Do not draw upon you a person’s enmity, for enmity is never appeased—injury returns upon him who injures—and sharp words recoil against him who says them.

Chinese Proverb.

On the green and flowery banks of the beautiful Lake Tai-hoo, whose surface bears a thousand isles, resting like emeralds amid translucent pearl, dwelt Whanki the mother of Lí. The mother of Lí! Ah happy distinction—ah envied title! For where, far or near, was the name could rank with Lí on the scroll of learning—receiving even in childhood the title of the “Exiled Immortal,” from his skill in classic and historical lore!

Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, while the antelope that fed among the hills was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could draw such music from the seven silken strings of the Kin! or when with graceful touch his fingers swept the lute, adding thereto the well-skilled melody of his voice, youths and maidens opened their ears to listen, for wonderful was the ravishing harmony.

Yet although the gods of learning smiled upon this youthful disciple of Confucius, poverty came also with her iron hand, and although she could not crush the active mind of Lí, with a strong grip, she held him back from testing his skill with the ambitious literati, both old and young, who annually flocked to the capital to present their themes before the examiners. For even in those days as the present, money was required to purchase the smiles of these severe judges. They must read with golden spectacles—or wo to the unhappy youth who, buoyant with hope and—empty pockets, comes before them! With what contempt is his essay cast aside, not worth the reading!

Sorely vexed, therefore, was poor Lí—and what wonder—to know that he might safely cope with any candidate in the “Scientific Halls,” yet dare not for the lack of sycee (silver) enter their gates, lest disgrace might fall upon him.

Yet Lí was of a merry heart—and, as all the world knows, there is no better panacea for the ills of fortune than the spirit of cheerfulness. Thus, although poverty barred the way to promotion, it could not materially affect his happiness—no more than the passing wind which for a moment ruffled the surface of the lake, yet had no power to move its depths.

Now it happened that one day taking his nets Lí went down to the lake, and as he cast them within the waters, not knowing any one was near, he broke forth into a merry song, which sent its glad burthen far off to the lips of mocking Echo, like Ariel, seeming to “ride on the curled clouds.” Now it also chanced, that within a grove of the graceful bamboo, which skirted the path down which Lí had passed on his way, walked the great Mandarin Hok-wan.

“Hi! by the head of Confucius the fellow sings well!” he exclaimed, as the song met his ear, (for, as we have said, Lí had a voice of rare melody,) and forthwith issuing from his concealment, Hok-wan seated himself upon the bank and entered into conversation with the young fisherman.

If the mere melody of the voice had so charmed the mandarin, how much more was he captivated by the wit and learning of the youth, who, thus poorly appareled, and humbly employed, seemed to share wisdom with the gods! Hok-wan stroked his eye-brows in astonishment, and then bidding Lí leave his nets, he bore him off as a rare prize to his own house, where he that day feasted a numerous company.

First conducting Lí to an inner apartment, he presented him with a magnificent robe richly embroidered, together with every article necessary to complete the toilet of a person of distinction, and when thus appareled, introduced him into the presence of his guests. And truly Lí walked in among them with all the stateliness and hauteur of a man who feels that he is conferring an honor, instead of being honored, as no doubt Lí should have considered himself, in such an august assemblage of grave mandarins. With what an air he seated himself at the sumptuously loaded table! where, according to Chinese custom of the higher classes, the various dishes of meats, soups, fish, preserves, etc., were all nearly hidden by large bouquets of beautiful flowers, and pyramids of green leaves.

And now no sooner had Hok-wan delivered with all customary formality the speech of welcome, and drained to the health of his guests the tiny goblet of crystal, embossed with gold, than rising to his feet, and joining his hands before his breast, in token of respect to his host, Lí called a servant, and bidding him take a part from all the good things spread before him, said:

“Carry these to the dwelling of Whanki, the mother of Lí. Say to her that as the sands on the lake shore, countless are the blessings of the gods, who have this day smiled upon her son. Bid her eat—for although from hunger he should gnaw his flesh, and from thirst drink his blood, yet not one morsel of this banquet shall pass the lips of Lí unless his aged mother be also sustained by the same delicacies.”

At hearing which, all the mandarins, and Hok-wan himself, loudly expressed their admiration. Such is the esteem which the Chinese entertain for filial piety.

This duty discharged, Lí attacked the dainties before him like a hungry soldier, yet seasoning all he said and did with so much wit and humor, that the guests laid down their chop-sticks and listened with wonder. With the wine, Li grew still more merry—his wit cut like hail-stones wheresoe’er it lighted, and at his jovial songs the grave dignitaries forgetting their rank, (somewhat washed away by copious draughts of sam-shu,[^[1]]) snapped their fingers, wagged their shorn heads, and even rising from the table embraced him familiarly. At length, when after an interval of a few hours their hilarity was somewhat abated, during which the guests walked in the beautiful gardens, or reclining upon luxuriant cushions, regaled themselves with their pipes, or in masticating their favorite betel-nut, Lí made bare his bosom before them, and to their astonishment they found it was only a needy scholar whose praises they had been shouting.

A needy scholar!

How firmly they clutched their fobs, lest a candareen [^[2]] might jump into the pocket of the needy scholar. But of advice they were as profuse as grass-hoppers in August.

“Go to the capital—go to Kiang-fu,” (Nankin the ancient capital of the empire,) “thou wilt perplex the learned—thou wilt bewilder the ignorant!” said one.

“Hi! this fellow Lí will yet stand with honor before the emperor,” cried another.

“Appear boldly in the ‘Scientific Halls’ before the Examiners,” said a third, “and never fear but thy name shall be cried at midnight from the highest tower in the city,[^[3]] as the successful Lí, with whom no other candidate can compete!”

“When the wind blows over the fields does not the grass bend before it!” said Hok-wan. “When the great Ho speaks will not inferiors obey! the learned academician Ho is my brother—to him then you shall go—one word from him, and even the judges themselves shall cry your name.”

“Ivory does not come from a rat’s mouth, or gold from brass clippings,” thought Lí, as he listened to these remarks—“a few candareens now would be better for me than all this fine talk—truly I must be a fool not to know all this stuff before. Yet by the sacred manes of my ancestors, I will go to the capital, and that, too, ere another sun ripens the rice-fields—furnished with a letter to the illustrious Ho, I may dare admittance.”

Giddy with wine, and with the excitement of high hopes for the future, at a late hour Lí was borne in a sumptuous palankeen to the humble dwelling of Whanki.

The poor old soul at first knew not the gay gallant who stood before her, so much had the gift-robes of the mandarin changed his appearance.

“Heigh-yah! but, Lí, thou art as fine as a magpie,” quoth she, raising her head from the pan of charcoal, over which she seemed to be simmering something in a small dish—“Heigh—and now I look at you again, I see you have drank of that cursed sam-shu—forever abhorred be the name of I-tih![^[4]] with all thy wit dost thou not know the wise saying of Mencius—‘Like a crane among hens is a man of parts among fools.’ (It may be inferred, I think, that the good old Whanki was something of a scold.) And while thou hast been guzzling, see what I have prepared for thee—what had I to do with birds-nest soup, and with shark’s fins, and with pigeon’s eggs from the table of Hok-wan! My poor Lí will be too modest to eat with the great company, I said to myself, and I will not eat them, but warm them up to comfort him when he comes back—look, here they are,” (lifting the dish from the fire) “and yet thou comest home like a well-fed, stupid swine!”

“Now tu-h, mother,” answered Lí, “if thy son has been drinking with fools, they wore fine feathers—and now embrace me, for I am going to the capital.”

“Lí, thou art drunk—go to bed—the capital indeed! Ah cursed, cursed I-tih!” exclaimed the old woman.

But when at length Lí convinced her that he was neither drunk nor crazy, but in reality about to start for Nankin, as a candidate for honors in the Scientific Halls, and with a letter to the great Ho in his pouch, Whanki knocked her head reverently before the shrine of the household gods in token of gratitude.

The remainder of the night was passed in preparations for the journey, and just as the golden ripples of the lake danced in the rays of the rising sun, Lí tenderly embraced his aged parent, and set forth on foot for Nankin, more than a hundred miles distant.

“Ah, the blessed bug,” quoth the old woman, gazing after him so long as she could catch a glimpse of his large bamboo hat, “he will not want for rice any day—no sycee has he in his pockets, but such a tongue in his head, as will bring him food and honors.”

Whanki was right. In every hamlet he passed through—in every cottage by the wayside, Lí found a shelter and a welcome—the good people considering themselves amply repaid for their hospitality if the young stranger would but touch the strings of the pipa, or recite to them odes from the Shoo-king.

In this manner he reached the capital, and crossing the marble bridge over the great canal, upon the eastern side, entered the city at the Gate of Extensive Peace. Going into the first barber’s shop which offered, Lí carefully plucked out his beard, (hear this, ye exquisites of modern days!) shaved his head anew to the crown, and plaited his long black hair with red ribbons. Then entering an adjoining tavern, he exchanged his dusty, travel-worn garments for the rich dress presented him by Hok-wan, which he had preserved with great care for the occasion, and holding up his fan, to shield his eyes from the sun, stepped forth into the busy streets, to look for the dwelling of the illustrious Ho.

And next, within the Hall of Ceremony, in the elegant mansion of Ho, behold Lí in the presence of the great man himself—for with the same audacity which marked his behavior at the dinner of Hok-wan, had Lí given the door-keeper a vermilion card, leading Ho to expect a visiter of rank. Advancing three steps to meet him, Ho bows low to his stranger guest—then with graceful ease Lí also advances three step, and bows still lower—Ho again gravely steps forward and makes another salutation—upon which Lí again does the same—with a still lower bending of the body, Ho once more advances—whereupon Lí, nearly touching the marble pavements with his forehead, steps forward yet another three steps! By this time their united and solemn paces had brought them near the couch upon which visiters are expected to repose themselves. And here again the same formalities were gone through with, as to who should first be seated thereon. But being seated, Lí at once burst forth with such a flow of wit and fancy, that Ho was completely captivated ere he knew the name or business of the daring youth!

Now this was a capital stroke of Lí. For the academician cared not so much for any dignitary under the Emperor Supreme, as he did for a man of learning, or even for one who could tickle the moments as they flew with witty jests, provoking laughter. Ho saw at once that Lí not only possessed this recommendation, but that his knowledge could also ring on as many topics as there were bells to the Porcelain Tower. When, therefore, he had perused the letter of Hok-wan, which, after securing his ground, Lí put into his hand, and after having listened to the history which the youth gave of his hard struggles, of his poverty, and earnest desire to come before the judges on the day of examination, than Ho, embracing him, bade him be of good cheer.

“Now, by the sacred Budha!” he exclaimed, “learning like thine shall win its crown without the aid of propitiatory gifts, save to the gods themselves. Know, O Lí, that Yang and Kau, who enjoy the smiles of the great emperor, are this year the examiners. To them shalt thou go, with no favor but my name—humble as it is, it shall cause thine to be enrolled among the literati of the Imperial Academy!”

No doubt Ho manifested great vanity in this, in so much as hinting that his “humble” name could balance with gold in the scales of avarice! Nevertheless Lí was delighted, and immediately set about piling up such a cloud castle as spread over his whole heaven of glory.

And now the day of examination approached, and confident of success, Lí boldly presented himself for admission.

Offering the memorial of Ho, which was to insure him, as he supposed, the favor of the judges, he was much surprised to see those great men, Yang and Kau, after turning over the missive with elevated noses, expressive of their contempt, cast it from them with scorn.

“Heigh! the academician Ho thinks to cheat us with bubbles! He sends us a scrawl devoid of meaning, to bespeak our favor for an upstart without degree or title! Yes—we will remember the name of Lí!” Saying which, they cast looks of bitter disdain upon the needy scholar.

Then commenced the tedious formula of the examination. The candidates, hundreds in number, were all obliged to undergo the strict search of the officers in attendance. Their robes, pockets, shoes, and even their nicely plaited queues were examined, to see they had not secreted some essay or composition of some kind, which they might substitute for one written on the spot without preparation, when the examiners should command them. This done, they were all seated on long benches with their paper and pencils ready for the trial—the doors and windows in the meanwhile being closely barred and guarded, that no one from without should have the power of smuggling any written paper into the hands of the students.

At a signal-gun the theme for composition was given out, and, like the velvet feet of butterflies, the pencils of the rival candidates glided smoothly and fleetly over the tinted paper. With perfect composure and ease, Lí wrote off his essay in the most beautiful characters, without a single erasure or omission—handling the subject with great skill and judgment, and gave it into the hands of Yang.

“Heigh!” said Yang, without giving himself even the trouble to glance over it, but drawing his pencil derisively over the fair and beautiful characters, “I remember the name of Lí! What stuff is here—why the fellow is only fit to grind my ink!”

“To grind your ink!” quoth Kau, “say rather he is only fit to lace my buskins!”

And laughing loudly at their own wit, the great judges Yang and Kau turned their backs upon the unfortunate Lí.

Overwhelmed with mortification and rage, he rushed to the lower end of the hall, and there was obliged to remain until evening, as not until then could the doors be thrown open to give egress to any one. Here he had the vexation of listening to the jibes and sneers of those around him, and of seeing others promoted to honors, who were as far inferior to him as owls to eagles! What a bitter day for poor Lí! and when at length dismissed with renewed contumely from the Scientific Halls, he rushed into the presence of Ho, swearing loudly that he would one day ride over the necks of the proud Yang and Kau, “and by the head of Confucius when I do—Yang shall grind my ink, and Kau lace up my buskins!” he cried with bitterness.

Ho was terribly indignant at the treatment of his protégé, as well as incensed for the insult he imagined his own dignity had received. But, although he was himself high in favor with the emperor, Yang and Kau stood still higher, therefore he dissembled his anger, lest his head might pay the forfeit, should those two powerful courtiers incense the emperor against him.

When he found Lí preparing to return home, he embraced him kindly, and bade him tarry yet another year in the capital.

“In the end thou wilt surely succeed, O Lí. The next year the examiners will not be the same, and thou may’st then be certain of success,” said Ho. “Remain with me until the time comes round—thy days and nights shall roll off bright and rosy as morning clouds—wine, wit, and music, yes, and the smiles of women, shall make thee forget the insults thou hast received.”

But Lí remembered his aged mother, sitting solitary in her humble home by the side of the lake, and his resolution strengthened.

“Know, O Ho, that an old mother waits for Lí afar off. Summer and harvest will come, but Whanki has no one to sow her rice, and desolation will sit in her dwelling. The fish sport and gambol amid the waters of the lake—Whanki has no strength to draw them forth, therefore hunger and death will await her! What profit, O wise Ho, should I gain if my aged parent suffered! Would not the gods curse the race of Lí!”

“Noble youth, take this purse—it is heavy,” exclaimed Ho—“hasten to relieve the necessities of thy mother—a happy mother in so dutiful a son—then return without delay and await the examination. I promise thee, thou shalt not this time lack a present for the greedy judges—though, by Budha, I would like to give it them at the dagger’s point!”

Accordingly Lí bade farewell to his generous friend, promising to return as speedily as possible.

[1]	A deleterious liquor distilled from rice.

[2]	A Chinese coin.

[3]	The custom of announcing the names of the successful candidates at the examination.

[4]	The god of intoxicating liquors.

PART II.

A man who has a tongue may go to Rome.

Chin. Prov’b.

Within the “Tranquil Palace of Heaven,” Hwant-sung sat upon the Dragon’s Throne, with all his court prostrate before him.

There was evidently “something rotten in the state of Denmark,” for the clouds which veiled the august features of the Celestial Monarch were black as night—thunder might soon be expected, and low in the dust his humble courtiers awaited the outpouring of his terrible wrath.

Before his footstool knelt the Premier Yang, bearing in his hand an official document inscribed with curious hieroglyphics.

“By my ancestors,” exclaimed the emperor, with a wrathful look from one to the other of his trembling courtiers, “a wise court is sustained by the bounty of Hwant-sung! say rather a pack of idiots, asses, dolts, fatted dogs! What! shall we become a jibe in the mouths of foreign nations! Shall barbarian kings mock the court of Nankin! Hi! Is there not one then of my learned counsellors—not one of my renowned warriors can decipher me this scroll! Tremble, then, ye hounds! Yang, I command thee to make known to us the purport of the missive which the foreign ambassadors have brought to our court.”

At this order well might Yang turn pale—for there was no more meaning to him in the characters on which his eyes were fixed, than in the slimy trail which the green lizard draws upon the sand. Over and over he turned it—now on this side, now on that—watched narrowly and jealously meanwhile by all around—for when was one high in favor with princes also the favorite with the mass! At length, nine times reverently knocking his head before Hwant-sung, Yang said:

“Let not the displeasure of Earth’s Glory, before whose frown the whole world stands affrighted, annihilate his slave that the gods have not granted him power to do the will of his majesty in this thing. He cannot read.”

Then did Hwant-sung call up one after another of those whose scholastic lore was famed throughout the empire. In vain. Not one could understand the mysterious scroll. At which, becoming exceeding wroth, Hwant-sung swore that unless within three days his ministers could make known to him the signification of the embassy, their offices and salaries should all be taken from them—and if in six days they were still in ignorance, their death should release the empire from so many stupid owls!

Then did the academician Ho humbly present himself at the foot of the throne.

“Will the emperor deign to open the ears of graciousness while the humblest of his slaves speaks? Know then, O mighty sovereign, there arrived last night at my house a man in whom all knowledge seems to centre. His mind, keen as the lightning, penetrates the most hidden mysteries—there is no science, no art, which he hath not already mastered. Command then that he appear before thee to make plain that which doth perplex thy majesty’s servants.”

Hwant-sung rejoiced greatly at this information, and bade Ho bring the learned scholar at once into his presence.

But when Ho, eager with joy, related to Lí the good fortune he had secured him, that audacious youth positively refused compliance with the commands of the emperor! offering as an excuse, that as he was but a poor scholar, without title or degree, he dared not presume to appear before so much majesty.

With this answer then the unhappy Ho returned to the palace, not doubting but the rage of Hwant-sung would vent itself not only upon Lí, but also upon himself.

Kneeling before the monarch, Ho exclaimed reverently—

“Will your majesty once more graciously listen. At the last examination, this man of whom I have spoken was turned from the Scientific Halls in disgrace—his essay rejected by the Premier Yang and the General Kau. Will it then please thee to bestow some favor upon Lí, that he may with more propriety come into this august presence?”

“It shall be done,” exclaimed the emperor. “We confer upon Lí the title of Doctor of the first degree, together with the purple robe and yellow girdle. Go bring him before us.”

With this mark of royal patronage, Ho retraced his steps with all the alacrity of a lover, and made known to Lí the gracious favors of the emperor, supposing, doubtless, that the student would rejoice as one long blind now suddenly restored to light, or as a famished man at a feast. But lo! coolly putting on the robes of office, as if he had but just cast them aside, with the air of a prince, Lí signified to the great academician Ho his readiness now to obey the mandate of the emperor.

Entering the hall of audience with all the grace and ease of a man bred in courts, Lí advanced to the throne, and after paying the customary homage, rose to his feet and looked proudly around upon the assembly of grave men and gallant courtiers.

The knees of the Premier Yang smote each other, as he recognized the youth he had treated with so much contumely now suddenly brought into notice—and well did Kau now remember the name of Lí—and it seemed as if hot pins tore his flesh, into such agitation did that name now throw him.

Hwant-sung received the new doctor with condescension, and placed in his hand the document which he was required to make plain.

But Lí, casting a meaning glance upon Yang and Kau, said:

“Can an indifferent scholar like myself presume to know more than these learned men! Know, O mighty emperor, thy servant was deemed unworthy of favor by thy commissioners Yang and Kau—surely, then, they must be more wise than Lí.”

Charmed with the boldness of the youth, the emperor graciously smiled upon him, and motioned the two mortified examiners to withdraw.

Then standing erect, his head thrown back, yet in an attitude of careless ease, Lí opened the important missive, and without even glancing his eye over it to understand more fully its nature, read it aloud from beginning to end, in a clear, melodious voice.

It proved to be a demand from the king of Po-Hai, couched in the most insulting language, requiring the emperor to restore a part of Corea, consisting of no less than a hundred and eighty towns, and also demanding tribute from the time of its “usurpation” (as the memorial expressed it) by the Emperor of the Tang Dynasty. Thus, but for the skill of Lí, the empire would have been plunged in irretrievable disgrace through the ignorance of its ministers.

The countenance of Hwant-sung grew black as midnight as he listened to this insulting claim, and but for the bold remonstrance of Lí, he would have ordered the bearers of the embassy to instant death.

“May it please your majesty to summon the boorish ambassadors before us,” cried Lí boldly, “I will myself confer with them, and teach them how to respect the mighty Emperor Hwant-sung.”

Immediately, therefore, the ambassadors were brought before Lí, who conversed with them in their own language with the same haughty bearing as if he himself were emperor, interpreting as he did so to the indignant Hwant-sung. At length Lí dismissed them, saying:

“To-morrow his sovereign majesty, to whom your prince is but an earth-worm, will indite an answer to your insulting embassy. Retire—and tremble as ye walk! Thank the gods that the gracious emperor deigns ye to live.”

The audience chamber rang with acclamation, as the ambassadors obsequiously withdrew in compliance to the orders of Lí, and all the courtiers pressed forward to compliment the young doctor—while the emperor, embracing him, conferred upon him at once the rank of academician, and ordered apartments to be prepared for him in the palace of the Golden Bell.

With continued graciousness, he also directed a sumptuous banquet to be got in readiness, and at which all the learned men and wits of the court were expected to appear. Wine was poured for the guests by beautiful young girls of the “golden lilies”[^[5]]—ravishing music swept around them, while at intervals of the feast, the emperor sent from his own apartments a choice theatrical corps for their entertainment.

Now did it seem that all the trials of Lí were over, his poverty but a dream long past, and that now upon the pinnacle to which his ambition had pointed from early youth, he stood ready to hurl back in the teeth of his enemies the disgrace which, only a few months before, they had heaped upon the name of Lí.

The feast wore on even into the night—the wine circulated freely, and in the same breath the courtiers exalted the name of the emperor and of the young academician. What wonder that under the attendance of such charming cup-bearers Lí should have drank more freely than was consistent with his new dignity! How from such hands could he resist the tempting goblet!

The result was, that when the next morning the emperor repaired to the Hall of Audience to treat with the embassy from Po-Hai, the academician Lí was not in attendance—nay, did not make his appearance until after being twice summoned by royal mandate!

The courtiers with whom Lí had feasted the night previous, shook their heads and looked significant. The Premier Yang and the General Kau resumed their usual boldness of demeanor, for no doubt this upstart, this vagabond Lí, would find the anger of their Celestial Monarch more than his head was worth—decapitation would certainly follow such contempt of royalty!

To be twice summoned—what audacity!

At length Li walked carelessly into the hall—his dress somewhat disordered, and his feet thrust negligently into slippers. But for those who were hoping his ruin, what rage to see the emperor not only extend his own royal hand in signification that he would raise him from the ground, but also condescend to inquire after his health!

“I think, learned doctor, the wine was to thy fancy, yet methinks the fumes are still troubling thee! Ere we proceed to our public duties I would have thy wits clearer.”

Saying which, Hwant-sung ordered a plate of hot-spiced fish-broth to be brought from the royal kitchens, that its effects might dissipate the evils of last night’s debauch.

And when with unprecedented condescension their sovereign even took the chop-sticks, and himself cooled it for the palate of Lí, amazement almost turned them to marble.

When his majesty deemed the senses of his new favorite sufficiently restored, the ambassadors were summoned into the hall.

Upon the top of the platform, near the foot of the “Dragon’s Throne,” was placed, by the order of Hwant-sung, a cushion or divan of the Imperial Yellow, embroidered with gold and silver, and upon a tablet formed of mother-of-pearl, and richly set in a band of emeralds, was a cake of perfumed ink—a sheet of flowery paper—a hair-pencil set in a gold tube, together with a small jade stone, with which to rub the ink.

Waving his hand condescendingly to Lí, the emperor spoke: “Ascend the platform, learned doctor, and repose thyself upon the cushions at my feet, while I indite to thee our answer to these slaves.”

“May it please your majesty,” replied Lí, “my feet are not in proper dress to approach so near the ‘Glory of the Earth.’ Will it please thee to command new buskins to be brought thy servant, that he may with decency ascend the platform.”

This bold request was no sooner proffered than it was granted. And then, with a significant glance to the spot where stood Yang and Kau, pale with rage and envy, the audacious Lí again addressed the emperor:

“The humblest of thy slaves would not be officious—but he has one more request to lay at the feet of his gracious sovereign. At the examination this year, thy servant was repulsed by Yang, and turned from the Scientific Halls in disgrace by Kau! Will it therefore please thee to command the Premier Yang to grind my ink, and the General Kau to lace my buskins!”

Never, perhaps, was an audience-chamber so insulted! Even the awe which, in the presence of the Celestial Monarch, rendered the courtiers less men than jackals, failed in this case to suppress a murmur of indignation which passed from one end of the hall to the other.

But Hwant-sung, well pleased to punish the injustice of his commissioners, immediately ordered them both to approach and do the bidding of Lí!

To disobey was death. They wanted courage to die, therefore preferring disgrace, they obsequiously advanced. Kneeling, Kau laced the buskins of Lí, who then ascended the platform, and while reclining at his ease upon the soft cushion at the feet of the emperor, Yang stood at his side assiduously rubbing his ink!

Thus did Lí accomplish his revenge, and triumph over his enemies!

Taking the pencil, he now, with rapid and easy strokes, proceeded to indite the answer, which the emperor vouchsafed to the Po-Hai embassy, and while he did so, Hwant-sung bent over him in astonishment, beholding the characters which he traced with so much rapidity to be identical with those which had so perplexed his court.

Then standing erect upon the right hand of the “Dragon’s Throne,” in clear distinct tones, Lí read aloud the imperial answer—the ambassadors trembling with fear as they listened.

“And now return,” exclaimed Lí, “and teach your king that foxes may not war with lions, nor the cuckoo steal into the eagle’s nest! He is like a vexed grasshopper striving to combat the mighty chariot about to crush him, or like a fly in the jaws of the dragon! When the mighty Hwant-sung, at whose name fear sits in the hearts of all nations, shall send a handful of men to seize upon the petty territory of Po-Hai, blood shall flow a thousand li!”[^[6]]

Kneeling reverently before the throne, and knocking their heads in token of submission, the ambassadors then withdrew to relate to their king that the “Celestial Empire was upheld by an Immortal from the skies!” who stood ever by the throne of the Dragon, and to whom all men did reverence.

From that day the star of Lí was in the ascendent, and for many years he enjoyed the undivided confidence of the emperor, and attained a rank in the scale of letters, which renders the name of Lí celebrated in Chinese literature. Many volumes of his beautiful poems and other works are still preserved in the Imperial Libraries.

[5]	Small feet.

[6]

Leagues.

THE NAVAL OFFICER.

———

BY WM. F. LYNCH.

———

(Continued from page 164.)

Mr. Gillespie and his daughter had retired below when the sweeps were gotten out, and had now returned to the deck. Unconscious of danger, they looked admiringly upon the shining and beautiful scene. Nearly abreast the island of Porto Rico, in full view, lay basking in the beams of the setting sun, the dark, rich green of its luxuriant growth of cane, here and there varied by groves of the cotton-tree, amid which were seen clustering the settlements of the planters. Astern, but farther distant, Cape Engano stretched far to seaward, while inland, ridge over ridge, wooded to their summits, rose the picturesque mountains of St. Domingo. The numerous vessels in sight, mostly running before the wind, varying in size, in rig, and in the color of their canvas, enlivened the view, while nearer, the frigate in her towering proportions was borne majestically toward them.

“Oh, Edward! what a glorious sight!” said the maiden to her lover, who had stepped to her side, as she gained the deck. “Look, father! look at that splendid ship, doesn’t she cleave the waters ‘like a thing of life?’ But what is the matter, Edward? You are silent, and seem dejected, do tell me?”

“In a moment, dearest,” he whispered, as he left her to approach the captain, who had beckoned to him.

“Mr. Talbot,” said the last, “my little craft is in great peril, and less than an hour must decide her fate. The Spaniard will not be silent much longer, and I advise you to get the passengers below.”

“I was about to propose it,” replied Talbot, and returning to Miss Gillespie’s side, said, “summon your fortitude, Mary, the ship which you admire so much, is a Spanish frigate, and is endeavoring to capture the vessel we are in.”

“Oh, how unfortunate! and will they harm us? Can they hurt you and father and Frank? Good God! what is that?” and she shrieked as the ship luffed to the wind, and fired a shot, which went plunging across the bows of the schooner.

“Come below, dearest! come quickly! Help me, Mr. Gillespie, for she has nearly fainted.”

The maiden and her father were conducted to the most secure place below, when, resisting the entreaties of his mistress, Talbot returned to the deck, which Frank had refused to leave.

At the first report of the frigate’s gun, the captain had called out, “Edge her away, quarter-master, keep her off a point; let the guns alone,” he added, addressing some of the crew, “let them be, it would be worse than useless to fire them—the ‘Bird’ must now trust to her wings alone.”

The little vessel was in fact at the very crisis of her fate. The last shot had told that they were within reach of the guns of the enemy; they felt that their only avenue of escape was through a gauntlet of fire, and that the loss of a single spar would certainly insure their capture. It seemed perfect madness for such a wee thing to abide the wrath of the huge leviathan, panoplied in thunder, and possessing almost the power of annihilation. But, in the forlorn and desperate hope of sustaining the enemy’s fire for a few moments, without material injury her captain steadily pursued his way, but cut his anchors from the bow, and threw four of his guns overboard. If the wind had been light, the schooner’s chance would have been a fair one; but the breeze instead of lulling, seemed to freshen as the sun went down. As it was, however, there was a bare possibility of escape, for already the little vessel, lightened of so much weight, began to increase her velocity—still there was an abiding, a stunning fear of being sunk or disabled by the broadside of the frigate. The latter had already opened her fire, and near the chase, the fierce, iron hail had fairly lashed the water into foam, but the schooner was yet materially unharmed, when a voice more potent than that of gunpowder, hushed the loud artillery.

Unobserved by either, a light and fleecy speck, more like a wift of smoke than a fragment of a cloud, had risen over the land, and swift as a meteor shot across the sky. It was what sailors term a “white squall,” and it had caught the chaser and the chased wholly unprepared. Almost simultaneously it struck them both. The frigate's fore-mast and main-topmast went by the board, and every sail that was set, was blown into perfect shreds. The “Humming Bird,” light and resistless, felt the blast but to succumb before it—she was whirled over and capsized in an instant. A number of the crew, entangled in the sails and rigging were immediately drowned. The remainder clambered to the upper-rail, to which they clung with the tenacity that endangered life. In a paroxysm of anguish, Talbot had thrown himself down the cabin-hatchway as he felt the vessel going over, and at imminent hazard had rescued Miss Gillespie, but her father and the servant-maid perished. Frank had been saved by one of the seamen, who held him firmly with one hand, while with the other he clung to the shrouds.

As soon as the survivors were assured of their immediate safety, they looked around to see if there were any hopes of being rescued from their position before the night set in. The frigate had driven past them, and under a single after-sail was hove-to, clearing her hull of the wreck. To the westward, distinct in the reflected light of the sun, which had descended, were several vessels again unfolding to the breeze the canvas which they had wisely furled to the passing gust. Some of the larger ones were again standing boldly out to seaward, while the others like affrighted wild-fowl, were hovering toward the shore. They were all too distant, and the air was fast becoming too obscure for them to see the wreck, or the unfortunate beings who were perched upon it.

On the first recovery from her swoon, the grief of Miss Gillespie for the loss of her father was almost inconsolable. It required all the endearment and entreaties of her lover and her brother to prevail on her to struggle against the spasms which threatened her very existence.

The survivors strove to cheer each other, but the indiscreet cry of one that he saw the fin of a shark cleaving the surface of the water, led them to fear that they were environed by yet greater peril. In about two hours the moon arose, and her clear, chaste light silvered the crests of the waves, as they curled to the now gentle breeze. She had risen scarce more than her diameter, when the watchers on the wreck discovered two or three dark objects which seemed to creep upon the water. Their hopes and their fears were equally excited, but presently they heard the splash of oars, and they knew them to be boats from the frigate. As eager now to be taken as before to escape from capture, by shouts and cries they attracted the notice of those who sought them. They were soon removed to the frigate; the lady and her brother being led to the cabin, and the remainder, including Talbot, promiscuously confined on the lower deck.

Under jury-foremast and new main-topmast, the frigate was the next morning standing under easy sail, along the southern side of St. Domingo.

Repeatedly but ineffectually Talbot had endeavored to convey a message to Miss Gillespie, and spent the night in sleepless anxiety on her account. He knew not into whose hands she had fallen, and whether her youth and beauty might not, in the hands of unprincipled men, tempt to ruffianly treatment. Her brother was with her, it was true, but although spirited, he was young and feeble compared to the strong men around him.

Early in the morning, Talbot had asked to see the officer of the watch. He was told that he could not communicate with any one but through the officer of the marine guard, who would not make the rounds for three or four hours. Talbot impatiently waited for him, and it seemed an age before he made his appearance. When he did so, and was told that Talbot wished to speak to him, he superciliously asked, “Well, sir, what do you want?”

“I wish,” replied Talbot, “to communicate through you to the commander of this ship, that I hold a commission as lieutenant in the navy of the United States, and that with the family of Mr. Gillespie, I was a passenger on board of the privateer.”

“This is a singular tale,” remarked the other, incredulously; “have you any proofs of your identity—where is your commission?”

“I haven’t it; with all my baggage, it was, unhappily, lost in the schooner.”

“This seems incredible,” said the officer, “your dress, too, does not indicate the position you claim.”

“I am aware of it,” replied Talbot, “for I scrupulously avoided wearing any part of my uniform, that in appearance even, I might not be classed among the complement of that unfortunate vessel. But here is her commander, who, as well as his crew, will bear testimony to what I say.”

“Let them answer for themselves,” was the abrupt reply. “If they escape being hung as pirates, they will fare well.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “I will state what you say to Count Ureña, our commander, although I do not myself believe it; but let me advise you not to rely upon the evidence of these wretches,” pointing to the prisoners, “if you have no other proof you will fare badly.” As he said this, he turned upon his heel and walked away, Talbot with difficulty restraining himself from throttling him for his coarse, unfeeling rudeness.

Again, hour after hour passed away in fruitless anxiety. Every step upon the ladder which led from above, exciting a thrill of hope, only the instant after to be crushed in bitter disappointment. At length, about 2 P.M., an orderly, with a file of marines came to conduct him to the commander. With alacrity he obeyed the summons, and when he reached the gun-deck, from habits of association, he felt cheered at the sight of the long lines of massive artillery, the stacks of muskets here and there, surmounted with their bristling bayonets, and the bright sheen of the sharpened cutlases. As the cabin-door was thrown open by the sentry stationed there, he cast a quick and searching glance around the apartment, in the hope of seeing his betrothed. She was not there, and but for the guns projecting from either side, he could not have realized that he stood in the cabin of a man-of-war, so rich was its furniture and so gorgeous its decorations. Gracefully festooned across its entire width, and partially concealing the white and highly polished lattice-work of the after-cabin, was a deep curtain of crimson embroidered and fringed with gold. On either side, in the recesses between the guns, were magnificent couches canopied and covered with the same material, intertwined with white. Between the forward and the after gun, on each side, were collections of flowers and fragrant plants. A large mirror in an arabesque frame, was inclined over a rose-wood sideboard, laden with massive plate and a profusion of crystal. A richly chased silver lamp was suspended over a table, the cover of which was of white cloth, like the curtain, fringed with gold. Around were a few rose-wood chairs, and from several cages were heard the cheerful and melodious notes of canary-birds. The deck was covered with the finest matting. On the couch, in the recess to the left, was seated a man of middle age and rather delicate features, except the chin and under lip, which were massive and sensual, and a peculiar glance of the eye, which gave a sinister aspect to an otherwise singularly handsome countenance. He was spare in figure, and to a casual observer, even as he sat, it was perceptible that he stooped, and his whole appearance indicated a frequent participant in the orgies of dissipation. Before him stood the officer of marines, who had just made his official report. At a signal from the latter, Talbot advanced toward the count, who said, “I understand, sir, from the officer of the guard, that you declare yourself to be a lieutenant in the navy of the United States, but that you have no evidence to sustain you. How can you expect me to credit the assertion of a stranger under such suspicious circumstances as you must admit your present position to be?”

“You have a lady on board, sir, my affianced bride, who, with her brother, is here under the same circumstances with myself, they will tell you that I am not an impostor.”

“Your affianced bride,” said the count, not heeding what he had last said, “you are then the friend for whom she has been so restless and uneasy?”

“I knew that she would be so,” replied Talbot; “may I ask now to see her, that she may corroborate what I have said?”

“Not so fast,” exclaimed the count, “that you have gained the affections of the young lady is no proof of your being what you profess, indeed, you may have won them under an assumed name and character.”

“It ill becomes you, sir,” cried Talbot, highly incensed, “it ill becomes you to insult a man who for the time being is in your power; but I warn you that if I, or those with me, are unnecessarily detained or harshly treated, you will be held to a severe accountability.”

“And by whom, sir,” exclaimed the count, turning pale with rage, “by a man who has no other vouchers to a most improbable tale, than a horde of pirates, a mere boy, and a love-sick maiden?”

“The proofs are sufficient, sir, for any impartial mind, but I see plainly that you have some purpose in seeming to disbelieve them—what that purpose is your conscience best can tell.”

“What mean you, sir, by this insolence; but I know how to curb and to punish it!”

“Insolence! and punish!” contemptuously answered Talbot, “those are words used by cowards when addressing slaves. I defy alike your malice and your power. You may maltreat me, but a day of reckoning will surely come. I demand to see Miss Gillespie and her brother,” he added, as his ear caught the sound of stifled sobs in the after cabin.

The count pulled a bell-rope by his hand, and at the summons, the sentry who had admitted him, opened the door and looked in, while from another door, the steward entered and stood obsequiously by his master. The latter, pointing to the door, said,

“Mr. Manuel, take out your prisoner and confine him apart from the rest; sentry, let them pass.”

Talbot hesitated a moment, and then said, “I am unarmed and helpless, and it would therefore be madness to resist you—but, in the name of humanity, I ask you, can you listen unmoved to the distress of the unhappy lady within there; as a man, an officer, and a nobleman, I appeal to you in her behalf. She has recently lost her father, as you know, and, save myself, her young brother is now her only protector.”

“She will be sufficiently protected, sir, without your interference—take out the prisoner, Mr. Manuel.”

The above conversation had taken place in Spanish, which Talbot spoke fluently, but when he found that for some sinister purpose, he was not to be permitted to see Miss Gillespie, he advanced toward the lattice-work and called out in English, “Mary, dear Mary, be upon your guard! Frank, do not leave your sister for a moment; I fear that she is in the hands of a villain.”

“That I will not,” cried the boy, who vainly tried to force the door, while his sister sobbed convulsively.

The count, who, although not understanding the language, comprehended the import of the words, with a gesture of frantic impatience, motioned the officer to lead his prisoner away.

Talbot, satisfied that the danger was lessened by the timely warning he had given, without resistance, submitted to be led from the apartment.

When left alone, the count remained for some time in a thoughtful attitude. “If I could but speak their horrid language,” he said, soliloquizing with himself, “or if she understood mine, I should certainly succeed, for as to this would-be bridegroom, I can easily get rid of him, and of the brother also, if he prove intractable. Let me see! can I trust Gonzalez? From the expression of his eye sometimes, as well as from his never speaking of her, I fear that he knows all about his unhappy sister; and yet I must trust him, or abandon all, for he is the only interpreter we have. There is no help for it; I cannot give up the game so freshly started—but I will be wary and watch him closely.” He slightly touched the bell, “Send Gonzalez to me,” he said to the attendant, who obeyed the summons. A few moments after, a young man of 23 or 24 years of age entered the apartment, and bowing to the count, awaited his commands in silence. From his spare figure, he looked taller than he really was. His hair and moustaches were glossy black, curling in their rich luxuriance. His eye-brows, thick and bushy, formed one continuous arch, and the eye beneath, black and lustrous, was soft and subdued in its ordinary expression, but at times, in a single glance, would convey a startling idea of latent but indomitable energy. His features were almost femininely regular, and his voice musically clear and sweet. The count’s fears were not without foundation; his secretary, for such was the position of Gonzalez, knew his sister’s wrongs, and like a true Spaniard, thirsted for an opportunity to revenge them. His commander scanned him closely where he stood for some minutes, the young man at first returning his gaze with a look neither too humble, nor yet audacious, and then deferentially turned his eyes in another direction.

“What is the matter, Gonzalez? You seem of late unusually taciturn and moody.”

“I think, señor, that my health is suffering from long confinement to the ship. I need recreation on shore.”

“What mean you by long confinement—were you not on shore repeatedly last month in Havana?”

“No, señor! If you will recollect, I applied several times to go, but on each occasion you had important letters or despatches to write.”

“Did you hear from home before we sailed?” and the count’s look became intensely riveted upon him.

The young man slightly colored, “I heard indirectly, señor, that all were well.”

“From whom?”

“From a muleteer who resides in the adjoining village.”

“Did he give you any particulars?”

“None, señor, worth relating.”

The count paused. He was dissatisfied, yet feared that by further questioning he might excite the very suspicions he wished to repress. Assuming a bland and conciliatory tone, he said, “I have been to blame, Gonzalez, and will make amends. When we reach port, you shall have ample opportunities to recruit on shore. Should you need funds, consider my purse at your service.”

“Thanks, señor! my salary is more than sufficient for all my wants.”

“Well, should you be in need, remember my offer; but come nearer, I have now something confidential to impart. You are aware that the lady brought on board last night is now in the after-cabin.”

“I am, señor.”

“One of the prisoners, doubtless an impostor, assumes that she is his betrothed. I wish you to see her and ascertain how she is affected toward him.”

“It is needless, señor. At the invitation of Lieutenant Flores, I accompanied him in his boat last night, and in rescuing the prisoners from the wreck, witnessed how tenderly that lady clung to the man you speak of.”

“It may have been the convulsiveness of fear!”

“If so, señor, it would have subsided with the occasion that gave it birth; but it continued to the last, and while she evinced for the lad the solicitude of an elder sister, she seemed to regard the American as her chosen and sole protector.”

“How were they separated?”

“I understood, señor, by your orders,” replied the youth with an air of surprise.

“I mean,” said the count, somewhat confused, “how did they bear it?”

“He was at first disposed to resist, but a moment after submitted with an air of stern resignation.”

“And she?”

“She at first seemed bewildered, and could not comprehend the purport of the order; when she did so, she implored her lover, for such he must be, not to desert her, but after he had whispered a few words to her, she too submitted, and with such meek gentleness as moved the hardest hearts to sympathy.”

“Sympathy,” exclaimed the count, reddening; “where there is no real distress, there can be no occasion for its exercise. In common humanity, I am bound to protect her from the acts of an impostor.” There was a slight twitch of the secretary’s upper lip, but he said nothing.

“At all events, I wish you to converse with her, Gonzalez. Try if you cannot reconcile her to a short separation from her lover, and assure her that as soon as I am satisfied that he is what he represents himself, he shall be free.”

The secretary bowed in acquiescence, and the count rising, led the way into the after-cabin. It was fit for the boudoir of a queen. A carpet of the richest Persian dyes and softest texture was under foot. Except in front, the whole apartment was lined with fawn-colored tapestries; the windows framed into the after ports had party-colored curtains of fawn and cherry colors. An ottoman and several chairs were covered with embroidered damask corresponding to the tapestry; a small, richly-carved book-case was filled with handsomely bound books. There was a pair of globes upon stands, and a harp, a guitar, mirrors and candelabra, with a few small but exquisite paintings completed the equipment of this cell of a Sybarite.

With disheveled hair, and eyes inflamed with weeping, in all the abandonment of grief, Miss Gillespie lay with her head upon her brother’s breast, who, as the door was opened, threw his arms around, as if more perfectly to protect her. With a courteous air, and all the finished breeding of an artificial gentleman, the count advanced and paid his respects through the medium of the interpreter. “Had she sustained no injury from the accident of the night before? Had she recovered from her alarm? Had she slept well? Could he do any thing for her?”

The three first questions she answered in monosyllables. At the fourth, she made an effort to speak, but maiden bashfulness overcame her, and she looked imploringly to her brother. The youth construed her feelings rightly, and said,

“We wish, sir, to see our friend, Mr. Talbot, who was, with us, a passenger in the schooner.”

“At present it cannot be,” answered the count, “but when we reach Havana, he will doubtless prove his character, and then you can be again united, but,” addressing her, “so much beauty should not be marred by untimely grief. A few days more and your friend will be restored to liberty. Here I cannot make any distinction between him and the other prisoners. Let me therefore entreat you, Miss, to dry up your tears, and let a smile once more wreath itself upon your lovely cheek.”

“Say to him,” asked Miss G., of the interpreter, “that I am in deep affliction. Yesterday I lost my father, and now, when I am most helpless, I am by his act,” (she looked toward the count) “separated from the friend whom that father had chosen as my protector through life. I am therefore in no mood to listen to compliments, which would be ill-timed from any one, most of all from him.”

The count stifled his vexation and said, “I beg pardon for this intrusion. I will await a more seasonable time to express my sympathy and make a proffer of my services;” so saying, he withdrew, desiring Gonzalez to remain and gather the particulars of their history.

An unprincipled man, in his sphere possessing almost unlimited power, he felt himself baffled by an unarmed prisoner and a helpless maid. “Till now,” he said to himself, “I thought Dolores beautiful, but her features want the intellectual grace and harmony of this northern houri. At all hazards, she must be mine. If all else fails, the drug must be resorted to. It is certainly the speediest and I know not but that it is the best; but I am neglecting my first precaution.” He rung the bell for the steward, a dark, swarthy Italian, with the body of a man surmounted on the legs of a dwarf.

“Domingo,” said his master, “go into the secret passage and watch Gonzalez, who is now with the lady. Note every thing that he does, and try to gather the meaning of what he says.”

The steward obeying, disappeared through a panel that opened with a spring.

In about half an hour, Gonzalez came forth from the inner cabin, and stated what he had learned of the prisoners, which, as there was no concealment, is precisely what is known to the reader. When he had retired, at a peculiar signal from the count, the panel noiselessly flew open, and the steward reappeared before his master. His account was any thing but satisfactory, and the count’s brow was darkened with deep mistrust, as he listened to the recital.

About sunset, Miss Gillespie, aroused by some incentive, sent to ask if her brother and herself might be permitted to walk on the upper deck. Assent was most graciously given, and the count himself escorted her. Finding that she would not converse, and that his presence was evidently irksome to her, he smothered his chagrin, and after a few turns, left the orphans to themselves.

It was an hour and a scene fitted to captivate the eye and refresh the soul; and such was its soothing influences, that Miss G. frequently found her mind wandering from the contemplation of the perils which environed her. The night previous, the ship, driven before the blast, was whirled with resistless velocity along a bed of seething foam. Now, the gentle wind borne from the land, wafted fragrance on its wing, and the sea, slightly ruffled, seemed to enjoy the refreshing embrace of its sister element; the ship, too, under a cloud of canvas, snow-white and full distended, pressed majestically on, the spray, like fairy fret-work curling and combing beneath the bow and the rippling wake sparkled in the rays of the setting-sun. The gorgeous western sky was tinged with the hues of crimson and gold; the south was a boundless expanse of blue, the island of St. Domingo, lofty, picturesque and beautiful, bounded the northern and eastern horizon. The land, but little cultivated, seemed fertile in the extreme, and was covered with lofty and umbrageous trees, the tangled and luxuriant undergrowth seeming so interlaced as even at high noon to intercept the light of the sun. The near mountains were covered to their very summits with verdure, not the tawny verdure of a northern clime, but the brilliant green of the tropics, while the loftier mountains wreathed their bald and craggy tops with the clouds that floated in the distance.

The sun had gone down and the moon was up: still Miss Gillespie paced the deck with her brother. It was evident that she had some purpose in view, and by those who watched her, she was observed to cast frequent and furtive glances around. At length a figure that had been stealthily gliding along under the shadow of the bulwarks to leeward, suddenly stepped beside her, and whispered, “Lady, I have endeavored to see him, but failed. Some time tonight I will surely succeed. In the meantime there is but one resource. Take this powder, and when you go below, dissolve it, and take a part yourself, giving the remainder to your brother. If you would be safe, neither of you should sleep a wink to-night. Be careful of what you eat or drink. But, hush! there is a man’s head raised above the rail—he has been observing us. I must away—but do not forget this.” He handed a small folded paper as he spoke, and immediately disappeared.

Miss Gillespie had brought a book on deck with her, and by occasionally seeming to read it, had at first given a pretext for remaining. Into this book she inserted the paper, and soon after turned to leave the deck, when some one brushed rudely against her, and the book fell. The person, who, in her confusion she did not recognize, instantly picked it up, and in seeming eagerness to return it, let it fall a second time. Frightened almost beside herself, Miss G. now snatched it up and hurried below. Unfortunately, the paper was not to be found. So dreadful seemed the fate before her, that with difficulty she restrained herself from shrieking aloud. Frank cheered her all he could, although he had but a faint conception of the danger. They determined to deny themselves food and liquids of every description, hoping thereby to avoid the administration of an opiate. Alas! they knew not the infernal arts of the demon in human shape, who had them in his power.

That evening, as was his wont once a week, the count supped with his officers in the ward-room, and he remained until near midnight; but in the meantime his diabolical agent had not been idle.

About 11 o’clock Frank and his sister were sensible that they were inhaling an aromatic and fragrant vapor. At first they enjoyed it; but it soon occurred to them that they were fast becoming drowsy. With desperate exertions they endeavored to force the doors, or to obtain assistance by their loud and vociferous outcries. The breeze had unfortunately freshened on deck, and there was much tramping and running overhead, so that they were unheard, or if heard, unheeded. One would suppose that this agitation and fear would have proved an antidote to the insidious effects of the drug; but no! gently, imperceptibly, they felt their systems relax; they soon began to wonder at their alarm; a delicious langour enthralled them, and as volume after volume of the scented vapor rolled into the apartment, they surrendered themselves to its influence, and pressed in each other’s arms, were soon wrapped in a profound and insensible sleep.

About an hour before, Talbot, to whom the night previous had been a sleepless one, although racked with anxiety, had fallen into a light and fitful slumber, when he was instantly aroused by a hand being laid upon his chest, and a voice whispering in his ear, “Do not speak, but follow; imitate my motions as exactly as you can. For God’s sake be cautious, you know not how much is at stake.”

The speaker, who was lying beside him on the deck, then rolled over toward the hatchway; but when the sentry turned in his round, he remained perfectly still. This he repeated, slowly and cautiously; Talbot followed his example, until they reached what sailor’s term the combings of the main-hatch, i.e. the elevated pieces around it, to prevent the water from running into the hold. He there waited for some time until he saw the sentry loiter at the furthest end of his round, when he quickly threw himself down the hatch, and crept on one side out of sight. As soon as Talbot had done the same, he led the way among the casks and barrels. When they had proceeded a little distance, he whispered, “The master’s-mate of the hold, who is a fellow-townsman of mine, had this passage opened for me to-day. Had he refused, and he hesitated for a long time, that villain in the cabin would inevitably succeed in his plans.”

“What plans?” eagerly asked Talbot. “I know not who you are, or whither you are leading me—explain.”

“You will soon know me; but let it content you now that I lead you to save your mistress. But that I feared the interference of that ruffian, the steward, I would have gone alone.”

“Lead on, then! lead quickly!” said Talbot, his fears strongly excited.

They resumed their way, groping along in the dark, and taking every step with the greatest caution. In a short while they distinguished the faint light admitted from the deck above through the fore-hatch. As soon as they had gained this opening, Gonzalez, for it was he, taking the opportunity when the sentry was furthest off, and had his back toward him, sprung quickly up, and blowing out the light in a lantern which hung to an upright timber, immediately returned to Talbot’s side. As was anticipated, the sentry, supposing the light to have been extinguished by a flurry of wind, took the lantern down, and proceeded to the main-hatch, to relight the lamp. As he did so, they both, unperceived, succeeded in gaining first the gun and then the upper-deck. Then separating, each one quietly and undetected reached the quarter-deck, and again rejoining each other, they slipped through a port-hole to a narrow platform outside, called the main-chains, and there, in intense anxiety, concerted their future movements, for the most perilous part of their enterprise was yet before them.

——

CHAPTER III.

The convivial party in the ward-room had been broken up by a squall, and with the other sea-officers, the count had repaired to the quarter-deck. For a short time the wind blew with violence, and was succeeded by a heavy fall of rain. In less than an hour there was a perfect calm, and the sails flapped sluggishly against the masts as the ship moved with the undulations of a light ground-swell.

In the cabin, the solitary lamp, suspended from a beam, through the gauze-like vapor shed its soft light upon the rich and costly furniture, and revealed the forms of the sleepers, whose deep breathing alone proclaimed their existence, so immovable was their position—so much deprived did their bodies seem of the watchful guardianship of the spirits within them. The faint and silvery light, the attenuated vapor, the fragrant odors wafted from the flowers in front, the boy, with his noble brow undimmed by sin or sorrow, the lovely maiden, one arm upon her breast, and one clasped around her brother, formed an atmosphere and a group in and around which angels might love to linger. But a serpent had stealthily glided in, and the count, with maddening pulse and gloating eye, looked upon his unconscious victim. Incapable of any feeling but that of a hardened libertine, no thought of the dire ruin he was about to inflict for one instant stayed his purpose. As the spider, after weaving its web, contemplates the struggles of the entangled fly, before clutching to devour it, so he stood, reveling in anticipation on the sensual feast before him. At length he approached, he gently touched, then breathed upon, and called them by their names, and then more rudely shook them. As he anticipated, they neither heard nor heeded him. The stillness was death-like and profound. He removed the boy from the girl's embrace, and she lay resistless at his mercy. For an instant longer he paused; he fondled her hand, he played with her tresses; he stooped to kiss her moist and parted lip.

The fiend-like purpose was frustrated: a crashing blow descended upon his head, and he rolled over and fell senseless on the deck. With one foot upon the prostrate form, and the massive bar again uplifted, Talbot stood over him, while from the doorway Gonzales looked on.

“Hold!” said the last, as Talbot was about to repeat the blow, “Hold! another stroke may finish him, and that is a task reserved for me alone.” He advanced as he spoke, and proceeded to examine the wound. “It is a very severe contusion,” he added a moment after, “and if it had fallen a little more direct, the blow would have been a fatal one. He is now wholly insensible, and unless my skill in surgery fails me, he will remain, for some days at least, in a perfect stupor. It is most fortunate. We need not now attempt an escape, for no one can suspect us, and before he recovers, we shall probably be in Havana. Let us place him in his room and retire; the vile, pandering steward will not dare to enter during the night, and in the morning, I will be hovering near. It is useless, no human efforts can awake them now,” he added, as he saw Talbot endeavoring to arouse the maiden: “but they are safe, and that they may continue so, we must not lose a moment.”

With a sigh, Talbot relinquished the hand of his mistress, which he had clasped within his own, and, pressing his lips to her fair forehead, turned to assist Gonzalez in removing the wounded man. They then effaced all traces of their presence, and retired as they had come, through the window of the quarter-gallery.

The next morning the table in the forward cabin was spread for breakfast; the steward, in passing to and fro, grinned leeringly as from time to time he looked toward the after cabin. One of the midshipmen of the watch came to report 8 o’clock. The steward tapped lightly at the state-room door, but receiving no reply, and not presuming to disturb his master, took it upon himself to report to the officers that the count said “Very well”—the usual reply. By 9 o’clock, he began to be uneasy, not that he apprehended any thing to have happened to his master, but that the lady might awake before the count had left her apartment. At the lattice-work, and to the key-hole of his master’s door, he alternately placed his ear. At the last he thought that he distinguished a deep and smothered breathing; at the first he could hear no sound whatever. Satisfied that his master was in his state-room, he felt more easy.

At 10 o’clock, the wonted hour, the drum beat to quarters for inspection. When the first lieutenant came to make his report, the steward intimated that the count was indisposed.

“Has he directed that he should not be disturbed?” asked the officer.

The steward admitted that he had not.

“Have you been summoned to him in the night?”

“No, sir!”

“Then I must make my report.” He advanced to the door and knocked, at first gently, and then louder and more loudly still. There was no reply; and the officer, turning the bolt, to the surprise of the steward, the door yielded to his push, and flew open. (That their mode of entrance might not be suspected, Gonzalez had unlocked it before retiring.) The count was found with his wrapper on, lying in a profound stupor, the blood clotted thickly over the wound he had received. The orphans were buried in a sleep which the surgeon pronounced unnatural; and the steward was suspected of having drugged them, and afterward attempted the life of his master. This miserable wretch was thrown in irons as the supposed murderer of the man in whose contemplated villainy he had been a willing and a free participant.

Light and baffling winds detained the frigate, and on the evening of the fourth day after the incident above related, she had just cleared the windward passage, and with Cape la Mole astern, was standing along the northern shore of Cuba, for the port of Havana. The count had laid in a comatose state since his accident, and his constant heavy breathing and frequent moans, showed how much pressure there was upon the brain, and how much he suffered. In the course of this day his respiration had become more regular and less oppressive, and about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, he awoke to consciousness and a sense of pain. By degrees his recollection returned, and after making a few inquiries, to the surprise of every one, he ordered the steward to be released, and again summoned in attendance upon him. These two, the master, just rescued from the grave, and the servant who would have found an ignominious one had his master died, conferred for a long time together. After questioning his steward closely, the count said, “I am satisfied, Domingo, that it was not from your hand that I received the blow. I left you in the forward cabin, you could only have entered on the starboard side, and in that direction my head was turned, and I must have seen you. The blow was on the other side—probably from some one secreted there. Were you at any time absent from the cabin, after I went to the ward-room?”

“Not an instant, señor!”

“It is strange! Could he have entered by the quarter-gallery?”

“It must have been so, señor, although I can discover no marks.”

“I suspect Gonzalez,” said the count; “indeed, I am sure that he has been concerned, but then he had not the vigor to deal such a blow. That hateful American must have been the man. I will be deeply revenged!”

Late that afternoon, as Talbot, sitting aloof from the other prisoners, was grieving that Mary’s persecutor had recovered his faculties before the arrival of the ship in port, and from which he feared the most serious consequences, he was accosted by the master’s-mate, who said, in passing, “Courage, my friend, you will soon be at liberty—take a cigar to cheer you.”