en known by every
sailor and every pilot of Poole under the name of Old Betty. But to
complete the sad narrative, it appeared that William, as he excelled
in swimming, succeeded in gaining the shore of Portland, and arrived
in time at Poole to attend the remains of his benefactress to the
grave in character of chief mourner.

On opening her papers it was discovered that in losing his
benefactress he had lost his mother! That she had been privately
married to a widower of considerable fortune, who had one son by
his first wife, and that on his demise the estate would devolve
on William, provided his half brother had no children. A few days
afterwards the death of Henry ----, Esq. of ---- Hall, Worcestershire,
was formally announced in the daily Journals, and the unexpected
claims of William being acknowledged, he succeeded to a very fine
property and estate, and died as much respected in a good old age as
he was beloved in his buoyant childhood, when the gossips and the
maidens of Poole agreed that the orphan boy promised to be a "nice
young man."--"And not word of a lie in it," said Dick Hart, as he
finished his story, his pipe, and his grog.

We were now steering across Studland Bay. Banks of dark clouds were
gathering majestically on the eastern horizon, and the sun was
rapidly sinking in a flood of golden light. Behind us was the Isle
of Brownsea, with its dark fir plantations and lofty, cold-looking,
awkward castle. On the left was the line of low sand hills, stretching
away towards Christchurch, and seeming to join the Needles' Rocks,
situated at the western extremity of the Isle of Wight, the high chalk
cliffs of which reflected the sun's last rays, giving a rich and
placid feeling to the cold and distant grey. On the right, and closer
to us, was the brown and purple heath-land of Studland Bay. Here
barren, there patches of verdure, and the thin smoke threading its
way from a cluster of trees, denoted where the village hamlet lay
embosomed from the storms of the southwest gales, close at the foot
and under the shelter of a lofty chalk range which abuts abruptly on
the sea, and before which stands a high, detached pyramidical rock,
rising out of the waters like a sheeted spectre, and known to mariners
under the suspicious name of _Old Harry_.

This coast was once notorious for smuggling, but those days of
nautical chivalry have ceased, if Dick Hart is to be credited, who
shook his head very mournfully as he all