was unrelieved by any cheering expectations of the future.  He fully believed his doom to be sealed, and that less on account of his imaginary offence as a spy than on account of the known and extensive injuries he had done to the English commerce.  Raoul was a good hater; and, according to the fashion of past times, which we apprehend, in spite of a vast deal of equivocal philanthropy that now circulates freely from mouth to mouth, and from pen to pen, will continue to be the fashion of times to come, he heartily disliked the people with whom he was at war, and consequently was ready to believe anything to their prejudice that political rivalry might invent; a frame of mind that led him to think his life would be viewed as a trifle, when put in the scales against English ascendency or English profit.  He was accustomed to think of the people of Great Britain as a “nation of shopkeepers,” and, while engaged himself in a calling that bears the brand of rapacity on its very brow, he looked upon his own pursuit as comparatively martial and honorable; qualities, in sooth, it was far from being without, as he himself had exercised its functions.  In a word, Raoul understood Cuffe as little as Cuffe understood him; facts that will sufficiently appear in the interview which it has now become our office to relate.

The prisoner received one or two friendly visits in the course of the morning; Griffin, in particular, conceiving it to be his duty to try to cheer the condemned man, on account of his own knowledge of foreign tongues.  On these occasions the conversation was prevented from falling into anything like the sombre, by the firmness of the prisoner’s manner.  With a view to do the thing handsomely, Winchester had caused the canvas bulkhead to include the guns on each side, which of course gave more air and light within the narrow apartment, as it brought both ports into the little room.  Raoul adverted to this circumstance as, seated on one stool, he invited Griffin, in the last of his visits, to take another.

“You find me here, supported by a piece of eighteen on each side,” observed the prisoner, smiling, “as becomes a seaman who is about to die.  Were my death to come from the mouths of your cannon, Monsieur Lieutenant, it would only meet me a few months, or perhaps a few days, sooner than it might happen by the same mode in the ordinary course of events.”

“We know how to feel for a brave man in your situation.” answered Griffin, with emotion; and nothing would make us all happier than to have it as you say; you in a good warm frigate, on our broadside, and we in this of our own, contending fairly for the honor of our respective countries.”

“Monsieur, the fortune of war has ordered it otherwise—­but, you are not seated, Monsieur Lieutenant.”

“Mon pardon—­Captain Cuffe has sent me to request you will favor him with your company, in his cabin, as soon as it may be agreeable to yourself, Monsieur Yvard.”