lness of the Gentiles is accomplished._

Great was the joy of my father and mother, and good little sisters, at
the unexpected appearance of Cousins Pedro and Clara. The money of the
former, it may be recollected, had been brought to Boston in the
Cabot, and placed in my father's hands, and though Pedro could not be
called a rich man, still the sum now paid him by his uncle was very
handsome. This, by advice, was invested in an India venture to send by
the Gentile; and my Cousin Pedro, in consequence of this and my
father's recommendation, was appointed supercargo of that ship by Mr.
Selden, the merchant who had chartered her.

Captain Smith was removed to a new and larger vessel; and the
Gentile's list of officers, when she cleared for Canton, stood thus,
Benjamin Stewart, master; Pedro Garcia, supercargo; Micah Brewster,
1st officer; William Langley, 2nd do.; Frank Byrne, 3rd do. Jack
Reeves was also in the forecastle, but Teddy staid by his old skipper.

It was a very pleasant day when we sailed from the end of Long Wharf;
but we had got nearly under weigh before Captain Stewart came on
board.

"That's always the way with these new married skippers," growled the
pilot, as he gave orders to hoist the maintop-sail.

* * * * *

About a month ago, the senior partner of the firm of Byrne & Co. was
heard to say, that he had in his employ three sea captains who had
each one wooed his wife in broad daylight, in a garden of the city of
Matanzas.

ILENOVAR.

FROM A STORY OF PALENQUE.

A FRAGMENT.

BY WM. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "RICHARD HURDIS," ETC.

Weary, but now no longer girt by foes,
He darkly stood beside that sullen wave,
Watching the sluggish waters, whose repose
Imaged the gloomy shadows in his heart;
Vultures, that, in the greed of appetite,
Still sating blind their passionate delight,
Lose all the wing for flight,
And, brooding deafly o'er the prey they tear,
Hear never the low voice that cries, "depart,
Lest with your surfeit you partake the snare!"
Thus fixed by brooding and rapacious thought,
Stood the dark chieftain by the gloomy stream,
When, suddenly, his ear
A far off murmur caught,
Low, deep, impending, as of trooping winds,
Up from his father's grave,
That ever still some fearful echoes gave,
Such as had lately warned him in his dream,
Of all that he