and ere another such billow had returned to the attack, he drew up, upon the small slip of dry sand, both the body of the man, and the plank to which he continued firmly attached. But how to save and to recall the means of ebbing life and strength, and how to remove into a place of greater safety the sufferer, who was incapable of giving any assistance towards his own preservation, were questions which Mordaunt asked himself eagerly, but in vain.

He looked to the summit of the cliff on which he had left his father, and shouted to him for his assistance; but his eye could not distinguish his form, and his voice was only answered by the scream of the sea-birds. He gazed again on the sufferer-A dress richly laced, according to the fashion of the times, fine linens, and rings upon his fingers, evinced he was a man of superior rank; and his features shewed youth and comeliness, notwithstanding they were pallid and disfigured. He still breathed, but so feebly, that his respiration seemed almost imperceptible, and life seemed to keep such slight hold of his frame, that there was every reason

to fear it would become altogether extinguished, unless it were speedily reinforced. To loosen the handkerchief from his neck, to raise him with his face towards the breeze, to support him with his arms, was all that Mordaunt could do for his assistance, whilst he anxiously looked round for some one who might lend his aid in dragging the unfortunate to a more safe situation.

At this moment he beheld a man advancing slowly and cautiously along the beach. He was in hopes, at first, it was his father, but instantly recollected that he had not had time to come round by the circuitous descent, to which he must necessarily have recourse, and besides he saw that the man who approached him was shorter in stature.

As he came nearer, Mordaunt was at no loss to recognize the pedlar whom the day before he had met with at Harfra, and who was known to him before upon many occasions. He shouted as loud as he could," Bryce, hollo! Bryce, come hither!" But the merchant, intent upon picking up some of the spoils of the wreck, and upon dragging them out of reach of the tide,

paid for

shouts.

some time little attention to his

When he did at length approach Mordaunt, it was not to lend him his aid, but to remonstrate with him on his rashness in undertaking the charitable office. "Are you mad?" said he;

you that have lived sae lang in Zetland, to risk the saving of a drowning man? Wot ye not, if you bring him to life again, he will be sure to do you some capital injury?— Come, Master Mordaunt, bear a hand to what's mair to the purpose. Help me to get ane or twa of these kists ashore before any body else comes, and we shall share, like good Christians, what God sends us, and be thankful."

Mordaunt was indeed no stranger to this inhuman superstition, current at a former period among the lower orders of the Zetlanders, and the more generally adopted, perhaps, that it served as an apology for refusing assistance to the unfortunate victims of shipwreck, while they made plunder of their goods. At any rate the opinion, that to save a drowning man was to run the risk of future injury from him, formed a strange contradiction in the character

of these islanders; who, hospitable, generous, and disinterested on all other occasions, were sometimes, nevertheless, induced by this superstition, to refuse their aid in these mortal emergencies, which were so common upon their rocky and stormy coasts. We are happy to add, that the exhortation and example of the proprietors have eradicated even the traces of this inhuman belief, of which there might be some observed within the memory of those now alive. It is strange that the minds of men should ever have been hardened towards those involved in a distress to which they themselves were so constantly exposed; but perhaps the constant sight and consciousness of such danger tends to blunt the feelings to its consequences, whether affecting ourselves or others.

Bryce was remarkably tenacious of this ancient belief; the more so, perhaps, that the mounting of his pack depended less upon the ware-houses of Lerwick or Kirkwall, than on the consequences of such a north-western gale as that of the day preceding; for which (being a man who, in his own way, professed great devo

tion) he seldom failed to express his grateful thanks to heaven. It was indeed said of him, that if he had spent the same time in assisting the wrecked seamen, that he had done in rifling their bales and boxes, he would have saved many lives, and lost much linen. He paid no sort of attention to the repeated entreaties of Mordaunt, although he was now upon the same slip of sand with him- well known to Bryce as a place on which the eddy was likely to land such spoils as the ocean disgorged — but occupied himself busily in securing and appropriating whatever seemed most portable and of greatest value. At length Mordaunt saw the honest pedlar fix his views upon a strong seachest, framed of some Indian wood, well secured by brass plates, and seeming to be of a foreign construction. The stout lock resisted all Bryce's efforts to open it, until, with great composure, he plucked from his pocket a very neat hammer and chisel, and began forcing the hinges.

Incensed at his assurance beyond patience, Mordaunt caught up a wooden stretcher which lay near him, and laying his charge softly on the