through every shade of sterility and verdure; from the bare and beetling promontory, which defied the encroaching tide, the desert plain, and dark morass, to the impervious forest, the sloping upland, and the green valley, watered by its countless streams. A transient sun-beam, at times, gilded this variegated prospect, and again the flitting clouds chequered it with their dark shadows, till the dense vapor, which hung over the water, at length arose, and formed an impenetrable veil, excluding every object from the sight.

Night closed in prematurely; the ships parted company, and, in the increasing darkness, there was little prospect of joining again; nor was it possible for either to ascertain the situation of its partner. La Tour's vessel had out-sailed the other, through the day; and he had so often navigated the bay, and rivers of the coast, that every isle and headland were perfectly familiar to him. But Stanhope had little practical knowledge of its localities, and, not caring to trust implicitly to his pilot, he proceeded with the utmost caution, sounding at convenient distances, lest he should deviate from the usual course, and run aground on rocks, or in shallow water. Though with little chance of success, he caused lights to be hung out, hoping they might attract the attention of La Tour; but their rays could not penetrate the heavy mist, which concealed even the nearest objects from observation. Signal guns were also fired at intervals, but

their report mingled with the sullen murmur of the wind and waves, and no answering sound was heard on the solitary deep. Apprehensive that they approached too near the land, in the gloom and uncertainty which surrounded them, Stanhope resolved to anchor, and wait for returning day.

This resolution was generally approved; for, among the adventurers who accompanied him, Stanhope could number few expert seamen, and the natural fears of the inexperienced were heightened by superstitious feelings, at that time prevalent among all classes of people. Many seemed persuaded that they were suffered to fall into danger, as a judgment for joining with papists, in a cause of doubtful equity; and they expressed a determination to relinquish all further concern in it, should they be permitted to reach the destined shore in safety. Arguments, at such a moment, were useless; and Arthur, perplexed and anxious, yet cautious to conceal his disquietude, passed the whole of that tedious night in watch upon the deck.

Another dawn revived the hopes of all,-but they were only transient; the tempest, which had been so long gathering, was ready to burst upon their heads. Clouds piled on clouds darkened the heavens, the winds blew with extreme violence, and the angry waves, crested with foamy wreaths, now bore the vessel mountain high, then sunk with a tremendous roar, threatening to engulph it in the fearful abyss. Still the ship steered bravely on her

course, in defiance of the raging elements; and Stanhope hoped to guide her safely to a harbor, at no great distance, where she might ride out the storm at anchor, for destruction appeared inevitable, if they remained in the open sea. This harbor lay at an island, near the entrance of the river Schoodie, or St. Croix; and was much frequented by the trading and fishing vessels of New-England and Acadia. Already they seemed to gain the promised haven, and every eye was eagerly directed to it, with the almost certain prospect of release from danger and suspense.

It was necessary to tack, to enter the channel of the river; and, at that fatal moment, the wind struck the mainmast with a force which instantly threw it over-board; and the ship, cast on her beam-ends by the violence of the shock, lay exposed to a heavy sea, which broke over her deck and stern. The crew, roused by their immediate hazard, used every exertion to right the vessel; and Stanhope, who had not abandoned the helm since the first moment of peril, managed, with admirable dexterity, to bear her off from the dangerous shore, to which she was continually impelled by the wind and tide. But another blast, more fierce than the former, combined with the waves, to complete the work of destruction. The vessel was left a mere hulk; and the rudder, their last hope, torn away by the appalling concussion, she

was driven among the breakers, which burst furiously around her.

"The ship is gone!" said Stanhope, with unnatural calmness, as he felt it reel, and on the verge of foundering; "save yourselves, if it is not too

late!"

A boat had been fortunately preserved amidst the general wreck; and with the vehemence of despair, they precipitated themselves into it. It seemed perilous, indeed, to trust so frail a bark, and heavy laden as it was, amidst the boiling surge; but it was their only resource, and, with trembling anxiety, they ventured upon the dangerous experiment. Stanhope was the last to enter; and with silent, and almost breathless caution, they again steered towards the island, from which they had been so rudely driven. Some fishermen, who had found a refuge there from the storm, and witnessed the distress, which they were unable, sooner, to relieve, came to their assistance, and in a short time all were safely landed, and comfortably sheltered in huts, which had been erected by the frequenters of the island.

Stanhope's solicitude respecting La Tour was relieved by the fishermen, several of whom had seen his vessel early on that morning, standing out for Penobscot Bay; and though slightly damaged, they had no doubt she would weather the storm, which was, probably, less violent there, than in the more turbulent Bay of Fundy. Arthur was desir

ous of rejoining him, as soon as possible; to report his own misfortune, and assist in the execution of those plans, which had induced the voyage. But his men, in general, were still reluctant to complete their late engagement; they regarded the disaster which had so recently placed their lives in jeopardy as a signal interposition of Providence, and they resolved to obey the warning, and return to their respective homes. Stanhope, vexed with their wavering conduct, and convinced that he could not place any reliance on their services, made no attempt to detain them. The Scots, and a few of his own people, still adhered to him; and he hired a small vessel, which lay at the island, intending to proceed to Penobscot as soon as the weather would permit.

The storm continued through that day;-the evening, also, proved dark and tempestuous; but Stanhope, exhausted by fatigue, slept soundly on a rude couch, and beneath a shelter that admitted both wind and rain. He was awake, however, by the earliest dawn, and actively directing the necessary arrangements for his departure. The storm had passed away; not a cloud lingered in the azure sky, and the first tinge of orient light was calmly reflected from the waves, which curled and murmured around the beautiful island they embraced. The herbage had put on a deeper verdure, and the wild flowers of summer sent forth a richer fragrance on the fresh and balmy air. The moistened