tered--"Eudora is thy
sister!"

The answer of the free-trader was accompanied by a melancholy smile.

"You have been deceived. Save the brigantine my being is attached to
nothing. When my own brave father fell by the side of him who protected my
youth, none of my blood were left. I loved him as a father, and he called
me son, while Eudora was passed upon you as the child of a second marriage
But here is sufficient evidence of her birth."

The Alderman took a paper, which his companion put gravely into his hand,
and his eyes ran eagerly over its contents. It was a letter to himself
from the mother of Eudora, written after the birth of the latter, and with
the endearing affection of a woman. The love between the young merchant
and the fair daughter of his secret correspondent had been less criminal
on his part than most similar connexions. Nothing but the peculiarity of
their situation, and the real embarrassment of introducing to the world
one whose existence was unknown to his friends, and their mutual awe of
the unfortunate but still proud parent, had prevented a legal marriage.
The simple forms of the colony were easily satisfied, and there was even
some reason to raise a question whether they had not been sufficiently
consulted to render the offspring legitimate. As Myndert Van Beverout,
therefore, read the epistle of her whom he had once so truly loved, and
whose loss had, in more senses than one, been to him an irreparable
misfortune, since his character might have yielded to her gentle and
healthful influence, his limbs trembled, and his whole frame betrayed the
violence of extreme agitation. The language of the dying woman was kind
and free from reproach, but it was solemn and admonitory. She communicated
the birth of their child; but she left it to the disposition of her own
father, while she apprized the author of its being of its existence; and,
in the event of its ever being consigned to his care, she earnestly
recommended it to his love. The close was a leave-taking, in which the
lingering affections of this life were placed in mournful contrast to the
hopes of the future.

"Why has this so long been hidden from me?" demanded the agitated
merchant--"Why, oh reckless and fearless man! have I been permitted to
expose the frailties of nature to my own child?"

The smile of the free-trader was bitter, and proud.

"Mr. Van Beverout, we are no dealers of the short voyage. Our trade is
the concern of life;--o