In spite of what Will Dogvane had said to the contrary there was discontent in the Buccaneer's island. Now the sound was far away; now it surged up and dashed against the old gentleman's ears like the angry surf upon the sea-shore. It is necessary to make some little mention yet of the cause of this disaffection. His toilers and his moilers were undoubtedly very much better off than what they had been, and considerably better off than those of many of his neighbours. They earned more wages, and worked less hours, and in recent years wages had increased nearly twofold; but it must be owned that they were less thrifty, and loved too well their pewter pot. His population, however, had increased to such an extent, and other nations had entered into such competition with him, producing many things as good and as cheap, and even very much cheaper, that he had lost the control over the markets of the world, consequently many even of the skilled hands were idle, and for the unskilled, the weakly, and the sick, their case was still harder, yet every mouth had to be fed, and every body clothed. All kinds of medicines were prescribed by the multitude of doctors, who were forever trying to treat the disease. Then behind those above alluded to there came a gang who would only work at cutting throats and picking pockets, and who were always ready to join in any cry, or any movement, that might tend to advance their particular calling.

The carpenter had addressed the family of Hodge on more occasions than one, and he had told them that they were the most pathetic figure in the whole of the Buccaneer's social system, for that they were condemned to unremitting toil, with only the poor-house before them. Alas! that the cry should ever come from honest Hodge that all he asked for was work. This poor fellow does commend himself to the sympathy and compassion of all; for the sunniest side of his life is to work with bent back and horny hands from sun-rise to sun-down. But he was not the most pathetic figure in the Buccaneer's island. Behind him Poverty came struggling along, and with barely food enough to keep body and soul together, brought forth and increased without the slightest thought for the morrow. Pity was forever trying to help her, and over her sad lot she shed an abundance of tears. The old coxswain tried to reason with her; but all to no purpose, she clung to her wretched hovels and held on her own way. Nature took her in hand occasionally, and taught her a lesson in a rough and ready fashion. Our universal mother is not soft-hearted, and she never spoils her children by sparing the rod, so when Poverty's family becomes overcrowded, she works off the surplus by disease, when the guilty and the innocent suffer alike. Is not Mercy to be seen standing in the back ground?

The old Buccaneer thought to find some healing power in the fruit taken from the tree of knowledge, so that Poverty's children partaking thereof might learn somewhat of the blessings of thrift, temperance, industry, and self-denial. But is not the fruit of this tree somewhat like that flower of which a celebrated friar once said:

In the above nature of things lay the root of very much of the discontent. The tools lay ready for the worker's hands. The worker being that human wind bag, called an agitator; one who would find fault with the order of things even in heaven itself.

This wind bag is forever holding up before the eyes of his dupes a picture painted in the most gorgeous colours; plenty without labour, and a general basking in the sunshine of idleness. He points the finger at wealth, and cries out with a loud voice, "There lies the cure for all your suffering; see how high above your heads the rich man looks. Go take, eat and be merry, to-day live, for to-morrow you die." To the empty stomach, and the ragged back this doctrine has a pleasant sound. Neither is it without its effect upon that large multitude who have to earn a scanty living by the sweat of their brow. The uncertainty of the daily bread; the fear of sickness, and the cry of hungry children open the ears sometimes even of the well disposed. Then amongst many other things, man is by nature a lazy animal, and will not work except in rare instances, unless necessity compels him. Take the noble savage of whom honourable mention has already been made. He only hunts by compulsion; for want of food in fact, which, having found, he lies down and sleeps, and idles his time away until necessity prods him in the stomach again, and sends him off to his happy hunting grounds. Man is the same wherever found, and if anybody will provide him with food and clothes, without any exertion on his part he will not say him nay, nor will he show much gratitude. He will soon learn to look upon it as a right.

There were a good many kind-hearted people in the Buccaneer's island who were doing all they could to develop and foster this innate love of idleness. Already the people had their food for the mind given to them free of charge in the shape of free libraries, and soon the cry for free food for the body might be expected to rise up all over the land, to be followed in due course by a demand for community of property. This, indeed, was already being whispered about. It is an unmitigated evil to take from the individual the responsibility of keeping himself, and bringing up his family. He will not work if you do, and the train of poverty becomes increased, and there is no limit to the extension. As the Devil even is supposed at times to quote Scripture, so do the wind bags, who play upon the wants of the people, frequently base their doctrine of universal plunder upon the teachings of Christ. But did not a small band of early Christians try this share and share alike principle? But it did not answer, and see what has come of it. The pomp, magnificence, splendour and wealth of the Roman Catholic Hierarchy with its Priest-King. Who too would think that the pride and majesty of the Buccaneer's State Church with its High Priest clothed in temporal as well as spiritual power took its rise from the teachings of Him, who gathered on the shores of the sea of Galilee a few simple and faithful disciples to whom He preached the doctrine of humility, chastity, poverty, and love, and a charity as bountiful as the rain which falls from heaven on flowers and weeds alike. Did He not say to them "Provide neither gold nor silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, neither shoes, nor yet staves; for the workman is worthy of his meat?" Ah! the meat, sometimes called hire; there lies the rock upon which so many run, and their frail barks are shivered to pieces; allured to their destruction by the songs of a siren called Mammon.

But the priest he has a stomach as well as the layman. He has a back too which must be covered, and he has his many other wants that must be attended to. One has taken to himself a wife, and he would fain have his Lord excuse him, on her account. Another has many children who have to be fed, clothed, and taught, and put out into the world. Then things have changed since the days even of St. Paul. Wages have very much increased, and around religion there has grown surroundings that must be attended to for the sake of the uncrowned queen Respectability. Ask not how all these mighty things have been brought about. Without doubt, the Buccaneer's High Priest or anyone of his learned ecclesiastics could explain all to you in a most satisfactory manner. They would tell you how the Scriptures have to be construed to suit the needs of modern Christians. The mighty "This" has he contracted and the small "That" has to be stretched; but so long as an orthodox priest sits upon the box of your coach and four, it matters little where, and through what he drives.

Briefly, it may be said, that community of property has no charm except for that class of a community known by the name of rogues and vagabonds. Then, as if the very Devil was in it, the Buccaneer's women were beginning to cry out for more liberty, and disaffection seemed to have taken a strong hold upon the female breast. The advanced portion of these wanted to overturn the present order of things, and to put up in its place, a sort of Hen Convention in which women were to have equal rights and apparently man's privileges as well as their own. To tell these women that they had a sphere, was merely to excite their ridicule, and court their contempt. But the strangeness of the thing was, that while the men were crying out because they had not work sufficient to keep them in many cases from starving, the women wanted to increase the difficulty still more by entering the same fields of labour. Of course poor women must live, and if men are so selfish that they will not keep them in the Holy bonds of matrimony, why, the women must keep themselves. It is true that the men did show an indisposition to set upon their hearth a rival, who instead of attending to domestic duties, might give them a political lecture or a discourse upon either ethics, philosophy, or science. The women too out-numbered the men; spinsters growing more numerous every day, and as it is well-known that the mortality amongst the males of all species is far greater than that amongst the females, on account of the greater risk they run, the above evil might be expected to increase rather than diminish, unless nature took the matter in hand and balanced matters by an epidemic amongst the women. But as matters now stood, the conspiracy amongst the Buccaneer's female sex bid fair to be far more serious than that of the cook's caboose.

It has been said that the man who allows a woman to usurp his authority is in a pitiful condition, for that it shows he has lost somewhat of his manhood. One thing is certain, the woman he has to live with will not respect him, and it is more than probable that she will take the earliest opportunity to show her contempt. It is still worse when this applies not to an individual here and there, but to the majority of a people.

What voice is that crying out that we insult the whole of womanhood? Good lady, if you cast aside your bodkin, and take up the weapons that have hitherto been considered as peculiar to man, you must not cry out when you feel yourself injured. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. "A foolish woman is clamorous; but a good woman retaineth honour." So said one, who is accounted the wisest man that ever lived.

It does not appear that the true position of woman in the world's economy has yet been clearly defined. She was once man's slave. She is now supposed, in all civilised countries, to be his helpmate and companion, and in the Buccaneer's island she showed a strong disposition to become his rival. Poetry has assigned to her a place amongst the angels; reality, on the other hand, has frequently given her a place amongst the devils. Then again she is supposed to be weak and fragile, but though she may not be able to walk a mile in pure fresh air, she will dance many, and several nights a week in the fetid atmosphere of a ball-room. Although she takes little or no healthy exercise, the general woman's appetite is good if not absolutely robust, and although they are all more or less invalids, they generally outlive man. A recent philosopher amongst the Buccaneer's people had said, when speaking of woman, that though eminently adapted to that position for which God apparently intended her, she is not from her constitution and make, adapted to take man's place in the world, and by attempting such a thing all concerned must lose. Unfortunately, the Buccaneer's advanced women did not seem to see this, and they seemed disposed to quarrel with the work of our Creator. The woman's character is conflicting. When she is drawn by her sister, she does not at times appear in too beautiful colours; for she is frequently depicted as vain, silly, jealous, weak, cruel and revengeful, often kissing the sister she intends to stab, and in this resembling somewhat those reptiles which slobber over the victim they intend to devour. But is it the model or the artist who is at fault?

From history we learn that the presence of woman upon the earth has not been an unmixed blessing, for she seems to have caused as much sorrow as ever she has joy, and the estimation in which she was held in ancient Biblical times is pretty well manifested by the author of the Mosaic Cosmogony, who attributes to her the damnation of the whole human race. Through her first act of disobedience man first tasted of the cup of misery, and she has been holding the cup to his lips ever since. Constituted as woman is, was it not cruel to place an injunction on that fatal tree? for, tell a woman not to do a thing and she is pretty certain to do it. Of course our first father did not act over honourably. If he had been imbued with the principles of modern chivalry he would have screened Eve; have sworn, perhaps, that she was not at all to blame, and finished up by flinging the apple at the tempter's head. But man ever had, and always will have an ungodly stomach, and so Adam took the apple and did eat. Notwithstanding the chivalry aforesaid it is generally believed that there are more Adams in the world now than what there are Josephs, and if the trial of the apple came over again, man would fall even as he fell before, though he were to be ten times more damned. It is a thousand and one pities that the arch Fiend did not wait until Eve had become a little old and ugly, for then Adam might have refused the apple and the whole human race might have been saved.

The Essenes would not marry, not because they denied the validity of the institution or its necessity, but because they were convinced of the artfulness and fickleness of the female sex. Then again, the Buddhist believed, if he does not believe, that no woman could attain a state of supreme perfection. The accomplished woman becomes man.

Read where we will, and what we will, and let us bend our steps whither we like, and we find that woman is generally believed to be at the bottom of everything. We are told that Metellus Numidicus, the censor, acknowledged to the Roman people in a public oration that had kind nature allowed us to exist without the help of women, we should be delivered from a very troublesome companion. But, though man still growls, poets still sing about woman, lovely woman, and though man sometimes finds her a devil, painters still depict her in the form of an angel, and man's imagination fills heaven with beings in her shape and likeness.

To be just; has not woman somewhat to complain of? Was she not made after man, and, as some think, of the refuse material? Then again has she not been sent into the world with, on an average, five ounces less brains than the allowance given to man? And has she not, from the very beginning, been obliged to bear patiently, and for the most part with meekness, all these slights and insults? And to finish, was she not made as a meet and fitting companion for man? Who will be so impious as to say that she was spoilt in the making? Alas! we cannot do without her; no matter how uncomfortable we may at times be with her; and a smile, or a tear, on a pretty face will blot out and efface all the splutterings that fall from the pen of ill nature.

What man is there who has not created in his mind some womanly idol, and here often lies the misfortune; for idols will fall and break into thousands of pieces; but until the catastrophe happens, we worship at our shrine and look upon fair forms with heavenly faces; bright radiance is shed over every feature, and we are in an atmosphere free from all impurity. We look up to and adore a being whose soul is never clouded by a base thought; whose chaste and cherry lips never give utterance to a tainted word. One who can be pure without being a prude; gentle and charitable without there being a suspicion even of foolishness; one who can be sensible without being masculine, and innocent without being a vain and frivolous idiot.

Do I dream? Hush then! do not wake me. Let me wander on, if only for a brief space in the realms of fancy. I will build for myself castles, and will people them with fair fantasies. What lovely faces do I see! fit indexes for pure and intelligent minds. Complexions never touched by the paint soiled fingers of Art, but as delicate as the petals of a lily, with the faint blush of the setting sun resting upon them, the whole crowned with a woman's glory dipped in sunshine and not in dye. What lovely forms, clothed in silver sheen and girdled with golden belts made in the armoury of the King of Day!