and as each lovely feature of the Irish shore gradually developed itself, and arose bright and fresh from the mists of the morning upon his eager gaze, he presented, in his own person, an image, that denoted the intention of the creator, when he made man supreme above all, to reign over his fair creation.

He stood erect, his arms so folded as to give to his square chest and shoulders a peculiar muscularity and breadth of outline. His fine bust, indicating extraordinary strength, would have been almost disproportioned to his stature, which rose not much above the middle height, but that the loftiness of his air, and the freedom of his carriage, conferred an artificial elevation on his figure, and corrected what might be deemed imperfect in his actual structure. His large eyes were rather deep set than protuberant; and their glances, rather side-long than direct, flashed from beneath his dark impending brows, like

the vivid lightnings which fringe the massive vapours of a tropical atmosphere. His mouth had a physiognomy of its own it, was what the eye is to other faces and the workings of the nether lip, in moments of emotion, indicated the influence of vehement passions, habitually combatted, though rarely subdued. The expression of his countenance was more intellectual than gracious, and calculated to strike, rather than to please. But his rare and singular smile (a smile so bland, it might well have become even a woman's lip) wholly changed its character; and the full displayed teeth, of splendid whiteness, produced perhaps even too strong a contrast with a complexion, which southern suns, and climes of scorching ardor, had bronzed into a dark, deep, but transparent olive. No tint, no hue warmed or varied this gloomy paleness, save when the tide of passion, rushing impetuously from the heart, coloured

for a moment, with a burning crimson, the livid cheek, and then, as promptly ebbing back to its source, left all cold, pale, and dark as before.

From his accent or manner it would have been difficult to assign him to any particular country. He seemed rather to belong to the world;-one of those creatures formed out of the common mould, whom nature and circumstances combine and fit for deeds of general import and universal interest. Neither could the term gentility be appropriately applied to an appearance which had a character beyond it. He might have been above or below heraldic notices and genealogical distinctions, but he was evidently independent of them. His mate, an old but hale man, with whom he conversed in Spanish (but who had English enough to work the ship, and sufficient knowledge of the Irish seas to steer it with skill), respectfully addressed him by the title of

"the Commodore ;" and the crew (a few English sailors, to whom he seemed, even by name, a stranger) adopted the same appellation. But he issued his clear prompt orders with the air and decision of one to whom higher titles of command were familiar. He was a good sailor, fearless in danger, calm and self-possessed in difficulty; and, to the only passenger who accompanied him, (one courteously and accidentally admitted on board his ship), he spoke of himself as a man fond of the sea from boyhood, making voyages of pleasure when he could, and now uniting an old habit of recreation with the urgency of pressing business. He was on his way from a West India island, on a secret mission, of importance to himself; but he neither mentioned his own name, nor inquired that of the young passenger he had taken up out of a wherry in Plymouth Sound, the port whence he had last sailed, and where the stranger had

vainly sought a passage to Ireland, now granted him by the commander of Il Librador.

The appearance of this person, who had voluntarily announced himself by the name of De Vere, was less equivocal, and though infinitely interesting, was perhaps less striking than that of the Commodore. It was also of a more definite stamp and character; more assignable to a class, a cast, a country. Though there was little of conventional mannerism about him, though his elegant and thorough bred air was wholly unmarked by the overcharged fashioning of any country, yet, to those acquainted with the first class of British distinction, he was easily cognizable in accent, dress, air, and physiognomy, as an Englishman of rank and fashion, the homme comme il faut of the highest circles.

There was, however, in the countenance and modes of this distinguished young stranger something more than