his own evil deeds, even in this life; as if God had
decreed the universal predominance of truth and the never-failing
downfall of falsehood from the beginning; the success of wrong being
ever temporary, while the triumph of the right is eternal. To apply
these consoling considerations to the matter more immediately before us:
The practice of impressment, in its day, raised a feeling among the
seamen of other nations, as well as, in fact, among those of Great
Britain herself, that probably has had as much effect in destroying the
prestige of her nautical invincibility, supported, as was that prestige,
by a vast existing force, as any other one cause whatever. It was
necessary to witness the feeling of hatred and resentment that was
raised by the practice of this despotic power, more especially among
those who felt that their foreign birth ought at least to have insured
them immunity from the abuse, in order fully to appreciate what might so
readily become its consequences. Ithuel Bolt, the seaman just mentioned,
was a proof, in a small way, of the harm that even an insignificant
individual can effect, when his mind is fully and wholly bent on
revenge. Ghita knew him well; and, although she little liked either his
character or his appearance, she had often been obliged to smile at the
narrative of the deceptions he practised on the English, and of the
thousand low inventions he had devised to do them injury. She was not
slow, now, to imagine that his agency had not been trifling in carrying
on the present fraud.

"You do not openly call your lugger le Feu-Follet, Raoul," she answered,
after a minute's pause; "that would be a dangerous name to utter, even
in Porto Ferrajo. It is not a week since I heard a mariner dwelling on
her misdeeds, and the reasons that all good Italians have to detest her.
It is fortunate the man is away, or he could not fail to know you."

"Of that I am not so certain, Ghita. We alter our paint often, and, at
need, can alter our rig. You may be certain, however, that we hide our
Jack-o'-Lantern, and sail under another name. The lugger, now she is in
the English service, is called the 'Ving-and-Ving.'"

"I heard the answer given to the hail from the shore, but it sounded
different from this."

"Non--Ving-and-Ving. Ithuel answered for us, and you may be sure he can
speak his own tongue. Ving-and-Ving is the word, and he pronounces it
as I do."

"Ving-y-Ving!" repeated Ghita, in her pretty Ital