THE STORY.

        The "season" at NAG'S HEAD, in the summer of 184--, was a gay one. The spring and summer had been unhealthy, and, early in July, family after family packed up the necessary household conveniences, got on board

the little packets, and were speedily domiciled at their respective homes on the sea-side. The hotel was thronged. Scores of children and youth, whole regiments of young ladies and young gentlemen came thronging on, until the worthy innkeeper stood aghast. However, by dint of close stowage, and other expedients not necessary herein to be set forth, all had a place whereon to lay their heads. As a matter of course, among such a throng, there was no lack of amusements. The mornings were spent at the bowling-alley, in fishing, or fox-hunting. The dinner and the siesta occupied the afternoon; and tea and the toilet occupied the time until a venerable negro, after a few preliminary turns of the screws, gave forth the startling, thrilling, life-awakening notes of his favorite violin. Presto! change!

        In came the dancers, the sets were made up, and, with a tone such as new-created sheriffs shout "O yes!" "O yes!" at the sessions of the most worshipful the Court of Common Pleas, the sable musician exclaimed BALANCE ALL! and the evening's amusements were begun. And then not very brightly did the pendent lanterns shine

                         " -- o'er fair women and brave men.
                         A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
                         Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
                         Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again,
                         And all went merry as a marriage bell."

        Among the sojourners at the hotel was a young man of gentleman-like appearance, whose little interest in the gayeties of the place attracted general attention. True, he would now and then enter the saloon to look at the dancers, especially on those evenings when the hall was at the disposal of the children, though he never

danced himself. Grave as he was, and he was so even to melancholy, when you could win a smile from him there was never a sweeter one. Occasionally he would chat with one of the very few acquaintances he seemed to have made, and such was his power of thought and felicity of expression that it is no exaggeration to say that

                         "The list'ner held his breath to hear."

He had a fine voice, too; and it was more perilous than he seemed to suspect for some of the fair dancers to observe its musical cadence.

        It was observed that he was much addicted to long and solitary walks; and a young man who had the curiosity to follow him, discovered that he usually went to the vine-covered oak of which I have spoken. A friend with whom he became more intimate than with any one else, informs me that he gave the following account of his melancholy moods, and his seclusion from the gayeties of life.

        I am an orphan. I was adopted, when a mere lad, by Dr. --, of Washington City. He is one of the best of men, as you know that he is one of the best of physicians. I could not possibly have loved a father more than I ever loved him. God forgive me for ever leaving him! He lives there still. You may see him any day on Pennsylvania Avenue--that noblest of all American avenues--riding or walking along at a brisk pace, with a kindly smile on his face, and a nod for everybody. He is universally beloved, for he is ever kind, and noble, and generous. He makes no parade of his charities; he is not

                         "One of your ten and twenty pound subscribers,
                         Your benefactors in the newspapers,"

Who keep

                         "A running charity account with Heaven;"

but many a poor heart has been gladdened by his unostentatious benevolence. God bless the good old man! All my recollections of him are happy. They have been--they shall be--my salvation. I have been a prodigal. I have fed upon the beggarly husks of "the far country."

        Dr. -- is, of all the physicians I have ever known, the most studious and indefatigable. When retained in a case--to use a legal phrase--he is untiring in his researches in the books, in his personal attentions, in the study of the particular symptoms of the disease, the temperament, habits, and condition in life of the patient. Perhaps no living physician was ever so successful in his combination of simples to meet peculiar symptoms. And yet, absorbed as he invariably was in some one or more of the many cases which came thronging upon him, he never lost sight of the claims of society and the domestic circle. No child more simple; and he was never more happy than when surrounded by children. There was no air of bustle, of importance, of dignity; there was no fuss; there was no formidable barrier of cautious reserve to break through. The light of his genial smile converted everything into some likeness to its own benignity; just as the sun makes the darkest substances even give back as well as enjoy his rays.

        What wonder that I loved him! What wonder that I hung upon his footsteps as if I were his shadow, and followed him into every street, and lane, and alley of

the city! Trust me, there are few pages that so initiate the tyro into the Eleusinia of life as those which a medical practice opens to him in the heart of a great city. And with him! You could not see him thus engaged in his labors without feeling a desire to do better, to be better; and love and reverence for him went ever hand in hand.

        It was my delight to nestle in a huge leather-backed arm-chair in his office, and to watch him while he was investigating a case. Sometimes I lounged upon the sofa, and very generally fell asleep on it at a late hour of the night, leaving him still absorbed in his books.

        One of these evenings I can never forget. It was, I well remember, during the harvest moon, well nigh a year ago. Never have I seen a finer evening. There was not a cloud in all the heavens. The moon was at the full, and the stars shone with more than their wonted brilliancy; glittering, gorgeous--one mighty SEA of light and beauty. I could hear from the avenue--for the office was on the street--the hum of voices, and the pattering and shuffling of many feet; and I caught now and then a strain of delicious music from the windows of Carusi's.

        Small attractions these for the doctor, though he was one of the devoutest of Nature's worshipers. He had apparently a new case, for I saw him take down book after book, and some of the oldest and mustiest, as if he had met with some phase of disease of a very unusual character.

        "Um!" he would exclaim occasionally. "Yes, that looks a little like it!"

        And then he would lean his head upon his hand, as if buried in thought, and muttering

        "No! no! that won't do!"

        He would take down another book.

        "Fred, my boy, you'd better go to bed. I shan't be ready to retire for a long while yet."

        And, without looking to see whether I went or not, he resumed his labor. My curiosity was now aroused, and I resolved to keep awake and observe him. The hours wore slowly away, and midnight came. He started suddenly as the clock struck. The watchman was passing.

        "T-w-e-l-v-e o'clock, an' all's well!"' drawled that drowsy functionary.

        "No, my good man, all's not well!" and he pulled the bell furiously. Black SCIP made his appearance.

        "Scip."

        "Sah."

        "You know where Mrs. A -- lives, on -- street?"

        "Yes, massa."

        "Well, go round there and see how Miss Mary is, and tell the nurse I'll be there in an hour."

        "Yes, massa."

        The old doctor now closed his books, and leaned his head thoughtfully upon his hand, remaining so long in perfect silence that I began to think he must be asleep. All at once, however, he started; lifted his glasses over his lofty forehead, paused a moment, and then sprang up from his chair.

        "By the Olympian Jove!" exclaimed he, in a low, but exulting tone, "I have it. Eureka! She shall live. I shall SAVE her!" And, with a school-boy spring of irrepressible joy, he upset a pyramid of books, with the chair and the inkstand, seized his cane, and hurried out of the office. He had got into the street, bareheaded, when old Scip, who had just returned, reminded

him that he had forgotten his hat. He returned, and when he again left the office, I gave a wink to old Scip, and followed him. He strode furiously on along the avenue--and "the avenue" in Washington, you know, means Pennsylvania Avenue--as far as -- street. There, at the corner, he came full tilt in contact with a plethoric watchman, who was about to consign him to "everlasting redemption" and the watch-house, when the doctor gave his name. A few doors farther, and he sprang lightly up the marble steps of a noble dwelling. I followed him. Before going to the chamber, he stopped a moment in the hall, and sent the servant, who met him at the door, with a message to the nurse. While the negro was gone, I slipped in unperceived; and when the doctor ascended the stairs, I contrived to follow him without attracting the notice of the servant. Fortunately for me, he left the door of the sick room ajar. He approached the bed-side with his usual quiet, noiseless step, and taking a small, fair, attenuated hand in his own, applied his finger to the wrist.

        "So, Molly, getting better, eh? Keep up good courage, my dear. We'll have you at Carusi's in a week!"

        There, reposing upon an embankment of pillows, lay a fair girl. She could not have been more than seventeen at most. Her hair had escaped from restraint and lay in masses upon the pillow, throwing the pale, beautiful face into full relief. The nurse stood near with clasped hands, watching the doctor's eye as if to divine the fate of the patient. And then, as if she knew not what else to do, she would re-arrange the vials and cups upon the stand, with a care-worn, weary expression that made my heart bleed for her.

        "There, Molly," said the doctor, "there's a prescription

I've put up myself; something unusual for me: but I wouldn't trust anybody else to put it up for you. There--not a word now!" seeing her about to speak. "Good night, my dear Molly! you'll be better to-morrow, my word for it. God bless you!" And, bending over her, he kissed her pale forehead. I made a precipitate retreat, and got home in time to be snugly in bed when he came.

        She was saved! You are aware how intimate becomes the relation between the medical adviser and the family whom his skill has laid under such obligations. The intimacy extended to my mother and sisters, and I need scarcely tell you the result. Mary A -- became the centre of every hope, and thought, and purpose; and I was not long in making the fact known to her. Nor were her parents slow to make a similar discovery, though I had been pluming myself on my skill in preserving the secret from all the world.

        Mr. A -- called me into his library one day, and very quietly said to me that he had for some time been aware of my feelings towards his daughter.

        "The d--l you have!" exclaimed I, utterly thrown off my guard. The expression offended him; and he continued, in a more haughty tone--

        "You are aware, sir, that you are too young to think of marriage, even were you in professional life, in prosperous business, in the way of political preferment, or in such pecuniary circumstances as would justify your taking that very important, I may say the most important, step in life. Be assured, however," said he, perceiving how terribly the blow fell upon me, "that I am disposed to be your friend, and to aid you in any way which you will point out."

        Fool that I was, I answered him tartly, was bowed with icy courtesy out of the room, and rushed into the street in a state little better than sheer madness. Until the gray of the morning did I pace my little chamber, in a paroxysm of passion. I threw myself exhausted upon my bed, and slept until noon. To the inquiries of my father if I were sick, and what ailed me, I made some blundering reply that failed to satisfy him. He left me, however; and I employed the afternoon in writing a score of notes to Mary, and burning as many. I dressed with unusual care, and as the clock struck eight, I left my chamber and directed my steps to -- street.

        "Is Mary at home?" said I to the porter.

        "No, massa; Miss Ma'y ben guoin away."

        "Where?"

        "Don't know, massa. She ben guoin airly dis mornin'; way down Virginny somewhere. Guoin to school, I b'lieve."

        Semel insanavimus omnes; and I am no exception to the rule. I went stealthily to my chamber, took what little money I had, packed some of my best clothes, and books, and other articles, and, going to an old Shylock of a pawnbroker (whom may the gods reward!) sold them all to him for the paltry sum of ten dollars! Of this beggarly sum even, he managed to rob me partially by giving me English sovereigns instead of half-eagles. But I was not to be turned from my purpose by trifles. I went to a slop-shop, bought me a fustian jacket, trowsers of the same, and a tarpaulin; and as the day broke next morning, I stole out quietly, and took the road for Baltimore. In the cars I should have been recognized.

and I therefore resolved to go on foot. It was a cool, bracing morning, and my step was springy and buoyant as I strode onward in a fever of excitement. I heard the bell of old McL--'s academy, which always rang at daybreak; and its tones, with the associations it roused, brought the hot tears to my eyes.

        But I was soon absorbed by new thoughts and impressions. I was free. From a child I had always been impatient of restraint. To kindness I was as sunshine; to anything else I was an untamable as the hyena. No wonder, then, that I bounded on; that I ran, and leaped, instead of walked along; and that I actually shouted aloud "I'm free! I'M FREE!" I trudged stoutly on, looking enviously in upon the happy cabins and farm-houses, and amusing myself by the Aladdin-like construction of palaces, which all my subsequent experience has been pulling down.

        I began to be weary. The sun poured down his scorching rays upon me, and as I began the last four leagues of my day's journey, it seemed to me that I must sink down exhausted by the wayside. My thoughts turned homeward. Why had I left them all? the good old doctor, my more than mother, and my adopted sisters? Why had I not gone after Mary, traced her from town to town, and won her in spite of them all? I looked down upon my fustian attire; I pulled off my tarpaulin; I looked down upon my dust-covered shoes, within which my feet were aching in every joint, and, in spite of all the stoicism I had resolved upon, I wept long and bitterly. I had but a few dollars. What should I do? Work there was, enough of it; but how was I to get it with my girlish frame and hands?

        But I was too proud to turn back. The die was cast. I had staked all upon it. I would do wonders, I thought. I would come back rich, if not famous, and then Mary should be mine. God bless her! She knew that I loved her. I knew that I was not less dear to her. They had torn her away, and, in the bitterness of that hour's unutterable misery, I cursed them for their ruthless cruelty.

        At last I reached Baltimore. It was just at night-fall. Little thinking of the change in my appearance, I went to one of the best hotels, as I had been accustomed to do, and was recalled to a very vivid sense of my condition by the scarcely disguised look of surprise, and the meaning smile of the clerk as I asked if I could be accommodated there for the night.

        "We are full to-night!" said he, after a moment's conference with another person. I turned on my heel and sought humbler quarters. I slept at the -- Inn, in the upper part of the city. There was a motley set, I remember, in the bar-room; but the greater part were teamsters, who had come from the western counties with their huge wagons laden with tons of the produce of their farms.

        As you may readily imagine, I was not long in finding my way to my chamber. It was small, comfortless, dirty. Now that I had halted, I felt, far more than when I was walking, the overpowering sensation of extreme fatigue. My feet were sore and swollen, and my limbs ached so that I could not sleep. I fell at last into a most profound slumber. When I awoke, it was day. A drizzling rain was falling, and everything around looked chilly, gloomy, and cheerless. I was speedily dressed, and having paid my bill, I recommenced

my journey. It occurred to me, however, that the highway, as soon as I had got beyond the curbstones, would be wet and muddy; and, as I had but little money, I resolved to go to the wharves, and procure a passage to New York by water. I was sauntering along and looking at the vessels, when a voice quite near me accosted me, in gruff sailor tones, with

        "Hello, shipmate! I say! Don't you want to go a-fishin'?"

        "Go a-fishing?" echoed I, in some surprise.

        "Yes, go a-fishin'. The skipper 'll give you twenty dollars a month. We're goin' to the head of the bay to fish for herrin'. If you say you'll go, it's a bargain."

        "Well, I'll go."

        "You will?"

        "I will."

        And, throwing aside my fustian jacket, I aided him in his work. He was discharging a little schooner, of some fifty tons, of a load of wood. This we soon accomplished; and I was not sorry to finish the work, as my hands were dreadfully torn by the splinters. There were a few lighter jobs during the day. The stores were got on board, and at daybreak the next morning we got under way. Another schooner, about the size of our own, got under way a few minutes later, and came bounding along in our wake. I shall never forget her skipper; a fine, manly-looking, sailor-like young man--for, as his vessel passed us, he very cooly lifted his tarpaulin, and said, with a good-humored smile,

        "Good by! I'll report you!"

        Burly John Oldham, the same man who accosted me on the wharf, was at the helm of our vessel. He took

an enormous quid of tobacco, fussed, fidgeted, exhausted the Palinurian tactics; but in vain! Our neighbor left us. It came on to blow; and, as the wind was from the northward, it grew bitterly cold. As we could not lay our course, we were obliged, of course, to beat. The water flew all over her decks, and, shivering with cold, I crawled below. Old John Oldham, his face as red as England's flag, maintained his position, his gravity, and his reputation at the helm. Occasionally, he would give his quid a fierce thrust from one cheek to the other as some curling breaker sent the spray into his face, and gave the tiller a sudden jerk that well nigh upset him. Never a word said he, meantime, though the wind was increasing to almost a storm; but his compressed lip and glistening eye said, as plainly as words could have expressed it,

        "O! it aint no use, old barky! I've seen salt water outside o' the capes, and I aint agoin' to be flustered by a little spirt of a nor'wester in this ere little mill-pond. The bloody old Chesapeake 's gittin' sort o' riled to-day!"

        Once, I remember, when we were going in stays, the schooner wouldn't come into the wind. We wore, and in doing so the fore-gaff was nearly carried away. What with the swearing and shouting, and the clatter of ropes and sails, I had made up my mind to be ship-wrecked. The wind abated, however, and having repaired damages, we stood on, and reached our destination at nightfall. At daybreak the next morning we again got under way, and soon reached the fishing-beach. The seine seemed to me at least a mile long. I was placed at the windlass, and right lustily did I work, until noon, among the brawny fishermen. I sank

utterly exhausted upon the ground and fell into a profound sleep. From this I was very speedily awakened, and not in the gentlest way in the world, by the summons to dinner. This was of fat pork, fried herrings, and bread. Utterly unable to work, I begged Mr. B--, my employer, to release me. After some efforts to persuade me to stay, he consented, and I took passage that very evening for the head of the Bay. A short walk the next morning brought me to the railroad; and, following it to the next station, I seated myself in the cars.

        It was sunset when we reached Philadelphia. I went to a less frequented hotel than the one I first entered in Baltimore; but from that, even, the reception I met with was none of the most cordial; and I remember thinking, as I walked to the lower part of the city, that a fustian suit and a tarpaulin, though well enough under some circumstances, were not the best possible recommendations at a fashionable hotel. I entered a plain, old-looking tavern not far from the wharves. There were half a score of shabby-looking loungers gathered round a coal-fire, in a dilapidated grate, which sent forth one of the most villainous of odors--

                         "A very ancient and a fish-like smell,"

of which I would be very sorry to have Pictou or Pennsylvania own the paternity.

        The landlady, an Irishwoman, fastened her large eloquent eyes upon me as I entered, and looked closely, though gently and kindly into mine, as I asked if I could lodge there for the night.

        "Ye can do that same," was the reply. "Bring a chair, Pat, ye thaif o' the world! don't ye see the lad's

fatigued intirely? Ye'll be the better for a thrifle to ate, I'm thinkin," added she, addressing me.

        I had determined to go without supper, for my money had dwindled away to a single shilling.

        "No, I thank you, madam," said I; "I am very tired, and would like to go to bed."

        "Och! bother! niver expect me to listen till that! Ye're hungry, lad, forby bein' tired; and it's not far ye'll be from bein' sick this blessed minnit. Ate something, man; its free till ye; an' to bed ye'll not go without supper in the house o' Margaret McGuire!"

        With a silent invocation of Heaven's best blessings on the warm-hearted hostess, I seated myself at the table; she, meanwhile, continued to talk as I made my simple repast.

        "It's not in the like o' this you're used to ate, I'm thinkin," said she; and, without appearing to notice my embarrassment, she added,

        "I've a lad o' my own, as old as yersel' maybe. He's gone to say. Ochone! bad luck till the day he wint! He's wid strangers, maybe, like you; and I wouldn't slape av I thought any one in a furrin counthry 'ud let him go till his bed without atin' a mouthful of parathies, or a dish of bread and milk, av there was no better to be had."

        I strolled out after supper, and whiled away a half hour in looking into the shops. As I turned away to go to the hotel (if I may so dignify it), I bethought me of a gentleman whose acquaintance I had made a year before, and who was then a boarder at the Marshall House. I went to the hotel. The porter who answered my timid ring replied to my inquiry for Mr. --.

        "I b'lieve de gemman not in. I'll see, though," added he, as he saw my earnest look; "jis wait a minnit."

        He returned with the intelligence that Mr. M-- was at home. I followed him to the chamber.

        "Dis am Massa M--'s room."

        The breeding of the gentlemanlike M-- was not proof against the change in my personal appearance; but the startled look of wonderment faded into a far graver expression, and this last was followed by one of his usual welcome smiles. I frankly told him all. At first he remonstrated.

        "Take off this," said he, touching my fustian jacket. "In an hour's time I'll have you in proper trim. I can furnish you the money to return, and a line from me to the doctor will set all right."

        To all he could say, I replied that I had made my choice, and must go.

        "At least," said he, "let me get you a berth and your outfit;" and to this, after some debate, I consented. It so happened that there was no voyage that precisely suited me. There was, however, a Boston merchant then in the city, a friend of Mr. --'s, who was one of the owners of the good ship C--, then bound to Valparaiso and a market. In reply to the inquiries of my friend M--, he said he had no doubt but that I could get a berth in her, and that if I chose I might bear him company, as he would leave the city in the afternoon. M-- wrung my hand, as I bade him good-by.

        "Perhaps it's best, after all, Fred," said he. "Write to me, and be sure you so conduct yourself as to be able to write me a good account of what you have done.

Be away a year or so, and then come back; study medicine, and marry Mary A-- in spite of them all!"

        I attempted to say something in reply, but my emotions overpowered me, and with a choking sensation in my throat, which prevented all utterance, I pressed his hand in both of mine, and hurried away.

        It was at daybreak on the second morning after I left Philadelphia that we arrived at Boston. The market-wagons, milk-carts, and bread-carts were beginning to rattle over the pavements as we entered the city. There were stirring, too, some few of those desperate early risers, martyr-like health-seekers, muffled to the chin, and looking fiercely out from the entrenchments of furs and flannels, in which their faces were defensively posted, upon the fog and the gray sky, as they strode around the Common.

        By the advice of my companion, I went to the Mariner's House, where, by the by, I found, for the few days I was there, comfortable quarters, and the kindest of treatment. About a week after my arrival, I signed "the articles," as "a green hand" on board the C--, at eight dollars a month. "O what a fall was there" to my dreams of a fortune! It was too late, however, to recede.

        The next morning we hauled out in the stream, and the following day we got our anchor at daybreak, and made sail. The wind hauled to the eastward as we came up with Cape Cod. Bearing away, we ran through "The Swash of the Horseshoe," and stood on through the Vineyard Sound. At five in the afternoon, the land grew dim, and I breathed my silent adieu to my native land. The wind freshened, hauling a little to the northward; and, as they say at sea, it began to get

rough. With several others I made my way, with an overpowering feeling of nausea and dizziness, to the lee scuppers, and paid the first bitter tribute to Old Neptune. I remember--faintly as if it were a dream--that I crawled wearily below into the dark, filthy, forecastle, and managed, how I know not, to stretch my limbs

                         "On my pallet of straw."

        It happened, for some reason, that I had not had an anchor watch while we were lying in port, and I had forgotten, if I had ever known, that a very material portion of a sailor's work was to be done in the night. Judge, then, of my amazement--my utter consternation--when with three blows of a handspike upon the deck just above my head, and a voice which could have scarcely been more terrible to me had it been "the last trump," the mate shouted

        "All star-bowlines ahoy--y--y! Twelve o'clock, bullies! Tumble up here! D'ye hear?"

        "Ay, ay!" growled some drowsy old salt; and, after some delay and no little hard swearing, a light was struck, and the watch turned out. Sick as I was--and I cared little whether I lived or died--I went on deck. "Olympian Jove!" exclaimed I, as I reached the scuttle. The darkness was as rayless as that of the land of Nile. I groped my way staggering, and occasionally falling headlong, to the weather-rail, and there, shivering under the bulwarks, wet with the spray, sick, exhausted, I remained during the long, cheerless four hours of my first night-watch at sea. I have since known something of hardships, have ridden out many a gale,

but never afterwards, in my recollection, was I so glad to hear the welcome words,

        "Eight bells! call the watch!" and, a few minutes afterward, "Go below, the watch!"

        I will not tire you with the details of our outward passage. Suffice it to say that I was not long in getting my sea-legs on; that I took my tuck at the wheel the second day out, and that I learned "the ropes" sooner than any other green hand on board. We had a terrific storm off the mouth of the river La Plata, and some snow-squalls off the Cape; but, on the whole, we had a pleasant passage--one hundred and twenty days to Valparaiso.

        One of our men-o'-war entered the harbor just ahead of us. I can give you little idea of the joy one feels, after a long passage, on seeing the stars and stripes in a foreign port. It tells you of HOME; and it wakes a host of thoughts and feelings that send your blood shivering along your arteries with ungovernable excitement. What, then, think you, were my feelings as the sloop ahead of us came-to just under the stern of the frigate S--, at whose peak our beautiful ensign was floating lazily in the breeze, and the frigate's band struck the notes of "The Star-Spangled Banner?" I wept like a school-boy, and was glad to be able to conceal my tears by leaning over the rail.

        It was dark when we had got everything snug for the night. The moon rose over the crescent city; the lights glistened from the hillsides, and the songs of the fishermen came to our ears mingled with the mellow tones of the evening bells. I went below.

        It chanced to be my anchor-watch from eleven to twelve. I was called at eleven, and had been on deck but a few minutes when I heard the sound of oars. The sound grew more distinct, and the long, slow, measured stroke assured me that it belonged to a man-o'-war. It hove in sight.

        Suddenly the men lay upon their oars, and a strain of music, the softest, richest, as I then thought, I had ever heard,

                         "Nighest bordering on heaven,"

came over the motionless waters of the bay. The water was glistening like a silver sea; its mirror-like surface being broken only by the cutter, as she glided silently under the stern of the S--. It was the band of the English frigate, with her officers. The officers of the S-- came on deck, and her quarter-rail and taffrail were soon lined with glistening uniforms.

        "Thank you! thank you!" shouted a manly voice among the American officers; but it was unheard in the music of the band, and the boat glided away as noiselessly as she had come, the notes of one of the Ellsler dances sending a thrill of delicious pleasure to every vein.

        We soon discharged the C--, and stood along the coast to several ports (Cognimbo and Arica among others), and in about three months had stowed her with copper (in pigs), hides, Nicaragua wood and wool, together with some tons of saltpetre, and returned to Valparaiso. Never shall I forget the morning that we got our anchor. It was at the dawn of day, and a light breeze was blowing off the land.

        Tom Gomer, or the Doctor, as we familiarly called

him (always the cook's soubriquet at sea), went to the windlass with us, and began the heart-stirring air of

                         "Time for us to go, my bullies!"

as we shipped the brakes of the windlass.

                         "Time for us to go!"

was the roisterly chorus; and the hot tears came in torrents over the stiff wrinkles of many a weather-beaten face, as we "walked the anchor to the bows," and whispered exultingly to each other "Homeward bound, HOMEWARD BOUND!" The words recall to me the delirious excitement of that calm, beautiful morning: the rippled waters of the bay; the silent city; the drum-beat on board the men-o'-war, succeeded by the hoarse call of the boatswain's mates, "A-l-l hands!" the blue heights of the Andes in the distance, and the roar of the surf upon the rocks that lie at the entrance of the harbor. The mate called for the fall and the fish-davit, and the anchor came to the cat-head and upon the rail, to the air of "Cheerily men!" as if it had been for its weight a nursery toy.

        It was on a glorious morning in June that the watch below, myself among them, were startled by the loud cry of "Light, O! Sail, O!" in quick succession. We were among the mackerel-smacks; and it was not long ere some one shouted from the foretopmast cross-trees, "Land O!"

        "Where away?" shouted the old man (nauticé, for the captain), as he came to a sudden halt on the poopdeck.

        "Right ahead, sir! the Capes in plain sight!"

        It fell calm, however, and it was late in the afternoon when we passed the sand-hills of Cape Cod. The breeze

then freshened; and, when a few leagues from Boston Light, a pilot-boat darted like a dolphin under our lee and hailed us.

        "Want a pilot?"

        "Yes."

        "Lay your maintopsail to the mast, and I'll board you."

        The wind again became "baffling." Night came on. Boston light beamed in its benignant beauty upon the sea, and at eleven o'clock we let go the anchor abreast of Spectacle Island. The live-long night did I pace the deck in a fever of excitement. The fragrance of the fields and orchards came off to us with the fresh air of the morning, and the day dawned in beauty. As the sun rose, we got under way, and at nine o'clock we were along side of Lewis' wharf, sails unbent--the runners aboard, and the derrick up ready for discharging.

        Without waiting to doff my sailor attire, I took the cars that evening for Fall River, where I got on board the "Bay State," and at sunrise next morning I was in New York. It had been my intention to go home dressed as a sailor, in order to give the doctor a surprise. I thought of Mary, however; and, remaining two days in New York, I dressed with scrupulous care, and then set out for Washington.

        It was already dark when I reached the city. There was the usual throng upon the avenue, as I walked rapidly along, valise in hand, towards home. When within a few steps of the door, I was very roughly jostled by some one going in the opposite direction, as much in a hurry, apparently, as myself.

        "Howly mother o' Moses!" exclaimed a harsh feminine voice. "Tin thousan' pardons, sir; but could ye inform me where's Docther --'s office?"

        "Yes, I am going there."

        "Well, thin, make haste honey, for the love of the Holy Vargin, for she's dyin'!"

        "Who is dying?"

        "Why, Mary A--, to be shure, that's sick since this day twelvemonth."

        The office door was open. Throwing my valise into the hall, I motioned to a hackman.

        "Drive me to Mrs. A--'s, on -- street. Quick! here's a dollar for you."

        The coach thundered along the avenue, turned into -- street, and stopped. The door opened, the steps rattled, and I sprang upon the sidewalk. Without stopping to question the servant who answered my ring, I rushed past him up the stairs to the room where I had last seen Mary A--. In an instant, I was at the bedside. A smile lighted up the thin wasted features--

                         "A smile of the old sweetness--"

as she placed her hand in mine; a crimson flush overspread her cheek for an instant; then there was a faint pressure from the frail fingers that lay in mine; then a gasp--and Mary A-- was dead!

        What followed I know not. When I recovered my reason, Dr. -- was by my bedside; and on a lightstand near him was a goodly array of cups and phials. A tear was glistening in his eye as he caught the glance of mine, and, clasping his hands as he looked upward, he exclaimed, in his low, earnest tones, "Thank God!"

        "Not a word, my boy," he added; "not a word now. You'll be stronger, soon. Keep perfectly quiet, and you'll soon be well."

        My recovery was slow. To banish as far as possible

the sad recollections that thronged upon me, the doctor brought me here. He could not remain; but I have friends here, among whom I am glad to reckon yourself, and am as happy as I can ever hope to be.

        The night had waned into the "small hours" as the stranger finished his story. The dancing in the saloon had long been over; and the hotel, if I may except the monotonous twang of a guitar from a distant apartment, was quiet. With such expressions of sympathy and regard as I could command, I bade my friend good-night; and, wading through the sand to the sound shore, I was soon at home and in my chamber. In the few remaining hours of the night, I remember having a medley of dreams, in which, on land and sea, I too was a wanderer, loved and was loved again, and saw the clods of the valley that had closed over the grave of

                         "Hopes that were angels in their birth,
                         But perished young, like things of earth."

        When I next visited the hotel, the stranger was gone. Rumor whispered that a bright-eyed Virginia girl who did not often visit the hotel, but chanced one evening to leave the "up guoines" for the dancing saloon, had very manifestly been of service in dispelling his melancholy, and giving him wiser and more interesting views of life. Certain it is that her ring was seen glistening on his finger; that they left in the same packet; and that when Miss Helen -- got into her father's coach at Elizabeth city, it needed no very urgent invitation to induce my young friend to accompany them to the old family mansion at Barleywood.

                         "O! there's nothing half so sweet in life
                         As love's young dream!"

CHAPTER IX.

OLD JACK.

        AMONG the faces that I occasionally see of an evening, not the least welcome to me is that of OLD JACK. Mention the name to any one of the hundreds at NAG'S HEAD, and not one would mistake your meaning. I remember that while I was confined to my chamber by illness, I heard one day tones whose gruffness and growling monotony I was sure must belong to some "old salt;" for the characteristic is as easily detected by one who has been at sea as is the rolling gait or any other peculiarity which marks the genuine sailor.

        He was giving to my friend W-- an account of the captain of the packet Fox. He had really nothing to say to his disadvantage, but, true to his marine instincts, he must of necessity "growl" about something.

        "I don't know," said he (and he would need but a very trifling elevation of tone wherewithal to cry a lost child on Broadway), "as I is got much to say agin de man. He knows de ropes, for sure, an' I'll be boun' he didn't creep in at de cabin windows; but, somehow, I likes a man what knows de twenty-fo' letters ob de alfybet!"

        Jack had heard, from what source I know not, that his skipper was deficient in the somewhat common conveniences of a knowledge of reading and writing, and,

though faithful on board the vessel, he was never tired on shore of expressing his contempt for a skipper whose scientific attainments were so very limited.

        Mr. W-- was fond of the rough, honest old sailor, possessing, as he did, more intelligence than his brethren, and evincing sterling qualities, that won for him not merely good treatment but hearty regard and respect. The old sailor was an oracle in all matters pertaining to the packets, the navigation of the sound, and the history of NAG'S HEAD from its earliest settlement.

        It is known very generally that the coast of North Carolina, from Cape Hatteras northward as far as Killdevil Hills, has been noted for a large number of wrecks. The light-house near the New Inlet is of comparatively recent construction. Before it was erected, scarcely a summer passed without one or more wrecks. There are some frightful tales yet current of wicked deeds on that low sandy coast, of lanterns tied to a horse's head, and of windows that looked seaward being illuminated at night; but no doubt many of them are entitled to no credit.

        Certain it is, however, that vessel after vessel came ashore, and was pillaged of its freight whenever the articles of which it consisted were of such a character as to excite the cupidity of the bankers. The process by which it disappeared was somewhat mysterious.

        "You couldn't see," said Old Jack, "anythin' comin' out; dough dey did say dat some people dat went aboard as thin as ghosts a'most come ashore lookin' like a Baltimore alderman or the sheriff in court-week. Dere was de brig Moon, ye know, massa John, an' I don't know how many more. Dey do say dat dere is some of her cargo 'bout Nag's Head now!"

        The wrecks were a theme whose fertility was never exhausted. The gestures, the fun-loving wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the comic mimicry with which old Jack illustrated his "yarns," made my friend W-- at all times a ready listener. He had won my attention, too, and, when I had recovered my health, I was always glad to hear him talk. It so happened, one evening, as I was standing under the branches of a noble oak, looking down upon the packets as they lay at anchor, the surface of the sound glistening in "the pale moonlight," and the thousand objects which the moon always clothes with beauty, giving additional interest to the scene, that old Jack passed near me. I hailed him.

        "Jack."

        "Sah! your sarvant, maussa!"

        "They tell me, Jack, that you have seen a good many wrecks here at Nag's Head."

        "Why yes, maussa, I'se been in dis part ob de country a great while."

        "The crews generally escaped, didn't they, Jack?"

        "Not al'ays! not al'ays, maussa. Dere was de Jo--, de Jo--; I disremembers the bloody name jis now; dere was right smart o' folks drownded when she come ashore."

        "How was it, Jack?"

        "Why, you see, maussa, dis was a good many years ago, and my memory aint so good no more as it used to be; but I'll tell you all about it, 'jis as fur as I can remember. You see it had been blowin' great guns from the east, an' for five or six days. Den it come on to rain--ye never see de like of it!"

        "Such a storm as we had last week, Jack?"

        "Bless your soul, maussa, dat wasn't a circumstance.

De chimneys come rattlin' down, the shingles blow off, an' de tide--I t'ought my soul it 'u'd never stop risin'. Well, dat night it blowed harder 'n ever. Jis afore sundown, dere was a brig hove in sight with her top-hamper all carried away. De wind drove her strait in towards de shore. Well, ye see, de bankers dey come down to the beach to see her. De people" (the crew) "'peared to be tryin' to get sail on her and claw off; but Lor' bless you, maussa, it wan't no use. Den dere was somebody--it was de cap'n, I s'pose--run up de main riggin' and made signals, and tried to say somethin' wid de speakin'-trumpet. He stayed a little too long in de riggin', for when de brig struck it knock him overboard, and it was all day*

        * "All day with him," a common expression among sailors, meaning "he was killed."

        "But why didn't they lower a boat, Jack?"

        "I been guoine to tell you. You see, it wan't no use nohow to try to lower de boat. In de fus place, de boat bin knocked off de davys and lost, and de long-boat was too heavy to manage in a gale like dat. Lor' love you, maussa! your heart would bin broke to see dem poor creturs. Dey all went aft on de poop-deck and tried to hang on to de rail. Dere was a lady' mong 'em. Some of 'em was washed overboard when de brig struck, and it wa'n't long afore dey wa'n't one livin' soul to be seen. Some on 'em tried to swim ashore, but de under-tow, ye see, carry 'em back, an' it wan't no use. Dere was ten of 'em dat we picked up de next mornin'. De cor'ner sot on 'em, and dey was buried up dere by Jockey's Ridge. I don't never want to see no more such times as dem."

        "Did the bankers get anything from her?"

        "Yes, maussa, de beach was kivered wid de boxes, and barrels, an' I don't know what all."

        "Were none of the bodies identified?"

        "What you been guoine to say?"

        "I mean, did no one come to claim any of the bodies?"

        "No, maussa; yes dere was, too. Dere was one ole gemman from Nansemond--I disremember what his name was--a gray-haired ole man dat took on, an' cried a heap about de young lady; an' it 'pears to me dey carry de body away to Virginny."

        To the vessel, Old Jack is literally wedded. On shore he is never contented, and for that matter, never even at sea; for your true old salt grumbles at the most favorable dispensations of Providence. Tell him "who killed the gauger" (as Curran expressed it), and he would growl if you couldn't also inform him "who wore his corduroys."

        A laughable trait of Old Jack's (as of all old sailors) is his dogmatical tone in all nautical matters. Nothing about a vessel but he considers himself supreme authority as to its name and uses. No part of the world that he has not visited in person, or which some shipmate has not seen and told him all about it that is worth knowing! There was a discussion among the crew one day about latitude. Jack had a knot of listeners round him, and was detailing to some of his untraveled friends a few of the "Wonders of Nature and Providence."

        "Ye see, dere is some places dat's mighty cole--cole enough to freeze de ears off of a brass monkey! and dere is oder places where you can toast a sea-biscuit jis by leavin' it on deck in de sun. In some of dem

dere high latitutes, up in a hundred an' twenty, an' along dere."

        "Why, Jack," interrupted the mate (a white man), "there aint so much latitude as that nohow; leastways, that I ever hearn tell on!"

        "De h--l dere aint, Bill! I'se bin guoine as high as 96° myself!"

        With all his faults, old Jack is a fine, manly specimen of a son of the sea. With his native shrewdness and good sense, education, and opportunity might have placed him in a higher and more congenial sphere. Will his benighted brethren never be one of the sisterhood of the nations that are free?

CHAPTER X.

SAND-FIDDLERS.

        I AM, as James would say, or rather as he has said, "matutinal" in my habits. When one has lain for hours in the night, imparting a palsy-like animation (and I would here be understood to refer very particularly to the shaking palsy) to one's bed by the vigorous shiverings of a North Carolina ague, or "chill," there is no very great merit in your being matutinal in your habits. Apropos of the chills. I expressed to a Carolinian, when I first became a resident in the old North State, my surprise at the sallowness of complexion so common everywhere, and especially among the residents of the eastern counties.

        "Bless your heart, my dear sir, it's nothing at all but the chills and fever! We're RAISED on it here! I'm rather partial to a chill, myself!"

        I was speaking of the custom of early rising. It has not attained quite to the character of custom with me, here at Nag's Head; and for the fact that I rose at four this morning, I make no claim to the ordinary feeling of satisfaction which one is apt to feel in the exercise of such heroic self-denial. The truth is that I had been ill. I had lain, feverish and restless, for hours. Of them all, I alone was awake. C-- slept soundly, though ever and anon he would mutter some undistinguishable words, in his low, pleasant tones; and then all was still. I say still; for the monotonous breathing of the sleepers around me, and the measured tick! tick! tick-ing of the clock were but foils to make the silence more profound and more appreciable. Night--restlessness--solitude--and a chill! what wonder that I rose at four?

        A cool breeze from the ocean greeted me as I stepped forth upon the sands, and I involuntarily directed my steps to the beach. Old Hector came bounding from his kennel, though he had discretion enough to stop a yard from me, with an inquiring look and a wag of his tail, which I construed into

        "By your leave, I'll bear you company."

        I was patting him on the head, when Jumper came wriggling along in a gait partaking the elegancies of both a rack and a gallop, and, with an inconsiderate rush at my nether man, very nearly upset me. I hope I may be forgiven. I had come forth in charity with all the world. I had felt grateful for the cool, fresh air of the sea, and the song of the birds, and the promise

of a beautiful day. I had been gratified, too, at the well-bred retenue of old Hector in his courtly way of bidding me good morning, and his canine tact in so quietly "passing the time o' day."

        I repeat that I hope I may be forgiven. For, in a momentary uprising of wrath, I bestowed on poor Jumper, whose civilities around my legs were getting to be very decidedly pressing, a kick, in which I concentrated all the energy that the chills and the fever had so considerately left me. Jumper looked up at me with a puzzled and astonished expression that makes me laugh as I write; as if he had not quite made up his mind that he might reckon the civility I had just shown him as "one of the customs of the country." Without enlightening him, however, as to the lex loci, I pursued my way to the beach.

        The surf was breaking finely upon the shore; and, feeling somewhat fatigued, I seated myself on a partially decayed cedar stump, that I might rest as I surveyed the beauties of daybreak. The dogs left me, and, to say the truth, I was glad of it. I like company when I am traveling amidst fine scenery; but a sunrise is appreciated best when seen alone.

        As I sat waiting for the advent of

                         "The all-beholding sun,"

my attention was arrested by a very different object; none other than a veritable SAND-FIDDLER--an animal of the genus crab, I take it, though I am no naturalist.

        He was evidently "young and inexperienced;" for he halted at the very entrance of his hole, with a few of his legs over the edge of it, in readiness for instant and precipitate retreat. He stared at me as none

but the unsophisticated can stare, and I returned the civility. He had four legs on each side, between which his round crab-like body hung midway, in the manner of a suspension bridge, and two antennæ in front. His black piercing eyes, which he kept immovably fixed upon me, as if he suspected me of "takin' notes," were at the extremity of two shorter antennæ, and, so far as I could see, were capable of being moved in any direction. While I was surveying him, there came gradually forth from a score of holes as many of the many-legged inhabitants. My young friend, I found, was a sand-fiddler of little influence in the community. No notice was taken of him, except an occasional glance of reproach for being the first to pop out of his hole in the very face of what was supposed to be the most imminent danger.

        Anon, in the throng that seemed gathering for mutual conference de salute republicæ, came forth the old gray-beard inhabitants. With all the dignity of aldermen, they came forward in a direct way of progression. Among the younger members of the community, there was now and then a buckish or coquettish display of the fashionable elegancies of gait, "aiqual to a milliner," as Mr. Mickey Free would say.

        There was, at first, a good deal of bustle. The sages conferred together, and some among them seemed satisfied that a crisis had come, or was about to come in the political and civil history of Fiddlerville. There was one lean hungry-looking fellow, a politician I was certain, who made himself conspicuous by running about, and sounding the views of the citizens. He seemed at last to have secured the attention of all. It is my deliberate belief that he was making a speech. If there had been

any resolutions drawn up, I was not cognizant of the fact; but I felt sure that that lean-looking sand-fiddler was successfully persuading the majority of the citizens both of their danger and his own patriotism, to say nothing of their own indomitable prowess, which, as it had ever been sufficient to defend the garrison, would now, out of all question, be equal to the present alarming crisis.

        The sun had risen, and it was the hour for breakfast. When I arose to depart, the whole assembly dispersed, my patriotic friend being the first in the inglorious retreat to the subterranean city. A delicious dish of coffee awaited me on my return. John, the baby, was making the house ring with his good-natured roar. My friend W-- was discussing a corned mullet, and C-- had already ordered his horses for a drive with some of the ladies.

CHAPTER XI.

THE PACKETS.

        NAG'S HEAD would not long be known as a watering-place, or summer resort, but for the peculiar features which distinguish it from any other within my knowledge. One of these features is the fact that a very large proportion of the visitors are actual residents in private dwellings. True, there is a large hotel, and it is usually thronged from the first of July until the latter part of September. The majority of those who take

up their quarters at the hotel are unmarried. Planters, merchants, and professional men usually have a snug cottage at Nag's Head, to which they remove their families, with the plainer and more common articles of household furniture, one or more horses, a cow, and such vehicles as are fitted for use on sandy roads; a buggy sometimes, but oftener a cart, resembling the convenient Canadian cart or the Nantucket "calash" (caleche). One, two, three, sometimes half a dozen servants accompany the family. Indeed, I know one gentleman who has some sixty negroes (children and invalids for the most part) living here, not far from his own residence. It costs but little, if any more, to keep them here than it would to leave them at home.

        Now, to feed so many hungry mouths there must be a goodly supply of provisions. And, inasmuch as nothing can be cultivated here, the supplies must come from the plantation. As fresh vegetables are almost indispensable, it is of great importance, too, that the intercourse between NAG'S HEAD and home should be constant and regular.

        It is this that sustains some three or four packets, which run usually twice a-week. One of these plies between ELIZABETH CITY and NAG'S HEAD. Another comes from HERTFORD; another from EDENTON, and another from SALMON RIVER, or MERRY HILL; the latter being owned and employed by a wealthy gentleman for the convenience of his family and friends.

        None of these packets, I believe, run less than sixty miles. They are chartered, if I am rightly informed, by a number of families; and for a stipulated sum carry them back and forth, and convey horses, furniture, provisions, and other freight during "the season."

        It will readily be seen that the constant intercourse thus maintained, in a shallow sound (for the Albemarle has but a few fathoms of water) cannot be without danger. True, "the season" is the part of the year least hazardous to sailors; but there occurs sometimes, in mid-summer even, a violent storm. This, in a stanch vessel, in the open sea, were a matter of small moment; but with shoals on every hand, the coast scantily lighted, and with the decks cumbered by horses, carts, and furniture, a storm may be a thing to be dreaded even in Albemarle Sound.

        I was roused from my slumbers this morning by the shouts of the children, oddly contrasting with the gruff bass of old Jack, who had come for a chat with "Maussa John."

        "The packet's come! mother! the packet's come!" shouted V-- and S--. "Packet's come!" echoed little S--; and John the baby (a brave little fellow he is, too) roared, in an ecstasy of excitement, "Oo--oo--oo!" A promiscuous tumble upon the stairs was then heard, and up came T-- and F-- to swell the chorus.

        In a few minutes, the boat was loosed from her moorings, the sail set, and J-- was on his way to the packet. She lay quietly, riding at single anchor, and gave an air of companionship and life to a scene which else had little to rob it of its accustomed expression of barrenness and solitude. It was not long before J-- had returned, and the tumult recommenced.

        "Here's a letter for you, papa! And there's one for you, Mr. Seaworthy!" "Two for you, sister J--!" "Here's some tomatoes! and a bag of apples--and here's

a box of clothes for you, T--!" Such were some of the expressions that were audible in the momentary din.

        "What kind of a passage did you have?" said Mr. W-- to old Jack.

        "Why, tol'ble, Maussa John, thank ye; on'y tol'ble. Right smart chance of wind off Alligator*

        * The mouth of the Alligator River.

        "Any damage, Jack?"

        "No, maussa; leastways, none to speak of. Dere was one young lady's bonnet carried away, and clumsy ole Pete, plague take de fella! trod on one of de ban'-boxes and split anoder. But de top-hamper and de groun'-takle's all right, and as long as dem is where dey b'longs, I don't care for de small damages. De Fox has got a new foresail and jib, and dem aint ben guoin to fetch away nohow."

        Such were my notes of the packets. I have other, and widely different associations which will long cause me to think of them with interest. It was on board the little -- packet that I left a home which a very short residence had made dear to me. My fellow-passengers were personal friends, and the ordinary and trivial incidents of a passage, under such circumstances, are events which we remember with pleasure.

        It was in the packets, too, that I had seen, one after another, well-nigh all the familiar faces deserting their summer residences for the quiet and other comforts of

home. Some I had watched, as they departed, with the sad thought that it was scarcely probable that I should ever meet them again. One of the gloomiest of all the days I spent at Nag's Head was that on which some half a score of my personal friends bade us good by. On the preceding evening, C-- and myself ventured upon the singing of the following