Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 40) (1878 04 30)
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—_——. rua teliel | \" ant vee | Ss. J Num Vole. fe watt Va i WO soak 6 It = = ae = (mm | a Le hy CEE OE A \\ \N Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. No, $8 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. Roving Ben A Story of a Young American Who Wanted to See the World. BY JOHN J. MARSHALL. CHAPTER I. RUNNING AWAY. On the afternoon of the day on which I was nineteen years old, I sat on the broad top rail of the old fence which ran between the orchard and the farm-yard. Looking back, now, to that time, the scene rises before me, and asI was the central figure of the picture, I will describe my- self: A’ sun-browned boy—rather tall and slender for his age—dressed in brown linen trowsers and jacket, with brown hair, curly at the ends, cropping out beneath an old straw hat, which had seen better days. A pair of le —awkward, as boys’ legs always are—with the usual ter- minus of a pair of feet—in this case bare— stretched themselves along the smooth breadth of the favorite rail, basking in theheat of a July | \ not see the color of his eyes upon the hook which sun, As you could —they being fixed inne he was reading—I will tell you that they were dark-blue. As for his countenance, it was re- markable for nothing, perhaps, except for the expression of keen interest in the volume. He leaned back against the cross-rails, while the boughs of the great apple-tree over his head lifted themselves lightly in the soft breeze, mak- ing a thousand rippling lights and shadows over the ragged hat, the earnest countenance and the linen jacket of the lad, whose name was Benja- min Perry—in other words, myself. I remember how the farm looked that time, for, after that day, I did not see it again very soon—never as it then was, nor occupied by the same people. Before me was the great red barn, flanked by straw-stacks—those golden habita- tions of fun and frolic; which had given my childhood more joy than as if every straw had been a bar of the yellow metal, stamped with the ‘‘U. S. M.”—straw-stacks, cattle-sheds, and a cider-mill. Behind the barn stretched the ten-acre meadow to the brook, which glittered along its margin like a silver fringe. Beyond the brook arose low hills, and beyond these the somber range of the Catskills, with one blue glimpse of the lovely Hudson gleaming through. Low lines of stone-fence checkered the farm into orchard, meadow, and wheat-fields—the latter standing under the blue heavens nearly ripe for the scythe, with the game soft wind which stir- red the apple-boughs waving over its golden. bil- | lows, If the grain had been a little riper, I should not have had leisure to sit on the fence and read books, at two o'clock of the day; but father had concluded to give it another drink of the mellow sunshine, At my Tight—as I sat facing the barn—the old stone farm-house, capped with red wooden zables and a steep roof, nestled amid peach- | trees and lilac-bushes.. A path led along the edge of the orchard, past the well, with its tall | sweep, up to the side-door, which opened into | he living-room, where I could have seen, had I | looked up, my mother, sitting in the arm-chair, WS Ai. . Wes Ya —s ~ mending a pair of trowsers for her afternoon’s bit of fancv-work. And fancy-work it must have been, if great ingenuity and a multitude | of stitches, required in the earnest effort to | | keep a hard-working husband and four careless | boys ‘‘respectable,” could be honored by the appellation. ut I did not look up. The sun beat down | hotter and more hot; the breeze died away, al- most entirely. I sweltered on my perch, and felt a lively pleasure in the perspiration which trickled down my face, for I had lost my bear- | ings, and supposed I was sitting under the shade Wi WH, UNTO VAI “fm it a a ln ot on al a al BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, AN) Ly Se Zz. < | of a palm-tree, and that the sun’s rays, fallin, upon the burning sands of the desert, was wha made it so intolerably fervid in my vicinity. The fact is, 1 was reading a book of travels, and, as usual, had become so absorbed as to lose my own identity in that of the traveler. This | was a favorite pastime of mine, which pave deep displeasure to my father, from the fear, rhaps, that it would beget a roving disposi- | tion in his oldest boy, upon whom he felt he | had a right to depend to lighten his own toils. |. The hours rolled on. I had worked myself up | to a fever of torrid delight, and was just busy
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2 giving.a gold sequin to a dark-browed slave, for adjusting the on the back of my camel, ro ed i om my forehead the sweat pro- u “thwack” across my back made me =: so suddenly that I lost my balance, and led to the ground. ‘Pick yourself up, sir; and the next time I ive you an order, let me find it obeyed. You ven’t put them stone back in their place, nor you don’t mean to, I reckon.” I did pick myself up, and.look at my father. No danger of dreaming myself in a any longer. He heldan ox-gadinhishand. He had been down to the village with the team, and, on returning, had seen that that portion of the stone- fence which had tumbled in by the road-side, and which he had directed me to repair, re- mained unmolested in its ruined condition. I had been speculating over the stone of the Pyra- mids instead of the cobble-stones of New York. The pain of the blow was stinging, and this rude recall to my barren and hard-worked life more stinging still. For an instant, I raised my hand to return the blow, but it fell to my side again. My own parent had insulted and out- raged me, but I could not strike him. At that moment, I think I hated him. And, indeed, he had done very little to make his children love him, but to exact their service, as if they were slaves instead of children. He ruled, literally, with a rod—if not of iron, of elastic hazel. Poor man! hehad been brought up in that hard manner himself, and het ae he was doing his whole duty by us. I can ost forgive him, as I reflect upon it. He had not struck me for nearly two years, and treated me in every re t as if he re- alized that I was something more than a child in my feelings; and now—on my nineteenth birthday—when all ‘the fiery passions of a man surged through my blood, I could not bear it. I do not think he would have struck me had he not been extra cross, very tired, provoked at seeing the “everlasting book” in my hand, and, withal, having the ox-gad ready, so temptingly, in his hand. I must have turned very white, and have looked dangerous, before I lowered my arm, for a voice shrieked: ‘Don’t, Ben, don’t!” I turned, and there, near the well-curb, to which they were coming for some cool water, stood my sister Emmeline, next younger than myself, and her friend, Annie Anderson. The aleness of my face was instantly succeeded by a Tiusb—the most tingling, burning blush that ever blazed in it; for Annie, of all the world, was the one person from whom I would have con- cealed my mortification. That she should have witne the blow, and my ignominious tum- bie to the ground, crushed me instantly out of all self-respect and hope. I hung my head, and walked away, I cared not whither, but present- ly found myself in a shady covert of bushes be- side the brook across the ten-acre lot. Here I flung myself upon the ground, and, with my face buried in the grass, felt for a few moments asif I should suffocate. Then I raised myself, and dipping the cool brook-water in my hand, dashed it over my hot head. I strangled for breath; but, ly, the great lump in my throat broke. up in a sob, and I sat up, utterly - miserable. I had been so happy, for me, on that morning, thinking how fast | was nearing manhood; that in two years more I could shake off the galling fetter of parental injustice; could choose for myself my own path; could—oh, tremulous thought of hidden bliss!—ask Annie Anderson to go the same way. But now, I had been degraded before her; rhaps—indeed, almost certainly—she had aughed at me! Annie wasa merry witch, full of frolic as an one is full of meat, and was it prob- able that she had witnessed my sudden fall—as it were, from Asia to America—my tumble out of cloud-land, without appreciating how very ridiculous it was? Go back, reader, to the time when you were at the sensitive age of adolescence, and sympa- thize’with my humiliation. And, oh, keenest, bitterest pang! she had seen me treatedasa naughty boy, when all my aspirations for months had been to appear in her eyes asmanly as those older young fellows who dared to ask to see her home from singing-school, and to take her riding in their new buggies. Oh, misery! I sat there a long time. I heard the horn blow to summon the bag me fav supper, but I did not stir. Just as the segment of the sun’s goitey circle sunk below the horizon, the = in of my unhappiness lifted suddenly; I passed from the ag tee of wretchedness to a state of exhilaration that was almost joy. The solution of the problem of my destiny flooded over me— the fierce sun of Asia, when a sharp Beadie’s Half-Dime Library. in one instant my resolution was taken—I would run away! That moment I felt free; the sting of the ox- gad left my shoulders. ere I would go, or what I would do, were unsettled questions—it was enough that I had broken the chain con- stantly binding and galling me; my father should never strike me again—I would no more be tied to the tail of a plow and bent beneath all manner of heavy burdens, receiving for my reward only a oad ond oe as a parsi- monious parent thought absolu necessary. I was not much excited; at least, A heart did not beat faster than common; but, the heavens seemed to expand and the earth to widen. In- stead of being one man’s drudge, I felt myself to be master of ‘‘the situation.” There seemed to be nothing I could wish but what I mightattain. It was astonishing I had never thought of it be- fore—how easy and proper it was that I should run away. Already I saw myself one of the throng walk- ing along the pavements of New York, that eat city, only forty miles from me, which I d never entered; already I snuffed the sea- breeze, and went bounding over the sparkling brine of the ocean. Not that I had resolved up- on a sailor’s life, or settled upon any plan—I only felt that I was free—that— “The world was all before me where to choose.” How long I would have sat there by the little brook I do not know; I heard my mother, call- ing from the still between the orchard and meadow, and I arose and followed the call. “Pye kept some supper warm for you, Ben,” she said, as I came up; “it’s on the kitchen table. ou’ll have some, won’t you? “Yes, mother,” I said, cheerfully; and, going in, I made a hearty meal, very much to her satisfaction, for I could tell, by the way she hov- anxious to make up, by her attentions, for the harshness of another, God bless that dear mo- ther! Once, when she came up to the “table to lace before me an apple-pie, I saw that she had mn weeping. Emmeline had doubtless told her of father’s conduct, and her maternal heart had bled for the fond boy whose nature she un- | derstood so much better than the stern father would or could, For an instant I wavered in my secret resoluti tears; but, I believed that mother would justify me—and some time I would come back to her, a son for her to be proud of. I went to my room quite early that evening. Of course I not the luxury of a room to my- self; two of my yo brothers slept in a double- bed, at one side of the low window; my single cot was opposite. The boys slept soundly even at that early hour. Iwas not afraid of their observation, as I took an old carpet-bag, which h from a peg on the wall, and placed in it the few eff which I considered n 5 hk Bible, with a book-mark in it which Annie had worked for me the previous Christmas; a little box containing such relics as were most precious to me; two clean shirts; as many pairs of stock- ings; two handkerchiefs; the daguerreotypes of mother and Emma—these were my sions. I then c my clothes, putting on my Sun- w day “ee, which, though not in the latest fashion, as ciently respectable, my father always expecting us to attend church on the Sabbath, as religiously as he expected us to work sixteen hours per day on the six other days. To this I added the silver watch which hung above the little deal table, and which was incontestably mine, having been presented to me by the favor- ite uncle, Benjamin, after whom I was named. It was a good watch, and I reflected that if I should get ‘‘strapped ” it would readily sell for twenty-two dollars. Lastly, I counted the money in the ragged wallet, which had de- seended to me when it became too worn for father’s use; I counted it, age a I knew, toa penny, its contents: a five-dollar gold-piece, which I had earned cutting hay for a neighbor; a dollar bill father had ete af given me for finding a valuable steer which had got lost in the swamp; a quarter, and three dimes. Not a large capital to set Bp in the world with; but, as it was I had, I would make it do. I knew that father had three hundred dollars, in silver and gold, in the desk in his sleeping-room, and, for a moment, I debated whether Thad not a right to some portion of it, since it had been gained as much by my labor as his; but pride and honor both resisted the thought of its appropria- tion. Well, there was nothing more to be done, except to wait until such a time of night as should insure my escape unobserved; so I ed to take a little laid down on my , an rest, in view of the fatigue I should have to un- | passed Annie’s home. as I saw the traces of those | ‘to dergo ; but I only succeeded in thinking, hard and fast, of Annie Anderson, and how she would take my going away. At last I started from a light doze, to find, upon looking at my watch by moonlight, that it was nearly two o’clock. Time to be going! 1 turned and looked at my peacefully sleeping brothers. I thought of Emma in the chamber adjoining, and came near slipping in there to make her the confidant of my resolves; she had been a good sister, and was fond of me; but, there seemed more security in keeping my plans to myself. How to get out of the house was the next question. Father slept so soundly, that I might have gone out in squeaking boots with- out disturbing him; but mother was a light sleeper, and I feared to run the gantlet of the lower rooms. It was only about. twelve feet to the ground, and the bough of an apple-tree oat a the By wed meg My om op the ca -bag, then grasped the bough, swung off, and let myself drop. Soon I aaarin the road. Watch, the dear old dog, followed me to the gate, but I bade him be silent and stay back, and he obeyed. Out into the moonlit road! How silent the world was; how black the shadow of the fence along the little side-path! At first I walked rapidly, looking back to see if I was followed. Gradually my pace slackened as I a whe gre the first dwelling along the track ad taken; I stop before the gate and looked long at the house. Annie lived there. The moon poured its full radiance over the old brown front, silvering the glass in her window, and showing me the few roses yet in bloom on the vine which climbed to the gable. For many minutes, great as was my haste, I could not move on. I almost believed that she would rise and come to the window; that I should once more see her sweet face, with the | curls glimmering about it—but it did not come. ered about the room, watching me, that she felt | 3 ~ If Annie had not seen the blow, even then I should have turned back; but, as it was, she should see and know that I had the spirit to re- sent insult, even when a father was the in- sulter. A chanticleer, crowing the “hour of three startled me out of my dream; with a sigh I trudged onward, leaving a part of my heart be- hind me. The worst was over, now that I had Soon the red light of dawn began to mix with the silver moonlight. Never will I forget the delicious smell of a field of clover by which I walked just as the morning n to een in the east. Often and often, mingled with the sharp odor of the salt water, or in the close air of the sick room, on the tops of the mountains, in the midst of nameless and op ates islands, mingled with the hot breath ot the tropics, or stealing along the chill breezes of the northland, comes back me that scent of clover, wet with dew,blushing in the summer dawn. And always with it comes a memory of Annie, as [ left her then, a fair, innocent girl of ‘‘sweet sixteen.” I have been a wanderer— have fulfilled all the promises of an eager and roving disposition—have touched the shores of many lands; but, the sweetest perfume for me is the honeyed breath of clover, and of all the maidens who have shown me friendship during my adventurous life, there never has been, there never will be, another so incomparable, as “The girl I left behind me.” CHAPTER II. IN THE CITY. WELL, I trudged on for several hours after the sun arose, until, tired and warm, I stopped in front of a eeepc Se farm-house, set well back in a shady yard, and gazed longingly at the tall well-pole, which held on high a moss- covered bucket. I taken the r which I knew, by tradition, led on to the city, it being. my ght oe to go strai ht there. “I will get a ot water,” I said; and, entering the gate I had soon lifted the dripping bucket, spark ing with its cool ripples, to my lips. As I finishe drinking, saw a —_ woman, un- der an apple-tree, b wi her week’s washing. at once I realized that I was hungry. She looked at me with the curi- osity characteristic of country people. tf took off my straw hat, and asked for a piece of bread, telling her at the same time, that I was “ footing it” to New York, and had had no breakfast. e went in the house and “amd out with a plateful of bread and butter, a 3 over blackberry pie, and a bow] of milk. When we first what we feel is a crisis of our life, how tenaciously the most ig occur- rences cling to our memory! I remember that breakfast much better than I do what I had for dinner to-day. Isaton the cool stone by the ) +
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well-curb, ate, and rose up refreshed. The ma- tron, with whom I had some friendly chat as I was eating, would not take the silver quarter which I offered her. She knew I was a coun- try boy, and was pleased to do me a kindness. I saw that she hed her clothes ready to rinse; so, as she would take no other remuneration, T insisted on drawing the “‘ rinsing water” for her. After this, I proceeded on in good spirits until the hot afternoon and the wakeful night I had passed suggested the feasibility of rest. Climb- ing a fence, I chose a snug corner, and with my carpet-bag for a pillow, got a ‘two-hours’” sleep. I was almost disappointed, when night came, that I had met with no startling adven- ture thus far on my travels. A well-traveled road, leading directly toward the metropolis and lined with peacahtl farms, was not the field to choose for novel experiences; neither were those the days of Robin Hood, nor even of scalping Indians; a ride of a few miles in | a farmer’s wagon, and a passing nod from —_ I met, summed up my history for that ay. The experience of the second day was the same. Just at dusk I reached the city, and went wandering through its gas-lit suburbs, un- knowing where to apply for a night’s lodging, when a policeman, doubtless reading and pity- ing my verdancy, took me in charge, kindly 1iding me to a modest boarding-house kept by is own wife, where I was neither, for a won- der, robbed or cheated. After an early break- fast I started the next morning to “see the sights.” That was a golden day. As I went staring into the jewelers’ shops, the print shops, the book-stores, with my ears deafened by the | roar and tumult around me, I thanked my stars a thousand times for the lucky “last straw which had broken the camel’s back,” and caused me to leave the tame life of a hard-worked Pee gy I pursued my in- vestigations straight down the water’s edge, and had got back as far as Taylor’s saloon, when the sight of its tempting windows | reminded me that it was after one o'clock. I | went in, feeling awfully bashful; and after I | got in I would have given ten dollars (did I have it) to be out in. owever, there was noth- ing to be done but to go ahead. A waiter held back a chair for me at a vacant table, or I do not know as I should have known enough to sit down. And now—what should I have? To gain time, I picked up a thin book which lay on the table and opened it, pretending to read. My eyes swam so that I did not see what it was; I thought it was poetry, as it was in double columns, and looked like it. But, as my confu- sion cleared away I saw that it was that mys- terious thing I had read of—a bill of fare. The se were marked, and everything was so | rightfully high that I finally contented myself with a plate of cake and a saucer of ice-cream —the cheapest thing there. As I spoonful of cream in my mouth I dodged back as if it had burnt me, it was so cold, Then I blushed, and looked up to see who was laughing at me, Just te me sat two beautiful young ladies, perfect angels, their faces dimpling wit mirth, who dropped their eyes instantly lest I should see that they had taken notice of me. I was too proud to be laughed at, and I grew cool in a moment; so that, when they look up again, my glance was quite as steady as theirs. e youngest was eye. She reminded me of Annie, who would have looked full as handsome, tricked out in the same exquisite clothes. They arose to go out, pretty soon, and this younger one dropped her handkerchief as she left her chair. She did not notice her loss until I picked it up and returned it to her. gave me a very sweet smile out of her dark hazel eyes, as she said, ‘‘ Thank you.” As for me, I was a little startled, but not by her smile. As I gave her the handkerchief, I saw her name upon it, and it then flashed over me that she was my own city cousin. ‘Minnie Gardiner” was lthe name. y mother’s maiden name was Gar- iner, She had a brother in New York, a rich importer. There had been no intercourse be- tween the families since I was a mere child, my mother jealously fancying that, as her brother pie wealthy he grew indifferent to her. She id not like but not so proud as mother, after all, who was a Gardiner, and thought it her duty to be too roud to visit her rich relations. In coming to he city I had not thought of this uncle—certain- ly, not to e any advances to him. I in- tended to steer clear of his “‘ patro ‘ad I recollected, now that I saw them before me, that he had two daughters—I had seem them once when little girls, they had paid us a sum- ut the first | She | - Roving Ben. mer visit—who must be about the age of these. For a moment I felt like saying: ‘“How do you do, Minnie and Adelaide?” It would be such excellent fun to shock them there, in that fashionable throng, by announc- ing myself as their ‘‘ coun cousin.” I re- strained the impulse; but as they swept by me so gracefully, I eould not help wishing that I was fitted to claim their friendship, they were Ny, such beautiful girls. “| will be fit,” I secretly resolved; ‘‘nature has not denied me some talent and some good looks. Wait until I have had an opportunity!” The girls stepped into their carriage near the door, and I saw them disappear, not expectin to behold them again very soon—but fate will otherwise. How I happened to meet them the second time, will shortly erpers. Ispent two hours in a k-store, W se six shillings for a copy of somebody’s ‘‘ Travels,” and went home to the policeman’s to dine at the hour set. That evening—after first —s my new friend’s advice, and finding that he did not think it very wicked to to the theater—I went to Burton’s and saw Burton himself play ** Toodles.” As I walked down, at eleven, with the police- man, I confided to him my new resolution of becoming an actor! This plan he was so judi- cious as to discourage with all his might. The next day, finding my funds giving out with amazing rapidity, I foresaw that I must cut my holiday short. y friend advised me to adver- tise in the Herald, and the result of my delib- erations was a “‘ want,” among many in the next morning’s issue, which read in this wise: “SITUATION WANTED. By a young man, aged 19, from the sit © Has a fair educa- tion, and is ambitious.—Would prefer a place in some wholesale mercantile house where in- dustry and honesty would insure promotion. Address B. P., care of O’Gorham, Union Square Post-Office. CHAPTER III, RICH .RELATIONS. I NEVER thought I was one of those who are ‘“born to be lucky ”—nevertheless, I have occa- sionally had some marvelous streaks of fortune. Not knowing the rarity of re- sults to fifty cents’ worth of advertising, I was not half so much tg? alg as was my Official friend at finding, on the following day, a note in the post-office requesting B. P. to call at aad that afternoon, at No. blank on Fulton street. “Tt’s bad, your not having references,” said O’Gorham, when he had inquired about them and found that I had none. “T shall just tell a straight story, and if they don’t believe it, they can write my mother and see. Besides, Ihave a rich uncle in New York; but, I hate to ask favors of him. Nor will I; Tl trust to my face, O’Gorham; don’t you think it is an honest one?” ‘Tt is, indeed, or you wouldn’t have come it over me as you did. When Isaw you, I knew just what you was, or I shouldn't have taken you in.” : I ran my hands through my thick brown curls and thought the good policeman did not know all that I was; he little recked of my tastes and my ambition; but, he was a good friend to me, and I liked him. “Be punctual to the minute,” he said, as we parted, referring to the appointment at three. No se that I shall not be. I was so ex- cited by the prospect that I could not enjoy my sight-seeing, growing more and more nervous as the hour drew near. I walked down and up Fulton street long before the time, selecting the number, and seriting down the name of the firm | —Ketchum & Co. wife, either, who was “ proud,” |’ The city-hall clock struck three, and I pushed open the heavy door of No, blank and stood in- side. Immediately I felt like one in an enchan- ted land. Delicious odors, redolent of foreign lands, rigs Sh visions of the orient, floated about me, e secret of the magic I soon dis- covered; I was in a large importing house of tea, coffee and spices. looked, almost with awe, and certainly set sg upon the for- eign @ ring sacks an xes, inscribed with cabalice lettering. sa At once I took a fancy tothe place. It was the next best thing to traveling—this living a the mi of pares Se from ber ong journey across the sea, bringing wi them perfumes of the East. I ahem Siardly have n surprised if Sindbad had walked in with his piece of meat stuck full of diamonds. I had but a moment to bo rons my fancy. A ede ad clerk asked me my business; I owed him the note I had received from the business,” he said, 3 firm, and was ushered into a little room, in the center of which stood a table with several old- fashioned real China tea-cups and saucers, and a small kettle over an alcohol lamp. I had te wind my way through alleys of eo tie: chests. giving forth delicate aromas as until I reached the room; and in it—asif even this pri- vate office and ‘‘ tea-room” must be in ed upon by the immense stock—stood yet a few more packages. My cicerone left me at the door, and I found myself alone with a gentic- man, rather over the middle-age, with orgs locks, penetrating eyes and a dsome ec, who was sitting at a desk, and had just restore: his watch to its pocket. He looked at me as if a my business. My heart began to sink, but I walked boldly forward and handed him his letter, as the quickest way of announcing myself. ““What is your name?” ** Benjamin Perry.” He gave me a keen glance, as I made this an- swer. ‘‘From what part of the country?” ** Westchester ps x qua! indeed ! at do you propose to 0! His question was straight to the point, but I did not know how to answer it. When at home, I thought I knew a good deal because I was something of a Latin scholar, a handsome pen- man, and quicker at figures than any of my ac- quaintance—“ quite a mathematical genius,” my teacher had averred. But, the question was: what did I propose to do in this tea and ‘| coffee house? My utter ignorance of city meth- ods of doing business broke over me in a new light. For three minutes the gentleman await- my answer, his eyes fixed on my face all the time. In my impulsive way I resolved to ex- plain myself and throw myself upon his gene- rosity to give me a trial. “Ido not know,” I said, answering his eyes as firm a look. “TI have worked on a farm 1 my life, but Iam good at accounts, and am esteemed an excellent penman. I am willing to work hard, on a small salary, at anything which will give me a chance to improve, to rise in life, or to see the world.” ‘Let me look at your references.” “‘T have none, sir, The fact is, I—ran away from home,” I stammered, getting confused un- der that searching look, ak beginning. What did you run away b for?’ A ‘‘ Because I wanted tosee men and things, and I hated the farm; and because I was treated like aslave by my own father, sir. Wouldn't you run away if you were nineteen, and your father should strike you because you read a book on your birthday, and forgot to mend a stone-fence in the broiling afternoon sun?” “ { don’t know but I should,” he replied, with an amused air. “‘ I had no idea,” he continued, sare that Isaac Perry was so hard on his oldest boy.” I stared at him in astonishment; he held out his hand to me. “So you've quite forgotten your uncle Gardi- ner, have you, who used to come i to see you, when you were a little chap?” I shook hands with him, but not heartily; he was too rich, and I was afraid that he would want me to sink some of my independencé be- fore him. I did not know whether to be glad or sorry at the chance which brought us to- gether. He made me take a chair, and tell him all about the family—especially mother and Emmeline, which interest in them made me like him better. _** How does it happen that you came to the city, without friends or acquaintances, yet stay yeh from me and my house?” he queried, after a while. - “ Well, uncle, you are too rich,” I answered, frankly. “After I had carved out my own aa, I intended to seek you, on equal rms. ‘Equal fiddlesticks. I never thought thot Margaret’s boy would hold aloof from her own brother. Margaret’s getting foolish, I believe. Well, well, you shall as inde ent as Zo like. Perhaps you wouldn't accept a si ion now, if I one to offer, since you find out I’m a rich uncle?’—and he smiled. “Td like the situation, very much, on the same terms as you would give to a total stran- ger. “I do not think I should give the placc to a stranger—a run-away — without re- commendations, or the least < Haber 5 of ntl ny inecente, atlanne ep ears burn. ow you're smart, if you’re Margaret’s boy, and honest, if you're jn
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& Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Perry’s. I like your spirit, and I fancy you will be a rapid worker. Under such circum- stances, ll try you and instruct my clerks to ve you all necessary information. You'll ve accounts to keep, and other similar work to do, and you'll have, occasionally, perhaps, to handle packages. In time, if you are faithful, you will stand a chance of promotion—notwith- standing you’re a nephew of one of the firm! And now, would you be doing me too much of a favor to go home with me to dine and spend the evening! The half humorous, half sarcastic gleam again laughed in those keen eyes, but [ strove not to betray the embarrassment it caused me. thought of the young ladies, my cousins, whom I had met in the saloon, and the expectation of being introduced to them still further discon- certed me: yet I had to come to New York to “see the world,” and I would be a coward to succumb to bashfulness, So I smiled back at my poet uncle, and said: ‘Tf you consider it a favor, I shall be happy to oblige you.” At that moment a man came to the door whom I took to be an officer, but soon discovered was a servant in livery. He seemed to quite look down on me, in my plain clothes, but uncle spoke to me in a manner which taught the fellow that it was his business to respect the nephew of his master. ‘ The carriage is here to take us home, Benja- min. My girls will be surprised to find they have a cousin. [ve often heard them wish for one. They have no brother, and they think “ a cousin” would be a fine thing—to u them about when papa is too busy.” “ But not a country cousin,” I remarked, tak- ing the seat opposite him in the velvet-lined carriage. ‘* Pooh—pooh! we'll rub the country all off in a few months,” was the good-natured reply. ““T wonder what O’Gorman would think of this?” I reflected, as the horses pranced Rovealy. along the thoroughfare. ‘‘He would think was ‘in luck,’ sure enough.” Hardly was the idea in my mind, before we turned off around Union uare, passing within three feet of that wondering policeman who stared at me blankly until I bowed an smiled. “How! how!” said my uncle, sharply, ‘‘ who’s that?” ‘“Tt’s the policeman who took charge of me, uncle, when he saw how much I needed his ser- vices. I board with him for the present; he’s a ‘real friend, too.” “Allright! I was afraid you had been mak- ing some improper acquaintances. Must be very careful who you associate with, youn man, when you first start out in life. <A grea deal depends on the company you keep.” “T know I ought to be very particular about 4 company, uncle,” I answered, gravely. ** Perhaps I ought to have asked you for your ee before I accepted your invitation to inner? “‘Saucy and vain, as well as adventurous,” he said, slowly, piercing me with those bright eyes. ‘I’m d you’re too fast for us old fogies. °F nt think me vain nor—impudent, uncle. Tn Ido not think Iam. I just feel a little bitter use I’ve been treated so, and I’ve overstepped the bounds, I know—for which, I our pardon. ow’re a Gardiner—that’s plain to be seen,” was the eg In a short time we stop before one of those brown-stone houses, with the lioris on the steps, and the plate-glass windows, which I had so admired upon my entrance into the oy My heart was in my mouth as we went up the steps. I could have met the whole city coun- cil, the mayor included, with a much better ee than I could face the charming young es whose ee I had already par- tially made. Uncle had told me, during the drive, that aunt Gardiner had been d two years, and that his eldest daughter, Adelaide, was mistress of the house; so I had nothing worse to encounter than those bright, beauti creatures, and yet my knees would get weak, and my mouth ary. Another servant in livery answered the bell. . We stepped into the hall, and the man took my straw hat. Uncle was pulling off his linen duster, when somethin Raseling floated down the wid stairway, and a pair of white arms went about his neck, to the tune of two or three kisses. “Softly, Minnie; don’t strangle me, while Bai | eae ntee in this duster, and can’t help my- Just then, the parlor door opened, and another lovely actor appeared upon the scene. a ig een girls, this is your cousin Benjamin, from Westchester county. Don’t ‘a pee any more for the want of a cousin—for here’s the enuine article—my own sister Margaret’s boy. e him welcome, girls.” Adelaide came forward to give me her hand, but paused in the act; I met her gaze, and then Minnie’s—both the witches burst out laughing, and I, very much relieved, but ridiculously shy, still, laughed a little, too. ‘* How! how! what’s this?’ said the uncle. ‘*Oh, papa, he picked up my handkerchief for | me, in Taylor’s saloon, only yesterday. And only to think that we never guessed he was our cousin |” “But I knew you,” said I, “for I read the name on your handkerchief.” “Then why didn’t you make yourself known, sir?’—and amid much lively chatter, the girls drew me into the parlor. Adelaide was so lady- like and gentle, Minnie so arch and merry, it was impossible for me to realize my own awk- wardness; even when placed at the table, in the majestic dining-room, alf an hour later, I felt almost at home. My mother had learned me to eat like a gentleman; so that the dishes being silver instead of delf, did not make much differ- ence. After dinner, when the father went into the library to look at his papers and books, I found myself telling these lady cousins my whole lit- tle stupid history, and they seemed to take an interest, and to think I had done right; they were much pleased, too, to hear about Emme- line, and declared they would have her to visit them before three months. “Of course, if you expect to be any thing,” said Minnie, sagely, ‘‘ you do just right to come to the city. It’s the only place worth living in. Now, if you had a new suit of clothes, we'd take you to the opera to-night. There’s a short sum- mer season, and everybody goes. We have our tickets purchased.” ‘*T know these clothes are not just the thing; but, they’re the best I have, Miss Minnie, and I shall not have any more until I’ve earned the means to buy them.” “Oh, dear, is it possible! If I had to earn my clothes, I’m afraid I shouldn’t have many. But, you’ve got a place with papa, now, cousin Ben, and I suppose you'll have all the money you want.” Dear little innocent thing! it made me thrill all through to have her call me cousin Ben, yet I know she would not have done it so freely, if she had not regarded me as amere boy. She must have been just about Annie Anderson’s age—that is, three years younger than I. Pretty soon she asked me how old I was. **Only nineteen! Why, Ada, I thought him at least twenty-one, didn’t you » Adelaide said she did, and I felt three inches taller—not taller, for Iwasa good hight then ——but manlier. ‘I'm afraid I’m keeping you from the opera?” I said, presently. ‘*Oh, dear, no!—we have an hour yet, Be- with us, for a few sides, you are going to sta weeks, anyhow, pret est ave time to look up a nice boarding- . Papa no son, you know, and I na think he has taken a fancy to you. He just called me into the library, and told me to tell Bridget to prepare a room for ou. You must amuse yourself with.a book his evening, and you can retire when you get sleepy; and to-morrow (coaxingly,) you must have your hair cut, and a new coat, and then we'll let you beau us about, you know.” My independence was fast vanishing, when I could allow as [one lady to order me to the barber’s and tailor’s; but it was impossible to et offended with cousin Minnie, not even when Ne insinuated that she should be ashamed of me as I was. You see, she added, so prettily, that—‘‘ I would be so handsome, if f would on y do justice to myself.” e upshot of these pretty cousins was, that I allowed my uncle to order me a suit of clothes, and that [ remained several weeks in his family, improving fast under the polishing process to which I was subjected. When I went to pay my bill to O’Gorham, and to get my carpet-bag, he congratulated me warmly on my prospects. I always bowed to him from my uncle’s carriage and spoke to him when I passed on foot. ‘I never forgot him, and two years later he again came to the rescue, when I was in worse - culty than at our first meeting. In the mean time I wrote a long letter to my sister Emmeline, relating my experience, Gane 8 much loye to mother, and de- siring he r, in a postscr'pt, to remember me to Annie A. I did not mention father’s name. My sister answered the letter, telling me that mother had felt very bad at my running away, but now that she knew that I was under uncle Gardiner’s care, she was much happier than be- fore, and did not know but I done well in going off, since it was not in me to be content- edonafarm. Also (in a postscript), that An- nie A. sent her kind regards. All this while, do not think, dear reader, that I was growing to a dandy and a pensioner on my rich relations. I kept a strict account of what was expended for me, resolving to return every penny; and at the store I worked with such a will, that I quickly mastered the busi- ness before me, and’'was so willing, quick, and industrious, that I soon made my services de- sirable. But, after all, the life of a clerk did not satis- fy me. I read all the volumes of travel and adventure in the Gardiner library, and grew daily more restless amid the coffee- and tea- chests. The cinnamon groves of Ceylon, and the nutmeg-trees of Banda were constantly sug- ested to me. -Born to be a rover, I fed my ancies on spices, and stimulated my tastes on the rarest, most delicate Souchong, Oolong, and Flowers of Heaven. One day, the firm of Ketchum & Co., hada ship come into port. I went down to see to the bill of lading. I envied the roughest sailors, whose jackets were spattered with brine from far-off oe seas. Every rope and timber breathed romance to me. Sawing nothing about a vessel except what I had learned b reading sea-tales, I longed to be versed in nauti- cal lore. Oh, to lie on the deck of a ship, and watch the deep blue sky, while the vessel fled before a chasing breeze. Oh, to climb the rig- ging, and look afar over the sparkling brine. Jh, to visit mysterious islands—and to see the flags of other nations flying as we entered their ports! CHAPTER IV. OFF TO ORIENT—A CEYLON HOUSE AND CEY- LON LIFE. THE vessel, as soon as it was refitted, was to sail again on a long voyage to the Orient. She was to touch at Ceylon, Java, and the Spice Islands, tarrying at each to take in her precious and odorous freight, finally, to bring up at Hong Kong, and make up her cargo with tea. I was determined to sail with the Adelaide—the ship was named after my eldest cousin—even if I had again torunaway. Yet, I wanted my uncle’s consent and approbation, with some ostensible business which should not merely make me an adventurer. After weeks of fever and fidgeting, when the vessel was within six days of her de- — I broke the subject to him. At first, e was much surprised, and said he did not think my mother would wish me to §°; but, at length, seeing how strongly my mind was bent on the voyage, he told me that the partner of the house, who resided in Hong Kong, had desired them to | send out another clerk by the return ship. “Tf you go,” said he, “you will have to stay at least five years, home-sick or not. No more running off when you get there! You are ve young to be trusted with the place, but I thin you will make just such an assistant as he de- sires, provided you are steady and contented. If I could trust you to stay, I should believe it a good place for you. The salary is excellent, the promotion rapid, and, as big grow older, you may speculate independent. y of the firm. But, it will be very vexatious, if you dinepatnt us by throwing up the place in a few months.” ‘*T shall do nothing dishonorable, uncle Gar- oie i I take the place, I will stay aslong as a 5 “Five years is the least that would make it worth while.” I went to my room to think the matter over, and decide, Five years seemed a long time to me, when I thought of Annie. Yet, I should be only twenty-four at the end of them—just a proper, marriageable age! I believed that Annie would wait for me; at least I would ask her. As for getting tired of Hong Kong, I decided that I could live among the Celestials some time without getting tired of them. I wanted to see their umbrellas, their pig-tails, and the curious little dwarfed feet of their women. My mind was made up to accept the offer in less than fif- teen minutes. Then I sat down and wrote a let- ter to Annie. A week before, I could not have done it—but the thought of the great distance so soon to roll between us, gave me courage. I told her that I sup she considered me qa boy; but that I should not stay one always. [ was ing away to China to make my fortune —I should be gone five years—and if she thought Vv
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_ Roving Ben. 5 she could wait that long for me, I should la everything in the world I possessed at her feet, the hour of my return. As Mr. Anderson’s people only went to the post-office on Saturdays, and the Adelaide sail- ed on Monday, I knew I could not receive an answer before then; so I asked her to be sure and write to me at Hong Kong her ‘‘ yes orno” to my proposition. Before I sealed my letter, I bought a gold ring and inclosed it, mailed the missive, and the deed was done! I delayed writing to mother until Sunday, fearing that if iny intentions were discovered in time, father would come after me, and, as I was in my mi- nority, he could compel my return; when I did write, it was in the gayest, most hopeful style for I knew she would feel very sad at the step I was taking. I promised her the richest brocade silk, and the heaviest crape shawl that I could find in the Celestial empire, and a white-silk wedding-dress for Emma. ' Then followed five busy days. My cousins were so kind as to attend to my wardrobe, and to providing me with dozens of little comforts which cee should have done without. I had much to do, learning what would be expected of me in my new situation, and taking all the directions, inquiries, etc., which the firm, on this side of the world, had to send to the other half At last came Sabbath evening—that sacred time, so replete with home associations. I was really melancholy, for the first time, and wan- dering off into the library, after tea, I began pacing up and down, when I espied Minnie in the window, sewing something. “Why, ou little heathen, do you sew on Sunday?’ I cried, pretending to be gay, and ap- proaching her. ‘It’s only a pin-holder for you, cousin,” she answered, reproachfully. ‘‘ You’ll need it ver much, on the water, and I hadn’t time to finis it yesterday. I don’t suppose there’s a pin in China,” she continued, ‘‘ they’re real barbarians there—I don’t see what you want to go for ”"— and with thag, her voice, which had been trem- bling more and more, broke down into a little muffled sob. Goodness, gracious! how I felt. The blood went tingling down into my toes, and the tears ed into my own eyes. J had never had the least idea that that delicate, high- bred, bewitching little beauty regarded me with any particular affection—at least, with any staticsenel— a0 strictly cousinly. For a moment my head whirled, and | forgot all about the gold ring marked ‘‘ B, to A.” I tried to remove the little hand which, she had placed before her eyes, but she would not allow it; I saw the tears break out beneath her fin- rs, and, quite overcome, I bent and kissed the Foedoene! and the hand; but she started up pet- tishly, wiped her eyes, and declared she was erying just to think how bad my sister Emme- line would feel when she heard of my going away! oo nd don’t you feel bad, too?’ I said, rather sheepishly. ‘‘ Nol” she said, earnestly, ‘‘ why should I? Yow’re only my cousin |” F “T wish you wasn’t my cousin,” I began, and then I thought of Annie, and stopped short. “So do I, since you’re going to run off and leave us without a beau this winter. I shall have to get a substitute,” she added, langhing— and with that she ran off into the parlor, and began to sing, as she stuck a row of pins around the holder, just as if she hadn’t been crying,the moment before. I never did understand wo- men, and I never expect to. When I came to say good-by the next morning, Minnie was no- where to be found; she had hidden herself in some of the upper rooms. Adelaide gave me a iece of sisterly advice as to my conduct through ife, kissed my cheek, and wished me ‘ God- speed.” I vowed in my soul, as the tears start- ed beneath her gentle words, always to keep pure and true, and worthy of the respect of such women as Adelaide. : My uncle himself went down in the carriage with me to the dock; the ship had dropped out into the river the previous day; I could desery the bustle of preparation on board, and hear the shouts of command as the officer of the deck prepared to weigh anchor. Captain Jones and another of the officers were still on shore; the only other passenger was waiting in the small boat; up came the captain and mate, I wrung my uncle’s hand, jumped into the boat with the others, the sailors dipped their oars and we shot off to the vessel, Two hours thereafter we were creeping out of the lovely bay of New York, before a light autumn breeze, which just kissed its blue wa- : ters into little wreaths of snow. . Like a white host yim the ship silently past the fo rough the Narrows, out—out into the illimit- able ocean. The setting sun plunged into his nightly bath; a pink flush dyed the waters; now I turned an eager glance forward—anon a regretful look to the fast-fading hights of Staten Island. In a low voice I hummed: ** Shades of evening round us hover, Isle of Beauty, fare thee well.” I experienced a sudden interruption to m song; something was the matter with me; I felt strange—then queer; the truth forced itself upon me—I was sea-sick. I will not trouble anybody with the history of the next three days; on the fourth, the steward helped me u on deck, and I was ‘myself again”—myself, only renewed, relined, and refitted—good as a bran new article. My senses never seemed so keen to enjoy; even to breathe that salt sea air was a luxury, Oh, the glorious idleness of the next few weeks! nothing to do but to bother the sailors with questions (which they seemed pleased to have me ask), and to watch the ever- changing face of the seaandsky. Talk about the monotony of ocean life! as the sailors say, it is only the lubberly land that is always the same. Every billowis a study, every cloud, every ripple of air; a thousand hues upon the water, from inky blackness, to purple, violet, green, blue, dull white; a thousand changes in the heavens; while the study of the winds alone meu keep one ae! § made myself a favorite with the ship’s crew by the interest I took in their profession; the declared I ought to be master of a vessel; an while they laughed at my ignorance, they strove which should teach me most. I liked nothing better than to listen to their yarn which they were always ready, when off o: duty, to spin for my benefit. One solemn old tar, in particular, told me more stories about sharks than would fill a volume; his fancy seem- ed so impregnated with those horrible creatures, that it was always giving birth to whole shoals of the most exaggerated species. Poor old Billy! he certainly must have carried about with him an impression of his final fate. Doomed to die at the hands, or rather the teeth, of the mon- sters he so detested, his own destiny was cer- tainly floating about in the sea of his imagina- tion, taking now this, and now that, grotesque, and frightful shape. He, so to speak, lived over his own death, a thousand times, in tales of the catastrophes which had occurred to others. Many a time he made my blood run cold, and my nerves quiver with his shark stories. rs day—we were lying off Ceylon, unable to make the island, on account of ad — some of the sailors proposed to vary the tedium of our long voyage by a salt-water bath. The warm waters of that Indian ocean did indeed look tempting, purpling in the light of the de- clining sun. Not a ripple stirred the surface. We could look down, down, into their lucid depths. I leaned over the gunwhale re pe! of the ‘ ls under Oman’s n wee fe) mermaids and coral ves; Billy touched me on the shoulder and asked me if I did not want “a swim.” I blushed to acknowledge my in- ability. I had sometimes sported in the mill- Se near my father’s house, but I scarcel red venture over the ship’s side, much as longed for the fun. ‘“ It’s a pity such a likely chap should be such a land-lubber,” said the old tar, as I declined the invitation; and, indeed, I felt quite cheap under the veteran’s evident compassion. ; Some seven or eight of the crew stripped and went over into the sea. I watched them as they sported about in the soft and gentle element, wishing heartily that I dared to join them. Billy, the oldest of the number, was neverthe- less the most expert, and his antics in the water excited my admiration.. My eyes followed him as he struck out boldly some distance from his ne ne nn ne UU UU EEE EEE REEEEEERR EERE compares ile I was silently wondering how far he in- tended to venture, he suddenly turned and put | back. It seemed to me that he was making ex- traordinary exertions; he fairly flew through | the water. ‘The others did not notice him; but, as he came nearer, I was certain there was some- thing wrong. All at once he gaye a shriek, which rings in my ears yet; for a moment I saw his face, ghastly, convulsed with an expression of mortal terror—and then, old Billy disappear- ed forever. A commotion in the waters and | streaks of blood upon the surface, told his fate. | You never saw such a pale-faced set as came | scrambling up the ship’s fore rigging and tum- bling over the bulwarks on the foci They all | escaped except the destined victim; while the | sharks quarreled over him, his comrades barely had time to secure their own safety. Alas, poor Billy! He was my friend, and I can not recall his ic end without a tear dimmi Now he would roll it in one cheek, now in the other, blow it out, squeeze it up—and when he brought up his story with a more than usually tough lie, we felt as if all the responsibility of the statement rested on the vile weed, which would then invariably expand in both cheeks at once, while he had to pucker up his withered lips to keep it in. That night, delicious odors from the cinnamon gardens along the coast were wafted over the sea; the stars burned like small suns, and were of various colors. I remained long on deck, mourning for Billy, and drinking in the glori- ous beauty of a Tropic night. e next day, for the second time in over three months, I se foot on land. The other occasion had been on the barren island of St. Helena, and had been a welcome event; but now, never had seem- ed so ravishingly beautiful. I found the climate delicious—warm enough to inspire ardor of mind and feeling, but not a any means intole- rably hot. The ship was tolay by for two weeks and take in freight consisting of cinnamon, pep- per, coffee and tamarinds. Ihave mentioned that I had a fellow-passen- ger. He was a young man, of English nt- age, by the name of Emmons, whose father was interested in the ebony and ivory trade of Cey- lon. This, then, was the end of the voyage with him. He was born on the island, but had been in England three years at school. Before | returning to Ceylon, he had gone to America to establish an agency for his father. We had been good friends through the long weeks of the voyage, being both young, and keenly alert for all the enjoyment there was to be got out of life. His temperament was different from mine—he was more cool and prudent, and had much more worldly ye yom 9 being my senior by four years. I felt, before I touched shore, almost acquainted with Ceylon, he had told meso much of his boyhood’s home. He had visited the 2a ree on the other side of the island; ad hunted, when a little fellow, along with the natives, in the beds of the streams, after a freshet, for precious stones, which were often washed down from the mountains; and he had once found a very eo a worth many hundreds of dollars, which he had given to his little sister, Edith, and which his father had caused to be set in a handsome necklace of pearls and gold. He also told me how the natives hunted elephants in the dense and dangerous forests lying inland; and we agreed, if fortune favored us, during” ma eae stay, to engage in such an expedition. e talked much of Edith, who, he said, was a little girl of twelve or thir- teen, or thereabouts—a good little creature, who loved him dearly. _ Iwas very much surprised and pleased when just before we landed, young Emmons invited me to make his home my own during the fort- night of my visit. He it so heartily, say- ing he knew his father and_ mother would be lad to receive a friend who had added so much his happiness through the voyage, that I could not resist my own inclination to accept. ““There’s father,” cried Charles—he had re- uested me to call him by his given name—as the small boat neared the dock, and before it touched, he had fair] marae ashore and was in his parent’s arms. Mr. ons, a tall, digni- fied looking person, received me ely, but with kindness. I was not bold, and I think my modesty made a favorable impression. A “ car- riage,” a queer-looking vebicle, with a native. driver, awaited us; we got in, and were driven: rapidly through a hait-tngtish, half-Dutch look- ing town, about two es into the suburbs, where we stopped before a low, wide, eastern mansion, nearly hidden in a wilderness of flow- ers and trees, as to me as they were strange | brilliant. In the distance I noticed a palm-tree, and felt that one of the dreams of my boyhood was But, while the charm of this foreign country was stealing over me, almost be wae me to for- get_ my companions, I heard Charles utter an exclamation, and beheld a lovely girl flying down the avenue, who cast herself upon his breast with the most impassioned words and caresses, “My darling little Edith!” I heard the» brother say.
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SS affectionately ; ‘Charlie loved was a friend of hers immedi- Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. This, then, was the little sister, of whom he had spoken, and of whom I had thought, as a child. So absorbed was she in the meeting that I doubt if she even knew of the —— of a stranger for several moments. During that time, 46 eyes were riveted upon her, and I 2id not hear the remarks which Mr. Emmons may have addressed tome. If the heavens had opened and let out an angel from its bloom- ing courts I could scarcely have been more sarprised. How can I describe Edith? I can rot! You must not think that you have gath- ored the faintest idea of her grace, beauty, and enchanting artlessness, from any thing I may say about her. Picture a girl-woman of four- teen—an age, in that glowing tropic land, quite equal to seventeen in the colder clime—with soft, sky-blue eyes, an exquisite complexion, light-brown hair, glittering like gold in the ee and worn in its own natural curls, a slight but full figure, dimpled arms, pretty feet: e had all these, yet her greatest charm was in her artless manner, and in the grace, pecul- iar, and all her own, of every movement and at- titads. Never can I think of Ceylon, but I see her fiying down the flowery vista, her white lawn dress fluttering through ranks of scarlet blossoms, and hear her silver-sweet voice crying her brother’s name. “But you must cease kissing me, long enough to welcome my friend,” said Charles at last, laughing, and meat oy her white arms from about his neck. ‘‘ Mr, Perry, this is my sister, abe her hand alm gave me her hand, greeting me ost it was A ae that anybody ware “You must not wonder that I am a little em- barrassed,” I said, feeling happy and at home ail at once, ‘‘for your brother been draw- ing _— portrait for me, as that of a little girl bP] “Well, I am a little girl—nothing else, am I, papa? But Charlie forgets that four years have iven me time to grow in.” ““T wouldn’t have believed it,” said Charles, Jooking with a sort of incredulous fondness at the sweet sister hanging to his hand. So, laughing, well-pleased with each other, all excitement and joy, we came to the portico of the house, where stood the mother, waiting to welcome her long-absent son. Her happi- ness’ was more quiet than Edith’s, but two large tears, which fell upon her cheeks, testified to “her emotion. It was a pleasant reunion—and I was not made to feel that I intruded upon its sacred- ness. A few words from her son gave Mrs. Emmons a history of our acquaintance, and ren- dered her welcome a motherly one. In two days I felt as much at home in that elegant house as though a member of the family. The exquisite co with which I was treated is something beautiful to remember. It brought out all that was most refined in my own nature, and, few as had heretofore been my opportuni- ties, I believe that I acted like a gentleman, be- cause I felt like one. “Tt seems to me you have lost that remark- ably adventurous spirit which distinguished you on ship-board,” remarked Charles to me, on the third morni “You have but a fortnight to tarry in Ceylon, and you haven’t said a word about an elephant-hunt since we landed.” I blushed, as I answered: “The fact is, I have been so happy in this Paradise that I forgot all about the e ephants, ‘ except when I saw them in the streets at work. Everything is so novel—even the dishes at table, the birds, the flowers, and your dear mother makes me home-sick for my own.” he Sagi about my sister?’ asked Charley archly. “Oh Miss Edith is a thousand times prettier than Emmeline. I admire her the most of any living creature I ever saw; but, you needn’t be uneasy about admitting me to your Eden—my fith is pledged to one at home. You may allow me to ire your sister, without dan- gor. ‘* She’s only a child, anyhow, Ben—as much of a baby as the day she was two years old. She tikes you very much, calls you her ‘brother,’ already. We shan’t know how to spare you, when your time is up. But now, about the hunt: father does not wish us to venture; it’s dangerous sport, you know, and he says we had better leave it to those who make it a business. But my heart is set on it, and I think we must tying it about. In the mean time, you shall have the next best thing, an elephant-ride; and megtoee too, in those woods which you see yonder. 1 He pointed to a distant forest, extending from the ‘rdlased mountains, far down upon the plain. At its nearest point, it seemed at least twenty miles distant. ‘“‘Father has two elephants,” he continued, ‘¢which he employs in loading boats, and other heavy work. He has said that we could have one of: them for our expedition to-day. You shall have something to tell of when you get back to America. It is twenty-five miles to the os in whose shade I propose we shall dine. ou shall eat cocoa-nuts under their own trees; for a table-cloth we will have a leaf of the tali- pot tree, which is only thirty or forty feet in diameter. Edith is going with us. ere is Polo and his driver, before the gate now. Come, Edith, Polo waits! Bring along the hamper, Candy,” (this last to one of the dusky servants so plentiful about this oriental estab- lishment.) Edith came running out in a wide-brimmed straw-hat, to protect her from the sun. Her dress was a little different from the ordinary, the skirt being shorter, revealing the silken full- ness of a pair of Turkish drawers gathered about her ankles. Ithought she looked prettier than ever in this fanciful costume. Her mother followed her to the door, to caution us not to go any further into the forest than was customary, for fear of serpents or wild beasts. Charlie promised her that he would take us only to that civilized portion from which all wild creatures, eo the birds, had long = departed. ‘““We are only going to the cocoa-grove,” he said; ‘‘we do not propose to venture into the forest proper. You know where the sprin is, mother, where the three palms stand? ell that is our limit; there we shall spread the gold luncheon you have ordered for us; there we shall stay until the great heat of the day isover expect us, at abou dusk this evening. Besides, mother, Tam well of those rice-birds , 1 intend to bring “For birds. If we see an which are nice when stuff: home a dozen for breakfast.” Before the gate stood an immense elephant, fully twelve feet high. On his back was a sort of padded circular saddle, with seats for four. The animal was gayly decorated with trappings of scarlet cloth, with silver fringes. ‘*He is insulted if you don’t dress him u when he goes forth for a holiday,” exclaim his cornack, or driver, tome. ‘‘Oh, he is wise, Polo is, and he likes Miss Edith next ‘to me. She can do anything with him, almost. See him roll around his eyes at her!” Edith gave the creature a sweet cake which she had brought in her hand for him, petted his extended trunk, and bade him kneel. He at once obeyed, and sunk on his knees, when with- out assistant, the gay-hearted girl one up his huge side, and into the saddle. Charlie and I followed; and the fourth seat was assigned to the weighty and important hamper, which was charged with the duty of keeping up the bal- ance. The cornack then sprung onto the ele- phant’s neck, spoke a word, and the mountain of flesh struggled to its feet. I felt as if seated onan quake—a ship in a storm was nothing to it. Edith’s silvery laughter rung far and wide at my expense. For the first few miles I had much difficulty in keeping my place, and once I plumped down on my knees before the fair girl opposite me, with such suddennéss as to discon- cert her. The next instant, her provoking laughter made the blood tingle in my ears. ‘What do you laugh at?’ I cried; “‘here I got down on my knees before you, to tell you how much I adore you, and you injure my feelings by your ill-timed merriment.” “Tf it’s only your feelings that are injured,” was the merry response, “‘ you are fortunate; I was afraid your bones were broken.” ‘*No,” said I, ‘‘ but my heart is.” Thus, with nonsense and mirth, we beguiled the time. The road wound through f t cinnamon-groves and coffee-plantations. ith grew more charming every moment under the excitement of the ride and the fresh air; the color ——— in her cheeks; her eyes bright- ened, and a lovely animation made her almost too beautiful. I admired and loved her as if I were, indeed, the brother, which she sometimes called me; I never should have dared to aspire to awaken any more impassioned sentiment in her innocent breast; besides, I was still true to my vows to Annie, although not knowing whether she had received those vows with anger or tenderness. Once, only, when dear Minnie wept in my presence, had my thoughts strayed for a moment—and then, surely, it was compas- sion, gratified vanity, or what not, besides love that moved me. I never tor saw a an beautiful woman that I did not immediately adore her; but the one sacred, household love —that I kept for Annie. Thus much in explana- tion. As we got further into the country, away from the habitations, which were at first fre- quent, Edith sung for us, sweet English songs, in a voice still sweeter. She called on me for something American. I had a tolerable voice, and knew a little of music, having actually taught the country singing-school the previous winter; so I sung for her three or four of our sweetest negro melodies. She was charmed with them, and immediately began to learn the airs. Then I had to teach them to her; and all of us were surprised when the three palm-trees came in sight, which was the goal of our jour- ney. Hale an hour later, we disembarked from our elephant. Polo was led away a short distance by his governor, who fastened him lightly, more for ceremony than need, to the trunk of a tree, whose branches afforded a grateful shade to the fleshy creature, at this nearly meridian hour. The servant busied himself cutting wild rice for Polo, while we looked about for a talipot-tree to get that very large leaf which Charlie had prom- ised. We had to go quite a little distance into the grove to find one, and then it was enough for both of us youths to drag. We deposited it at Edith’s feet, beside the spring, beneath the palms, where she forthwith began to cumber it with a tasteful, substantial luncheon. Never were cold chickens and sweet rice-cakes like those to which we now addressed ourselves; never was wine so delicious as that which we cooled in the spring. Our appetites and our spir- its were like those of healthy children. Ah, lit- tle did we anticipate the terrible dramain which we should play a part that day! We thought of nothing but enjoyment; the werld seemed made for us, so calm was the deep blue sky, so yey and delightful that haunt beside the foun- n. We lingered long at the feast, and then we called Aba, the driver, to gather up the frag- ments for his own refreshment. It was yet too warm to think of returning; Charles was eager to apend a couple of hours in the grove, shooting birds, and wished me to pee a ed him, Jet we were not willing to leave Edith alone, who would find it too fatiguing to keep with us. **Don’t remain on my account,” she said, de- wena f “there is no danger of any kind here; and, if there were, Polo and Aba would defend - me from it. I must have my noon siesta; and I will tell you where I will take it—in the saddle, on Polo’s back. It will make a nice couch; and there I will be perfectly safe. Only don’t forget yourselves, and wander into the forest too far; you might get lost; and you know there are wey of wild animals, if you go far enough to d them.” “They are never seen in the grove,” remarked Charlie. ‘‘ A chattering monkey or two is the worst thing that ever I discovered here. Well, Edith, let’s see you safe in the saddle, before we i ‘colo was standing, and rather than trouble him to lay down, Aba, standing upon his coiled trunk, took Edith, as if she were a baby, and, with one little lift of the huge proboscis, swung her up into the seat. ‘This is as nice as need be,” said the maiden curling down in the center of the saddle, an making a pillow of her shawl on one of the cushions. ‘‘I shall sleep just two hours, and when I awake, I want my brothers to be ready to start on the home journey.” How lovely she looked, her bright hair stream- ing over the scarlet cushions against which her soft cheek was pressed! rned twice to stamp the picture on my heart—that gay, girlish creature, nestling to sleep, aloft from all creeping serpents or earth p, on the back of the majestic animal which upheld her couch. The faithful cornack added to the oriental character of the scene, as he reposed beneath the palms, his dark features and white oe brought into relief against the trunk of & tree We two young men sauntered quietly into the deep shadow of the thicker wood. As I had no gun, and was not a hunter, my attention was chiefly given to the new species of plants which I saw, and to the brilliant plumage of the noisy paroquets and cockatoos. «But Char- lie, who loved all kind of sporting, even to the shooting of fowls, grew Pe, She. | in quest of
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Roving Ben. the dozen birds which he had promised for breakfast. Again and again the loud crack of his fowling-piece rung through the forest. “ Come, lie,” I ventured, at length, look- ing at that very silver watch which I ad once en as security to the policeman, ‘‘ our two ours are more than half gone. Hadn’t we bet- ter retrace our steps?” ‘“T’ve only seven birds, but I suppose I can get the remainder on our way back. I shouldn’t ike my sister to get frightened about us.” ‘* Good heavens!” I exclaimed, a few moments later, ‘‘ what’s that?” I pointed up to the topmost branch of’a gigan- tic tree. ‘It’s only an ape,” said Charlie, laughing. “Of course it is,” I said, joining in the laugh at my own expense. ‘At the first glance I thought it was a madman, periling his life.” ‘*You ought to see a whole army of them, and hear them chatter at the sunset_hour. They’re hideous creatures, anyhow, and I don’t like them,” continued my friend. ‘‘ Ben, I’ve half a mind to shoot that ape.” “Oh, don’t,” I said, shuddering, “‘ it-looks too much like a human being. I should feel like a murderer.” The wild creature, as if it understood us, gave a yell of defiance, and sprung nimbly out of sight, from one tree-top to another. “What an immense fellow that was,” com- mented Charlie—“ the largest of the species I ever saw. Ido believe it was a regular orang- outang; it must have come from the very inte- rior of the forests.” A flock of birds here rose out of a marshy spot, and he fired upon it, forgetting all about the ape. After gathering up the trio which fell before the fire, he Peloaded his gun, and we sauntered on, my friend ever on the alert for game. “Come, Charlie, let us hasten our steps, for our two hours are up.” I know not what presentiment of evil came over me, but, suddenly, a shadow seemed to fall athwart the woods, and every thing to change; I felt impelled to run; but my friend laughed at my hurry. s oo ought to be flattered by your haste,” e said. At the very instant the words were spoken, a shriek rung out from the distance, that curdled the blood in our hearts. ‘“*My God,” cried her brother, ‘‘ that was Edith?” We ran as fast as possible, yet we seemed to stand still. Again, and the third time, we heard that cry of mortal terror and agony; we were not yet out of the thicker forest; we flew, though our feet were so much slower than our fears, that they seemed to cling to the earth; a mo- ment more, and we came out in full view of the spot where we had left the rest of our party. At first, we only saw Edith standing up in the saddle, stretching out her arms as if for help. Then we beheld the cause of her alarm. An immense ape, tye five feet high—probably the very one which Charlie might have shot—stood on the lowest branch of the tree which oversha- dowed Polo; one of his hands, first paasing around the limb, so as to steady its owner, hold of the flowing sleeve of her dress, and with the other he was rapidly gesticulating, all the while chattering in what was doubtless intended to be the most amiable manner. Totally unconscious of the character of the danger which threatened the young girl, I was inclined to burst out laughing at her excessive fright; Charlie, too, was provoked, half at her for the ‘scare ” she had ete us, and half at the audacious and disagreeable animal. *‘ We'll soon settle him,” cried the young man, rushing forward, showing his gun, but not daring to fire at the ape, on account of his sis- ter’s proximity. ; The brute saw us, and immediately changed his coaxing tactics. “Oh, my God!” gasped Charlie, suddenly stopping short. : he ape had caught Edith about the waist, swung her off as if she was no more than one of its own young, and was now leaping from branch to branch with her, nea defiance at us, until he reached the top of the lofty tree. There he held her firmly in one long, hairy arm, while he grinned down at us deously. I gazed with the fascination of despair, Oh, awful minute of suspense! As I think of it now, the sweat breaks forth at every pore. Polo, scenting mischief in the air, drew back and snapped the rope which bound him to the tree as if it been a thread. Looking up he saw his beloved mistress, and blowing a terrific trumpet of rage, he rushed at the tree, coiled his trunk about it, and seemed about to snap it | cause the latter to drop his helpless burden to off, in his . Charles gave another groan. But the sagacious animal took a second thought; even if able to break down the the tree the would kill his mistress as well as her captor; reluctantly he unwound his grasp, and stood, stamping the ground, until it fairly shook. Charley raised his shot-gun to his shoulder. But to fire, even if his aim was steady enough to miss his sister and to hit the ape, would only the earth, when she would surely be crushed to | death by the fall. Gazing up at the r girl, white and silent | | my brain | Then, as with his other hideous hand he began | out the su in that loathsome embrace, and at the ferocious creature which grinned and mocked at us, as if confident of the victory in this unequal battle, grew dizzy and my limbs numb. to pet and fondle his faint and shuddering vic- tim, strength came to me, and I said to Charlie: ‘“*T will go up in the tree.” ‘Then he will dash her to the earth,” was the despairing answer. “*T can but try to save her,” I whispered. “T will to coax the creature with this sugar in my pocket.” Taking the long, sharp knife which my friend had given me before starting, firmly between my teeth, I threw off my coat and mounting the elephant’s back easily reached the first branches. The ape looked down at me mali- ciously. His cunning eyes glittered and laughed; and when I was two-thirds of the way up, he held the girl out, and shook her, as if n- ing me that he would throw her down if I came any nearer. I paused, and held out the lumps of sugar; then again to ascend, reaching , and speaking conxiay Still he held Edith out, and mumbled and grinned at me. I was within a few feet of them, and now I knew not how to proceed. How long was this eternity of torture to continue? Oh, if I could only beguile that wicked, artful fiend—put him a moment off his guard, until I, too, could grasp the girl, then I would fight it out with him. M knife should decide the contest. But he was evi- dently on the alert, growing every moment more excited, as the prospect increased that his prize was to be taken from him. ey with extreme caution, I crept nearer. I opr from the limp manner in which the young gir lay on the monster’s arm, that she must have fainted. And now I almost face to face with my enemy, my feet firmly planted in a crotch of the tree, one hand clasping a limb, and holding the sugar invitingly, while with the other I strove to get hold, unobserved, of the floating garments which a light breeze waved toward me. Could I once get a firm hand upon these, the brute might loosen his p as soon as he pleased. But the wily creature was on his guard. Perceiving my effort, and that I was about to succeed, he sprung suddenly still higher, to the very topmost branch, which trem- bled and bent beneath his weight and that of his burden. Again I crept forward, when, suddenly, as if afraid of my success, with an ery the en- beast shook the delicate form which he held, and hurled it down through the air. A cry of horror arose from my lips; I was mad with the thought that this worthless, gibbering animal had murdered Edith; I climbed close to him, he threw out his long limbs to defend him- self, wounding my face and breast, but despai and anguish gave me strength; he wason a limb so slender that he dared not move further out. I struck at him with my knife, cutting off one of his hands—the third blow pierced his heart, and he tumbled to the ground. Descending, I looked about me with blinded eyes; it was some time before the haze cleared away, so that I could see Charles bending over his sister’s form, where it lay on the earth. I dared not approach. The thought of the pro- bable saeeuration of that lovely tenement which had lately held so bright a soul was too terrible for my courage. uddenly Charlie jumped up and ran toward me; he threw up his arms like a madman, came close to me, then turned and ran toward Polo, who was standing near the form of his young mistress, laid his head against the side of the gentle animal, pat- ted him, him, and burst into tears. “Poor Charlie,” said I, drawing near, “are you going mad?” “She lives—she lives !” cried he, hysterically, “and Polo saved her. God bless you; Polo!”— and with that he ran off frantically for the wine. Poor Aba, pale and trembling, brought water and threw it in the maiden’s face; Charles poured wine between her lips; but it was not until she could sit oR shuddering, and trying to faintly smile, that Charlie could tell me what part Polo had performed in the salvation of his mistress. It appears that the elephant’s atten- tion was fixed upon all that occurred; anticipat- ing, with human intelligence, the very catastro- phe which took place, he kept himself directly under the young girl, where she hung a in air; and as she came darting down through the light outer branches, his long, flexible, pow- a wunk wae ——— — i a softly, gently, and laying her upon the ground with- out a jar. She had fainted from excess of suf- fering before the final movement came; and her rescuer had stood watching her, while Charlie tried to revive her, with an expression of deep solicitude. So it was Polo that was the hero, and not myself, after all. CHAPTER V. CLOVE ISLAND. As soon as Polo’s anxiety with —— to his mistress was relieved, he perceived the dead body of the ape lying on the ground beneath the ere He ee By y di ew it, with 7A ew of rage, pierced it again and again with his’ tusks, “iy tossed it high in the air, until it was battered and bruised out of all shape. His fury was terrible to behold; but at the command of his cornack, he finally quitted the object of his wrath, and knelt down to receive his passen- gers, it being high time they were on the home- ward journey. Edith continued very weak and ill, from the dreadful nervous shock she had re- ceived; she reclined in her brother’s arms, with her eyes closed, a shudder occasionally pervad- pe foe — frame. pe tie he gerne 2 his ong, was very ous, explainin at much length how it was that he had thot =e ceeded in penouing Miss Edith; how, when he perverse pak ms e had run a and thither or a club, without succeeding in finding an and how he was just about to attack the ous empty-handed, when we appeared m the scene. We received his e upo! xplanations rather coldly, not convinced that he had shown an slptroany bravery, wich morvified the poor fe ow exceedingly. We were _——— half-wa home when ith, languidly unclosi her eyes, fixed them on my face; after looking a moment, she raised herself from her brother’s shoulder: “Brother Ben,” ‘said she What has done it? How -— is rites an a int expect that I did cut a so . Thad been so absorbed in her cxnghiiteaes that I had forgotten to bathe my wounds, as I might have done, in the spring, before we set out; there was alarge purple spot, and three scratches down one side o ~ face; my shirt was torn, and stained with the blood which came from the wound in my breast, which was much more severe than the one on my face. “How did it happen?’ she inquired. “Tt is nothing at all serious,” answeredI, . ‘and you must not agitate yourself about any ~ thing. Go to sleep, if you can.” ; But Charlie, thinking that would soonest quiet her, told her that I had climbed the tree, and the ape had struck me. Edith comprehended that I had tried to save her, and gave mea smile of gratitude. Then she lay back, and was soon in a quiet slumber, from which she did not arouse until we reached the house, which was more than an hour after dusk. We found the family out on the piazza, very anxiously await- ing our return. Our appearance demanded an pe mm Charlie briefly related our fright- ful adventure, when the mother, bursting into tears of mingled joy and terror, caught her be- loved child to her bosom, kissed her, and hur- ried her away to her chamber. She soon came back, however, to thank me for my poor efforts in behalf of her daughter, insisting upon wash- ing my wounds, and dressing them with bal- sam “you are hurt. y you look—your This unpleasant accident prevented our in- tended elephant-hunt; for it not only made the pa- rents unwilling to permit it, but my breast was sosore that I could not ride. Edith kept her room for two or three days; when she first came out she looked pale and nervous, but soon recov- ered her customary arch and sparkling gayety. I was doomed to carry the marks of the affair much longer than any of the others. _What good looks I had were injured for the present, though, terre O my eyes had®received no harm; and I do believe ‘that the disfiguring streaks down my cheek and temple made me more interesting, not only to Edith, but her mo- ther, than I should have proved without them, Nothing could exceed their kindness to me, Edith gave me a beautiful ebony box, inlaid with gold, and Mrs. Emmons, a costly emerald bracelet and brooch, “for my sister.” These
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. articles I made into a package, adding some lit- tle curiosities of gor gathering, and gave into the care of . Emmons, to be sent to America by the first vessel bound in that direc- ti on. It is one of the peculiarities of time and tide, that they will waitfor noman. Of course, they waited not for me; the ship received her lading, the fortnight fled, and the captain announced to me that on the morrow he should sail. , That evening, as I walked the piazza, arm in arm with Charles, he proposed to me to give up the idea of going to China. ‘ ‘““Why not remain in Ceylon?” he inquired. ‘* My father has taken such a fancy to you, that he will be willing to _— = a situation full as good as the one at Hong Kong. I believe you will like this island better than you will that stupid empire of the Celestials. You shall mane your home with us; mother has consent- ed to it. And, although Ixam saying what I have no right to say, yet, I do not doubt but that, if you and Edith should be thrown much into each other’s society, you anighty in time, become my brother in reality. should like such an arrangement. But, mind you, I am speaking for myself, not her—she is a child, who does not dream of love or iage.” ‘ We are brothers,” I said, pressing his hand, “in soul, Charles. I should like no aa better than this which you ——, old out tome, But when my uncle fitted me out, I promised to remain faithfully five years in his service. My honor is concerned in keeping to my promise. As tomy future wife, I intimated to you once, that I am interested in a sweet New England girl. I do not know that she cares for me. en I arrive in Hong Kong, I may receive a letter from her, containing a cold dismissal of my suit. sister—not so talented, brilliant, beautiful; I do not hesitate to avow, that if I had seen Edith with a free heart, I could not, for one day, have resisted her attractions; I have never seen one of her sex to approach her in every fascination —I do not wonder you are proud of her—but my first romantic sentiments were awakened by my New England Annie, and if she writes me that she loves me, I shall keep true to her. Should she refuse me, and can I, with honor, free myself from my ee he ge to the firm of Ketchum & Co., you will see me back here. Nothing could keep me away. I love this place; itseems as if I had lived here two years, in- stead of two weeks. 1 love and reverence your mother—she is my ideal of a woman. I love all of you! more than—” but my voice choked up, I finished the sentence by wringing his hand, Presently, Edith joined us in our pro- menade, We sung, and talked, and made pl of future meetings; it was a happy evening, just shadowed with the thought of rting. We were to send letters to each other whenever opportunity occurred. e next morning I bade all these dear friends farewell. I be to learn the wan- derer’s lesson—that, though sweet to make new friends, ’tis sad to part with them. Yet, if, as the poet says: “Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all,” then I may congratulate myself on the rich eote of yee memories which I have red up, as I touched this and that port of friendship while sailing over the wide ocean of tim, e. I did not forget to say good-by to Polo. Noble elephant! majestic in his affections as in size. I honored and respected him. Slipping a 1d-piece into Aba’s hand, I told him never to orget the most generous allowance of rice, the freshest baths, and an occasional sweet-cake for Polo. He promised, and I think Edith saw that the promise was fulfilled. Before midday we stood out to sea, and when night came down, the distant hills of Ceylon were a mere cloud-bank on the horizon. ri ing in a south-easterly direction, with every- thing favorable, in a few days we reached a port in Jaya, where I had a week’s run of the island, while coffee was being taken on board; but as no adventure of any note occurred dur- ing our stay there, I will give no lengthy ac- count of our proceedings. Now aera of making more directly_ for Hong Kong, 1e master of the vessel had orders in case the weather should seem promising, an the ship remain in good trim, to go by the Mo- lucas, or Spice Islands, stopping at Banda for nutmegs, and at Amboyna for cloves. Hidden rocks, sand-banks and shoals make the 5, ll tion in this sea of islands dangerous; but keeping in the more open waters, and making She is not like your the ports reef of the two mentioned, our cap- tain, who already made the voyage three times, did not fear to attempt it. As it would large! increase the oa of the trip, he re- solved to take the Molucas in his Wwe Although no onecould in any way blame Cap- tain Jones for the misfortunes which afterward occurred, the resolution proved a disastrous one. As we passed along south of Celebes, and were about entering upon the most difficult part of our navigation, the air began to give indica- tions of one of those awful tempests which sweep the torrid zone with such suddenness. The barometer fell rapidly; there was a sickly lull, and a deadness in the atmosphere, so that we almost suffocated for breath. I took my lace on deck to watch the curious yellow which ad settled down on the waters—a deep saffron —the horizon was something of the same color; the sky was neither clear nor cloudy, but full of a breathless vapor of a greenish tinge. There was something so oppressive in the heat, and so unnatural in the aspect of the sea and sky, that I felt appalled. ere I had, for two weeks, been sighing for a storm; yet now that one was getting up for my edification, I shrunk from the experience which I had desired. ‘What do you think of the weather?’ I asked, of the captain, who was walking about, giving his orders in an unusually imperative manner. “That you will have enough of it to satisfy you, Mr. Perry.” His tone was ve, and did not tend to lessen my anxiety. The sailors obeyed orders with alacrity, making every thing secure below and aloft; and then, as the blow began to threaten, we lay to, under spanker and foretopsail, both doubly reefed. Presently the shock came; a sudden midnight blackness shot up into the sky, while from the edge of the horizon, rolling toward us with in- credible swiftness, came a long white line of dazzling light. “Brace yourself by the mizzen-mast, sir,” cried out a sailor, to me, and I had just time to flng my arms about the mast, and cling for dear life, when the storm struck us. First came a whistling sound, sharp as a knife, then a con- tinuous roar, as of ten thousand thunders. Hea- vens! what a concussion was that, when the wind took the vessel. I only wondered that it did not pick the ship up and fling it about like a feather. For a few moments nothing was heard but the roar of the elements. The captain’s voice, as he bellowed his orders through a speak- -trumpet, was heard by none. en the first blinding wrath of the storm was spent, we found that our aftersail was split into ribbons, and that we had ship several seas. A little later, we discovered that several sailors had gone overboard, with a portion of the larboard bulwarks. Poor fellows!—the onl wonder is that I did not follow them to their watery grave. I certainly had no business on deck in such a storm as that. In the second blast of the tempest, only a lit- tle less furious than the first, our mizzen-mast went by the board. The crew were set to work to get rid of it, and after two hours of incredible exertion, had it over, which somewhat relieved the ship, which was rolling terribly. It lacked but an hour of sunset when the storm broke up- on us, and the horrors of darkness were soon added to our situation. However, the violence of the wind was sensibly diminished. In a com- munication which I m to effect with the captain, he told me that if we were out in the open ocean, he should feel ve ye ad safe, but what he feared was that we should be driven either onto some of the islands, or the rocks and sand-banks of this dangerous Archipelago. We were then nearly helpless, but got up a storm staysail, with which we headed the sea pretty steadily, but we knew not whither we were driving, nor how ‘soon we would strike upon some rock which would send us to the bottom, before we had time to say our prayers. Fortunately, we escaped for the present, this peril; but long before morning, the carpenter announced a foot of water in the hold, the ves- sel, stout and seaworthy though she was, bein badly strained. The pumps were manned, taking my turn with the others. Theleak prov to be very small; we found that we hey 2 pump the water out as fast as it came in; and, by lle break, the carpenter had discovered the leak, and effectually repaired it. This good news, and the cheerful beams of the sun, coming to- gether, restored our animation, so that we searce- ly felt the immense fatigues of the night. _I was dripping wet, and my excitement sub- siding, I began to feel chilly—so I went down to my closet, out of the captain’s cabin, put on dry clothes, and flung myself in my bunk, where I slept for several hours the deep sleep of exbaustion. When I awoke I perceived the captain sitting by the little table, his head bent on his hand in an attitude of despondency, while the glimmer of the small lamp did not make things look more cheerful. I was afraid something fatal had oc- curred and asked if matters were any: worse. ‘No worse, Mr. Perry, but bad enough. What cargo we've laid in, will be almost ruined by water; and the ship is hardly manageable. If IT could make some port where I could have her repaired, we might still do very well with our tea. But the voyage, even then, would hardly pay expenses. It’s worse luck than I’ve had for ten years—though it’s not for myself I care—it’s the loss of the owners.” - THe are rich, and can stand it,” I respond- ed. ‘‘Don’t take that to heart, captain. If you save the ship, you will do all that could be oped for, under the circumstances.” ‘Well, I mustn’t be down here, repining,” he cried, starting up. ‘‘I have not eaten nor drank yet, and I must stop for nothing, while the vessél is still in danger. Ill trust no one but myself to keep a look-out, untilI know what water I’m in.” Bravely did Captain Jones keep his word. For fifty hours he did not leave the deck. The steward brought him his coffee and hard-tack, where he stood at his post. With our storm staysail we made some progress; and to his sharp eye, ever on the alert, we owed our es- cape from more than one threatening rock and shoal. We passed several islands meanwhile, but they afforded no secure harbor, and were probably uninhabited, except by savages. ** After a storm comes acalm.” In our case, the calm was a long and wearisome one, pro- ortioned to the fierceness of the storm. On the hird day after the accident, the gale which fol- lowed the first tempest had subsided, through easy gradations, into absolute quiet. The hot sun shone down on the unwrinkled sea, which became smooth as a mirror. We were then out of sight of any land, except one small island, which rose up, about four miles away, pre- senting a bold, rocky front, seeming some three miles in length, and to possess neither vegeta- tion nor inhabitants. “This is worse than the storm,” remarked the first mate, on the fourth day of our forced rest. In that time we had not moved a quarter of a mile. There was nota breath of air, nor prom- ise of any. “How long may this state of things be ex- pected to last?’ I asked. ‘We once experienced a calm which lasted twenty-seven days; it was terribly trying to the sb wee Tecan tellyou. The crew got so they ad no appetite even for their grog and tobacco; you never saw such a listless, disheartened set— they were like sick men,” ** T hope we sha’n’t be kept much longer,” ob- served the steward, joining in the conversation; ‘if we do we shall run short of water. We did not take in enough to last us to Hong Kong, expecting to replenish at Banda, I must speak to the captain about putting the ship on half al- lowance, if he intends to make Hong Kong without stopping anywhere to water.” I casta aang look over at the little island, with which my fancy had been very busy for the four days we had hovered in its vicinity. ‘* Why not send out an expedition to yonder little pile of rocks?” I asked. “There may be water, if nothing else, to be found there.” ** Doubtful,” said the mate, “‘ unless it should be a little rain-water in the hollow of the rocks. These islands are frequently without any PE How “How would you pro to land—scale those or aoe aged cliffs, which are at least fifty feet igh on their lowest summits?” This question was asked by the steward, with a sarcastic smile, my land-lubberly ignorance being a source of much amusement to officers and crew eden ae. should propose,” was my answer, ignorin the sarcasm, to send out a t to row around to the other side, and see if a landing could not be effected there. There is very likely some in- let, by which we can land—and for my part,” I , “I should like nothing better than just such an exploring expedition. If you were as tired of this monotony as I am, you would en- ter into such a project with animation, Who knows what we may discover?” “The island, from this point, don’t seem to promise much,” was the dry rejoinder of the steward; but the mate caught at my sugges- tion with pleasure. “Let us get the captain's consent,” he said; “ it will at least give us a little variety; and if /
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! we are in need of water, we may make the dis- covery of some. Water is better than gold, under some circumstances,” he continued, in a tone that betrayed to me that he was of a experience. ‘‘I have seen the time when I would have given a quart of the yellow- boys for a pint of water.” would have asked him to spin for me the arn which I knew he had ready, but just now twas too eager to consult Captain Jones, and et his orders to go ashore. I started to find iim, and soon returned with his approval of the project. ‘“Tf we can get a supply of water here, we can better afford to take our time; and the Adelaide is not in trim to hurry herself, even with a fa- voring wind. She will go as rly as a lame duck,” was his remark, and he forthwith order- ed the jolly-boat lowered, and six sailors to row the mate and myself over to the island, whose base we were to skirt, in search of a place to land. It was about ten A. M., when we were ready to put off, having taken a cold dinner, and ex- pecting to return about sunset. The sailors were armed with .cutlasses and pistols, and we two were thoroughly armed, in case of wild beasts, or ugly savages; though we considered the island too barren to shelter either ; and the natives, where there were any, of those southern seas, being usually peaceable and gene- rous to strangers, Still it was prudent < be prepared for emergencies. *“Do you know what day this is?’ asked the beg just before we descended into the boat. NNO. ‘‘ Well, it’s the first day of the New Year. Looks a little different under this torrid sun from what you’ve been accustomed to, eh? I think we cues to keep it a little; and I’ll see if the steward has anything nice left in his store- house for supper. We've a live fowl or two. yet, in the coop, and some of the Preserved fruit we got in Ceylon. I hope you'll find wa- ter on the island. Good luck to you.” The crew cheered us as we pulled away. So little variety was in their present life, that the trifling event of sending off a boat was enough to rouse them from the stagnation into which minds and bodies were sinki Despite the terrible, scorching rays of the sun, the sailors pulled with a will, and we were soon near enough to reconnoiter the bold ledge of rock which rose up out of the sea, almost without break or fissure, to a hight varying from fifty to seventy-five feet. Nothing discouraged by thi we ordered the men to pull around to the west- ward, and, upon making that side of the island, we discovered it to be of greater magnitude than we had supposed. It presented a front of at least ten miles in extent, while its northern extremity, which was toward the ship, was not over three miles. We continued on about five miles—the cliffs gradually running down, so as to present a wall of only fifteen or twenty-five fect—when we came to the inlet for which we had been looking. A small stream, some two rods wide at the mouth poured into the sea eee hep rocks, which ny as oa - — n left open on purpose by the of Na- ture. We tarped oar course into this stream, proceeding cautiously, for fear of rocks in the channel, or enemies on shore, about fifty yards through the divided cliff. , Already a fresh air came about us, laden with an overpowering fragrance, at once delightful and exhilarating. As we shot through the loft, barriers, and came in view of the green inland, exclamations of delight broke from every one of the party. _ We had gone through the forbid- den gates, s eppnt into an isolated ise. The other shore of the island was visible, by giim ) through the groves of trees; not rocky like this, but stretching along a belt of silver sand, the ocean glittering, in a broad, unbroken sheet, be- yond, Except the gorgeous birds, chattering and flying among the boughs, not a living thing was visible. There were owers, everywhere— under foot, in the short, smooth grass, and over- head on the branches. The stream ys oe to come from a spring at the head of the eee and glimmered like a silver ribbon here an there, through the enchanting vistas which opened before us. The foot of man_has never before trod this earth,” exclaimed the mate, leaping to the shore. “Iname. this Wall Island.” — ‘“* Appropriate, so far as the Wall is concern- ed, though not very poetical,” I said, following him, ‘“‘ What a fragrant, delicious, aromatic odor pervades the air?” “Don’t you recognize it? It is that of cloves! And, by George, this is one vast clove garden. See! this tree, by your side, is one of them. | fruit in abundance. Roving Ben. Examine the flower; it is just right for gather- ” pes was a tree somewhat resembling the laurel; the leaves were in pairs, oblong, large, spear- shaped, and of a bright green color. It was covered with a vast profusion of flow- ers, growing in clusters, about half an inch in lenin the four points of the calyx being promi- nent, and having, in the middle of them, the leaves of the petals folded over each other, form- ing a small head, about the size of pea. This was only one of thousands. The island was shaded with trees, and more than half of them were clove-trees—acres and miles of them. A few cocoa-trees were also visible, with half a dozen other kinds peculiar to the East Indies; some of them, the mate informed me, being valuable for dyeing purposes. The sailors moored their boat, and threw themselves down, glad to enjoy the cool shade. They had first disembarked our luncheon, which we spread in this delightful spot, and ate with appetites increased by the repose, the beauty, an. aii solitude which surrounded us, .‘* Mate,” said I, “ I’m going | to — it to the men to vote. We've all a right to have a voice in naming this island, being all equal discover- ss = which may no cloven foot ever tread,” said the mate. We washed down the sentiment with a glass of the cold, pure water, which gushed before us, more welcome than any wine. After they had eaten, the men stretched out to prepare themselves for the fatigue of rowin back to the ship, by a slumber in the fresh, so: . As for me, I enjoyed myself too greatly 5 sleep. Just to breathe the air was A momen and, as I watched the far-off sparkle of the sea, I felt like Tennyson’s Lotus-Eaters: “How sweet it were, leaving the downward stream, With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half-dream! * * o* * * * ” We have had enough of action, and of motion, we Rolled to larboard, rolled to starboard, when the surge was seething free; When the wallowing monster spouted his foam- fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it, with an equal min In the hollow lotus-land to live, and lie reclined On a aes like gods together, careless of man- ind.” In that hour, it seemed that I could be con- tent to live forever in that perfumed land—a life of indolence, without ambition, without en- deavor—only, it should be a life of love. I would have my Annie to come and dwell with me in this lovely ocean realm. But all my sweet visions of an Eden, into which Mammon and the spirit of trade entereth not, were dis- sipated by the next words of the mate. ‘*T tell you, Perry, this is a jolly piece of luck! Our captain’s been dreadfully under the weather since his cargo got wet; now, here’s a chance to repair losses, and make a little pri- vate spec., besides. ‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any mg and a dead calm mayn’t be so entirely foul as it looks. Here’s an im- mense crop of cloves wants gathering badly. We could fill the ship from stem to stern in | three days, without a dollar’s expense to any- body. You see the profits ll more’n make up our losses, and give us some fun, too.” “How are they gathered?” “We can spread cloths under the trees, or sweep the ground clean; then beat the trees with bamboos, or long rods; or pick such as we can reach by hand. The men will think it nothing but a frolic, ially if favored with an extra allowance of grog, The only delay will be in drying them; but three days of this intense sunshine will be enough for them. In the mean time, a small part of the crew can fill the empty water-casks, and we'll be O. K. again. Hurrah for the Adelaide! there’s no ae the wind out of her sails!” Although having no interest in it, as a specu- lation, I was charmed with the idea of several days’ visit to Clove Island. Nothing could have suited me better, so I seconded the mate’s enthusiasm. We returned to the shi able report, which put the captain in good spir- its, and we celebrated the completion of New Year’s day with such a feast as our resources peeiie®: Our stock of fowls, taken on at Cey- on, being not quite exhausted, we had chickens with curry an ~o rs 3 Pq Eee aot BH So Fe age FBO ghes Vises -8 a8 mee & gece efse oy Sok ages yt Bs 5. fu ee E es ¢ a7. ae ee ee Ge ae eee po ee ee i ee oe eee er Bs with our highly favor- stuffed ducks, with preserved | The sailors were given | 9 grog bape tobacco, with nuts and sweet-cakes all round. The next morning, very early, the whole ship was astir. All the boats were manned, and a few water-casks taken along—only one denn officer, and two ree ar left on the vesse We had fine fun that day! e escape from the monotony of ocean life, as well as the novelty of our employment, kept us all in jovial humor, and very willing to work. We beat down cloves by the ton. Selecting and sunny spots of rock, we spread them to . We had plenty of fresh cocoa to eat and drink, with several other kinds of pleasant fruits. At sunset the captain and the smallest portion of the crew put back to the vessel to oe the night; but, as the land»seemed dry and healthy, and the distance to the ship was several miles, the greater part of the ee Piso ph se to remain. The water-casks were filled and return, ed (very fortunately) that first night. Every _— of the island had been explo during the y. There were no indications of its ever hay- ing been the abode of man. : ‘Tf the Dutch had known of this, we would not have been picking cloves here to-day,” re- marked the captain. As the boats put back toward the ship, I mounted the high ledge of rock to the right of the inlet. The sun was just setting. Far off. toward the south, I was certain that I saw land — gewdinng A a large island, which might be, for all ew, the Amboyna, at which we had ex- pected to lay in a supply of nutmegs. I thought nothing of this discovery at the time; but it was destined, on the morrow, to assume more importance in my mind. There were eleven of us who stopped on shore that night. Myself and the mate were armed, as usual; but the men were not, as our per ie ge ~ of the previous day had sat- isfied us that there was no danger. We had brought some blankets from the ship. I never enjoyed a sweeter night’s rest than that, with the great, blazing, many-colored southern stars shining over me, and the odors of clove and cham trees floating around me, and lulled by the ippte of the stream which fled by my side. At four o’olock we were up, and breakfasting on hard-tack, dried-beef, and rum - and-water. By five, the remainder of the crew had joined us, and we set to work upon our second day’s harvest with unflagging spirits. Our first day’s gathering was rapidly, and, as the intense calm still continued, we felt that we were improving instead of losing time. We worked for about five hours, and were on the point of “ lying off” for a biscuit and a short stesta, when the attention of some one of us was attracted to a number of dark spots advancing rapidly over the water, from the direction in which I had discove land on the previous evening. His exclamation caused us all to turn and look off over the open ocean, which was clearly visible from the western and southern shore. A few moments’ observation convinced us that the dark objects were canoes, and that their destination was our island. Here was a pretty interruption! The ne: swore, and waxed wrathy, as only an old sea-captain and the mate cussed softly. However, we still hoped for the best. As they approached, we ae Nea that they were filled with large num- ers of dark-colored people, men, women and children, and that = ad quantities of bam- boo rods with them. We at once comprehended a the hey mi doe of the product of the isl- and, an come clove-gathering, this bein; now the hight of the onan eG the fact that they were clothed, quite decently, in grass- cloth garments, and other marks of semi- civilization about them—some of the females wearing trinkets and cloth of European make— we concluded they were of those native tribes which had been in contact with the whites, and that they, probably, carried on a trade with the English or Dutch, exchanging spices for other articles, The officers of. the Adelaide consulted hastily ~ together. Very unfortunately, the crew were entirely unarmed, except with the big pocket- knives which they carried for cutting tobacco. The question to be decided was, whether thesena- tives would be friendly or unfriendly, The pro- babilities were that they would be angry when they found strangers intruding upon what they considered their property, We ew that the Dutch, with their characteristic avariciousness had seized upon all the commerce of spices, and had even attempted to prevent other nations from joining in the Spots, (by making efforts to have the spice-trees uproo in all the islands not immediately under their rule. them, and the equally grasping English, the Between
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{ \ { f eee SS Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. poor natives had fared rather hard. We con- jectured that some tribe had discovered this lit- tle spice-island, and had kept the matter to themselves—coming here, yearly, to gather the harvest. If so, would they not be provoked to find those rascally white thieves intermeddling even with this hidden treasure? All of these speculations of ours proved, ul- timately, to be the truth. In the meantime, the canoes struck the shore, and their crews, to the number of at least two hundred, came swarming to the land like bees. The three of- ficers of the Adelaide, and myself, were armed with revolvers and knives. We observed that all the men among the new arrival were also armed, with thick, short clubs. There were, at a rough estimate, a hundred of these swarthy fellows, with their clubs swung at their backs, What chance would eighteen of us, nearly un- armed, have, in a “free fight,” with the stran- gers? Yet Captain Jones was very loth to give up all the rich results of our two days’ harvest, and to retreat, ignominiously. It was against the Yankee in. We took the vote of the company, and it was unanimous, even among the eer at ay defenseless sailors, to remain and, at least, to ‘see where the land lay.” If the new-comers proved friendly, all right; we would agree upon a fair division of the on If they commenced an attack, we were to fight, and fall back to our boats, which were in the rear, most opportunely for us—the officers to cover the retreat of our men with their fire- arms. As, yet, the visitors had not discovered us; but now, as they advanced up the beach to- ward the grove, the first t they came upon was a long row of sheets, which we had spread thickly with cloves to dry inthe sun. They at once seemed to comprehend that intruders had snatched from them their secrct wealth; they set up a mingled howl of mage and grief, which, I will confess, made the blood feel a little chil- ly in my toes. Then their dark eyes flashed lightnings into the grove, in search of the marauders. They soon discovered us, drawn ee ary in a compact body, and looking insig- nificant enough, no doubt, before their superior numbers. Instantly every war-club was swung from the shoulder into the hand; the women and children fell to the rear, and the wild band rushed forward, as if toannihilate us. We four, with the revolvers, stood in the advance; but as Captain Jones had no desire to spill the blood of these innocent people, if it could be avoided, he took cut his white handkerchief, and held it up, thinking that, in their intercourse with civil- ized nations, they had perhaps learned the meaning of a flag of truce. They paid not the least attention to the symbol, though, bbe ong they knew the character of our fire-arms—the sight of them, held steadily, giving them a mo- mentary check. Perceiving that only four of us were thus armed, eee took fresh courage, probably not aware that these little instruments could deliver more than one fire apiece. Enraged beyond expression, and ‘‘ sp’iling for a fight,” (asa jolly Irish tar declared in my ear, as he stood behind me, with a jack-knife in one hand, and an impromptu shillalah in the other) the appearance of the attacking party was suf- ficiently frightful. How suddenly had human assions changed the aspect of this Garden of den! With a yell, as if to inspire each other and terrify us, they charged upon our little band. Our first fire, although it caused three of their number to tumble to the earth, did not seem to make much impression on them; they pressed us so closely that we were obliged to a way a step or two; but as we still con- inued to fire, rapidly, and with some degree of coolness, each of us bringing down a man at nearly every discharge, the savages began to ex- hibit ‘some consternation. All this time were slowly retreating; but our furious enemi had nearly encircled us, and our sailors were taking their share of the engagement, defending themselves with their knives, and some of them securing the clubs of fallen savages, with which they laid about them in a style which rivaled that of their opponents. & T had fired five of the six shots in my re- volver, with good effect, and had leveled it ata brawny fellow who was pressing me hard, when he sent it whirling out of my hand by a rapid stroke of his club; instantly he raised his weapon a second time to break my skull for me, but I dodged, stooped, picked up a club from the hand of a fallen warrior, parried his blow gave him another as good, and could have stood my ground with him. But superior numbers were now beginning to tell against us. Another came to the aid of his comrade; I kept them both at bay, for perhaps two minutes, then a * blow from a third unseen foe, in my rear, felled me to the ground—a fiery darkness came over me, and I knew no more. CHAPTER VI. A PRISONER OF WAR. WHEN I aroused from that deathlike stupor, the scene was changed. I unclosed my eyes, to perceive that the sun was near setting, and that the savages were all about me, beating the cloves from the trees with their bamboo rods. None of my companions were visible. They had either n driven from the field, or were murdered, or captives like myself. A captive I knew myself to be, for I felt the grass rope about my ankles. I was bruised, sore, and un- comfortable, so that I could not restrain a slight groan. Instantly the savage nearest me, who was a woman, gave a soft cry, which attracted the attention of the others, who ran to look at me. All was commotion about me. Expres- sions, which I took to be those of hate and re- venge, were freely poured forth. And truly, I did not wonder; for when I raised myself so as to sit up, I saw the bodies of thirteen of their people whom we had slain lying in a row, at a distance, in the grass. Around these the rela- tives were keeping up a moan, though the rest of the visitors seemed to have gone to their busi- ness of picking. I pone nothing better than to be instant y killed. Im only one face did I see any signs of pity, and that was the woman’s whose cry had first attracted the others. When my eyes met hers, I could not turn mine away and Ihave no doubt there was a mute a for life in them; and, although she said nothing, gave me not even a gesture, I felt that she was my friend. .A few moments later I saw her ing earnestly with a tall savage, evident] a man of influence, whose brow was dar with anger, as she argued with him. He turned frequent furious glances at me, and shook his club, while the crowd gathered about him, as it were, to hear the decision. Oh, what would I not have given to be able to understand their language?—that I might know what fate was in store for me. There was much two parties, evidently—one who sided with the chieftain and one with the young woman. At last, the latter seemed to gain the approbation of the majority; and soon, I, earnestly watch- ing, concluded that her views, whatever the were, were to be adopted. At this I felt a flu ter of hope. As I have said, I felt that this young creature was my friend. eavens! what would my emotions have been had I known that she was eagerly recommending that I, in- stead of see instantly beaten to death, should be kept until the close of the harvest, which would take about three days, and then should assist at the grand feast to wind up with, in the shape of a well-roasted man!—that she was elo- anes pleading the fatness of my limbs, the youthfulness of my appearance, and the tender- ness of my flesh! Yet such was the case. All that health which Thad gained on my ocean voyage, and which had shown itself in the act of rounding a person which had been thinned by growing too rapidly —all these good looks upon which I had (just a little) prided myself, were now become recom- mendations to secure me this terrible post of honor at the coming festival. One old hag did come up to me and feel of my flesh and joints, as I have seen purchasers pressing the breast- bone and examining the color of the legs of a fowl. I shivered under the touch of the fingers, as the awful comprehension of what it all meant, forced itself upon my brain. : Could I, then, be mistaken in the construction I placed on the interference of the os my behalf? I watched her constantly. ntly, when the company had again gone to their ork, she began to beat the tree in whose shade I was epatiisel What a beautiful creature she was, for a savage!—a new style of beauty which struck my ardent imagination as somethin lovelier than any description I had ever read o Indian beauties. Black hair, straight and glossy descending to her knees; a low, smooth orehead, delicate features, and a complexion difficult to describe, unless it be to call it ‘‘rud- dy gold.” It was a clear, light brown, with a olden tinge, and a warm streak of crimson in the cheek. Scarlet lips, and eyes soft, black and lustrous—not bold eyes, but modest as loving— with a form the perfection of all symmetry, rounded and supple. She wore a rather full garment of pliable grass-cloth—bleached as white as linen, and nearly as fine—which fell just below the knee; it was fastened about the waist with a girdle of crimson flannel, worked with the feathers of gesticulation and warm discussion—there were. birds and colored threads, and came up well on the shoulders. Her arms and ankles were bare; and what made me think her a girl of family was the silver necklace and bracelets which she wore, which were of some value. She had a white cloth bound about her head, to protect her from the excessive heat of the sun —which had something the air of a Turkish turban; it was sufficiently picturesque, but I liked her better when she took it off, as she did, after a while, when, wearied with beating the ne she sat upon the grass, ate cocoa, and looked at me. It was now sunset. I felt very hungry, faint. tired and sore. My héad ached dreadfully. It was half broken by the blow which had knock- ed me down and rendered me insensible for so long atime. I felt a keen anxiety to learn the fate of my comrades. From the fact that I saw no others, prisoners like myself, and no dead bodies of white men, [ ho they had made good their escape to the boats. And if such were the case, the thought that they surely would return, armed to the teeth, to attempt my defense, thrilled me with something like comfort, ‘As long as there is life there is hope.” Surrounded by this savage and un- friendly band, eborted by my company, left helpless on this lonely island, to be fattened for a feast of cannibals, life still seemed to be as certain as ever—I could not believe the cord was to be so suddenly snapped. I thought of Annie—of my dear mother and home—and wished I had something to eat, and that my head would stop aching. It was probably the policy of my captors not to allow me to grow thin, through being fam- ished, ey three days before I was to be roasted. ile I lay there, languidly gazing at the young savage, and off on the peaceful ocean, still unrippled by a breeze, the same old hag who had felt of me, brought me a cake made of bruised rice, which was tolerably fit to be eaten. She also brought a cocoa-nut, which she cracked for me, giving me the milk to drink. I was very feverish and thirsty, and I quaffed the draught eagerly. But when she cracked another and another nut, insisting by — and even by ——e me with a bam- rod, that I should drink, and I was com- pelled to swallow, until I was full up to my throat, I began to look upon myself in the light of a well-fed pig. It was evidently her inten- tion to fatten me on milk, so that my flesh would be as tender and succulent as that of a baby or a roasting-pig. Other old hags came grunting about, watching the process, to be sure that the task was well performed. When they had stuffed me to their satisfac- tion they Jet me alone, though there were always plenty of black, flashing eyes ae guard over me. The young girl had now been joined by several others of her own age, two or three of them very rancor Serpe , and not ugly; but none so pretty as she who had first attract- ed my attention. I fancied there was some natural interest, independent of the eating question, in the curious regards which they fix- ed upon me. They would laugh and show their white teeth; and then, as if scared at showing how much they were pleased, would look away, forcing their countenances into gravity. I had read how the women of all savage countries, especially those of dark complexion, always ad- mired the white man; and I we ge it possibly for my benefit to be as agreeable as possible. So I assumed a sad, melancholy air, once or twice, when they broke into a giggle, smiling out of eymnpaihy’ _ “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;” I verily believe such was the case with these merry young things and my- self. I saw that they liked me. And I believe if they had had the power, or had dared to assert their wishes, that my salvation would have been secured. As for the young girl who first noticed me, she did not giggle and laugh like the others; yet I never turned my eyes to her face, but I met a steady compassionate gaze, full, too, of more than pity. head felt so very badly that I took my handkerchief from = pocket, held it toward her, and by the mute language of signs, intimated that I wished her to dip it in the creek, which was not far away, and bind it about my head. To my surprise, she frown- ed, remaining motionless, utterly refusing to do me this little kindness. Some of the others took the handkerchief, wet it, and fastened it about my brow, even slily stroking my cheeks, as they did so, a8 they would have stroked a pet kitten. To pay them for this service I took some small silver coins from my purse and dis- tributed them. They evident knew their value, and were highly delighted. I tossed a.
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half-dollar to the silent beauty, when she hurled it back to me with a look of scorn. I felt more disheartened than I can express by this change in her conduct; for I had gathe I know not what of comfort and hope, from her gentle, tender regards. t . A wild scene now occurred, which for a time engrossed all my attention. The relatives of the deceased warriors, amid yells and funeral cries, conveyed the bodies of the dead to three of their canoes,and chanting a piercing death- song, rowed away toward their home, just as the deep flush of twilight gave way to the full luster of the moon. The rest of the party, hav- ing escorted them to the shore, returned inland, and for atime seemed much excited. Threat- ening gestures and revengeful looks chilled me with fear. The young girl sat silent, with down- cast eyes, but I could guess that she was intent- ly listening, by the changes which flitted over her face. The warrior who had before threatened me, approached me with a club. This time, it was the old hags, and not the young girl, who inter- fered. He was again induced to subdue his re- venge to his appetite. In such sickening alter- nations of hope and fear an hour passed away. I am not ashamed to confess that I suffered much mental distress. If I could have been un- bound, a club put in my hand, and left to sell my life as dearly as possible, death would not have been so terrible. But to be knocked in the pe like a chained brute, took the courage out me. After a time, the discussion ended; the whole party had a fine feast of fish, which they roasted in the sand, fruit and nuts; and then, wearied out with a long day of excitement and labor, they spears glad to betake themselves to rest. ight young fellows, the bravest of their num- ber, lay down close to me, after having first ex- amined my fastenings, to see that all were se- cure, They did not intend to allow their victim a chance to escape. ; - I could not sleep. A burning fever had seized me. Strange, contorted visions of the different scenes through which I had lately passed, flitted through my brain, mingled with sweet glim of the old apple-trees and clover-fields at home. T was partially delirious; though not so much so, but that, at intervals, I the full use of my senses, and laid there, wens it could be possible that my friends had entirely desert- ed me—if they would allow the night to pass, and make no effort at rescue. : It must have been arg after midnight. The moon had set; only the large stars gave forth a clear, faint light; my fever had diminished un- der the cool dews, and all my senses were on the alert. I closed my eyes; as I lay there I heard not the slightest sound, when I suddenly felt soft fingers at work over me, loosening the ro which bound my feet. I lay perfectly quiet; for it flashed over me, like a revelation, what work was being done. Presently a light hand touched my face. I unclosed my eyes; the girl in whom [had taken such an interest was bend- ing over me, her r on her lip. She motion- ed me to rise; I did so, without noise, then si- lently, sinuously, as a panther or a serpent, she glided amid the forms now sunk in the deepest sleep of night, I following her with equal cau- tion. For half an hour we continued slow, vigilant pace, until the outskirts of the rag ment were reached. Afar off I could see the faint glitter of water; we were still a mile from the ocean. Now, my companion took my hand in hers, and started on a run, and so swift were her feet, that I, wounded as I was, could hardly keep up with her. Once or twice she uttered a low syllable of impatience at my tardiness; she feared discovery and pursuit; I could hear the panting of her bosom, and knew what risks she was eyes Pay my sake. At last we reached the shore. The canoes were all moored together in a little fleet. She sprung into the smallest one, which was, however, a lumbering, ungrace- ful concern; I followed; both of us caught up paddles, and pushed out into the sea. Already a red glow came shooting up the east, for the tropic night was brief. : 6 motioned to me to steer theskiff; I under- stood that she wanted me to make for the ship, which was not visible from this side of the island. We bent ourselves to the task of pad- dling the unwieldy canoe. Verily, we needed a good start, in case of pursuit, for our boat requir- ed half a dozen pairs of arms. Both of us turned frequent glances back to the shore. It was every moment growing light- er. At last we had skirted the eastern coast, and rounded the bold headland at the north; we were out of sight of our pursuers, even should they now be searching for us. Roving Ben. 11 An hour later, as the sun shot up into the ho- rizon, we lay under the long shadow of the Adelaide; I shouted to the men on watch to help us aboard; my companion climbed up the side like a squirrel—we were safe on board. I turned to look at my preserver. Her face was flushed with exercise and emotion; her breast heaved; she gave me a triumphant smile, and sitting down on the deck-planks, looked up at me with timid joy. CHAPTER VIL. LOTUS. I RECEIVED the congratulations of the officers and crew on my escape. They were astonished at beholding me alive; for they had supposed me killed before they left the island. This was their excuse for not coming back with all their force and attempting a rescue. The mate had seen me receive what he supposed was a death- blow, after I was down; and as the tide of bat- tle was setting against the whites, they had re- treated to their boats. One of the forecastle men had since died; another had an arm broken. The captain was savage about the loss of his men, as also about the loss of the cargo of cloves. ‘“What’s the use of giving up so, captain?’ I asked. ‘‘Go and get your cloves. Those black rascals have added enough to your score—as much as you ¢an e space for. Take your men, arm them well, go back, and drive off the savages. Their number is less than it was yes- terday. Not only what you killed then, but their relatives have all gone off to dispose of the co . Now is your time, before these return, perhaps with additions to their party. Take possession of the stock on hand; we can finish the drying process on deck.” The captain swore a big oath that he would take my advice. The boats were Spee. got in readiness; all hands were piped to man them; all the available weapons put on board. T wanted to go along; but he would not hear of it. He said I must go to bed; or I would have a dangerog® fever—he was his own doctor, and he now proceeded to examine and dress the wounds upon my head. When this was done, and all ready for a start, our glances turned L's on the young creature crouching on the deck. We inquired, by gesture, if she wanted to go back to her people. She shook her head, burst into tears, and murmured a few broken words, which sounded not unfamiliar. ** Avast there,” cried one of the sailors, who was a Dutchman, ‘let me hail this strange little craft, sir. I believe I can make out her eae ee it’s Dutch colors she’s sailing un- er. Surely enough, the pretty savage was stam- mering a few Dutch words, which we easily guessed she had learned from the colonists, who were the virtual owners of many of the spice islands. ‘“ What does she say, Frans?” asked the cap- tain, who was impatient to be off. “She says her ple will kill her if she goes ” answered the soft-hearted tar, ‘‘and sure they would, cap’n—hadn’t you better take her in tow?” ‘““ What in thunder ‘ll we do with her?” was the pertinent reply. While the brief discussion was going on, the young creature looked up in my face as if to read her fate. I felt awkward—embarrassed— I wished, positively, that she were in Halifax— for I saw the men on a broad grin, and the of- ficers smiling—but I was not mean enough to send her back to pay the ransom of my life with her own. A true and manly impulse made me brave. LI looked into all the curious, sarcastic faces, and said, vely: oa Gentlemen, she has periled her life to save me. I cannotsend her back. Sinceshe has left people and land for me, I will do the best I can with her—she shall be to me as a sister, As such I shall care for her, and protect her.” This ended the matter for the present. The men, feeling a momentary generous impulse, cheered my little speech; then the boats were quickly manned and pulled away, leaving me alone with the wounded man and the young girl. Every other person had been called to bear part in the effort to dislodge the savages and recover our spice. I had put a bold face on my situation, yet I felt intensely embarrassed by it. This young creature h thrown. herself upon my care in such a manner that I could not turn her off. The ship was a bad place for her; though, as I vowed, I intended to take her under my protection as carefully as if she were my sister. If I had been going home I should not have been so troubled, as in that case I knew my mother would take her off my hands, and be good to her, out of gratitude for her having saved my life, But in the land to which I was going, without a relative or friend of the poor girl’s own sex, I should not know what to do with her. While debating these things in my mind, I would occasionally turn an anxious glance at her, as she sat silent and a in the spot where she had first placed herself. I always found her looking at me, with a soft, submissive gaze, which almost drew the tears to my own eyes. I wanted to show her that I was grateful, and that I con- sidered she had a claim on me; yet I did not wish to make her fond of me. Here was a dilem- ma which would have puzzled an older and wiser person than myself. I brought her the best there was on the vessel to eat; and, looking over my little stores, I selected a chain of ebony beads, with a cross of the same material at- tached, which I had purchased in Ceylon, and hung it about her neck. She received it with the same delight which an infant would have done. Seeing her happy with her rosary, I went down to my berth, and took a much-needed y vis 2 When I arose the day was far spent. As I ascended to the deck, I perceived my little friend slumbering gently, the beads clasped to her bosom. She was aroused by the shouts of the approaching crew, whosoon came alongside, the boats filled as full as possible with a freight of cloves. | I knew, of course, when I saw them, that the expedition had been successful. All was now bustle and confusion, and it was some time be- fore I could be given the particulars, They had taken the savages completely by surprise, who, seeing their approach with plenty of cutlasses out vk ee on ee, oe ee eeing eir whi ey immediate directed to the far island. " “3 They could have been back earlier with their first boat-load of the spoils, had not the excessive heat of the middle of the day prevented. Now they were in haste to unload, and go off for the rest of the cloves, as it was not unlikely the sav- ages might return with re-enforcements. This they did; the third trip was made late into the night, by the light of the moon, and this finished + the business, we now having possession of the cloves gathered, and as many as the ves- sel would have storage for, if she reserved space for the tea she was to lay in at Hong ong. The next day I was ill with the fever of my wounds and the heat of the weather; but I in- sisted on giving up my little closet tomy charge and had a hammock swung for me, where i could have more air. It seemed to methat I should die in the close, stifling atmosphere. Fortunately, in a day or two, a light breeze ps oy? <P. The carpenter during the long calm, had repaired the vessel to the best of his ability with the materials on hand, and the Adelaide was prepared to take advantage of the first ripple of air. Oh, how more than delicious were our sensations when we saw a light flow of wind ruffle and darken that glossy surface which had mocked us so long, and felt it strike our brows, giving us a new lease of life? I revived under it with a wonderful rapidity. Through the few days of my sickness, the dark girl hardly left my side. She kept the cloths constantly cool upon my burning head, and fanned me with tireless patience. I had learned her name; it was unspellable, but much like Lotus—so I called her Lotus. Her ntle attentions won upon meday by day. As was convalescing, I amused myself learnin her to speak English. The first word ‘that taught her was “ Ben.” By pointing to myself when I spoke it, I showed her that it belonged to me, and she soon called me Ben. She learned rapidly to utter such words as she could speak at all, and to know their meaning, but many = our rough, harsh sounds she never could mas- rs Her demeanor was so shy and modest that no one had the heart to ridicule her, or to mention our relation with disrespect. Besides, they knew I would knock the first man over who did so, were it the captain himself. A thousand times I wished that innocent, devoted maiden, who revealed her love for me-in every glance and action, were safe with my mother, or some other good, Christian woman, who would be as tender of her as her flower-like nature demand- A flower she was, her soul opening to the rays of kindness, and closing when the least breath of blame blew coldly on her. I would have been less than human if I had not grown to love Lotus: I did love her, as one did a child who confidedin him. I do not know but that, had I not loved Annie, I should even
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12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. have been willing, ignorant and ‘‘savage” as she was, to make her my wife. CHAPTER VIII. THE SHIPWRECK. Au this time the Adelaide was proceedin with great caution, as she was out of her usu soundings. But the extreme watchfulness of her officers availed nothing in the end. On the ninth day of January, four days after she got under way, she struck upon a rock, which lay concealed under the water, and stove a hole in her bottom. About twenty minutes before the accident, the captain sounded and found fifty fathoms; all was cheerfulness and b activity on board—now, all was despair and confusion. We were entirely out of sight of land, in that immense southern ocean, and the ship could not possibly keep her head above water more than an hour, if that long. All that could be done, was to lower the boats, load them with a few casks of water and such pro- visions as could be rescued from the rapidly- encroaching flood. Fortunately, it was in the middle of the day, so that the horrors of dark- ness were not added to the scene. When the shock came, Lotus was taking her noon siesta down in her little closet; and I went down to bring her up, and found the water already wetting the cabin floor. I seized a small kit, into which I thrust a few of my dearest treas- ures, caught a blanket from the bed, and hurried Lotus up onto the deck. It was impossi- ble for her to fully understand what had oc- curred; and when it was explained to her that the ship was sinking, she showed much less alarm t the rest of us. She was accustomed to the water, could swim, so she told me when we were looking over the bulwarks together; and when she saw the boats she seemed to think then all-sufficient for our oses. Poor child! she knew not the illimitable fields of ocean, nor could she foresee the sufferings which were to come upon her. There were twenty-two of us, all told, and we divided into two boats, one of which was under the orders of the captain, the other, of the mate. There was time given us to arrange ourselves with as much comfort as such circumstances would permit; we secured water biscuit, brandy, a caddy of tea, a few pounds o ground coffee, a few blankets, and the ship’s compass. Scarcely had our preparations for the calamity been made, when we were obliged to pull away vigorously from the vessel, which suddenly settled down with a lurch, until only a bit of her bowsprit was visible, sticking above the water, where she had caught and rested on the treacherous rocks below. Tears came into many eyes when the ship went down. She had breas many a storm as easily as a duck breasts the ripples of a stream; and even when dismasted and injured by that terrible tropic tornado, she had recovered herself and held bravely on her way, until this hidden danger had snared her. Now the good slip Adelaide ‘was no more. We lingered around the spot the rest of that afternoon and night. We could not bear to leave it, while a vestige of the vessel remained; and then, where should we go to? The captain reckoned he had better put back and try and make the port of some of the inhabited spice islands—that was the nearest land, and that was a dreary distance away. His hope was, that, by getting into the course of vessels running either to or from China, we should be picked up. The boats were kept close together, and the captain was to guide them. The first day we suffered more from the intol- erable heat of the sun than from any other cause. Lotus appeared to bear it very well, being accustomed to it. We contrived to make a tolerable awning of our blankets and some bamboo rods which chanced to remain in the boats; at night we passed a rope between the boats to keep them together, for there arose con- siderable wind, and Clouds obscured what light the stars might have given, the moon now not rising until nearly morning. It was an anxious night, for we dreaded, above all things, to be rted. pe pefore daylight it began to rain. ep epees S the llth, if rained gently all-day. A thic warm fog enveloped the ocean, so that one could not see more than three or four yards from him. We were in constant danger of losing sight of each other, which, once lost, in all probability would never be regained. There was not even sun enough to steer by, and if any ships had been.in our path, there was more chance that they should run us down, than that they should rescue us. It was a long, tedious day; before dark, we lashed the boats together so that they o could not get apart. Our only comfort through the ing hours was to each other. from boat to t, for misery loves — Friday, the 12th, was a day whose brief his- tory—brief to you, oh, reader, but interminable to us—I scarcely care to recall. In our boat was the poor fellow whose arm had been broken in the fight on Clove Island. He was the jolly Irishman who had stood behind me in that me- morable battle, and his shillalah did good service without doubt. Mike had a gay disposition, and had borne the confinement and pain of his broken limb with great cheerfulness. But ever since we had taken to the open boat, he had been growing seriously ill. The loss of the Adelaide weighed on his spirits, and a fever, which might not have developed under more favorable cir- cumstances, now seized upon him with resistless fury. It was little we could do for his comfort, poor fellow! The rain continued to fall at in- tervals, relieved occasionally by a burst of sun- shine, only to make the damp and fog appear more sickening when it again closed in. Mike was delirious; now he would sing fragments of drinking-songs, and anon, he would “ fight his battles o’er again,” the natural pugnacity of his character coming out laughably under the irri- tation of fever. But none of us felt di d to laugh. Lotus shrunk close to my side, while her great dark eyes regarded the sufferer with pity and awe—once or twice I Was certain she was praying to her heathen deity. About the middle of the afternoon, the clouds cleared away—a deep-blue sky, cool air, and pleasant sunshine, made us all feel, for a little while, less miserable. Even Mike appeared to revive; but it was nature’s dying effort. After lying quiet a short time, he spoke up suddenly, Shar and loud: “Tt’s hard, sure, to go, and I only twenty- three. It’s my mother I care about, though. She'll be looking for her b’y home. Jake, if you live to get out of this, you'll tell what Ue se me, won’t ye? and give her my dyin’ ove. Jake promised, with a choking in his throat. He spoke only once more: ‘The Adelaide’s gone to Davy Jones’s locker, and it’s Mike must follow her, sure. I haven’t shaped my course just right to make sure of a port in heaven, but Pil trust to luck, now, and mebbe it’ll be all right.” A few moments after he had consoled him- self by Rare] to luck,” a spasm seized him, and presently was over. “Few and short were the prayers we said,” as we consigned him to the deep. We had not weight enough to attach to the body to make sure of its sinking; but the tide carried it away from us, and the twilight shut it from our — turday, the 13th, we had the most able weather of ny day since the accident; but this exposure, night and day, in open boats, was beginning to tell on us, and the confine- ment of the narrow space into which we were crowded, became almost intolerable. Alas! we thought then that our sufferings were great, but we had not yet tested the capacity of hu- man endurance. With food and water suffi- cient to last us two weeks, we fully expected ultimate relief, and therefore gave ourselves the privilege o bling about present mis- eries. Everybody bled, mere or less, ex- cept dark, silent, patient Lotus. Dear child! I did my best to sereen her from the sun and the night dew, and to enable her to exercise her cramped limbs. She was not accustomed to our salt food, and refused meat entirely ; the biscuit suiting her taste better. In the habit of taking boundless exercise, by nature restless as a bird, I think the confinement was more weary- ing to her than to any one else; yet she did not murmur; and for every little service I rendered her, she returned me such a warm, loving smile that I could hardly believe, in looking at her, that she suffered. I strove to vary the mo- notony of the time by going on with my in- structions in English, and by watching the dawn in her mind of the new ideas which she .| gathered from my words. All the other pas- sengers listened, and grew interested, for the lack of anything else to absorb their attention. Her childlike demeanor, and her patience, were so touching, that I think any of that rough crew would have interposed his own life tween her and harm, Well, the night of the 18th came down, and brought with it an irremediable disaster. A little flurry of wind arose, in the darkness, brief and not very fierce; but the rope was broken which had nightly bound the two boats to- | at — and thither, our boat tossed like a feather on the waves. In vain we shouted, one or more of us, ‘| constantly, to the captain to keep within hail; in vain he answe endeavoring again to make our company. When the flurry was over, our companion was not within call. Sleepless and anxious, we waited for the dawn, which came only to show us that our friends were not within the range of our vision. Thus did Sunday, the 14th, break upon us, more hopeless and downcast than we had be- fore been. I can not tell, nor hope to convey an idea, of how desolate we felt when we found the other boat had utterly disappeared. The mate had the command of our t; he had with him a pocket compass, so that we could still get our bearings. That day I read the morning service from a prayer-book which I had in my kit, and we all joined ina hymn. It seemed a little like home, and hope, to make this attempt to keep the Sabbath. But why dwell on the monotonous story of our fast increasing wretchedness? The history of one day was like that of another, only that each day our strength and spirits gave way a little more. At the end of seven more days of torture, we had not courage even to pray, ex- cept wild, spasmodic bursts of prayer ejaculat- ed by some one at intervals. It seemed to me, and I believe to the rest, as if we had always been living in an open boat on an interminable ocean—as if all the past were but a pleasant dream—and the faces of friends floated in my memory as parts of some intangible vision—as if there was no reality in the thought that a change might come, and we might some time live as we were racked by dreams of having lived. Thus far, none of us were absolutely sick; we were only worn and weather-beaten, with the wild look of those who are constantly watching for one thing which does not come. Lotus had changed much; the peculiar rich scarlet had faded from lip and cheek, and the exquisite roundness of the most beautiful figure I have ever beheld had wasted sadly. It grieved me the worst of anything to look at her. And if I looked at her, she would be sure to smile. Ah, Lotus, beautiful creature! heathen, ‘“ un- civilized,” though thou wert, thou remainest in my heart the perfect type of woman. Thy de- votion was boundless. ome, and clime, and people, ce, health and life, these were not too much for thee to bring a smiling sacrifice to the feet of him whom thou didst love. On the second Sabbath, the mate put us on half allowance of bread and water. Not once during all those terrible days, had we sighted ship or land. Andif we had gone thirteen days without, might we not go thirty? We dared not face the question; we did not wish to think of the future. And indeed, our powers of re- flection were very much impaired.‘ sort of stupor supervened upon our intense anxiety, and mere y blunted the sharpness of our dis- Another week passed away. During that awful period, five of our number died, and were thrown overboard. Curiously:enough, it was the stoutest and most robust of the sailors who first succumbed to this siege of misery. The mate, who was not a strong man, but who possessed a strong will, myself, who lived for Lotus, and Lotus, who lived for me, were the three who bore our privations the most firmly. It wasa striking example of the power of mind over matter. Those men who had least mental food to live upon starved soonest under physical hard- ships. But these were now passing the bounds of poral endurance, There was but a gallon of water left, and our allowance of food was half a biscuit twice a day. Doubtless we should all have perished during the third week, had not the tea and coffee thaws Sven yet a little longer our wasted existence. A few kernels of the roasted berry were distributed to each, or a few pinches of the tea, which, by holding in our mouths, and chewing, not only somewhat re- lieved our oppressive thirst, but revived our eb- bing vital energies. : Isaw that Lotus was failing rapidly, and I wondered how she lived from day og We had made her a place to recline in the bottom of the boat, with two or three blankets, and there she lay, very weak, and much emaciated, but the large, loving eyes as beautiful as ever. hen I saw how fast she was going, I resolved to save at least half of my own miserable por- tion of food for her, in the wild hope every hour, that some sail would heave in ght, and we might both be restored to our youn and joyous promise. But the first time I made the mpt to palm off on her some of my own por- gether; we were driven for a little while hither tion, she showed such horror at the thought,
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Roving Ben. and refused it with such vehemence, that I did not.dare to repeat the experiment. In vain I tried expedients to deceive her into acceptin that which was apportioned to me. I could no mislead her. No, it remained for her, artless and childish as she was, to deceive me with the stratagem of one who dies for love. It was the twentieth day after the shipwreck. Without strength to raise myself from where I leaned against one of the seats; I sat in the bot- tom of the boat so absorbed in watching Lotus, that, for a time, I forgot to look, with my strained and blood-shot eyes, for the ever-ex- pected, never-appearing ship that was to save us. The three other men who remained of our crew were also diverted from their watch to gaze at the dying girl. We had almost lost the semblance of humanity, so ragged, weather- beaten, unkempt, blackened and wasted were we, with our haggard features, and half-insane expression. But Lotus, thou h her slight form had shrunk until there eather only a little bun- dle of bones under the blanket, not changed so much in her face. Her silky hair flowed down on either side, and her soft eyes were lu- minous as they answered back my look. At last, she began to gasp for breath. I stooped and gathered her in my arms; I pressed her head to my bosom, and, for the first time, kiss- ed her. As I did so, she looked into my eyes with an expression of happiness. Then, as I saw she was going, I begged the steward for a little water from the last there was in the cask. But Lotus shook her head, and closed those poor, panting lips—she would not have it! By an ex- traordinary effort she put her hand in her breast and drew forth a little bag from the folds of her waist, forced it into my hand, smiled tri- umphantly, and died. t, think you, was in that little bag? Every grain of the coffee, every leaf of the tea which that poor girl had received. She had saved it—all—for me!—to prolong my life, until help should arrive, after her own loving heart was cold. Such is the devotion of woman—such o love of that young Indian girl—such was TUS. CHAPTER IX. “HOME AGAIN.” ArTerR Lotus died I must have sunk into a kind of stupor; I remember nothing that oc- curred; I could not force myself to touch the precious morsel she had bequeathed me; and passed into a state of semi-insensibility. Iknow not how long after—the mate says it was twelve hours—that one of my wretched companions shook me, and shouted aloud: «4 sail! a sail!” I looked up, with blurred and blinded eyes. Truly, there was a ship hovering on the horizon! t strange sight, we, who had been too weak to speak above a whisper, wept, laughed and shouted. We staggered to our feet and hoisted a blanket on a bamboo rod. Would the vessel see us, or would she not? My moment- ary excitement was sing, a faintness seized me—lI think I should have died in that moment; but I crammed my: mouth with the strong nm tea and sucked a little strength from it—so that, after all, I owed the preservation of my exist- ence to that love-offering of Lotus. By and by we'saw the ship tack and stand toward us. I distributed all my little store to my three com- panions—we drank the pane of water which remained—no need to save it longer! No! no! drink, comrades every drop! An hour later, we were hoisted over the side of the vessel which came to our rescue, four as miserable objects as you can have any concep- tion of. Aid came too late to one of us—a sailor died that afternoon—the rest of us strug- = for a time with death and disease, but nally conquered. When I gained life enough to take an inter- est in what was ing around me, I found that I was on a large American vessel, bound for—home! I was homesick enough to punish me for running away. I used to lie on the deck, wasted an ee pining for a sight of the old apple-trees, and longing, with a sick appetite, for a piece of mother’s pie. They say t every one must have the home-fever once; andThadit then. During those mately fi Soul gave my father the Socrates which had driven me forth. I reflected, that it was the way he had been brought up, and he knew no better way. He had led a hard and toilsome life, and sup- co his boys must tread the same path. Poor ther! I loved him then, for the first time— and I resolved beg if toil of mine could secure me a competence, I should contrive to smooth his dec. ears with rest . As for Seven deans Ttat a iy | tora “leon line and Annie Anderson, the winds and waters may whisper them—I cannot tell them. Oh! to lay m ad in the orchard-grass at Annie’s feet, and look up into her beautiful, lovely face! ** Oh, lift me from the grass! I die, I faint, I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain O’er my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast, Oh, press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last!” Thus did I sigh and dream, my adventurous spirit all gone from me. But the home-sickness at last ran its course, and I recovered from that fever, as I did from the exhaustion and lassitude consequent upon that pie Phe days of suffer- ing. As I grew stronger, 1 regained my cour- age, and was ready to face any future which fate might have in store for me. A flood of emotions rushed over me when we steered into New York bay. I remembered the high ambitions and romantic dreams with which my breast had been full, when I sailed out of that harbor. I was tired of wandering. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see mother, and to marry Annie. This was the end of my aspirations. When the passengers landed, I did not stop to visit the barber’s nor the tailor’s—I struck as straight a line as was consistent with the nature of the streets, toward the house of Ketchum & Co. My heart beat violently as I entered that es- tablishment, All at once it occurred to me that I might hear some very bad news. Hitherto I had been looking only on the sunny side of the picture. Some one asked me what I wanted; I asked if Mr, Gardiner was in. They replied in the affirmative, and I pushed forward into the little room which I knew so well. There sat my uncle, looking not a wrinkle older, He raised his eyes to me with the same sharp, yet kindly look—he did not recognize me. “Well?” he asked, waiting for me to speak. “Uncle,” I said, ‘‘1 have come home before the five years were up.” He got down hastily from his high stool, star- ing at me incredulously—at last he came for- ward, and shook me by the hand. “What became of the Adelaide?” was his first question. ‘She went to the bottom months ago.” But to relate all the questions which he asked and I answered would be to go over the whole story. I brought the first and only tidings of the ship. Iwas extremely anxious to know if the other boat had ever been heard from; it had not—Captain Jones never reported to the own- ers of the vessel. The non-arrival of their ship and her cargo was a severe blow to the firm, coming at a time when there were great mone- tary fluctuations; but they had borne it, with- out failing, and are now as prosperous as ever. Minnie and Adelaide are well—the latter mar- ried to a partner of the house. But about home—when had my uncle heard from mother? I trembled as I asked the ques- tion, and still more, when he hesitated, as if not liking to reply. “ Mother is dead,” was m dreadful fear. o—but my father was! e had died in less than six months after I left home, of an attack of pleurisy, brought on by working in the rain. Isat down in a chair and cove my face with my hands. Almost I would rather it had been my mother—for from her I had parted in love and kindness, but from him in anger. There were other tidings from home, but of less note. Mother had been very much broken down by father’s death, and by her ay on my account, who had been given up as lost months e My sister yo was =e d ible!—that yo irl, grown into a wife! Yet she was Tnty halt.» year younger than Annie—why not? So many changes! I began to dread the idea of going home, almost more than I longed to go. There was no chance to set out that even- ing, the last express train, which would take me within three miles of the old farm, having anrcany departed. My uncle told me to make myself presentable, and be ready to go home with him at four o’clock. I went out and had my hair om age of some of its extra length, got a warm bath, and a new suit of clothes, and went home with uncle Gardiner to dinner. Minnie was housekeeper now. She ran down into the hall, with her old, childish ™m when her father came in. She was prettier am sweeter than ever. Was she not my cousin? My heart was full of love for everybody, and I lifted her in my arms, and “g gr 93 again and loved, by proxy * again, all the women I lov 13 She gave a little feminine shriek, for I was tanned as dark as an Indian, and had a thick growth of hair over the lower part of my face. “ How could I suppose it was my girl-faced cousin?’ she asked me, a little later, when I had revealed myself. ‘‘I thought it was a bear.” Oh, what a dinner we , and what an even- ing after! Uncle uncorked a bottle of his rarest wine, in honor of the occasion, and after the dessert, we retired to the library, where it was midnight before my adventures had been suffi- ciently related. Minnie cried or laughed, as oc- casion required, and was immensely interested ; but her hand, all the time, was nestled in that of a fashionable-appearing young gentleman who called early and stayed late, and who sat on the sofa beside her without a ce hace, look from papa. I made up my mind that there would soon be another ween in the house of Gardiner; and I felt very glad, I am sure, that cousin Minnie had not worried herself any more on my account. Before I went away the next morning, she had asked me if I would not stand up with them. ‘With the greatest Fg cousin, if I am not married first myself.” I took the first train, and at ten o’clock A. M. was landed at the little village three miles from my mother’s house. I left my ge at the tavern, and set off on a walk. As I had left, so would I return. It was a beautiful June day; the air was redolent of roses. My step was swift and elastic as I trod the familiar road. I saw two or three of the neighbors whom I knew; but no one recognized me, and I gave greeting to none, for I wished to announce my own ar- rival. preecunty I came in sight of that little brown house before which I had paused so long, on the night of my flight. The past rose up with a vividness that overpowered me; I sat down a few moments on a are stone, to re- cover self-possession. So far, I had received no tidings of Annie. My uncle, of course, knew nothing of her, or of what she was to me, Whether she were living or dead—I did not even know that. Nor how she had received the letter I had sent her. Her answer to that letter had doubtless lain long in a foreign post-office, des- tined to be never received by him who so eagerly wished it. After all, she might never have loved me, nor cared what had become of that boy, Ben—as she and Emma used irrever- ently to dub me. ell! I would not sit there longer in doubt and fear. I would go on and learn my fate, were it good or bad. So TI rose up, and went on until I stood by the little gate. I could smell the clover, as I breathed its fragrance on that eventful night. Yet it was the perfume of roses which was on the air; the vine hung full of blos- soms where it curtained her window. I stopped before the gate, hesitating whether to make some excuse to enter the house, or to go on, first, to my own home, Perhaps if I waited a few moments, I should see her coming to the window, or out into the yard. Yes! in a little while I heard a gay sound of voices, and two young women came out onto the side porch, stopping to gather some flowers by the — before one of them came down the walk. ey were Annie and my sis- ter. 1 longed fo a both and clasp them in my ut I restrained my rapture for the joy of o a them. Emma looked more womanly than I — but v oun, still for a wife; she had a happy, pleasan : oa Annie, too, had grown older. old merry light had gone from her face—it wore a pensive, even melancholy expression, which more than made up to me for the sweet cheek being a shade less bright, the eyes less laughing. For did not this very sadness prove that she mourned the loss of one whom his own dear sister had al- ready replaced with another idol? So I trans- lated it, while the blood warmed in my heart with a bliss never felt before. “You'll come over to tea, then?” said Emma, as she came along the walk, looking back to her friend for an answer. : “Yes,” was the reply, “if George will come after me.” “Bring your husband along—tell him I in- vite him,” cried the other, by this time so near the gate that she observed me, and gave a little pra I stepped along; but so slowly that she me, giving me a glance of curiosity oS sete not dreaming Bo I i, _— as r toher. Ev about me had suddenly grown dreary as whiter. The song of birds and bloom of roses were gloomier than snow and storm. “ Bri our husband along !”—humph, my Annie (as I had called her in my thoughts ; was a married woman, too. There was no welcome for me anywhere. In soon as she did
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14 less than two years I had been forgotten and replaced. I had no home. The world was my home; and one place as dear to me as an- other. As I passed heavily on, I debated whether I should go at all to see my mother. My first impulse was toreturn to the village, and take the train to the city without speaking to any one. But, duty to my mother forbid. I would go and see if she, too, had cast off my memory. One day with her—and then—‘ the world was all before me where to choose,” again. I opened the front gate and passed around, by the well, tothe back sitting-room door. No | §—Nadia, the Russian Spy. one was there, and I went on to the kitchen door. Mother sat in a low chair, stringing some currants. How pale and thin she had grown; and how sad she looked, dressed in black. Did she wear the mourning for me as well as for father? ‘*Can I have a drink of water?’ I asked, step- ping on the threshold. She looked up, startled; the next instant the currents went rolling all over the floor, and she lay sobbing on my breast. Mother had not for- gotten me; tan, nor beard, nor change of years, | could hide me from her eyes. ““T have never given you up—though every one else thought I was foolish to expect to see you again.” A mother’s love! how true it is—how bound- less! it came, now, like a balm to the wounds my affections had received. It grieved me to the heart to part from mother again—but my resolution was taken. Emma was overjoyed: to see me; but she had a husband, and he had taken my place on the farm, so that I was not needed there. I was glad to meet my brothers, and gave them rea- son to remember my visit, for I bought them books and other presents, which much de- lighted them. But when all was said and done—the past dis- cussed, and the first excitement over—I was ready to go. Istayed a week. In that time I did not see Annie again. Emma sent her word that I was home, and she did not come to tea, At the end of my week’s visit, I kissed my mother, shook hands all around, and was off. Upon my return to New York, I found a vessel nearly ready to sail again for the East Indies. I quickly decided what to do. I would go to Ceylon, and ascertain if Mr. Emmons still felt inclined to renew the offer he once made me. That island seemed more pleasing than ever, since I had been so bitterly disappointed in the friends of my own native land. Annie Ander- son was married; and it mattered little where the winds of fortune blew me now: ‘Adieu! dear land, with beauty teeming.” Welcome a foreign shore! welcome the favoring breezes which waft me toward Ceylon, THE END. The Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Rooxn. By Thomas Moore........... 10e. 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron... .... Prey ot & 20e 8 Paravise Lost. By John Milton ............. 10e. 4 THe LADY or Tore Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 10c. 5 Lucie. 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ed ee Beadle & Adams’ Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the follow- ing highly desirable and attractive text-books, pre- pared expressly for schools, families, etc. Each volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type comprising the best collection of Dialogues, Dramas an Recitations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the season of i37i—as far as now issued—embrace eighteen volumes, viz.: 1. American Speaker. 10. Spread-Eagle Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 11. Dime Debater. 8 Patriotic Speaker. , 12. Exhibition Speaker. 4. Comic Speaker. 18. School Speaker. 5. Elocutionist. 14. Ludicrous Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 7. Standard Speaker. 16. Youth’s Speaker. 8. Stump Speaker. 17. Eloquent Speaker. 9. Juvenile Speaker. 18. Hail Columbia Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. 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The King’s Man, Agnes Falkland. reck of the Albion. Tim Bumble’s Charge. The Two Guards, Hates.and Loves. Myrtle. Ahmo’s Plot. Jo Daviess’ Client. Laughing Eyes. The Unknown. The Indian Princees, Rangers of Mohawk, The Wrecker’s Prize. The Brigantine. Black Hollow. The Indian Queen. The Moose Hunter. The White Apache. Dusky Dick. The Squaw Sachem. The Border Renegade. The Fire-Eater. The Prairie Scourge. The White Gladiator. Blackhawk, the Bandit, Antelope Abe. Old Avoirdupois, The White Brave. Red Dan, the Ranger. The Twin Trailers. The Border Huntress. Mountain Kate. The Blue Band. Wild Rube. The Specter Riders. The Young Mustangers. Black Panther. The Gray Hunter. SSRALSRSSALASHSESSSRSRERLERERN 3 (4 73 The Silver Bugle. Single Hand. 74 Cruiser of Chesapeake. Little Thunderbolt, 77 Quindaro. The Sea King. 81 The Two Hunters. Nick, the Scout. 84 The Seminole Chief. Two-Handed Mat. 8 The Fugitives. Abdiel, the Avenger 86 Red Plume, Boon, the Hunter 87 On the Deed: The Girl Captain 88 Captain Molly. Border Vengeance 90 Cast Away. The Black Spy 91 The Lost Cache, Ruby Roland 92 The Twin Scouts. The Young Spy 93 The Creole Sisters, Old Bear-paw 94 The Mad Skipper. The Masked Avenger 95 Eph Peters. Ethan Allen’s Rifles 96 Little Moccasin. The Wood King 97 The Doomed Hunter. The Balloon Scouts 98 Ruth Harland, Captain of Captains 99 Overboard. Warrior Princess 100 Karaibo. Black John ibo. 101 Maid of Wyomt 102 Hearts Yorover. 106 ae Phil. 107 The Peddler Spy. 108 The Lost Ship. 109 poate 110 The Hidden Home, 112 The Falcon Rover. 118 Rattlepate. The Tonkawa Spy The Rival Rovers Arkansas Kit Death Trailer Black Nick The Hussar Captain Mossfoot, the Brave The Crested Serpent Mustang Sam ESSE BBE EEE Wy SEES NEwUUU INU UN DNS SUSS SUS SEER SES Bue TUEUBERER PERESERRSRRNEES 114 Ned | awl g F Cuban Conspirators 115 The Sons of Liberty. The Corsair Prince 116 Port ie Last. The Texan Avengers 117 The Mohegan Maiden, The Girl Scout 118 The Water Waif. Caribou Zip 119 The Five Champions, Death’s-head Rangers 121 Vailed Benefactress. Glass Eye 12 Barden, the Ranger. Mountain Ned 123 The Missing Bride, Foghorn Phil 124 Sumter’s Scouts. Sonora Ben 1% The Hunted Life, Dick Darling 127 Bald Eagle. 313 The Red Brotherhood 123 The Gulch Miners, 814 Rival Lieutenants 129 Blackeyes. 815 Tiger Heart, Tracker 1 Od Honesty. aif iaurricane fl ph. e Texan 135 The Cherokee Chief. | 818 THe Stone Chiet 186 The Indian Hunters, 819 The Pear] Pirates 137 The Traitor Spy. $20 The Child Sp 139 The Border Foes. 821 Honest Han 140 Sheet-Anchor Tom. $22 Old Grizzly, the Bear- 142 The Sagamore of Saco. tamer 143 The Swamp Scout. $23 The Dashing Dragoons 146 Border Bessie. 8244 Will-o’-the- Wisp, the 147 Maid of the Mountain. Outlaw 154 Rob Ruskin, 8% Dashing Dick 159 Snowbird. 826 Old Crossfire 162 The Border Rivals, 327 Ben Bramble, the Hun- 16s The Unser nite #8 The B tain e Unseen Han e Brigand Ca) 169 The White Canoe. &9 Old Sareteey : 176 The Trader Spy. 830 Gray Hair, the Chief 180 Giant Pete, the Patriot. | 831 The Prairie Tigers 195 The First Trail. 832 The Rival Hunters 208 Masked Guide, 833 The oo a rapper. e ked Messe’ 209 Scarred Eagle. 4 Morgan, the Pirate 212 Silver Spur. Sty The Forest Monst e Forest Monster, 840 915 The White Hermit.” | 31 Red’ aS ho Indian Hi Moonta Git Giant © indian Spy. $42 Stella, the Spy 219 The Scioto Scouts, Be ee ore 343 The White Avenger Pee | g 0 e Mountain, E ide $is The Mohave Captive.”’| sc Gre Ponnaee ’ Standard Dime Publications. The Apache Guide The Mad Miner The Phantom Horse man 377 Winona, the Giant 3 Thornpath, the Trailer 71 Foul-weather Jack 872 The Black Rider 873 The Helpless Hand 374 The Lake Rangers 400 The Two Trails 875 Alone on the Plains Others in Press. THE ILLUMINATED DIME POCKET NOVELS. Comprising the best works only of the most popular liv- ing writers in the field of American romance. Each issue a complete novel, with illuminated cover, rivaling in effect the popular chromo. 1 Hawkeye Harry The Red-Skin’s Pledge The ee ag Ne Spy The Black Rover / Red-Belt, the Tuscarora S48 349 350 Keen Eye, the 351 Blue Belt, Guide Chief of St. Regis 352 On the Trail 878 Silent Shot, the Siayer $53 The Specter Spy 379 The Phantom Ship $54 Old Bald Head 880 The Red Rider 255 Red Knife, Chief 381 The Grizzly-Hunters 356 Sib Cone, Trapper g2 ‘The Mad Ranger 357 The Bear Hunter $83 The Specter Skipper 358 Bashful Bill, Sp; 884 The Red Coyote 359 The White Chie 385 The Hunchback 360 Cortina, the Scourge 286 The Black Wizard 861 The Squaw Spy 887 The Mad Horseman 862 Scout of ’76 888 The Privateer’s Bride 363 Spanish Jack 889 The Jaguar Queen 864 Masked Spy 890 Shadow Jack 865 Kirke, the Renegade 391 Eagle Plume 866 Dingle, the Outlaw “2 The Ocean Outlaw 367 The Green Ranger 893 Red Slayer 368 Montbars, the Scourge | 394 The Phantom Foe 369 Metamora The Blue Anchor rn S285 2 Dead Shot Moccasin Bill 8 The Boy Miners 50 The Wolf Queen 4 Blue Dick Tom Hawk, the Trailer 6 Nat Wolfe The Mad Chief The Black Wolf Arkansas Jack Blackbeard The River Rifles Hunter Ham Cloudwood The Texas Hawks Merciless Mat 6 The White Tracker 7 The Outlaw’s Wife 8 The Tall Trapper 9 Lightning Joe 10 The Island Pirate 11 The Boy Ranger 12 Bess, the Trapper 18 The French Spy 14 Long Shot Mad Anthony’s Scoutr 15 Gunmaker of the Border The Luckless Trapper 16 Red Hand The Florida Scout 17 Ben, the Trapper The Island Trapper 18 Wild Raven, Ranger Woilt-Ca 19 The Specter Chie’ Rattling Dick 20 The B’ar-Killer Sharp-Eye 21 Wild Nat Iron-Hand The Yellow Hunter The Phantom Rider Delaware Tom Silver Rifle > Indian Jo, the Guide 23 Oki Kent, the Ranger 24 The One-Eyed Trapper 25 Godbold, the Spy 26 The Black Ship The Skeleton Scout 27 Single Eye Little Rifle 28 Indian Jim The Wood Witch 29 The Scout Old Ruff, the Re 7 ind The Scarlet Shouldess The Border Rifleman 80 Tiger Tail, the Seminole 81 Death Dealer, the Shaw. nee Scourge §2 Kenton, the Ranger 88 The Specter Horseman 84 The Three Trappers 8 Kaleolah, the Witch queen 86 The Hunter Hercules 87 Phil Hunter, the Boy Slayer 88 The a Seout 8y e venger Others in Pres 30 Eagle Eye 81 The Mystic Canoe $2 The Golden Harpoon 83 The Scalp King & Old Lute 35 Rainbolt, the Ranger 86 The Boy Pioneer 87 Carson, the Guide $8 The Heart-Eater 89 Wetzel, the Scout. 40 The Huge Hunter 41 Wild Nat, the Trapper 42 Lynx-ca 48 The White Outlaw 44 The Dog Trailer 45 The Elk King 46 Adrian, the Pilot 47 The Man-hunter THE FIRESIDE LIBRARY. BAIARVATASSSAISHRERVLSSSAASALLLS 1 Was Sue His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell... 100. @ F.EeEernG From Love. By Harriet Irving ..... 10¢. 3 Dip He Love Her? Bartley T. Campbell.... 10c. 4 A Srrance Woman. By Rett Winwood .... 10c. 5 NapiA, THE Russian Spy. F. Whittaker....... 10c. 6 ‘Two Giris’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary R. Crowell. 10e. 7-8 LADY AvupLEy’s SEcRET, By Miss M. E. Brad- = Oo Kgs tas EERSTE LL tee Wi te taut! 10 LetaHTon GRANGE. Miss M. E. Braddon ... 11 THe Fatse Winow. Mrs. J. D. Burton ...... 12-13 Lost For Lovg. Miss M. EB. Braddon...... ; 14-15 TorLers oF THE SEA. By Victor Hugo..... 20c. 16 Tux Ocroroon. By Miss M. E. Braddon .... 10c. 17-18 Uncte Smas, By J. 8S. Le Fanu.......--.. 20¢. 19-20 DEAp-SEA Frurr. Miss M. E. Braddon..... 20c. 21-22 Lirrne Kate Kimpy. F. W. Robinson..... . 20e. 23 SowInG THE WInD. Mrs. R. Crowell.... 10c. 24-25 Brraps or Prey. Miss M. FE. Braddon...... 20c. 26 Tuat Boy or Norcorr’s. Charles Lever .... 10c ’s INHERIT. 27-28 ANCE. By Miss M. E. Braddon... ......- Figs nach Se Bejicn onatheaSen ws 20 29 A Grru’s HEART. Rett Winwood ........ 10¢e. 30-81 Rep as A Rose 1sSHe. By Rhoda Brough - re eae ee yy EA Pp ey . 32 Tue Lity or St. Erne. By Mrs. Grow 1....: 10c. 33 STRANGELY WED. By Mrs. J. D. Burton..... 10c. 35 ANNIE TEMPLE. v. J. H. In wee. 100. 86 Wrirnout Mercy. By Bartley T. Bampbell. +» 10c. 87 Buack EYES AND Bivr. By Corinne Cush- SiS eee oO eee 10¢, BRAVE BARBARA. By Corinne Cushman...... 10c. 2 SS hice a t Blount... 10c. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishe 98 William street. N. ¥-
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BEADLE’S HALF-DIME 1 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of ‘“‘ Vagabond Joe,” ete. Aladdin; or, Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, Tez Wircu or Darien. - By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 1 Rebinson Crusoe, His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer; or, THE FuaGitrve Yaocurt. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy; or, THe Pitor OF THE PRarRI£E. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- woop Dick’s Deriance. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of ** Deadwood Dick.”’ oi Frontier Angel. Kentucky Rangers’ Life. Ellis, author of ‘*Seth Jones,”’ etc. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Tur Boy Roprnson Crusoe. By Col. Juan Lewis, THE WONDERFUL A Romance of By Edward 8. DEADWOOD DICK. 1 Deadwood Dick, Tre Prince oF THE. Roap; or, Tae BLAack RiDER OF THE BLACK By Edward L. Wheeler. 23 Nick o’ the Night: or, Tur Boy By T. C, Harbaugh. Spy or °76. HILis, Yellowstone Jack; or, Tam TRAPPER f OF THE ENCHANTED Grounp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr., author of “* Pacifie Pete,” ete. Kansas King; or, The Rep RIGHT Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F, Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 5 Vagabond Joe; THE Youna WANDER- ING JEW. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire IN THE NortHWestT. By Edward §. Ellis. q The Flying Yankee; or, Tur OCEAN Ovrcasr. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, & Soth dones; or, TRE CaPTivES OF THE Frontier. By Edward 8S. Ellis, 9g The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen, Nat Todd; or, Tat Fate or THE Sioux Captive. A Sequel to * Bill Biddon, Trapper.” By Edward §. Ellis. 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, Tr | Fortunes oF A Bowery Giri. By Albert | W. Aiken, author of ‘‘ The Spotter Detective,” etc. ROBINSON cRrusOE.—No. 16. Diamond Dirk: or, Tot Mystery OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of ‘‘The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THe Pirate’s DaveuTer. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Ol Coomes, QR Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or. DEADWoop Dick in Diseuise. By Edward L. Wheeler QD The Dumb Page; or, Tue Docr’s Daverter. By Capt. Frederick Whit- | taker, author of ‘‘The Wild-Horse Hunters,” etc. Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE RecKLEsS RanGER. By Harry St. George. 3 Keen-Knife, Tur Prince or THE Prairies, By Ol] Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, THE Giri Drap-Svor. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘ Deadwood Dick,” éte., ete. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE 7 Rep Pirates or tae.Carmpers, By Samuel W. Pierce, author of ‘The Boy Detective,” ete., etc. 34. Oregon Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLES’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams, Ready March 19th. THE OCEAN BLOODHOUND.—No. 33. Every one of them “Live” Stories by ** Live” Authors, a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME, LIBRARY. Each number ANTELOPE ABE.—No. 27. 3 Wild Ivan, Tuer Boy CLaupE DuvAL: or, THe BrRoTHERHOOD OF DeratTH. Dead- wood Dick Romance No. 4. By Edward L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN oF THE ARENA. By Frank S§. Finn. 3 Ae The Hidden Lodge; or, THE LitTLze HUNTER OF THE ADIRONDACKS, By T, C. Harbaugh, author of ‘‘ Nick o’ the Night,” etc. 38 Ned Wylde, Tur Boy Scout. Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, the Detective; or. Lire AND LovE in New York. By Ed- word L. Wheeler, Ready 4 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American who wanted to see the world. By John J. Marshall. Teady Al Lasso Jack, THE YOUNG MUSTANG- ER. By Oll Coomes. Ready May 7th. By A new issue every week. The Halt-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. icra “eh WILD IVAN.—Na, 85.