has been influenced by an envious disposition quite independent of the value attached to his gains. He is a type of a branch of the human family who cannot view with calmness the prosperity of others. Whether this feeling in Hans stopped with the emotion, or whether it has expended itself in crime, remains to be seen.
A RUNAWAY. I was quietly reading on my lounge this morning at two o'clock, when the profound stillness was broken by footsteps in the companion-way. A moment afterward the steward entered without the ceremony of knocking, and stood before me with an atmosphere of alarm about him which seemed to forebode evil. While he was hesitating for speech, I inquired of him what on earth had brought him upon me at this hour. Was the ship on fire? Without heeding my question, he exclaimed,—
"Peter's gone, sir!"
"Gone! Where to?"
"Gone! Run away, sir!"
"Is that all?" and I returned to my book, and bade him go back to his bed.
"It's so, sir! He has run away, sir!"
And sure enough it was so. The earnestness of the steward's manner convinced me at length that something was wrong, and I immediately caused the ship to be searched. But Peter was nowhere to be found. His hammock had not been disturbed since it had been taken down yesterday morning, and he was evidently not in the vessel.
All hands were called, and, while I interrogated the sailors, Jensen obtained what information he could from the Esquimaux. Peter had been on board all the evening, had messed with the men, had smoked
