, scarcely had he disappeared than I plunged after him; for although the tintorera had ridded me of a hated foe, still I bore it a grudge for its brutal proceedings in thus summarily disposing of poor Rafael. Besides, the honor of the corporation of divers was at stake. Having once tasted human flesh, the shark would doubtless attack us in turn. Well, nothing so much excites the ferocity of the tintorera as such tempestuous nights as the one that bore its silent testimony to my rival's fate. A viscous substance that oozes from porous holes around the monster's mouth diffuses itself over the surface of the skin, rendering them as luminous as fire-flies, and this particularly during a thunderstorm. This luminous appearance is the more visible in proportion to the darkness of the night. By a merciful dispensation of nature, they are almost unable to see; so that the silent swimmer has at least one advantage over them. Moreover, they can not seize their prey without turning on their backs; so that it is not difficult to imagine that a courageous man and a skillful swimmer has some chances in his favor.

I dived to no great depth, in order to husband my wind, and also to cast a hasty glance above, beneath, and around me. The waves roared above my head, loud as a crash of thunder; fiery flakes of water drove around like dust before the winds of March; but in my immediate vicinity all was calm. A black and shapeless mass struck against me as I lay suspended in my billowy recess; 'twas all that was left of Rafael. Surely it was written in the book of doom that I should always find that man in my path.

I surmised that the brute I was in quest of would be at no great distance, for the fiery streak I had perceived waxed larger and larger. The tintorera and myself must, I inferred, be at equal depths; but the shark was preparing to rise. My breath began to fail, and I was unwilling to allow the monster to get above me, as then he could have made me share Rafael's fate without troubling himself to turn on his back. My hopes of obtaining the victory over it depended upon the time it required to execute this manœuvre. The tintorera swam diagonally toward me with such rapidity that at one time I was near enough to distinguish the membrane that half-covered its eyes, and to feel its dusky fins graze my body. Gobbets of human flesh still clung around the lower jaw. The monster gazed on me with its dim, glassy eye. My head had that moment attained the level of its own. I drank in the air with a gurgle I could not suppress, and struck out a lusty stroke in a parallel direction and turned round: well for me I did so. The moon lighted up for a single instant the whitish-gray colored belly of the tintorera—that instant was enough for as it opened its enormous mouth, bristling with its double row of long pointed teeth, I plunged the dagger I had reserved for Rafael into its body, and drew it lengthwise forth. The tintorera, mortally wounded, sprung several feet out of the water, and fell striking out furiously with its tail, which fortunately did not reach me. For a space I struggled, half blinded by the crimson foam that beat against my face; but as I beheld the huge carcass of the enemy floating a lifeless mass upon the surface, I gave vent to a triumphant shout, which, spite of the storm, might be heard on either coast.

Day-light began to dawn as I gained the shore, in a state of utter exhaustion from the exertion I had undergone. The fishermen were raising their nets, and, as I arrived, the tide washed upon the coast the tintorera and Rafael's ghastly remains. It was soon spread abroad that I had endeavored to rescue my friend from his horrible fate, and my heroic conduct was lauded to the echo. But one person, and one alone, suspected the truth—that person is now my wife.