While speaking to his crew, Tiller had changed the direction of the boat; and it was soon lying, in obedience to a motion of his hand, directly beneath the wild and significant-looking image, just described. The letters in red were now distinctly visible; and when Alderman Van Beverout had adjusted his spectacles, each of the party read the following sentence:— “Albeit, I neither lend nor borrow, By taking, nor by giving of excess, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I’ll break a custom.” Merchant of Venice. “The brazen!” exclaimed Myndert, when he had got through this quotation from the immortal bard. “Ripe or green, one could not wish to be the friend of so impudent a thing; and then to impute such sentiments to any respectable commercial man whether of Venice or of Amsterdam! Let us board the brigantine, friend mariner, and end the connexion ere foul mouths begin to traduce our motives for the visit.” “The over-driven ship plows the seas too deep for speed; we shall get into port, in better season without this haste. Wilt take another look into the dark lady’s pages? A woman’s mind is never known at the first answer!” The speaker raised the rattan he still carried, and caused a page of painted metal to turn on hinges that were so artfully concealed as not to be visible. A new surface, with another extract, was seen. “What is it, what is it, Patroon?” demanded the burgher, who appeared greatly to distrust the discretion of the sorceress. “Follies and rhymes! but this is the way of the whole sex; when nature has denied them tongues, they invent other means of speech.” “Porters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about; Thrice to thine, and thrice to thine, And thrice again to make up nine.” “Rank nonsense!” continued the burgher! “It is well for those who can, to add thrice and thrice to their stores; but look you, Patroon—it is a thriving trade that can double the value of the adventure, and that with reasonable risks, and months of patient watching.” “We have other pages,” resumed Tiller, “but our affairs drag for want of attending to them. One may read much good matter in the book of the sorceress, when there is leisure and opportunity. I often take occasion, in the calms, to look into her volume; and it is rare to find the same moral twice told, as these brave seamen can swear.” The mariners at the oars confirmed this assertion, by their grave and believing faces; while their superior caused the boat to quit the place, and the image of the Water-Witch was left floating in solitude above her proper element.