the terrified Jane; "rather endeavour to argue the matter with the more sober of the party-if, indeed, they have not all lost their senses," she added, as a second clatter of breaking glasses and falling chairs was overpowered by vociferated shouts of jovial merriment.

"I cannot longer endure this!" exclaimed Clinton, advancing to the mariner; "Stand away from the door!"

The fellow discharged from his mouth the tobaccoimpregnated saliva, then responded, without moving an inch-"You be!"

In the twinkling of an eye Clinton had sprung on him and hurled him along the passage.

But this act did not effect the object intended, for as Jane was retreating with all the hurry of fear, she was caught back by another Pirate, a Pole, near seven feet in height, exhibiting enormously long and bushy whiskers and mustachios, of an uncertain colour bordering upon red he had come from the great hall staircase, and, like the discomfited mariner, was in an intoxicated condition.

"Ah, what, a lady here!" cried he in bad French, "I must have a look at you!".

66

"Let go my hand, sir!" she cried in excessive alarm. Nay, my dear, you must not go-I must have a sight of your face," and he leered with disgusting familiarity, that was deservedly checked by a stunning blow from the irritated Clinton, who would immediately have passed her through the contested doorway, out of reach of the drunken reprobates, had not a third individual, who had followed close on the heels of the Pole, presented himself in the way. It was Gilpin, whose

reckless courage had made him famous among his outlawed brethren.

"Ha! ha! ha! Mr. Scrynecki! how did you relish that?" he cried. "'Twas as neat a lick as ever I saw

out of New York State."

"Master Gilpin," cried the Pole, now adopting the English tongue, which he spoke even worse than French, while he rubbed his forehead with one hand, and smoothed his long mustachios with the other, “thish ish te firsht time in my life tat I hath be struck, and, par Dieu! it shall be te lasht! I shall kill him dead tat inshult me, par Got!"

"Who says Scrynecki is a coward and will bear any thing from any man?" laughed Gilpin. "Hark to the hero's big words! Hurrah for the Polander! But stop young lady a moment, I must have a peep at your pretty face as well as Scrynecki. Why! is it Miss Anderson? I ask your pardon! Jack Gilpin will never be the man to affront you! He hasn't forgotten your sewing up the bandages of his shattered arm after the fight with the d―― law bullies on board ship."

The Pole, notwithstanding his big words, had made no attempt to return the blow he had received; he was indeed the coward of his band.

The mariner, more dangerously vindictive, had quickly managed to rise from the floor on which Clinton had thrown him, and with that mad malignity which too much ardent drink is apt to excite in some men, had planted himself again in front of the door, having a large pocket knife unclasped in his hand, at the sight of which Jane trembled and covered her eyes.

Clinton threw his arm around her waist, and, entreat

ing her not to be afraid, stood an instant collecting himself, and restraining his passion, that he might judge what was best to be done. He was unarmed, and prudence told him that in a struggle with a numerous and armed band of ruffians, he could have small chance of success; but the fire of his impetuous blood would not have suffered him to listen to this argument, had not his sister been there-for her sake he restrained himself. While he paused indeterminately, Gilpin confronted the mariner.

"Come, stand on one side," said he.

"Call me a fool if I do then," was the reply.

"Now, I tell you what, Billy," said Gilpin, "I don't want to have any quarrel with you, only stand quietly on one side; but if you won't, mind you, why, as sure as I first saw daylight in New York State, I'll make you! You know Jack Gilpin is no Polander— what he says is as much gospel as if the president said it-you know that Billy, don't you?"

"Hah! Master Gilpin! par Got!" were the fierce exclamations of the Pole, his formidable whiskers and mustachios bristling up so as to become still more formidable. "What you mean tat you no Polander, ha? Let me say you tat te Polanders as you name tem, be te bravest men in all te warld!"

"Then take my word for it you are not one of them," said Gilpin, scoffingly; "all the bravery you have you might sell for five farthings, and the buyer would be taken in."

"Master-master Gilpin, saire," articulated the exasperated Mr. Scrynecki with difficulty, being overpowered with passion, "I wash at te battaile of Warsaw-te

great battaile, saire!-I was tere when it conquer te Russ!"

"So was many a calf, I dare say, and made as great a noise as you," sneered Gilpin. "But come, Billy, move off, and let Miss Anderson pass out. You wont, wont you? What d'ye say to that then?" and he suddenly pulled a pistol from his belt, and held it to the mariner's temples. "Give me the knife-that's it. Now move nearer this way-nearer-Miss Anderson the door is free to you."

The mariner muttered a fierce oath of genuine British origin, and, excited to so imprudent an action by the fumes of the liquor he had drank, raised his arm and attempted to dash back the pistol from its alarming contiguity to his head; in doing which it went off, and all its deadly contents lodged themselves in his brain. He leaped half a yard from the ground, and fell on his face on the floor. One dismal cry broke from his lips-he rolled over on his back-partly rose as he grappled with the king of terrors-sank again-stretched himself convulsively, and ceased to breathe.

Horror was depicted on the countenances of the startled persons standing by. Jane, pallid and faint, rushed into the open air. Clinton stood paralysed. The Pole stooped over the body, and with the poor wretch's jacket corner tried to stanch the blood which issued from the wound; while Gilpin, with the pistol still in his hand, seemed like Clinton transfixed with dismay and surprise.

The noise of the pistol shot had penetrated into the scene of conviviality in the chief salon of the mansion, where all the band of unwelcome intruders were assem

bled, excepting only three, who had been prowling through the other parts of the house in search of portable articles of value which they might purloin; these three were the Pole, the mariner, and Gilpin.

The scene in the salon was strange indeed, and in no small degree ludicrous. Upwards of forty Pirates were seated on delicate Grecian couches, fauteuils, and damasked chairs, at rosewood tables furnished with food of the most heterogenous description.

One was regaling himself on luscious hothouse fruits; one on delicate confectionary, of which whole dishes. were vanishing with incredible rapidity; another on bread and cheese, with which he was drinking fine Spanish wine; a fourth on a cold turkey; and a fifth was luxuriating among a set of jars filled with delicious preserves, jellies, and creams.

"These sort of seats are d-n fine inventions, arn't they?" cried one to his companions, as he threw up his dirty feet on the downy cushions of a silken couch.

"Very-and so is the vittels,". was the dry response of a sturdy square-built dwarf, who reposed his halfclad limbs on a similar piece of furniture, while he emptied by a succession of draughts a bottle of claret he held in his hand.

All the party seemed to enjoy the novelty of the situation with the relish of overgrown children. The servants of the house had been compelled to bring hither for them the choicest contents of the larders and the wine-cellars. Nay, they must have the best table utensils, too, that the mansion would afford; cupboards of plate and china had been broken open, and articles, curious and rich, brought out to view that had not seen