L mutineers rushed forward, not to seize on, but to lay down their weapons at the feet of their Captain. "Take up your arms," said Dalton, after casting his eye over them, and perceiving at a single glance that they had truly delivered them all. "Take up your arms: ye were only beguiled; ye are too true to be really treacherous." This most wise compliment operated as oil on the tossing sea: the ship-mob fancied they were acting according to the dictates of reason, when they were really under the influence of fear, and then they aroused the tranquillity of the night, shouting long and loudly for the Fire-fly and the brave Buccaneer! Although the unfortunate Jeromio had cunningly despatched several of Dalton's most approved friends in the long-boat to the shore on some pretended business, yet others had been secured below; and, when they were liberated, they created great and noisy jubilee at what they jestingly called "the Restoration." Springall had orders to distribute among them, and without distinction, abundance of rum, while Dalton retired to his cabin, still unmoved, to pen some despatches, which he deemed necessary to send to the main-land that night. 66 When he returned on deck, the revellers had retired, and the watch was set. Many of the stars that had witnessed the events we have recorded, had sunk, and others had risen in their stead. The midnight air was chill and cold; Jeromio's body lay where it had fallen, stiffening in its gore'; for no one cared to meddle with it till the Skipper's pleasure was known as to how it was to be disposed of. Dalton gazed upon it but for an instant, and then ordered that a man named Muddy, the black, and butcher of the ship, should attend him. Here, Muddy," he exclaimed, "chop me off that rascal's head-quick, do it!" The brute carelessly performed his task. "Now roll the carcase in a sail, and, being well leaded, throw it overboard. Wrap me the head in a clean napkin; I would fain make a present to Sir Willmott Burrell-a wedding present he may think it, if he will. The head to which he trusted, will serve the purpose well. I will not send you, Springall, on this errand," he continued, laying his hand gently on the shoulder of the trembling boy, who sickened at the disgusting sight. "Go to your hammock; you shall not sleep there many nights more. You are too good for such a life as this!" He then directed two of his men to row to land, and leave the parcel at the gate of Cecil Place. He also gave them other packets to deliver, with orders to those of his crew who were still on shore; and then, his ship being under sail for another division of the coast, like a mighty but perturbed spirit, he paced the deck till morning CHAPTER XXII. I am not prone to weeping as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew SHAKSPEARE. It is curious to note how differently persons known to each other, and, it may be, endeared by the ties of relationship, or the still stronger ones of friendship, are occupied at some precise moment, although separated but by a little distance, and for a brief space of time. Life is one great kaleidoscope, where it is difficult to look upon the same picture twice; so varied are its positions, and so numerous its contrasts, according to the will of those who move and govern its machinery. While the hand of the Buccaneer was dyed in blood, his child was sleeping calmly on her pillow;-Sir Robert Cecil pondering over the events of the day, and drawing conclusions as to the future, from which even hope was excluded;-Sir Willmott Burrell exulting in what he deemed the master-stroke of his genius;-and Constance Cecil, the fountain of whose tears was dried up, permitted Lady Frances Cromwell to sit up with her, while she assorted various letters, papers, and other matters, of real or imaginary value, of which she was possessed. Within that chamber one would have thought that Death was the expected bridegroom, so sadly and so solemnly did the bride of the morrow move and speak. She had ceased to discourse of the approaching change, and conversed with her friend only at intervals, upon topics of a trifling nature; but in such a tone, and with such a manner, as betrayed the aching heart; seldom waiting for, or hearing a reply, and sighing heavily, as every sentence obtained utterance. Her companion fell into her mood, with a kindness and gentleness hardly to be expected from one so light and mirthful. "I am sure," she observed, "I have deeper cause for grief than you, Constantia; my father is so obstinate about Mr. Rich. He treats his family as he does the acts of his Parliament, and tries to make use of both for the good of the country." Constantia smiled a smile of bitterness; Lady Frances little knew the arrow, the poisoned arrow that rankled in her bosom. 66 Oh, I see you are preserving Mrs. Hutchinson's letters. How my sister Claypole esteems that woman! Do you think she really loves her husband as much as she says?" "I am sure of it," was Constantia's reply," because he is worthy of such love. I received one letter from her, lately; she knew that I was to be-to change my name-and kindly (for the virtuous are always kind) wrote to me on the subject; read over these passages." Lady Frances was about to read them aloud, but Constantia prevented her. "I have read it over and over, dearest, though wherefore I hardly know; my lot is cast in a way so different from that she imagines. The precepts are for the promotion of happiness, which I can never expect to enjoy-never to be cited as an example of connubial excellence. I shall leave no record that people in after years will point at, and say, Behold, how lovingly they lived together! But read it, Frances, read it: to you it may prove salutary, for you will be happy in your union, and with one whom you can love." The Lady Frances took the letter with a trembling hand, and read as follows: "Richmond, 1657, the 2d day of June. "Your letter, which I had the happiness to receive some time since, my dear young friend, notwithstanding its melancholy theme, afforded me real satisfaction. It it true that your loving mother has been removed; but blessed is the knowledge which instructs you that she and all her excellencies came from God, and have now but been taken back to their own most perfect source; that you are parted for a moment to meet again for eternity! Her soul conversed so much with God while it was here, that it rejoices to be now freed from interruption in that hallowed exercise. Her virtues were recorded in Heaven's annals, and can never perish by them she yet teaches us, and all those to whose knowledge they shall arrive. 'Tis only her fetters that have been removed; her infirmities, her sorrows that are dead never to revive again,-nor would we have them; we may mourn for ourselves that we walk so tardily in her steps, that we need her guidance and assistance on the way. And yet, dearest Constance, but that the veil of tearful mortality is before our eyes, we should see her, even in Heaven, holding forth the bright lamp of virtuous example and pre cept, to light us through the dark world we must for a few years tread. “But I have heard tidings lately, and from the Lady Claypole too, of which, methinks, to your mother's friend, you have been over chary. Ah! maidens care not to prate of their love affairs to matrons. Silly things! they would go their own course, and think for themselves! without knowing how to go, or what to think! The besetting sin of youth is-presumption: but it is not your sin, my gentle girl; it was some species of modesty withheld your pen—yet I heard it. My husband, albeit not a very frequent guest at Whitehall, pays his respects there sometimes, mainly out of his duty and regard to the Lady Claypole; for he is no scorner of our sex, and holds it a privilege to converse with wise and holy women. She informed him, and not as a matter of secrecy, that you would soon be wedded to Sir Willmott Burrell; and, although we know him not, we readily believe that he is a good and honest gentleman, commanding our esteem, because beloved of you the which, I pray you, advise him of and say we hope he will number us among his friends. I never doubted your wisdom, Constantia, and those cannot wed well who do not wed wisely. By wisely, I do not mean that longing after foolish gain and worldly aggrandizement, which vain women, alas! covet more than the enjoyment of their lives and the salvation of their souls. I would have a woman seek for her husband, one whom she can love with an ardent, but not idolatrous passion; capable of being a firm, consistent friend; who has sufficient knowledge and virtue to sit in council within her bosom, and direct her in all things. Having found such, the wife should desire and strive to be as a very faithful mirror, reflecting truly, however dimly, his own virtues. I have been long wedded, and, thank God, most happily so. We have become as a proverb among our friends; and matrons, when they bless their daughters at the altar, wish them to be as happy as Lucy Hutchinson. Had your blessed mother lived, my advice might have been almost impertinent; but now, I am sure you will not take it ill of a most true friend to speak a little counsel: my words may be but as dew-drops, yet there is a spirit within you that can convert them into pearls. But counsel ought to be preceded by prayer-and I have prayed-Will you take ill the supplication? I know you will not. "I am also sure that you will not consider unacceptable the prayer I am about to transcribe in this my letter. It was written by my dear husband, some time after the exceeding goodness of God made us one; and we feel much comfort and encouragement in repeating it each morn and eve, ere the cares and turmoils of the day are come, or when they have departed. May it have a like influence on you, my sweet friend! May your destiny be as mine! "O Lord, divine uniter of true hearts! Grant to thy servants an increase of the blessed gift of grace, which is wrought into the soul by thy regenerating Spirit, that so the whole creature may be resigned unto thy will, human love be subservient to that which is heavenly, and all its thoughts, hopes, and actions be directed to thy glory, with whom is its source, and from whom its blessing cometh. Two pray unto thee as one, one in heart, one in interest, one for time, one for eternity. So may it ever be, O Lord' our Maker and our guide, our protector and our friend. We bless and thank thee for the comfort we have found in each other, for the worldly prosperity to which virtue, trustfulness, and faith in thy care have conducted us; for the mutual esteem, confidence, and affection that sway and direct our frail natures, but, above all, for the sure and certain knowledge that when our mortal shall have put on immortality, we shall be ONE-undivided, inseparable, and eternal." "'Tis brief, Constantia, but long supplications too often lose in spirit that which the heart cannot make up in words. Prayer should be the concentrated essence of humility, perfumed by Hope, and elevated by Faith; but you know all this as well as I. I would not presume to instruct, or give you advice upon any point, save this most blessed or most miserable one, (to a mind like yours it can have no medium,)— marriage! Many young females are beguiled by evil counsel and thus commence in a careless or obstinate course, which leads them into the thorny path of discontent, and consequent wretchedness. And, first of all, do not fancy that petty tyrannies become a bride. It is the habit of the bridegroom to yield to such like; but trust me, he loves you not the better for weak fantasies, unless he be a fool; and I pen no lines for fools, or fools' mates. I have no sympathy with a woman, weak or wicked enough to wed a fool. In the honeymoon, then, study your husband's temper; for the best of men, and woman too-carry (it may be unconsciously) a mask during the days of courtship, which, if not taken off, wears off and you must strive to know him as he really is; remembering that though lovers may be angels, husbands are only mortals. Looking within at the imperfection of our own nature, we learn to make allowance for the faults they may possess. For my own part, my only wonder has been how a man, like Colonel Hutchinson, could so kindly pity my infirmities, and correct them after such a fashion that his blame has ever sounded sweeter in my ears than the praise of the whole world besides. He has looked upon my errors with an indulgent eye, and not suffered them to detract from his esteem and love for me, while it has been his tender care to |