the sand that had accumulated round the old ribs. Suddenly, the tin rim of
one of the pots gave back a ringing sound, as if it had struck against
metal, and in less than a minute, a much rusted cannon-shot was exposed to
view, and passed round from hand to hand. It was of small size, weighing,
perhaps, five pounds, though its dimensions were evidently much decreased
by the wasting action of damp.

"By Jove!" said Dunmore, "perhaps she was a Spanish galleon, and we shall
come across her treasure. Won't that be a find, eh, old fellow?"

"She's more likely a pirate," I answered, as visions of the old buccaneers
floated through my brain; and Edgar Poe's fanciful story of the "Gold
Beetle" occurring to me, I sung out, "Whatever you do, keep any parchment
you stumble across," and abandoned myself to thoughts of untold wealth,
whilst I wielded a quart pot with the energy born of mental excitement.

"My word! that been big fellow sit down like 'it here," cried Ferdinand,
who, lying on one side, had his bare arm buried at full length in the sand.
"I feel him, Marmy, plenty cold."

We rushed to the boy's assistance, and speedily scraped away the shingle,
until an old-fashioned gun was exposed to view; it was coated and scaly
with rust to such an extent, that we were unable to form any idea as to its
age or nationality. It would most probably have been a twelve or
eighteen-pounder howitzer, for it was about four feet in length, and
disproportionately large in girth; but one of the trunnions, and the button
at the breech, were broken off, the portion that had lain undermost had
entirely disappeared, and the remainder was so honeycombed, that beyond
ascertaining that it was a piece of ordnance, we could elicit nothing from
this curious relic of a bygone generation.