face, she might have been tried for some small act of indiscretion, such for instance as that trifling incident about Naboth; but probably she would have been acquitted, when no doubt she would have left the court without a stain upon her character, and would have been an object of sympathy ever after. This lady has left a numerous family of daughters behind her, many of whom, however, turn over new leaves, and having been considerable sinners, become the most straight-laced, unpitying, and uncharitable of sour-faced saints. Poor Jezebel the first was never given a chance. She lived too soon.

But to the point. The time came when our bold Buccaneer received, as the saying is, his call, and it was brought about in the following manner. In early times when saints walked about the earth calling sinners to repentance, one found his way over to the Buccaneer's island, induced to go there, not by the hope of any worldly gain in the shape of church preferment or salary; and here lies much of the difference between a modern saint and an ancient one. But the one, of whom we wish now particularly to speak, was impelled by the hope of snatching this burning brand from the devil's fire. Some of the Buccaneer's neighbours had tried to convert him before this, by means of the sword, but without effect, for the pirate's nest was a hard one to take, and the eggs burnt the fingers of all those who attempted to touch them.

The precise spot where the saint landed is open to doubt; so is the exact time and the method of his transit. Some declared that he came over on a broomstick. Others again, said he used the ordinary means of conveyance, and this is the most worthy of credence. About saints there is generally something that is legendary. He preached his gospel to the Buccaneer, and told him in the plainest language that he was going to the devil, about whose dominion he drew such a glowing account that the Buccaneer was moved.

He repented, and determined to turn over that wonderful leaf, that the world is for ever hearing so much about, and seeing so little of. To show his earnestness, the Buccaneer built churches and endowed them, and not unfrequently out of the money that he took from other people. This was but right. Belfries rose up in every nook and corner, and their iron tongues could be constantly heard calling all pious buccaneers to prayer.

But that befell the saint which sooner or later must happen to us all. He died, but left behind him a book, which he told the Buccaneer was to be his rule in life, for between its covers there lay the seed of all that was good, and the gentle spirit of one, who though dead would live for ever. The precious gift was handed over to the safe custody of the Buccaneer's church, and the old saint with much sorrow and ceremony was laid in his narrow cell, to await there the sound of the last trump.

CHAPTER III.

The days of mourning were barely over when difficulties arose. The faith left behind by the old saint was extremely good, and even beautiful, but it was not at all adapted to one who occasionally robbed a neighbour's hen-roost. Indeed, it was not at all fitted for one who followed the profession of a bold Buccaneer. It was a trifle hard to sell all that he had and give it to the poor, who might be a lazy lot of skulking rascals. Then who could expect to get on in this world, if, when one cheek was struck he turned the other? Beautiful, yes, but not practical. If our fighting Buccaneer did this sort of thing, every daw from the mainland would invade the nest of the eagle, and peck him to death, and suck his eggs.

Then the command not to lay up riches upon earth; and to live in peace and charity with all men. This was all very well, but then when you are surrounded by a lot of people, who will not live up to these fine sentiments, what is a poor fellow to do?

The Buccaneer had a coxswain, who was his right-hand man, and whose name was Jack Commonsense. He took him into his confidence. Old Jack scratched his head, which was a sure sign that he was in trouble, and he told his master that he did not see any way out of the difficulty, for, if they sailed by the instruction as laid down in the Book the saint had left behind, they had better give up the buccaneering business at once, and try something else. The end of the matter was, that it was handed over to the Buccaneer's Church to settle, for, as he said in his quaint sea-faring language, it's no use keeping a dog if you have to bark yourself. To his clergy he deputed the by no means easy task of shaping a course in accordance with his book, the Bible, and at the same time not altogether antagonistic to his worldly interests. In fact, some kind of a compromise had to be made.

Obedient to the command of their earthly master, the most learned of the Buccaneer's divines assembled together in solemn conclave, and having opened the proceedings with prayer, they fell to arguing upon the grave questions before them. The Scriptures were searched, and very much learning and piety were displayed, and very much heat, with a little temper, was introduced; but there seemed to be little probability of their coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Some said the word must be adhered to, others said that the word killed, and that it was the spirit that must be taken into consideration.

After very much argument, which at times cleft asunder the matter in dispute, thereby forming schism and even sects, a satisfactory conclusion was arrived at, and the foundation was laid of an edifice, which in time was to grow into most beautiful proportions. The foundation rested upon the Book, and the corner stones were those which Christ had laid in Galilee. The superstructure was built to a large extent by human hands, and of earthly material. Still it was a noble edifice, and thus the Buccaneer had manufactured for him a good everyday religion, somewhat worldly perhaps, but eminently suited to his mode of life.

There were slight incongruities, but it mattered little to the subject of our history, and we may presume that he did not see them; or if he did he did not notice them, which answers the same purpose. Such things are at all times more apparent to other people than to those especially interested. Besides, any little shortcomings on the part of the Buccaneer were amply made amends for by his solicitude for the religious welfare of others, whose eternal happiness seemed indeed to be more to him than his own. Wherever he went he took with him his Bible, and as he had not been able to swallow it wholesale himself, he soothed his conscience by thrusting it down the throats of other people. If they would not take it quietly, then he would help them over their difficulty with the point of his sword. It was a principle of his that if people would not go to Heaven, that they must be made to go there, and accordingly he sent a good many to the other world very much against their will, and very much before their time.

This bold Buccaneer was perhaps originally intended for a Mahommedan, but being spoilt in the making he became an indifferent Christian. Tell him this, and it would be wise to clear out at once, and make tracks for the remotest part of the world.

As a matter of course he must follow the example of all other Christian people, and enroll himself under the protection of some saint. Now, whether it was by chance, or whether he was possessed with a grim kind of humour, it would be impossible to say. Indeed, he may have had a genuine admiration for the man. The fact remains that he chose as his patron George of Capadocia, who seems to have done a very good business in the way of bacon. It is at all times a difficult matter to form a true estimate of a character far back in history; but it is probable that the whole saintly calendar does not contain a more disreputable blackguard than this self-same George; but he is now a saint "de mortuis etc.;" the bold Buccaneer having now had a good serviceable religion manufactured for him, and having also