ather not try it in our present ship."

"Nor would I, Peter," said Andrew; and the subject dropped.

"What an odd name they have given to our ship!" I remarked one day,
when Tom Stokes was near; "I cannot think where it comes from."

"Oh, I can tell you, Peter," said Tom, sitting down close to me. "I
read some time ago a history of North America, and I remember meeting
with the name of Pocahuntas. You must know that she was an Indian
princess, that is to say, she was the daughter of a powerful chief
inhabiting that part of the country which is now the State of Virginia.
A small body of English, had settled there, with a governor, a handsome
young man, placed over them. They were cultivating the ground and
building houses in fancied security, when the Indians attacked them,
killed some, and carried off others, among whom was the governor, as
prisoners. It was the custom of the Indians to torture their prisoners
in the most dreadful way before killing them. Such was to be the lot of
the governor; but, fortunately for him, he was seen by Pocahuntas, who
instantly fell in love with him, and interceded for his life with her
father. The prayer was granted, on condition that he would become her
husband. He was too glad to accept his life on such terms; for the
young lady was very beautiful, and he would thereby form an alliance
with a very powerful tribe, and secure his countrymen from further
molestation. He became much attached to his beautiful and faithful
bride; and, having succeeded in converting her to Christianity, he
married her according to the rites of the Church. From this union
sprung some of the most respectable and wealthy families of the State."

I thanked Tom for his story, and agreed that the Princess Pocahuntas
ought to be held in reverence by all true Virginians. Our conversation
was interrupted by the cry of "All hands, shorten sail!" We sprung on
deck. A heavy gale had come on, and the ship was heeling over to her
scuppers under it. I was aloft in an instant, helping to reef the
mizzen-topsail; the topgallant-sails and courses had been clewed up.

The wind was about north-west, and blew very cold. The leaden waves
rose sullenly on every side, topped with hissing foam, and every instant
they leaped higher and higher, as if lashing themselves into fury. The
twilight of evening was just giving way to the gloom of night. I never
remember a more dismal-looking close to a day.

We had manag