Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1128) (1902 08)

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& ( x Cy . \ We WO” ANH Copyricut, 1877, sy BrapLE & ApDAms. No. 1128 The Sea Serpent; THE BOY ROBINSON ORUSOE, BY JUAN LEWIS, or “TRUST HER NOT,” “THE SWAMP Fox,” TH SORCERER'S VICTIM,’ ‘MY QUAINT FAMIL- r4ns,”’ ‘THE SKELETON HAND,” “ LIFE AGAINSE TIDE,” ETC., BIC. CHAFTER I. TaE BOX BERO—HIS RESOLVE, Tre tide riging on a sandy shore. A bos, of years.of age or thereabouts, was peeiee ead up and down along the margin, lost thought. At every ste the in ing tide obliterated his nee hye but he e dently gave no thought to wind or tide. A heavy wave sent the spray dashing over him, and recalled him to himself. “T will do it!” he declared with emphatic gesture; “f Published iivery Month, M. J. LEVERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), 379 Pearl Street, New York. ing to the softening inftuence of time, and to the rseverance that usually commands success, Jwian Setereninea at every hazard to find this uncle; ‘to make known his kinship to this man of ominous name, but as Julian believed of good heart—in short, to begin at once the search for Captain Kidd, He reached the house and went in. Rverything was as his mother had left it, for her illness had been brief, and there had been no change. ‘Her familiar easy-chair was in its accustomed lac4, but alas! empty; the clock ticking away upon he. mantle as it had done many a year: the tea-kettle by the fireside—as in happier days; and as Julian looked around him and thought how soon these old associates would be but a memory of the past, he dropped upon a lounge amd burst into tears. For his was a tender heart. ‘ For some time he sat with his head upon his hands, but at length dried his tears, and rising walked the floor with all the latent energy of his nature coming to the surface. To enter upon the search which he propesed, he lew would require money. SORE Pe iC | hes! cl ll “hy & A\ _f AvGust, 1902, 50c. a Year. te Woh Ku. Besides the house and grounds, left him by his deceased parents, the sum total of his own and his mother’s savings amounted to two hundred dollars. To the boy this seemed a largo amount, and he had it ready to his hand, saved up between the leaves of the old family Bible; which book his mether had al- ways taught him was a far safer place of de % than any other—for was it not a treasure in itself? He now proceeded to pack up such things as be felt he would most need, placing his mother's Bible with its treasure in a breast-pocket, and aoa | his knapsack, locked all the doors and windows of the house, and coming out took one long silent glance at the premises thus left desolate and forsaken. He was in the act of turning vce Paint 8 gruff voice accosted him, and looking up saw tak a pe re a petty magistrate and neighbor who lived a mile off. He looked suspiciously at Julian’s well-filled knap- sack, and at the closed house. “Where are you 1, Julian?” he demanded. Julian faltered. Of all the men in the world, he thought, this man was the least likely tc take any interest in the course he had marked out. He had often heard him say, that there was n. romance PRICE 5 CENTS. shall succeed. Something tells about Aim, and with a sharp- ness beyond his years, the boy me so; I will begin at once the search for my uncle, the old Bet -captain.” And with these words he walked briskly inthe direction ef_a small cottage, the roof and chir..ney of which were visible among the trees a few hundred inland A cottage formerly his moth- @r’s—now his own, for,she was Buried yesterday. His name was Julian Adams, He was entirely alone in the world—alone with the single co aga to which he had al- ha That exception was his moth- er’s brother, an old sea-captain —James Kidd—of whom he had often heard in earlier years, who had gone to India and the Hast, and was still sup- Se to be living in or near ombay. It had been one of Julian’s boyish dreams to go out to his uncle, and in fact he had only been restrained therefrom b the urgent solicitations of his mother, whom he loved too well to leave in loneliness. As he now deliberated in ref- erence to his future course, this early dream came back to him with renewed force, and the result of his deliberations, as we have seen, was to lose no time in ca g this pur- pose into execution. But there was one difficulty in the way, as it now occurred to him; he did not even know his uncle’s address. Beyond the bare fact that he was somewhere in India, where p to have set- tled, and at he had once bean heard from at Bombay, he knew of him absolute nothing. That he was a manof vast also believed, for he held communication with already foresaw that his pro- jected search for his uncle might be considered by his elders as an enterprise both romantic and foolish. He hesitated. The man saw his hesitation and looked at him more sua- as ge “T ed you just now,” he said sternly, ‘‘ where- you were going; I repeat it, and demand ow.” “Demand, sir?” said Juli flushing with some resentmen in his tone. “Yes, demand,” responded uire Lawson. ‘T have been Ne gy your guardian. See! here is my authority !" displaying a folded paper as hespoke; ‘‘and Ihave come down to take possession of your pe lyeenbah gcio gen be- fore it is all was by neg s or Bacqnecee by you.” Julian turned from hot to cold at these words, but his voice had a manly ring as he replied: “Sir, you have no right; I do not acknowl you as my guardian; Iam o enough to choose for myself; I was fourteen last year. mother has often told me that after that age any boy could choose his own guardian.” Squire Lawson looked angry and annoyed. “Do you undertake to tell me the law—me, a magistrate?" “No, sir,” reins the bo promptly, but firmly; “I te you only the truth as it ape lies to myself; that lam past ourteen, and that if I havea ian, as I suppose I may, e will one of my owm ” choosing. * ay do you then object te me?’’

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| Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. - Pleasant ways of his school companion and play | head rather gravely. ‘‘ You have heard me speak of mate, Maggie Lawson, the only child of the squire, “Tf I had thought about the matter, sir,’’ Julian continued refiectively, ‘‘my mind would have been less likely to have turned to you, sir, than to my father’s old friend, Mr. Haven. “What! eld Benny Haven?’’ exclaimed Squire Lawson, with both surprise and contempt in his tone. “What does old Benny Haven know about law?” **T cannot say, sir,’ responded Julian deferentially, makii: a movement for departure, ‘“ but he knows a little of most everything, and as I was going away for a short time, I had already determined on leav- ing the keys with him. Good-day, sir.” Without giving the squire time for reply, Julian moved away, leaving him standing in the roadway | lookin darkly after him, as he increased his pace to a rapid walk. A few minutes’ walking brought him in sight of a large white house, situated on an eminence, and having .an appearance of substantial comfort. To- ward this dwelling the boy’s eyes turned somewhat longingly, as if in expectation of seeing Maggie Law- gsen—for this was the squire’s residence, She was not in sight, however, and after approach- ing within a short distance, perhaps a guarter of a mile, the boy turned aside at a stile in the low stone wall, and went off, in a path at right angles from the house. This course took him across an open field, up a rise of ground, toward a wooded knoll, which he reached and penetrated, going through to the oppo- site side, and coming out suddenly upon a shelving terrace of flat rock overlooking the sea, from the seaward side of which descended an abrupt preci- pice of fifty feet or more. An old man, hale and hearty, in sailor’s garb, was sitting on a low stool in front of a rude but comfort- able cabin that formed the background of this ter- race, mending a net and alternately glancing at the bright face of a young girl of thirteen or fourteen years, who was see on a coil of rope at his feet. The appearance of Julian on this scene was hailed with manifestations of warm appreciation, not un- mingled with surprise at the knapsack he carried. The old sailor threw down the net he was mending, and the young girl sprung to her feet. ‘* Hallo! my lad,” cried the old man, m a voice re- resembling the roar of a distant surf; “ whither bound with that ballast?’ Julian laughed, and unslung his knapsack, laying it at the old man’s feet; taking his great brown hand in both his own, while the young girl came close and laid her hand on his shoulder with an ex- pression of pleasure. “Tam going away, Uncle Benny,” he said, “and I have brought you the keys of our cottage,” produc- ing them as he spoke. “Going away?’ gasped the old man at his hoarsest. ‘“‘ Away?’ echoed Maggie, for the young girl was she. “Yes,” said Julian, turning to Maggie; “and Iam so glad I have met you here, where I can say good- by. I was afraid I should not see you.” “But where are you going, Julian?’’ she asked, while her pretty cheek grew a shade paler. Julian waved his hand toward the sea and the dis- tant ocean, as if he were a sovereign, and there lay his empire. t At this moment a voice was heard calling the name of Maggie. The young girl started. “ They are looking for me and [must run home,” she said, regretfully. ‘‘ But you will not go to-day?” she added. “That will depend upon the wind and the tide,” he replied, looking along the coast toward a small inlet where a schooner could be seen loading with humber. : “Tf I do not get off you will see me again, Maggie,” he added; ‘‘and in any event you will hear from me, and throwing his arm around her neck, he pressed his lips to hers, and so they parted. In a moment her light footsteps could be heard, attering among the leaves, along the wooded path ne had just come. : “ And now, Uncle Benny,” said Julian, as Maggie’s airy form disappeared from their gaze, “let us go into the ph ee have something ,very, very impor- tant to say to you.” CHAPTER I. SOMETHING IMPORTANT—THE OLD SAILOR’S LETTER. Tue interior of the old sailor’s cabin was enough like that of a vessel to well merit that designation. It was the exact counterpart of the cabin of a ship, even to the ship’s lantern hanging aloft. There were lockers and cupboards, and bunks; eoils of rope, swing-shelves and sideboards; and in addition thereto a big anchor standing in the corner. with quite a lengthy hawser cord around it; anc about everything there was an air of neatness, that would have pleased the heart of any housewife; for all of which, thanks were alone due to Benny Ha- ven, for the old sailor lived entirely alone, with the exception of a parrot, almost as gray and ‘hoarse as himself, and peng equal vitality. This parrot was in a circular cage, ha near the door, and knew Julian at once, on his entering, for he saluted him, with, ‘Hallo! Jule,” followed by a wild, ‘ Ha! ha!” extraordin in depth and hoarse- —— which familiar greeting Julian suitably recog- The old sailor invited Julian to a seat on one of the lockers, and with an air of kindly interest told him “Go *, Well evap ay hy rd I have ge = sea; but n as a sailor, Un Beniy,"" he addod, as he saw the old man shake his | and am on my way. my uncle Kidd—Captain Kidd,” he ¢ontinued. ‘Ay! often, often, and know’d him too,’’ was the response, ‘Well then, what do you think of my going out to India to find him?’ ; **T think,” said the old sailor, anxiously—‘“ but, let me hear what you yourself think, Julian.” ‘‘Why I think I had better go, as you see, for I am all packed up to start, and have already left home, In fact, I have started.”’ “Then I think so too,” was the response of the old man, visibly brightening at the determination ex- pressed in Julian’s tone and manner. “T always told your mother that the captain wasn’t so bad as they thought him; though his name was a terrible one enough. But, hang it, what's in a name?’ “ Nothing—nothing, in that at least,’’ responded Julian. “Ay! ay! nor in t’other one now, for the owner of that was hanged, and good riddance, long ago. But you are going out as gen’l’man passiger, instead of sailor,’ he added, looking at Julian admiringly, and yet with some show of earnest regret. “Yes,’’ said Julian, reflectively, “ but I do that to save time, otherwise I should prefer to go as a sailor.”’ , ‘“*T see,’’ was the response; the old man brightening | under this explanation. ‘To save time.” ; ae have the money, Julian,’”’ he added, inquir- ingly. : a Yes,” said Julian, promptly. ‘‘ Two hundred dol- ars.” The old sailor drew out a small box from under the bunk, and after selecting one from several keys, un- locked it. It contained some gold and silver, the coinage of different nationalities. There were Spanish doub- loons, English crown pieces, French Louis d’ors, Ger- man thalers, and smaller coin from the American mint, “Tt takes a great deal of money, Julian, to go as en'l’man passiger, and I would like to hage m dear boy,’’ said the old man tenderly, ‘‘to be as high toned as any. o’ them. Take out of this as much gs Sim will need.” ulian was much affected by this kind offer, but re- fused to take any from the old man’s store, which refusal was sharply contested by the old sailor. But Julian was firm, and the old man returned the money and box to the secret depository. “You can serve me in a better way now, Uncle Benny,” he said, “‘as I think I am amply provided for in the way of money for the present. I want you to be my guardian, and you will take charge of the gare! whilelam away. It will only be necessary, suppose, to go to the cottage once or twice a week just to see if everything remains as I left it. Will you accept this trust for me?’ concluded Julian, earnestly. ‘‘ You have been my parents’ friend, and my friend.” \ ** Sartin, boy, sartin,”’ said the old man with glisten- ing eyes, ‘‘ but there’s no pirates about here likely to board the property while you are away.” “Why, as for that, Uncle Benny,” said Julian, “Squire Lawson has got himself appointed my guardian, under the mistaken supposition that I was not old enough to choose for myself, and he demand- ed possession.” “ And what did you say?” questioned the old sailor, sitting bolt upright, and brushing the scanty hair from his brow like a strong swimmer about to dive; ‘“what did you say to his demand?” “‘T said,” responded Julian, ‘that I was of age to choose my own guardian, and that if I thought of choosing, it would be you.” The old sailor’s great brown hand patted the boy’s shoulder with the gentleness of a woman. “Dear boy,” he said, ‘that’s like you. it up I s’pose?”’ ‘Yes, sir, for the time; but I iéft him, without ola words, on the highway and came directly ere.” Uncle Benny nodded his approval. “Should he take any further steps, [I shall of course know about it,” he added, “and shall give him to understand that you and yours are shipped with me and are under my charge.” A And so saying he arose and began walking to and ro. It was clear, there was a latent energy in the old man, that opposition would very quickly develop; and Julian thought with much satisfaction, as 3d looked at him, that his cause could not have bee. placed in safer hands. Uncle Benny paused abruptly in his walk. ‘“* What port will you make first?’ he inquired. “New York,” replied Julian,promptly. “* Onco there, I will visit the priftcipal shipping offices to ascertain the »quickest and cheapes5 way of reach- ing India. I am in hopes of meeting some one who has been out there and who has recently returned. uite likely I will be able to hear something of my ncle. Any one hearing his name would not be likely to forget it.” * Ay! ay! very singular—Captain Kidd. Who'd ’a’ thunk that old Benny Haven would have ever been incouraging a search for such a piratical name as that? But, my Dy I can help you in this more than you think. I know a man that’s out there some- where, and a Big Injun he is, too, to my thinking—a king or queen at least of some of those heathenish countries. He was a mate of mine once. “Ned Trus- thim by name; arising, striving, shifty chap he was. Ned allus said he’d be a B un some day, and 1 a — ogg hay op ome of the atch; for he was us & Dp esyi at t for ‘himself, like some other & people t ve h of. He left the ship at Gibraltar, declar- He gave | in active operation, and a wharf adjacent thereto,’ — EL EY ing his intention of going to Turkey and the Bast, and if heis out there, he must be a king at least now, for thet was more’n twenty years ago. “T'll give you a letter to him, Julian, in case you come across him. You are a scholard, my boy, and there’s pen, ink, and paper, in the locker there; take it out and write such a letter as I shall direct. Now then: “To Ned Trusthim, King.” ‘But perhaps he is not a king yet, Uncle Benny,” said Julian, after he bad written this address. ‘“‘ No, that’s a fact,” was the response, and the old sailor’s hands went up through his scant hair again with that gesture, habitual to him, of the swimmer about to dive. He rubbed bis chin thoughtfully. “But he may be a king of good fellows,” he cn mee with a sudden burst of satisfaction. ‘“ D’ye see Julian?”’ Julian nodded an assent. “That direction will do then,” continued the cit! sailor; “ go on. “These by the hand of my best beloved boy, whe | isn’t my son, nor yet my nephew; but I love him as well as if he were both. is leaves me stout and hearty, and comfortable on shore, which I never : thought to be, and hoping it will find you the same, ' and a king as you expected, and able to give a help: ; ing hand to my boy, which his name is Jul! Adams; and if you can make him a Prince; .'d he glad, and he’d be well deserving the same. He’s:, going to search for his uncle, Captain Kidd, not the. bloody pie of course. I close these orders by hoping that with your aid he will find him. “Signed with the hand of your old messmate, “BENNY HAVEN.” “ And witnessed by my boy, “JULIAN ADAMS.”’ “ Have you got it all down?” he asked, after pais c, ing a moment. * All but the signature,” said Julian. “Here is the place for you to sign,”’ he added, hand ; ing him the pen. . “It’s a pretty stiff flipper for this sort of work,” ! said the old man, taking it from him and seating himself, ‘‘ but I can do it after a fashion.” . It was indeed rather a laborious task:for the old ;: sailor, but he accomplished “it at last, and Bmrayy * Haven, in thick, broad Jetters, somewhat strangely ;; suggestive of the owner of the name, stood out star- ingly upon the paper. Julian affixed his own signature as witness, dried and folded the document, and put it safely in his pocket. ‘I purpose going to New York by the lumber schooner loading at the mill wharf,” said Julian, buttoning his coat and slinging his knapsack, pre- paratory to departure. “I suppose they will sail at | the turn of the tide,’ he continued, “and it must be ae now. I will have to say, good-by, Unclé enny.’’ * “T hate to have you go, my boy,” said the old ; man, as Julian put his hand in his. “Ye are sure, ‘ now, it is for the best, Julian, and you have no hesi- tation in starting?” “None, whatever,” said Julian, briskly. ‘“‘ Third how soon I shall be back, loaded with wealth and i gs perhaps—and bringing with me Captain idd.” Hand in hand they came out of the cabin. ‘*Good-by, Jule!’ said a hoarse voice, and the ! parrot i ag to and fro, and chuckled to himself. : ““Good-by, Poll,’ cried Julian in return, as the , door closed. A lovelier view than that from old Benny Haven’s cabin the eyes seldom rest upon. Looking south, and to the eastward, only the broad expanse of water, dotted here and there with | sails of vessels, and now and then an occasional : steamer, met the glance. Away to the westward, beyond the bright margin of white sand that marked the ocean boundary— “The very sea-mark of its utmost sail,” was a low, indented shore, with umbrageous folia, contrasting its deep green with the color of the waters. Near at hand, and extending inland perhaps a half-mile, was a broad, deep inlet, where a tide-misl , showed the loaded schooner, of which Julian had spoken, ready for departure, Over all the bright sunlight shone richly, giving to every object a glow of warmth and color. Good-by was said, and they parted; not without deep emotion on both sides, and Julian descended by arude path to the beach below. Looking back he saw the old man’s figure, strongly outlined against the wooded background, and waved a final farewell. In ten minutes more he was on board the schooner, made his arrangements with the captain, with whom he was acquainted, and half an hour afterward was watching Uncle sag mt figure, growing less and less on the rocky tempace. as the schooner stood boldly out to sea. Wen CHAPTER Il. THE LAND-SHARK—IN THE TOILS! ‘ = voyage to New York was not without inci ent. A huge dog belonging to the vessel, with which Julian was pla: , made a mis-step on a loose piece of timber and tumbled overboard. It was the second day out, and quite a breeze was blowing at the time, and the would prob- ably have been lost but for Julian going to his res- cue. Seizing a coil ot ae eee one end fast, and springing overboard with the other, the rope spun ee

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: | | a | a out, and Julian swinging toward the dog fastened it had been excited witnesses of the mishap, drew The Sea Serpent. J | bustle and scene of busy activity always more or about his 2eck, and two or three of the crew, who | them both on board, where they were received with | much rejoicing. Sometime during the night the schooner reached the city, but Julian remained on board till morning. Immediately after breakfast he bade farewell to the schooner, and made his way into South street, looking with amazement at the vast forest of masts and shipping of all nationalities that everywhere met his gaze. Disregarding the many invitations of Israelitish dealers in second-hand merchandise and damaged wares of all descriptions to ‘‘Schtop a leetle!” and come in and purchase, he pursued his course, look- ing for some vessel about to sail for the East. Many of the vessels had placards, or streamers fly- ing, stating they were to sail for such and such ports, but he saw none for India. One immense vessel, at length, attracted his atten- tion by its bulwarks being so high out of the water and its bowsprit being thrust, like an inquisitive nose, *way up among the business interests of the street.\ A placard at her fore-rigging was inscribed, in flaming capitals, ‘‘ Up ror Hona Kone anp CHINESE PORTS.” Though her destination was not exactly that for ns pe he was looking, he concluded to go on board of her. Going up the gang-plank at her side, which was al- less visible just prior to to a vessel’s departure. While deliberating what to do, he wondered whether tne, would take him as a sailor or cabin- boy, and made inquiries, receiving the information that they were already full-handed, and in any event he was much too small to go before the mast. He stepped ashore, and as he went slowly up the wharf, he thought probably he would find an Fadia paper at the office of the Punjab, and perhaps thus obtain information, possibly, of his uncle, not oth- | erwise accessible. He returned at once, made known his wishes, and was given copies of the Bombay Times, North China Heraid, and other newspapers. He searched them carefully, and pored for some time over the advertisements and shipping-lists, but no such name as Captain Kidd erected his anxious vision. Going out. of the office somewhat depressed, and | Still wishing it were possible for him to go in some most as steep as the roof of an old-fashioned house, | he found himself on her deck, and saw that her name, | like her destination, was Hong Kong. Julian gazed about him with interest. It was the first time he had ever been on board a vessel of her size. n addition to all the ge 8 a ig of a first-class, full-rigged, clipper-built shi bow-chasers, or guns, capable of throwing twelve- pound shot. There was also a swivel gun amidships, to carry twenty-four-pound ball—a formidable weapon. », She carried two brass | | office. other way than as “gen’l’man passiger ’—in some capacity whereby he might accomplish his purpose —and keep his money, he had gone but a short dis- tance when he was suddenly startled by being ac- costed with the words: , ** Looking for a chance to ship, youngster?” 3 the room, a round table and a few chairs, with one or two greasy Bewspapers lying upon the floor. “Here you can make yourself comfortable,” said his employer; “ the dinner will be up very shortly; I will go down and hurry them up; I am getting hun- gry myself,’’ and as he spoke he left the room. Julian unslung his knapsack, and placed it in the corner. + He had only time to take a turn up and down the room, and glance once or twice through the broken slats, that formed the blinds of the narrow window, _ when the man returned. He was followed by awaiter bearing steaks and hot coffee, with the usual side dishes, which his em- | ployer aided in placing on the table. | slipping away from him. Glancing at his questioner, he saw a/stout, bearded | man, ina half-sailor costume, who was holding his hand out to him. 3 “Going to ship?’ he repeated. “Tf I can,” replied Julian. “Where do you wish to go, what port?’’ asked the stranger. ** India,’ said Julian; ‘“* Bombay, if possible.’ “That's lucky,” responded the bearded man; “I | am the captain of a vessel—a splendid craft—and want a cabin-boy: you are just the chap I am look- ing for. You pees me at the door of the shipping I heard you within making inquiries about a | passage, but you had better go with me and save | Julian sought out the captain, whom he found a | worthy 2 hengennent i of his class, and made his in- | quiries, which were briefly answered, and he was di- rected to an India-house, or firm, who were the agents of aline of vessels sailing to india. Julian thanked the captain, and, as he was leaving, he inquired the use of the great guns he saw on deck. “To keep off the pirates, my lad,’’ said the captain; “the Chinese seas are not the safest cruising grounds in the word, and we often meet the Malay pirates swarming thereabouts.” Julian thought he would like to make the voyage with this captain, for be had an exceedingly pleasant face, and it seemed to Julian this wasa field in which there might be a chance for distinction as well as adventure in exterminating these whom the captain had spoken. However, it did not lie in the line of his search now. He, however, asked the captain the price of pas- sage to Hong cong. The captain looked at him with some surprise. “Why, my man, I might take you, always suppos- ing Ae parents willing, for one hundred dollars.” have no parents living,” said Julian, simply. “Tf you were only going to India I would go with re Ishall see you again, perhaps,” he added, as 1e took off his hat in farewell, and descended the gang-plank. The captain watched him as he passed from view. ** 4 manly little fellow,” he said, “ and yet with'some- thing gentle and almost womanly about him. He re- minds me strangely—strangely of one I thought I had forgotten, and who has probably forgotten me. IThope the land-sharks may not get hold of him.” Julian went at once to the address given him by the captain. your money till you get out there, unless you have more than you know what to do with, which isn’t the case, I reckon.” “No,” said Julian, brightening very much under the influence of this timely pro of familiar friendliness assumed by the stranger. “No, sir, it would take all the money I have and even some more to pay my passage in the Punjab.” | And involuntarily he put his hands to his breast to to assure himself that his mother’s Bible contain- ing the money, less only the small amount he had paid on the schooner, was still there. The man’s eyes were watching him like those of’ | a hawk. evil hordes of | It was in a solid, granite-looking building opposite | the head of a long wharf, around which clustered | thickly dark-hulled vessels of various tonnage, The offices were quite dark within, and were lighted at the back with gas. In that locality, it seemed to Julian, the shipping | firms must consider gas a cheaper commodity than | daylight, for no effort seemed to have been made for many years to admit the latter. The small windows, having an outlook on a narrow | alley, were so incrusted with dust and weatheér- stains that it was quite evident 4hat the presiding — of the place, whoever it might chance to be, iad never been to look out through them. A high counter surrounded by a narrow railing, with openings here and there, separated the inmates from the outside public. A dingy place enough, thought Julian, and yet, as he soon learned, from this dingy office went forth an influence felt more than half round the world. A wrinkled face with a complexion lie musty epeapenery below which was only visible a high, lack stock of an ancient fashion, appeared at one of the openings of the railing and signed to Julian to approach. He did so and stated his business. The man with a parchment face referred to a card lying. on the desk. : “Phe Punjab, for Bombay, sails to-morrow,” he said; ‘‘ the fare is two hundred dollars.” “So much?’ faltered Julian. “So little!’ said the man with parchment face, immovably. “ Make up your mind and come again,’ he continued, bev, Mer hand for him to give place to some one waiting behind. satan stepped back. ere was an obstacle at the very . The passage-money was a little larger sum he could command. t was to be done? He went out and walked toward the wharf where the Punjab, and went on board. vr deck wharf adjacent presented the usual eee ae Oe Rae EC see ae A 2555 igh in’ viet se al eR a i eh = ye *) > « , y Sma * a oR “You have some friends here with you, I sup- pose,”’ he asked, with affected carelessness. “No,” said Julian; “I am alone in the world with the exception of my uncle, who lives in India. If you are sailing in an Indiaman, perhaps you have met him out there,’’ he added eagerly. “Very likely,’’ said the man coolly; ‘‘I know most everybody out there. What's his name?” ** Captain Kidd,’ replied Julian. The man started and looked at Julian keenly from head to foot. | | sition, and the air | The waiter disappeared, and the man seated him- self. “Fall to, my lad,’ he said; ‘‘don’t stand on cere- mony. Julian was too hungry not to avail himself of the ~ last suggestion, and promptly complied, seating him- self opposite the man. Julian had drank one cup of coffee, and nearly finished eating, when he became conscious of a~ strange sensation—a sensation as if his senses were In a vague sort of mig it filled him with alarm. He attempted to rise, but sunk back in his seat. a He looked at the man helplessly; and in that mo- ment the stranger seemed turned to a serpent, the glittering eyes of which, to the boy’s fancy, were seekin- with a dreadful fascination to control his wa Zz senses. . A voice, barely audible to him, was asking: “Where is your knapsack?’ Julian felt mechanically for the strap. “* Never mind; I see it yonder.” This man was his enemy. A deep sense ef the serpent-like fascination and the horror of his situa- tioh was growing upon Julian as this conviction asserted itself, and with all the energy of hés soul, he made an effort te struggle against the helplessness that was creeping over him. , The man’s glittering eyes were upon him. The boy again attempted to rise; but in vain. The man seized him by the arm, and with some | muttered words the boy could not understand, half led, half carried him to the lounge, and Julian sunk back upon it. . His eyes closed. He was barely conscious of lo fingers plucking at his breast, and a muttered gro like some hyena busy with its prey. “My mother’s Bible,” he gasped, as he felt it being torn from him. _ And with these words he was dimly sensitive of a terrible crash—a whirl, as if the house had fallen, and all sense of life and light left him. CHAPTER IV. THE RESCUE—CAPTAIN JAMES. Tur terrible crash of which Julian was thus dimly conscious as his senses left him, was caused by the door of the room being burst violently open. There was a rush of footsteps—a yell of wrath | and fear—a blow, and the treacherous scoundrel *“*You’re joking,’’ he said, with rathera discordant | laugh. ‘Oh, no, sir,” said Julian earnestly; “that’s his name. “ Allright, then. the old pi— but never mind what I thought! I find I don’t quite remember your uncle now, though T must know him, and shall think! cidedly queer name—smites Smith, and beats Ba- naghar clear out of sight. But, I'll remember him soon. Will you go with me?” : But, blow me if I didn’t think of | It’s such a de- | bending over the boy was sent whirling against the opposite side of the room, and fell limp and motion- less. For the tide had suddenly turned, and Julian was saved. “Look up, my lad, look up!’ cried the new-comer, catching Julian in his strong arms, and bearing him to the window, which he threw up for the admission | of air. “T shall indeed be glad to go with you,” said Jul- | ian. ‘‘Is your vessel one of the same line as the Pun- | jab?” The man glanced sharply about him, and up and down the street, where they were walking, before re- | | plying, then said, ‘‘ Yes.”’ | ““Where does your vessel lay?’’ asked Julian, de- | lighted at the prospect that now seemed opening. _ “Over at Jersey City,”’ was the response. ‘She is discharging her cargo. to-day, but will take you with me to-morrow. You can, meanwhile, stop with me. I have a friend who keeps a chop-house, not far from here, and as I was just going to my dinner, come along and I'll show you where, and you can dine with me.” He led the way up a narrow side street down one or two still narrower and further on into one open- ing into a squalid court, with a dingy house at the | further end. Not avery inviting place Julian thought, as he fol- lowed his conductor inside this house through a low dirty door. The man seemed to read what was in Julian’s mind, for he said, ‘‘We sailors—here to-day, and away to-morrow, and anywhere next week—are not very articular as to our quarters, but we can get as good inners here as anywhere in this port.” There was a smell of cooking about the pes, that was rather pleasant to Julian, for with his depres- sion gone his naturally healthy appetite began to wake up. He said as much. “We will have ——— to eat immediately,” re- plied his new employer, and opening a side door, and iving some orders in a low tone without going in, e turned and said, ‘‘ Come et stairs. quiet above.”’ Julian followed him through a dark, narrow passage, and up a creaking staircase, where the air was filled with stale odors. The room into which he was ushered was rather the gloominess. There was a low, rickety lounge in one corner of en. ee he a SE es I am too busy to go over’ It’s more | But the effects of the drug administered in the boy’s coffee had been too powerful, and Julian did not immediately revive. a His rescuer placed him gently back upon the sofa, threw cold water into his face, and stood looking down upon him with an expression of deep interest, Very easily we recognize him. He was the captain of the vessel for Hong Kong, aboard of which Julian had noticed the brass guns. He had seen Julian, while passing along South street, in conversation with the. villain who had brought him here—a man whom he instantly recog- nized by the cut of his jib, as belonging to the class of land-sharks to which he had alluded when Julian was leaving the ship. He picked up Julian’s Bible, which had fallen from the hand-of the prostrate ruffian. Two or three bank notes of small denominations | had fallen from it, which he replaced between the leares. “T see,” he said, examining it, “it answers a ecu purpose: a Bible and a bank—Ha! but what s this?’ _ He was xen it open in his hands, and gianc- pel at the fiy-leaf. It ne this inscription and a ate: “From Julia Adams to her son Julian, on his tenth birthday.” For some minutes he stood looking at the words, as if they possessed a new and strange interest. Could the love of the dead mother for her son have found expression in his glance, it would seem to have been strongly apparent then. : He placed the book carefully in his re and turned sternly toward the corner where lay the allen miscreant. He made a resolute at the open window, and threw back the dilapidated blinds. By what must seem a remarkable combination of circumstances, a policeman was just passing the head of the court and was looking that way. The captain called, and beckoned to him; he romptly responded and came up-stairs. P'the inom the flor was beng to rowovet. “Take this villain into ,”’ sald the captaims 2

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“he has drugged and attempted to rob this lad, and | | be, and where you are to take up your quarters, but furiny timely intsrference would have succeed. ed. Take him to the station-house and lock him up- When the boy recovers I will appear and make i My name is James—Captain | charges against him, I James—ot the clipper Hong Kong, of the American e.”’ a oliceman stimulated the returning conscious- ness of his prisoner, by the customary cuffs and slaps in vogue with his class, assisted him to his feet, and led him out and down-stairs, retaining a fast hold of him. For none knew better than he that this class of ruffians were slippery customers. — ; Captain James continued his efforts in Julian’s be- half, and finally succeeded in getting him on his feet, and walking him up and down the room, until by de- grees the confused state of his intellect were away, and at last his consciousness fully returned. At first he stared about him ina bewildered sort of way, but on the captain’s returning his mother’s Bi- ble, containing the money, that last recollection of those bony fingers plucking at his breast, and of that serpent-like fascination that had been upon him, returned, and he was himself again. With strong appreciation of the danger he had so narrowly a Mee 3 he pressed the captain’s hand with a warmth that found additional vent in tears of thankfulness. ; : They left the place together, not a soul being visi- ble in or about the house. . The sight of a policeman in this unclean rookery having had the effect of putting its foul birds to in- stantaneous flight. So prone are past misdeeds to rise in Judgment. ; ne int 43 still weak, and Captain James found it necessary to support him oe y by the arm as he led the way toward the dock where the Hong Kong was lying; but the open air and the walk, and the consciousness of safety did Julian more good than any medicine could have done. The captain took him on board the Hong Kong and into the cabin, where he gave him a glass of wine, ordering him to lie down and endeavor to bogs Placing his knapsack beside him, and telling him to be perfectly at ease, and that he would soon return, he Toft the boy to himself. Julian fell into a refreshi j awoke he found the captaimsitting by his side, watch- ing him with a tender interest which made Julian’s heart go out to him. ; He sat ap, and at the captain’s suggestion arose and walked about, and after a few minutes, declared he had never felt better. Captain James smiled his approval. n t being the case,” he said, “‘andif you are entirely willing—not otherwise—I should be glad to hear your history; why you are leaving home, the particulars your parents, and why you pur- pose going to India? Upon this, Julian, not without considerable emo- tion, proceeded to relate the whole of his little histo- ry. 6 recent death of his widowed mother, where and how she had lived, the property she had left, of his only relative, supposed to be in India, and all par- ticulars inreference to his leaving home. Nor did he omit suitable mention of old Uncle Benny, of Maggie Lawson, and even the parrot; stating fully his pur- pose of finding, if he were living, the uncle he had never seen—in short, all the ho and desires—the aims and aspirations with which he was setting out on his search for his uncle—Captain Kidd. In connection with this narrative, he showed Cap- tain James the letter of the old sailor to his ancient friend and messmate, Ned Trusthim. i The captain read it with an amused smile. “What he says about this Captain Kidd not being the bloody pirate is rather suggestive,” said Captain James, reflectively; “‘espe@ially,” he added, “as connected with your search. Strangely enough, I self have often ag that a search for the pas b nal Captain Kidd, of the places he visited, and ne coast where he buried his treasures, might result in something important,” “Then you do not think my search for my uncle foolish or unwise?” asked Julian. “No,” said the captain, after a thoughtful pause, ‘*T do not; I believe there is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may, and I have no doubt but there is some wise purpose in your under- taking, which may hereafter be made fg I think you will surely find him. Meanwhile,” he eoncluded, ‘‘as you have already discovered, it is not altogether safe for a lad, and a stranger, to carry money about with him, or to make inquiries for pas- sage, or otherwise show that he has a considerable mim; perhaps your experience will suggest some er course. ac sir,’’ said Julian, the ews he felt shining In his eyes, “if you could on 'y let me go with you as gabin-boy, or in some other capacity, I should be slumber, and when he lad, and if you will not, I will go as passenger. ou said you ronle. axe me for one pancaed ol- n proba e from Hon Fe a adie dor lee rooney than west T shall st Kong to India for less money t have left.” i ““My lad,” said the captain, “I do not want your money, but wished to know whether you still held fast to your a ep of going. My gana in his double ca y of supercargo, needs a clerk, at least, I think he ought to have one; I see, by old Benny’s letter, that you write well, for one of your and have no doubt you are good at naga just the kina of assistant that he ought to have. t do you say to ten dollars per month and found?”’ he with a business air. v4 ll accept, with thanks to you, which I hope to show hereafter with acts—more than any mir. do. oy welt’ paid the ca) “it is an engage- ment Syl introduce you to purser at once, Sys | again. meadie’s tiall-Dime Library. and he will show you what your new duties are to * We will then go and make our formal complaint, for the punishment of that land-shark. He will be made to think twice before he tries that sort of thing And with these words, they passed out on deck to- gether. CHAPTER V. STRUCK BY ei aab THe Hong Kong was to sail the following week. During the four days, that ensued, Julian had time to familiarize himself with the duties of his new posi- tion, and to write a letter to old Uncle Benny, giving him the name of the vessel, and the port to which he was bound, and such other particulars as he thought would be of interest to the old sailor, not omitting his adventure with the land-shark—he and the captain having formally attended at the police court, and seen the villain disposed of by a sentence of ten years’ imprisonment. As the time of departure grew near, he was kept very busy. ' Tt was a proud day for Julian when they at last weighed anchor, dropped down the harbor, and stood out to sea, Before them lay the broad expanse of water, be- hind them the great city, and in advance the foreign lands he hoped to visit before he returned. Four days they kept upon their course, blest by favoring gales, when Julian saw the captain come on déck one evening at nightfall, and examine the barometer with an ebay grave face. Up to this time there had been no evidence, to the boy’s comparative inexperience, of an approaching storm. But the expression of the captain’s face, now led him to more carefully scan sea and sky. To the northward, just above the horizon, was a long irregular line like a penciling of light on a darker background. Tt had an appearance that Julian had never before seen, and he would have asked Captain James its meaning, for he saw he had observed it, but the captain went forward issuing orders; and directly afterward the whole crew were actively engaged in making everything snug and fast on deck, and stow- ing away and lashing the movables, in evident antici- pation of a coming tempest. But in such a stanch ship, and with an experienc- ed captain and crew, Julian was rather pleased than otherwise at the ie aie How little did he appreciate what was foreshadow- ed by that strange sky and sea. An hour thereafter it was blowing violently; another—and it had become a gale, and when night closed, it blew a hurricane. All that could be done for the welfare of those on board, and for the safety of the ship was done. It blew all night, and all the next day, and even Captain James declared that it exceeded in force and continuance any storm he had ever known. Toward night of the second day, it seemed to abate somewhat, and the opinion Lp pe to prevail that the storm was over, when the wind suddenly shifted, and a terrible fall of rain ensued, accompanied by the most terrible thunder and lightning Julian had ever witnessed. For q time sea and seemed met together in a vaul arch of intermittent fire, so closely did the blinding flashes succeed each other—while the roar of the incessant thunder was deafening. Nothing that Julian had ever heard could furnish a comparison, He had read of the clash and queer of opposing armies on fields of battle, of the thunder of artilery, but it seemed to him as if all the cannon in the world discharged at once, would be unheard beneath that elemental war. He felt, however, no terror or alarm. His awe and amazement were too great to give place to any weaker feeling. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash—a blind- ing flash—-with tongues of flames that swept over Julian with scorching heat, and but for the rope with which he had taken the precaution to lash himself to the bulwarks he would have fallen. For a moment his senses were involved in Chaos; the whole world seemed split asunder, and en- veloped in flames. The ship shook and reeled like a drunken man staggering to a fall; and as Julian’s senses slowly ; “i he saw some of the men prostrate upon the eck, What had happened? Before his mind could suggest an answer to this question, a voice forward cried out: “The ship is struck by lightning.” The tones conveyed to Julian’s mind a sense of horrified despair. Julian looked about, him for the captain, and di- rectly he saw him hurrying up from the companion- way and go forward. tterly worn out by the exhaust labor of the last forty eight hours, foryhe had not closed his x Ais in that time, he had gone below to sleep, leaving the deck in charge of the mate. Julian threw off the rope with which he had lashed himself to the bulwarks and busied himself in restor- ing those who were still suffering from the effects of the shock. Some, however, were already beyond the aid of man. Several who had been sheltered about the mast, or near it, were killed outright, and the mast itself had been split and splintered in the passage of the lightning to the hold. (9) of the cargo were known to be combusti- ble, and it was not withouf dread that Julian re- membered this, What if the lightning, finding no vent, had follow- TEAL oak meee ! ce 7 Hy ed the keel, splintering off here and there, and had set fire to the cargo? J It was soon evident this thought was not alone in the boy’s mind, for Captain James aided his efforts in arousing the stunned and bewildered crew, and proceeded to remove the main hatch with a view of ascertaining what damage had been done by the electric fluid. A volume of smoke came pouring out which the draught, created by the ship’s headway, instantly fanned into a flame. The men recoiled with cries of terror.and alarm, but the captain’s tones were firm and clear, as he ordered the hatch replaced, enforcing the command by voice and example; but it was a difficult task, The volume of flame and heat that came rolling out was appalling. The effort was crowned with suecess, however, and the fire temporarily smothered, or confined below. Holes were then bored in the deck, through which water was poured incessantly, The men worked, fired with the captain’s zeal and energy, with steady determination for hours. Meanwhile the thunder ceased to roar, the light- ning flashed no more, and the wind began to subside a little; but the deck beneath their feet had grown hotter and hotter. Between decks, it was evident the ship was a smoldering furnace; and ina sort of dry well be- neath the cabin floor, as the captain and Julian knew, were several kegs of gunpowder, for the ser- vice of the brass guns. At sea—at night—on a raging ocean, with moun- tainous billows all about them, a raging fire beneath —no land in sight! It was a situation to dismay the stoutest heart, but Julian saw no sign of fear in the captain. With a calm voice he gave his orders, and with a firm hand he aided in their execution, and under his direction they still continued their efforts, though the smoke and heat had now become far more dan- erous than the wind and the sea, But not long did ey remain, Some one remembered the powder on board and reminded his comrades, It produced an instant panic. All ceased their work at once, and under the leadership of the mate, rushed for the boats, i In Bg the captain reasoned, threatened and en- reated. The impossibility of launching a boat in such a sea would have been apparent to any but madmen; but they heeded not. They struggled into the boats. fighting with each other for precedence, lowe: and cut advift. The first two were instantly swamped; the doomed men were swept gpm Be | leeward. The third and largest boat fared little better; it was instantly filled with water and vanished away in the darkness, with a few of the crew clinging in and about her. Julian looked around him. Of the whole crew, but three were left, besides the captain; the purser, the steward and himself. e rudder had been lashed, and almost helplessly they were driving along. A burning ship upon a heaving ocean! The captain went forward with his night glass; Julian keeping close by his side. Suddenly the captain uttered an exclamation, and his anxious countenance lighted up. “Land!” he declared, ‘“‘a coast ! and we are driv- ing straight upon it. Shelter yourself under the bulwark, Julian, with the purser and steward, and keep a stout heart. If the flames do not reach the powder during the next twenty minutes, we have still a bare chance for our lives!” CHAPTER VI. CAST UP BY THE SEA. : JULIAN siepped back as directed and crouched be- neath the Lulwarks. Not another word was uttered. The two men clinging beside him were voiceless, either with terror and apprehension, or more likely a calm resignation. Here and there the seams, in the planking of the deck, began to bubble and smoke, j The danger from the raging furnace beneath was evidently growing more and more imminent. With a view of escaping the heat, and the threat- ened peril undef their feet, the two men got outside the bulwarks, and lashed themselves in the chain- rigging of the shrouds, ey told Julian to do the same, but, in this criti- cal emergency, he preferred to be nearer the cap- tain, and again went forward to where he was post- ed on the look-out. He was just in time. He saw looming before them, dim and misty in the gray night-sky—directly in the track of the ves sel, and so near that he seemed to be almost looking down upon it—a long line of shelving sand and ine. ed coast, over which the ocean was lashing i fh a yeasty surge, The captain turned and shouted to the mén, but his voice was not audible ten feet away, and he wayed his hand for them to approach. But the sig- na unheeded; and ata he beckoned. ile yet his hand was the air, and his face turned toward them, there came a grinding, grating, Seeehing sound beneath the keel. The shock threw Julian violen t the cap- tain, who in turn recoiled against the bulwark, and with. the shock followed another |crash of broken masts and f spars, and in an instant a portion of the hatches and p' were blown off, and great volumes of flame lea into the air. * The masts had fallen to and the momen Julian had regained his footing, he looked for the men in the chains, but they were gone. ; -

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ns The captain and himself were alone on the burn- ing ship. Their position was every moment growing more | and more critical, : What could they do? The boy asked himself this question, and looked | at the captain, by whose side he was standing; but he was saved the trouble of a reply. ‘There came a burst of thunder sound.” Deck and vessel trembled beneath them for an in- stant. There was a rushing, rising sensation—a hissing, hur#ing sound, and the boy felt himself torn violent- ly from the captain and driven forward, breathless and powerless, and falling with a great shock. His senses left him, When he awoke it was broad daylight, and the sun was shining down upon his upturned face. He attempted to rise, but at the first movement, itseemed as if his limbs were dislocated; he felt stiff and bruised, and incapable of exertion, By repeated efforts, however, his limbs and mus- ces resumed their duty, and he succeeded in getting upon his feet. He had fallen upon a bed of wet sand which ap- peared to be just above high-water mark, Julian looked around him. Seen in the sunlight, it still appeared, as it had from the vessel’s deck, a long stretch of barren coast, evidently an island, His first thought was of Captain James, He looked eagerly about him, and called his name. There was no response. He called again and again. There was no living thing stirring on land or sea! A portion of the wreck, blackened and bare, was visible a short distance out, marking the spot where the vessel had struck, and aleang the shore were many fragments, more or less blackened, of the ship and cargo, but no sign of Owptain James. Jnulian’s heart sunk within him, Had he alone of all that crew survived the triple disaster of hurricane, fire and wreck? Could it bey The sun was shining gloriously over all, in marked contrast with the previous terrible night, as if in | more or less charred and blackened, which with compensation for the suffering of the past—a glori- | ous Inorning! ** Yet that same fnorn looked on ruim and wreck, And soothed a sea that lifeless thet the deck Of some proud ship, and glorified the wave Playfully rippling, shoaling goldenly o’er Dead seamen dimly drifting to the shore! Terrible innocent morning laughs on high, While Ocean rocks them with its hulaby.” Forgetting all the pains of his ow bruises in his grief and anxiety for the captain, Julian ran along the shore looking: among the fragments of broken spars and cargo which had come ashore, for the body he hoped yet dreaded to find. The fact that he himself had been hurled on shore by the explosion—se far upon the sand, to the high- est. level marked by the storm—gave him renewed courage to look, and he continued his search. Suddenly his keart gave a great boundwas it imagination, or did he hear a voice calling him? Me paused and listened. Was he mistaken? No—he heard it again, faintly but clearly, and ran in the direction of the sound, which brought him close to the surf. A little further along, a cable’s length back from the sea, as if it marked its utmost boundary, was a jagged ledge of rock, it rose high and precipitous, perhaps fifty to seventy feet, with here and there openings in its front, where the fierce storms of this latitude had made breaches in its wall. Julian ran to the foot of this ledge. Here as eleewhere was visible the amplest evi- dence of the fury of the storm. The ledge itself had been lashed midway to its very top by the crest of the tremendous waves that had thundered at its base. Here, too, as all along the shore, were charre | fragments, and blackened bales and casks that. had been driven on the beach and left high out of the water. He called the captain with all the power of his lungs. Again came a faint voice in reply. Looking along the face of the ledge, whence the sound seemed to proceed, Julian saw a wide fissure or opening in its front, almost above him, like the mouth of a cave; a breach made by the sea. It seemed impossible that the captain could be within that recess, but another and still fainter cry assured him of the fact. It was indeed Captain James imprisoned bard and fast within the fissure of the rock, where he had been strangely carried, with great force, on the top of a heavy wave, which had borne him inward from the wreck. | they were to starve the time was not yet. One of his arms had been broken, he informed | Juwian, and was hanging helplessly at his side, and | he found himself unable to escape from the strange | place which had been both his means of safety and | ing , : | chest, which, on being opened, yielded the linen for of his imprisonment. Otherwise, the captain told Julian, he was unin- ured. The sea abating with wind and tide had left | im literally high and dry, Julian retlected for a moment, The fissure in the rock was entirely too high to be reached either from below or above, without me- ehanical Pe PIE He looked about him for the means. There were plenty of spars and some cordage , Bcattered about, Securing one of the former, Julian succeeded in placing it sloping against the reek, with one end in The Sea Serpent. 5 / the opening, and taking a man-rope, which he found | among the cordage, he shinned up the spar, and but for a timely warning from the captain would have leaped inside the fissure, which it apport sloped backward and downward to a considerable extent, till lost in darkness. Wind and weather had evidently hardened the outside surface of the rock, but inside the soft sand- stone formation had been worn away and had be- | come so slippery that no foothold was attainable or | tenable for an instant. ; Following the instructions of the captain, he made | a clove-hitch, or loop, which the captain drew close under his arm, and Julian, by taking a turn of the { rope around the spar, little by little, succeeded in bringing him up and out to the light of day. He was very pale and much exhausted, but mak- ing a strong effort together, both reached the sand beneath. But once fully in the sunlight, the captain suc- cumbed, and fell faint and powerless, A ghastly expression swept over his fextures, and Julian felt with alarm and anguish that he was dy- ing! CHAPTER VIL. JULIAN’S DISCOVERY, DyrNc on a desert island in an unknown sea for want of nourishment! As Julian thought this he glanced about him de- spairingly. His eyes fell ae boxes and bales, other merchandise strewed the shelving sand. Might there not be found nourishment—stimulants here? With the thought he ran to the nearest unbroken package, which proved to be a case of liquors. He forced it open, and seizing a bottle marked “brandy,” he returned to the captain's side, and knocking cff the neck as the quickest way of removy- The effect was almost instantaneous. The captain gasped once or twice, drew a breath, and sat up. ‘Thank Heaven!” cried Julian, pressing his hand, “What! you thought me gone, then?’ said the captain, smiling. ‘It is only the exhaustion that is upon me, my boy,’’ he continued, ‘‘and the pain of my arm that has weakened me. I see you have : : found some of the stores,” he added, looking at the That landward heaved the mariner’s glassy grave; | ' gt brandy-bottle and taking another dram. “That is indeed fortunate. If you can now find some of the provisions, we shall be still more fortu- nate, and can soon strengthen ourselves tojlook about us. Help me up, my boy, and Jet us get to higher ground where we can have an outlook.” “Tf you will kindly wait, sir, where you are tiljl I can look into the barrels and boxes yonder, I have } no doubt I can find some provision, which will give us both more strength for the exertion,” “Very well, then,” replied the captain, and Julian hurried to put his suggestion into instant execu- tion, Yortunately there was no necessity for going far. | With a large stone he burst in the head of a stout eask standing near, and found it filled with hams and dried beef, wrapped in paper and canvas bags and in prime condition. Near by waS another and smaller cask and a box, which, when opened, proved to be pilot-bread, but little damaged, and the inner layers perfectly dry and good, Julian's eyes sparkled at the sight of all this pro- vision, for he saw several more similar casks further along the beach. He seized one of the packages of beef, and a hand- ful of the biscuit, and hurried back to the captain, who was also pleasantly relieved by the sight. If They rejoiced together, and whipping out knife, Julian proceeded to slice the beef, made a substantial meal. In the absence of water, at the captain’s sugges- tion, Julian returned to the case of liquors, to iook for wine. He found a bottle of port and brought it; and this agreeable substitute served admirably to wash down their dinner. ; Both were very much improved and benefited by | their meal, as we may suppose. “The question of water will soon have to be en- tertained, Julian,’ said the captain, “but no doubt we will be able to find plenty in the hollows of the rocks above, for in this low latitude it rains—as our experience last night shows—with great violence. Meanwhile help me with my broken arm. I must be my own physician, with your help, and bandage it as best I can. Fortunately Ihave had some experi- ence, for I was wounded in that same arm in an en- gagement with the Malay pirates, of whom I have told you.” With the aid of Julian he arose to his feet and by slow degrees succeeded in removing his coat. The arm was badly swollen and powerless. Julian, under his instructions, made another fly- ing search and unearthed from the ruin a sailor’s is clasp- nd they | which he was looking, as well as many other useful things; for a sailor’s chest usually embraces the en- tire domestic economy of a small household, and by its aid the arm was soon dressed. Resuming his coat, with the exception of the one sleeve, the captain declared himself, though stiff and bruised, as good as new, and able and anxious to be- gin an exploration of their possessions at once. Accordingly they set out, and following the ledge of rock along the route Julian had traversed, and which ran nearly parallel to the sea line, they soon reached higher ground. For the shore gradually | Julian was leaving him, | duration. rising, as they followed along the coast, it brought | them out at last on a level with the top of the ledge, | back of which the ground rose still higher. They made their way to- the highest point, from which they could see nearly the whole island. It appeared to be about two miles in length, by one or more in breadth, and shaped, Julian thought, something like a fish. from its appearance, the captain thought it had been once a mere ledge of rock, but the sands had been gradually heaped against and over it. But, its exact location he could not determine without insteu- | ments or a more careful study. That it was in the tropics was evident—for the | signs of vegetation, especially at the east end (oppo- | site to that where they had been driven ashore), were strongly marked, The captain had never heard of this island, and was quite sure it was not laid down in the charts, That it was out of the ordinary track of vessels, he knew, and, of course, uninhabited, unless perhaps by birds and turtles, How long it would be necessary to remain there the captain could not conjecture, but it behoved them, he told Julian, to make the most of ali the re- sources at their command, Everything that had come ashore must be secured and safely stored, the heavy articles where they were, by means of ropes and planking, and those easily carried brought to the higher grounds. ‘“‘ At this point, where we now are, if we can secure a sail, Julian, to make us a tent, it would be a good beginning to pitch our camp. The canvas could also do double duty by catching our drinking-water when it rains, I can do very little with my broken arm and I find myself very shaky otherwise,” concluded the captain, ‘‘ but I shall improve in a day or two by | keeping quiet. The walk up here, even with your assistance, I find has tried me very much.” “Tf you could sleep, sir,’ said Julian, “‘I think it would refresh you, Let me place my coat under you, and you try to rest while t go down and make a beginning by finding the material for our tent.” With the words, Julian stripped off his coat, which had already, as he averred, become a burden to him, } and insisted upon the captain using it in the manner | suggested, paying no attention to his faint remon- strance. ** Be very careful of yourself,” said the captain, as * We are but two,” he Gon- tinued, ‘and must take no risk. We must do but little to-day—with something to cover us, and with what provision we need, we Can wait till to-morrow. The tremendous storm. through which we have passed is a surety that there will be a calm of some Do not stay long,’ he added, as Julian was moving away. Julian said *‘ Ay, ay, sir,” response, and departed. In descending to the beach, he took a different and waved his hand in |; course from the one he had come, one more circuit- ous, taking him round to the back, or southerly side of the ledge, by which he was able to see more of itg peculiar formation. As he advanced he saw that the wall of rock wag honeycombed, so to speak, in a number of places. The fissures he had seen on its face extended clear through—some of them—and they were enlarged | from the cavernous openings in front into excava: tions higher up, resembling immense caldrons. Oxe of these last, he. especially noticed, and with some surprise, for it was the highest up, and on a level with the top of the ledge at its greatest alti- tude, It contained water, but whether fresh or salt, Julian did not determine, though most. probably, he thought, rain-water, for it must have been fully sev- enty feet higher than the sea. His attention was first attracted to this natural basin by seeing a large flock of birds rise from its margin at his approath end fly affrighted away. As he stood for a moment looking down at this im- mense pool, wondering what its depth might be, he | noticed, with surprise and amazement, what looked | like a stone staircase leading down to the water from the opposite side. At the distance he was from it, it appeared like the work of human hands, but he gave it no thought, for this was of course an impossibility; he was greatly interested, however, and pleased. with his discovery of the basin, but remembering the work he had to do, he did not linger, but passed on. He found the way more difficult when he began to descend by a winding path to the beach; for the ledge here extended nearly to. the sea, and at high water was evidentiy covered at its lower extremity. He succeeded, however, in climbing over the jag- ed rock, rounding the point of the ledge and getting own on the other side, he found himself not far from the spot where the captain had been so strange- ly imprisoned and saved. Some portion of the sails were easily found, for they were lashed to the spars, or furled to the yards that had been broken, and gone overboard when the ship first struck. Fortunately, one of these lay high up—near where Julian had been washed, or thrown just as it had been clewed up and furled. _ Julian unfurled it, and stretched it out to dry, for it was still wet, and he found himself unable te tarry it. ing, he busied himself br: While the sail was d ing up articles still within reach of the surf, and Pre looking for the two men, who had disa thinking perhaps their bodies might have wash ashore, but he saw nothing of them. The sun was hot and the sail soon dried; but even then in his present weakened condition, J ulian found it too heavy to carry, but by easy stages he sucgeed- ed in ing it up the slope to the high point ox ground, where he had left the captain.

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6 Be found him asleep and breathing quite regularly, much to his gratification, for he felt this was what he needed more than anything else. Arranging a corner of the sail, by the aid of a small ar, to throw its shadow over the sleeping form of the captain. Julian softly ieft him, intending to re- turn ai once with provisions, including some con- densed meats and vegetables, sago cheese, and jel- lies in sealed jars and cans which he had discovered. * But the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang aglee ’ says the poet, and he might have added of boysalso. For on reaching the beach, Julian’s mind became diverted from this original purpose for a time, and he became the victim of a strange acci- dent. An accident as nearly fatal as singular. CHAPTER. VII. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A COFFIN. Tr was late in the afternoon when Captain James awoke. His first glance rested on the saiit which as he looked toward the declining sun, and realized how long he had slept, he started up and called Julian’s name. There was no response. The boy had brought’ the sail, but he saw about him no evidence of a second visit te the beach. The captain’s mind filled with a vague alarm, and uneasiness, and he rose to his feet. With the exception of his arm, in which the pain had somewhat subsided, he was greatly refreshed, but he forgot his own condition entirely, in his new | alarm. He immediately started toward the beach. The distance was not great, scarcely more than half a mile, and he was soon on the spot where he had been in the morning, but he saw nosign of Julian. Looking along the shelving, shingly shore he saw several huge piles of blackened mérchandise and rtions of the ship’s cargo, showing that Julian had een at work industriously, carrying out his sugges- tion concerning the saving and storing of everything. Yet no sign of the lad himself. The captain called his name in tones which rung loud over the surf and sea. The rocky ledge gave back the only echo to his oy Vhat could have happened? The captain glanced about him in anguish. Suddenly his eye fell upon a heap of linen, and other personal effects, lying by the side of a huge sailor’s chest from which he remembered Julian had taken the bandages for his arm. The chest had evidently been emptied. For what purpose? The captain attempted to raise the lid, but it was Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. water and the birds he had seen rising from it, which the latter heard with much satisfaction. He judged with, Julian, that this must be fresh water, as whatever spray might be dashed over the ledge in stormy weather would be insufficient to fill the basin at that hight. indicate that it was fresh, and thatit was seldom dry. A very desirable accession to their present limited stores. They would visit it together by and by, said the captain, After breakfast they went down to the beach and brought away more of such things as were likely to be first needed, bringing out of the surf many ad- ditional articles thrown up by the waves during the night. That portion of the wreck which had been left standing—the bow and forward part of the ship—was still hard and fast, and likely to remain so until de- cay and time should do their work. One of her heavy iron cables had run out and hung over her side, sloping inland, as if in mockery of an assumed anchorage, for so deeply were her timbers imbedded in sand that no anchor would ever be need- ed—were it possible—to hold them stronger. They busied themselves during the forenoon in this manner, and in collecting in piles, as Julian had done yesterday, the boxes and bales, and broken-up cargo, such as were movable. In the afternoon, Julian, at Captain James’s sug- gestion, ed the way around the point of the ledge, by the route he had come yesterday, when he made his great discovery, and up its craggy sides to the rock-built cistern. From the side of their present approach they found a sort of natural graded walk leading up to it, which seemed to suggest that at some former period peo- ple had landed from boats below, and made their way up to it for asupply of water. Reaching the top, they were welcomed by anoth- er startled flight of birds, which rose with a great rush of air and noise of wings, and flew away sea- ward. “Tf we only had a gun and ammunition,”’ said Ju- lian, looking after them, “how easy it would be to provide ourselvés with game every day.” ‘**Yes,”’. answered Captain James, “‘bur we are hardly likely to find either the one or the other, un- | less some box or chest as yet unopened and water- tight, should yield them—which though possible, is hardly probable. ““T have seen only the one chest from which I took the linen,” said Julian, in response, ‘and the big knives were the most dangerous weapons in that, | but of the many others on board it would seem im- fast—fast with its late contents lying outside. What | did this imply? | Among the articles taken from the chest were two or three broad-bladed knives, chisels, and a small Under the impulse of a sudden thought the cap- a seized the ax and struck a violent blow at the ock, It splintered the lid, parted the bolt and he raised the top. Julian lay within, cramped, silent and motionless —a deadly pallor on his face. The captain lifted him out, placed him on the pile of linen, and bringing water from a hollow rock near by dashed it in his face. To his great relief, Julian, at length, opened his eyes. In afew minutes more he was able to sit up Se and walk about, and_at length explain what ha happened. e had removed the contents from the chest with aview of ascertaining its weight and whether he could move it. It then occurred to him, a boyish idea, that the chest was large enough for his sleeping apartment being much larger than many berths on shipboar and under the impulse of the thought, he got into it, -~ The lid felldown. The lock like the fabled one of the song closed with a spring, and though Julian made frantic efforts to open it, he was unable to do Alarmed and horror-stricken at his situation, he ~had beaten the sides, and deafened himself in the cir- cumscribed space, with calls for assistance, till at last he had fainted and knew no more. Tt had been a strange experience, and one not like- _ly te be forgotten; so commented Captain James, as hand in hand they walked up and down the beach, looking at the different things that had come ashore. But the declining sun warned them not to tarry, sc > taking such things as they most negded, ineluding the ax, some small spars, clothing afl provisions, they returned to their camping-ground. ~ Working with energy, they soon improvised tent- poles from the small spars, set them firmly in the ound, and stretched the sail over them and secure- 7 fastened it, inclosing three sides: If not altogether tight, it had the advantage of being spacious and water-proof. Into this comfortable tent they gathered such things as they had brought up from the beach. Having thus made preparations for a pleasanter night than the last, the _ having brought them through so many dangers and *pertis, Julian and the captain lay down to rest. Early next morning, Julian was up and out to see the sun rise. He was still feeling samewhat stiff and sore, as also was the captain, but both werein remarkable spirits, | when the terrible loneliness of their situation is con- sidered—on a desert island in an unknown sea! While at breakfast, Julian told Captain James of his discovery ef the great caldron-like cistern of | Julian, as if ossible they should all be burned but the one, 1aps we shall find more among the ruins of the fore- castle if the sea gets low enough for me to venture out to her,” Julian was interrupted in his eager suggestions by a sudden exclamation from Captain James. While thus giving utterance to his views on the subject uppermost in both their minds, the captatn slowly led the way homeward, as the spot where they had pitched their tent might be called. That night they sat up a little later than the pre- | vious one. The fact, too, of its being aresort for birds, would | The mcon was round and full, and shining glon- ously. The heavens were cloudless The ocean like silvered glass reflected every star in the clear dome about it. The exceeding beauty of the night made both of our castaways wakeful, and they sat and talked for hours—or at least Captain James talked and Julian listened, for unlike some boys Julian was a good listener. ; He told the boy of the many years of his early life he had spent at sea, of how he had graduaily risen to | become a part owner in many vessels, how he had retired from active service as a sailor, how he had spent many years in China, Japan, and India, and how finally he had again taken to the sea only the year before with a resolve to live and die on the ocean, Julian could have sat, and listened to the captain all night, without a thought of weariness, for there was a fascination about his real life narrative, and a personal interest in his manner of telling the story that was peculiarly attractive. d Many times he wondered, as he dwelt on these re- citals of adventure in India and the East, whether his uncle, Captain Kidd, was not like Captain James, for his experiences seemed to Julian to Be mewhat similar, And he ardently wished in his own heart that when he found his uncle, that rich and eccentric relative might be such another generous, whole- souled man as this. ; From this he fell to speculating on how long they would be compelled to stay on the island, and asked the captain some questions on this point. The captain could not, and would not say; he had evidently formed no conjectures on that subject. He said, however, that for various reasons, he sin- cerely hoped their stay there would not be long. They were just on the point of turning in for the night, when a strange sound came to their ears from the lower, or wooded end of the island, perhaps a mile and a half distant—a sound that had in it some- | thing so peculiar, so startling, that :either could say Per- | They had reached, and were looking down the flight | of steps the boy had seen the day previous. To the by eee they appeared as they had to a shade paler. ** Julian,”’ said he, solemnly, ‘“‘I see we are not the first comers on this island as I had thougb* These steps were made by man.” CHAPTER IX. A STRANGE NIGHT VISITANT—THE TERRIBLE NAME, THE steps led down into the water. Julian ran‘down, dipped up some in his hand and | tasted it. | return to our tent. partook of a light supper, | and having returned thanks to the All-Father for | It was a little brackish, he declared, looking up, but still evidently rain-water. “ The violent hurricane that has brought us here,” said Captain James, “‘has thrown the spray clear over the ledge, which may account for the brackish taste. tinued, “‘ and this has probably been their reservoir, and a magnificent one it is.” ** But the steps, sir, must have taken along time to finish,’ said Julian, coming up again. ‘*No doubt; it is apparent that they are the work of some one who had time hanging very heavily on his hands and wanted something to do. wrecked sailor waiting for relief probably.” “Tf ships were in this neighborhood they would have no difficulty in getting all the water they need here, We are fortunate in this respect at least—very fortunate. But we must make a careful tour of the island; quite likely these people, whoever they were, who made these steps, and cleared this natural cistern, must newn from the solid rock, and he turned | what it was like. nothing human. ae it be possible that there were wild beasts on the island? They listened anxiously for its repetition, and sat for an hour with hushed breath in an attitude to catch the slightest sound. But nothing further came to their watchful ears. But for the fact that both had heard it distinctly, they would have doubted the evidence of their own senses, What could have caused it—that strange, wild cry? And with this thought uppermost in their minds, they instinctively reflected on their means of de- fense. They had the small ax, some carpenters’ tools, and two or three seamen’s knives, but no fire-arms. How swiftly then, Julian’s mind reverted to the brass bow-chasers, and the swivel-gun amidships that had constituted the formic..Lls armament o the Hong Kong, and how ardently he wished they had that swivel enn at least now. Posted right there by their tent, he thought it would be such a capital thing to repel intruders— whether beast, reptile, or pirates. But with a sigh he remembered that the gun must be now fathoms— fathoms under where the deep'sea was rolling. Hearing no repetition of that strange cry, howey- But both agreed there was. in it | er, and the hour, getting late, as they judged by the People have iived here before us,” he con- | Some ship- moon coursing high in the heayens, they turned in for the night, and slept, let us trust, the sleep of the just. Not, however, till they had determined to make a careful tour of the island the next day. Next morning they were og early, as behooves those having much to do, and after breakfast re- turned to the beach to resume their labors of the previous day—the labor of getting the stores and ae a from the ship removed above high-water mark, Here a great surprise awaited them. They found the cask of hams and dried beef, which | Julian had opened, overturned, and more than half have lived here, and,” concluded the captain, “we | | shall find other evidences of their existence.” “Perhaps it was a haunt for pirates, sir,” sug- gested Julian, “and if so, there might be buried gold to be found here.” . ** never imagined the freebooters kept much golé to fight over, my lad,” said Captain James, smilingly, been one of their stations or ports of convenience, We can neither prove or disprove that. “ Enough of this, however, for the present. Letus Upon our activity now, may de- pend our escape from the island hereafter.”’ “T think so too,” said Julian. But it is of course quite possible this may have | gone, and the box of pilot-bread he had also opened, had been mostly devoured, and the box itself bear- ing dents like the marks of strong teeta, was crushed up like an egg-shell. For a minute after making this discovery, the two eastaways stood looking at each other in silent amazement. It was indeed startling. Then came the remembrance of that strange cry they had heard at the east end of the island. It was manifest that the unusual flavor of so much rovision and preserved meats, especially in that ow latitude, had attracted some strange, wild thing | to share it. ““We must hoist a signal from the tallest spar we | can erect, for, although, as I judge, entirely out of the beaten track of vessels, some ship like our own may | be blown off her voyage, but more fortunate, may have succeeded in riding out the storm, and may pass within sight. We must also gather material for a fire | that we may light as a beacon on dark nights; luckily I had some matches in a water-proof safe; in short we must leave nd means untried to endeavor to make known our situation.” a a same thought was evidently in the minds of oth. “Tt must have been some sort of. sea-moyster, yeculiar to the tropics,” said Julian. ‘‘ Could it have een & sea-lion?” “JT should say not,’’ replied Captain James. ‘‘ They belong to cold climates I believe, and no iceberg would be likely to drift as low down as this latitude, even if they were in the habit of going to sea in that fashion.” The ome racy walked up and down with an unusual- ly thoughtful face, while Julian looked about him, endeavoring to find tracks or si that would indi- cate the nature of the animal, but any strongly marked,,; without finding

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— a Just there the shore had a rocky and shingly sur- face, the rocks being flaked off from the ledge, and the sand thrown up by the sea, and being within reach of the high tide, would have obliterated all footprints had there been any. “T-ean’t make it out,” Julian at length declared. “T can’t think what sort of an animal it can be—if It:has legs it has left no trace of them here.” “ Allthat menin any circumstances can do, Julian,” said Captain James, “ must bedone at onee. A dan- ger unknown is the more to be dreaded, and I see enough to warn me that we must. protect ourselves as strongly as possible from this. We must first look after the stores and provisions; the loose pack- ages and a few small articles we must take to our camp, and those in bulk we will secure by timbers, stones and ropes, as well as we can where they are.” In accordance with this programme they labored until they went to dinner, when Julian reminded Captain James of his purpose to explore the island, *“T had not forgotten it,’ said the captain, “and we may as well start at once. If there is anything else besides the visitor here last night to endanger our _ residence on the island, it will be best for us to know it without delay.” This was Julian’s opinion also, and arming them- selves, as best they could, with two knives each, and the small ax, they started. They were not long in reaching the east or wooded end of the island, and entered the grove. There were many birds lodged therein of various kinds and sizes, who, startled by what they evidently considered these stranger birds, took wing, whirring away with a great. noise, some circling along the coast, and others flying toward the other end of the island, giving the sigral flag at the camp a very wide berth, as something new and suspicious. * Julian and the captain penetrated this grove a short distance, and were surprised to find in its interior a broad inlet like a small lake, with a oxrrow opening to the sea beyond. * *On the north shore of this inlet, there were sev- eral huge rocks rising steep and precipitous from the water, evidently a continuation of the same ledge upon which the island was formed—with the green foliage which skirted the background, and the still, ower surface of the iniet in front, and the sun just gilding the tops, which were on a level with the tallest trees—these brown, baid rocks pre- sented a fit study for an artist. - “Te we only had a boat here!’’ exclaimed Julian, enthusiastically, ““what a splendid sail we could have.” The captain smiled gravely. They were standing on the margin of the inlet, its shelving bank of shingle showing here, as outside, the action of the tide. “While wishing for a boat, Julian,” said the cap- tain, “we might as well wish for a ship, for one could anchor here in ease and safety, and in high tide there would be no difficulty in getting over the bar opposite, if indeed at any time.” “Yes,” said Julian, ‘‘and that rock yonder, the lower one I mean, would make a capital wharf; let us zo around to it, please.” The captain followed him as he eagerly led the way, but Julian reached it first, and suddenly turned toward him, waving his hat and uttering wild ex- clamations of surprise and delight. “ What is it?’ said the captain, as he gquickened his steps, and in a moment more he was alongside of hi m. Julian was pointing at something at his feet, by the edge of the rock, near the water. Tt was a large iron ring, such as is used by vessels in making fast—passing through a staple—which staple was driven hard and fast into a hole drilled in the rock. Ring and staple were incrusted with rust, and had evidently been there a century at least, “You were right, Julian,” said the captain, as he surveyed this evidence of past occupation of the island. ‘Others besides you_ have thought this a capital wharf, for this inlet has certainly been at some time a ship’s harbor and anchorage.’ “Whose could it have been, sir?” p As Julian asked the question, still looking about him, he suddenly added a shrill exclamation. Captain James turned quickly toward him. The boy was looking up at the perpendicular face of the tallest rock, and pointing upward. _ Ten or twelve feet above their heads was a name, snd figures, done in old English: “CAPTAIN KIDD, 1698.” CHAPTER X. THE SKELETON OF THE ROCK. For some moments they stood in silence, staring upward at the rock and its inscription. A terrible name! How came it here on this solitary island? This was the question that was in Julian’s mind. But Captain James did not seem especially startied at the discovery, : Perhaps the disaster which had overtaken his own stanch vessel and his stout-hearted crew, and his reservation here, left no room for further wonder- ment at the mysterious dispensations of Providence. “You have found Captain Kidd, my boy!” he said, at length. ; Julien turned quickly toward him, 4 ; NS But not my uncle,’ he replied. “No,” said the captain, in a tone half inquiry, half assertion; “the date yonder conclusively shows that.” “Bub I may find him yet; this makes me more hopeful. “ Very likely,” said the captain, who was looking Nestly at tho top of the rock, and examining its ’ ese, Se ee The Sea Serpent. sides, ‘“Ithink, Julian,’ he continued, “there are other discoveries to be made here. That rock must be accessible; it would seem to furnish a better out- look. Let us see.” Julian followed him around the base of the rock, and they foreod their way through the undergrowth of small trees and shrubbery that grew at the back. In front, as we have seen, the rock was precipitous, rising with a perpendicular face to the hight of the tallest tree; but at the back it sloped with a gradual descent toward the sea. They made their way up this slope till they found themselves cut off by an irregular fissure in the rock, separating it at the top entirely from the larger half in front—a fissure which might have been. made by some convulsion of nature, or some violent upheaval of the whole island. It must have been twenty feet in width, by consid- erably more than that in depth. There seemed at first no way of crossing it, till Julian suggested the felling of trees, many of which, the size of a man’s arm or larger, grew in the crev- ices of the cliff. The suggestion was at once acted upon, and two or three of these being felled across the chasm, they made their way over it, continuing their ascent of | the rock, and were soon at the top. It was very irregular, one sice appearing much higher than the other. There were small trees growing on one side of the summit, which at*first effectually hid what was des- | tined to subsequently prove one of their most impor- | tant discoveries. A closer examination of the higher portion of the | rock proved it to be an artificial wall, having a rude doorway opening into a small apartment, partially | hewn out of the solid stone. Only asmall portion was sheltered by a roof—about | one-half—the other half having apparently been sup- plied by canvas or wood, of which, however, no trace remained. : There was a small round window, like a port-hole, commanding a view of the little harbor below, and the outlet to the same, as well as the sea beyond. Evidently this had once been the dwelling-place of man. " Many of the stones were hewn, some of them had fallen, and all were more or less overgrown with moss. In asmall recess, on the sheltered side, hewn out of the solid rock, like a berth on shipboard, they saw where the former occupant had slept. Yea! where all that was mortal of him still slept, for in this recess were the bones—the skeleton of a human being, Bleached and Whitened by storm and time they glared ghastly in the sunlight. Julian, who, boy-like, had rushed eagerly through | the low-browed doorway of this apartment, fell back in awe before this revelation of the past. ae Captain James’s face retained its usual tranquillity, He would not show toJulian the discouraging aspect | this gave to their hope of escape from the island. ‘Who could he have been?’ asked Julian, going around and looking in at the small window. “Tt is useless now to inquire,” said the captain, ‘“whether he dates back to the year engraved on the rock, or whether he was a castaway, like ourselves, at a later period; it would be impossible to know without further discoveries.” “Tt may be he was marooned. A careful search may furnish more particulars of his history.” Julian was already looking about him. On the very highest point of the rock he discover- ed ahole which must have been drilled with infinite labor, probably for the purpose of holding a flag- staff or signal pole. The area of the whole top of the rock was not much greater than that of a large house, and Julian did not take long to examine it; meanwhile the captain inside had made a further discovery. Beneath the skeleton was a movable slab, wherein, no doubt, would be found, he suggested, whatever treasures or information the unfortunate had left be- hind him. : Eager as Julian was for new discoveries, he hesi- tated now. He asked the captain if it would be right to move the bones. “Certainly,” was the response; ‘‘ we will come to- morrow, bringing a spade, and give them burial.” af They must have been here a long time,” said Julian, *‘ for with the exception of what seems to be the metallic buttons, there is not a fragment left of anything he wore.” ’ The captain, who had come out and was walking up and own outside with an air of abstraction, mace no immediate response, ‘ft is growing late, Julian,” he finally said, “and we must return to our camp.” As they were returning, a more careful examina- | tion of the chasm in the rock revealed niches, cut for the hands and feet like a narrow ladder or staircase, | ‘ | find I'am a little restless myself to-night, and will i hewn in the side of the rock, difficult ‘to any~ but a sailor, in getting down or climbing up. ; They descended this way, as it made the distance much shorter, and ina minute more were standing on the shore wharf. : : : “Tt must have been this man,” said Julian, as they set out on their return to camp, ‘“‘who made the stone steps at the great natural cistern,” “No doubt,” said the captain, thinking how hope- less was the prospect of relief when this man’s long imprisonment here was considered. For it must have taken years tohave accomplished that work. The extent and surprise of th® discoveries just made, of the skeleton, of the rocky dwelling, and of this having been a haunt of Captain Kidd—the world, famous Kidd—drove from Julian’s mind all thought of that strange, wild cry they had heard there the previous night, — et Social 1 They had nearly reached their camp before it oo | curred to him, and he mentioned it to the captain. *“T had not forgotten it,’ was the response; “ in | deed it was strongest in my thoughts when at the top of the rock.” “What do you think it could have been?” asked Julian; ‘‘ not turtles nor birds?”’ “ No,” said the captain, ‘‘ whatever it is it does not come in the day, but makes its visits in the night- time.”’ “Tf it were something dangerous to us,” said Julian, thoughtfully, ‘“‘would we not be safer our selves living at the top of the rock, especially as'that chasm would keep ajJmost anything from reaching us—like the moats of some old castle?” “Thave already thought of that also,” said the captain, ‘and to-morrow we may put it in force. It will be a bright moonlight evening, and nothing is likely to disturb us to-night, at least not without my knowing it,” he added, in a low tone to himself, After supper they sat up and talked till rather a late hour, ason the previous night. The captain going out several times to look at the sea and sky, and gaze somewhat anxiously toward the east end of the island. Though they listened attentively from time to time they heard nothing of the sound that had been so ominous, and wondering drowsily what strange, fe- rocious thing it could have been, Julian fell asleep, and in his sleep had a singular dream, CHAPTER XI. JULIAN'S DREAM—THE TERRIBLE EYES, Tr was the first time he had dreamed of home since leaving it, and it was astonishing how vividly the whole scene came back to him. The old homestead, the house wherein he was born, the ever-changing sea, upon which he had so | often gazed. | He looked in expectation of seeing the old house | lonely and deserted, for even in his dream he re- membered he had Jeft it, but to his surprise he saw | the rooms lighted up; figures were flitting to and | fro, and strange faces he could not recognize looked. | from the old, familiar windows. While he was wondering what this meant, he saw | the well-known figure of old Benny Haven; but look- } ing younger coming vigorously down the roadway. | He walked like aman aroused to unusual energy, like one having a clearly defined purpose in view. He went straight toward the house and had nearly reached it when the cottage-door opened from with- in and Squire Lawson stepped over the threshold. he took two or three hasty steps forward and in a | moment they were standing face to face. Though Julian, in his dream, in defiance of all po- liteness, strained his senses to the utmost to hear what was said, no word came to him. But that both men were angry and excited he could easily see, for their hands were clinched and | their gestures violent—particularly those of the squire. > hile Julian, in his dream, was wondering what the issue would be he saw the airy figure of a young a come running from the white sea beach, where e had so often walked, and hurrying toward the two men, she appdared to utter some remon-. strance. But the angry disputants heeded her not. How well he knew that lithe figure! Not even in | a dream could he forget it. / It was Maggie Lawson, She was yet a dozen paces away when Squire Lawson raised his heayy cane, and struck old Bem: ny a violent blow. It made Julian recoil in sympathy even in sleep. The lion-like nature of the old man was at once aroused, and with an activity that would have been surprising even in a younger man, he Seized the Squire by the throat, shaking him to and fro like a | man of straw, and hurled him with one final effort prostrate to the earth. Maggie threw up her hands with. a cry of terror, and actor that he uttered a loud cry. That cry awakened him. He sprung to his feet confused, bewildered, amazed to find it all a dream. | .To his additional naps he found the captain sitting up and intently looking out of the opening in the tent as if yang _ At Julian’s outery he sprung to his feet and com- ing toward him seized his hand. ‘A dreain! a dream, my boy,” he said, soothing- ly. Fakes Yes, sir,” said Julian, drawing a long breath, | still looking about him as if*ehe half-expected to see Unele Benny and Maggie again, so vividly did they appear to him. ‘ “Try and sleep again,” continued the captain, “I walk up and down outside.” He parted the canvas, which served for a doorway, and went out. ¢ Julian lay down again, but for some time could not p= ; _The vividness of his dream tinctness with which it had all come to him—like a picture upon the wall—had turned his thoughts in a new direction. ; | ,,He was not superstitious, but he began to wond | if ina dream like this there might not be mu | truth; and he sought to re | to think what transpired from the moment of | his leaving there. \ Bi ge He wondered if the Squire had attempted to « force his authority as guardian—if he had taken possession of the hi ad—and if old | His brow darkened at the sight of Uncle Benny, but » and so intense was Julian’s sympathy with the act the remarkable dis- ecall matters at home, and:

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. wondering about 1 1 j 8 ny would permit hina to do go; and then he fell to Maggie, whether she would be blamed for visiting Unele Benny so much, and if the accident of his meeting her at the old sailor’s would be considered an offense, and finally he fell asleep. When he awoke it was hardly yet day. He looked for the captain but he was absent. He listenod for his footsteps; but only the sound of the distant surf, and the-waves rolling in on the beach, came to him. He arose, dressed and went out of the tent. The bright glow on the eastern horizon showed that genial day was breaking on land and sea. He walked all around the tent, but saw nothing of Captain James. hinking that perhaps he had gone down to the eat basin for water, Julian went in that direction. idway to it his attention was attracted by a vast quantity of birds that were filling the air with their eries. They were hovering over the cliff, coming up from below with great velocity, and darting down again with equal force. Their movements were so unusual that he changed Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. But he had been more than repaid otherwise for his labor. Quite a portion of the forecastle was still remain- ing, though, of course, charred and blackened, and here he found two or three seamen’s chests. A search of these revealed man dab goals should their stay on the island be pro- onged., “What do you make it out to be, sir?” asked Ju- | lian, as they went along, thinking of the two terrible things likely to } Among them he found what he was now most | anxious for—a double-barreled gun—one barrel rifled | | for ball cartridge, and a pair of heavy navy revolvers. He was fortunate, too, in finding ammunition for these in a copper, water-tight flask. Placing the re- volvers and ammunition in his pockets, and with the run slung upon his shoulder, the captain was about eaving the wreck when he discovered the presence | on the beach of their mighty visitant. his course and descended to the ledge, coming out | to the face of the cliff in that direction. To hissurprise the birds did not appear to heed his approach, but continued to dart back and forth with | the same discordant cries. : Wondering what the explanation of this could be, Julian approached the face of the cliff, which was | here perpendicular, and looked over. At first he saw nothing unusual. But ten or twelve feet below him was around hole in the face of the cliff, perhaps two feet in diameter—one of the many fissures peculiar to the ledge, but rounder and smoother than any he had ever seen. It was toward this opening in the rock that the birds seemed directing all their rage and outery. Something musi be in there Julian thought. What could it be? some wild animal? A thrill of dread, as he remembered their defense- less condition, swept over him; but Julian was brave, as we know, and thought wisely, that a danger known could be far more easily met than one of which he knew nothing. If he could only see what it was, he said to him- self. He lay down on the very edge of the cliff and stretching himself over as far as he dared, strove to peer into the darkness beyond the opening. In this endeavor the birds seemed to recognize him | as an ally, and ceased a moment their wild cries, bovering about in such numbers and so near that a | single sweep of his arm would have brought down dozens. For a minute he gazed down steadily into the fissure, but could see nothing but the grayish brown of the slimy rock. But, suddenly, something at the bottom of the fissure seemed to move. Was it imagination? He looked again, and slowly from out the back- ground of duskier hue, he saw two glittering eyes fixed upon him witb a terrible upward glare. He LNA gh andy aetted head.to foot, A cold shudder ran through him. To have ventured ashore then in the moonlight would have been madness, and he resolved to wait quietly till the setting of the moon, and the dark hours preceding the dawn, should give a better hope of escaping observation. But wearied out he fell asleep where he was, only awakening just in time to see by the growing daylight Julian running from the cliff. And now, at every hazard, he determined to land at once, for Julian, it was evident, had discover- ed the monster, and would be doubly alarmed at his absence. Since he had come out to the wreck the tide had ag to the full, and landing was much more diffi- cult. But Captain James was not the man to hesitate. With his weapons placed easy to his hand, the cap- tain descended to the float—one of the hatchways— and noiselessly paddled along the ‘shore till he was opposite the camp where the distance was much less. te landed and hurried up the slope, being met by Julian, who had grown much alarmed, as he had an- ticipated, at his absence. At sight of the double-gun Julian uttered an excla- mation of delight, only exceeded when. the captain took the revolvers from his pockets and presented him one of them, “Oh, sir,” he gasped excitedly, ‘we have imme- diate use for them. Are they loaded?” * They are, and we are that much better off than we were, Your suggestion about searching the wreck was a good one. I felt yesterday it was, perhaps, our only chance of safety—either that or the isola- tion of the skeleton rock.” “You know, then,” said Julian, ‘‘ the terrible dis- covery I have just made?’’ “IT do,” said the captain, ‘but even with these weapons we must take the enemy at a disadvantage, or we shall be powerless. We may cope with some | danger even-handed, but not with it.” It recalled with horrified intensity the fascinating, | serpent-like eyes in the den of the land-shark. Of that terrible struggle to retain his consciousness at that time when he felt those long, merciless fin- gers plucking at his breast. What terror there was even in the remembrance. He shook like one in an ague, and nearly fell from the clit?. Only by the strongest effort did he recover his uilibrium, ie succeeded in gaining his fect, and without a lance behind, he ran at full speed for the tent. Not ill he was safe within did he draw a long breath, and even then he looked out as if half expecting to see those terrible eyes coming oe the slope. He looked about him for the captain, but he had not yet returned. Where was he? Had he gone to the skeleton rock, and if so should he follow him? CHAPTER XII. HE CAPLAIN'S VISIT TO THE WRECK—THE DESTROYER. Hap Julian been less excited by his discovery of the saurian, reptile or beast, whichever it might be, that had so startled him, and looked down along the shingly beach below, where they had left the stores, | restin peace till the next tide. he would have seen the confirmation of a visit from | the creature still more devastating than that of the night previous. ° oxes and casks were crushed into splinters and | their contents scattered, and even the stout cans eontaining preserved meats were broken and some of them emptied. He would also have seen, had he looked behind him when he ran, Captait: James standing on the broken bowsprit of the disinantied wreck, waving his hand to him in warning; tor the captain had made an earlier discovery than Julian. A discovery the fear of which had been in his thoughts all the day when at had kept | | | | | . | revious—had troubled him pris emerged erock after finding the skeleton—tha him wakeful and watchful all the night. For he had discovered ‘he cause of that strange cry, and what it was that had wrought such havoc among their scanty stores, Agreeing with Julian in the possibility of fire-arms —pistols at least, being found on board, the captain had taken advantage of the low tide, and his wake- fulness, to make his way out to the wreck, and while there had made his discovery and found retreat Shoreward cut off for a time. | goon have have none ‘** Now, then, is the time,’ said Julian, eagerly. ‘I looked right down upon it, sir; such terrible eyes. In- deed. sir, I could see nothing else.” “All the better,” said the captain; ‘if we can still see them, it will be our best opportunity, Come! but stay, I will load the gun first.’ He took out the ammunition, and proceeded to load both barrels. Fie then made another examination of the pistols, and then set forth by the route Julian had taken. By this time the sun had risen and was shining brilliantly, sending long lanes of shimmering light far over the sea, and tipping the waves with little jets of burning gold; but Julian’s glance was not upon the sun nor sea, as they advanced. He was looking along the top of the ledge, ‘“The birds ave gone, sir,’? he eal abruptiy. “What does that mean?” ‘‘Tt means, perhaps,”’ said the captain, qniclen- ing his steps, “that their enemy and ours has taken his departure. Let us see.’’ They reached the cliff, the spot where Jwian had been, and, as he had. said, the birds were gone. Very noiselessly they approached the verge and looked over. Those terrible eyes were no longer visible, but far out to sea, beyond the point of rocks, there was a long line in the water, which cut the rippling waves, and from that direction came an oceasional discord- ant cry—the same they had heard in the night. Julian turned toward Captain James, to call his at- tention to it, but he had already observed it. “He is off for to-day,” said the captain; ‘we can He is sure to come ’ again. No wonder we find no living thing on the island.” he poor fellow at the top of the rock must have led a terrible life’ while he lived: but for the rock in- deed, been brief. Forus, we are better preprared to cope with it; but we must have al) the advantage possible besides.. It will be a battle to the death, whichever wins, *’ eyes he hac ‘*Tt can’t be a wild beast—is it an alligator?” “No,” said the captain, looking at htm steadily, as if marking the effect of his words. ‘It is an enor- mous sea-serpent)!”’ seen, CHAPTER XII. UNCLE BENNY TO THE FORE. DREAMS are not always true, nor on the other hand are they always false! So wrote some years ago a well-known author, whose wide range of experience and keenness of ob- servation gave him an air of authority; and_in the case of Julian’s singular dream, these words may have application. For something had actually transpired at home very similar to what had been reproduced in his vision. No sooner had Squire Lawson definitely learned of Julian’s departure, than acting on the authority he held as the boy’s legally qualified guardian, he pro- ceeded to take possession of his property. The first intimation of Julian’s purpose was con- veyed to him by his daughter Maggie after her return from the accidental meeting at old Benny Haven’s. That the squire’s state of mind at hearing of Ju- | lian’s departure, or running away, as he called it, | was not a pleasant one may be inferred from the fact that he punished Maggie for bringing the in- formation, by locking her up and ordering her fed on bread and water for forty-eight hours, as if she | had been an accessory before the fact. | widow | rather Largely conducive to this wrathful state of mind was no doubt the swpposable fact that Julian had taken with him all the ready money of the late Adams—upon which it would seem Squire Lawson had looked rather gloatingly. That the boy would come to no good, and that he would never return, the squire did not hesitate to as- sert; but in this, as in some other casés, it is not un- likely that the wish was father to the thought. At any rate he took possession of the property, secured a tenant for it forthwith, and before Uncle Benny Haven was aware what was going on, they had taken full possession, and when he did make a final attempt to secure legal recognition as Julian’s guar- dian, as being chosen) by the lad, he found himself laughed at for his, trouble. Julian’s declaration of choice not having been made before a: magistrate, had no validity in law, conse- quently the old sailor found himself powerless to act in Julian’s behalf, This did not prevent him, however, going to Squire Lawson and protesting very strongly against his woceedings, to which protest the squire merely aughed, and snapped his fingers in derision, using contemptuous language; finally ordering Uncle Benny out of his magisterial presence, By this time the lion-like nature of the old man was aroused, and be resented both the words and the manner of their utterance in a manly, if not wholly magisterial manner, which left the squire prostrate and bleeding at the nose on the floor, Hurrying home with the step of & young man, after this encounter, Uncle: Benny found an arrival at the cabin, It was that of the letter Julian had written him, stating his purpose to sailin the Hong Kong, his en- counter with the land-8hark and other matters. And while he was reading the letter for the sec- ond time there came another arrival—that of Maggie Lawson. She brought the information that the squire had gone in great excitement for a constable to arrest him, and her love for the old sailor, and her fear of what might happen, had brought her swiftly with the news. But the old sailor was how fully aroused, and as he expressed it, alive from cléw #o earing, and not to be caucht napping. Had he been thirty-years younger, he could not have proceeded with greater celerity or more delib- erate calmness than naw, # cerry eut tle purpose he had in mind, These two arrivals, he told Margie, decided his ) dourse, and he proceeded at once to pack up a and its isolation,, his existence would have + “We must begin by removing our stores to the top | of the rock,” coucluded the captain, “or we shall left. See what the monster has eaten and destroyed already,” he added, look- ing down toward the beach. “Would it not be better, sir,’ said Julian, “ to go on board the wreck, and take up our quarters?” **Not to remain,’’ said the captain, * as it will be liable at any time to break up but to-night we will take up our position there, if on reflection it seems desirable, and watch the enemy.” “But why not make it our fort, and attack him from it?’” asked Julian, eagerly. The captain smiled gravely, and shook his head. few articles in a small bundle for a temporary aosence, : He showed Maggie the letter from Julian, and the messages the lad had, seat to ker, which made the young irl glow with delight. But her eyes sud- denly fliicd with tears, “You are going 40 him, Uncle Benny?” she said. “That is my purpose Meggia,” declared the old sailor, with great deliberawion, completing as he spoke the filling of a large money-belt from his money-box—the same he had shown Julian. “T may not be in time,’ be continued, ‘to find him before he sails and bring him back here, but T shall try it, at least, and lam taking with me money sufficient to follow him if need be to the end of the werld.” ‘Oh, if Tcould only go with you!” cried Maggie, elszaping ber hands. “There is no reason that I know why you can’t, Maggie,” said Uncle Benny, ‘except, of course, | the objection of the old frayed snifter, the squire, | and he’s only your step-father, at most, who mar- | ried your mother for her money, and she died a | rear after with his treatment, as everybody knows, “Not strong enough as it is,” he said, “but it! might be strengthened. We will see. But let us re- turn to breakfast. This watching and fasting and anxiety has left me very hungry, and a boy’s appe- tite is always good, I believe, eh! Julian?” Gonohidel the captain cheerfully. Julian assented, and they retraced their steps. or I wouldn’t mention it,” he added, half apologeti- cally. : : “No reason for you not going if you wish except that,” continued the old sailor, completing his pre- aratory packing up, laying down the bundle om a Ast a and taking her han “Why, how has the old whark been treating you lately?" he questioned. »¥

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A ET - ~n Her eyes filled again at the picture this question conjured up. “Rather cruelly, Uncle Benny, if I may tell you | the truth. He kept me locked up for two days after Julian went away, scolding me very much for my visits here, and threatening me severely if ZI came in future.” ‘Ay!’ said the old man, ‘‘it’s as I thought. Then why not go with me, Maggie. If I have no legal right over Julian, me loving him as I do, and he ear- nestly requesting it, then the squire certainly has | none over you, hating you as he must, by the token of his unkindness. I don’t see why this rule won't work both ways. Can you?” “Oh, sir, lam se young, and without experience, that I don’t know what to think,” “No matter, I know—and if you choose to go along with me you shall be my grandchild, Maggie, aud the heir to al! I leave behind me.” “Oh, Uncle Benny, you don’t expect to die?” “Me! DoTIlook like dying? It’s allus the other chap that’s a-going to die! mean to live seventy or eighty years yet, and shall probably beat eld Parr. He was a hundred and fifty-six. But I mustn’t stand swinging my jawing-tackle here; time’s pre- cious! Come! It will be a fine trip for you, and you will see the world. Soon’s I find Julian I shall bring him back here, and with his authority we will rout the old hippopotamus in his own law-jingle! Will you go? say the word, Maggie,” ‘*T will,” she declared, decisively. “Good my lass! You are already in the proper toggery, and we have only to start.’ ie seized the small bundle from ‘the locker and threw open the door, *Good-by, uncle,’’ said a hoarse voice, that star- tled them both. “Why, blow me, if it isn’t old Chock-a-block!”’ de- clared Uncle Benny, recovering from his start of sur- prise, and looking at the parrot. ‘‘I can’t leave him, fe must go too, You can take charge of him, Mag- gie, having nothing else to carry.” He took down the parrot, in its wire cage, and handed it to the young girl. picked up the bundle he had laid down, closed atid barred the single window of the cabin, and they. came out togeth or. “Tt is very lucky,’ he declared, as he locked the stout oaken door behind him, and _ placed the key in his pocket. ‘ The tide is at the full, and the schoon- er yonder just ready to sail. We must be nimble now, Magzyie,”’ he added, taking the route Julian had taken leading down to the beach below, almost as briskly as Julian himself could have done. They were not a moment too soon, for the schoon- er was already casting off her shore-lines as they reached the wharf; and no sooner were they on board than she shook out her reefs to a favoring breeze, and with every stitch of canvas drawing be- low and aloft, stood seaward. They reached New York./as Julian had done be- | fore them, without accident. It had been years since the old sailor had been in the great city, but no land-shark was likely to make any attempts to tackle him. To Maggie, however, the sight of the famous me- tropolis left a more indelible impression, if possible than it had upon Julian; but under the protecting care of the simple-hearted old sailor, she felt no ap- prehension. ‘ They went at once to the pier of the Hong Kong. They were too late by some hours; she had already sailed, and all hope of meeting Julian here was at an end. : Uncle Benny did not hesitate. never do, He looked about him for the first vessel to follow. A ship lying ata wharf adjacent was getting ready for dlepariure. A flag was flying at her fore. It was the Punjab. It will be remembered she was to have sailed the next day after Julian’s arrival, She had done so, But the carelessness of the skipper of a transport that was coming into the har- bor, as they dropped down the lower bay, had car- ried away a portion of her bulwark, and the Punjab returned to her wharf to make examination for fur- ther possible damage. Happily, however, it had been no more serious, and she was now ready to sail. As the Punjab was up for Calcutta, as well as Bombay—and he could find no other vessel going di- rect,to Hong Kong under some weeks—Uncle Benny concluded to join her. He accordingly went to the Shipping Office of the company that Julian had visited, produced his mon- ey-belt, which he had secured about his waist, and took tickets for himself and grandchild, as be termed Men of his mold aggie. “For the first time in his life, proposing,” he told the man of parchment face, confidentially, ‘‘to go asa gen’l’man passiger.”’ They were promptly on board, taking the parrot with them, which made itself at once a familiar fa- vorite by saluting the men on deck, with: “ Ahoy! ahoy!’’ at its very hoarsest. e Punjab sailed without further loss of time, and that afternoon from her deck, Uncle Benny pointed out to Maggie a faint gray line which he said represented the New Jersey hizhiosida: There were only a few passengers on board; among them a Japanese lady with her daughter, a girl of about Maggie’s age, who had been brought to eri- ea when a mere by'to grow up there and be ed- ucated. : peng a 4 ae. seen —_ a beauti- ul young girl 1€ CO speak several languages heaiaae rh own, and could like a fairy. Her mother, too, was a very gracious lady, though very stately, and was axcosdingly handsome; and The Sea Serpent. 9 Maggie learned, without any surprise, that she was a princess in her own country, and that there were some political reasons why she had been absent so long. But there had been a change of rulers—a new Mikado, Tycoon, or whatsoever the name of or rank | of the chief might be, and she was now going home to her former residence by way of India. The name of the lady, Maggie also learned, was the Princess Osaeca, and that of her daughter, from | whoo Magrie derived all her information, Jesso. Before they had been two days at sea, Maggie had formed a deep attachment for this young giri. Happily she herself was exempt from the distress- ing malady of sea-sickness; and Jesso was affected but slightly, while her mother, the princess, was very ill. Here Maggie's sea-coast experience enabled her to be of much service, for although the princess had attendants of her own, they, like herself, were sea- sick. Besides, had they béen well and experienced their ways were not the simple, artless ways of Maggie, nor could their touch of gentleness equal that of the considerate young girl. As a natural consequence the princess soon loved her, and as she grew better, and able to walk about, she questioned Maggie and learned the particulars of her short history, On hearing the story, which in a measure involved that of Julian and Uncle Benny, and the romantic and interesting search for his uncle, upon which the lad had entered, she sent for the old sailor, and a long conversation ensued between them. From this interview with the princess, Uncle’ Ben- ny came forth looking somewhat graver, but still with an air of profound satisfaction. The parrot, which had been given its liberty in ac- cordance with former usage, was taken in to see the princess at her request, and she was much amused with its monosyllabic replies to certain questions— questions, however, of rather a stereotyped ordery it must be admitted, It was noticeable that in the presence of Uncle Benny Chockablock invariably grew hoarser, as if he felt that the voice of the old sailor possessed far greater dignity than any other, and it was desirable to imitate his teacher in manner as well as words. After old Benny’s interview with, the princess, he was very often on deck with one of the young girls on each side of him—and he soon came to be con- sidered as a sort of guardian for Jesso, as well as for Maggie. And so until they were met by ‘‘a wave” of the same storm that the Hong Kong encountered, the good ship Punjab, for Bombay and India ports, sped on her cpurse. CHAPTER XIV. THE FIGHT WITH THE SEA SERPENT. On their return to the tent Julian and the eaptain made their breakfast, Which was somewhat less lim- ited as to quality—thanks to the canned meats and vegetables they had found with the ship's stores. ~ After breakfast they discussed the question of car- rying the war into Africa, as the captain termed it, whether they should make an attack on the sea | serpent, or wait to be attacked. Julian had heard of these terrors of the ocean, but he had never expected to see one or aid in its de- | struction. Meanwhile his opinion was that they could not be- gin too soon. With the weapons they now had he thought that the conquest of the monster would be comparatively easy. This enthusiasm pleased the, captain, and it was resolved to begin at once preparation for the con- flict. Whateyer else they had to do could be done after- ward, but there could be no feeling of safety in the present condition of affairs. The first thing to be done was to go off to the wreck and strengthen its resistive capacity by every means in their power. So declared Captain James, and as may be be- lieved, Julian was not slow to coincide with him in that opinion. They took with them the ax, saw and large auger, and going down to the water’s edge, where iay the float the captain had used, they got aboard and pad- dled out to the wreck, With the aid of the carpenter’s tools they had brought, as soon as they were on board the’ hulk, they Lac neta to replace that portion of the fore- castle bulkhead and planking that had been blown out or burned, Fortunately the loose timbers and planks lying about afforded pienty of material for this purpose and by Maga en Sip oy crosswise and endwise, anc doubling planks, they succeeded in converting the forecastle into a strong room with almost the re- sistive powers of a bomb-proof, Here and there they left openings the size of one’s wrist, or smaller, through which weapons could be thrust. And after the deck overhead had been Strengthened by transverse timbers, Julian bored with the large auger a series’ of holes commanding an easy view of the beach, and of the wall of ledge in front, and of the sea below, The hulk lying bow on, this was not difficult. By the time all this work of preparation was com- pleted the day was nearly at an end. They had made two or three visits to the shore, and now made a final one to bring off such things as they wanted for the night, including water and pro- vision, A careful examination of sea and sky, and the di- rection of the wind had satisfied Captain James that no storm was likely to spring 4 They ate their supper, saw the moon rise slowly and pradvaly: witha light almost like that of day, and they retired within their strong fortification. “With the advantages we now have, my boy.“ said the captain, ‘we shall give him a bard fight. ge may be here early, or may not until the moon is low dowm; probably may not come at all. In any ‘event, it will only be necessary for one to watch,”’ ‘**Let me be the one, then,”’ said Julian, eagerly. “As you like,” said the captain. ‘‘ But I hada good sleep last night, right here; though by no means so well sheltered and protected as now, and am feelin fresh, My arm, too, has ceased to pain me and is evi- dently doing well. Still, if you like, you can begin the watch. Tf you see anything waken me, and, in any event, call me when you get sleepy, or say about midnight.” He disposed his limbs comfortably, and lying down, was soon adieep. Moving softly about from one improvised porthole to another, Julian alternately watched and listened, but for a iong time saw no signs of any living or creeping thing. To his ears came the soft rippling of the waves, and far out to westward the dull roar of the surf. Time passed away, and Julian was beginning to grow drowsy, and remembering what the captain had said. he felt it to be his duty to awaken him. Yet he hesitated, and rubbing his eyes took one more look at the beach. The whole of its dark line nearest to him seemed to be moving. Or wasit a wave of unusual size? He looked again, and his sleepiness vanished at the in- stant. It was the sea serpent! The terrible creature, eighty, ninety, or perhaps a hundred feet in length, was just drawing itself out of the water. Three noiseless steps to the captain’s side, and Julian’s hand was upon his shoulder. ‘Tt is here,” he whispered, excitedly. Captain James was alert and on his feet instantly. He took a survey of the beach, “Hard at work already,” he declared, ‘and pro- poses to dine at our expense. “We have but one gun for long range, but for- tunately we have plenty.of ammunition. The re volvers will do for eae work, if he swims off to us. Statistics of battles show scientifically that it takes on an average two hundred and sixty pounds of lead to kill one man. I hope we shall do better than that, though his skin is tougher than the hide of a rhi- noceros. I will open fire on him at once, forI see that our rations are going fast. The eyes, throat and tail are the most vulnerable points. Take due notice, Julian, and govern yourself accordingly, if it comer to closer range. Stand by with the revolvers!” While speaking the captain thrust the rifle through a port-hole and fired, The sea serpent paid no attention to indicate that it was hit or had heard the discharge. The captein had loaded the other barrel with slugs, He now fired it with better effect. The huge reptile threw itself into a mighty coil— bearing some slight resemblance to the copper “worm ’’ of a poisonous distillery—with wondrous celerity, and with its terrible jaws apart and head rising to a hight of ten feet or more appeared to look around him for the aggressor. The captain gave the gun to Julian to reload, while | he took one of the revolvers. ) “The temptation is great;”’ he said to Julian, ‘* to try him with a pistol, even at this range. Perhaps it will reach him; IH try it.” He thrust out the revolver and fired the whole seven charges in rapid succession. The shots Vt ahi an however, only striking the creature and glancing off. He uttered a wild cry hike that they so well remem- bered, and launched itself in the air, straight toward the wreck, striking the water with a sound as if a ship’s mast had fallen flat wpon it. ““He’s coming,” cried Julian, excitedly, as he rammed down a final charge and capped the gun. **Now for it!" * Let him come, my boy,” said the captain, coolly. 3h a me the gun, and stand by with the other re- volver, As he spoke he fired both barrels at the advancing enemy. There was another cry of rage and pain. Replacing the gun by the revolver the captain dis- charged its loads in rapid succession—this time at much shorter range, and with excellent effect. There was no time to reload either weapons, and the fie instinctively caught up a knife. On the instant there came a crash against the bow, reaching clear over the strongly-braced deck to the other side, and, for a moment, wreck and tinbers shook and cracked, and trembled like pine twigs ina forest tornado. Well wasitfor them that they had taken the terrible enemy at a disadvantage. They hastily loaded the weapons, and watched —_ opportunity for a shet, which was soon offered them, The dark shining mask of its body moved slowly across one of the openings left between the timbers,, and Julian thrusting his pistol close, fired, while the captain at the same instant seizing the opportunity at another opening, drove his knife to the hilt in the monster, leaving it inthe wound. These effective results extorted another cry, fol- lowed by several successive crashes of deck and tim- bers as the maddened reptile lashed about with its tremendous tail, But the precautions taken by Captain James had not been in vain. Thus the deadly struggle continued till near morn- ing, when the violent efforts of the creature slacken: ed, and the huge body was heard to drop into the sea, and though they listened for some time intently, they could hear nothing further. eanwhile the moon having gone down, and the

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oe the gigantic wave had passed, the trees of “parted by the rock upon which 10 e Library. darkness that precedes dawn having supervened, and feeling weary with the struggle and satisfied that it had ended in victory—whether the serpent was dead or had made off to sea—the captain and Julian lay Aown and slept soundly until near midday. When they awoke the air was filled with the aries of birds, which Julian thought sounded like a chorus of thanksgiving. There was a long irregular line of whitish gray fn the water drifting out to sea, over which the birds were hovering in great excitement. The captain pronounced it to be the upturned corpse of the monster. They removed the barricades, and came out on the broken deck. It had taken, Julian estimated, more than one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition, and many thrusts of the long knives to win the conflict. But it was over, and henceforth they could now rest in peace, and with renewed hopes they re- vurned to the island and their tent on the summit. CHAPTER XV. THE TIDAL WAVE—ANOTHER SURPRISE. Tr balance of the day was occupied in gathering together combustibles for the beacon fire, of which the captain had previously spoken. It was placed on the highest point of ground, not far from the tent, and composed of the most inflammable material to be found on the island. That night they slept, especially the captain, in or ce of a security which had before been unf. it. They were quite busy the next forenoon, but after dinner they set. out for the rock at the east d of the island, taking with them a spade and a ew yards of sail-cloth, for the purpose of burying the skeleton, which purpose, as will be remem- bered, had been postponed by their fight with the sea. serpent. They found everything as they had left it on the w#eeasion of their former visit to the place. The bright sun, which had that day gilded the tree-tops, and the glassy surface of the little har- bor, and the whole top of the rock with a cheerful aspect of welcome, to-day shone dull and mistily, and the atmosphere, far from being clear as on the former visit, had in it a drowsy haze which the i remarked as presaging something un- usual, A nebulous gathering in the southern horizon, too, seenied to indicate, he thought, a sudden change. As there had been no ‘thick weather since their arrival on the island, he told Julian they must pre- pare for it by housing themselves more strongly on their return. ; Witli these incidental observations, they then ave their attention to the especial purpose that ad brought them to the rock. Tenderly, and with reverent hands, they gathered up the relics of frail mortality, wrapping them in the piece of sail. ‘ _ Descending the rock, they carried them to a oint midway between the grove and tent, where e sunshine rested all day. They opened a grave in the yielding sand. With uncovered heads they knelt, and the cap- tain uttered a brief prayer—part of the burial service at sea—and the solemn task was soon com- pleted. ( They returned to the rock. The slab in the niche, whereon the skeleton had rested, was distinctly outlined, but pe | so closely er - was found impossible without other tools to raise it. - Julian remembered the chisels that were in the sailor’s chest on the beach, and asked Captain James if he thought they would answer. ‘Just the thing, if we only had them,” was his Meng “Tl go for them at once,” declared Julian, start- ing off at a rapid pace, and a moment after the eaptain, looking down, saw him running through the grove, whistling cheerfully, as was his wont. The captain paced about a little outside, and then coming within the walls, sat down on a stone seat commanding a view from the small, round windows of the little harbor, and waited for the boy’s return, ow long he sat there he could not afterward recall, though not for long; but he was suddenly startled by hearing a terrible roar, unlike anything be had ever heard. It had in it something of the sound of a falling cataract—of distant thunder rolling momentarily nearer, and of the hissing sharpness of an advanc- me hg t myriads of birds A ¢ same moment myriads of birds, screaming ag sage > flew affrighted past. Captain James, with a premonition of danger strong upun him, sprung fo his feet and rushed out. As he did so, he saw the trees of the grove before and around him bowing low, to what seemed an immense wall of seething, driving foam, which whee itt af ~ aes and rowing its spray ever him, went rushing past like a mid-winter avalanche. ~ What had happened?_ He instinctively sprung toward the low stone door and grasped it clingingly, as he asked himself . the question. ; : Had the island suddenly sunk, or had the ocean suddenly risen to whelm him? Before his startled mind could solve the thought, the grove and he saw the mighty volume of on, “NK fidal wave” he exclaimed, as the truth burst upon him. “What a narrow escape! But great Heaven! Julian! Where is Julian?” In an instant he had clambered to the highest point of the rock, and was gazing toward the tent, with anguish in his face, Julian was not there! “we as he withdrew his glance, he .caught sight of im, Safe! hardly three rods distant he saw him caught | by a broken branch, and clinging in the top of one | of the tallest trees. + . . . | He called to him, and Julian answered cheerily | 2] . enough, but with evident amazement at his almost miraculous preservation, in his tones. The boy shook himself toose from the friendly limb that had caught him, and climbing down, came dripping and thankful to the top of the skeleton rock. The two castaways shook bands and embraced each other. Julian was on the beach, he told the captain, when | he first heard the roar of its coming. He had secured the chisels and put them in his pocket, and when he saw the long, dark line with its | white crest advancing, he started to run, but it over- | He | took him before he had taken a dozen steps. had felt himself caught up and borne irresistibly onward, and gave himself ~ for ne — he was 1es catching the broken | | and reeled backward, pale and shaking with emo- suddenly arrested by his clot branch, to whith he had instantly fastened with all his might and clung for life until the passing water | yielded him up, They knelt on the spot and gave thanks to the Giv- | er of all good, for their preservation. Laying aside his outer clothing, which was, of | course, thoroughly drenched, Julian produced the chisels, and after some little difficulty they succeeded in raising the slab, which proved to be about four inches thick, and turned it backward on its edge. A cavity, perhaps a foot in depth and width by three in length, was disclosed. There was a seaman’s cutlass, in a good state of preservation, and some few iron and brass articles | for culinary use, but the main object revealed within was a stout box of iron, bound at the corners and | edges with brass. . It oceupied more than half the space within. The captain took hold of it to lift it out, and ut- tered an exclamation of surprise at its great weight. “Twas correct, Julian,” he said, significantly, ‘‘in thinking that sure results would certainly follow your search for your uncle, We are evidently on the eve of a new discovery.” “You think this, then, some of the old pirate’s long-hidden treasure, sir?’ questioned Julian, taking hold of one end of the box. ‘Bearing in mind/the name and date on the face of the cliff, below,” replied the captain, “it looks like it, my boy.” He took hold of the other end of the box as he spoke, and it required their united efforts to raise it from its long repose. Resting it upon the edge of the niche, the light, which had grown faint, fell somewhat more strongly en it, and disclosed an inscription engraved on the ¢ “ See if you can make it out, Julian,” said the cap- tain; “‘a tremendous fog is rising seaward, and our | stay here must be brief,” he added, glancing out at | the window. Julian bent over the box. There was an engraved death’s head and cross- | bones, and underneath, in writing, a terrible denun- | ciation of any one who should open the box—save he whose name was engrav a on the side. Julian moved to permit the fast waning light to fall | upon the name, It was in large, eaplrae letters, much corroded, | C like the rest, by time and the elements, but it flashed upon him like lightning from a dark sky. __. ae name !—wonder of wonders!—was Benny Ha- VEN CHAPTER XVI. A BOAT AND A RESCUE, A storm so tremendous as that which had over- taken the Hong Kong, was not likely to have left the Punjab seathless. } But the course of the latter vessel was not in the | : ' attempt to find this unknown land. And it was at ey path of the hurricane, when she first felt its orce. When it did strike her, however, she was compelled to close-reef every sail, batten down the es and scud before it under bare poles: She was drivem widely from her course, but those on board were too thankful to have outridden a tempest in which they knew many a gallant ship had | gone down, to feel any special regret at a divergence that was not without remedy. The morning after the storm, as we know, rose | brightly upon the ocean, and the commander having | taken his bearings, not without surprise at finding himself blown so far from the regular track, was about resuming his course, when the voice of the | look-out at the mast-head was heard hailing the offi- cer of the deck. “What is it?’ questioned that official through his trumpet. ‘A boat, sir, I think, but I can’t just make if out.” | “Where away?’ demanded the officer, springing into the rigging. “Two points on the weather bow, sir.” By this time the commander was on deck, and or- dering the man at the wheel to bear up two points, he took the glass, and sprung up beside the officer, while a number of those in hearing, including Uncle Benny, clustered closer. 7) ; ‘** Mast head there!” Ay, ay, sir.” ‘Can you make her out yet?” | the erew, ut least, amon, = —— ae “A boat, sit, sure! and a movement on board. Two men I think, sir.” Springing lightly to the deck again, the comman- der ordered the yards squared, and the man at the wheel to run down to it. A few minutes showed that the look-out was cor- rect, that it was, indeed, a boat with somebody on board, In a few moments more they were within hailing. distance. A Two men were plainly seen standing up and way- ing a signal. : The sensation,on board the Punjab had increased. to quite an excitement, and passengers as well as crew were all clustering to the bulwarks on that side, and Uncle Benny had been joined by the two young girls, Maggie and Jesso. “How came they here, Uncle Benny, have they | been wrecked?” inquired Maggie. “Must have come in the boat, my dear,”’ was the old sailor’s practical reply. ‘‘ But, wrecked of course, and perhaps the only survivors.”’ “Oh, I hope not!” cried the two girls in chorus. They looked over the side. By this time the boat was coming under the quarter, and willing hands were dropping ropes into her, which were eagerly grasped. Uncle Benny gave one glance into the boat below, tion, “That name, Maggie,” he gasped hoarsely—“ that name on her gunwale, can you make itout? my eyes are dim.”’ Maggie uttered a cry. She could, alas! too surely, ‘‘The Hong Kong!” The name on the boat showed the ship to which it had belonged. The old sailor trembled for a moment like a main« | sheet shivering in the wind, with the two young girls © clinging to him on each side in excitement and alarm. But his was not the soul, to‘ blanch when, duty called. He rallied again on the instant, and bidding “ his two wards,” as he had lately called them, to remain quiet where they were, he went forward to where the © two men were being.drawn on board. It was the steward and purser—who it-will be re- membered disappeared from the gaze of Julian when | the mast of the Hong Kong went by the board. The same crash, it appeared, had carried away the | yawl boat, and they had found themselves in the water near it, and had seized upon it as drowning | men grasp at straws—with a gripe that nothing but death canloosen, : They had clung to it until daylight, when they had | sneceeded in righting and bailins; her ont. They were yery much worn and exhausted, and were immediately taken into the commander's cabin. Uncle Benny, at his request, accompanied them. While being suitably refret#e2d, they told their story. r In response to the oaget uestioning of Uncle Ben- ny, they told how they had last seen Julian standing with Captain James, on the bow, only a moment be- fore the Hong Kong struck. R The only glance they had of the land induced them to think it a huge, rocky reef, outlying a ne coast or smallisland, for they had been swept around © and past the point by a strong current, clinging to their overturned boat, and barely escaping being dashed to pieces among the breakers. And in hard asmany seconds as it took minutes to tell it, reef, | island and breakers vanished away leeward. Then arose the question between Uncle Benny and the commander, at this unsatisfactory conclusion, how far the mer must have drifted before they suc. ceeded in righting the yaw), and how far they had come since. : The rescued men could not say. They had no - means of knowing. The commander got out his charts and made an | extended examination, but could find no mention of any reef or island in the vicinity he supposed him- self to be. | What should be done in view of all the facts? It hardly required the earnest solicitations of Uncle: Benny, backed by the urgent entreaty of the Princess Osaeea to induce Lieut, Berry, the commander, to: once determined to cruise two or three days at least,. in that locality, in the hopes of finding it; or, per- panes of falling in with one of the other boats t had been launched. Many of the passengers, as well as the lieuterant- commander, had already heard from either Uncle Benny, or Maggie, Julian’s eet and the roman-, tic epee of his search for his uncle, Captain Kidd, ‘ The singular name of his uncle had, perhaps, given © to the boy's enterprise a greater interest than it oth- erwise would have had—added to which one-half whom the story had par- tially got wind, were of the firm opinion that the search was ent PA a treasure-sceking expedition, for the gold and hidden store of the old pirate himself, | and were not slow to declare their desire to join in a | search for the searcher. n’s encounter with the lan James at th rs of hig The story of Jv shark, and of his rescue by Captain critical moment, when the merciless fir betrayer were tearing his. mother’s Bi treasure from his unconscious clasp—had created animpression among the passengers very favorable to that gentleman; and it was with more than the ordinary regret due a stranger, that they heard of the disaatér to bin and his vessel ~ an @ princess, nap toge: was ened by the intelligence, she having met Captain Jameg — on what she called s memorable occasion, wh} i

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——_—___ making her preparations for sailing; and the inten- tion of Co.amanter Berry vw cruise fo. 2 sight of ‘he wreck, or the shore where it had struck, was reveived by ail on board with much satisfaction. Accordingly, additional look-outs were placed at the fore and masthead, and indeed, every one aboard ship, not otherwise engaged, might have been said to be on the look-out. The calmness of the ocean, and the exceeding clearness of the atmosphere, lent for a time fair hope to their efforts. Even the princess, herself, with Uncle Benny and the two young girls grouped by her, and the ship's lass in the hands of the old sailor, kept, perhaps, he keenest look-out of all. On the first day, however, they saw nothing but the vast troops of sea-guils that followed in their track. The second day they were more successful. > They wind and waves-—not a sail in or about her. Alas! for the crew that had launched her. Not till the sea gives up its dead shall they ever- more answer 10 the numbers of their mess. CHAPTER XVII. THE FIRING OF THE BEACON. Ir was the greatest surprise of allto Julian. The discovery of the name of old Benny Haven upon a chest supposed to contain pirates’ gold—on a desert island in mid-ocean, commenting on its significance, they became sudden- ly aware of the fact, that the dense fog of which the captain had spoken, had become almost palpable, Sky and sea and rock seemed to be obliterated in ’ the density of the mist that had come rolling in. They found it impossible to see ten fect away, and even while they looked at each other, they saw their figures assuming a vagueness of outline grotesque and almost alarming. “ What shail wé do?” asked Julian; “shall we at- tempt to take the box with us to the tent, or shall * we leave it here? Can we risk opening it?” “The last is a matter for future consideration,” said the captain; ‘“ but we had better leave it where it is for the present urpose of making t ence. 2 “Tt is safe here, at all events—too safe, Lam afraid. i ‘““My appetite warns me, as well as this impenetra- ble fog, aud the necessity of your making some change of clothing, that we had better be getting back to the tent. Let us start at once, my lad.” Suiting the action to the word, Captain James led the way down through the grove and up the slope, thinking as he went how liftle availed the discovery just made. For, had not the man, whose treasure it appeared to be, been doomed to years of isolation there— years Ne mingled hope and despair, ending at last in ea In the light of this thought, the finding of the box, and its subsequent guardianship, had no interest for Captain James. ‘o Julian, however, it was a matter of profound interest. His thoughts went ata bound across the ocean to Uncle Benny's cabin on the terrace, and he pictured _to himself the old man’s surprise and excitement when this unknown treasure from an unknown donor, perhaps, should be brought to him from over sea—discovered in the manner it had been by them. They reached the tent in safety, thantcs to the pi- lotage of Captain James, and after Julian had made shift to don some dry clothes, they proceeded to satisfy their appetites. ; 1 ho pe the tidal wave has not washed away what stores the sea serpent left us,’’ said the captain, in- cidentally. “4 “T hope not, si l grave face, for this was the first time he had thought he rock our future place of resi- r,” responded Julian, with rather a er i of the possibility. a. “Would it move the heavy cask, do you think, bee ’ sir?’’ he added, Be “Pasily enough,” said Captain James, “I re- . member a tidal wave on the gulf coast once that a took a government war steamer with its complete armament of men and guns, from its anchorage in the harbor a mile and a half inland, leaving her high and dry upon the broad prairie when the wave re- ceded, But of course that wave was fer more powerful than this, or at least this may have 8 much of its force, as it had probably tra¥eled thou- sands of miles before reaching here.” s * #7 was terribly swift, at all events,” said Julian, with the remembrance still strong upon him. * No race-horse could have caught me as quick.” _ “Certainly not,” was the response, “forthe good reason that in the deep and open ocean the velocity of the tidal wave is said to be a thousand miles an _ hour, though near the land it is much less.” Ju expressed his astonishment, “T sincerely hope, lrepeat, that it has not taken sll our rations on the beach,” continued the cap- - tain, “ for I believe we have not many in the tent.’ “No, sir,” replied Julian, with a sober face; “not more than enough for two days, I think, sir,’ getting " vs < ' 1 up and looking about him. “But it the worse comes to worst, * he added, brightening, “‘there are Hous the birds, sir. : _-_._ * Yes,’ assented the captain, inquisitively. ‘‘ But how will you get them? Ourammunition was nearly exhausted in the fight. Whatever is left on the the old hulk should still be left.”’ ‘But, sir,” said Julian, the shadows these words sover his young face Vanishing away, “it would ere i pty | long breath, encountered the long-boat of the Hong Kong, her | bow stove, and drifting helplessly, the sport of the | 4 While they yet pondered over it, wondering and | especially if we carry out our | e wreck is no doubt ruined—if indeed any portion of! not be necessary to use even what we have on them Captain James was standing near, fully revealed’ —anybody who has lived in the country knows how to trap birds, and—” ‘*Hark!” exclaimed the captain, suddenly inter- rupting, and starting to his feet, with one hand up- | raised warningly, in an attitude of listening. “Tt is nothing,” he added, after a moment, with a | “T thought I heard a | {in a tone | boat's crew start—*: Captain Kidd! almost a sigh. sound like the running out of a cable, as if some ship was Coming toananchor. Of course it could not | Pe a) 1 . rs. 9 . | sponse; ‘* Captain James Kidd! j “Twas about to add, sir, that in addition to the | be. Go on,” birds as food, there ought to be plenty of black-fish and sea-bass off the point there, if not clams and oysters, and no boy would starve on those.” ** Well, well, my lad,’ waz the response, “‘ we shall make the most of what we have, no doubt, be our stay here long or short.”’ He rose and paced up and down thoughtfully, while Julian stepped outside to take an observation. **Don't go far}’’ called the captain, after bim. ‘No, sir,”’ responded Julian, “I should have to al- most feel my way, sir, if I did, for though the fog appears to be clearing @ little, the coming night makes it fearfully dark.” Julian walked a few pores from the tent, straining his eyes to penetrate the fog and darkness, but the leaden-like opaqueness no glance, however keen, could penetrate six feet away. And as he came to this conclusion, Julian indulged in that habit for which boys from time immemorial, have been noted. He began to whistle. Not to “keep up his courage,” for this was no special oc- easion to call it in question, but from mere lack of thought, perhaps, and the well-known air of “The girl I left behind me,” rung out melodiously on the thick night air, for the | first time perhaps in the history of that unknown land. For two minutes, the light-hearted lad, whom no past perils could sadden,nor future foreboding dis- turb, whistled as merrily as he had done at home in the days now so old, when he was suddenly startled by a rush,of wings in the air above his head, and a large bird perched on his shoulder. ‘Hallo, Jule!” cried a hoarse voice, with a chuckle of satisfaction easily recognized. Jwian gave a shout of surprise, which brought Captain James speedily to the door of the tent. “What isit?’ he asked, as the boy came running | toward him. “See, sir; see!"? he exclaimed, excitedly, ‘‘ Uncle Benny's parrot.” ““ Are 'you sure, Julian?” cried the captain, as the boy entered the tent with the bird on his shoulder. ** Positive, sir,’ and addressing the parrot: ‘* You know me, old fellow? You know Jule?” “Ay! ah!” screamed the bird, at its very hoarsest. “This tops everything,” declared Julian. “How in the world could he have got here, sir?” There Was more excitement visible in the features of Captain James than Julian had ever seen there. on lad,’*he said, ‘* this means something! That sound that I thought I heard, so like the running out of acable! It must have been on shipboard. Our maleate may be at hand! Let us light the beacon at once He seized the tallow candle—a box of which had been found among the stores—and guarding its flame from the wind and damp with his hand, stepped out of the tent. ; The pile of combustibles which they had gathered ready for lighting were only a few feet away, and, in | amoment, the captain was kneeling at its base. “How fortunate,” he said, “that the tidal wave reached no higher, or we might have lost our mate- | Vial.” ae touched .the combustibles with the lighted candle, * ~ The flame shot up instantly, gathering volume as it rose, and ina minute it was towering twenty feet | | into the air. It dispelled the mist and vapor about, with the ce- lerity of thought, and threw a light far down the slope and over the water. e outlines of a large ship, evidently at anchor a short distance out, were dimly revealed. “Thank Heaven!” cried the captain, fervently, as he saw it. “ Forgetting everything but the relief it promised, they both swung their hats, and cheered with all the power of their lungs. : A commotion was instantly visible on board the vessel, and no doubt several night-glasses were brought to bear upon their figures, defined in bold relief against the bright background of fire. A mo- meut more, and a voice giving orders through a trumpet could be distinctly heard. A boat was lowered, and came swiftly pulled to ' Julian, followed at a slower step by Captain James, ran down to the water's edge to meet it. It touched the shore, and three or four men sprung out—among them a stout) figure—the boy had last seen fading away on the cabin terrace the day he had left home, “Uncle Benny!’’, * Julian!’’ . : And they rushed into each other’s arms, ekor a moment there was utter silence—save the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat and on the shore. **God bless you, my lad,” cried the old man in deep emotion, _ ‘“Amen—and Ged bless us all! Uncle Benny,” said another voice behind, reverently. The old sailor turned on the instant. Something in the tones he had evidently recog- 4 | in the light of the boat’s lantern held aloft by one of 4 the men. He was holding out his hand and smili a glad recogp#ion to Uncle Benny, while Julian ooked, from one to the other, thunderstruck. ; “Captain Kidd!” exclaimed the old sailor, as he grasped the extended hand in atone which made th “Yes, Unéle Benny—yes, Julian!’ was the re- CHAPTER XVUL AND LAST. Tue story of The Sea Serpent is herein drawing to a close. Julian and Captain James returned with Uncle t Benny and the boat's crew to the ship, and in a few words before reaching it, the captain explained that he had many years ago legally disclyded the om- inous name of Kidd, making his Christian name of James do doubie duty. ' He further explained that he had not made him- self known to Julian, heretofore, much as he had de- sired to do so, because of his desire to study the boy's character without his being influenced by the knowledge of kinship. But he was now, he told Uncle Benny, fully satisfied of the lad’s thorough un- selfishness and noble heart. In which verdict the old sailor ‘Be coincided. ~ They were received on board the Punjab with quite an ovation, in which, as may be presumed, the rincess and her daughter, and Maggie were not the east active, nor the last to extend their warmest congratulations. i They remained on board that night without return- ing to the island—the time being more than occupied by the explanations on both sides. The discovery of the strong box bearing the name of Benny Haven, with all the incidental particulars, the location of the rock, the finding of the skeleton, and other details, were duly made known to Uncle Benny by Julian; the old man listening with rapt at- tention till the conclusion was reached. “Poor Ned!” he then remarked, quietly, while a few tears rolled down his sunburnt face, ‘*Poor Ne I'd have never thought he’d ’a’ come to such an en as that! for, of course,” he declared, turning to those about him, ‘‘ you understand, my hearties, all, that it was my old messmate, Ned Trusthim.” ‘*Why, Uncie Benny, I would never have thought of him,” declared Julian, wonderingly. ‘And yet Thad your Ictter to him, too, and ought to have thought. Yet how came you to know it was your, old messinate without seeing what’s in the box?” “By the token, my dear boy, that I never know'd anybody else who had a box that_would leave it to me! You will see in the morning I am right.” While this conversation was taking place on deck between Uncle Benny and Julian, surrounded sf Maggie, Jesso, and a group of eager listeners, includ- i ing Chack-a-block, the parrot, who was perched up behind Uncle Benny, as if conscious of being the first discoverer, Captain James was giving his ver- sion of their story to the princess, Commander Ber- ry, and some others, in the cabin. He had learned of the commander's picking up the two men—indeed, they had been among the first to welcome him as he came aboard the Punjab. And he now learned also of the extended search that had been made for the island, and of the fact that the Punjab owed her present position mainly to the ac- cident of having been struck by the tidal wave, that had swept over the island. The vessel had been driven almost wholly at its mercy for a time, and rca oe in shoal water off the island, where they had anchored, the rising fog and . we soundings giving a decided preference for light. . The next morning happily was clear, and, after breakfast, led by the commander, everybody who could be —— was permitted to go ashore. A special party, consisting of mmander v; Uncle Benny, the princess, Captaih James, Julian, the two girls, and a couple of men, detailed for the pur- pose, went direct to the rock, which was duly in- spected and wondered at by all. ; The box, under Uncle Benny’s sanction, was then opened with due solemnity. It contained a large quantity of gold and silver, some in coins of various nationalities, some in and ingots; enough, altogether, to make Uncle Ben- ny comfortable for life, and to leave his heiress, ashe told Magzie, a nice little plum to share with Julian, At whic <8 the young girl blushed very brightly, indeed. The box also contained a letter, and some other papers, wrapped in oil-skin, from Ned Trusthim, ex- plaining brietly his oe on the islan and, of: course, proving Uncle Benny's surmise of the night before correct. + Peor Ned, it appeared, had been to the coast of. Africa, in furtherance of his intention of becoming a king. Tie had led a wild kind of life, darkly hinted at in connection with the slave-trade. Had amassed this prize-money found in the box, and bad set out on his return to America, to enjoy it. $ ino ' The ship had foundered at sea, and he and twoof his companions only, had reached this island ina boat—a boat that had been stove, in the breakers. | Each of his companions, one of whom had been in a cod a stone-mason, had pan porated aoa = a e four years succeeding ; himself. tiie of the writing, for six months the sole survivor, — knew he was dying. rhe. This, with some other particulars, for hisold mes =—__ mate’seyesalone. ~ Tare ¥ He had discovered, while here, as any one elso

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12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library ‘would do, who took the trouble to land, that the igland had once been a haunt of pirates. tain Kidd—and he had found preserved in a bottle, ¢ chart, wherein was laid down clear information of yarticular localities where Kidd had concealed his Tieturk, which chart Ned Trusthim left his old mess- mate, Benny Haven, as he did all and singular, whatever he possessed. One of these hiding-places duly marked on the ehart, was at the bottom of the great cistern. He and his companions had sounded it, and found trhat they believed to be a big square chest at the luttom, which they had never been able to get out, -—of Cap- | being unable to drain off the water, although they | had hewn steps, for greater ease in getting at it, be- fore their interest init had cied out, along with the final hope of escape from the island. ‘‘ Poor Nedt”’ Said Uncle Benny, commiseratingly, after Julian had finished reading the letter. ‘So his long-wished-for kingdom was at last comprised only in this one little island.” “Tt was, indeed, hard for him, after he had set his heart on being a king,” said Julian, aside to Maggie. “I would much ratuer be a prince some- vhere else.” ‘Perhans you may be yet—who knows?” response of the young girl, in the same tone. The box was duly shut again and fastened, and in was the without toil, and no life without a burden; and with- out honest, steadfast labor there can be neither rest nor reward. If, then, You are digappointed in seeking for fruits in trees you have not planted, take encouragement in theso my parting words— YE are not the first fools who have sought for Kidd’s treasure, nor will ye de the last!” There was neither signature nor date. “Rather a severe joke on us!’ commented Capt, James to those about him—smiling at the rueful and disappointed faces around him. ‘*Pirite Capen good preachee! all same—hab less buz—buz—and more baked pig!’ muttered one of the steward’s men—a Chinaman, which was follow- ed by a laugh and brighter faces, “Never mind, my lads,” said Captain James cheerily, to the crew, “‘ you shall not go unrequited for your labor. Fortunately I still have, despite the loss of, my ship, of which I was chief owner, some- thing to my credit in the Bank of England. And I | hereby authorize your commander,” turning to that oe ¥ ’ | 9 | similar distribution from me! charge of the two men detailed by the commander | was conveyed aboard ship and deposited in Uncle not been without foundation. All the stores had been washed away by the great tidal wave, and the ship’s hulk had entirely disap- peared. ‘Our arrival was none too soon,” said the princess to Captain James, when these facts were ascer- tained. “An arrival for which I shall never cease to be grateful to you,” was his response. **¥You dome too much honor,” was her negative reply, her black eyes flashing under her long lashes, and with a rising flush on her cheeks. They moved leisurely up the slope, followed by | Julian and the girls, whither the commander and Uncle Benny and most of the crew and passengers had already preceded ‘them, on their way to the great cistern. The statement that a large chest of Captain Kidd's long-hidden treasure was af the bottom of if, and the declaration of Captain James, confirmed by Uncle Benny, as legatee of the discoverer, that whatever was found should be equally divided, had produced ansunwonted excitement, Accordingly, that afternoon, as soon as the neces- sary appliances could be procured, Julian and the captain, with a detail of men from the Punjab, went to work to drain the cistern. This they soon found was no easy task. Tt required the whole day and a part of thé next before a channel could be cut through the solid rock deep enough, and with fall enough to empiy it to the bottom, This labor was watched and cheered forward by all the passengers and those of the crew unoccu- pied, and with a special interest by_the Princess saeca, and the young girls Jesso and Maggie, At last, however, the task was accomplished, the water got lower and lower, and the treasure was revealed. A huge, square chest of iron reposing at he bot- tom, so’ corroded with rust that the outlines of its original construction could hardly be traced. A large hawser was brougut and passed round it, At first it seemed alimost as immovable as the rock itself, but at length it yielded, m6ving slowly from the bed of its long repose, and was dragged remorse- lessly ont. By this time the curiosity of all was greatly ex- cited, as may be supposed, and the chest was in- stantly surrounded. That this was a portion of the long-hidden trea- sure of the ancient freebooters, was sufficient to raise expectation to fever heat, and speculation was rife among the crew, and. bets offered as to the amount of money it contained, and whether it was in Spanish doubloons, Mexicsn dollars, or ingots aud bars, such as were in Uncle Benny's box, That the treasure was’ impiense was evident, so it was arguéd, from its weight. The chest was so incrusted, that neither lock nor hinges were visible or traceable, and for all outward evidence to the contrary, it might have been a solid mass of iron. A sledge and crow were hastily brought to burst it open. | man passiger.’ gentleman, who stood behind him, “to distribute among you one thousand glollars in gold on our ar- vival in port—as a pleasant memorial of this adven- ture here.”’ ‘And your commander is authorized to make a said the princess. These announcements were received with a great deal of cheering, and the group around the iron chest speedily dissolved; each man declaring confidential- ly to his immediate neighbor, his belief that old Captain Kidd never left any treasure anywhere. One who had been the most zealous in emptying the cistern, aftirmed his entire conviction that there never was such a manas Kidd—the pirate. To which his more philosophic hearer—who han- pened to be Uncle Benny, demurred ; but asserted that the words contained in the paper found weald still hold true, were it otherwise: ‘* No treasure is equal to a contented mind, and no happiness so great as that of the cheerful spirit!” That afternoon—and a bright and lovely one it was, they weighed anchor, and the Punjab resumed het course for Bombay and the Hast. They took with them many mementoes of the island. Captain James, after earnest consultation with Julian and Uncle Benny, had decided to return di- rect to India, taking them with him. Accordingly, two days thereafter, when the Pun- jab spoke a steamer bound for New York, in addi tion to the usual passengers’ letters sent by her, Captain James forwarded to his agents a detailed account which he had prepared concerning the los of the Hong Kong, and his destination homewar He also sent to his agents’ lawyer an authorization from him, as Julian's natural and chosen guardian, with instructions to ta immediate legal proces ings against Squire Lawson for his usurpation in th name of the law. The passage out to Bombay was marked by no further incident necessary to record herein—sayve, perhaps, that Captain James's attention to the prin- cess became of a very decided character, and if was more than rumored that a wedding would be happy result at the close of the voyage. Which consummation, his nephew, Julian, bei more interested perhaps than any one else, c approved, as be vold Magerie, and Uncle Benny; for they could now all live happily together, as.became fast friends who loved. each other, in the new coun- try to which they were going. Unele Benny spent most. of his timé, in/his state- room, studying Capt. Kidd's chart—as he termed the paper left him by poor Ned Trusthim, spending many hours (with his ‘rot looking gravely om) and with Julian and the girls poring oyerit, and thus as he expressed it, on the day of arrival—'t he had not altorether lost his time by going to sea as “‘a yven'l’- ’ at thie hig On landing at Bombay a) telegram by cable from his agents’ lawyer in New, York, informed Captain Janes, that his Instructions had been complied with promipry and that Squire Lawson had fled, having yeen charged with nialfeasance in office and em bezzlement, This last information was all that was wanting induces the princess to take Maggie to her home a heart, and she declared it to be her intention, formally adopt her as Jesso’s sister, I would gladly linger, in the interest of my half million readers, over the gayety and festivities, wit which the oecasion of the marriage of the prince: to Captain Jemes was celebrated, and honored ; for, I am assured that no more joyous event has tran to nd to | pired anywhere. A few vigorous blows did the work: the chest fell | one and all—ti) we meet again—a most cordial asunder—and what a treasure was revealed! it was packed full of stones, the same sandstone formation that composed the ledge. The only thing in addition thereto was a small, round roll wrapped.in some kind of cloth, which fell way in decay on its being lifted out. It was a small proof-glass, such as is used in test- ing spirits. ; On being held to the light, it was seen to contain a thin rou of writing paper, The cork was removed, the paper taken out and unrolled by Captain James in the midst of a small sea of upturned faces, variously filled.with wonder- ment, curiosity and disappointment, ; It contained the following words in plain writing, in a remarkably good state of preservation “TO YOU who shalt hear these words—-KNOW THIS, That no treasure is equal w a contented api and no happiness so great as that of the cheerft epirit, Kxow TEIS, also, That there is no pleasure wih mh COE ee | f tat a Peas a te ‘ SoMa A pr ean ey ne And of one fact we may be positive—that from that moment dated anew the beginning of bappic: days than any of cur characters had ever known, ‘ith which pleasant assurance, I bid my readers, adieu. THE END. THE Dime Dialogues No. 32 Containing eighteen Minor Dramas. steele arch iy Rurlesques, Farces. Dress and Humorous Pieces, fé the Amateur Stage, Parlors. Schools and Exhibitions. All original and by favorite authors, professors, teachers and amateurs. For’ sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on | receipt of price—ten cents. | BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS Speakers. . Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprising the best collee- tion of Dialogues, Dramas and Recitations. The Dime Speakers embrace twenty-iour volumes, iz. . American Speaker. 2, National Speaker. Z 3. Patriotic Speaker, 4. Comic Speaker. 5.. Klocutionist. | er, 6. Humorous Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. 7. Standard Speaker, | 20. Select Speaker. 8 | / vi 1 15. Komikal Speaker. 16, Youth’s Speaker. 17, Eloquent Speaker. 18, Hail Columbia Speak- 3. Stump Spealser. 9, Juvenile Speaker. ). Spread-Eagle Speaker 21. Funny Speaker. 22. Jolly Speaker. 23. Dialect Speaker. 4. Recitations and Read ings. surlesque Speaker. 1 11. Dime Debater. 12. Exhibition Speaker. 13. School Speaker. 25. 14. Iudicrous Speaker. These books are replete with choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. 75 to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em- brace thirty-two books, viz.: Dialogues No, One. Dialogues No. Lighteen. Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Nineteen. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Twenty. Dialogues No. Twenty-one. Dialogues No. Twenty-two, Dialogues No, Twenty-three. Dialogues No. Twenty-four Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No, Six, Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No, Hight. Dialogues No, Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-six, Dialogues No. Ten, iDialoguesNo. Twenty-seven, Dialogues No. Meven, Dialogues No, Twenty-eicht, Dialogues No, Twelve. Dialogues No, Thirteen, Dialogues No, Fourteen. Dialogues No, Pifteen. Dialogues No, Sixteen. Dialozues No. Seventeen 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book. Twenty-nine Thirty. Thirty-one, Thirt y-two, Thirty-three, Dialogues No. Dialogues No. Dialogues No. Dialogues No: Dialogues No. Dramas and Reading's. 164 {2m> 20 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Ame ateur Stage, comprising: Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, D ess Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesane, by «ted writers; and Recitations and Readings, new nd standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof, A, M. Russel) Pages. HAND-BOOKS. DIME Young People’s Series. e Beapv.ie’s Dive Hanp-Booxs ror Youna PEOPLE cover a wide range of subjects, and are 2spécially adaptea to their end, Ladies’ Letrer-Writer, Gents’ Letter-Writer. lortune-Teller. Book of Etiquette. | Lovers’ Casket. Book of Verses. . Ball-voom Companion, 300k of Dreains. Book of Beauty. Book of Games. Lives of Great Americans. I.—George Washington. | VITI,—Israe] Putnam. TI.-—John Paul Jones. | X.—Tecumseh, TH.—Mad Anthony Wayne X1.—Abraham Lineoln. 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= B |E)’s|= i} i D|I|M|E|=|L|1 [B/R/A|R/y. newcomers. \1 A Hard Crowd; or, Gentleman Sam’s Sister. By Philip £. Warne. 2 The Dare-WDevil; or, The Winged Witch of the Sea. By Col. P. Ingraham. 8 Kit Carson, Jr., the Crack Shot of the West. By Buckskin Sam. 4 The Kidnapper; or, The Great Shanghai of the Northwest. By Philip 8. Warne. & Whe Fire-Fiends; or, Hercules, the Hunch- back. By A. P. Morris. 6 Wildeat Bob, the Boss Bruiser By Ed- | “ward L, Wheeler. ¥ Death-Notch, the Destroyer. By Oll Coomes, 8 The Headiess Horseman. Bv C»ptain / Mayne Reid. 9 Mandy Andy. 0 Vidocg, the French Pol'ze Sp” Himself. f : 1 Midshipman Easy. sy Captuin Marryat. 2 The Death-Shot; or, Tracked To Death. 3 3y Samuel Lover. Written by By Captain Mayne Reid. Puthaway }; or, Nick Whiffles, the old Trap- per of the Nor’west. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 14 Thayendanegea, the Scourge 3 or, The War Eagle of the Mohawks. By Ned Buntline. 15 The Tiger-Slayer; or, Eagle-Head tg the Rescue. By Gustave Aimard. 16 The White Wizard; or, The Great Provhet of the Seminoles. By Ned Buntline, 17 Nightshade, the Robber Prince of Hounslow Heath. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 18 The Sea Bandit. By Ned Buntline. “ 19 ted Cedar, *~s Prairie Outlaw. By Gusvave : Aimard. : ( '20 The Bandit». Bay; or, The Pirates of the Prairies. By Gustave Aimard, ‘21 bs Trapper’s Daughter; or, The Out- j law’s Fate. By Gustave Aimard. 22 Whitelaw; or, Nattie of the Lake Shore. ' By Dr. J. H. Robinson, f {23 The Red Warrior; or, Scela Delorme's 4 Comanche Lover. By Ned Burtline, 124 Prairie Flower. By G. Aimard. 25 The Gold Guide; or, Steel Arm, the Regu- lator. By Francis Johnson. 26 The Death-Track 3 or, The Outlaws of the Mountain. By Francis m ohnson. 27 The Spotter Detective. By A. W, Aiken. 28 Three-Fingered Jack, the Road-Agent of \ the Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. (29 Niger Dick, the Faro King; or, The Cashier's Crime. By Philip S, Warne, 130 Gospel George}; or, Fiery Fred, the Outlaw. ) By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 81 Tine New York Sharp; or, The Flash of Lightning. By Albert W. Aiken, 2 Bhoys of Vale; or, The Scrapes of a Hard Set of Collegians. By John D. Vose. 8 Overland Kit; or, The Idyl of White Pine. ‘By Albert W. Aiken, 84 Rocky Mountain Rob. the California Outlaw. By Albert W. Aiken. 5 Kentuck, the Sport; or, Dick Talhot at the Mines. By Albert W. Aiken. 6 Injun Dic or, The Death Shot of Shasta. By Albert W. Aiken. : iS7 Eirl, the Hunchback, or, Toe Sword- | maker of t e Santee. By Dr. J. H, Robinson. 838 Velvet Hands; or, The Iron Grip of Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aik*-- 89 The Russian Spy 3... che Brothers of the Starry Cross, By Captain Fred. Whittaker, 40 The Long Haired ** Pards:” or, The Tartars of the Plains. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 1 Gold Dan; or, The White Savage of the Great Salt Lake, By Albert W. Aiken. 42 Whe California Detective; or, The Witches of New York, By Albert W. Aiken, 3 Dakota Dan the Reckless Ranger; or, The Bee-Hunters’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes. 44 Old Dan Rackback, the Great_Extarmina- tor; or, The Triangle’s Last Trail. Oll Coomes, 5 Ola Bull’s Bye, the Lightning Shot of the Plains, By Jos. E. badger, Jr. 46 Wowile-Knife Ben, the Little Hunter of the Nor’-West. By Oll Coomes. 7 Pacific Pete, the Pri~ “e060 J Fn E. Badger, Jr. ' 8 Idaho Tom, the You. Outlaw of Silverland; or, the Hunters of the Wild West. By Oll Coomes, 49 The Wolf Demon. By Albert W. Aiken. 60 Jack Rabhit, the wig Sport, By Jos. E. Badger, Jh. 4 a ek ee Roaa-agent’ By Ol Coomes. } ‘ ‘ 5 13 Revolver, By 2 Death Truaxter, the Chief of Sconts; or, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Buffalo Bill. 63 Silver On hone The Mystery of Deadwood City. By Col. Delle Sara. 54 Always On Hand, By Philip $8, Warne. 44 moe eet aA eer ee y Capt. Mayne Reid. ae n Mazeppa; or, The Madman of the Plains. By A. We Rikon, e0 wide Awake "the Hobber Kin w e wake e r - , 60 Idiot of the Black Hills, By Frank i, ot 9, The 61 capale Seawaif, the Privates Sy Ned e, : 62 Loyal Heart; or, Th Trappers ot Aa <ansus, ustave Aimard { 3 ; A. W. Aiken, a ouble-Sight, the Deatu Shot; or, The Ou w of the B Buntlin he Winged Whalk, the Cha y Jos. E. » JT. Whe Red Rajah or, The Sco of the ©5 Tliss By Cart. 2, | 66 The Specter Barque. | | | | 70 Mydrabad, tne ee eee, | jap eel ie Ae CRON e | 68 The = @ S By Mayne ma at 67 The Boy Jockey. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. | Fighting ‘Trapper; or, Kit Carson to the Rescue. By Captain J. fF. CG. Adams. 69 The Irish Captain. By Capt. F.Whittaker. Strangier; o¢, Alethe, the | Child of the Cord. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 71 Captain Cool-Blade3; or, The Man-Shark | of the Mississippi. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72 The Phantom Hand3 or, The Heiress of Fifth Avenue. By A. W. Aiken. 73 Whe Knights of the Red Cross; or, The Magician of Granada. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74 The Captain of the Rifles; or, The Queen | of the Lakes. By Capt. Mayne Reid. Gentleman George. By A.W. Aiken. } Whe Queen’s Musketeers} or, Thisbe, the | Princess Palmist. By George Albany. The Fresh of Frisco, By A. W. Aiker The Mysterious Spy. By A. M. Grainger. Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. By A.W. Aiken. A Man of Nerve. By Philip S. Warne. The Human Tiger; or, A Heart of Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. 32 Kron Wrist, the Swordmaster. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 83 Gold Bullet Sport. By Buffalo Bill, 84 Hunted Down; or, The League of Three, By Albert W. Aiken. 85 The Cretan Rover; or, Zuleikah, the Beautiful. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 86 The Big Munter; or, The Queen of the Woods. By theauthor of “ The Silent Hunter.” 87 The Scarlet Captain; or, The Prisoner of the Tower. By Col. Delle Sara. 8 Big George, the Giant of the Gulch; cr, The Five Outlaw Brothers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 89 The Pirate Prince. By Col. P. Ingraham. 90 Wild Will, the Mad Ranchero; or, The Ter- rible Texans. “By Buckskin Sam. $1 The Winning Oar; or, The Innkeeper’s Daughter, By Albert W. Aiken. 92 Buffalo Wili, the Buckskin King; or, The Amazon of the West. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr. 93 Captain Dick Talbot, King of the Road; or, The Black-Hoods of Shasta. By A. W. Aiken. 94 Freelance, the Buccaneer; or, The Waif of the Wave, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 95 Azhort, the Axman; or, The Secrets of the Ducal Palace. By Anthony P. Morris. 96 Double-Death; or, The Spy Queen of Wyo- ming. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 97 Bronze Jack, the California Thoroughbred. By Albert W. Aiken. 98 The Rock Rider; or, The Spirit of the Sierra. By Capt. Frederic < Whittaker. 99 The Giant Rifleman. By Oll Coomes. 100 The French spy; or, The Bride of Paris. By Anthony P. Morris. 1 The Man From New York ; or, The Ro- mance of a Rich Young Woman. By Aiken. 102 The Masked Band; or, The Man With- out & Name. 5 Rael L. Aiken. 108 Merle, the Mutineer; or, The Brand of the Red Anchor, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 104 Montezuma, the. Merviless; or, The Ragle and the Serpent. By Col. P. Ingraham. 105 Dan Brown of Denver, the Rocky Moun- tain Detective. By Joseph B. Badger, Jr. 106 Shamus O’Brien, the Bould Boy of Glin- R. By Col. Delle Sara. 107 Richard Talbot ot Cinnabar ; or, The Brothers of the Red Hand. By A. W. Aiken. 108 The Duke of Diamonds; or, The Flower of Caleutta. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 109 Captain Kyd, the King of the Black Flag. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 110 The Silent Rifleman. By H.W. Herbert. Dor WMaFa¥ab aFas mo Cee By Colonel 111 The Smuggler Captain; or, The Skip- er’s Crime. By Ned Buntline. 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League of the Skeleton Keys. By A. W. Aiken, 113 The Sea Slipper Los he Amateur Free- booters. By Prof, J. H. Ingraham. 114 The Gentleman From Pike; or, The Ghost of the Canyon., By Philip 8. Warne. 115 The Severed Hendy or, The Secret 4 Castle Coucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker 116 Black Plume, the Devil of the Sea. ty Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 Dashin Danny the Hotspur of the Hills. By Major angerfield Burr. 118 The urglar neces or, The Fallen Star. By Prof. J. H. m. 119 Alabama Joe; or, The Yazoo Man-Hun- ters. a Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Texan Spy; or, The Prairie Guide. By Newton M. Curtis, 121 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Rigo- latts. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 122 Saul Sabberda the Idiot Spy; or, Luliona, the Seminole. By Ned Buntline. 123 Alapaha, the Squaav ; or, The Renegades of the Border. By Francis Johnson, 124 Assowaum, the Avenger; or, The Doom of the Destroyers. By Francis Johnson, 125 The Blacksmith Outlaw; or, Merry England. By Harrison Ainsworth. 126 The Demon Duelist; or, The League of Steel. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 127 Sol Scott, the Masked Miner; or, Dan Brown's Double. By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr. 128 The Chevalier Corsair, By the author of ‘* Merle the Mutineer.”’ 129 Mississippi Mose; or, A Strong Man’s acrifice, By Edward Willett. 130 Captain Volcano 25 The Man of the Red Revolvers. A. W. Aiken. 131 Kbuckskin Sam, the Texas ee ett The 1 aT Randits ot the Bravo. By Col. P. rag, We Shalt eg DOT ok) tee 8 ae 5 SD a ia abi) Fin ab sda 3) Be Bt ual See Nm Da howaL Wiss ae et 8 i, BA. 132 | 133 | 134 135 | 12.6 137 | 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 146 146 147 148 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 151 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 The Three Guardsmen. Dumas. Nemo, King of the Tramps. By Cape} Frederick Whittaker, Rody, the Rover, the Ribbonmar of Ire* Jand, By William Carleton. Darkie Dan, the Colored Detective; or, Thé Mississippi Mystery. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Bush Ranger; or, The Half-Breeé Brigade. By Francis Johnson, The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Red Jobn, the Bush Ranger. By Francis Johnson. ; Spy. By og Leng Beard, the Giant Coomes. The Border Bandits; or, The Horses Thief’s Trail. By Francis Johason \ Fire-Eye, the Sea Hyena; or. The Bride of a Buccaneer, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Walker, Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock; or, Dan Brown’s Masterstroke. By Joseph. E, Badger, Jr. Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron Face. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr The Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist League, By Col. T. H. Monstery. The Hunchback of By Victor Hugo. Pistol Pards3 or, Soft Hand, the Silent S ort from Cinnabar. By Wm. R. Eyster. The Doctor Detective 3 or, The ie based of the Golden Coffin. By George Lemuel. Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas. By Col Prentiss Ingraham. One-Armed Alf, the Giant Hunter of the Great Lakes. By oll Coomes. The Border HKifies. By Gustave Aimard, El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen, By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. ; Notre- Dame, The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard. Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief. By Marmaduke Dey. whe White Scalper. By Gustave Aimard$ Joaquin, the Saddle King. By Joseph EK, Badger, Jr. The Corsair Queen; or, The Gipsies of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Velvet Face, the Border Bravo; or, Muriel, the Danite’s Bride. By Dangerfield Burr. Mourad, the Mameluke; or, The Three Swordmasters. By Col. Thomas H, Monstery. The Doomed Dozen; or, Dolores, the Danite’s Daughter. By Dr. Frank Powell. Red Rudiger, the Archer; or, The Lady Bertha’s Treachery. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Soft Hand, anete he Man With thé r. , Sand. By Wm. R. Ey. : ‘ The Wolves of New Yorks or, Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt. By A. W. Aiken. The Mad Mariiuer; or, Dishonored ang Disowned, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 Ben Brion, the Trapper Captain: or, Reds) path, the Avenger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. L The King’s Fool; or, The Knights of the Clasped Hands and Red Branch. By C. D.Clark,: Joaguin, the Terrible. By J. E. Badger, Jr: Ow let, the Robber Prince; or, The Unknown Highwayman. By S ptimus R. Urban, The Man of Steel; or, The Masked Knight of the White Plume. xg ten P. Morris. Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger Don’s Double. . By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Corporal Cannon, the Man of Forty Duels, By Col. Thomas Heyer Monstery. Sweet William, the Trapper Detective, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Wiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or The Dumb Baudit. By Philip S. Warne. Che Black Pirate; or. The Mystery of the Gol’en Fetters. By Col. P. Ingraham, California John, the Pacific Thorough: bred. By Albert W. Aiken, The Phantom Knights. By Capt. Fy Whittaker. Wild Bill's Trump Card; or, The Indian} Heiress. By Major Dan erfield Burr. Lady Jaguar, the Robber Queen. By Cay tain Mark Wilton. Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair; or, The Rivals of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Dark Dashwood, the Desperate; or, The Child of the Sun. By Major Sam S$. Hall. Conrad, tha Convict; or, Was He Guilty = Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve, LL. D. Old 949; or, The Amazon of Arizona. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ( Whe Scarlet Schooner}; or, The Nemesis of the Sea. By Co). Prentiss Ingraham. Hands Up; cr, The Knights of the Canyoy By Wm. R. byster, Gilbert, the Guide}; or, Lost in the Wi derness. By C. Dunning Clark. The Ocean pare eg te or, The Heiress of Castle Curse. By Col. Prentiss am, ° The Man Spider; or, The Beautiful Sphing, By Anthony P. Morris. he Black Bravo; or, ‘The Tonkaway’s pa By Buckskin Sam. The Death’s Head Cuirassiers; ot; Brave of all Braves, By Capt. Fred. Whittaker, The Phantom Mazeppa; or, The Hyent: of the Cha als. By Maj. Dangerfield Wilda Bill’s Gold Trail; or, The Despes: ado Dozen. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. \ A new issue every Wednesday. - Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale as ewsd ealers, ten cents per copy, or sent b om alors. tive conte cach. BEADLE @ AD. 98 Williar Street, New York, -

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Tena EF De een Wumbers 1 to -- - — Dime American Speaker, No. 1. Young America, J. Jeboom’s Oration, Birthday of Washington, | A Dutch Cure, Piea for the Maine Law, | The Weather, Not on the Battlefield, The Heated Term, The Italian Struggle, Philosophy Applied, Independence, | An Old Ballad, Our Country, Penny Wise, Pound Fool- The Equality of Man, | ‘True Cleanliness, fish, Character of the Revo’n, | Sat’d’y Night’s Enjoy’ts, The Fruits of the War, (| ‘‘Ina Just Cause,”’ The Sewing-Machine, | No Peace with Oppres- Crue Manhood, sion, ‘The Mystery of Life, | A Tale of a Mouse, The Ups and Downs, A Thanksgiving Sermon, The Truly Great, The Cost of Riches, to 24, inclusive. THE DIME | | SEC. IL. arly Retiring and Ris’g, | Great Lives Imperishable A. Ward’s Oration, True Nationality, Our Natal Day, | The Prophecy forthe Y’r Unfinished Problems, Honor to the Dead, ‘Solferino, Immortality of Patriots, jintelligence the Basis of | Webster's Polit’l System, ‘The War, [Liberty, | A Vision in the Forum, Charge of ‘Light Brigade, | The Press, After the Battle, Woman’s Rights, |The Glass Railroad, Right of the Governed, {Case of Mr. Macbeth, { My Ladder, Prof, on Phrenology, | Woman, Annabel Lee, Alone, Washington’s Name, The Rebellion of 1861, The Sailor Boy’s Syren, | Disunion. Dime National Speaker, No. 2. Union and its Results, } Ohio, Our Country’s Future, | Oliver Hazard Perry, The Statesman’s Labors, | Our Domain, True Immortality, Systems of Belief, Let the Childless Weep, | The Indian Chief, Our Country’s Glory, The Independent Farmer Union a Household, Mrs. Grammar’s Ball, Srreenanve Bell, How the Money Comes, The Scholar’s Dignity, | Future of the Fashions, The Cycles of Progress, Loyalty to Liberty, A Christmas Chant, Our Country First, Last, Stability of Christianity, and Always, The True Higher Law, British Influence, The One Great Need, Defense of Jefferson, The Ship and the Bird, ‘| National Hatreds, Tecumseh’s Speech, Murder Will Out, Territorial Expansion, Strive for the Best, Martha Hopkins, Early Rising, The Bashful Man’s Story,,, Deeds of Kindness, The Matter-of-Fact,Man, | Gates of Sleep, Rich and Poor, The Bugle, Seeing the Eclipse, A Hoodish Gem, Beauties of the Law, | Purity of the Struggle, Ge-lang! Git Up, | Old Age, } The Rats of Life, Beautiful and True, Creowning Glory of U.S., | The Worm of the Still, Three Fools, | Man and the Infinite, . Washington, Language of the Eagle, (Our Great Inheritance, |-Washington,; (Eulogy on Henry Clay, | The Deluge. ; , Dime Patriotic Speaker, No. 3. History of Our Flag, T. F. Meagher’s Address, We Owe to the Union, Lincoln’s Message, Last Speech of Stephen A. Douglas, Great Bell Roland, The New Year and the King Cotton, [Union, Rattle Anthem, The Ends of Peace, Freedom the Watchword Crisis of Our Nation, Duty of Christian Pa- triots, Turkey Dan’s ration, A Fearless Pleu, The Onus of Slavery, A Foreigner’s Tribute, The Little Zouave, Catholic Cathedral The “ Speculators, America to the World, Love of Country, ’ Right of Self-Preserva- Our Cause, [tion, A Kentuckian’s appeal, Kentucky Steadfast, Timidity is Treason, The Alarum, April 15, 1861, The Spirit of 61, The Se peag' p Heritage, The Trish Element, Train’s Speech, Christy’s Speech, Let Me Alone, Brigand-ier-General, The Draft, Union Square Speeches, The Union, Our Country's Call, The Story of an Oak Tree, L-e-g On My Leg, Dime Comic Speaker, No. 4. Klebeyergogs on the War, ' A Song of Woe, Age Bhintly Considered, | Ward’s Trip to Richm’d, Early Rising, Parody, The Wasp and the Bee. The Mountebank, Comic Grammar, No. i, Compound Interest, 4 I’m Not a Single Man, A Sermon on the Feet, A. Ward’s Advice, Old Dog Jock, Buzfuz on Pickwick, The Fishes’ Toilet, Romeo and Juliet, Brian O’Linn, Happiness, Crockett to Office-seekers Dogs, Who Is My Opponent? Pop, Political Stump Speech, re ee Eulogium, Comic Grammar, No, 2, How to be a Fireman, Farewell to the Bottle, The United States, The Cork Leg, Puff’s Ace’tof Himself, | The Smack in School Practical Phrenology, ' | Slick’s Definition of Wife, Beautiful, Tale of a Hat, Cabbage, The Debating Club, Disagreeable People,* A Dutch Sermon, What is a Bachelor Like? | Lecture on Locomotion, ‘funny Folks, Mrs, audle on Umbr’lla. | Devils, | Dow, Jr.’s Lectures, | Nature and Naivire’s God | SEC. IV. | Nothing to Do, | Parody on } Je yer Bell—1777, SD REE LP ON SH he PECL I SPHAKE Si AS I IE A le ME Sa ae i i RT 1a ite? Each Speaker, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces. Dime Elocutionist, No. 5. SEC, I. and Observations, the Passions: Raillery, Buffoonery, Joy, THE ART oF ORATORY. Tranquillity, Cheerfulness, Mirth, Prrincietrs of TrvE Enuncration.—Faults in Enunciation; How to Avoid Them. Special Rules Sheridan’s List of Delight, Gravity, In- quiry, Attention, Modesty, Perplexity, Pity, Grief, Melancholy, Courage, Boasting, Commanding, Despair, Fear, Pride, Obstinacy, Authority, Forbidding, Shame, Remorse, Affirming, Denying, Difference, Agreeing, Exhorting, Judging, Approv- ing, Acquitting, Condemving, Teaching, Pardon- ing, Arguing, Dismissing, Refusing,'Granting, De- pendence, Veneration, Hope, Desire, Love, Re spect, Giving, Wonder, Admiration, Gratitude, Cu riosity, Persuasio.’, Tempting, Promising, Affecta- tion, Sloth, Intoxication, SEC. II. Anger, etc. Tue Component ELEMENTS OF AN ORA TIoN.—Rules of Composition as applied to Words and Phrases, viz.: Asapplied to Sentences, viz.: Length of Sentence, Clearness, Unity, Strength. Figures of Speech; the Exordium, the Narration, the Proposition, the Confirmation, the Refutation, the Peroration. REPRESENTATIVE EXERCISES IN PROSE AND Verse.—Transition; A Plea for the Ox; Falstaff’s Soliloquy on Honor; the Burial of Lincoln; the Call and Response; the Bayonet Charge; History of a Life; the Bugle; the Bells; Byron; Macbeth and the Dagger; Hamlet’s Soliloquy; Old Things; | | The Same, second extract Look Upward; King William Rufus; the Eye; an Essa Onto Musik; Discoveries of Galileo. SEC. V. OnssERVATIONS OF GOoD AUTHORITIES. Dime Humorous A Sad Story, A String of Onions, A Tragic Story, Cats, Courtship, Debt, Ego and Echo, Fashionable Women, Fern Thistles, Good-Nature, Gottlieb Klebcyergoss, Schlackenlichter’s snake, Hosea Biglow’s Opinions, | How the Money Goes, Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of July Oration, If you Mean No, Say No, | Jo Bows on Leap Year, Lay of the Henpecked, Lot Skinner’s Elegy, Matrimony, Old Caudle’s Umbrella, | Old Grimes’s Son, ; Paddle Your Own Canoe, | ** Araby’s | Daughter,” | Speaker, No. 8. Poetry Run Mad, Right Names, Scientific Lectures, The Ager, The Cockney, The Codfish, Fate of Sergeant Thin, The Features’ Quarrel, Hamerican Voodchuck, The Harp of a Thousand Strings, The Last of the Sarpints, | The March to Moscow, The Mysterious Guest, The Pump, The Sea-Serpent, The Secret, The Shoemaker, The Useful Doctor, The Waterfall, | To the Bachelors’ Union League, United States Presidents, Vagaries of Popping the Question, What I Wouldn't Be, Yankee Doodle Aladdin, Ze Moskeetare, 1933. Dime Standard Speaker, No. 7. The World We Live In, Woman's Claims, Authors of our Liberty, The Real Conqueror, The Citizen’s Heritage, Italy, The Mechanic, The Modern Good, [Sun, Ossian’s Address to the The Neck, Foggy Thoughts, The Ladies’ Man, Life 5 The Idler, The Unbeliever, , The Two Lives, The 'True Scholar, Judges not Infallible, Fanaticism, Instability of Successful Agriculture, (Crime, Treland, The People Always Con- Music of Labor, .._ [quer, Prussia and Austria, Wishing, John Burns, Gettysburg, No Sect in Heaven, Miss Prude’s Tea-Party, The Power of an Idea, The Beneficence of the Suffrage, [Sea, Dream of the Revelers, HowCyrus Laid the Cable The Prettiest Hand, Paradoxical, Little Jerry, the Miller, The Blarney Stone, The Student of Bonn, The Broken Household, The Bible, The Purse and the Sword My net ans True Moral Courage, What is War? Butter, My Deborah Lee, The Race, The Pin and Needle, The Modern Puritan, Immortality of the Soul, Occupation, Heroism and Daring, A Shot at the Decanter, Dime Stump Speaker, No. 8. Hon. J..M. Stubbs’ Views on the Situation, Hans Schwackheimer on | Woman’s Suffrage, All for a Nomination, Old Ocean, [Sea, The Sea,the Sea, the open Star Bangled Spanner, Stay Where You pene Life’s What You Make Where’s My Money, § hb from Conscience, ’s Relation to Society , J The Limits to Happiness, Good-nature a Blessing, Sermon from Hard-shell Tail-enders, [Baptist, The Value of Money, Meteoric Disquisition, Be Sure You are Right, Be of Good Cheer Crabbed Folks, (Shrew, Taming a Masculine Farmers, [Our Country The True Greatness 0 The Cold-water Man, 1 | Permanency of States, urity, Propriety, Precision. | | | | The Horse, Liberty of Speech, New England and Union, The Unseen Battlefield, Plea for the Republic, America, [Fallacy, "Right of Secession’’ a Life’s Sunset, Human Nature, Lawyers, Wrongs of the Indians, Appealin behalf of Am. Miseries of War,[Liberty, A Lay Sermon, A Dream, $$. a Astronomical, ’ The Moon, [zeng, Duties of American Citi. The Man, - Temptations of Cities, 9 Broken Resolutions, ; There is no Death, ; Races, A Fruitful Discourse, § A Frenchman's Dinner, 4 Unjust National Acqui’n, The Amateur Coachman, John Thompson's Dau’r, House Cleaning, é It Is Not Your Business, Dime Juvenile Speaker, No. 9. A Boy’s Philosophy, Hoe Out Your Row, | Six-Year-Old’s Protest, The Suicidal Cat, A Valediction, Popping Corn, The Editor, The Same, in rhyme, The Fairy Shoemaker, What Was Learned, Press On, The Snake in the Grass, Tale of the Tropics, Bromley’s Speech, The Fisher’s Child, Shakspearian Scholar, A Maiden's Psalm of Life, A Mixture, Plea for Skates, Playing Ball, Ah, Why, Live for Something,” Lay of the Hen-Pecked, The Outside Dog, Wolf and Lamb, Lion in Love, } Frogs Asking for a King, Sick Lion, Country and Town I___e, Man and Woman, Home, The Lotus-Planter, Little Things. A Baby’s Soliloquy, Repentance, A Plea for Eggs, Humbug Patriotism, Night After Christmas, Short Legs, Shrimps on Amusements, | A Mother’s Work, | The Same, | Who Rules, | Poor Richard’s Saying | Who Killed Tom Ropers | Nose and Eyes, | Little How the Raven Becemeé Black, ion Aint A Sheep Story, i A Little Correspondent, One Good Turn Deserves My Dream, | Another, Rain, I’ll Never Use Tobacco, A Mosaic, The Old Bachelor, Prayer to Light, Little Jim, Angelina’s Lament, Johnny Shrimps on Boots Mercy, Choice of Hours, Nothing to Do Honesty Best Policy, Heaven, Ho for the Fields, Fashion on the Brains Ante gee noe | On Shanghais, A Smile, Casabianca, Homceopathie Soup, a Malt, [Come, A Hundred Wears te The Madman and he; Little Sermons,, [Razor, Souffles on Electricity, The'Two Cradles, The Ocean Storm, Do Thy Littlek—Do it We uss, Base-Ball, [Fever, Prescription. for Spring Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker, No. 10, Ben Buster's Oration, Hans Von Spiegel’s 4th, Josh Billings’s Advice, A Hard-shell Sermon, The Boots, The Squeezer, Noah and the Devil, A Lover's Luck, Hifalutin Adolphus, Digestion and Bare iis Distinction’s Disadvant- Smith, fages, Gushalina Bendibus, A Stock of Notions Speaking for the Sheriff, Daking a Shweat, Then and Now, Josh Billings’s Lectur*ng, Doctor De Blister’s Ann’t, Consignments, Hard Lives, Dan Bryant's Speech, A Colored View, Original Maud Muller, Nobody, Train of Circumstances, Good Advice, The Itching Palm, | Drum-head Sermons, } Schnitzerl’s Philosopedis “ Woman’s Rights,’ Luke Lather, | The Hog, Jack Spratt, | New England Tragedy, | The Ancient Bachelor, | Jacob Whittle’s Speech, Jerks Prognosticates, A Word with Snooks, Sut Lovengood, A Mvle Ride, Josh Billings on Buzzera, Tl Trovatore, Kissing in the Street Scandalous, Slightly Mixed, The Office-seeke’ Old Bachelors, Woman, The Niam Niams, People Will Talk, Swackhamer’s Ball. Who Wouldn't be Fire” Don’t Depend on Daddam Music of Labor, The American Ensign. Debater and Chairman’s Guide No. 11. 1.—DEBATING SOCIETY, Its Office and Usefulness, Formation of, Constitution of, By-Laws of, Rules of Government, Local Rules of Order, Local Rules of Debate, Subjects of Discussion, u.—How To DEBATE. Why there are few good Debaters, : Prerequisites to Oratori- cal Success The Logic of Debate, The Rhetoric of Debate, Maxims to Observe, The Preliminary Premise, Order of Argument, Summary. LS ee 111.—CHATRMAN’S GUIDE, Ordinary Meetings and Assemblies, The Organization, Order of Business and Proceedings, The “ Question.” How it can be Treated, The “ Question.”” How to be Considered, Rights to the Floor, Rights of a Speaker ag gainst the Chair, ‘ Calling Yeas and Nays, Interrupting a Vote Organi of Delibera- ti | | | | —

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