nest of pirates,” as the Portuguese Commander-in-Chief had described his expedition in advance. None of the prisoners were plundered, but, on the contrary, the pirate captains invited to their table the officers of the captured ship, and congratulated them upon their courage and ability. For some months after this nothing occurred to interrupt the quiet of the colony. Finally, wearying of inactivity, Tew took the _Victoire_ and three hundred men and sailed in search of prizes. Sixty miles from Libertaita he found a strange colony of buccaneers. The ship hove to and the Captain went ashore alone to make the acquaintance of the strangers. While he was absent from the ship a great gale rose and blew the _Victoire_ ashore on a dangerous reef; she went down before his eyes, carrying with her every man of the crew. This was not the end of misfortune, for a few nights afterwards the two Libertaitan sloops appeared, and from one of them Misson came ashore with disastrous news. The same night that the _Victoire_ went down the natives had risen and destroyed Libertaita; Misson had saved a quantity of diamonds and bar gold, and fled in the sloops with the remnant of his band; they were now without a ship and without a haven. The plunder and the men were equally divided between the sloops, and the two captains sailed in company for the coast of America. Misson’s vessel went down with all hands in a gale off Cape Infantes, but Tew made a peaceful voyage to the British colonies. He settled in Rhode Island, dispersed his crew, and lived for a time unquestioned with his wealth. He might have reached an honored old age, with nothing to recall the memories of his past, but at the end of a few years he was persuaded to go once more “on the account.” In the Red Sea he engaged a ship of the Great Mogul, vastly his superior in size and armament. During the action Tew received a mortal wound, but fought on as long as he could stand. When he fell his men became terrified, and suffered themselves to be taken without resistance. They were all hanged; and so ended the last of the Libertaitans. XII THE VROUW VAN TWINKLE’S KRULLERS A Story of Old New York Clean, snug, and picturesque as a Holland town was our city of New York for some years after it had dropped its juvenile name of New Amsterdam and adopted its present name; but not so suddenly could it change its nature and Dutch ways. Dutch neatness and the Dutch tongue still reigned supreme. Substantial wooden houses turned gable ends of black and yellow Holland bricks to the front, until Pearl Street appeared like a triumphal procession of chess-boards; while no mansion in that then fashionable quarter could boast more big doors and small windows than that of the worthy burgher Van Twinkle, and the little weathercock on the roof was as giddy as any of its neighbors, and as undecided as to which way the wind actually did blow.