While I was watching this vessel, our men called out to me that there was another close on our lee-bow, which I had not observed on account of our mainsail.  Luckily, however, it proved to be a Ning-po wood-junk, like ourselves, which the pirates had taken a short time before, but which, although manned by these rascals, could do us no harm, having no guns.  The poor Ning-po crew, whom I could plainly see on board, seemed to be very much down-hearted and frightened.  I was afterward informed, that when a junk is captured, all the principal people, such as the captain, pilot, and passengers, are taken out of her, and a number of the pirates go on board and take her into some of their dens among the islands, and keep her there until a heavy ransom is paid, both for the junk and the people.  Sometimes, when a ransom can not be obtained, the masts, and spars, and everything else which is of any value, are taken out of her, and she is set on fire.

The two other piratical junks which had been following in our wake for some time, when they saw what had happened, would not venture any nearer; and at last, much to my satisfaction, the whole set of them bore away.

A SEA FOWLING ADVENTURE.

One pleasant afternoon in summer, Frank Costello jumped into his little boat, and pulling her out of the narrow creek where she lay moored, crept along the iron-bound shore until he reached the entrance of one of those deep sea-caves, so common upon the western coast of Ireland.  To the gloomy recesses of these natural caverns, millions of sea-fowl resort during the breeding season; and it was among the feathered tribes then congregated in the “Puffin Cave,” that Frank meant, on that evening, to deal death and destruction.  Gliding, with lightly-dipping oars, into the yawning chasm, he stepped nimbly from his boat, and making the painter fast to a projecting rock, he lighted a torch, and, armed only with a stout cudgel, penetrated into the innermost recesses of the cavern.  There he found a vast quantity of birds and eggs, and soon became so engrossed with his sport that he paid no attention to the lapse of time, until the hollow sound of rushing waters behind him made him aware that the tide, which was ebbing when he entered the cave, had turned, and was now rising rapidly.  His first impulse was to return to the spot where he had made his boat fast; but how was he horrified on perceiving that the rock to which it had been secured was now completely covered with water.  He might, however, still have reached it by swimming; but, unfortunately, the painter, by which it was attached to the rock, not having sufficient scope, the boat, on the rising of the tide, was drawn, stern down, to a level with the water; and Frank, as he beheld her slowly fill and disappear beneath the waves, felt as if the last link between the living world and himself had been broken.  To go forward was impossible; and he