The third piece of iron was just about to be thrown; but at the same moment the lieutenant took aim. The shot was fired. During the long chase and the attack which followed it, the sun had been approaching the horizon, and now might be seen one of those beautiful sunsets which so often delight the eye on this blue-green sea. They are the counterpart of the autumn apparitions during the dark fogs, when the ships wander about seeking their way among the cliffs, then glimmering whitely, and now shining red. Worthy the inspiration of poet and painter, this warm, divinely peaceful, and lovely scene of nature offered a new, bitter contrast to the terrible picture which human passion and the claims of duty had conjured with lightning speed into these two spots in the sea--the smugglers' boat and the Custom-house yacht. The shot was fired, and the mighty giant of Mörkö, Olagus Esbjörnsson, sank back into the tarpaulin. "The accursed devil has shot right into my heart!" Pale as death, Tuve sprang forward, and wanted to stay the blood. "Leave it alone," panted Olagus. "It is no use. Give my love to father and Britje; she was a good wife. You must be a father to--my boy. The business may cease." The subduing touch of death had already extinguished the wild light which the fire of hatred had kindled in these eyes. And the last glance that sought his brother's gaze was gentle. Suddenly he was once more fired by the remembrance of the earthly life which was fast retreating from him. "Quickly away with the cargo! No one must know that Olagus Esbjörnsson fell from a shot out of the Custom-house yacht. I--I--fell upon them." They were his last words. Tuve's head fell, sobbing, on the man whom he had so completely honored as his superior. Tuve was now the first in Mörkö, and as though a stronger spirit had come over him, he began to feel his duty. He rose, and gave orders to turn toward the sea, but the crew stood motionless with terror. THOMAS CARLYLE (1795-1881) BY LESLIE STEPHEN