on a continent at all, is known by the appropriate appellation of the Hermits.  If solitude, and desolation, and want, and a contemplation of some of the sublimest features of this earth, can render a spot fit for a hermitage, these islands are very judiciously named.  The one that is farthest south contains the cape itself, which is marked by the ragged pyramid of rock already mentioned; placed there by nature, a never-tiring sentinel of the war of the elements.  Behind this cluster of the Hermits it was that Stimson advised his officer to take refuge against the approaching gale, of which the signs were now becoming obvious and certain.  Roswell’s motive, however, for listening to such advice, was less to find a shelter for his schooner than to get rid of Daggett.  For the gale he cared but little, since he was a long way from the ice, and could stretch off the land to the southward into a waste of waters that seems interminable.  There are islands to the southward of Cape Horn, and a good many of them too, though none very near.  It is now known, also, by means of the toils and courage of various seamen, including those of the persevering and laborious Wilkes, the most industrious and the least rewarded of all the navigators who have ever worked for the human race in this dangerous and exhausting occupation, that a continent is there also; but, at the period of which we are writing, the existence of the Shetlands and Palmer’s Land was the extent of the later discoveries in that part of the ocean.  After pacing the quarter-deck a few minutes, when he quitted the forecastle as mentioned, Roswell Gardiner again went forward among the men.

“You are quite sure that this high peak is the Horn, Stimson?” he observed, inquiringly.

“Sartain of it, sir.  There’s no mistaking sich a place, which, once seen, is never forgotten.”

“It agrees with the charts and our reckoning, and I may say it agrees with our eyes also.  Here is the Pacific Ocean, plain enough, Mr. Hazard.”

“So I think, sir, We are at the end of Ameriky, if it has an end anywhere.  This heavy long swell is an old acquaintance, though I never was in close enough to see the land, hereabouts, before.”

“It is fortunate we have one trusty hand on board who can stand pilot.  Stimson, I intend to go in and anchor, and I shall trust to you to carry me into a snug berth.”

“I’ll do it, Captain Gar’ner, if the weather will permit it,” returned the seaman, with an unpretending sort of confidence that spoke well for his ability.

Preparations were now commenced in earnest, to come to.  It was time that some steady course should be adopted, as the wind was getting up, and the schooner was rapidly approaching the land.  In half an hour the Sea Lion was bending to a little gale, with her canvass reduced to close-reefed mainsail and foresail, and the bonnet off her jib.  The sea was fast getting up, though it came in long, and mountain-like.  Roswell dreaded the mist.  Could he pass through the narrow channels that Stimson had described to him, with a clear sky, one half of his causes of anxiety would be removed.  But the wind was not a clear one, and he felt that no time was to be lost.