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Said they who brought me into this kind world.
I loved and so was ready to brave all.
Not so the hero of my one romance;
His face grew pallid, and his speech confused;
He kissed me hastily-said he'd return
To claim me. How think you, coz, he claimed me?
He wrote a cold, brief note, in which he said
That he was far too proud a man to wed

In opposition to my family.

His grief had forced him to the Continent;
He hoped I might be happy, and then signed
Himself "sincerely" mine, etc.

None born with strong physiques e'er died of love;
I did not even faint or go to bed

Raving with fever as girls do in books;

I sent back that man's note without remark;
Assured my parents their will should be mine;
Was taken to their arms, and soon betrothed
To the old lord whose name I've so long borne.
He, to reward me for my sacrifice,
Died after our most placid honeymoon,
Leaving me mistress of his large estates.
One day, 'mid Roman ruins, I came upon
The man I once adored. He dared to speak;
Begged me to take him to my heart again,
Now that death had broken down the barriers.
I lashed the craven creature with my tongue,
And sent him cringing from me.

"Never more

Let me behold your face!" were my last words;
Full well have they been heeded. Then I came
Back to my native land, took up the game
Society demanded I should play.
I'm pointed out as fortune's favorite-
Perhaps I am!

Come, cousin, dry your tears!
Your wound's skin deep-mine penetrated far
And yet I'm not what people call a wreck.
You'll have no appetite; you'll lie awake;
You'll sigh, and sadly smile at merry jests.
This will endure for possibly a month,
During which time I promise to disclose
The true proportions of the demigod
You've worshiped at the altar of your dreams.
Then look up while I bathe
Your eyes in cooling spray. Now you are like
Your dear old self.

I'm hungry. Let us dine.
-Appleton's Journal.

THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY.*

"Ay, ay, sir; they're smart seamen enough, no doubt, them Dalmatians, and reason good, too, seein' they man half the Austrian navy; but they're not got the seasonin' of an Englishman, put it how yer will!”

I was standing on the upper deck of the Austrian Lloyd steamer, looking my last upon pyramidal Jaffa, as it rises up in terrace after terrace of stern gray masonry against the lustrous evening sky, with the foam-tipped breakers at its feet. Beside me, with his elbow on the hand-rail, and his short pipe between his teeth, lounged the stalwart chief-engineer, as thorough an Englishman as though he had not spent twothirds of his life abroad. He delighted to get hold of a listener, who-as he phrased it--" has been about a bit."

"No; they ain't got an Englishman's seasonin'," he continues, pursuing his criticism of the Dalmatian seamen; "and what's more, they ain't got an Englishman's pluck neither, not when it comes to a real scrape."

"Can no one but an Englishman have any pluck, then ?" asked I, laughing.

"Well, I won't just go for to say that; o' course a man as is a man 'ull have pluck in him all the world over. I've seed a Frencher tackle a shark to save his messmate; and I've seed a Rooshan stand to his gun arter every man in the battery, barrin' himself, had been blowed all to smash. But, if yer come to that, the pluckiest fellow as ever I seed warn't a man at all!"

"What was he, then? a woman?"

"No, nor that neither; though, mark ye, I don't go for to gay as how women ain't got pluck enough too-some on 'em at least. My old 'ooman, now, saved me once from a lubber of a Portigee as was just a-goin' to stick a knife into me, when she cracked his nut with a handspike. (You can hear her spin the yarn yourself, if you likes to pay us a visit when we get to Constantinople.) But this un as I'm a talkin' on was a little lad not much bigger'n Tom Thumb, only with a spirit of his own as ud ha' blowed up a man-o'-war a'most. Would ye like to hear about it?"

The same story is told in verse in No. 13, page 68, entitled "The Little Hero."

I eagerly assent; and the narrator, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, folds his brawny arms upon the top of the rail, and commences as follows;

"'Bout three years ago, afore I got this berth as I'm in now, I was second-engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer bound for New York. There'd been a lot of extra cargo sent down just at the last minute, and we'd had no end of a job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin'; so that, altogether, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the sweetest temper in the world, nor the mate neither; as for the chief-engineer, he was an easy-goin' sort of a chap, as nothing on earth could put out. But on the mornin' of the third day out from Liverpool, he cum down to me in a precious hurry, lookin' as if somethin' had put him out pretty considerably.

"Tom,' says he, 'what d'ye think? Blest if we ain't found a stow-away.' (That's the name you know, sir, as we gives to chaps as hide theirselves aboard outward-bound vessels, and gets carried out unbeknown to everybody.)

“‘The dickens you have?' says I. 'Who is he, and where did yer find him?

"Well, we found him stowed away among the casks for'ard; and ten to one we'd never ha' twigged him at all, if the skipper's dog hadn't sniffed him out and begun barkin'. Sich a little mite as he is, too! I could ha' most put him in my baccy-pouch, poor little beggar! but he looks to be a good-plucked un for all that.'

"I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a skyrocket: and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. Every man-Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we had aboard, was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the middle was the fust-mate, lookin' as black as thunder. Right in front of him, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten-year old-ragged as a scare crow, but with bright, curly hair, and a bonnie little face o his own, if it hadn't been so woful thin and pale. But, bless yer soul! to see the way that little chap held his head up, and looked about him, you'd ha' thought the whole ship belonged to him. The mate was a great hulkin' black-bearded feller with a look that 'ud ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump through a key-hole; but the young un

warn't a bit afeard--he stood straight up, and looked him full in the face with them bright, clear eyes o' his'n, for all the world as if he was Prince Halferd himself. Folk did say arterwards"-lowering his voice to a whisper-" as how he comed o' better blood nor what he seemed; and, for my p I'm rayther o' that way o' thinkin' myself; for I never y seed a common street-Harab-as they calls them now-cry it off like him. You might ha' heerd a pin drop, as the mate spoke.

"Well, you young whelp,' says he, in his grimmest voice, 'what's brought you here?"

"It was my step-father as done it,' says the boy, in a weak little voice, but as steady as could be. 'Father's dead, and mother's married again, and my new father says as how he won't have no brats about eatin' up his wages; and he stowed me away when nobody warn't lookin', and guv me some grub to keep me goin' for a day or two till I got to sea. He says I'm to go to Aunt Jane, at Halifax; and here's her address.' And with that, he slips his hand into the breast of his shirt, and out with a scrap o' paper, awful dirty and crumpled up, but with the address on it, right enough.

"We all believed every word on't, even without the paper; for his look, and his voice, and the way he spoke, was enough to show that there warn't a ha'porth o' lyin' in his whole skin. But the mate didn't seem to swallow the yarn at all; he only shrugged his shoulders with a kind o' grin, as much as to say, 'I'm too old a bird to be caught by that kind o' chaff;' and then he says to him, 'Look here, my lad; that's all very fine, but it won't do here-some o' these men o' mine are in the secret, and I mean to have it out of 'em. Now, you just point out the man as stowed you away and fed you, this very minute; if you doan't, it'll be the worse for you!'

"The boy looked up in his bright, fearless way (it did my heart good to look at him, the brave little chap!) and says, quietly, 'I've told you the truth; I ain't got no more to say.'

"The mate says nothin', but looks at him for a minute as if he'd see clean through him; and then he faced round to the men, lookin' blacker than ever. 'Reeve a rope to the yard!' he sings out loud enough to raise the dead; 'smart now!'

"The men all looked at each other, as much as to say, 'What on earth's a-comin' now?-But aboard ship, o' course when you're told to do a thing, you've got to do it; so the rope was rove in a jiffy.

666

Now, my lad,' says the mate in a hard, square kind o' voice, that made every word seem like fittin' a stone into a wall, 'you see that 'ere rope? Well, I'll give you ten minutes to confess; and if you don't tell the truth afore the time's up, I'll hang you like a dog!'

"The crew all stared at one another as if they couldn't believe their ears, (I didn't believe mine, I can tell ye,) and then a low growl went among 'em, like a wild beast awakin' out of a nap.

"Silence there!' shouts the mate, in a voice like the roar of a nor'easter. 'Stand by to run for'ard!' as he held the noose ready to put it round the boy's neck. The little feller never flinched a bit; but there was some among the sailors (big strong chaps as could ha' felled an ox) as shook like leaves in the wind. As for me, I bethought myself o' my little curly-haired lad at home, and how it 'ud be if any one was to go for to hang him; and at the very thought on't I tingled all over, and my fingers clinched theirselves as if they was a-grippin' somebody's throat. I clutched hold o' a handspike, and held it behind my back, all ready.

""Tom,' whispers the chief-engineer to me, 'd'ye think he really means to do it?'

"I don't know,' says I, through my teeth; 'but if he does, he shall go first, if I swings for it!'

“I've been in many an ugly scrape in my time, but I never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed as long as a dozen; and the tick o' the mate's watch, reg'lar, pricked my ears like a pin. The men were very quiet, but there was a precious ugly look on some o' their faces; and I noticed that three or four on 'em kep' edgin' for'ard to where the mate was, in a way that meant mischief. As for me, I'd made up my mind that if he did go for to hang the poor little chap, I'd kill him on the spot, and take my chance.

44.

Eight minutes,' says the mate, his great deep voice breakin' in upon the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. ‘If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out with it, for ye're time 's nearly up.'

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