beckoned to a midshipman, who soon returned with a large sea-chart, which the captain spread out on the capstan head.

“Ah! here we have this small rock—Fate Island, I see the natives call it—away to the south-west; and that lofty bluff headland, north by west, now shining so white, as if formed of marble, is Fitfiel Head, or the White Mountain, I see by a note—not an unfit name either; and that high point to the south-east again is Sumburgh Head. What bleak and barren hills appear to the northward again! What a dreadful coast to make during the long nights of winter!” The captain shuddered. “Unless we find the interior more attractive, I shall wonder how my ancestors could have had so much partiality for such a country.”

“Summer or winter, in stormy weather it is not a coast a seaman would wish to hug too closely,” observed Lieutenant Alvarez; “the crews of the ships of our great Armada found that to their cost. However, there appear to be some good roadsteads, where, should bad weather come on, we may be secure.”

“Numbers. See what a curious shape has the mainland,” observed the captain, pointing to the chart. “It is fully twenty leagues long, and yet there does not appear to be a point where it is more than a league across from sea to sea. Those voes run up for a league or more, and make it appear like some huge insect. Then what innumerable islands of all shapes and sizes! The people should be amphibious, who live here, to enable them to visit their neighbours: in a southern clime what a delightful spot it might be! but in this hyperborean region, existence must be a penalty.”

“As to that, my fancy is for a southern clime,” answered the lieutenant, who, by-the-by, did not clearly comprehend all his captain’s remarks; “but I suppose as there are some animals, polar bears and arctic foxes, who delight in snow and frost, so there are human beings who are content to live on in this cheerless region.”

“Not a bad notion, Alvarez,” observed the captain, who continued walking the deck, and talking much in the same strain with his officer. The contrast between the two was very considerable. The captain, Don Hernan Escalante, was a refined, highly-educated man. His knowledge on most matters was extensive, if not profound; he spoke several languages, and among them English, with a fluency few Spaniards attain. Few Spaniards indeed of that day were equally accomplished. His first lieutenant, Pedro Alvarez, was every inch a seaman, and like many seamen despised all who were not so. Again the captain stopped before the chart, 

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