ADVENTURES OF A BOAT'S CREW.

THE following is a narrative of a most interesting character, being an account of the sufferings of Mr Clarke (the survivor of a boat's crew of eight persons), who was for six weeks drifting about the Pacific in an open boat. Mr Clarke was on a pearl-fishing expedition to the Chain Islands in March 1843; and, after stating that he landed at the Island of Tahania to prosecute the fishing, expecting to be relieved by the visit of his own or another ship, he proceeds with his

narrative :

"The time for the return of the Countess Wilton or Sophia had now expired, and being very short of provisions, I began to feel somewhat auxious, and proposed with a boat's crew to visit Hanea, an island about 45 miles south-west, to endeavour to obtain information if any vessel had called there from Tahiti, and supposing such not to have been the case, to proceed direct to Tahiti, about 250 miles distant; we next day got our boat ready (one of the Greenland fishing boats), and put into her for provisions about 30lb. of biscuit, in a bag, one small sucking pig, cooked, about four gallons of water, and six young cocoa-nuts. The following morning at daybreak, 15th of August 1844, we left-myself, four grown-up men, and three youths, in all eight persons; I also had my dog with me, besides my chest and bed. After great difficulty we got out of the harbour, and directed our course to the westward, with a nice breeze; at noon we were off the west end of the island, and sighted Taitea. I proposed remaining the night, but the natives objected, not being on good terms with them. We then stood to the south-west for Hanea. About 4 P.M. one of the natives said he saw the haze of the land, but he was mistaken. The breeze had been freshening from noon, and was now blowing pretty stiff. We kept on the same course until 10 P.M. I proposed, that as it was probable we could not get to land that night, to steer for Tahiti, as the wind was fair and strong, to which they all consented. Having no compass we had to steer by the stars, and bore away as we supposed due west. We kept the boat this course up to 2 A M., when we shipped a sea which nearly filled her to the thwart; we then rounded her to the sea, lashing the oars to make a raft, which we threw overboard, when she lay comparatively easy, attached to about four fathoms of the native rope, unshipped her mast to ease her, then had something to eat, being the first we had had since the morning previous; but found our bread saturated with salt water. We were in this state lying too,' about two hours, when the rope parted, and the boat immediately went broadside to the sea, which was breaking with violence on board her. I offered the natives several fathoms of cloth if they would leap overboard and secure the raft, but from the sea running they said it was impossible, and the boat drifting so rapidly, they could not overtake it. While we were lying to, we shipped two seas, which completely filled us. I jumped to the stern oar, and put her before the wind, while the natives bailed her. We shipped our mast again, and set the fore and aft foresail without the sprit; this we found sufficient, and with this sail we ran about eight knots an hour; we ran in this way for three days, and on the fourth at noon, I took an observation of the sun, having my sextant and epitome with me, and found ourselves eighty miles south of Tahiti, and supposed about one hundred and fifty miles to the westward. On the fourth day it began to moderate, and I proposed to the natives to haul the boat to the N.W., or as near to that point as the sea would permit; we steered to the N.W. until sundown, when we saw a flock of birds standing from the northward to the southward. The natives wished me to steer in that direction, as they were sure the land was there. On this day I put all hands on allowance, about half a pound of bread per man; this we ate each day at 4 P.M. I told the natives, when they wished me to alter the course, that I had found my lati

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tude, and knew where we were, that by steering to the northward we should probably fall in with some of the islands to the north and west of Tahiti ; but they insisted on my giving up the charge, and took the steer oar from me, which it was useless to resist, they being seven to

one.

"On the fourth day all our water was expended, and they kept running the boat about following birds until the fifth day; on this day we caught some water by means of our bucket and cans, about one quart each. On the sixth day the natives consulted what course to steer, which was determined by a majority; but they kept running her about in so many directions that I asked them to allow me to steer; they said no,-that as I had missed Tahiti they would still retain the charge. I had possession of the bread, which was allowanced, and with me, one bottle of brandy, about a pint and a half; this I mixed with my portion of water, making about two quarts of it; of this I was very careful, impressing also on the natives the necessity of being sparing with theirs. On the seventh day they killed my poor dog, without my consent; this they cooked in the saucepan, producing fire by rubing two sticks together, breaking out the sides of the boat for firewood. This they ate, and, with the blood mixed the salt water, said it made excellent soup; they offered me a portion, but I refused, he having been a great favourite.

"On the eighth day, at one of their consultations, the majority proposed that we should steer to the westward, which they did for two days, the boat running about five knots, the wind and sea in our favour. All this time our soddened bread was becoming less, and our allowance could only be about the size of a quarter of a common ship biscuit per diem. On the tenth evening we hove to, and on the morning of the eleventh day found the wind had become north-west. On this day they consulted me on the best course to steer; I told them, if they thought the wind would continue for a week, we might perchance sight some of the islands to the eastward (Society Islands), but as there was a very heavy head sea, and the boat only going two knots an hour, I told them it would be better to steer to the westward, and endeavour to make the Harvey Group; but they insisted on steering to the eastward, which they did for two days and a half. The water belonging to the natives had been out near two days; but I had still my bottle of brandy and water secreted in my chest, from which I continued to sip at night, unknown to the natives. They now slept a great deal, and spread an old mat in the bottom of the boat to lie on, which they could do, she being perfectly tight. On the thirteenth day the wind shifted to the eastward; they then ran the boat about again; not knowing where they steered, they consulted me as to Palmerston Island and Aitutaki, of which they had heard. I had all this time taken the sights to obtain the latitude, but could only guess at the longitude. I told them they were to the eastward of those islands,-that they had better steer south for the Harvey Group; but they would not take my advice.

"From this time they only ran in the day time, and lay to at nights, lest they should run past land. On the eighteenth day we discovered we had only one day's allowance of biscuit left, but on the morning of the nineteenth, I found that some of them had come aft, and stolen it from the bag while I slept. This finished the only remaining portion of that which I had fondly hoped would have certainly kept those with me alive at any rate one day longer.

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They generally ate their miserable allowance by putting it into a bottle, pouring salt water on it until it became quite soddened, and then sucking it through the opening.

"After the bread was expended, the natives gave way to the most piteous lamentations and howlings it is possible to conceive, continually bewailing their fate, and charging me with bringing them to so miserable an end.

"On this day they consulted together, and gave me charge of the boat, intimating they wished to lie down in the bottom of her, and then die; that to this end the

mast should be unshipped, and the boat kept stationary, and not run her in search of land; but I had that hope within me which never forsakes; and I put the boat to the southward, endeavouring to make the Harvey Group. On this day, having a very little coffee, I gave them a few berries each; but it only increased their desire for salt water, of which they continued to drink freely.

"This day I commenced drinking laudanum, mixed in small quantities of salt water, which produced sleepiness, and lulled my miserable feelings. When I commenced steering to the south, I was in 16 degrees.

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'Nothing particularly happened until the twenty-fourth day, when the natives having suspected me of stealing the nineteenth day's allowance, perceiving I did not suffer so much as they, searched my case while I was asleep, and discovered my medicine chest, the contents of which they drank about five ounces of castor oil, a small phial of laudanum, also a bottle of sugar of lead; they were soon overtaken by sleep from the laudanum, and two of them slept forty-eight hours without awakening. The castor oil had not the slightest effect on them. I still kept steering to the southward, and on the night of the twenty-eighth day we caught a little rain from a passing squall; the natives roused themselves, and commenced licking the boat and sails to produce saliva, but not nearly enough; this small quantity only increased their desire for more, and one of my poor fellows became insane. They having two hatchets, I persuaded them to deliver them to me with their knives, telling them the poor fellow might kill some of them and me; but I was more afraid of their retaining it than of him, as they continued threatening that if I ran the boat, and did not keep her still, they would knock out one of her timbers, and go down altogether. After these were delivered up, I felt much more at ease, throwing the knives overboard, and securing the hatchets. The absence of reason of my poor cook troubled me a great deal, as he had been one who had kept our spirits from drooping entirely by his lively conversation, and upbraiding them for finding fault with me, and reproving them for making such horrid lamentations. On the morning of the twenty-ninth day my poor fellow died, and was buried in his winding-sheet of native cloth and shirt, which was a determination they had previously come to, that when each died, not to eat him, but throw him overboard. On this day, the father of one of the boys in the boat, who was very ill, came and demanded the little water I had caught, about half a pint, from the last rain, to give him, which I did; but this did not save his life, for on the morning of the thirty-first day he died, and was buried by his father. In the afternoon of this day I had occasion to go forward to arrange some part of the jib-sheet, when the old man who had buried his son in the morning gave me a push, and overboard I went, but fortunately succeeded in catching the gunwale of the boat, and clambered up; I asked him what he meant, and he told me it was the lurch of the boat, and not he who did it. The natives gradually grew worse, and after my laudanum was drunk, I commenced drinking sugar of lead, mixed with salt water, which produced violent sickness. We had had no rain since the twenty-ninth day, and on the evening of the thirty-fifth day, two more of my crew died in dreadful agonies, gnawing the boat, and beating themselves distractedly; they had eaten all the leather from the rowlocks, as also part of the sails. On the thirty-sixth day another died, and was buried by me, as also the two previously, the others being too weak to assist; thus leaving three; but in the evening another died, and was thrown overboard, reducing our number to two. No one can judge of my feelings when I looked at the last of my unfortunate crew, and wondering whether he should throw me overboard or I him; but I had not long to wait, for on the morning of the thirty-seventh day I found him dead, and had a great deal of trouble to throw him overboard, being an enormously big man; this was the father of the poor lad who died the second. I was now all alone, and found myself getting very weak, and unable to hold the steer oar; this I fixed amidships, and allowed the boat to go

where the wind wished; I laid myself down in the bottom, with a mat laid on the thwarts as protection from the sun. I was ruminating one evening what my end would probably be, when I heard something leap by the side of the boat, and knew them to be fish, and found they were jumping at a little end of the mat sail trailing in the water; I immediately threw over three pearl hooks which I had brought from the Chain Islands, when they were caught at greedily by a fine albocoa, which I thankfully hauled on board, and caught a second and third in the same way; I eagerly drank their blood, and took out their eyes, which I ate, but the flesh I could not manage, as my throat seemed stuck together; I sliced them and laid them on the seat of the boat to dry; I sank down again in my usual place and fancied what Providence would send next, for something within now began to tell me that I was not to die, and what I wanted was something to allay my excessive thirst, under a sun in the tropics. It was now four days since my last native died, and brought me to the fortieth day, and on looking overboard I perceived, right ahead, land! Just imagine my surprise, running steadily along towards it. What land it was I could scarcely imagine, but supposed it must be the Navigators Islands. Towards mid day it fell calm, leaving me in the same uncertain state, and so continued for two days; but on the forty-second day, at break of day, I raised myself to look over the boat, and saw ten canoes pulling towards me, with five natives in each. I sank down in the bottom of the boat from excitement and exhaustion, thanking Providence for hope of deliverance. I now heard, from their conversation that they had approached pretty close, and, putting my head over the side of the boat, they raised one cry of horror and surprise at the wretched object I looked, and immediately pulled away, I beckoned them to approach, and intimated I wanted to drink by the usual sign, when they handed me a cocoa-nut, the only one they had. They now had more confidence, but still alarmed at my appearance, my beard being nearly seven weeks old, and the shadow of a man they saw. After some consultation, one of the chiefs, being heathen, proposed that I should be killed (this I understood, from the great similarity the language possesses to that of the Chain Islands), but the majority were Christians, and said, No; that it was contrary to their religion; they ought to be good Samaritans; this being the case, eight of them jumped into my boat with their paddles, and we went on shore." He was kindly treated by the natives, and on recovering, proposed to visit Tortirila, an island about seventy miles distant, to see if there was any opportunity of returning to Tahiti. Accordingly I left and took with me fourteen natives from Manua, and arrived at Tortirila the same evening; we found, that at the harbour of Apia, Island Upolu, another of the same group, was the harbour most frequented by shipping; but unfortunately we were detained from proceeding there, from westerly winds, for nearly three weeks. This island is about forty miles from Tortirila. On arriving at Apia, judge my surprise in finding a vessel, the Currency Lass, bound direct to Tahiti, to sail in two or three days. There being no mate on board, I was offered that situation, and eagerly accepted it; we took with us two passengers, the Messrs Evans, from Apia, and sailed from thence on the 30th of January 1845, and here again we did not escape privation from exceeding light and contrary winds; our provisions and water were soon expended, so that until we made the island of Attitui, we had then lived twelve days on yams alone; after a long passage of forty-three days to accomplish one thousand two hundred miles, we arrived at Tahiti, just twelve months from the day I left to superintend the shelling.' I found on my arrival that the oars and raft from which my boat had parted, were driven on shore on the south end of Tahiti (Tairaboo) and recognised by Mr Henry, who had, consequently, given us up for lost. My sorrow was soon turned into joy; on my arrival at Tahiti, I found a letter had long been lying there from England, and on opening it, I read that property to a considerable amount had been left me, and was ordered home to secure it."-Abridged from the Sydney Herald.

MARY MORISON.

AN ORIGINAL TALE.

"Now, William, before we part, take the other half of this bit of blue ribbon-blue, you know, is a colour that sailors like," said Mary Morison to her lover, as he was about to depart on his first voyage.

"They don't do that, Mary—for a blue stripe is what they put on a ship's side when a death takes place." Mary turned pale, but, resuming her lively tone, she added,

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"Oh, yes, I forgot that what I was thinking of was the old phrase, true blue, love true;" but it is all the same thing-a piece of thread would do just as well as a piece of ribbon-both are tokens, and nothing more. I shall wear my half, and be true to you as long as I wear it; and if you will do the same with your half, it will be all right in the end."

"That I'll be true to you, Mary, there can be no doubt; but it is more than likely that you will soon forget me. Your father is a rich shipowner, and many will be looking after your hand, or, at least, your money, while I, the friendless apprentice boy will be forgotten; and out of sight, I shall soon be out of mind."

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Nay, nay, William," said Mary; "that is doubting my word, which, I can assure you, you would not have received so frankly had you not been going to sea."

Aye, but your father," said the anxious lover; "how will he ever brook the idea of one of his own ship apprentices?"

"My father is not so unreasonable as you think him. Everybody must be apprentices first; you have been well educated; you are sure to rise, and to become a master; and then, if you are steady, you may get a share of some ship; and all that will raise you in the eyes of my father."

"It's all very well, Mary; but let a man do as he likes, it's interest now-a-days, and nothing else."

"Well, well; be but true to me, and do right, and I'll share your lot, should you be in the forecastle all your life."

"That's spoken like a brave girl. Now, good bye, dearest Mary; you'll be down at the quay with your father to see us sail."

"I am afraid I cannot do that, for some little thing might betray me, and he is so particular; but I shall be at the window all day, and, if I can get it done, I shall wave my handkerchief to bid you farewell."

"And I will answer you, by waving my hat from off the foremast cross-trees. Good bye; open the door; there is somebody in the garden-farewell, and God bless you, dear life."

The "somebody in the garden" proved a false alarm, and many and tender were the "more last words," and hot the tears that were shed ere the two lovers, in the deep and soul-stirring emotion of first and youthful affection, could tear themselves from each other. But we cannot chronicle sobs and sighs, and we have reported as much of their conversation as is necessary for the development of their after history.

Next day, at high water, the new brig Minerva was decorated with flags and streamers, preparatory to starting on her first voyage. A knot of loungers assembled to see her leave the harbour, and as her snow-white sails bended before the breeze, three hearty cheers were given and returned by the crew. A window near the beach was open, and a white handkerchief was cautiously waved near, but not outside, the casement-a figure responded on the cross-trees; and long after the little seaport town of had disappeared beneath the horizon, the figure hovered aloft; while the window continued unshut till the vessel first became a speck, and then was wholly lost on the deep.

Mr Morison, Mary's father, was a stern, imperious man, and ruled all about him with a firm unyielding hand. Mary was an only child, and her mother had for some time been dead. She had grown up under the care of a female servant, and was little noticed by her father; and, although now turned of seventeen, was regarded by

him as yet little more than a child. Her acquaintance with William Lithgow had commenced from his calling at her father's house with love messages from a brother sailor, who was enamoured of Mr Morison's servant. Preparatory to going to sea, William, who was about her own age, had been attending a navigation school, and had already adopted the white straw-hat, black ribbon, open dress, and otherwise picturesque costume of the tar. The known strictness of Mr Morison had prevented the sailor from pressing his suit with Nancy Thomson so eagerly as he, a son of Neptune about to start on a long voyage, could have wished; and he employed the ardent lad to scale garden-walls, tap at windows, creep through lobbies, and perform other feats requisite in cases where the course of love runs not smoothly. Lithgow adventured the office of go-between, from that love of enterprise in all things pertaining to gallantry that characterises passionate youth; but whilst ministering to the affections of others, his own heart became transfixed by the blue eyes and golden ringlets of Mary Morison. The austere character of her father had prevented Mary from associating much with the society of the town, and, except in church, she was little seen in public. Simple dress, retiring modesty, and girlish openness of character, are not the qualities which attract and dazzle; and whilst other young ladies of similar age and station were beginning to be toasted and gallanted by beaux, Mary Morison continued unnoticing and unnoticed. Many a lone flower, "wat wi' dew," turns its snowy bosom to the sun, and transmits its fragrance to all things around, while man knows it not; and, in like manner, was Mary ripening into beauty, without thought and without care, when Lithgow called with messages, written and verbal, for Nancy Thomson. Lithgow wrote for John Macdonald, and Mary wrote for Nancy, and in due time William and Mary came to be more anxious about their own matters than about those of John and Nancy, although nominally John and Nancy's affairs were made to appear the ostensible cause of every meeting that was held, and every letter that was written.

The Minerva had been away for several months, and the parties had been corresponding through the medium of letters addressed to a relative of Nancy's, for delivery of letters at Mr Morison's house was out of the question, when the attachment between the two was unexpectedly discovered. Lithgow's uncle was a pilot, and somewhat dissipated; and one day, when settling with Morison for piloting in one of his vessels, the charge was objected to. Old Lithgow replied, with drunken familiarity, that he should not be so hard, when they had the prospect of being relations. Morison naturally stared-the truth came out-and the money claimed was flung down with an imprecation that it was the last that should go the same way. From that hour Mary Morison knew not peace of mind.

She received a hurried message to go down stairs, and speak to her father in his office. On opening the door, she found him greatly excited. He seized the terrified girl by the arm, and, in a voice almost choked by passion, asked "If she had had any correspondence with a lad Lithgow, one of the apprentices of the Minerva?" In her turn she could not answer for very terror, and scarcely knowing what she did, she struggled to get out of the place.

"Answer me, girl. Have you had, or no? Don't think to humbug me with fainting fits. Say, in one word, if, unknown to me, you have dared to do such a thing?"

"Oh! father, have mercy on me."

"You have done it, then. You, a whining hypocritical wretch, under the mask of pretended simplicity, have dared to disgrace me by flirting with a beggarless boy. Hark ye, if I ever again hear of your writing or speaking of him, or any other body, without my permission, you shall leave this house penniless. Begone-and no snivelling. I know what that means with your accursed sex."

Mary tottered out, and crawled up stairs with difficulty. Her father had always been cold, but never before been rude and unkind. William was duly informed of

the altered state of matters; but Mary anew pledged her constancy, although how to redeem it she knew not. Soon after Nancy Thomson was dismissed, and an aged domestic introduced into the family, who watched her young mistress with a lynx eye. Morison got more gloomy and sullen, and the wretched girl, cut off from all sympathy, felt heavily the pressure of her accumulated distress.

Five years rolled on, and by stealthy messages, conveyed through John Macdonald and Nancy Thomson, the devoted pair contrived to keep up an irregular correspondence the Minerva in the mean time being daily expected to return from the East Indies, in which, and in the adjacent regions, she had been trading since she first sailed from But, at the time the news of her expected arrival transpired, a stranger came to the secluded dwelling of Mr Morison. This was a young man, named Charles Wight, the son of his American | correspondent, who had travelled to Britain on some mercantile business. Mr Wight had not been long an inmate in the house until his attentions to Mary became marked and pointed, and he prolonged his stay beyond the limits he had originally stipulated, for no other reason that she could divine, except the prosecution of his suit. Narrowly watched by her father, Mary had to observe the utmost circumspection, and to yield compliance in many instances where daughters differently situated || would have administered rebuffs. At length the young man formally intimated his views to the father, who at once signified his approbation, and, for reasons which may readily be guessed, expressed a strong wish that no delay should take place in the matter. He did not deem it necessary to speak to Mary on the subject himself, but significantly desired Wight to tell him if she offered any objection. Leaving the father, Wight went in quest of Mary, and frankly told her what had happened. "Oh, sir!" said the alarmed girl, "had you only spoken to me first!"

Nay, in that, ma'am, I think I should have been doing wrong. The love I offer is honourable, and honourable love neither seeks nor accepts of concealment. I cannot reconcile my mind to the asking of any lady's hand without first obtaining the sanction of those whom nature and religion have made her guardians."

“And, having obtained that consent," rejoined Mary, "do you deem anything else necessary?"

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self."

Undoubtedly, ma'am,-the consent of the lady her

"Then, sir, if you will generously hold to that noble resolution, our interview on this matter need be but a short one."

"How mean you?" said Wight.

'My heart, sir, is, and has long been another's; and much have I suffered for giving what I could not withhold. And oh! sir, press not the advantage you have gained over a poor crushed creature, who, except from one, has scarcely known what human kindness is. Force may extort my hand, but it cannot win my heart. And I am sure you are too good, too manly, to urge a suit which must be death to me, misery to him, and dishonour to you. Oh! do not hesitate. Obey the impulses of a nature which I am sure is noble, and say that you will not insist on this. Do answer me. But, alas! what do I ask?-for, turn where I will, nothing but tears and sorrow can be my lot. Even your consent to withdraw your claims will only incense my father more and more; and He who knows all things knows how wretched he has made me already. From man I shall not now look for help; but surely there will be help in heaven for one so sorely wedded to misery."

"I shall endeavour to deserve your love, Miss Morison."

"In pity spare me farther importunity I cannot argue with you. I have thrown myself on your sympathy, and can do no more."

"Was this attachment of yours not a childish affair? one not binding when the age and situation of the parties are taken into account?"

"It was an engagement formed from my inmost soul, and despair has made me cling to it more than ever.”

'

"My dear sir,-Had you not obligingly kept out of the way this evening, I should have told you verbally that a letter, which I received by the afternoon mail, obliges me to leave post-haste for Liverpool. I shall write or see you soon about Miss M-, to whom please be kind for my sake.-Yours ever truly, C. B. WIGHT,

Old Morison misunderstood the tenor of this note, for he supposed it to mean that Mary had given her new suitor some encouragement, and, under this impression, he sarcastically complimented her on her having at last forgotten Lithgow. Mary imagining that he was to resume his interference on behalf of Wight, although not well knowing the import of his sneer, implored him not

A cry

A fearful hurricane of wind blew in the evening. The Minerva hove in sight, and was trying to make the harbour. Morison rushed down to await her coming, and, while standing on the edge of the quay, a gust of wind blew him into the angry waters. His grey hairs were seen for a moment waving on the top of a gigantic billow, and the next instant it carried him back in its reflux, and he was seen no more. of horror burst from the spectators; but no human help could avail. No boat was at hand; and, had there been, she would have been swallowed up by the boiling waves, which were lashing the shore with terrific fury. The Minerva hovered in the distance, and was seen through the spray dancing on the white-crested waters like a feathered toy. Anon, the whole heavens grew black, and the storm grew wilder and wilder, so that to enter the harbour now became utterly impossible. By a daring act of seamanship, the vessel was tacked and stood out to the sea, and then a gleam of hope, though but faint and anxious, sprung up in the bosoms of the awe-stricken on-lookers. To have tried the harbour would have been certain destruction to the vessel, and probably to all on board. To go out to sea in such a tempest was also a fearful alternative; and many a sleepless eye was in on that dismal night.

Mr Morison's corpse did not drift on shore. Certain money-bills fell due a few days after his melancholy end, and in the absence of the legal gentleman whom, when alive, he consulted in law matters, his creditors voluntarily met; and from what they could gather from his papers, they pronounced his affairs to be in an exceedingly backward state. Mary was the only surviving relative that was known of; and, disgusted with the bustle made in the house by searching for accounts and ship-books, she told the creditors that she would give up everything to them, and support herself with her own hands. She accordingly left a home saddened by so many dreary recollections, and took up her abode in the humble hut of Nancy Thomson's mother, the only asylum that was voluntarily offered to her-the heiress of yesterday.

A fortnight passed away, and with the lapse of the two weeks all vestiges of the storm had disappeared. The woods again heard the voice of spring, the birds chirped. and the treacherous sea was lulled into the peaceful repose of a summer lake, its blue waters breaking so gently on the white pebbles of the beach, as if on purpose to

wash the feet of a child. But still the Minerva returned not; and, in the interval, Mary had well nigh sunk under the burden of her woes. The death of her father, and the peril of her lover, bowed her to the ground; and for a time she sorrowed as though she had no hope. The delicate care of the poor widow at length roused her into a consciousness of her forlorn situation. She saw that she could not be a burden on one who, like the widow of old, had but one cruise of oil and a handful of meal; and she resolved at once to support herself by her needle. On making this resolution known, she was invited into the house of a Mr Smith, who, along with her father, had been half owner of the Minerva, and one of whose three daughters being about to be married, Mary's services were required to assist in the wedding preparations. When one has a bursting heart, it is hard to have to do with merry-making, and the Smiths being fashionable unfeeling people, little more than formal sympathy was shown to poor Mary; but she resolutely set her face to the blast, and put her trust in Heaven.

On the second night of her residence with the Smiths, a gun was fired about ten o'clock by a ship in the bay; and, eager about the fate of the Minerva, old Lithgow, William's uncle, stepped into his boat, and pulled out in the direction of the report. It was the Minerva. Shattered she, indeed, was, and death had visited her, but she was safe, at last, and William amongst the survivors.

"Where's the captain and the mate?" said the pilot to his nephew, after the first congratulations were over. "Oh! the captain was washed overboard, and the mate got drunk, and was for staving in the store-room and making all the crew in the same state, that they might meet death like men, as he called it. I was determined not to stand this, so I got him bound hand and foot, and took the command myself; and, although I say it, I have been the means of saving the ship."

"You're a spunky chap, Bill."

"Aye; think of me being skipper, uncle, and only a month out of my 'prenticeship. If old Morison is worth a rope's end, he'll not only make me captain, but let me marry Mary besides."

"Avast heaving so quick, Bill," said the cautious

uncle.

"What for? Jim Backwell was skipper when he was twenty-one, and I am twenty-three."

"Aye, aye, lad; thou mayst be as old as Flamboro' Head, but Morison is gone to Davy's locker, where he ought to have been long ago; and his daughter is a whitefaced thing, not worth the having."

"What do you mean, uncle? Tell me all about it, for anysake."

"Morison was driven off the pier that day you tried to make the harbour, and was drowned; and, for all his pride to the poor man, he has not left so much as will pay his debts. Mary has taken to the dress-making, but she blubbers and cries so much that she'll make nothing of it. My wife employed her to make a gown, and when asked the price, she said anything she liked. Just a genteel way of swindling."

"Poor Mary!" sighed William. "Poor mopstick!" I used to touch my south-wester to her, but she would hardly deign to notice me." "Oh! don't speak that way, uncle. She would be

afraid of her father."

"Well, well, afraid of this or afraid of that, Smith is the other half-owner of your brig-one of his daughters is going to be married: I daresay you could have the second one, and the skippership also, and then you could give me a berth, for I am tired of the piloting, and would like to go to sea again."

"What nonsense you do speak," was all the reply made by William.

Early next morning young Lithgow went on shore, and on learning where Mary was, he hurried to the Smiths. The whole town rang with the bravery of the young sailor, and the Misses Smiths chimed in with the general acclamations; but poor Mary was so agitated with conflicting emotions, that she fell into a sort of stupor, and became scarcely conscious of what was going on around her. William passed the window, the bell

rang, Ann Smith rushed to the street door, Sally and Jane rose from their seats, but Mary sat motionless. "Now for a love scene," said the thoughtless Ann, as she pushed William into the apartment.

Mary Morison was an altered woman-five years had converted William Lithgow into a handsome muscular young man; it had reduced her to a pale, sickly emaciated female-lovely, indeed, in her pensiveness, but bereft of the freshness of dewy health and happiness. No hysterics marked tumultuous sorrow in her: she calmly clasped his extended hand, and for an instant dropped her head on his shoulder. William blushed, while the young ladies tittered, and the entrance of Mr Smith put an end to sentimentalism, by turning the conversation into business matters. Pleading indisposition, Mary left the room, and soon after the house, leaving word that she had gone to Widow Thomson's.

The evening found her sitting at a little cheerful fire, awaiting the arrival of William. Ten o'clock came, and no word of him. She opened the shutters and raised the window, and, by the light of the moon, saw along the beach for nearly a mile, but no form was there. She walked out, and paced up and down by the water sidethe sea was at full tide-eleven, twelve, one, two, and three o'clock found the wretched girl still hopelessly pacing to and fro; and the sea, which had been at her feet, was now far down upon the strand. She re-entered the hut, and, sitting down by the now empty grate, covered her face with her hands, and rose not till returning day-light roused her humble protector, the widow. In the morning Mary knew not what to do-vague suspicions of William's unfaithfulness crossed her mind, and in vain she tried to dismiss them. To return to the Smiths was not likely to assuage her grief; and yet not to go back was to shrink from the path of duty which she had laid down for herself, which was to deem nothing too humbling that gained her honest support. She, therefore, resolved to go back, and went with a heavy heart and aching head.

"Oh, Mary," said Ann Smith; "why could you go away yesterday? Papa asked Lithgow to his supper, and we had such a night of fun. Sally's intended was here, too, and my brother John came from A-, and we were so happy. I don't think, Jane, that they were away when it was one o'clock in the morning."

"Are you sure it was not later?" asked Mary thoughtfully.

"No; for I recollect the clock struck as they passed through the lobby; and we did not want to detain him, as he had to sleep on board."

William called not the whole of that day; and Mary, pleading increased sickness, asked and obtained release from farther attendance at the Smith's. Day after day passed on, and no message came from him; and too proud to inquire after him, the poor girl pined away in sadness.

William had asked the command of the Minerva from Mr Smith, who had evaded the application on the score of youth and inexperience. His friends told him to enlist the influence of the daughters on his side, as they were known to have great power with the father. He did so on the very evening of the supper party; and Ann Smith, a bold forward girl, who had in vain ogled all the young men in town, hinted plainly, that devotion to her was the avenue to success. The night-dreams which the young sailor had formed of Mary's womanly beauty had vanished; and ambitiously full of having command of a ship at the close of his apprenticeship-an elevation great to him as a marshal's baton to a young officer-he quaffed the generous wine of old Smith, and fired his brain with determinations of speedy and certain achievement at whatever cost. An interview with Mary that night, and well he knew where she was, and that she would be waiting him, would have unmanned him, and he therefore shrunk from it, and hurried to the boat-on to the vessel, and braced his mean resolution with a deep draught of brandy, which speedily drowned reflection in heavy sleep.

The result may be guessed. Selfishness prevailed; and so hurriedly were matters driven forward, that the