would be met by the consequent increase of the
General Fund, so that the slender endowment
really would give us for good and all the use of
an institution that has few equals for its practical
union of many uses with a most beneficent
design.

           MURDER BY MISTAKE.

IT was my fortune, in the year eighteen
hundred and——, to be quartered with my
regiment in the Bermudas, that picturesque
group of coral-formed islands, which, by a
corruption of the name of Sir George Summers,
the first governor of the colony, who was
shipwrecked there, has erroneously been called
"The Summer Isles." In one respect, indeed,
the name is not misapplied, for, so far as climate
is concerned, eternal summer reigns throughout
the year, the coldest winds from the north, in
January and February, only reducing the
mercury in the thermometer to the level of
"temperate," while, for the remaining ten months,
the heat of the dog-star rages.

Seen, as I saw the islands first, they present
an aspect of incomparable beauty. Navigation,
as practised on board the old transports, was
not always a science of extreme accuracy, and
the tub which contained the head-quarters of
the regiment to which I belonged made the
southern shore of the principal Bermudian
island first, instead of bearing down upon it
from the opposite quarter, seeing that we had
sailed from the north, our port of departure
being Halifax, in Nova Scotia. It was about
noon when we came in sight of a low range of
cedar-covered hills, separated from the deep
water on which we floated by a long ominous
line of surf, and knew that we had reached the
"still-vext Bermoothes,"—called by their first
discoverers, the Spaniards, "Los Diabolos,"
and believed by all mariners to be inhabited by
devils and other evil spirits, until the true
relation of "Edward Strachey, Esq." (A. D. 1610).
swept away the tradition, and "delivered the
world from a foule and dangerous errour." The
wind being light, we coasted slowly along this
breaker-beaten shore, keeping the coral reefs at
a most respectful distance, and it was only as
the day declined—a native pilot having meanwhile
come on board—that we found ourselves
abreast of an entrance to the great harbour,
practicable only for small boats. As the transport
could not reach the proper channel till
the following morning, a small party of us,
impelled by the natural impatience of landsmen
to get on shore, availed ourselves of the pilot's
boat, and left the ship that evening. The moon
rose soon after we quitted the vessel, and was
fast climbing the skies, when the boat shot
beneath the steep cliff of a frontier island
crowned by a ruinous fort. Just then the
breeze fell, and we lay becalmed, but only for a
few moments, oars being quickly out to supply
the want of sail. The scene was one of extreme
loveliness, and presented an effect almost
theatrical, so sudden was the change within the
rocky barrier. The dazzling moonlight fell on
snow-white walls of scattered cottages, half
buried in thickets of perfumed cedars; the clear
blue heavens were fretted with golden stars of
unusual size; the sea sparkled round our track,
and was dashed in gleams of fire from the boatmen's
oars; and our way lay amongst innumerable
islets, whose outline was marked by the
graceful foliage of the feathery palmetto. A
mind filled with poetical ideas, such as that of a
young man of two-and-twenty, with no more
knowledge of the world than usually belongs to
that age, might readily have fancied that in a
fairy region like this no evil could possibly
dwell, but youthful impressions by moonlight
are not the safest to rely upon.

For nearly a couple of hours we threaded our
course through this bay of islands till a wider
harbour opened before us, and lying in a
complete amphitheatre of cedar-crowned hills, the
glittering town of St. George's came in sight.
This was our destination, and, after answering
the challenge of the sentinel posted on the
landing wharf, we stepped on shore, admiring
the beauty and perfect tranquillity of the place.
It was a small square, surrounded on three
sides by lofty white buildings, each with its
broad dark green balcony, and shaded by rows
of that graceful tree called locally "The Pride
of India," a species of Fraxinus, whose leaves
resemble the mountain ash, and whose lilac
flowers cluster like those of the laburnum. We
involuntarily stopped before the largest of these
houses, hoping that it was the hotel, but we
were mistaken; it was only the residence of
one of the leading merchants of St. George's,
its doors hospitably open as those of an inn to
all comers by daylight, but at that hour closed
in the peaceful sleep that wrapped the whole
town. It was not very long afterwards that
this quiet spot presented a very different
appearance.

Garrison towns, in small colonies like the
Bermudas, owe their chief social attraction to
the free intercourse which prevails between the
military and official occupants and the wealthier
storekeepers. There was, at the period I am
speaking of, the Government House for great
occasions, but the real enjoyment of society was
mainly to be found in the pleasant abodes of
the mercantile community. Foremost of this
class in St. George's was a gentleman named
F——, the portal of whose house might well
have borne the inscription which I have seen
in one of the old Italian cities,—Sienna, if I
remember rightly,—where "Patet janua, cor
magis" assures the guests that the heart offers
even a readier welcome than the unclosed
entrance. This generous-minded man was
everybody's friend, less for the sake of his large
hospitality than for the personal merits by
which he was distinguished. He was of a frank
and cheerful nature, by no means unlettered,
though a very slight acquaintance with books
went a long way in those islands, and was