" 'Tis the rash hand that rights on the wild sea,
Or in the desert — violence is law,
And reason, where the civil arm is weak."
THE entrance of Harrison, alone, into the cottage of the pastor, put a stop to the dialogue which had been going on between himself and the seaman. The reception which the host gave the new comer, was simply and coldly courteous — that of his lady was more grateful, but still constrained; as for poor little Bess, she feared to look up at all, lest all eyes should see how much kinder her reception would have been. Harrison saw all this, but the behaviour of the pastor seemed to have no effect upon him. He rattled on in his usual manner, though with something of loftiness still, which appeared to intimate a character of condescension in his approaches.
"Mr. Matthews, it gives me pleasure to find you well — better, I think, than when I had the pleasure to see you last. You see, I tax your courtesies, though you could find no relatives of mine in Charleston willing to extend you theirs. But the time will come, sir, and your next visit may be more fruitful. Ah! Mrs. Matthews, growing young again, surely. Do you know I hold this climate to be the most delightful in the world, — a perfect seat of health and youth, in which the old Spaniard John Ponce, of Leon, would certainly have come nigher the blessed fountain he sought, than he ever could have done in Florida. And you, Bess — Miss Matthews, I mean — still sweet, charming as ever. Ah! Mrs. Matthews, you are thrice fortunate — always blessed. Your years are all so many summers — for Providence leaves to your household, in all seasons, one flower that compensates for all the rest."
And thus, half playful, half serious, Harrison severally addressed all in the apartment, the sailor excepted. That worthy looked on, and listened with no little astonishment.
" D—d easy to be sure,"he half muttered to himself. Harrison, without distinguishing the words, heard the sounds, and readily comprehending their tenour from the look which accompanied