To me all Nature whispers,
And the grass and the flowers reply,
The old, the eternal chorus—
"We live, we love, we die."

HOLIDAY ROMANCE.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

IN FOUR PARTS.

PART III.

ROMANCE. FROM THE PEN OF LIEUTENANT-COLONEL
ROBIN REDFORTH.*
*Aged Nine.

THE subject of our present narrative would
appear to have devoted himself to the Pirate
profession at a comparatively early age. We find
him in command of a splendid schooner of one
hundred guns, loaded to the muzzle, 'ere yet he
had had a party in honour of his tenth birthday.

It seems that our hero, considering himself
spited by a Latin-Grammar-Master, demanded
the satisfaction due from one man of honour to
another. Not getting it, he privately withdrew
his haughty spirit from such low company,
bought a second-hand pocket-pistol., folded up
some sandwiches in a paper bag, made a bottle
of Spanish liquorice-water, and entered on a
career of valour.

It were tedious to follow Boldheart (for such
was his name) through the commencing stages
of his history. Suffice it that we find him bearing
the rank of Captain Boldheart, reclining in
full uniform on a crimson hearth-rug spread out
upon the quarter deck of his schooner the
Beauty, in the China Seas. It was a lovely evening,
and as his crew lay grouped about him, he
favoured them with the following melody:

                  O landsmen are folly,
                  O Pirates are jolly,
                  O Diddleum Dolly
                                             Di!
                              (Chorus) Heave yo.

The soothing effect of these animated sounds
floating over the waters, as the common sailors
united their rough voices to take up the rich
tones of Boldheart, may be more easily conceived
than described.

It was under these circumstances that the
look-out at the mast-head gave the word,
"Whales!"

All was now activity.

"Where away?" cried Captain Boldheart,
starting up.

"On the larboard bow, sir," replied the
fellow at the mast-head, touching his hat. For
such was the height of discipline on board the
Beauty, that even at that height he was obliged
to mind it or be shot through the head.

"This adventure belongs to me," said Boldheart.
"Boy, my harpoon. Let no man
follow;" and leaping alone into his boat, the
captain rowed with admirable dexterity in the
direction of the monster.

All was now excitement.

"He nears him!" said an elderly seaman,
following the captain through his spy-glass.

"He strikes him!" said another seaman, a
mere stripling, but also with a spy-glass.

"He tows him towards us!" said another
seaman, a man in the full vigour of life, but also
with a spy-glass.

In fact the captain was seen approaching,
with the huge bulk following. We will not
dwell on the deafening cries of "Boldheart!
Boldheart!" with which he was received, when,
carelessly leaping on the quarter-deck, he
presented his prize to his men. They afterwards
made two thousand four hundred and seventeen
pound ten and sixpence by it.

Ordering the sails to be braced up, the
captain now stood W.N.W. The Beauty flew
rather than floated over the dark blue waters.
Nothing particular occurred for a fortnight,
except taking, with considerable slaughter, four
Spanish galleons and a Snow from South
America, all richly laden. Inaction began to tell
upon the spirits of the men. Captain Boldheart
called all hands aft, and said:
"My lads, I hear there are discontented
ones among ye. Let any such stand forth."

After some murmuring, in which the expressions,
"Aye, aye, sir," "Union Jack,"
"Avast," " Starboard," " Port," " Bowsprit,"
and similar indications of a mutinous
undercurrent, though subdued, were audible, Bill
Boozey, captain of the foretop, came out from
the rest. His form was that of a giant, but
he quailed under the captain's eye.

"What are your wrongs?" said the captain.

"Why, d'ye see, Captain Boldheart,"
returned the towering mariner, "I've sailed
man and boy for many a year, but I never
yet know'd the milk served out for the ship's
company's teas to be so sour as 'tis aboard this
craft."

At this moment the thrilling cry, "Man
overboard!" announced to the astonished
crew that Boozey, in stepping back as the
captain (in mere thoughtfulness) laid his hand upon
the faithful pocket-pistol which he wore in his
belt, had lost his balance, and was struggling
with the foaming tide.

All was now stupefaction.

But, with Captain Boldheart, to throw off his
uniform coat regardless of the various rich
orders with which it was decorated, and to
plunge into the sea after the drowning giant,
was the work of a moment. Maddening was the
excitement when boats were lowered; intense
the joy when the captain was seen holding up
the drowning man with his teeth; deafening
the cheering when both were restored to the
main deck of the Beauty. And from the instant
of his changing his wet clothes for dry ones
Captain Boldheart had no such devoted though
humble friend as William Boozey.

Boldheart now pointed to the horizon, and
called the attention of his crew to the taper
spars of a ship lying snug in harbour under the
guns of a fort.

"She shall be ours at sunrise," said he.
"Serve out a double allowance of grog, and
prepare for action."

All was now preparation.