edly do. Perhaps it may reconcile your mind to the
destruction of these miscreants to know that for every one killed there
will probably be saved the lives of dozens--if not hundreds--of innocent
men and women, whom he would have murdered, or doomed to hopeless
slavery, in the course of his wicked career."

As Edgar spoke, the sound of oars was heard. Presently the captain and
his men leaped on deck. The moorings were cast loose, our hero took his
station at the engine, and the gun-boat glided swiftly down the river,
leaving the pirate stronghold in flames.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

LIFTS THE CURTAIN SLIGHTLY AS TO PIRATICAL DOINGS IN THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY.

Silently they glided on, until the shades of evening fell, and the
brilliant stars came out. Silently, for the gun-boat went at
half-speed; silently, for her engines were good and new, and worked
softly without the jarring of age or mal-construction; silently, because
those on board were in a tranquil mood, and did not raise their voices
above a low murmur.

"How romantic," said Aileen, in a low tone, as she sat by the stern-rail
and watched the gleaming track left by the screw; "how enjoyable, if we
could only forget what has just passed, and the object we have in view.
The world is a mystery!"

"Is this the first time you have thought so?" asked Edgar, who leaned on
the rail near her.

"Well, I think it is," she replied, with a sad smile; "at least it is
the first time I have been deeply impressed with the thought."

"It is a very old thought," returned the youth, musingly. "Philosophers
from the earliest times have recorded it. Thoughtful men and women of
all ages have expressed it. Young people of all generations fancy they
have discovered it. The Bible is a key which opens up much of it, and
makes it plain; but much still remains in mystery, and I suppose will
continue so to remain, till Time merges in Eternity."

"Do you think such mystery undesirable?" asked Aileen.

"No. It is desirable, else God would not have left it there. `Shall
not the Judge of all the earth do right?' There is a need be, I doubt
not, for mystery, and there is no need for our being distressed by it,
for what we know not now we shall know hereafter. But there is much
cause for anxiety lest we, either through wilful ignorance, or
carelessness, or stupidity, should allow that to remain involved in
mystery which is made plain by revelation. The way of salvation was a