n had a nephew, a very different sort of
a personage, a young heir to a marquisate, who used to pay attention to
his bachelor uncle by paying him visits, at first because he was ordered
so to do, and after once or twice because he had seen Virginia, and was
struck with her appearance. He was a good-looking young man, about
nineteen, but not very bright--indeed, I ought to say very silly,
although at the same time not at all bashful. He made an acquaintance
with my mother, who was delighted with his condescension, and declared
that he was one of the most pleasant young men she had ever met with;
and he would have been very intimate with Virginia had she not repulsed
him. As soon as the leaves dropped off the trees the old bachelor
declared that there were no more tints worth remaining for, and he took
his departure. About a month afterward his nephew came down, accompanied
by a young man who was his tutor, and hired the apartments, much to the
joy of my mother, who now had hopes, and much to the annoyance of my
sister, who had fears of being persecuted.

And now, having in this chapter brought up my history to the
commencement of the year 1805, I shall again enter into a more detailed
narrative.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

More Cry than Wool--Bramble would dig a Pit for another, and
tumbles in along with him.

It was in the month of March, 1805, when the easterly winds prevailed,
and vessels were detained in the Chops of the Channel, that I agreed
with Bramble that we would return together and halve the pilotage. About
eight leagues from the Lizard Point we boarded a small ship which had
hoisted the signal, the weather at that time being fine and the wind
variable. When we went on board it was but just daylight, and the
captain was not yet on deck, but the mate received us. We were surprised
to find that she mounted twelve brass guns, remarkably well fitted, and
that everything was apparently ready for action, rammers and sponges,
shot and wadding being all up and at hand.

"A prime morning, shipmate," said Bramble; then casting his eye over the
deck, "A letter of marque, I presume?"

"Yes," replied the mate, "we have the papers, but still she has never
run without convoy since I have been in her; we lost our convoy three
days back, and the captain has been rather uneasy ever since."

"Uneasy! why, I should think that you could beat off a good stout
privateer with these guns of yours?"

"Well, I don