way."

The hermit looked gravely from one to the other, and stroked his beard.
Drawing his rude chair towards the door of the hut, he folded his arms,
and crossed his legs, and gazed dreamily forth upon the rich landscape.
Then, glancing again at his guests, he said, slowly: "Yes, I will do what
you ask,--I will tell you my story."

"An', if I might make so bould as to inquire," said Barney, with a
deprecatory smile, while he drew a short black pipe from his pocket,
"have ye got such a thing as 'baccy in them parts?"

The hermit rose, and going to a small box which stood in a corner,
returned with a quantity of cut tobacco in one hand, and a cigar not far
short of a foot long in the other! In a few seconds the cigar was going
in full force, like a factory chimney; and the short black pipe glowed
like a miniature furnace, while its owner seated himself on a low stool,
crossed his arms on his breast, leaned his back against the door-post,
and smiled,--as only an Irishman can smile under such circumstances. The
smoke soon formed a thick cloud, which effectually drove the mosquitoes
out of the hut, and through which Martin, lying in his hammock, gazed out
upon the sunlit orange and coffee trees, and tall palms with their rich
festoons of creeping plants, and sweet-scented flowers, that clambered
over and round the hut and peeped in at the open door and windows, while
he listened to the hermit, who continued for at least ten minutes to
murmur slowly, between the puffs of his cigar, "Yes, I will do it; I will
tell you my story."

CHAPTER XI

THE HERMIT'S STORY

"My ancestors," began the hermit, "were among the first to land upon
Brazil, after the country was taken possession of in the name of the King
of Portugal, in the year 1500. In the first year of the century, Vincent
Yanez Pin