improbable, under those which actually existed impossible.  But, why should we endeavour to escape from this vessel?  The countries were at peace:  we had just bought Louisiana from France, and paid fifteen millions of dollars for it, thereby not only getting the country ourselves, but keeping it out of the hands of John Bull, and we were said to be excellent friends, again.  Then the Dawn had extricated herself from English clutches, only a day or two before; no doubt the lugger would give us all the aid we could require.

“She is French, for a thousand dollars, Miles!” I cried, lowering my glass from the first good look of the stranger; “and by keeping away two points, we shall speak her in fifteen minutes.”

“Ay, French,” rejoined the mate, “but, blast ’em all round, I’d much rather have nothing to do with any of the rogues.  I’ll tell you how it is, Miles, these are onmoralizing times, and the sea is getting to be sprinkled with so many Van Tassels, that I’m afeard you and I’ll be just that dear, good old soul, my mother, and little Kitty, to be frightened, or, if not exactly frightened, to be wronged out of our just rights.”

“Little fear of that this time, Moses—­this is a Frenchman; as we are bound in to a French port, he’ll not hesitate to lend us half-a-dozen hands, in order to help us along.”

“Ay, and take half the ship and cargo for salvage!  I know these piccaroons, and you ought to know ’em too, Miles, for it’s only two or three years since you were a prisoner of war among ’em.  That was a delightful feelin’, I rather conclude.”

“Times are altered, Moses, and I’ll show confidence in the change.  Keep the ship away, Neb—­so; meet her—­steer for the lugger’s foremast; that will do.”

Of course, these orders soon brought the two vessels alongside of each other.  As the lugger approached, we made her out to be a stout, but active craft, of sixteen guns, and apparently full of men.  She set the ‘tri-color,’ when half a mile distant, sure of her prey, should we turn out to be a prize.  We showed-him the stars and stripes of course, fancying he would treat them as a friend.

It was not long before both vessels had rounded-to, and preparations were made to hail.

“What sheep’s zat?” demanded one in good broken English.

“The Dawn, of New-York—­may I ask the name of your lugger?”

“Le Polisson—­corsair Francois—­what you load, eh?”

“Sugar and coffee, with cochineal, and a few other articles.”

“Peste!—­Vere you boun’, Monsieur, s’il vous plait.”

“Hamburg.”

“Diable!—­zis is non ze chemin.—­How you come her, sair, viz ze vin’ at sow-vess?”

“We are going in to Brest, being in need of a little succour.”

“You vish salvage, eh!  Parbleu, we can do you zat mosh good, as veil as anodair.”