They heave the log every two hours,—that is, twelve times for every twenty-four hours,—and from the reports which the captain receives of the results of those trials, it is easy for him to calculate how far the ship has come during the whole period. As he knows, too, exactly how far the pilot has been steering by the compass all this time, he has both the direction in which the ship has been sailing, and the distance to which she has come; and, of course, from these data he can calculate where she must now be. This mode of determining the ship's place is called by the reckoning. The other is called by observation.

The intelligent and reflecting boy who has carefully read and understood the preceding explanations will perceive that the two operations which we have been describing are in some sense the reverse of each other. By the former, the navigator ascertains by his measurements where the ship actually is to-day, and then calculates from that how far, and in what direction, she has come since yesterday. Whereas, by the latter method, his measurements determine directly how far, and in what direction, the ship has come; and then he calculates from these where she now is. Each method has its advantages. The former, that by observation, is the most sure and exact; but then it is not always practicable, for it may be cloudy. On the other hand, the latter—that is, by the reckoning—never fails, for the log can always be thrown, be the weather what it may; but it cannot be fully relied upon, on account of the currents in the water and the drifting of the vessel. Consequently, on board all ships they keep the reckoning regularly every day. Then, if they get a good observation, they rely upon that. If they do not, they go by the reckoning.

We now return to the story. And here, I suppose, is the place where those sagacious children, who, when they are reading a book in which entertainment and instruction are combined, always skip all the instruction, and read only the story, will begin to read again, after having turned over the leaves of this chapter thus far, seeing they contain only explanations of the mode of navigating a ship, and saying nothing about Hilbert and Rollo. Now, before going any farther, I wish to warn all such readers, that they will not be able to comprehend at all clearly the complicated difficulties which Hilbert and the others got into in respect to the lottery without understanding all that has been explained in the preceding pages of this chapter. I advise them, therefore, if they have skipped any of it, to go back and read it all, and to read it slowly too, and with the utmost attention. And I advise them, moreover, if they do not perfectly understand it all, to ask some older person to read it over with them and explain it to them. If they are not willing to do this, but insist on skipping the first part of the chapter, I advise them to make complete work of it, and skip the last half too; for they certainly will not understand it.

When Hilbert went back to the paddle box with his half sovereign, it was about eleven o'clock. The observation was to be made at twelve; and the results, both in respect to the observation and the reckoning, were to be calculated immediately afterward. The lottery which the men were making related to the number of miles which the ship would have made during the twenty-four hours. The men were just making up the list of subscribers to the tickets when Hilbert went up to them. He gave his half sovereign to the man who had the list. This man whom they called the Colonel, took the money, saying, "That's right, my lad," and put it in a little leather purse with the other half sovereigns.

"What's your name, Bob?" said he.

"Livingston," said Hilbert.

"Bobby Livingston," said the Colonel, writing down the name on his list.

"No," said Hilbert, contemptuously, "not Bobby Livingston. Hilbert Livingston."

"O, never mind," said the Colonel; "it's all the same thing. Bobby means boy."

The plan of the lottery was this: It was generally supposed that the ship's run would be about 270 miles; and it was considered quite certain, as has already been stated, that it would not be more than 280, nor less than 260. So they made twenty tickets, by cutting five of the Colonel's visiting cards into quarters, which tickets were to represent all the numbers from 261 to 280, inclusive. They wrote the numbers upon these cards, omitting, however, the first figure, namely, the 2, in order to save time; for as that figure came in all the numbers, it was considered unnecessary to write it. When the numbers were written thus upon the cards, the cards themselves were all put into a cap[B] and shaken up, and then every one who had paid a half sovereign drew out one, the colonel holding the hat up high all the time, so that no one could see which number he drew. This operation was performed in the midst of jokes and gibes and loud shouts of laughter, which made the whole scene a very merry one. When Hilbert came to draw, the merriment was redoubled. Some called on the Colonel to hold down the cap lower, so that Bob could reach it. Others said that he was sure to get the lucky number, and that there was no chance at all for the rest of them. Others, still, were asking him what he would take for his ticket, or for half of it, quarter of it, and so on. Hilbert was half pleased and half ashamed at being the object of so much coarse notoriety; while Rollo, who had drawn up toward the place, and was looking on from a safe distance as the proceedings that were going on, was very glad that he was not in Hilbert's place.

[Footnote B: Gentlemen always wear caps on board ship. Hats are in the way, and would, moreover, be in danger of being blown off by the wind; in which case, as they would go overboard at once, there would be no possibility of recovering them.]

The ticket that Hilbert drew was marked 67. It denoted, of course, the number 267; and that, being pretty near to the number of miles which it was thought the ship would probably make, was considered quite a valuable ticket. The owners of the several tickets, as soon as the drawing was completed, began to compare them and talk about them, and to propose bargains to one another for buying and selling them, or exchanging them. In these negotiations each man was endeavoring to outwit and circumvent his friend, in hopes of buying his ticket for a moderate sum, and drawing the whole prize with it. Others were engaged in betting on particular tickets. These bets, when they were made, they recorded in little memorandum books kept for the purpose. In fact, a very noisy and tumultuous scene of bargaining, and betting, and barter ensued.

Hilbert was very much pleased with his ticket. He went to show it to Rollo. He said he verily believed that he had got the exact ticket to draw the prize. He did not think the ship would go quite 270 miles.

"And if she does not," said he, "and should happen to go only 267 miles, then I shall have ten pounds; and that is almost fifty dollars."

So saying, Hilbert began to caper about the deck in the exuberance of his joy.

His antics were, however, suddenly interrupted by the Colonel, who just then came up to him and asked to see his ticket. Hilbert held it up so that the Colonel could see the number upon it.

"Sixty-seven," said the Colonel. "That is not worth much. Nobody thinks she'll go less than 270. However," he added, in a careless tone, "I'll give you twelve shillings for it. That is two shillings over what you paid for it—nearly half a dollar.[C] You'd better make sure of half a dollar than run the risk of losing every thing on such a poor ticket as that."

[Footnote C: The Colonel meant English shillings, which are twenty-four cents each in value.]

"Would you?" said Hilbert, turning to Rollo.

"I don't know," replied Rollo, shaking his head. "I don't know any thing about it."

"No," said Hilbert, turning to the Colonel again; "I believe I will keep my ticket, and take my chance."

The Colonel said, "Very well; just as you please;" and then went away. Hilbert had, after this, several other offers, all which he declined; and in about a quarter of an hour the Colonel met him again, as if accidentally, and began to talk about his ticket. He said that all the tickets under 270 were selling at a low price, as almost every body believed that the ship's run would be more than that; but still, he said, he would give a pound for Hilbert's ticket, if he wished to sell it. "Thus," said he, "you'll get back the half sovereign you paid, and another half sovereign besides, and make sure of it."

But the more the people seemed to wish to buy Hilbert's ticket, the less inclined he was to part with it. So he refused the Colonel's offer, and put the card safely away in his wallet. In one sense he was right in refusing to sell his chance; for as the whole business of making such a lottery, and buying and selling the tickets afterward, and betting on the result, is wrong, the less one does about it the better. Every new transaction arising of it is a new sin. It could easily be shown, by reasoning on the philosophy of the thing, why it is wrong, if there were time and space for it here. But this is not necessary, as every man has a feeling in his own conscience that there is a wrong in such transactions. It is only bad characters, in general, that seek such amusements. When others adventure in them a little, they make apologies for it. They say they are not in the habit of betting, or of venturing in lotteries, or that they don't approve of it—but will do it this once. Then, when people lose their money, the chagrin which they feel is always deepened and imbittered by remorse and self-condemnation; while the pleasure which those feel who gain is greatly marred by a sort of guilty feeling, which they cannot shake off, at having taken the money of their friends and companions by such means. All these indications, and many others which might be pointed out, show that there is a deep-seated and permanent instinct in the human heart which condemns such things; and nobody can engage in them without doing violence to this instinct, and thus committing a known wrong.

In regard to most of the men who were engaged in the lottery, they had so often done such things before that their consciences had become pretty well seared and hardened. There was one man, however, who decided to take a ticket against considerable opposition that was made to it by the moral sentiments of his heart. This was Maria's brother. He had been confined to his berth most of the voyage, but was now better; and he had been walking up and down the deck with a friend. He looked pale and dejected, however, and seemed still quite feeble.

His friend, whom he called Charles, seeing that they were going on with a lottery near the paddle boxes, proposed that they should both go and buy tickets.

"Come," said he, "Chauncy, that will amuse you."

"O, no," said Mr. Chauncy.

"Yes, come," said Charles. "Besides, we ought to do our part to assist in entertaining one another."

So saying, Charles led Mr. Chauncy along, and partly by persuasion, and partly by a little gentle force, he made him take out his purse and produce a half sovereign, too. He also subscribed himself, and then drew both the tickets. He gave one of them to Mr. Chauncy, and the other he kept himself; and then the two friends walked away. Mr. Chauncy's ticket was 66, the number immediately below that which Hilbert had drawn.

Mr. Chauncy, being now tired of walking, went to sit down upon one of the settees next to where Hilbert and Rollo had just gone to take a seat. Mr. Chauncy was next to Hilbert. He immediately began to talk with Hilbert about the lottery.

"Have you got a ticket in this lottery?" he asked.

"Yes," said Hilbert; "mine is 267. What is yours?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Chauncy; "I did not observe." As he said this, however, he took his ticket out of his pocket, and said, reading it, "Ninety-nine."

He was holding it wrong side upward, and so it read 99.

"Ho!" said Hilbert, "that will not get the prize. We shall not go 299 miles. I would not exchange mine for yours on any account."

"No," said Mr. Chauncy, "nor would I exchange mine for yours."

"Why?" said Hilbert. "Do you think there is any chance of the ship's making 299?"

"No," replied Mr. Chauncy; "and that is the very reason I like my ticket. If I had yours, I should be afraid I might get the prize."

"Afraid?" repeated Hilbert.

"Yes," said Mr. Chauncy.

"Why should you be afraid?" asked Hilbert, much surprised.

"Because," said Mr. Chauncy, "I should not know what to do with the money. I would not put it in my purse; for I don't let any thing go in there but honest money. I don't know who I could give it to. Besides, I should not like to ask any body to take what I should be ashamed to keep myself. I should really be in a very awkward situation."

As he said this, Mr. Chauncy held his ticket between his thumb and finger, and looked at the number. Neither he nor Hilbert suspected for a moment that there was any mistake in reading it; for, not having paid any attention to the scheme, as it is called, of the lottery, they did not know how high the numbers went.

"There is a possibility that I may get it, after all," said Mr. Chauncy at length, musing. "We have had fine weather, and have been coming on fast. The best thing for me to do is to get rid of the ticket. Have you got a ticket, Rollo?" said he, turning to Rollo.

"No, sir," said Rollo.

"I have a great mind to give it to you, then."

"No, sir," said Rollo; "I would rather not have it."

"That is right," said Mr. Chauncy. "I like you the better for that. I know what I will do with it. Do you remember an Irishwoman that you see sitting on the forward deck sometimes with her two children?"

"Yes," said Rollo; "she is there now."

"Very well," said Mr. Chauncy; "carry this to her, and tell her it is a ticket in a lottery, and it may possibly draw a prize. Have you any conscientious scruples about doing that?"

"No, sir," said Rollo.

"Then take the ticket and go," added Mr. Chauncy. "Tell her she had better sell the ticket for two shillings, if she gets a chance. There may be somebody among the gamblers that will buy it."

So Rollo took the ticket and carried it to the Irishwoman. She was a woman who was returning to Ireland as a deck passenger. She was quite poor. When Rollo tendered her the ticket, she was, at first, much surprised. Rollo explained the case fully to her, and concluded by repeating Mr. Chauncy's advice—that she should sell the ticket, if she could get a chance to sell it for as much as two shillings. The woman, having been at sea before, understood something about such lotteries, and seemed to be quite pleased to get a ticket. She asked Rollo to tell such gentlemen as he might meet that she had 99 to sell for two shillings. This, however, Rollo did not like to do; and so he simply returned to the settee and reported to Mr. Chauncy that he had given the woman the ticket and delivered the message.

Mr. Chauncy said he was very much obliged to him; and then, rising from his seat, he walked slowly away, and descended into the cabin.



CHAPTER X.

THE END OF THE LOTTERY.

In almost all cases of betting and lotteries, the operation of the system is, that certain persons, called the knowing ones, contrive to manage the business in such a way, by secret manoeuvres and intrigues, as to make the result turn out to their advantage, at the expense of those parties concerned who are ignorant and inexperienced, or, as they term it, "green." Very deep plans were laid for accomplishing this object in respect to the lottery described in the last chapter; though, as it happened in this case, they were fortunately frustrated.

The principal of these manoeuvres were the work of the man whom they called the Colonel. He had formed the plan, with another man, of secretly watching the operation of heaving the log every time it was performed, and making a note of the result. By doing this, he thought he could calculate very nearly how many miles the ship would make, while all the other passengers would have nothing to guide them but such general estimates as they could make from recollection. He accordingly arranged it with his confederates that one or the other of them should be on deck whenever the men were called to heave the log, and, without appearing to pay any particular attention to the operation, carefully to obtain the result, and make a memorandum of it. This plan was sufficient for the daytime. For the night—inasmuch as it might excite suspicion for them to be up at unseasonable hours to watch the operation—they resorted to another method. They bribed one of the seamen of each watch to find out the result of each trial during his watch, and to give them the answers in the morning. When the last time for heaving the log, previous to making up the accounts for the day, came, which was at ten o'clock, they took that result, and then, shutting themselves up in their state room, they made a calculation, and ascertained pretty certainly, as they thought, that the distance would be about 267 miles. It might possibly be 266, or 268; but they thought that they were sure that it would be one of those three numbers. The next thing was to circulate statements, and to express opinions in private conversation here and there among the passengers, in a careless sort of way, to produce a general impression that the rate of the ship would be not less than 270 miles. This was to lead the owners of the tickets, and the betters generally, not to attach a high value to the numbers below 270. By doing this, they expected to depress the value of these tickets in the general estimation, so that they could buy then easily. They calculated that, if their plans succeeded, they could buy 266, 267, and 268 for about a sovereign apiece—the holders of them being made to suppose, by their manoeuvres that those numbers would have very little chance of obtaining the prize.

The plan was very deeply laid, and very skilfully executed; and the men were so far successful in their efforts that they did produce a general impression that the ship's run could not be below 270. They also bought ticket 268, though they had to give two sovereigns for it. It has already been shown how their attempts to get possession of 267 failed, by Hilbert's refusal to sell it. They of course also failed to get 266, for that ticket was not to be found. They could not make any very open and public inquiries for it, as it was necessary that every thing which they did should be performed in a very unconcerned and careless manner. They, however, made repeated inquiries privately for this ticket but could not get any tidings of it. A certain sailor told some of the betters that an Irishwoman on the forward deck had a ticket which she offered to sell for two shillings; but when, on being asked what the number was, he answered 99, they laughed at him, supposing that somebody had been putting a hoax upon the poor Irishwoman, as there was no such number as that in the lottery.

Besides the manoeuvres of these two confederates, there was another man who was devising a cunning scheme for obtaining the prize. This was the mate of a merchant ship that had put into the port of New York in a damaged condition, and had there been sold. The mate, being thus left without a vessel, was now returning as a passenger in the steamer, to Scotland, where he belonged.

This man was accustomed to navigation; and he had the necessary books for making the computations in his trunk. He conceived the idea of being present on deck at twelve o'clock, when the captain made his observation, and of learning from him, as it were accidentally, what the sun's altitude was observed to be. This he could very easily do, for it was customary to have the observation made not only by the captain, but by one or two of the chief officers of the ship also, at the same time, who are all always provided with sextants for the purpose. The results, when obtained, are compared together, to see if they agree—each observer telling the others what altitude he obtains. Thus they are more sure of getting the result correctly. Besides, it is important that these officers should have practice, so that they may be able to take the observation when the captain is sick, or when they come to command ships themselves.

Now, the mate above referred to thought that, by standing near the captain and his officers when they made the observations, he could overhear them in comparing their results, and then that he could go down into his state room immediately; and that there, by working very diligently, he could ascertain the run of the ship before it should be reported on the captain's bulletin, and so know beforehand what ticket would gain the prize. Or, if he could not determine absolutely what the precise ticket would be,—since his computation might not agree precisely with that made by the captain,—he could determine within two or three of the right one, and then buy three tickets—that is, the one which agreed with his calculation, and also the one above and below it—for perhaps a sovereign or so apiece: he would thus get the ten sovereigns by an expenditure of three or four. His plan, in fact, was similar to that of the Colonel; only his estimate was to be based on the observation, while that of the Colonel was based on the dead reckoning. They both performed their computations in a very skilful manner, and they came to nearly the same result. The mate came to the conclusion that the run of the ship would be 266 miles; while the Colonel, as has already been stated, made it 267. While, therefore, the Colonel, to make sure of the prize, wished to buy tickets 266, 267, and 268, the mate wished to secure 265, 266, and 267. The mate, after making some inquiry, found who had 265; and, after some bargaining, succeeded in buying it for two sovereigns and a half. But he could not hear any thing of 266. As for 267, he discovered that Hilbert had it, just as the bell rang for luncheon. He told Hilbert that if he wished to sell his ticket he would give him thirty shillings for it, which is a sovereign and a half. But Hilbert said no.

It is, however, time that this story of the lottery should draw to a close; were it not so, a great deal more detail might have been given of the manoeuvres and contrivances which both the Colonel and the mate resorted to, to induce Hilbert to sell his ticket. These efforts attracted no special attention, for all the others were buying and selling tickets continually, and making offers for those which they could not buy. Some were put up at auction, and sold to the highest bidder, amid jokes, and gibes, and continual shouts of laughter.

At length, when the time drew nigh for the captain's bulletin to appear, the mate offered Hilbert three pounds for his ticket, and Hilbert went and asked his father's advice about accepting this offer. His father hesitated for some time, but finally advised him not to sell his ticket at all. Hilbert was satisfied with this advice, for he now began to be quite sure that he should get the prize.

At length, about fifteen minutes after the party had come up from luncheon, and were all assembled around the paddle-box settee, a gentleman came up one of stairways with a slip of paper in his hands, and, advancing to the group, he attempted to still the noise they were making, by saying,—

"Order, gentlemen, order! I've got the bulletin."

Every body's attention was arrested by these words, and all began to call out "Order!" and "Silence!" until at length something like quiet was restored. The persons assembled were all very much interested in learning the result; for, in addition to the prize of the lottery, there were a great many bets, some of them quite large, pending, all of which were to be decided by the bulletin.

When, at length, the gentleman found that he could be heard, he began to read in a very deliberate voice,—

"Latitude forty-eight, thirty-one."

"Never mind the latitude," exclaimed the company. "The distance. Let's have the distance."

"Longitude," continued the reader, "ten, fourteen."

"Nonsense!" said the company. "What's the distance?"

"Distance," continued the reader, in the same tone, "two hundred and sixty-six."

"Sixty-six!" they all exclaimed together; and great inquiries were immediately made for the missing ticket. But nobody knew any thing about it. At last, Mr. Chauncy's companion, Charles, who happened to be there, said,—

"Why, Chauncy had 66, I believe." Then calling out aloud to Mr. Chauncy, who had come up on the deck after luncheon, and was now sitting on one of the settees that stood around the skylight, he added,—

"Chauncy! here! come here! Where is your ticket? You have got the prize."

"No," said Mr. Chauncy, in a careless tone, without, however, moving from his seat. "I have not any ticket."

Two or three of the gentlemen, then, headed by Charles, went to the place where Mr. Chauncy was sitting, to question him more particularly.

"Where's your ticket?" said Charles.

"I gave it to one of the deck passengers," said Mr. Chauncy.

"You did!" said Charles. "Well, it has drawn the prize. What was the number of it?"

"Ninety-nine, I believe," said Mr. Chauncy.

"Ninety-nine!" repeated Charles, contemptuously. "Nonsense! There was no ninety-nine. It was sixty-six."

Then, shouting with laughter, he said, "O, dear me! that's so exactly like Chauncy. He gives half a sovereign for a ticket, then reads it upside down, and gives it away to an Irishwoman. O Gemini!"

So saying, Charles, and those with him, went away, laughing vociferously at Chauncy's expense.

The remainder of the adventurers in the lottery had in the mean time dispersed, having slunk away, as is usual in such cases, to conceal their mortification and chagrin. It was not merely that they had each lost a half sovereign; but they had all calculated, with greater or less certainty, on getting the prize; and the vexation which they experienced at the disappointment was extreme. Some of them had bought up several tickets, in order to make sure of the prize. These were, of course, doubly and trebly chagrined. Some had been offered good prices for their tickets, but had refused to accept them, hoping, by keeping the tickets, to get the prize. These persons were now vexed and angry with themselves for not accepting these offers. Then there was a feeling of guilt and condemnation which mingled with their disappointment, and made it very bitter and hard to bear.

The Colonel and the mate, when they learned that the Irishwoman held the winning ticket, both immediately began to saunter slowly along toward the stairways that led down to the forward deck, each having formed the plan of going and buying the ticket of the woman before she should hear that it had gained the prize. They moved along with a careless and unconcerned air, in order not to awaken any suspicion of their designs. They were suspected, however, both of them, by Mr. Chauncy. He accordingly walked forward, too; and he reached a part of the promenade deck that was near the smoke pipe, where he could look down upon the place where the woman was sitting. He reached the spot just as the two men came before her, one having descended by one staircase, and the other by the other. When they met each other, close before where the woman was sitting, they each understood in an instant for what purpose the other had come. They knew, too, that it would defeat the object altogether if they both attempted to buy the ticket; and yet there was no time or opportunity to make any formal stipulation on the subject between them. Such men, however, are always very quick and cunning, and ready for all emergencies. The mate, without speaking to the woman, gave a wink to the Colonel, and said in an undertone, as he sauntered slowly along by him,—

"Colonel! half!"

"Done!" said the Colonel.

So the mate passed carelessly on, leaving the Colonel to manage the negotiation, with the understanding that they were to share the profits of the transaction between them.

Just at this moment, Mr. Chauncy, who was looking down upon this scene from above, called out to the woman,—

"My good woman, your ticket has drawn the prize. The Colonel has come to pay you the money."

The Colonel was overwhelmed with astonishment and vexation at this interruption. He looked up, with a countenance full of rage, to see from whom the sound proceeded. There were one or two other gentlemen standing with Chauncy as witnesses of the scene; and the Colonel saw at once that his scheme was defeated. So he made a virtue of necessity, and, taking out the purse, he poured the ten sovereigns into the poor woman's lap. She was overwhelmed and bewildered with astonishment at finding herself suddenly in possession of so much money.

As for Hilbert, there were no bounds to the vexation and anger which he experienced in the failure of all his hopes and expectations.

"What a miserable fool I was!" said he. "I might have had that very ticket. He as good as offered to exchange with me. Such a stupid dolt as I was, not to know when it was upside down! Then, besides, I was offered two pounds for my ticket, sure—and I believe I should have taken it, if my father had not advised me not to do it. That would have come to almost fifteen dollars, and that I should have been sure of. So much for taking my father's advice. I hope they'll get up another lottery to-morrow, and then I'll buy a ticket and do just as I please with it, and not take any body's advice. I shall be sure to make fifteen dollars, at least, if I don't do any better than I might have done to-day."

The rest of the company felt very much as Hilbert did about their losses and disappointments, though the etiquette of gambling, which they understood better than he, forbade their expressing their feelings so freely. In fact, one source of the illusion which surrounds this vice is, that the interest which it excites, and the hilarity and mirth which attend it during its progress, are all open to view, while the disappointment, the mortification, the chagrin, and the remorse are all studiously concealed. The remorse is the worst ingredient in the bitter cup. It not only stings and torments those who have lost, but it also spoils the pleasure of those who win. That is, in fact, always the nature and tendency of remorse. It aggravates all the pain and suffering that it mingles with and poisons all the pleasure.



CHAPTER XI.

THE ARRIVAL.

Day after day of the voyage thus glided away, the time being beguiled by the various incidents which occurred, until at length the ship began to draw near toward the land. As the time passed on, the interest which the passengers felt in their approach toward the land began to be very strong. Some of them were crossing the Atlantic for the first time; and they, of course, anticipated their first view of the shores of the old world with great anticipations of delight. The first land to be "made," as the sailors say, that is to be seen, was Cape Clear—the southern point of Ireland. There is a lighthouse on this point; and so well had the captain kept his reckoning, and so exact had been his calculations in his progress over the mighty waste of waters, that on the morning of the last day he could venture to predict to an hour when the light would come into view. He said it would be between nine and ten. When Maria and the two children went to their berths, Maria asked the chambermaid to come and tell them when the light was in sight. She accordingly did so. Rollo, in order to know how near the captain was in his calculations, asked her what o'clock it was. She said twenty-five minutes after eight. How astonishing must be the accuracy of the instruments and the calculations which can enable a man to guide a ship across so utterly trackless a waste, aiming at a lighthouse three thousand miles away, and not only come out exactly upon it, but come there, too, so exactly at the time predicted by the calculation!

When the children went on deck the next morning, the southern coast of Ireland was all in full view. Those who feel an interest in seeing the track of the ship, will find, by turning to a map of Great Britain and Ireland, that her course in going in from the Atlantic toward Liverpool lay at first along the southern coast of Ireland, and then along the western coast of Wales. This route, though it seems but a short distance on the map, requires really a voyage of several hundred miles, and more than a day in time, for the performance of it. The voyage of the ship is, therefore, by no means ended when she reaches the land at Cape Clear. There is still a day and a night more for the passengers to spend on board the vessel. The time is, however, very much beguiled during this last day's sail by the sight of the land and the various objects which it presents to view—the green slopes, the castle-covered hills, the cliffs, the lines of beach, with surf and breakers rolling in upon them; and sometimes, when the ship approaches nearer to the shore than usual, the pretty little cottages, covered with thatch, and adorned with gardens and shrubbery.

The children stood by the railing of the deck for some time after they came up from below, gazing at the shores, and admiring the various pictures of rural beauty which the scene presented to the eye. At length, becoming a little tired, they went and sat down upon one of the settees, where they could have a more comfortable position, and still enjoy a good view. Not long afterward, the captain, who had been walking up and down the deck for some time, came and sat down by them.

"Well, children," said he, "are you glad to get to the end of the voyage?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jennie. "I am glad to get safe off of the great sea."

"And I suppose that you must be very glad, sir," added Rollo, "to get to the end of your responsibility."

"Ah, but I have not got to the end of my responsibility yet, by any means," said the captain.

As he said this, he rose from his seat, and looked out very attentively forward for a minute or two. At length he seemed satisfied, and sat down again.

"Well, you have got through all the danger, at any rate," said Rollo, "now that we are inside the land."

"On the contrary," said the captain, "we are just coming into the danger. There is very little danger for a good ship, whether it is a sailing ship or a steamer, out in the open sea. It is only when she comes among the rocks, and shoals, and currents, and other dangers which thicken along the margin of the land, that she has much to fear. Ships are almost always cast away, when they are cast away at all, near or upon the land."

"Is that the way?" replied Rollo. "I thought they were cast away at sea. I am sure it looks a great deal safer here than it does out in the middle of the ocean."

"I suppose so, to your eyes," replied the captain. "But you will see, by reflecting on the subject, that it is, in fact, just the contrary. If a very violent storm comes up when the ship is out in the open sea, it can ordinarily do no harm, only to drive the ship off her course, or perhaps carry away some of her spars or sails. If there is no land in the way, she is in very little danger. But it is very different if a gale of wind comes up suddenly in such a place as this."

"And how is it here?" asked Rollo.

"Why, in the case of a good steamer like this," said the captain, "it makes no great difference here; for we go straight forward on our course, as long as we can see, let it blow as it will. But a sailing vessel would very probably not be able to stand against it, but would be driven off toward any rocks, or sand banks, or shores that might happen to be in the way."

"And so she would certainly be wrecked," said Rollo.

"No, not certainly," replied the captain. "As soon as they found that the water was shoaling, they would anchor."

"How do they know when the water is shoaling?" asked Rollo.

"By the lead," replied the captain. "Did you never sound with the lead and line?"

"No, sir," replied Rollo.

"Well, they have a lead, and a long line," rejoined the captain, "and they let the lead down to the bottom by means of the line, and so learn how deep the water is. The lead is round and long. It is about as large round, and about as long, as Jennie's arm, from her elbow to her wrist, and there is a small cavity in the lower end of it."

"What is that for?" asked Rollo.

"That is to bring up some of the sand, or mud, or gravel, or whatever it may be, that forms the bottom," replied the captain. "They put something into the hole, before they let the lead down, to make the sand or gravel stick. When they see the nature of the bottom in this way, it often helps them to determine where they are, in case it is a dark night, or a foggy day, and they have got lost. It is very easy to measure the depth of the sea in this way, where it is not over a few hundred fathoms."

"How much is a fathom?" asked Rollo.

"Six feet," replied the captain; "that is as far as a man can reach by stretching out both hands along a wall. If the water is only a few hundred fathoms deep," continued the captain, "we can sound; but if it is much deeper than that, it is very difficult to get the lead down."

"Why, I should think," said Rollo, "that the lead would go down to the bottom of itself, no matter how deep the water was."

"It would," said the captain, "were it not for the line. But the line has some buoyancy; and, besides, it makes a great deal of friction in being drawn through the water; so that, when the line begins to get very long, it becomes very difficult for the lead to get it down. As they let out the line from the ship, it goes more and more slowly, until at last it does not seem to move at all."

"Then the lead must be on the bottom," said Rollo.

"No, that is not certain," said the captain. "It may be only that the quantity of line that is out is sufficient to float the lead. Besides that, the currents in the water, which may set in different directions at different depths, carry the line off to one side and the other, so that it lies very crooked in the water, and the weight of the lead is not sufficient to straighten it."

"Then they ought to have a heavier lead, I should think," said Rollo.

"Yes," said the captain; "and for deep-sea soundings they do use very heavy sinkers. Sometimes they use cannon balls as heavy as a man can lift. Then they take great pains, too, to have a very light and small line. Still, with all these precautions, it is very difficult, after some miles of the line are run out, to tell when the shot reaches the bottom. In some of the deepest places in the sea, the line, when they attempt to sound, is all day running out. I knew one case where they threw the shot overboard in the morning, and the line continued to run out, though slower and slower, of course, all the time, until night. It changed its rate of running so gradually, that at last they could not tell whether it was running or not. It seemed to float idly in the water, sinking slowly all the time; and yet they could not tell whether it was drawn in by the drifting of the portion of the line already down, or by the weight of the shot. So they could not tell certainly whether they had reached bottom or not.

"There is another thing that is curious about it," added the captain; "and that is, that, when a line is let out to such a length, they can never get it back again."

"Why not?" asked Rollo.

"It is not strong enough," said the captain, "to bear the strain of drawing such an immense length out of the water. There is a very considerable degree of friction produced in drawing a line of any kind through the water; and when the line is some miles in length, and has, besides, a heavy ball at the end of it, the resistance becomes enormous. Whenever they attempt to draw up a sounding line of such a length, it always parts at a distance of a few hundred fathoms from the surface, so that only a small part of the line is ever recovered."

"I should not suppose it would be so hard to draw up the line," said Rollo. "I should have thought that it would come up very easily."

"No," said the captain. "If you draw even a whiplash through the water, you will find that it draws much harder than it does on the grass; and if a boy's kite were to fall upon a pond at a great distance from the shore, I don't think he could draw it in by the string. The string would break, on account of the friction of the string and of the kite in the water. Sometimes, in naval battles, when a ship is pretending to try to escape, in order to entice another ship to follow her, away from the rest of the fleet, they tow a rope behind, and this rope, dragging in the water, retards the ship, and prevents her from going very fast, notwithstanding that all the sails are set, and she seems to be sailing as fast as she can."

"That's a curious way of doing it," said Rollo; "isn't it, Jennie?"

Jennie thought that it was a very curious way indeed.

"There is no difficulty," said the captain, resuming his explanations, "in finding the depth of the sea in harbors and bays, or at any place near the shore; for in all such places it is usually much less than a hundred fathoms. So when in a dark night, or in a fog, the ship is driven by the wind in a direction where they know there is land, they sound often; and when they find that the water is shoal enough, they let go the anchor."

"And so the anchor holds them," said Jennie, "I suppose, and keeps them from going against the land."

"Yes," said the captain, "generally, but not always. Sometimes the bottom is of smooth rock, or of some other hard formation, which the flukes of the anchor cannot penetrate, and then the ship drifts on toward the land, dragging the anchor with her."

"And what do they do in that case?" asked Rollo.

"Very often there is nothing that they can do," said the captain, "except to let out more cable, cautiously, so as to give the anchor a better chance to catch in some cleft or crevice in the bottom. Sometimes it does catch in this manner, and then the ship is stopped, and, for a time, the people on board think they are safe."

"And are they safe?" asked Rollo.

"Perhaps so," replied the captain; "and yet there is still some danger. The anchor may have caught at a place where the cable passes over the edge of a sharp rock, which soon cuts it off, in consequence of the motion. Then the ship must go on shore.

"At other times," continued the captain, "the ground for the anchor is too soft, instead of being too hard; and the flukes, therefore, do not take a firm hold of it. Then the anchor will drag. Every sea that strikes the ship drives her a little in toward the shore, and she is, of course, in great danger."

The captain would, perhaps, have gone on still further in his conversation with the children, had it not happened that just at this time, on rising to look out forward, he saw a large ship, under full sail, coming down the channel. So he rose, and went up upon one of the paddle boxes, to see that a proper lookout was kept, to avoid a collision.

The seas which lie between England and Ireland are so wide, and they are so provided with lighthouses and buoys, that no pilot is necessary for the navigation of them; and the pilot boats, therefore, which contain the pilot who is to take the vessel into port, generally await the arrival of the ship off the month of the Mersey, at a place which the steamer reaches about twenty-four hours after making Cape Clear. When the steamer in which Rollo made his voyage arrived at this place, almost all the passengers came on deck to witness the operation of taking the pilot on board. There were ships and steamers to be seen on every side, proceeding in different directions—some going across to Ireland, some southwardly out to sea; and there were others, still, which were, like the steamer, bound in to Liverpool. Among these, there was a small vessel at a distance from the steamer, with a certain signal flying. This signal was to show that this boat was the one which contained the pilot whose turn it was to take the steamer in. The captain gave the proper orders to the helmsman, and the steamer gradually turned from her course, so as to approach the spot where the pilot boat was lying. As she came near, a little skiff was seen at the stern of the pilot boat, with men getting into it. In a moment more, the skiff pushed off and rowed toward the steamer. A sailor stood on a sort of platform abaft the wheel house to throw the men in the skiff a rope when they came near. The engine was stopped, and the monstrous steampipe commenced blowing off the steam, which, being now no longer employed to work the engine, it would be dangerous to keep pent up. The steam, in issuing from the pipe, produced a dense cloud of smoke and a terrific roaring.

In the mean time, the skiff approached the ship, and the men on board of it caught the rope thrown to them by the sailor on the platform. By this rope they were drawn up to the side of the ship at a place where there was a ladder; and then the pilot, leaving the skiff, clambered up and came on board. The men in the skiff then pushed off and turned to go back toward the pilot boat. The roaring of the steam suddenly ceased, the paddle wheels began again to revolve, and the ship recommenced her motion. The pilot went up upon the paddle box and gave orders to the helmsman how to steer, while the captain came down. His responsibility and care in respect to the navigation of the ship for that voyage was now over.

In fact, the passengers began to consider the voyage as ended. They all went to work packing up their trunks, adjusting their dress, changing their caps for hats, and making other preparations for the land.

As the time drew nigh for going on shore, Jennie began to feel some apprehension on the subject, inasmuch as, judging from all the formidable preparations which she saw going on around her, she inferred that landing in Liverpool from an Atlantic steamer must be a very different thing from going on shore at New York after a voyage down the Hudson. As for Rollo, his feelings were quite the reverse from Jennie's. He not only felt no solicitude on the subject, but he began to be quite ambitious of going ashore alone—that is, without any one to take charge of him.

"We shall get along, Jennie, very well indeed," said Rollo. "I asked one of the passengers about it. The custom-house officers will come and look into our trunks, to see if we have got any smuggled goods in them. They won't find any in ours, I can tell them. Then all I have got to do is, to ask one of the cabmen to take us in his cab, and carry us to a hotel."

"To what hotel?" asked Jennie.

"Why—I don't know," said Rollo, rather puzzled. "To the best hotel. I'll just tell him to the best hotel."

"Well," said Jennie, "and what then?"

"Well,—and then,"—said Rollo, looking a little perplexed again, and speaking rather doubtingly,—"then,—why, I suppose that father will send somebody there to find us."

Jennie was not convinced; but she had nothing more to say, and so she was silent.

Rollo's plan, however, of taking care of himself in the landing seemed not likely to be realized; for there were not less than three different arrangements made, on the evening of the arrival, for taking care of him. In the first place, his father and mother were at the Adelphi Hotel, in Liverpool, awaiting the arrival of the steamer, and intending to go on board as soon as the guns should announce her coming. In the second place, Mr. Chauncy, Maria's brother, said that they should go with him and Maria. He would take the children, he said, to a hotel, and then take immediate measures to find out where Mr. Holiday was. In the third place, the captain came to Rollo just after sunset, and made a similar proposal.

Rollo, not knowing any thing about his father's plan, accepted Mr. Chauncy's offer; and then, when the captain came, he thanked him for his kindness, but said that he was going with Mr. Chauncy and Maria.

"Then you will go in the night," said the captain; "for Mr. Chauncy is the bearer of despatches."

Rollo did not understand what the captain meant by this, though it was afterward explained to him. The explanation was this: Every steamer, besides the passengers, carries the mails. The mails, containing all the letters and papers that are passing between the two countries, are conveyed in a great number of canvas and leather bags, and sometimes in tin boxes; enough, often, to make several cartloads. Besides these mails, which contain the letters of private citizens, the government of the United States has always a bag full of letters and papers which are to be sent to the American minister in London, for his instruction. These letters and papers are called the government despatches. They are not sent with the mails, but are intrusted usually to some one of the passengers—a gentleman known to the government as faithful and trustworthy. This passenger is called the bearer of despatches.

Now, the steamers, when they arrive at Liverpool, cannot usually go directly up to the pier, because the water is not deep enough there, except at particular states of the tide. They accordingly have to anchor in the stream, at some distance from the shore. As soon as they anchor, whether it is by day or by night, a small steamer comes alongside to get the mails and the despatches; for they must be landed immediately, so as to proceed directly to London by the first train. The bearer of despatches, together with his family, or those whom he has directly under his charge, are, of course, allowed to go on shore in the small steamer with the despatch bag, but the rest of the passengers have to wait to have their trunks and baggage examined by the custom-house officers. If the vessel gets to Liverpool in the night, they have to wait until the next morning. This was what the captain meant by saying, that, if the children went on shore with Mr. Chauncy, they would go in the night; for he then expected to get to his anchoring ground so that the boat for the mails would come off to the ship at about half past twelve.

Accordingly, that evening, when bedtime came, Maria and the children did not go to bed, but they lay down upon the couches and in their berths, in their dayclothes, awaiting the summons which they expected to receive when the small steamer should come. In the mean time, the ship went on, sometimes going very slowly, and sometimes stopping altogether, in order to avoid a collision with some other vessel which was coming in her way. The night was foggy and dark, so that her progress, to be safe, was necessarily slow. At length, Maria and the children, tired of waiting and watching, all three fell asleep. They were, however, suddenly aroused from their slumbers about midnight by the chambermaid, who came into their state room and told them that Mr. Chauncy was ready.

They rose and hurried up on deck. Their trunks had been taken up before them. When they reached the deck, they found Mr. Chauncy there and the captain, and with them two or three rather rough-looking men, in shaggy coats, examining their trunks by the light of lanterns which they held in their hands. The examination was very slight. The men merely lifted up the things in the corners a little, and, finding that there appeared to be nothing but clothing in the trunks, they said, "All right!" and then shut them up again. All this time the steampipe of the little steamer alongside kept up such a deafening roar that it was almost impossible to hear what was said.

The way of descent to get down from the deck of the great steamer to the little one was very steep and intricate, and it seemed doubly so on account of the darkness and gloom of the night. In the first place, you had to climb up three or four steps to get to the top of the bulwarks; then to go down a long ladder, which landed you on the top of the paddle box of the steamer. From this paddle box you walked along a little way over what they called a bridge; and then there was another flight of stairs leading to the deck. As all these stairs, and also the sides of both the steamers, were painted black, and as the water looked black and gloomy too, the whole being only faintly illuminated by the lurid glare of the lanterns held by the men, the prospect was really very disheartening. Maria said, when she reached the top of the bulwark and looked down, that she should never dare to go down there in the world.

She was, however, a sensible girl, and as she knew very well that there could not be any real danger in such a case, she summoned all her resolution and went on. Men stood below, at the different landing-places, to help her, and her brother handed her down from above. Mr. Chauncy, as soon as he saw that she had safely descended, was going to attend to the children, but just at that instant he missed his despatch bag. He asked where it was. Some said they believed it had gone down the slide. There was a sort of slide by the side of the ladder, where the mails and trunks had been sent down. Some said it had gone down this slide; others did not know. So he directed the children to wait a moment while he went down to see. He accordingly descended the ladder, and began to look about in a hurried manner to see if he could find it. The men on board the steamer, in the mean while, were impatient to cut loose from the ship, the mail agent having called out to them to make haste, or they would be too late for the train. Accordingly, some of them stood by the ladder, ready to take it down; while others seized the ropes and prepared to cast them off at a moment's notice, as soon as they should hear that the despatch bag was found. They did not know that the children were at the top of the ladder, waiting to come on board; for it was so dark that nothing could be seen distinctly except where the lanterns were directly shining, and the noise made by the roaring of the steamer was so great that very little could be heard.

Mr. Chauncy found the despatch bag very soon in the after part of the vessel, where somebody had put it in a safe place. As soon as he saw it, he said, "Ah, here it is. All right!"

"All right! all right!" said the sailors around him, repeating his words in a loud tone, when they heard him say that the despatch bag was found. Mr. Chauncy immediately hurried back to go up the ladder to the children; but he was too late. On hearing the words "all right!" the men had immediately drawn down the ladder, and cast off the fastenings, so that, by the time that Mr. Chauncy reached the paddle box, the noise of the steampipe had suddenly stopped, the paddle wheels were beginning to revolve, and the little steamer was gliding rapidly away from the vast and towering mass under which it had been lying.

"The children!" exclaimed Mr. Chauncy, "the children!"

"Never mind," said the captain, in a very quiet tone. "It's too late now. I'll take care of them to-morrow morning."

The captain spoke in a manner as calm and unconcerned as if the children being left in this way was not a matter of the slightest consequence in the world. In fact, the commanders of these steamships, being accustomed to encounter continually all sorts of emergencies, difficulties, and dangers, get in the habit of taking every thing very coolly, which is, indeed, always the best way.

Then, turning to the children, he said,—

"It's all right, children. Go below and get into your berths again, and I will send you on shore to-morrow morning when the rest of the passengers go."

So Rollo and Jennie went below again. The chambermaid was surprised to see them coming back; and when she heard an explanation of the case, she advised them to undress themselves and go to bed regularly. This they did, and were soon fast asleep.

The next morning, very soon after sunrise, another steamer came off from the shore, bringing several custom-house officers to examine the passengers' baggage. By the time that this steamer had arrived, a great many of the passengers were up, and had their trunks ready on deck to be examined. Among the rest was Hilbert with his trunk, though his father and mother were not yet ready. Hilbert was very anxious to get on shore, and so he had got his trunk up, and was all ready on the deck half an hour before the steamer came.

When the tug[D] came alongside, Hilbert, who was looking down upon her from the promenade deck, observed a neatly-dressed looking man on board of it, who seemed to be looking at him very earnestly. This was Mr. Holiday's servant. His name was Alfred. When Mr. Holiday had gone to bed the night before, he had given Alfred orders that in case the steamer should come in in the night, or at a very early hour in the morning, before it would be safe for him, as an invalid, to go out, he, Alfred, was to go on board, find the children, and bring them on shore. Accordingly, when Alfred saw Hilbert, and observed that he was of about the same size as Rollo had been described to him to be, he supposed that it must be Rollo. Accordingly, as soon as the tug was made fast, he came up the ladder, and immediately made his way to the promenade deck, to the place where Hilbert was standing. As he approached Hilbert, he touched his hat, and then said, in a very respectful tone,—

[Footnote D: They often call these small steamers that ply about harbors tugs, from the fact that they are employed in towing vessels. Sometimes they are called tenders.]

"Beg pardon, sir. Is this Master Holiday?"

"Rollo, do you mean?" said Hilbert. "No. Rollo went ashore last night with the bearer of despatches."

Hilbert knew that this was the arrangement which had been made, and he supposed that it had been carried into effect.

Alfred, who was a very faithful and trustworthy man, and was accustomed to do every thing thoroughly, was not fully satisfied with this information, coming as it did from a boy; but he waited some little time, and made inquiries of other passengers. At last, one gentleman told him that he was sure that Rollo had gone on shore, for he saw him and his sister pass up out of the cabin when the mail tug came. He was sitting up in the cabin reading at the time. Alfred was satisfied with this explanation, and so he called a small boat which was alongside, and engaged the boatman to row him ashore.

Thus the second plan for taking care of Rollo and Jennie, in the landing, failed.

All this time Rollo and Jennie were both asleep—for the chambermaid, thinking that they must be tired from having been up so late the night before, concluded to let them sleep as long as possible. While they were sleeping, the waiters on board the ship were all employed in carrying up trunks, and boxes, and carpet bags, and bundles of canes and umbrellas, from all the state rooms, and spreading them about upon the decks, where the custom-house officers could examine them. The decks soon, of course, presented in every part very bustling and noisy scenes. Passengers were hurrying to and fro. Some were getting their baggage together for examination; some were unstrapping their trunks; and others, having unstrapped theirs, were now fumbling in their pockets, in great distress, to find the keys. It is always an awkward thing to lose a trunk key; but the most unfortunate of all possible times for meeting with this calamity is when a custom-house officer is standing by, waiting to examine what your trunk contains. Those who could not find their keys were obliged to stand aside and let others take their turn. As fast as the trunks were inspected, the lid of each was shut down, and it was marked with chalk; and then, as soon as it was locked and strapped again, a porter conveyed it to the tug, where the owner followed it, ready to go on shore.

In the midst of this scene the captain came on deck, and began to look around for the children whom he had promised to take care of. He made some inquiries for them, and at length was told that they had gone ashore.

"At least, I think they have gone," said his informant. "I saw Mr. Holiday's coachman here, inquiring for them, a short time ago. And he seems to be gone. I presume he has taken them ashore."

"He can't have taken them ashore," said the captain. "There is nothing to go ashore till this tug goes. However, I presume he has got them under his charge somewhere."

So the captain dismissed the subject from his mind; and after remaining a few minutes on deck, and seeing that every thing was going on well, he went below into his state room, in order to write a letter to the owners of the ship, to inform them of the safe termination of the voyage.

It was about this time that the chambermaid waked Rollo and Jennie. They rose immediately, and were soon dressed. On going up upon the deck, they were somewhat surprised to witness the bustling scenes that were enacting there; and they stood for a few minutes surveying the various groups, and watching with great interest the process of examining the baggage. At length, after following the process through in the case of one of the passengers, who was just opening his trunk when they came up, Rollo turned to Jennie, and said,—

"It is nothing at all, Jennie. I can do it as well as any body."

So he looked about till he found his trunk, and, leading Jennie there, he took his station by the side of it, and immediately proceeded to unstrap and unlock it. He took out some of the largest things from the top of the trunk and put them on a settee near, so that the officer could easily examine the rest. By the time he had done this, an officer was ready.

"Is this your trunk, my lad?" said the officer, at the same time lifting up the clothes a little at the corners.

"Yes, sir," said Rollo.

"All right," said the officer; and he shut down the lid, and marked the top with a P.

Rollo opened his trunk again to put the other things in, and then locked and strapped it. A porter then took it and carried it on board the tender. Rollo and Jennie followed him.

In about half an hour the tender put off from the steamer and went to the shore. On the way, Jennie, who could not help feeling some anxiety about the result of these formidable proceedings, said, timidly,—

"I don't see what we are going to do, Rollo, when we get to the shore."

"We will do what the rest do," said Rollo.

As soon as the steamer touched the pier and began to blow off her steam, a terrific scene of noise and confusion ensued. Rollo and Jennie stood near their trunk, overawed and silenced; but yet Rollo was not, after all, much afraid, for he felt confident that it would all come out right in the end. He was right in this supposition; for as soon as some fifty of the most impatient and eager of the passengers had got their baggage, and had gone ashore, the tumult subsided in a great measure. At length, a porter, after taking away a great many trunks near Rollo, asked him if that trunk, pointing to Rollo's, was to go on shore. Rollo said that it was. So the porter took it up and went away, Rollo and Jennie following him.

They made their way through the crowd, and across the plank, to the pier. When they had got upon the pier, the porter turned and said, "Do you want a carriage?" Rollo answered, "Yes;" and then the porter immediately put the trunk upon the top of a small carriage which was standing there in a line with many others. He then opened the door, and Rollo and Jennie got in.

"How much to pay, sir?" said Rollo.

"Sixpence, if you please, sir," said the porter.

Rollo, who had had the precaution to provide himself with silver change, so as to be ready, gave the man a sixpence. Of course, it was an English sixpence.

"Thank you, sir," said the porter. "Where shall he drive?"

"To the hotel," said Rollo.

"To what hotel?" said the porter.

"Why—I don't know," said Rollo. "To—to the best hotel."

"To the Adelphi," said the porter to the coachman. So saying, he shut the door, and the coachman drove away.

When they arrived at the door of the hotel, the landlord, who came out to see who had come, supposed at once that his new guests must be Mr. Holiday's children; so he sent them up immediately to their father's parlor, where the breakfast table had been set, and their father, and mother, and Thanny were waiting for them. The joy of their parents at seeing them was unbounded, and they themselves were almost equally rejoiced in finding their long voyage brought thus to a safe and happy termination.

In respect to Tiger, however, the end of the voyage was unfortunately not so propitious. In the confusion of the landing she was forgotten, and left behind; and Jennie was so excited and overjoyed at meeting her mother, that it was nearly noon before she thought of the kitten at all. Her father then sent Alfred on board the ship to see if he could get her. He came back with the cage, but he said that the kitten was nowhere to be found. He made diligent inquiry, but he could obtain no tidings of her—and no tidings were ever afterward heard. Whether she fell overboard and was drowned; or whether the waiters on the ship took a fancy to her, and hid her away somewhere in the forecastle, in order to keep her for their pet and plaything in future voyages; or whether she walked over the plank to the pier, when the ship came alongside of it, and there got enticed away by the Liverpool cats into the various retreats and recesses which they resort to among the docks and sewers,—could never be known. At all events, neither Jennie nor Rollo ever saw or heard of her again.

* * * * *

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By the author of "Pictures from the History of the Swiss." A new volume just published. Price 67 cts.

LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF WHITENOSE WOODCHUCK.

One volume, 16mo. Price 38 cts.

Intended especially for younger children, and illustrated with numerous engravings, by Billings.

In addition to the above. B. & T. publish a great variety of Toy and Juvenile Books, suited to the wants of children of all ages.

* * * * *

AN INTERESTING BOOK FOR SCHOLARS.

The Boys have long desired such a Book.

THE UNIVERSAL SPEAKER:

CONTAINING A COLLECTION OF

SPEECHES, DIALOGUES, AND RECITATIONS,

ADAPTED TO THE USE OF SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, AND SOCIAL CIRCLES.

Edited by N. A. Calkins and W. T. Adams.

The excellences of this work consist, in part, of its entire originality, of its more than usual adaptation to the wants of our High Schools and Academies, and of the systematic arrangement of its selections for declamation and for elocutionary practice. Those in Part Second were prepared by Prof. Wm. Russell, the eminent elocutionist, expressly for this work. The publishers feel assured that in presenting this work to Teachers and Scholars, they are offering them no revision of old matter with which they have long been familiar, but an original work, full of new, interesting, and instructive pieces, for the varied purposes for which it is designed.

In 1 vol. 12mo. Price $1.

The instructions in declamation are so complete and accompanied by such ample illustrations relative to position and gestures of the student, that the "Universal Speaker" needs only to be seen to become what its name indicates—universal.—Rochester Repository.

The pieces are judiciously selected, and the book is very attractive in its appearance—Connecticut School Journal.

We find, upon close inspection, that the work contains much fresh matter, which will be acceptable to schools and students, particularly in the department of dialogues of which there is a great dearth of really good and FIT matter in most speakers.—United States Journal.

They are all school-like, the dialogues being illustrative of scenes in common life, including some first-rate conversations pertinent to school-room duties and trials. The speeches are brief and energetic. It will meet with favor.—R. I. Schoolmaster.

The selection has been made with a great deal of foresight and taste, by men who are highly esteemed as elocutionists, writers, or teachers. The notation, the directions and cuts appended to the pieces, will be found useful to those who use them.—Mass. Teacher.

Looking it over hastily, we notice many admirable selections from the best authors, and as the book is entirely fresh, the matter never having appeared in previous readers or speakers, it cannot fail to be a welcome addition to the books of its class.—Springfield Republican.

In this they have succeeded, and have also been fortunate in the selection. The book contains a larger number of dialogues than any we have seen, and they are mostly relative to school children and school affairs.—Penn. School Journal.

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INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT.

PICTURES

FROM THE

HISTORY OF THE SWISS.

In 1 vol. 16mo. 262 pages. Price 75 cents.

WITH CHARACTERISTIC ILLUSTRATIONS,

DESIGNED BY HAMMETT BILLINGS

It is not generally known that the early history of the Swiss abounds in the most thrilling and interesting stories, of which that of Wm. Tell shooting the apple from the head of his son, by order of the tyrant Gessler, so familiar to every child, is but a specimen. The present volume, while it introduces the youthful reader to many of the scenes through which the brave Swiss passed in recovering their liberty, also narrates many stories of peculiar interest and romance, every way equal to that of Tell. Among those we may name,

The Thievish Raven, and the Mischief he caused.

How the Wives and Daughters of Zurich saved the City.

How the City of Lucerne was saved by a Boy.

The Baker's Apprentice.

How a Wooden Figure raised Troops in the Valois.

Little Roza's Offering.

A Little Theft, and what happened in consequence.

The Angel of the Camp.

With twenty-one other similar stories.

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A NEW SERIES OF JUVENILES.

THE SUMMER-HOUSE SERIES.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "VIOLET," "DAISY," ETC.

The first volume of what the publishers sincerely believe will be the most popular series of Juvenile Books yet issued, is now ready, entitled

OUR SUMMER-HOUSE, AND WHAT WAS SAID AND DONE IN IT.

In 1 vol. 16 mo. Price 62 cents.

Handsomely Illustrated by HAMMETT BILLINGS.

From the author's Preface:—

"The Summer-House Series of children's books, of which the present volume is the first, is an attempt to sketch attractively and simply the wonders of reptile and insect existence, the changes of trees, rocks, rivers, clouds and winds.

"To this end a family of intelligent children, of various ages, collected in a garden summer-house, are supposed to write letters and stories, sometimes playful, sometimes serious, addressing them to all children whom the books may reach.

"The author has hoped, by thus awakening the quick imagination and ready sympathies of the young, to lead them to use their own eyes, and hearts, and hands, in that plentiful harvest-field of life, where 'the reapers indeed are few.'"

Among the stories in the present volume are the following:—

Bessie's Garden,

One of the most touching and affecting stories we have read for many a day.

The Lancers.

A most humorous story, with a never-to-be-forgotten moral, inculcating contentment.

The Working Fairies.

In this story Industry is held up for attainment, and Idleness receives a severe rebuke. The style and language, though perfectly intelligible to children, are worthy of a Beecher.

The Princess.

A story of wrong and suffering.

Little Red-Head.

A true story of a bird.

The Little Preacher.

A sweet story, introducing bird and insect life, and conveying more truth and instruction to children, than can be found in a dozen ordinary sermons.

TAGGARD & THOMPSON, Publishers, 29 CORNHILL, BOSTON.

THE END