What am I? I am a whitened sepulchre; a cloak which covers a multitude of sins. Who am I? I am a masquerader, a thorough hypocrite and a Pharisee, for I am a worshipper of forms and ceremonies. I move in the very best society. I am a stickler for social laws and etiquette, and I love a lord. I am the guardian of public morals, and in all my dealings I exercise a strict propriety, and I punish severely, not so much the crime, as its detection. At church I am regularly to be seen; but I worship more in public than in private, my devotion being more to attract the attention of my fellow beings than for the sake of God. If I pray, it is openly. If I give, it is before the eyes of all men. It is not so much to me what I am as what I appear to be. On my way home from church I put on a demure, and downcast look, and enjoy in secret my worldly thoughts. I contemplate with inward pleasure, though I outwardly condemn, the shortcomings and failings of my neighbours. I put a check on honest, robust mirth, for its loud, and consequently vulgar laugh offends me. I keep aloof from all questionable society. A poor relation I never see, should he present himself at my door, I promptly have him kicked into the gutter. I dread the touch of an impure hand; but when in the society of the great I sometimes condescend to visit the slums of the poor, though the atmosphere is not congenial to me. An erring sister I pass by as the priest and Levite did the man who fell amongst thieves. I am a social tyrant, more feared perhaps than loved, though few are so independent as not to pay me homage. To the indiscretions of the great I am a little blind, for the vices of the vulgar crowd I show no pity. The nakedness of the fashionable world does not distress me; but immodesty amongst the common herd I visit with my severest displeasure. I keep my eye on all my neighbours; should any of them trip, unless they are saved by their position I let slip my dogs and hound the miscreants outside my social pale. I ride rough shod over society, and no one dares to turn upon me. Who am I? I am society's uncrowned queen, Respectability.

It would be difficult to say at what precise period this uncrowned queen took up her abode under the roof of the bold Buccaneer; but she did, and winked at his goings on; because she looked upon him not as a robber, but as a brave sea-king, who went in quest of venture, and was far removed from the common and vulgar thief. There are other reasons which perhaps induced her to take him under her protection. The Buccaneering business was beginning to fall off, probably because other people had taken to it more thoroughly, and it is well known that competition interferes considerably with the very best of trades and professions. It is possible also that our friend having made a large fortune, was beginning to see the truth of the maxim, that honesty is the best policy. Property does undoubtedly alter ideas; take the most rabid socialist, who is for ever preaching a community of interests and endow him with a fortune, and the burden of his song is speedily changed and in a most wonderful manner. Before it was, "I take," but now it is, "I hold."

The Buccaneer's wealth had steadily increased, and so had his towns and cities. The hum from a busy multitude rose up like the murmur of the distant ocean as it dashed against the rock-bound coast. On his rivers and bays he had built dockyards, and his shipwrights' hammers could be heard sounding over the waters far and wide. His ships became celebrated for their build and rig, and his sailors were considered not only the bravest, but the most skilled in all the world.

He was a man of great resource and enterprise, was our Buccaneer, and when he found the one business falling off he at once turned his hand to another. If no one wanted either beating or robbing, they wanted their merchandise carried, so he became a carrier to the universe at large, and combined with it the business of trader. One thing begets another, and he soon found out other industries. Tall, tapering chimnies pointed like great black fingers far into the sky and vomited out thick volumes of black smoke. Then he built mills, and put up machinery, and the rattle of thousands of wheels could be heard all over the land, and the uncrowned queen moved about amongst his people and leavened them. But even in his peaceful pursuits the natural bent of his genius discovered itself, for he would frequently, for the want of a more worthy object, steal an idea from a neighbour and then set himself to work to improve upon it, and he generally turned it to good account. The Buccaneer's mind was not inventive, but it was eminently adaptive, and this is very much better, because it generally manages to suck the marrow out of the bones of genius.

Having been the greatest Buccaneer that ever ploughed the briny ocean, he now became a mighty trader—a fighting one perhaps;—fetched and carried for the whole world, and became in fact a universal provider. He often built and fitted out a ship for some neighbour who turned her guns against him; but he did not mind so long as he got his price, and he not unfrequently got the ship back into the bargain in fair and open fight. So things went merrily on.

As is well known success breeds envy and jealousy, and the Buccaneer's neighbours soon began to eye his superior good fortune with hatred and much uncharitableness. They said all kinds of hard things, as people will. Said his gains were ill gotten. But who will ever believe that vast wealth has been honestly acquired? Somebody must have been robbed say they. But if it is only a fool what matter? He and his money must sooner or later part company. At least, so it is said by those people who know everything.

The Buccaneer, of course, put his prosperity down to a different cause. He was a God-fearing and good man. Went to his church regularly; gave of what he had to the poor; and sheltered himself under the cloaks of Respectability and Religion. It is true he could not altogether divest himself of his buccaneering tendencies, and on one occasion he even robbed a church, which is considered about the last thing a man ought to do; but then if he did rob Peter he made ample amends by paying Paul very handsomely. That the Buccaneer was innately a most pious man there can be little if any doubt; he had none himself. He loved to carry his religion with him into his everyday life, and even into his business, and in this perhaps we see the reason why he selected George of Cappadocia as his patron saint. He loved to adulterate, as it were, all his merchandise with it, and he succeeded in a marvellous manner. He was very fond of texts taken from his Book, and these he would hang up in all suitable and unsuitable places. He regulated his trading transactions with his neighbours upon the principle laid down in the parable of the talents, and he took for his especial guide the man who turned his five pieces into ten; for he considered he must have been an excellent man of business; a clever fellow in fact, and one well worthy to be followed. No doubt the parable above alluded to has carried comfort to the soul of many a Jew, Turk, and even infidel. Trade is at all times, and in all places, and by all people, considered for some reason or the other dirty work, and yet it is the founder of great families, who, however, try as soon as possible, to blot out all recollection of the source of their greatness. Trade, too, is the founder and supporter of great nations. Why then is there such a prejudice against it? Is it not honest? Is its first principle, namely, to try and get the better of your neighbour in a bargain, condemned by a virtuous world? Scarcely, for to do your neighbour, to prevent the possibility of being done by him, seems to be implanted firmly in the human breast. It is a principle, in fact, which is well adhered to, and it helps considerably that law of nature which demands the survival of the fittest. Perhaps it was as a precautionary measure that the Buccaneer besprinkled himself, as it were, with holy water, before entering upon his everyday life.