he broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel
which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or
caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories,
merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch
as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo.

Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding
shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white
cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of
my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as
I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to
all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my
view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the
endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they
were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the
home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No
wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught
a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings
of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy
skies" of my native isle.

The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the
West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the
first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to
death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all
through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart
partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol
was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded
his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face.

"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?"

"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you."

"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have
no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than
otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can
fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we
are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not
shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share
their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious
hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to
plunge into its m