Suddenly a swallow flew in through the window, swiftly winged its flight thrice around the room, and then fluttered over the head of the dying man, whose preternaturally bright eyes were riveted upon its movements. Finally, with a mournful farewell twitter, it brushed closely past his face, and darting forth into the open sunny air, was seen no more.

"Ah!" exclaimed Dunraven, "well do I understand ye, creature of God!"

This expression, I thought, intimated that he actually regarded the visit of the bird as a message from the unseen world of spirits to warn him that his last moments were at hand, and he possibly also associated its presence with some events in his history then unknown to me.

"Bring me the wine and the goblet you will find in yon old sea-chest!" was the extraordinary direction he immediately afterwards gave to Luckie. "There is," continued he, "at the bottom of the chest, my sea-cloak, in which you will find the flask and goblet. That battered old chest has been my companion in all my voyages and wanderings, and the cloak was a gift of my mother when first I went to sea. I wish it to be spread over me for my pall!"

I promised him that this wish should be complied with; and when Luckie had carefully unrolled the cloak, she found, to my astonishment, a long-necked flask of wine, and a large antique Venetian crystal goblet, cut in the most exquisite style, and enriched with sparkling gems, and precious stones, and gilded devices. She mechanically brightened this sumptuous goblet, and Duuraven received it with flashing eye.

"See!" cried he, holding it forth, all glittering in the warm sunbeams, "this has been an heirloom in my family for four long centuries. My father used it only on high festivals, and the night before his death he drained it for the last time. Since then it has never once been filled. I am the last of my race, and it is meet that I quaff my death-draught from it ere it passes into the hands of the stranger. To you," added he, addressing me, "I bequeath it."

I was so amazed at all I saw and heard, that I could only bow my acceptance of the gift.

"The wine," he resumed, "is of a name and quality befitting the lips of a dying man. It is a flask of rare Cyprus, which once was my father's, and I have always preserved it for an occasion like this."

He here motioned to the landlady to uncork it. She did so, and he received the flask in one hand, and grasping the heavy goblet in the other, steadily poured forth the wine to the lees, and the goblet was brimful. The rich, dark old Cyprus mantled and creamed in its matured strength, and the eye of Dunraven gleamed with a species of fierce exultation as he watched it till the last bubble rose and burst on the surface.

He slowly raised the goblet to his lips and never lowered his hand until he had drained the last drop. Then he calmly kissed the goblet, set it down by his side, and in an unfaltering but unearthly tone, exclaimed:

"All is ended!"

The next moment he sank heavily backward, and without word, or groan, or sigh, or sign, his spirit fled to its final ac count.

I sacredly kept my oath to the departed. No prying eye gazed on the miniature and handkerchief on his breast-his cherished old sea-cloak was his pall—all his wishes were scrupulously fulfilled. He was buried precisely where he had indicated, and heart-warm tears were shed o'er his grave. A red-rose tree was planted at his head, and a cypress at his feet, and the huge old sycamores of Cramond churchyard yet moan a requiem over him. No stone indicates who rests below; but the cypress casts its shadow, and the red-rose sheds its perfumed leaves over the Rover's grave, and the redbreast, in autumn, hops twitteringly away when a stranger approaches to silently muse o'er the nameless mound.

a light on the history of the deceased, his secret must have perished with him.

At length I examined it, and found that it consisted of a great variety of papers and documents in different hands, together with divers letters and closelywritten sheets of notes and memoranda. At the first glance I was confused by the apparent incongruity of the subjects these papers treated of, but on a more regular perusal, incidents which had seemed inexplicable and contradictory proved consonant, and each formed a link of a chain. Wild and romantic adventures--deeds of daring--the most powerful passions of human nature-the worst and the best emotions of the soul--these formed the ground-work of the canvas, so to speak; and in the foreground stood forth a few preeminent actors in the drama. Dunraven himself was a prominent character, yet a subordinate one. It was palpable that a material portion of the facts related in these papers had from time to time been made public-but the bare facts only; and other portions which alone could elucidate the mystery enveloping the main incidents, and enchance their interest, had hitherto remained profoundly secret. I now held the key to the entire Romance of Reality; and as Dunraven had bequeathed me the papers without any restriction as to the use I might be inclined to make of them, I seriously debated in my mind the propriety of condensing them into a narrative of actual facts. So far as Dunraven himself was concerned, there could be no objection to this, but as regarded others, mature consideration convinced me that I should not be morally justified in doing such a thing. Were I, however, to weave the narrative into a fictitious shape to give Reality the outward garb of Romance-no possible harm could accrue. So have I done.

the moon shone clear of the wild dark clouds scudding athwart the sky, he had fancied that he saw a fragment of wreck ahead to windward. Thereupon the mate procured the night-telescope, and with its aid he distinctly made out a large spar floating atop a wave, and evidently drifting rapidly towards the bark. There was something attached to the spar, but ere he could distinguish what it was, the entire object disappeared in the trough of the sea. A few minutes later it was again in sight, at a much less distance, and then the mate could positively discern that a human being was clinging to the spar. On this, he ran below to inform the captain, who hurried on deck, and promptly ordered the ship to be so steered as to near the unfortunate cast. away, whilst a boat was made ready for lowering.

In a brief period the ship was hove to, and the boat was launched and pulled towards the spar. When alongside the latter, the sailors found a man lashed to it, in a state of extreme exhaustion. With great difficulty, owing to the chopping sea, they cut the rope and lifted him into the boat, whence he was transferred into the bark. He was too weak to speak, and the humane captain immediately had him conveyed to the cabin, stripped, and placed in a berth. Stimulants were then administered, and his body was swathed in warm blankets. He speedily revived, and evidently a night's rest was all that was requisite to render him quite conva lescent. All night he slumbered heavily, and occasionally murmured words in a foreign language.

The dress of the shipwrecked man, thus providentially rescued, consisted of a pair of seaman's trowsers, made of fine blue cloth, a belt of richly embroidered crimson silk, (worn in a roll,) with pendent tassels descending from the left hip to the middle of the thigh. He had no jacket nor vest. His shirt was of white linen, of extraordinary fineness. He wore thick Iceland stockings, and light shoes, with curious silver buckles. In the belt was stuck a keen-edged dagger in a leather sheath, ornamented with brass. The hilt of the weapon was covered with closelytwisted brass wire, affording a firm grip for the hand. In the trowsers' pockets were found a few foreign coins, and a large antique silver snuff box, with a lengthy inscription in Danish on the lid.

In person, the unknown was of the middle hight, but his frame of prodigious muscular development. His hairy chest was of extraordinary breadth, and his limbs were gigantic in size, and one solid mass of muscles, bones, and sinews. His hands were finely shaped. His head was comparatively small but well shaped, and covered with long flossy hair of a very light color, almost silvery. His features were clearly and finely cut, and their extreme delicacy imparted to them quite a feminine and yet not an effeminate-expression. His eyes were large, and in color light blue. He wore neither whiskers, beard nor moustache, and his countenance was of that rare kind that requires no such manly embellishments. From the lobes of his small ears, exquisitely chased gold rings were pendent; and on the little finger of his left hand he wore a massive gold signet ring. A deep scar, as though from a cutlass slash, disfigured his left shoulder, and another cicatrice, apparently caused by a musket-ball, in his right side, were observed and commented upon by his rough but kindly nurses. Obviously he was a mariner-yet one of no common stamp-and a foreigner; probably a Scandinavian, or possibly a Russian. His age appeared to be thirty odd.

During the night the weather moderated, and almost a calm ensued by daybreak. The kind-hearted captain of the Camperdown had repeatedly looked at the slumbering stranger to see that all was going on well with him, but the latter did not awake from his sleep-so deep as almost to resemble a trance-till noon. The captain was writing at the cabin-table when he heard a movement in the berthwhich was an open one- and turning round, he perceived the unknown sitting up and gazing at him with an air of singular perplexity. The captain smiled, and exclaimed:

"You wonder where you are, eh? You have fallen into good hands. Do you understand English ?"

The stranger gazed steadily at his interrogator and then replied:

"Yes, I can speak English a little, sir!" "A little! why you speak it as well as myself;" and in truth he did. "How do you feel yourself now?"

"I am nearly well, and I feel very grateful to you for preserving my life," was the grave and emphatic reply.

66

Ay, yours was an escape! But touchand go is a good pilot, as we say. As to myself, I only did my duty-no more than what any man would have done." And the captain briefly related the manner in which his guest was rescued from the wilderness of waters.

The foreigner listened with perfect composure; but his voice had a tone of anxiety as he asked the name and destination of the ship.

"The bark Camperdown of Leith, homeward bound from St. Petersburg. I am her master, and my name is Charles May. But we will overhaul these matters by and by. Can you get up, and are you hungry?"

Both questions were answered in the affirmative, and the captain at once ordered the steward to spread the table with the best he had. The stranger's own clothes, which had been dried, were handed to him, and he attired himself in them with an air of quiet satisfaction.

"What dandies and fantastic fellows these foreigners are!" muttered the captain, as he observed the care with which the man disposed his crimson belt, and adjusted its pendent tassels. Having done so, he sat down to table with his hospitable entertainer, and ate and drank of all that was offered with an appetite that vouched for his perfect convalescence. Captain May congratulated him; but a quiet bow was the only response; and although he plied his knife and fork without intermission, the stranger was abstracted and profoundly thoughtful. The captain, however, naturally thought he had a right to ask some questions, and when the repast was ended, he intimated as much with a seaman's frankness. His guest made a gesture of assent, and regarded him with a keenly scrutinizing gaze.

"What countryman are you ?" was the captain's first interrogation.

"Danish," was the laconic reply. "You speak English wonderfully well!" "I was taught it when a child, and I have lived in England."

"And what are you? do you follow the sea ?"

"A seaman need hardly ask that!" "True, brother, there is a sort of freemasonry about us mariners, whatever be our country or our color. Was your ship wrecked last night?"

"She will never float again: not two