e member
from its trunk, and, drawing the net back again, cast the gory head
upon the floor, saying quietly:--

"One."

Again the net was cast, the steel flashed, the net was withdrawn, and
an ominous "Two!" accompanied the head as it rolled on the floor.

"Do you remember what Pliny says of the gladiator?" said Guy, calmly
wiping his sabre. "How graphic is that passage commencing 'Inter nos,
etc.'" The sport continued until the heads of twenty desperadoes had
been gathered in. The rest seemed inclined to disperse. Guy
incautiously showed himself at the door; a ringing shot was heard, and
he staggered back, pierced through the heart. Grasping the door-post in
the last unconscious throes of his mighty frame, the whole side of the
house yielded to that earthquake tremor, and we had barely time to
escape before the whole building fell in ruins. I thought of Samson,
the Giant Judge, etc., etc.; but all was over.

Guy Heavystone had died as he had lived,--HARD.

MR. MIDSHIPMAN BREEZY.

A NAVAL OFFICER.

BY CAPTAIN M--RRY--T, R. N.

CHAPTER I.

My father was a north-country surgeon. He had retired, a widower, from
her Majesty's navy many years before, and had a small practice in his
native village. When I was seven years old he employed me to carry
medicines to his patients. Being of a lively disposition, I sometimes
amused myself; during my daily rounds, by mixing the contents of the
different phials. Although I had no reason to doubt that the general
result of this practice was beneficial, yet, as the death of a
consumptive curate followed the addition of a strong mercurial lotion
to his expectorant, my father concluded to withdraw me from the
profession and send me to school.

Grubbins, the schoolmaster, was a tyrant, and it was not long before my
impetuous and self-willed nature rebelled against his authority. I
soon began to form plans of revenge. In this I was assisted by Tom
Snaffle,--a schoolfellow. One day Tom suggested:--

"Suppose we blow him up. I've got two pounds of powder!"

"No, that's too noisy," I replied.

Tom was silent for a minute, and again spoke:--

"You remember how you flattened out the curate, Pills! Couldn't you
give Grubbins something--something to make him leathery sick--eh?"

A flash of inspiration crossed my mind. I went to the shop of the
village apothecary. He knew me; I had often purchased vitriol, which I
poured into Grubbins's inkstand to corro