One pleasant afternoon in summer, Frank Costello jumped into his little boat, and pulling her out of the narrow creek where she lay moored, crept along the iron-bound shore until he reached the entrance of one of those deep sea-caves, so common upon the western coast of Ireland. To the gloomy recesses of these natural caverns, millions of sea-fowl resort during the breeding season; and it was among the feathered tribes then congregated in the "Puffin Cave," that Frank meant, on that evening, to deal death and destruction. Gliding, with lightly-dipping oars, into the yawning chasm, he stepped nimbly from his boat, and making the painter fast to a projecting rock, he lighted a torch, and, armed only with a stout cudgel, penetrated into the innermost recesses of the cavern. There he found a vast quantity of birds and eggs, and soon became so engrossed with his sport that he paid no attention to the lapse of time, until the hollow sound of rushing waters behind him made him aware that the tide, which was ebbing when he entered the cave, had turned, and was now rising rapidly. His first impulse was to return to the spot where he had made his boat fast; but how was he horrified on perceiving that the rock to which it had been secured was now completely covered with water. He might, however, still have reached it by swimming; but, unfortunately, the painter, by which it was attached to the rock, not having sufficient scope, the boat, on the rising of the tide, was drawn, stern down, to a level with the water; and Frank, as he beheld her slowly fill and disappear beneath the waves, felt as if the last link between the living world and himself had been broken. To go forward was impossible; and he well knew that there was no way of retreating from the cave, which, in a few hours, would be filled by the advancing tide. His heart died within him, as the thought of the horrid fate which awaited him flashed across his mind. He was not a man who feared to face death; by flood or field, on the stormy sea and the dizzy cliff, he had dared it a thousand times with perfect unconcern; but to meet the grim tyrant there, alone, to struggle hopelessly with him for life in that dreary tomb, was more than his fortitude could bear. He shrieked aloud in the agony of despair--the torch fell from his trembling hand into the dark waters that gurgled at his feet, and, flashing for a moment upon their inky surface, expired with a hissing sound, that fell like a death-warning upon his ear. The wind, which had been scarcely felt during the day, began to rise with the flowing of the tide, and now drove the tumultuous waves with hoarse and hideous clamor into the cavern. Every moment increased the violence of the gale that howled and bellowed as it swept around the echoing roof of that rock-ribbed prison; while the hoarse dash of the approaching waves, and the shrill screams of the sea-birds that filled the cavern, formed a concert of terrible dissonance, well suited for the requiem, of the hapless wretch who had been enclosed in that living grave! But the love of life, which makes us cling to it in the most hopeless extremity, was strong in Frank Costello's breast; his firmness and presence of mind gradually returned, and he resolved not to perish without a struggle. He remembered that, at the farther extremity of the cavern, the rock rose like a flight of rude stairs, sloping from the floor to the roof; he had often clambered up those rugged steps, and he knew that, by means of them, he could place himself at an elevation above the reach of the highest tide. But the hope thus suggested was quickly damped when he reflected that a deep fissure, which ran perpendicularly through the rock, formed a chasm ten feet in width, in the floor of the cavern, between him and his place of refuge. The tide, however, which was now rising rapidly, compelled him to retire every instant, further into the cavern, and he felt that the only chance he had left him for life was to endeavor to cross the chasm. He was young, active, and possessed of uncommon courage, and he had frequently, by torch-light, leaped across the abyss, in the presence of his companions, few of whom dared to follow his example. But now, alone and in utter darkness, how was he to attempt such a perilous feat? The conviction that death was inevitable if he remained where he was, decided him. Collecting a handful of loose pebbles from one of the numerous channels in the floor, he proceeded cautiously over the slippery rocks, throwing at every step a pebble before him, to ascertain the security of his footing. At length he heard the stone, as it fell from his fingers, descend with a hollow, clattering noise, that continued for several seconds. He knew he was standing on the brink of the chasm. One quick and earnest prayer he breathed to the invisible Power, whose hand could protect him in that dread moment--then, retiring a single pace, and screwing every nerve and muscle in his body to the utmost tension, he made a step in advance, and threw himself forward into the dark and fearful void. Who can tell the whirlwind of thought that rushed through his brain in the brief moment that he hung above that yawning gulf? Should he have miscalculated his distance, or chosen a place where the cleft was widest--should his footing fail, or his strength be unequal to carry him over, what a death were his! Dashed down that horrible abyss--crashing from rock to rock, until he lay at the bottom a mutilated corpse. The agony of years was crowded into one moment--in the next, his feet struck against the firm rock on the opposite side of the chasm, and he was saved. At least, he felt that he had for the moment escaped the imminent peril in which he was placed, and, as he clambered joyfully up the rugged slope at the end of the cave, he thought little of the dangers he had still to encounter. All through that long night he sat on the narrow ledge of a rock, while the angry waves thundered beneath, and cast their cold spray every instant over him. With the ebbing of the tide, the sea receded from the cavern; but Frank hesitated to attempt crossing the chasm again; his limbs had become stiff and benumbed, and his long abstinence had so weakened his powers that he shrank from the dangerous enterprise. While giving way to the most desponding reflections, a stentorian hilloa rang and echoed through the cavern; and never had the human voice sounded so sweetly in his ear. He replied to it with a thrilling shout of joy, and, in a few minutes, several persons with torches appeared advancing. A plank was speedily thrust across the fissure, and Frank Costello once more found himself amid a group of his friends, who were warmly congratulating him upon his miraculous escape. They told him that, from his not having returned home the preceding night, it was generally concluded that he had been drowned, and a party of his neighbors proceeded in a boat, early in the morning, in search of his body. On reaching "Puffin Hole," they discovered his boat fastened to a rock, and full of water, as she had remained on the ebbing of the tide. This circumstance induced them to examine the cavern narrowly, and the happy result of their search is already known.