back to his charger, then returned full of pride and
delight to congratulate us on this honour.

We saw the kind and noble Prince-Prelate no more, as a Turkish invasion
of his northern frontier hurried him away from his little capital before
Laurie was well enough to be moved there. We remained ten days under
Captain Blundel's canvas roof, he most kindly undertaking to superintend
the removal of poor John's body to Cattaro, and its respectful interment
there. Meanwhile Basil was my unwearied helper in the task of nursing
Laurie--a happy task, as the beloved invalid gained strength each day.
The faithful fellow escorted us to cetigna, then flow back to his
prince's side for some weeks, but managed to return to Cetigna in time
to be our guide to Cattaro. How thankful I felt when I saw your dear
uncle once more installed in his home! and to complete my satisfaction,
his dear and early friend, Francis Popham, joined us there almost
immediately, having left England on receiving from Captain Blundel the
mournful tidings of his brother's death. Under his able management,
affairs were soon restored to perfect order. I scarcely need to tell
_you_ how it has pleased Heaven to prosper your uncle's and his joint
exertions since that time, and how a few months ago your uncle became a
partner in that house and we returned to live in dear old England.

Basil and Spira are still alive. "Little Nilo" is grown a noble-looking
youth as gallant as his father, and far better taught, having received a
good education in one of the excellent schools founded by our friend
Bishop Danilo.

Thus ends our adventure on the Black Mountain; so now to bed, all of
you, and I wish you a good night and happy dreams.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE BOATSWAIN'S SON: A TALE OF THE SEA, BY WILLIAM H.G. KINGSTON.

It was the memorable 1st of June. A sea fight ever to be renowned in
history was raging between the fleets of England and France. The great
guns were thundering and roaring, musketry was rattling, round-shot, and
chain-shot, and grape, and langridge, and missiles of every description,
invented for carrying on the bloody game of war, were hissing through
the air, crashing against the sides of the ships, rending them asunder,
shattering the tall masts and spars, sending their death-dealing
fragments flying around, and hurling to the deck, mangled and bleeding,
the gallant seamen as they stood at their quarters in all the pride of
manhood, fightin