forth and directing the steps of a spirit of young joy.

And though the person of young Astell appeared so perfect, the holy and the unremitting instructions of his mother had made his mind still more admirable: it was, indeed, overflowing with all high aspirations and goodwill to all men. He had learned of his mother to love the right in all things for its intrinsic beauty. The frivolous might have thought him too composed for a youth not yet sixteen, but his sweet laugh of joy, though never loud, was almost ecstacy to behold; and, at the relation of any noble deed, you would behold his colour mount high, even unto his temples, and his eyes flash as if they beheld something beyond this world. But, with all this outward placidity, he possessed a fixity of purpose and an intensity of resolve which, though never called into action but on great occasions, nothing could overcome. He was a youth of many affections, and of but one enmity; and

that was a deadly one-hatred of oppression. When he, the guardian angel of Rebecca, was near, she was entirely changed. She then became docile, obedient, and gentle. Instead of destroying the flowers in the parterres, she tended them as affectionately as if they possessed the attribute of gratitude. She caressed her aunt Matilda's birds instead of teasing them, learned any lessons that Mr. Underdown would give her, and kept her dresses scrupulously clean. We will not say that her cousin had changed her nature; he had only torn away the weeds and brambles that had been allowed to grow over and conceal this rich and fair flower of the creation-a flower that even then he intended to cherish in his bosom through life.

All these pleasant prospects were soon to fade away, and to be remembered only as a single passing sunbeam that has struggled through a storm and disappeared. It was in the gusty and memorable November of the last year of the last century that the squadron commanded

by Sir Octavius was driven by stress of weather, and the absolute necessity of refitting, into Portsmouth, or rather the anchorage of Spithead. Being for the last five years on the Channel service, the Commodore had often found and employed the opportunity of coming up to Trestletree-hall, and refreshing his heart by the rapid improvement of his daughter, and in the conversation of his beloved sister, Lady Astell, and her son, who were almost inmates of his establishment. On this fatal November he came to his house, and found, as usual, all whom he most loved on earth assembled to welcome him. Yet the stern old man had the cruelty to break up that circle of affection. For three days he was unusually kind, which he always showed by abstaining either from chewing tobacco, smoking, or swearing above a whisper. He was quiet, too, beyond his wont; and took much considerate notice of his nephew.

On the evening of the third day, the decanters were glittering in the strong firelight, and the

family party had closed with the intense feel of comfort round the blazing hearth. The Commodore had already received the full measure of his mutilations, as we described him in the opening of his history. With the unwounded right arm he had clasped his daughter to his side, and after two or three affectionate hugs, he looked round the happy circle with his only eye, and soon espying the object of his search, Augustus, who was sitting near his mother, he caught him by the hook, that served him for a hand, by the collar, and jerked him to his other side. He then looked kindly on either hand; and at length gave vent to his feelings by exclaiming, "A handsome group, sister Astell, by Jove! What a fine figure-head we should make for the Victory."

"Yes," said Lady Astell, "the centre figure is certainly striking."

"Right, sister, right. I've been striking all my life, and to some purpose; but never struck yet, and never will while there's a cartridge in

the magazine. Well, Gus, how do you and your little wife get on? All plain sailing, aye! I declare she is growing quite a court lady; she lets her father's pigtail wag in peace. A year ago I was obliged to keep a sharp look out upon the back handle of my head, or I should have had the cat or something else spliced to it before you could turn the hands up reef topsails. Much improved, eh? Oh, you dear little hussey!" and then he very lovingly currycombed her cheek with his rough beard, till he had nearly destroyed the delicate texture of her skin.

When this little ebullition of parental fondness had subsided, the exhibition of which had been materially shortened by the young lady tugging with all her might at the tail she bad so often persecuted, the Commodore turned round to bestow a portion of his rough tenderness upon his nephew.

“Why, Gus,” said he, shooting him through with his one eye, and hitching him up more