We glided most agreeably upon the lake until we left the strait of Quinanbutasan, but, once there, we met with so violent an east wind, and the water of the lake was so ruffled, that we were obliged to re-enter the strait, and cast anchor near the cabin of the old fisherman, Relempago, whom I have already noticed. Our sailors landed to prepare their supper; as for ourselves, we remained in our boat, where we stretched ourselves at our ease, the old fisherman, as he sat doubled up in the Indian fashion, amusing us in the best way he could by the narration of brigand stories. I interrupted him all on a sudden, saying to him: "Relempago, I should prefer hearing the history of your own personal adventures; do, therefore, relate your misfortunes to us." The old fisherman heaved a sigh, and then, unwilling to disoblige me, began his story in the poetical terms so familiar to the Tagal tongue, and which it is almost impossible to reproduce by a translation: "Lagune is not my native place," said he; "I was born in the island of Zébou, and was at the age of twenty what is called a fine young man; but, pray believe me, I was by no means proud of my physical advantages, and I preferred being the first fisherman of my village. Nevertheless, my comrades were jealous of me, and all that because the young girls would look at me with a certain complaisant air, and seemed to find me to their liking." I could not but smile at this frank avowal of the old man, which he perceiving, continued: "I tell you these things, sir," replied he, "because at my age one can speak of them without fearing to appear ridiculous--it is so long ago. And besides, allow me to inform you that I relate to you such things, not from vanity--Oh, no! but merely to furnish you with an exact recital. Besides, the sly and roguish looks that young girls threw at me, as I passed through the village, flattered me in no manner. I was in love with Theresa, sir; yes, I was passionately in love with her, and my love was returned, for fondly did she love me; a look from any other but from her was totally indifferent to me. Ah! Theresa was the prettiest lass in the village! but, poor soul! she has done like myself--she has greatly altered; for years are an enormous weight, which bends and breaks you down in spite of yourself, and against which there is no way of struggling. "When, seated as I am at present, I bethink me of the fine by-gone days of my youth--of the strength, the courage, that we used to find in our mutual affection--Oh! I shed tears of regret and sensibility. Where are now those fine--those happy days? Gone, gone, gone! they have fled before the piercing and terrible winds that forerun the storms and the hurricanes. Like the day, life has its dawn; like the day, also, it has its decline!"