turned away quickly and listened to Miss Northumberland. Mr. Byles was haranguing on his one theme with its variations.

Now, my wife, Mr. Tyrel, will do what her sex can in promoting this enterprise. I propose that she shall illustrate certain functions of womankind."

"And very gracefully she will do it," said Tyrel, looking at the simpering wife.

"Well, sir, it is not so much grace that will be required," rejoined Mr. Byles. "She will perform the various domestic labors which fall to woman's share, and display, in this particular, man as a worker, or, as I sometimes call him, man as a bee."

"Pray, Mr. Byles," said Tyrel, "why not make a collection of women by themselves, and illustrate woman, all the way up from the Hottentot to the graceful American, say? That would draw a good crowd." He arched his brow for a private signal to me. Mr. Byles, who only caught at one seeming sneer, and lost the whole, looked a little angry, and said:

"Mr. Tyrel, I think I told you, sir, that I am not a worker in the confined sense of the word. My business has to do with thought, and I shall take my place among the philosophers, as I explained."

"Please to accept my humble services as chamberlain," said Tyrel, deferentially; "and Mr. Penhallow here would, I am sure, make an admirable representative of man as an intimate friend."

"My plan does not propose to classify the virtues," said Mr. Byles, looking suspiciously at me, as if I had been guilty of chaffing him.

"Then leave out the lawyer," said I, turning about and joining the other group, looking, I know, very red. Miss Bodley saw there was something disagreeable going on, and, turning to her father, asked if they should wait for M. Bodelet.

"I hardly like to wait," he said, to us three. "But there is one guest yet to arrive, and I am afraid he might be somewhat hurt if he were to find us at dinner; and yet you are quite sure, Fear, that he will come?"

"He certainly was very positive, yesterday," said she.

The matter was set at rest by the appearance now of the last of the guests, M. Felix Bodelet, who came in upon our little room full of company, to the eye much as if a Huguenot had stepped bodily from a picture-frame, to my thinking indeed, or rather to my instinct, with the old ducal power which constantly reasserts itself in politics and society; that is to say, I saw before me a man, quiet and determined, born to rule whatever principality might rightly fall to his share. He became at once the centre of the circle. It was for him that we had waited, without knowing it, and now that he had come we were ready. For my part I felt at once a sense of relief. There had been an undefined and uncomfortable feeling lest in this discordant gathering it might fall to my lot to act as master in charge, but now I recognized at a glance my leader, and knew that he would prove equal to the emer gency.

"Certainly, Captain Belknap, certainly. It is our Danish custom after dinner, and not a bad one; we shake hands, and invoke good wishes on our guests. It may make up for the poorness of our cooks, the deficiency of our entourage. It at least is better than the old Italian custom of poisoning people."

"Decidedly! Then, counselor, I may rely on your help; may trust that you will act for me, and with me, in this matter which has brought me to St. Thomas?"

"Yes, Captain Belknap, you have my word to that effect.-Good-night."

And the young naval officer walked away into the stillness of the tropical night toward the famous French Hotel, which then accommodated the heterogeneous visitors to the little town of Charlotte Amalie, which crowned the conical hill of St. Thomas, Danish West Indies.

Captain Belknap, in his interview with Counselor Federstahl, had put him in possession of some facts which it was difficult for the young man to narrate, but which he was obliged, by the counselor's demand, to give him.

"You must remember, my dear young friend," said the sagacious lawyer, "that there must be perfect confidence between client and counselor. You must tell me your motives, even, or I cannot attempt to help you in this complicated affair."

Well, then, my dear sir, since you say so, I will tell you all," said Belknap.

"There came under my mother's care some years ago, in a mysterious manner, a young girl, a very young girl, who we have reason to suppose has relatives and property in these islands. There was a cloud hanging over her mother, and the records are very much disturbed by the fact that just before her death she (the mother) burned a quantity of papers. Only a few letters remain: one pointing to certain people in Cuba as possessing facts of considerable importance; another recalling the name and relationship borne by her to Captain Charles Walsingham.

"This young lady, whose name, to save further complications, is Julia Sinclair, has become to my mother as a daughter; nay, more, she would have her a real daughter, and make her my wife. I have received her promise to become so if I can find out her real history, reestablish her mother's reputa

tion, and gain her her place in society. This I have undertaken, and, as you say I must tell you all, even my motives, I will add that I do it with the more zest because I am afraid I do not love Miss Sinclair as I ought to love my wife. If I can serve her, perhaps I shall love her better. If I gain for her a name, a fortune, and a lineage, I may then honorably retire from a connection which has been brought about by circumstance rather than by choice; by filial duty rather than by the instincts of the heart."

"Does the young lady love you?" said Counselor Federstahl.

"I am afraid she does," said the poor captain, blushing beneath his bronze.

"A complicated case-truly a complicated case," said the lawyer.

The counselor's house was situated high, and commanded a splendid view. Seldom, in all his wandering life, had the young sailor seen any thing so superb as this unlimited reach of ocean, this calm, splendid, brilliantly-illuminated heaven. Each star seemed to be detached from the sky, and to hang down by an invisible thread. Each planet glowed with pale, intense fire; and, although there was no moon, the earth was filled with their radiance. He walked sturdily down the steep descent, casting one glance at his ship, the Calypso, as she lay grandly at rest in the beautiful harbor. All was well with her. Discipline reigned on that fine vessel. Was it as well with him? Could he pipe all hands to their duty in his own nature? Could he rule Captain Belknap as he did his crew? He looked up at the sky, and saw Venus-loveliest planet of them all--and a smile crept over his face.

"All very well but for you, my lady," said he, addressing himself to the serene goddess.

When he reached the hotel he crept up to his room, rather than join the group of travelers on the piazza; but he noticed, as he passed them, the figure of a monk, in the dress of his order-some South American brother, no doubt, on his way to Europe. He had a brown robe with the conventional cowl, and a rope tied round his waist-the very lowest and humblest dress, yet there was something so pronounced about his head and face that the young man turned again to look at him; as he did so, he saw that the monk was looking at him-earnestly and curiously.

However, he went to his apartment, and was soon sleeping the sound, healthy sleep of early manhood. Toward morning he began to dream of the monk in the brown robe, finally getting into so much trouble with him that he awoke, saying rather impatiently to himself:

"I would rather dream of the 'Nun with the Brown Rosary.'

Just then the slightest, most delicate tap was heard at his door. Thinking it was the colored servant with a jug of water, or his early coffee and roll, he called out loudly, "Come in!"-when there entered the monk.

"A thousand pardons, Captain Belknap," said the holy brother, with the ease and elegance of a man of the world-"ten thousand pardons for disturbing you so early, but I

have a letter for you, from your Secretary of State, introducing my humble self, through the Lord Bishop of Baltimore. I must ask of you to read it, and to give me your answer, as I am now called away to confess a dying person. Nothing else would have persuaded me to so early a call."

Captain Belknap sat up in bed, pulled his mosquito-net aside, and took the letter. It was indeed from Washington, and official. It requested (in terms which were politely a command) that he should take Father Ambrosius, of the Carmelite Monastery at Lima, on board his vessel as a guest, for his West Indian and South American cruise.

So he was to have this infernal monk, of whom he had been dreaming, as a daily companion, was he? Captain Belknap felt blasphemous.

However, he was a gentleman, and he swallowed his wrath, and spoke gently:

"I must be here a week or ten days; then we shall start, and I shall be most happy to receive your reverence on board."

Father Ambrosius smiled, bowed, and raised his three fingers to give the captain his blessing. The captain bowed from behind the mosquito-net, and with satisfaction saw him shut the door. He might have spared me the blessing," said he. "I liked Counselor Federstahl's better-what was that word? Wellbeknown, Welcome-you- Welbekomer—now, I have it! Well, I don't say Welbekomer to Father Ambrosius, any way."

After Captain Belknap had breakfasted, and had visited his ship, he received a visit from Counselor Federstahl, who promised him a ride on the little Spanish jennets, for which St. Thomas was famous. No carriage can obtain on that sugar-loaf, but these dear little pacing ponies give the Thomasians an afternoon ride. The captain had a sailor's inaptitude for horseback, but owned that the Spanish jennet was nearest to being a rocking-chair of any thing he had ever tried.

When Counselor Federstahl had shown him the splendid view, when they had talked out Sir Francis Drake and Captain Kidd, the Danish lawyer took up the subject of Captain Belknap's business.

"So the lady's father was a naval officer, and was here in 1814," said he; "well, that is a long time ago. We are now in the year 1850. The only person in the islands who will be apt to remember him is a Mrs. Castleton, whom we shall see at Santa Cruz. Fortunately, I have an invitation to dine with her on Christmas-day, and to bring two friends; one of them shall be yourself. Have you any intimate friend on your ship who shall be the other?"

Captain Belknap, not yet accustomed to insular hospitality, was for refusing this superb offer, but finding the counselor to insist, he said:

"If I might be so bold, I would like to bring my first officer, Horace Heywood-a very handsome fellow. If there are ladies, Horace will make himself agreeable at once. As for me, I am not much of a lady's man," and the honest brown face was covered with blushes.

The kindly, pale, elderly man looked round with a smile. He evidently thought

Captain Belknap was not wanting in personal attraction. The bronzed, manly face was not handsome, but it was better, it was strong, concentrated, and honest. The compact figure was symmetrical and straight, and the height, six feet and an inch, gave it majesty.

Christmas-day is the day after to-morrow," said the counselor. "If you and your friend will be here at the hotel to-morrow, we will go over early in the morning on a little schooner, so that we can attend the service in the morning of Christmas-day, pay a visit to the governor and some dignitaries, take our drive, and make our toilets for a seven-o'clock dinner."

When the counselor saw the captain and his friend, he did not wonder that Belknap had mentioned the beauty of his first-officer. Heywood was one of those rare and unusual masculine beauties who have appeared now and then upon the earth-once under the name of Byron, once under the name of Cæsar Borgia, farther back under the name of Alcibiades, farther still under that of Absalom, and so on up and down the stream of time-men who were not only handsome but beautiful. He was dark, of the Byronic type, with most lustrous eyes, clear and perfect complexion, most radiant smile, most regular features. As he stepped forward to clasp the hand of Counselor Federstahl, such was his grace, cordiality, and beaming beauty, that the Danish lawyer almost uttered an exclamation. He had the added charm of unconsciousness. Horace had been so long accustomed to his own beauty that he was not troubled by it. Nature had done every thing for this creature, in a fit of madness. She had chiseled his features, toned his coloring, and perfected his voice, which was sweeter than harp or dulcimer.

"This fellow is handsome-Belknap was right! The Santa Cruz ladies will admire him," thought Counselor Federstahl.

When the three gentlemen entered the long, low drawing-room of Mrs. Castleton on the Christmas-evening, they made a decided sensation. Two American officers in full uniform were a rarity on the island, and Counselor Federstall was a very distinguished person.

Mrs. Castleton, an elderly widow in cap and crape, received them with the sweetest dignity. She was a lady of high degree, and her manners had the majesty of a bygone day. She presented them to her son and her guests, then to her daughter Miss May Castleton, finally to Miss Lingenbrod, Miss Stridiron, Miss Feddersen-Danish beauties. But it was on the fair face of May Castleton that Belknap's eyes rested. Here was a gentle, blue-eyed blonde of the most perfect type.

The dinner was a large one and most excellent. Illuminated by innumerable waxcandles, in long glass globes which defended the flickering light from draughts and from insects; the table loaded with flowers and fruit, with heavy, old-fashioned silver-plate and china, which had been curious and valuable a hundred years ago; and, what was of more importance to the gentlemen, rare and excellent wines-Madeira, which had traveled far; Tinto, which had ripened surely; claret, as good as when it left France; and

Burgundy, a trifle better-such was Mrs. Castleton's dinner.

Horace was happy with a Danish beauty on either side, nor was he ignorant of the fact that May Castleton's eyes were seeking him out, although she had been taken in to dinner by Belknap.

"How do you amuse yourself here?" said the captain to his fair companion.

"Oh, we rise early, go to ride on horseback, come back to an eleven-o'clock breakfast, then take a siesta, or read, or do our em broidery. Then we lunch at two, take another siesta, drive at four to get the ocean-breeze, and dine at seven. A lazy, uninteresting, sleepy life, Captain Belknap."

"Ah!" said Miss Lingenbrod. "May has just come home from boarding-school in Eu rope; she has all her original energy hang. ing about her yet. When she has been home as long as we have, she will become contented as we are. This climate saps the ambition in a year or two."

The young officers, who were simply melting in their formal uniforms and high, embroidered coat-collars, thought as much-the thermometer (although it was Christmas and nine o'clock in the evening) was up among the nineties.

The hour of toasts arrived, and the com pany drank" To the roof!" "To our absent friends; God bless them!"-a toast always drunk with much emotion in these islands'Good health and good wealth!" "His majesty the king!" "Our friendly allies-Eng land and America" (rather patronizing!); then, rising, each shook hands with the other, and said, "Welbekomer!" when the ladies retired.

The gentlemen over their cigars, rum-andwater, brandy, and cordials, heard the sound of music from the parlor, and the younger men sighed to get to the performance and the performers. The Danish ladies all play beautifully on the piano, most of the men touch the piano with grace and skill, so that music is a very great resource in these remote communities.

The host finally giving the word to move, Captain Belknap and Lieutenant Heywood found themselves entering the parlor as Miss Lingenbrod was finishing a superb sonata, and then May Castleton took her place by her side to sing.

It was a contralto voice, exceedingly rich and powerful, of limited compass, but very thrilling. She sang some English and Scotch ballads, going from one to the other, winding up with "Lochaber no more"-that most heart-breaking melody which made the Scot tish soldiers in India die of homesickness.

She was singing to a roomful of differ ent nationalities-Danes, Americans, English, and Scotch and she sang to everybody's heart. They all entreated for their own national air. She refused everybody's request but Captain Belknap's when he asked her to sing "The Star-spangled Banner." She looked at her mother, who nodded assent; and she sang it, looking full at the captain with eyes as blue as the "azure robé of night," in which Drake's poetry has set the stars of glory forever.

This completed the gallant sailor's con

quest. Female beauty was his Capua, and he felt with a pang that he was being disloyal to another to whom his fealty was due.

Before parting for the night, the young ladies invited the officers to join their ridingparty at six o'clock the next morning.

"We will take you up to see our astronomer, an accomplished old Scotch gentleman," said May Castleton, one who lives with Orion and the Pleiades, and who has had to mount all his telescopes on fragments of iron implements, like old ploughs and broken bits of sugar-boilers, because the ants have eaten up the wood which sustained them."

"The ants eaten up the wood?" said Heywood, incredulously.

"Oh, yes!" said Mrs. Castleton. "I can show you pieces of furniture which have been hollowed out by them, and frequently we see a colony of them appear, deliberately strip off their wings, and then disappear into the wooden paneling, or the sturdy leg of a mahogany table. Oh! we are living on the outside of things down here, I assure you."

The next morning, happily released from their uniforms, by the command of the ladies, the young officers joined them at Mrs. Castleton's.

The fair equestriennes in white habits, or cool, gray linen, as befitted the climate, were mounted on the pretty Spanish jennets. Mr. Castleton and two or three Danish officers were already in attendance. stood ready for the sailors.

Two horses

May Castleton's bloom bore the early morning light better than the creamy complexion of the Danes. Miss Lingenbrod had fine black eyes to help her along, but the others had the pale-blue orbs of their race. Horace Heywood looked as he always did, as if he had been especially prinked by Apollo and Venus for the destruction of Hebe and the minor goddesses; and Captain Belknap looked tall and brown and strong-if anybody looked at him.

The morning was glorious, as tropical mornings always are, and the little cavalcade began a fast movement along a palm avenue, and then more slowly ascended the hill which led to Sir Matthew Macdonald's.

They found the old Scotch laird at his observations already, noting barometers, thermometers, and observing Nature accurately.

When the young American officers were presented to him he showed great interest, asked the name of their ship, and, turning to a big, musty folio, recorded all the facts they told him about the Calypso, her guns, her tonnage, etc. "This I have done for fifty years," said the patient old man; "my interest in this world is bounded by what comes into these seas, which lie under my eyes, Nature, which lies all about me, and the heavens above me; I care not for society, for politics, for the performance of men on the theatre of the world. So long as men see fit to come here to me, I am interested in them, but no further. It may be a selfish existence, but it is a happy one, and hurts no one."

Captain Belknap asked permission to examine this curious old volume.

"then that covers the year 1814; may I look back so far?"

"Certainly, certainly. I will find it for you;" and the old man, delighted to find some one interested in his hobbies, turned the yellow leaves for him.

There, amid many entries of all nations, for it was a busy year, Captain Belknap read: "Ship Miranda, Captain Charles Walsingham, arrived at St. Thomas, June 12, 1814." Other particulars followed, and Captain Belknap thus accidentally seized one of the threads which he wanted, for Sir Matthew Macdonald's knowledge did not stop here; he knew much more of the strange story which Belknap was to unravel, and became an important *though an unwilling actor, through this case, in that troubled world from which he had so long persistently escaped. Circumstance is too strong for us always.

May Castleton gave the order to return, and, after taking coffee with Lady Macdonald, they left the ruined, forlorn old residence, where not only the ants, but other purloiners of freshness and comfort, had been at work for long years. There are many such houses in the West Indies, monuments of past prosperity, where poverty is bravely, silently borne. It would be well were they all illuminated by learning and refinement, as was this one. Riding home she selected Belknap for her cavalier, much to his delight.

"Old Sir Matthew is a great favorite of mamma's," said she; "they have been friends for so many years. We tell them that they have some dramatic secrets, for they are always whispering. You see, I am the youngest of a very large family; my brother, you observe, is almost old enough to be my father, and I am left out of the family councils: they treat me like a baby, which I am not!"

Certainly, if she was, she was very well grown, robust, and beautiful, the captain thought.

Mrs. Castleton awaited them with a déjeuner à la fourchette, for which they were quite ready. It was served in a shaded veranda which looked into the garden. Any inclosed spot is a garden in these fortunate islands, but Mrs. Castleton, always rich, always tasteful, an old resident, had the most beautiful garden on the island: long avenues, shaded thickly by the polished-leaved orangetrees, the fragrant olive, and the innumerable blossoming trees of the island, radiated fanshaped from the house; along one alley, scarlet blossoms lighted up the green; in another, yellow tassels hung gracefully; in another, pink; in another, white flowers shone against the leaves like stars. The banana, the pineapple, the guava, and the orange, were planted at intervals, while on the porch hung the heavy blossoms of the passion-flower, which bears the curious, pear-shaped fruit they call the "pawpaw."

After breakfast, Mrs. Castleton had arranged a surprise for her guests. The negroes from the plantations always come in during Christmas-week to dance and sing for their masters, who live in the town. So, as the last course was disappearing, a wild, monotonous drumming was heard, and, looking into the garden, the young men saw the ne

and dancing, while two in front were playing with their thumbs on an improvised drum, a skin stretched over a barrel-hoop.

It was a melancholy, minor strain - all enslaved and sad people pitch their music on a minor chord; and as they danced and sang, unhappy Africa with her burdens came before the listener. Soon the barbaric got the better of them; they wildly threw their arms in the air, seized each other by the waist, danced as if the tarantula had bitten them; then they sobered down, advanced in slow movements, not without majesty, toward the house, made deep courtesies and obeisance, and sang some rude rhymes to their monotonous chant, blessing their mistress, the roof, the family, and gave an especial blessing for our youngest child-darling Miss May."

May went out to throw them some money and to speak to the older ones. A fine, athletic negro stepped forward and addressed her; he had the brand of the slave-ship on his brow; his hair was white; he might have sat to Tintoretto as a model for the slave in the "Miracle of St. Mark."

"Manuel, an African prince," said Mr. Castleton. "Once very troublesome, supposed to have committed a murder, but now one of our best hands. When emancipation came about, he refused to leave us, and be has the care of our best sugar-plantation."

As May bent over from the veranda to put a present in his hand, the negro took hers and pressed it to his forehead. Her old nurse and several of the other negroes came forward and performed the same Oriental homage. Mrs. Castleton and her son came in also for some respectful ceremonies; then the dusky serenaders disappeared down the alleys, and this closed a characteristic West Indian scene.

"Manuel is unhappy about his son," said May. "He wants to go to Cuba very much to see him. The poor boy is in some trouble there."

"The revolutionary spirit of the family broken out, I suppose," said Mr. Castleton.

The time came for Captain Belknap and his ship to depart from the hospitable dinners and the beautiful drives under the palms of Santa Cruz. As a slight return for Mrs. Castleton's many hospitalities, he offered to take Manuel to Cuba-an offer gratefully accepted. They were of the kind-hearted class of masters, and, although virtual emancipation had then taken place on the Danish islands, it had not freed the negro and master from those ties of almost paternal interest which had held them together. Captain Belknap took Manuel for his own body-servant, and promised him as such protection and help in that cruel island of Cuba where the black man has no rights.

Horace Heywood had made the best use of his eyes and opportunities, and, when he left the island, the Danish beauties suffered inexpressible heart-breaks. Poor Belknap could not tell whether May Castleton's blush was for him or for his first-officer, as together they bade her good-by.

"I feel like Ulysses when he said, 'My dear comrades called on me by name, and

hearted Horace, as he paced the deck of the Calypso with Belknap, as they gallantly steamed out of the harbor of St. Thomas, on their way through the Caribbean Sea toward

Cuba.

our holy mother Church, by the appropriation of large sums of money."

The revelations which followed were of the utmost importance to Captain Belknap. They supplied many a missing link, and

Calypso was not a woman, she was a goddess," said a soft voice near them.

Both young men started, and observed Father Ambrosius, who had joined them at St. Thomas, and who was now walking gently by their side.

Father Ambrosius, like most of his order, was an accomplished scholar, a man of the world, a person of infinite tact, and sure to make himself agreeable if he chose to do so. He had joined the two young men, and had broken in upon a tête-à-tête, two things unendurable to men generally, but he had struck❘ the key-note of their talk and their thought. He proceeded with his walk and talk in such an unpriestly and in so agreeable a manner, that they were both won, in spite of themselves. Not that Father Ambrosius ever descended into light conversation that unbecame his character as a consecrated and an elderly man, but he knew the classics, he knew human nature, he had taste and intelligence, he talked of those passions which agitate the world, not wholly to condemn them, but to sympathize with those who struggled. He was, also, a capital judge of wines, and a gourmand when not fasting.

On his fast-days, a salad sufficed for his dinner, but his talk was as wise and witty as ever. He soon overcame all Belknap's prejudice.

The frank, warm-hearted sailor was ashamed of the presentiment which had assailed him when he first saw the holy broth

er.

One moonlit night, as they sailed on the smooth Caribbean Sea, and watched for the Southern Cross, then dimly visible, Father Ambrosius opened to Captain Belknap the most interesting and valuable discovery.

"You will forgive me," said he, in his soft, low tones, "if I have concealed from you that I know your business in these islands, and that I have some important information for you. I did not connect you with this story until a conversation with Counselor Federstaḥl accidentally revealed it to me, but I can and will try to recompense you for your politeness in taking me from St. Thomas to Cuba on your ship by putting in your hands the confession of Julia Sinclair's mother, which was given to us with her permission to use it, at our discretion, for the advantage of her daughter when the proper time should come. You will find it here, with the indorsement of the Lord Bishop of Baltimore. You know that Mrs. Sinclair died a dutiful daughter of our Church, and I have but been waiting to get this clew to her. One single obligation remains on your side before giving this up. I must receive from you the name of the Spanish resident in Cuba to whom you are now going, as a proof demanded by these documents, that you know Julia Sinclair's history up to a certain point, and that you will help me also to discover a certain person involved in the net, who has not only wronged Miss Sinclair, but

about the legality of the marriage of Julia Sinclair's mother.

"And the name of your Cuban?" said Father Ambrosius.

"Don Pedro de Santillo," said Belknap. A gleam of satisfaction passed over the dark face of the monk, which suddenly recalled to Belknap the feeling of suspicion with which he had regarded him at first. Discretion, that better part of valor, was not a part of the brave sailor's character. It suddenly occurred to him that he had done an indiscreet thing, but the reflection came after the deed. However, the monk had certainly given him a quid pro quo, and by his graceful and ingenuous talk soon quieted the captain's fears.

As for Horace Heywood, he gave himself up to "soft air tints and delightful dreams." He recalled, as he walked the deck, the black eyes of Miss Lingen brod, and, as he took the morning watch, he saw in the sky the blue eyes of May Castleton. No place is so perfectly fitted for the lover's dream as the deck of a ship. The silent stars are good confidants; they never tell. And those tropical seas and lustrous stars, those tradewinds, on whose soft wings fly delicate thoughts and gentle fancies, are all conducive to tender dreams. Father Ambrosius, sufficiently human to be touched by the beauty of the young officer, came and talked with him, as he walked, of Provençal poetry, of Clémence Isaure and her violet, of old Spanish romance, of French sentiment. The rusty old monk had all Petrarch's sonnets on his tongue's end, and quoted them beautifully for the benefit of Horace.

When the Calypso had arrived at Havana, and had properly saluted, and received from the great Morro Castle her quota of guns, Captain Belknap and his first-officer made the formal call on the governor-general, attended by an appropriate suite, and by Manuel, who was carefully dressed in the navy blue of the ship, with " Calypso " embroidered on his cap.

They did not love the United States at that moment in Cuba. Captain William Walker, whom some one has called the "grayeyed nuisance of destiny," was fresh in his exploits of filibusterdom, and no American was allowed to visit the Morro Castle. Several Americans had lately been imprisoned, notoriously one editor, whose case will be fresh in the minds of many.

But the uniform of our gallant navy, and the guns of the Calypso, and our broad pennon floating from the topmast, were a protection of the proudest. The captain, however, mindful of his humble charge (the negro Manuel), provided him with a special paper from the governor-general, which gave him liberty to walk about the city of Havana, and which would protect him, in case of difficulty or danger, from arrest.

Then, going up to the agreeable hotel of Mrs. Almy, where Americans most do congregate, the young men gave themselves

up for a few days to the fascinations of the gayest city of the Antilles, and one of the most peculiar and beautiful of all the cities of the world Havana, a city unlike any other, and well worth seeing once in a lifetime. Father Ambrosius had quietly bidden them good-morning, and had disappeared as soon as the first boat from the Calypso touched the shore. There are many priests, holy brothers, friars, monks, and so on, in Havana, and often Captain Belknap thought he saw him, but he would find only another brown robe, another cowl, another shaven head, but not Father Ambrosius.

At length he found the time had come to go in search of Don Pedro de Santillo, a wealthy planter, who lived up in the country beyond Matanzas. He told Horace of his plans, put him temporarily in charge of the Calypso, and took with him Manuel, who hoped, at Matanzas, to find his son, a slave on one of the coffee-plantations.

And from that moment Captain Belknap (who, for the comfort of the thing, had divested himself of his uniform, and wore simply the linen clothes of the island) was lost for many months to the ship he commanded, the friends he loved, the people whose object and duty it was to search for him.

When the time came for him to return to his ship, Horace of course watched for him anxiously. When a day, several days, a week, had passed, then the search began in good earnest. The Spanish Government were not anxious to be held responsible for the loss of a naval officer-one of high rank, and commanding a ship-of-war in their port-but Captain Belknap had disappeared, and no one could find him. To do them justice, the Spanish officials worked hard, but fruitlessly. Poor Manuel-whose fate no one cared for particu larly-and his temporary friend and master had disappeared from the face of the earth. There was no telegraph, as now, to the United States; so Horace Heywood, in the absence of his superior, took command of the Calyp so, and went on with his cruise. Don Pedro de Santillo, a fine, patriarchal old planter, had received the visit of Captain Belknap, had put him in possession of valuable papers, and had noticed his servant, a fine old whitehaired African, but had seen them all depart from his house with an English gentleman, who was also his guest, and who he said had struck up quite an acquaintance with Captain Belknap.

This was all Horace could learn. Some foul play had been done the party between the plantation of Don Pedro de Santillo and Matanzas, but nothing more could be learned.

There was diplomatic correspondence enough to liberate ten thousand officers. Ships-of-war were sent bither and thither, but Captain Belknap was not found.

It is now proper to return to the fate of poor Belknap, who had, through his unlucky confidence in Father Ambrosius, thrown himself entirely into the hands of a powerful or ganization, who had the most intense reason for finding him out, and for suppressing him -that of gaining for Mother Church a very large fortune, the fortune of Julia Sinclair. It was for this that Father Ambrosius had laid in wait at St. Thomas; it was for this

that he had accompanied the unsuspicious Belknap, and had wormed from him the valuable information he had gained; it was for this that he caused him to be waylaid and decoyed until he got him into the Morro Castle.

For Belknap, after gaining from Don Pedro all the information he needed, had been very much fascinated with the conversation of an English gentleman, Mr. St. John, who talked to him of the extent, majesty, and worth of Havana's great fortification, the Morro Castle. It was, as we have said, forbidden to Americans to visit that extensive work-one of the many of which the story is told that Charles V. asked if they were being built of silver-and Belknap felt a great desire to see it. Mr. St. John went on expatiating, and finally proposed that Captain Belknap should change his name, and, remaining one night perdu at his lodgings in Havana, should go with him, under his pass as an Englishman, to visit the Morro.

Belknap, with his singular want of discretion, consented, and, on a certain Tuesday, Mr. St. John and Mr. Brown visited the Morro Castle. Mr. St. John came out, but Mr. Brown did not.

All this conversation had passed as they drove from the plantation to Matanzas, in the presence of Manuel, who was to be left there to find his unhappy son-who had been condemned to the chain-gang. By what mysterious telegraph or letter these poor people communicate with each other no one knows, but that they do so is well known. Manuel, who could neither read nor write, had heard in Santa Cruz of his son's trouble, and he had some mysterious intention of helping himno one knew how or wherefore.

With intuitive cunning and a slave's instinct that instinct immortalized in the classic statue of the "Rémoleur," who listens, as he grinds his knife, to the story of conspiracy-Manual listened to Mr. St. John and his young master, and heard every word of their talk. He did not like to be left at Matanzas, for he felt evil in the air; but, on Captain Belknap's telling him that it was his last opportunity to see his son, he consented.

With that regard, too, for a written paper which all ignorant persons possess, Manuel had twisted the governor's protecting pass into a small wisp, and had braided it in his thick, woolly white hair. Some one has wittily said that no one has so much regard for a printed book as one who cannot read. Manuel a written paper was cabalistic.

To

It was well for him that he had taken the precaution, for that night, after a day spent watching his unhappy son, as, with a cannonball chained to an already sore and festering limb, he walked his heavy round as one of the chain-gang (slaves are condemned to this punishment for an attempt to revolt), he, Manuel, was sleeping on a mat before the wretched prison-door which held the culprits at night, when he was set upon by four armed men. He was a powerful negro, and armed with a sailor's cutlass. In the effort to defend himself he wounded one of the men severely. He was overpowered, his navyclothes and cap torn from him, and he was carried off to a wretched prison. From that

the next morning he was borne, heavily chained, to the interior of the island-he knew not where.

In the horrors of a sugar-boiling house, where the slaves are worked, in Cuba, eighteen hours out of the twenty-four, Manuel passed the next three months-occasionally feeling for the paper hidden in his hair. That was safe, but the time to use it had not

come.

Meantime Captain Belknap and Mr. St. John had gone to Havana, passed the night at Mr. St. John's lodgings, where the unsuspecting American left his name, his belongings, even his papers, lest some search should be made at the Morro, and proceeded to inspect the castle. Polite officials received them, passed them from casemate to casemate, showed them the acres of stone-wall which defend Cuba, and, finally, arriving at a wicket, they were temporarily stopped and asked their names. They recorded them: "Henry St. John, Charles Brown, London, England." They then penetrated farther into the secrets of the Morro. At this point Mr. St. John went off to speak to a Spanish officer, and Belknap stopped to look at his own ship, the Calypso, which he saw proudly riding at anchor in the beautiful harbor below him. Then, wandering a little farther, he entered a large stone room, looked around for St. John, heard an iron door shut behind him, and realized in a moment of time, but in an eternity of anguish, that he was entrappeda prisoner!

Yes, a moment before he had seen through a window his own ship; now, a nameless man, with no proof of his identity or his nationality, he was a prisoner, caught in the most carefully-prepared trap. Could such a transition be possible?

For he had shut off all hope. As an American officer, he had no right in the Morro Castle; as Mr. Brown, he had no hope-for who was Mr. Brown ?

He realized it all, and bitterly cursed the day when he had first seen Father Ambrosius.

For the next three months he was as carefully watched as the Man in the Iron Mask. He could not communicate at all with the outer world. He was fed and treated well enough, even allowed some books; but, as these were devotional, and in the Spanish language, he did not derive much comfort from them. He went through the ordinary despair and madness of a prisoner, then sank into a torpor, and commenced cultivating the spiders in his window.

Horace Heywood, meantime, had performed his South American journey, and started for the United States. When the Calypso had entered New York Harbor, he went im- | mediately to see Belknap's poor mother and her adopted daughter, Miss Sinclair. He found a beautiful young woman, who reminded him immediately of May Castleton.

"And you are sure every thing was done to prosecute the search for poor James?" said she, in those same sweet contralto tones which he remembered at Santa Cruz.

"Oh, yes; money is being spent freely by our government now to follow up every clew. I fear the poor fellow was murdered. You see he had, through the generosity of his dis

position, taken a negro from Santa Cruz to Cuba-a most imprudent thing to do-and my theory is, that Manuel got into some trouble, and that poor Belknap in defending him was murdered and put out of the way."

Of course Horace, as the nearest friend of Belknap, was very important and interesting to these two poor ladies, who hung upon his every word.

Meantime, Father Ambrosius was not idle. By his profound and well-laid plot, his amiable and accomplished tool Mr. St. John, and by Belknap's unlucky complaisance, he had gained every thing he wanted, even Belkuap's papers. Belknap's disappearance, and the noise made about it, did not trouble him at all. He knew that the American Government would not find him, and that after a little squabbling in Congress the matter would be dropped, and poor Belknap forgotten. He was in the country where his Church is most favored, and he had that great power on his side.

But he had forgotten the fable of the lion and the mouse. The humblest element in this mixed story was to prove the deliverer. Manuel was the mouse who was to gnaw the net, and to upset Father Ambrosius and all his cunning.

We must now return to Santa Cruz and to May Castleton, who sat at her window looking into her garden, one tropical morning-on just such a morning as that when with Captain Belknap she had talked of the poor slave who wanted to go to Cuba. Months and seasons make no difference in Santa Cruz, and June is like December. She was thinking of Belknap, wondering that she had not heard of him or of Manuel, for no word had reached her of the disappearance of the captain. Horace had not known of the consultations with Counselor Federstahl or of the suggestions which had made Miss Castleton an important link in Captain Belknap's discoveries. Therefore he had not written, and news comes slowly to Santa Cruz.

May could hardly tell whether it was reality, or only a part of her dreaming, as she saw Manuel, wasted, old, and decrepit, coming toward her. He crept up one of the garden-avenues, and beckoned to her. She went to him; he fell on his face at her feet.

Through unexampled hardships and perils he had run away from the sugar-plantation, had reached Havana, and then, using the governor's pass, had tried to find an American ship in the harbor. Unfortunately, there was none at the moment. He had in his search run against Father Ambrosius, whom he recognized, and, with true instinct regarding him as the cause of all his woes, he had hastily retreated, and left Havana on one of the steamers coming back to Santa Cruz, where, working his passage, he reached St. Thomas and home easily.

His hardships, and troubles, and fears, had told severely on him; for he was an old man, but he managed to give a very correct account of the conversation between Captain Belknap and St. John, and of his fears of foul play.

May wrote a note immediately to Counselor Federstahl, detailing Manuel's strange story.