little bell for the engineer to stop the boat. The signal | approach of the other steamer. us. "Mr. Fink, I do believe there is a boat ahead, in the 'shute,' he cried, hastening to the wheel-house, and addressing the pilot. "I know it," said Paul gravely, "and we shall all know it before long. It's Hugh Northup's boat." "Then the devil will have his pick out of our crew before the week's out," said the mate, with a reckless manner to which sudden fear gave a kind of desperation. "I should'nt care myself," he added after a moment's silence, "if it were not for Anna and my little boy at home." He then folded his arms and leaned moodily against the wheel-house, with his head fallen upon his breast. The descending steamer, of whatever character she might be, was now rapidly approaching us through || the darkness of the forest-walled passage. Her blow echoed through the glades of the wood sharp and clear, and the dash of her paddles in the water could be plainly distinguished. Paul stood firmly at his wheel and kept the boat closely hugging the starboard shore, to give the stranger a birth, though there seemed to be only room for us alone in the confined and tortuous channel. He was pale as death, his lips set, and his eyes fixed upon the point where he expected to behold the boat appear. Louder and louder resounded the deep roar of her escape-pipes, and the dashing of the water, as her paddles strongly beat it. Suddenly through the gloom and intervening trees, her furnace-fires gleamed along the water! Above her prow was set her blood-red signal || lantern, and on her stern a blue one! These lights plainly designated her character. Down she came upon us with fearful speed. She was but twice her length off and when I expected that the next breath we should come together with fearful collision, to our surprize and wonder, we beheld her turn from her straight course directly into the forests! The huge trees bent low with their tops of thick foliage before her path, and seemed to form a sea of green billows, lighted up by her furnacefires, over which she rode proudly and majestically. Making a graceful sweep athwart our bow, we heard her bell ring to stop her engines, and our engineer in his terror, stopped his also. A thin, ghastly figure, attenuated to a skeleton, now sprung out of her wheel-house, with a trumpet in his hand, while a fearful looking being leaving the engine came upon the guard, and laughed mockingly as the other hailed us, in a shrill, horrible voice "What steamer is that?" No one answered on board, though the whole of our crew of boatsmen and firemen, with the captain and numerous passengers, now crowded our decks, gazing with horror and suspicion upon the hellish steamer, as she rode on the billowy trees of the forest. "For the love of" "Ha, ha, hah!" laughed the infernal engineer, and we could not hear whether the wicked and miserable being said "God," or not, but he continued in a most piteous tone "Tell me the route to New-Orleans! I have been sailing and sailing and sailing, 'till my crew have died one by one-my mates have died, my pilots grew mad and drowned themselves, my engineer is dead—” "Ha, ha, hah!" laughed the fearful being beneath him on the deck, "ha, ha, hah! you lie, Hugh Nor thup!" The poor wretch moaned and groaned enough to melt a stone; and walking aft as his boat drifted away on its green sea, he cried→→→ "Oh, then, for the love of “Ha, ha, hah!" laughed his infernal engineer, and we could not hear his adjuration, but we could hear him continue→→ "Give me some food, some food, some food! I perish with hunger. I have eaten but one meal for more "It is the Lucifer, Mr. Fink. God help us!" groaned than a year! Oh, give me food, if you will not show me the way to New-Orleans, that I may eat again!" the mate. "Amen!" responded Paul, with emotion, whirling his wheel like lightning to bring the head of his boat as close shoreward as possible, for the strange steamer was bearing directly down the middle of the "shute," under a full head of steam. "She will sink us as true as heaven!" cried Paul, putting his helm hard down, 'till he almost forced the boat in among the trees. "Never fear," said a deep voice close beside us, "for the Lucifer can find water where other boats would ground." We turned with suspicion to where the words came from, and beheld the passenger in the black cloak. He immediately passed on to the forward part of the hurricane deck, and stood there, calmly surveying the alarming Not a word was spoken on board our boat-but a deep groan was emitted from every bosom. The poor wretch then clasped his hands, and seemed lost in hopeless despair, such as no mortal man could look upon without fear. At length he cried, imploringly "Send me then, I beg of you, good christians, a pilot for I am too ill to steer my own vessel longer-perhaps he would bring me to Orleans." There was a dead silence for an instant, when the passenger, whom Paul had taken such a prejudice against, answered from the hurricane deck“Ay, ay, send your boat!" The poor, miserable captain, at the sound of his voice, uttered a piercing shriek, and falling on his knees, he wrung his hands piteously, as if a fearful fate, more dreadful far than that he still endured, awaited him. | dispersed. I was left alone with Paul and the mate, who had all the while, from the first, remained immoveable moodily leaning against the wheel-house. We had by this time cleared the "shute," and were running at large in the open river, with the broad, bright skies open all around us. The infernal engineer immediately sprung into the boat, and sculled towards our steamer. It was dry and leaky, and threatened to sink with him. The Lucifer, herself, was also old and tumbling to pieces; her chimneys were red with rust; her guards broken; her wheel-houses torn, and the paddles on the wheels half gone, and her whole appearance that of premature decay and neglect -a splendid wreck ! We watched in silent expectation the approach of the yawl. It came along side, and the passenger in the black cloak sprung into it. The next moment he stood beside Captain Hugh Northup, on the deck of the Lucifer. "How do you, captain," he said, in a voice which we all distinctly heard; "you look ill, methinks. Well, you have been twelve months making your voyage, instead of three days.' Slow sailing, captain, for a 'brag trip. Well, it can't be helped. You know the alternative of your failing ?" The poor captain remembered his oath, and covered his face with his withered hands. "Well, Paul," I said, by way of an interjection, as an assent to the truth of all he had related to me in reference to the "Lucifer." "Seeing is believing," he said, in the deep tone of subdued emotion. "Sir, I am a dead man!" "Oh, no, Paul," I said, laughing, to cheer him in his gloomy forebodings. "Sir, I shall not live a week." "Why do you think so?" I inquired, touched with his serious manner. He made me no answer; and after addressing one or two more remarks to him, and receiv ing no further reply, I was about to leave the wheelhouse and descend to the cabin, when the mate caught my hand as I was passing by him. "Pardon me, sir; but if you will be so good as to give these little things to my wife-Paul will tell you "As you may not be more fortunate in finding the where to find her-and tell her " Here his voice way to the infernal regions, than you have been in find-choaked with emotion. "Tell her I died blessing and ing that to New Orleans, I have come to pilot you.Ho! sir engineer, up steam and drive to h―!” Immediately the forcastle was thronged with a demon crew, who began to "fire-up" with appalling activity. The boilers and chimneys grew red hot with the intense fires, on which, with hellish cries, they never ceased piling wood. The engine was set in motion-our black cloaked passenger took the wheel, which at his touch, became a wheel of fire, and the accursed steamer got once more under full headway. The poor, miserable captain the while, paced his decks with looks of despair and speechless horror. Away flew the doomed boat, illumined from her red hot chimneys and enveloped in a veil of lurid light. We gazed in silent terror. Onward and downward went the doomed vessel. The forest yawned-the earth opened, and she entered a vast inclining cavern on a river of molten fire. Downward and onward she descended beneath the forests-beneath the water, and gradually disappeared in darkness and gloom from our horrified gaze. As she sunk from our sight a scream that made the blood curdle in our veins, mingled with demoniac laughter, reached our appalled and shrinking ears. Then all was still, and darkness and gloom took the place of the late fearful spectacle. The forests stood around us as before, in stern and silent mystery; the water wore its former placid look, reflecting the stars from its bosom, and all nature was as before. For a few minutes not a word or sound escaped the breathless crowd upon our decks. Paul was the first to recover his presence of mind, and pulled the bell for the boat to proceed. I was gazing upon his face at the moment he did so, and saw that it wore a look of melancholy resignation-such as a condemned man shows when at last he has resigned himself to his fate. In a short time, the throng, more or less affected by the terrible spectacle it had just witnessed, silently praying for her." He grasped my hand warmly, pressed it hard, and then clasping his hands above his head, leaped into the deep river. A boat was lowered, but the doomed mate was never seen more! When the steamer reached Saint Louis, the body of her pilot, Paul Fink, was borne on shore upon the shoulders of four men ! Reader, this story is no dream, like many of this marvellous and supernatural kind, which, when you get to the end, the writer very coolly tells you that he dreamed it all. It is a true and veracious story, all but the incredible part of it, which we will not insist too strongly on forcing upon the belief of the skeptical. "There are more things in Heaven and Earth," dear reader," than are dreamed of in philosophy." Original. A SUMMER'S NOON. J. H. I. NATURE is faint, one hot continuous glare H. Original. ALICE COPLEY.* A TALE OF QUEEN MARY'S TIME. BY ANN S. STEPHENS. CHAPTER V. ONCE more our story returns to the room in which Queen Mary was in the habit of spending her mornings at Windsor Castle. It was the second day after Alice Copley's arrest, and since that interview of violence in her dressing-room, Mary had not seen her young husband. She had been informed that he returned from London late on the previous evening and had remained in his own apartments ever since. Weak in her affections as she was ruthless in her bigotry, she had no fortitude to wait for the usual hour of his visits, but immediately after entering her morning apartment, sent a messenger to request his presence. The royal emmissary found Philip ill at ease, and as anxious for a reconciliation, though from different motives, as his consort, still he made a show of reluctance, and it was more than an hour before he presented himself in answer to her pacific summons. When he did appear he was as usual attended by his favorite page, but the boy seemed still suffering from the indisposition that had so strangely seized him at the tower. There was no color in his cheek and the fire had entirely departed from his eyes, leaving them dim and full of suffering, but it would seem larger, and with a power of expression which made the heart yearn pityingly toward him. The greeting which passed between the royal pair was stiff and constrained. Philip knew that his only hope of dominion in the realm, depended on the weak fondness of the woman whom he had outraged, he almost feared, beyond all hopes of forgiveness, and now that he had been so decidedly repulsed by Alice Copley, the passion which had led him to an extremity which he at first little contemplated, began to change to that sickening hate which the base counterfeit of love alone is capable of assuming, and he was ready to go hand in hand with his cruel consort in persecuting the unhappy girl, even to a death of torture. Mary, on her part, had been excited with fears that her young husband would, if opposed in any favorite desire, abandon her and return to Spain, as he had more than once threatened, and though her heart panted for revenge on her unwilling rival-though she had rudely refused to hear one word of expostulation in behalf of the prisoners from the good Cardinal Pole-had Philip made the release of John Copley and his daughter the price of a reconciliation with his Queen-she would probably have yielded them up. But the haughty Prince had been too severely humbled in his self-love, and without one sigh of compunction he abandoned the young creature whom his own evil passions had driven into the toils of death. After a few constrained inquiries after his Queen's health, Philip requested the Page to bring his lute, more * Continued from page 177. | from a wish to relieve the disagreeable awkwardness of silence which followed, than from a desire for music. The boy went as desired, but with nothing of the alacrity or show of spirit which he had formerly displayed. He knelt at his master's feet and began to tune the instrument, but paused in his task, and with his eyes fixed upon the floor, fell into a fit of musing. When Mary supposing his strange conduct the effect of timidity, arising from her presence, graciously strove to re-assure him by commendations of his previous performances, he looked in her face with an abstracted air, as if utterly unconscious of what she was saying. He began to play, however, but languidly, and at last broke off in the middle of an air and placing his lute on a table, sat down as if forgetful of the royal presence. "You forget in whose presence you are," said Philip, sternly. The boy arose to his feet, and for a moment the old fire kindled his eyes. "Your gentle favorite seems ill," said Mary, with some show of womanly sympathy, "methinks he has grown both pale and thin since he last accompanied your grace to our presence." Philip looked keenly at the object of her remark, but his eye fell beneath the calm, mournful glance, which met his gaze. The boy seemed heart-broken. "Our own leech shall attend him," resumed Mary, glad of any indifferent subject of conversation. "It will do no good;" replied Philip, quickly; "he grieves for home-these cold skies are too chilling for his tender frame. He shall return to Spain in the next ship." A smile of sorrowful meaning passed over the boy's face, but he did not speak. The mention of Spain sent a cloud to Mary's brow and all three sat in silence-when Father Joseph entered the room. He seemed surprized at seeing Philip, and paused a moment at the door as if to conceal a folded parchment which he held in his hand. Mary arose hastily and approached the priest, as if she knew the subject of his visit and wished to avoid it. If Friar Joseph observed her anxiety he gave no evidence of it, but placing the parchment in her hand, informed her in a low voice, that a messenger had come express from Bishop Boner, in London, craving her royal signature to the warrants, which, according to her desire, he had caused to be made out for the execution of John Copley and his daughter. He also informed her that the secretary of Cardinal Pole had just arrived at the castle with a letter from the noble prelate, which he desired to deliver to the Queen in person. Mary looked impatient and annoyed. "Let him wait," she said, "an hour or two hence we may grant him an audience. But, though we would not do aught to displeasure our good father; the Cardinal, if this letter relates to the subject of our last interview, it can be of no avail that his messenger should see us." "He did not say to what his message related," replied the priest. "Is it your grace's pleasure that he should wait?" "Let the choice rest with him," replied Mary, turn ing away, we may be constrained to repeat our answer to the good Cardinal's petition, but it must still be the same," and moving toward a table, she placed the warrants which she had received upon it with an air of sullen constraint, for she felt, without seeing it, that Philip was keenly watching her movements. The priest still hesitated. "The messenger from Bishop Boner also requests an audience regarding these troublesome heretics," he persisted. "Let him also wait," replied the Queen, sharply. Nay, Sweetheart," said Philip, "I pray you that both these persons be admitted at once. Some information regarding this Copley and his heretic daughter was brought to my ear on the day of their arrest, which created in my mind some doubts of their guilt. But yesterday, availing myself of your grace's royal signet, I visited them in the Tower, and in person examined them touching the dangerous heresy with which they are charged. For-though it has pleased the good people of this realm to charge me with urging forward those proceedings against heretics which have been deemed necessary to the preservation of our blessed church, I would that none should be condemned unjustly. In my strict examination of these persons, whom it grieves me to think were so long near the sacred person of your grace, they seemed utterly contumacious. Yet, in our love for the good Cardinal Pole, it were better, perchance, that we listen to all he may urge in their behalf, before the signature be placed to that fatal parchment." Never was astonishment more plainly betrayed by human features, than that which overwhelmed Queen Mary's at these words. Even Friar Joseph for a moment lost his almost immoveable composure, and looked keenly in Philip's face, as if doubtful of his sincerity. The page alone betrayed no symptoms of surprize, but a close observer might have remarked something in the expression of his face to wonder at. It was too mournful and serious for triumph, and yet there was a shade of stern resolution there which gave to his beautiful features a degree of dignity unnatural to them. Though he remained quiet, powerful thoughts were evidently at work within, and his apparently careless eye marked all that was passing. "Be it as you desire, my lord," said Mary, most graciously, after she had recovered from the state of bewilderment into which Philip's words had thrown her. "We shall be most grateful for your aid and countenance in this troublesome matter," and turning to the priest, she gave orders that Cardinal Pole's secretary should first be admitted to her presence, and after him, the messenger sent by Bishop Boner. When Francis Huntley presented himself before the Queen, he was received with a degree of kindness which almost awakened a feeling of hope within his bosom that she might yet be persuaded to deal less cruelly with her victims; and this faint delusion was even strengthened by her manner, as she perused the Cardinal's letter. He little knew that her seeming gentleness arose from the certainty of dealing vengeance on the head of her rival, unrestrained by a fear of the consequences which might follow from her vindictive lord. Her heart was exulting in its power, like a hound suddenly freed from the leash, and this feeling poor Huntley mistook for the triumph of womanly compassion over bigotry and wounded self-love. Her first words, after carefully perusing the letter, were calculated to continue his mistake. "Our reverend cousin, the Cardinal, tells us here," she said, glancing again at the letter, "that he is ill in health, and sorely depressed in spirit. We trust that his ailment is of no serious character." "My uncle has not been well since his visit to Windsor, yesterday. He has been much depressed in mind since then, and being too feeble for the effort himself, has sent me hither to plead with your majesty to reconsider his request. On my knees, lady, let me entreat you to grant his prayer; he has ever been a most faithful servant to your majesty and the Catholic church, but he holds the welfare of these prisoners near at heart, and pleads with you to show them mercy." Huntley had flung himself at Mary's feet, and with his soul in his words, continued to plead with her. 66 Mercy is a sweet attribute, lady," he said, "both sweet and natural to a woman's heart-oh, extend it-in my noble uncle's name I entreat-to those who have never sinned against your grace, save by the exercise of a right to think for themselves in-" "Ha!" exclaimed Mary, drawing hastily back. "I did but say," resumed the youth, thus admonished of his danger, "what the prisoners might themselves think an excuse for the unbelief which has placed them in such jeopardy. Nor did I intend my words to be understood as coming from the Cardinal." "The Holy Virgin forbid!" exclaimed Mary, crossing herself. "But arise, good youth-retire to the closet of our holy confessor, while we again read this despatch from our beloved cousin, the Cardinal, and prepare a fitting answer. Retire and it shall be brought to thee anon.' Mary extended her hand as she spoke, and the youth, pressing his lips gratefully upon it, left the room with a lightness of heart which he had not known for days. Her gracious manner had completely deceived him. After Huntley left the room, Mary sat down and with her own hand wrote a letter to the Cardinal Pole, for though resolute in pursuing her own vindictive wishes, she was anxious to preserve the good will of a man whom she had ever held in reverence. The answer to his petition was decisive in a refusal, but softened by expressions of personal regard. The writer urged a pious care for religion as an excuse for the proceedings which he deprecated, and with many protestations of undiminished favor, besought him to cast the subject from his mind as one utterly unworthy of the interest it had excited there. Before the letter was sealed she gave it to Philip for his approval, and then despatched it to the secretary by the confessor, when he returned, after conducting Boner's messenger to her presence. This man was received graciously, as the secretary had been, for his errand was one very gratifying to the Queen. "And how fares it with our true friend and trusty servant, the good Bishop Boner?" she inquired, as the by illness and unable to attend; or if he should by a man presented himself reverently before her. "He was well in health when I saw him this morning, but sorely pressed with care and vexation, brought upon him by heresies which are daily ferreted out among your majesty's rebellious subjects; scarcely an hour passes that his pious soul is not grieved by some new case of apostacy. So zealous has been his labor in the cause of Holy Church and of your grace, which is in sooth one and the same thing, that those who hold his welfare at heart, suffer much with fears least his person and life, even, be in danger, so mighty has that monster heresy become in the land, and so loud is the popular outcry against him." "He has been faithful in the holy cause and shall not lack his queen's protection-say this much to comfort him, good fellow, on thy return," replied Mary, betraying some slight indication of impatience at the fellow's long harangue. "And now say briefly what message he bade thee deliver with that document-we mean regarding the guilty persons sent to the tower two days since, from the castle here." "The right worshipful bishop, may it please your grace, bade me draw out a warrant for the execution of these pestilent heretics-I pray your grace pardon me but to the heart of a true catholic, heresy is no better than a pestilence-and when they were drawn neatly out, as your grace will doubtless observe, he ordered me to bring them down here and humbly crave that the royal signature be placed to them immediately. But he said farther, that such was his fear of the popular fury which has become much excited by divers late executions, in which many obstinate souls have been sent down to purgatory, witnesses to his worshipful zeal and your grace's most holy care of the true church-that, owing to this popular fury, he deems it advisable that some slight show of trial should be held on the prisoners in question, the more especially as Cardinal Pole had sent to him demanding such trial, and avowing a determination to examine the acused persons himself in open court-" "Indeed," muttered the Queen, 66 we love our cousin, the good Cardinal, right well, but he had better not meddle farther in this matter." These words were spoken in a low tone, and the messenger went on without the least pause. miracle, get there, the worthy bishop directed me to say that he had little fear but the prisoners would sufficiently criminate themselves to justify him in sending them directly to the stake, if certain that your grace will protect him in so doing. To this end he prays your grace to draw him an order under your own hand, by which he or any person whom he may appoint, may claim the prisoners for examination, from the Lieutenant of the Tower, for as they were placed in his charge by an order bearing the royal signature, he may cavil at giving them up unless we can produce like authority. This order, may it please your grace, is the grist of the worshipful bishop's message." “And a clear headed fellow has he entrusted it to," muttered Philip, sneeringly "by the mass-if her grace listen to another such medley this twelve-months, she has more patience than I give her credit for." Philip spoke in an undertone not loud enough to arouse Mary from the train of deep thought into which she had fallen as the messenger ceased speaking. Her intellect, at no time quick or powerful, was somewhat confused by the tiresome explanations with which the man had delivered his message, and it was not 'till a favorite spaniel which had been playing about the room, began pulling mischievously at her train, that she aroused herself sufficiently to answer him. forth to London at once," she said, stooping down to "We will prepare the order, that thou mayest set bishop, shall find no impediment in the way of his duty.” rescue her train from the dog; "our trusty friend, the With these words, Mary seated herself and began to write. She signed the order and left it on the table while she walked across the room to a window where Philip was standing, and in a low voice seemed asking his advice on what had passed. The spaniel thus abandoned, began frolicing around the messenger, and while the attention of all in the room was thus occupied, the Page arose quietly and moving toward the table, stood trifling with the strings of his lute, which lay upon it. As he sauntered idly to his place again, the dog, in bounding about the room, leaped playfully on the table, scattering the parchment about in every direction. Both Philip and the Queen came angrily forward, but with a quick instinct of danger, the troublesome animal secured a mouthful of the loose parchment and ran behind the tapestry, whence he escaped through an open door. “Now, may it please your grace, this Cardinal Pole, though a good catholic at the bottom, is as chickenhearted as a girl, when it comes to the burning of a It took several minutes to collect the scattered docuheretic, and when one is trusted to his keeping he always contrives to let him slip loosely through some loop-hole ments, and when they were at length placed upon the of the law and escape, a thing which I take it upon me table, the order which Mary had written was no where to say the worshipful Bishop Boner was never known to be found. After some farther delay occasioned by a to be guilty of. Well, your grace, his worship bade me fruitless search for the lost order, Mary wrote another, say, that as some sort of a trial does seem to be neces- and giving it to the man, bade him depart instantly with sary, in order to stop the clamorous tongues of the it for London. The messenger was leaving the room, people and to appease the milky-hearted Cardinal Pole when Philip bade him remain a few moments, and taking as well, he requires permission to bring these persons up the death warrant for John and Alice Copley, which to his house in London, to-morrow at twelve o'clock, for had been sent down for her signature, he requested examination, when he will advise Cardinal Pole of the Mary to sign it, observing that it would save Bishop fact, knowing the old prelate to be confined to his house | Boner the trouble of another messenger to Windsor. |