"Leopold found a bag of gold buried on the beach," replied Stumpy; and without reserve, he proceeded to tell all he knew about the treasure.

"And you and he are going to divide this money between you!" exclaimed Squire Moses, jumping at once to the point, as soon as Stumpy had told the story.

"Who says we are?" asked Stumpy, indignantly.

"That is what they say," added Ethan, who had, possibly, heard such a suggestion, as the narrative became distorted in its passage along the main street.

"I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury," continued Squire Moses, addressing himself to "Joel's widow," as he and Ethan usually called her,—"I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury, that I don't believe this boy has been brought up right. You ought to have brought him up to be honest."

"Like his grandfather!" exclaimed Stumpy, sullenly.

"Yes, like your grandfather," added the squire, severely. "No man can say that Moses Wormbury ever stole a cent from anybody."

This remark evidently indicated the boundary line of the squire's homestead.

"Done just the same thing," muttered Stumpy.

"Why, father, Stumpy is a good boy," pleaded Mrs. Wormbury.

"If he takes any of this money, it will be just the same as stealing it," added the squire, projecting the remark savagely at the trembling widow of his lost son.

"Who is going to take any of it?" demanded Stumpy, springing to his feet, with his mouth full of fried fish.

"You! you and Bennington's son are going to divide it between you!"

"Its no such thing," protested Stumpy. "I wish we were, though."

"Do you say you are not?"

"I do say so! Leopold thinks the money belongs to the heirs of the man who buried it on the beach; and he is going to try to find them."

"That alters the case," replied the squire, more mildly. "I hope the man's heirs will get the money for it belongs to them."

"I hope everybody will get what belongs to him," said Stumpy; but the remark was too indefinite to be appreciated by his amiable grandfather.

"You have no right to a dollar of this money, Stumpy; and if you touch it, I want you to understand that it will be stealing."

"I have nothing to do with the money. Le Bennington found it, and he knows what to do with it. If he chooses to give me some of it, I will take it fast enough."

Squire Moses and Ethan were both satisfied, so far as Stumpy was concerned; and they were rejoiced to know that Leopold intended to keep the gold until he could find the heirs of the man who had committed it to the sand.

"Susan," said Squire Moses, as he turned to depart, "I told you that you might stay in this house till the first of August; and so you may; but I am going to foreclose the mortgage right off, so that I can get legal possession sooner. It won't make any difference to you."

The old miser did not wait to hear any reply to this announcement; but the tears dropped from the widow's eyes as the door closed upon the hard old man. The squire and Ethan walked down to the main street, talking with every one they met about the treasure, protesting that it ought to be kept for the heirs of the rightful owner, and manufacturing public sentiment which should compel the landlord of the Sea Cliff House and his son to pursue this course. It is true that the people of Rockhaven were very much surprised to hear Squire Moses and his son preaching such a doctrine; but they were willing to accept it, for it seemed to be just and right that the heirs should have what plainly belonged to them.

Unknown to them, and not yet with the entire approbation of his father, Leopold was their ally in directing public sentiment. After dinner, the parlor of the Sea Cliff House was filled by the New Yorkers and others who desired to hear the narrative of the finding of the hidden treasure. Leopold, in his best clothes, washed, dressed, and combed for a great occasion, appeared at the door of the parlor with Harvey Barth's diary in his hand. Stumpy, who had come over to see him in regard to the exciting topic, followed him, and took a back seat in one corner of the room. The money-digger was not a little abashed when he saw so many pairs of eyes directed towards him; but he commenced his story, and soon recovered his self-possession. He began with the wreck of the Waldo, for the New Yorkers knew little or nothing of this exciting event. He then came to the appearance of Harvey Barth at the Cliff House, and detailed all the incidents relating to the diary, the visit of Miss Sarah Liverage, and the finding of the journal when the chimney was pulled down.

Leopold stated he had read only those portions of the diary which related to the treasure; and then he read the description from the book of the burying of the gold in the thunder and lightning. He had dug the beach all over, under the instruction of the nurse; and he had been unable to find the bag even after he read the journal, until he went down to High Rock in a thunder shower. Then, for the first time, he could distinguish Coffin Rock. Thus guided, he had found the treasure.

Leopold then gave his views in regard to the ownership of the gold, and declared that he intended to keep the money in his uncle's safe till he had seen the owners of the Waldo, and they had sent to Havana. This statement to the astonishment and confusion of the money-digger, was followed by hearty applause, in which even the ladies joined. Public sentiment in the parlor earnestly indorsed his views.

"Leopold reads very well," said Mr. Hamilton; "and as we desire to rest for an hour or two, I suggest that he read the diary to us from the time the Waldo left Havana."

This suggestion was warmly applauded, and verbally seconded by half a dozen of the party. Leopold consented under this pressure, and read for a full hour, till he came to the afternoon of the day on which the brig was lost; in a word, till he came to what Harvey Barth had just written when Wallbridge came to the galley to light his pipe, as recorded in the first chapter of this story. The steward did not believe the passenger's name was Wallbridge, as written on the Waldo's papers. He did not see what he had changed his name for, and hoped he hadn't done anything wrong.

"'He gave his name as J. Wallbridge,' Leopold read from the diary; 'but that was not the name I found on the paper in his state-room, when I made up his bed on the day we sailed from Havana, though the initials were the same. Then he lent me his Bible to read one day, and this other name was written on it in forty places, wherever there was any blank paper. I wanted to borrow the Bible again, but he would not lend it to me; and I thought he remembered about his name being written in it so many times. I saw the same name stamped on a white shirt of his, which he hung up to air on deck to-day. The name was not J. Wallbridge either; it was Joel Wormbury.'"

"My father!" shouted Stumpy, springing to his feet.



CHAPTER XVI.

GOLD AND BILLS.

Stumpy was an excited young man. He had come into the parlor on the invitation of Leopold, and had very modestly coiled himself away in the most obscure corner of the room. He was very much interested in the reading of Harvey Barth's diary, and especially in regard to the mysterious passenger. When Leopold read the name of "Joel Wormbury," he could no longer contain himself. He leaped from his corner, and shouted as though he had been hailing the Rosabel half a mile off.

"My father!" repeated he; and all eyes were fixed upon him.

Stumpy was excited, not so much, we must do him the justice to say, because there was money involved in the fact, as because the name and memory of his father were dear to him.

"That man was Stumpy's father as true as the world!" said Mr. Bennington.

"It is a very remarkable affair," added Mr. Hamilton. "Such things don't often happen."

"But I haven't the slightest doubt that this Wallbridge was Joel Wormbury," replied the landlord.

"I'm sure of it," exclaimed Stumpy. "I know all about that Bible; I've seen it twenty times; and mother always used to put it into father's chest when he was going away fishing."

"I don't know about that, Stumpy," interposed Mr. Bennington, with a smile of incredulity; "I'm afraid it won't hold water."

"What's the reason it won't?" demanded Stumpy, who was entirely satisfied in regard to the identity of the sacred volume. "I used to carry it to Sunday school sometimes; and I've seen my father's name written in forty places in it, wherever there was a page or part of a page not printed on, just as Harvey Barth says in his diary. I don't believe there is any mistake about that."

"But the writer of this journal appears to have been considerably exercised about the passenger's change of name," said Mr. Hamilton, before the landlord had an opportunity to explain why he doubted the truth of the statement in regard to the Bible. "Harvey Barth hoped Mr. Wallbridge had not done anything wrong."

"He hadn't done anything wrong," protested Stumpy, warmly.

"Why should he change his name, then?" asked the ex-congressman. "For the fact that he did so appears to be well established."

"There was a reason for it," replied the landlord, "though as Stumpy says, Joel Wormbury had done nothing wrong. Joel was attacked by a man in liquor, and in self-defence he struck the assailant on the head with a bottle, and supposed that he had killed him. He left Rockhaven in a great hurry, in order to escape the consequences. He did not even go to his house before he left town, afraid, perhaps, of finding a constable there waiting for him. He went off in such a hurry, that I don't believe he thought to take his Bible with him."

The landlord bestowed a smiling glance upon Stumpy, satisfied that he had as completely demolished the Bible argument as though he had been a practised theologian.

"If my mother was only here, she could tell you all about that," said Stumpy.

"Do you think he went home for the Bible before he left?" asked Mr. Bennington.

"I know he didn't."

"Where did he get the Bible, then?" asked the landlord.

"I'll tell you; and I won't say a word that I can't prove," replied Stumpy, warmly.

"You are not among enemies, or those who are at all inclined to doubt your word, young man," added Mr. Hamilton.

"I'll tell you about it, then; but I wish my mother was here, with the letters my father wrote to her."

"We are willing to believe all you say, Stumpy," said the landlord.

"You thought that what I said would not hold water, just now."

"But I explained why I thought so."

"And the doubt was certainly a reasonable one," added the merchant; "now we only wait for you to remove it."

"I will do that and I can prove all I say by my father's last letter to my mother, which is post-marked at Gloucester, Mass., in which he told all about the fight, and gave the reasons why he cleared out."

In answer to a question asked by one of the ladies, Stumpy related more fully the particulars of Joel Wormbury's departure from Rockhaven.

"About six months before my father went off for the last time, he returned to Gloucester from a fishing trip to the Georges," continued Stumpy. "He expected to go again in a few weeks; so he left his chest in Gloucester. His Bible was in that chest; but, as he found work coopering at home, he did not go again till he left after the fight. In his letter to my mother, he said he had got his chest, and that he had the Bible all right. He wrote, too, that he meant to read it more than he had ever done before, and not use it to scribble in. That was the last letter we ever got from father. We heard that he had gone out to attend to the trawls, and was lost in a fog, not being able to find his way back to the vessel. Of course we hadn't any doubt that he was dead, after we got a letter from the captain of the schooner in which my father sailed. That's all I know about it."

"But how came he in Havana?" asked Mr. Hamilton.

"That's more than I know, sir," answered Stumpy.

"Harvey Barth could not have known anything about Joel Wormbury," added Leopold; "and he wrote his diary, it appears on the very day the Waldo was lost."

"There can be no doubt that Wallbridge and Joel Wormbury were one and the same person," said Mr. Hamilton. "The name which Harvey Barth found on the paper, the initials, on his valise, the name on the shirt, and written forty times in the Bible, fully establish the fact in my mind."

"And in mine, too," said Leopold. "Stumpy, the gold is yours, and I will give it to you whenever you are ready to take it."

"This is a go!" exclaimed Stumpy, with a broad grin on his brown face. "We need the money bad enough; and my mother will jump up six feet when she hears the news. Somebody else won't feel good about it, I'll bet."

Stumpy did not explain to whom the last remark related; but he experienced the most lively satisfaction when he thought of the pleasure it would afford him to see his mother tender the seven hundred dollars in payment of the mortgage note. It occurred to him then that the business ought not to be postponed a single day, for Squire Moses had announced his intention of foreclosing the mortgage at once.

"How much money is there in the bag?" asked the merchant.

"Twelve hundred dollars in gold," replied Leopold; "and the diary says Joel Wormbury saved it in two years from his earnings in Cuba."

"Joel was an industrious and prudent man," added the landlord.

"It is very fortunate that the hidden treasure fell into honest hands," continued Mr. Hamilton, turning to Leopold; whereupon all the company clapped their hands, and the skipper of the Rosabel blushed like a school-girl.

"He's a noble fellow!" exclaimed Miss Rosabel.

"A pious swell," added Charley Redmond, with a sneer.

The business of the meeting having been thus happily accomplished, the occupants of the parlor departed.

"Come Stumpy, I want to hand the money over to you," said Leopold.

"I don't want it now," replied Stumpy. "I shouldn't dare to take it into the house, for fear my beloved grandad should steal it. I think he would find some way to do it, without calling the deed by any hard name."

"What are you going to do with the gold, Stumpy?" asked Mr. Hamilton.

"Hand it over to my mother. Squire Moses is going to foreclose the mortgage on the house we live in right off. I want to head him off on that before night."

"But gold, you know, is worth a large premium just now. I saw by my paper which came to-day that it was 208 in New York," continued the merchant.

"I'll go and tell my mother about it," said Stumpy, moving off.

"Stop a moment, my boy," interposed Mr. Hamilton. "If you are going to pay off the mortgage you should do so in currency, not in gold. I will buy your coin, and assist you in this business."

"Thank you, sir," replied Stumpy, warmly.

"I will pay you the market rate for your gold, whatever the papers report it to be for to-day."

Mr. Hamilton was certainly very kind; and Stumpy felt that, with such a powerful friend, he had the weather-gage of his avaricious grandfather. Leopold led the way to the shop of his uncle, and the New York merchant joined them.

"I want the gold, uncle," said Leopold.

"What for you want him?" demanded Herr Schlager.

"I have found the owner."

"Donner and blitz! Den he is no more your golt."

"No, uncle; but I feel better in handing it over to Stumpy than I should in spending it myself," laughed Leopold.

"Himmel! Stumpy!"

"Yes Stumpy." And the money-digger briefly stated the facts which had been discovered.

"Donner and blitz! I'm glad for der poy, but sorry for you," added the watch-maker, as he took from the safe the shot-bag containing the treasure.

"Take it, Stumpy. It is yours," said Leopold. "Open it."

"I can't exactly believe in this thing yet, Le," replied Stumpy, as, with trembling hand, he cut the red tape, and demolished the sacred seal of Herr Schlager.

Turning the bag over, he poured the gold out upon the counter. The money was American coin, which Joel Wormbury had probably purchased in Havana, to avoid the necessity of exchanging it after his return to Rockhaven. Mr. Hamilton counted the money, and found that Harvey Barth's statement was again correct.

"Now figure it up, my boy. Then we will finish this transaction at once," said the merchant. "I shall not be able to pay you in full for it to-day; but I have credits in Belfast and Rockland, and you shall have the whole of it by to-morrow night for we intend to cross the bay in the Orion to-morrow."

Leopold and Stumpy both did the sum, multiplying twelve hundred by two hundred and eight, and pointing off two decimals in the product.

"Twenty-four hundred and ninety-six dollars!" exclaimed Leopold.

"That's what I make it," added Stumpy, "What a pile of money!"

Mr. Hamilton, who had left New York prepared to pay the heavy expenses of his yacht excursion, counted off twelve one hundred dollar bills, which he handed to Stumpy.

"I will give you my note for the balance," said the merchant.

"Creation!" cried Stumpy, looking the bills over, his eyes dilated till they were nearly as big as saucers—small saucers. "Here's more money than I ever saw!"

Mr. Hamilton wrote the note, and gave it to Stumpy. It was made payable to the order of Sarah Wormbury.

"But I don't want all this money. I don't know what to do with it," exclaimed Stumpy, embarrassed by his sudden riches.

"You shall have the rest to-morrow night," added Mr. Hamilton.

"I would rather not have it just yet."

"As you please. If I retain it, I shall pay you interest," replied the merchant.

"Interest! Hold on, now, hold on, all!" almost shouted Stumpy, turning from the bills which still lay on the counter, and looking Leopold square in the face. "I'm a hog! I'm a pig, just out of the sty!"

"What's the matter now?" demanded Mr. Hamilton, laughing heartily at the odd manner of Stumpy.

"Here I've been thinking of myself and my folks all the time! Here I've been thinking of what I should do with all this money, and never had a thought of Le, who found it, and kept it for me and my folks. I'll do the fair thing Le."

"What do you mean?" asked the merchant.

"I shall divy with Le; I shall give him at least five hundred.

"Not a cent," protested Leopold.

"You bet!" added Stumpy. "I've been thinking all the time about getting my mother out of trouble, and only just now it comes into my head that Le's father is in hot water. I'll tell you what we'll do, Le: I'll give you five hundred—"



"No, you won't! not a cent," said, Leopold, decidedly. "I should feel as though I had been paid for being honest."

"I hope he won't take any part of the money which your father earned, and kept sacredly for his family," interposed Mr. Hamilton. "I grant that he deserves it."

"Not a cent," repeated Leopold.

"I never should have got a dollar of it, if it hadn't been for him," Stumpy argued.

"No matter for that," said Leopold.

"I know now!" exclaimed Stumpy, as if a new thought had taken possession of him. "Just subtract seven hundred from twenty-four hundred and ninety-six, Le."

"Seventeen hundred and ninety-six," replied Leopold.

"That's just the amount I don't want. Of course when I say 'I,' my folks is meant. Now, Le, your father wants money just as badly as my mother does; and we will lend the seventeen hundred and ninety-six dollars to him, taking his note on interest, just as Mr. Hamilton would give it. But I would rather give you five hundred of the money."

"You can't give me a dollar; but if you will lend some of the money to my father, I should like it first rate."

"I will—the whole of it," protested Stumpy.

"This is quite a sensible arrangement, my boys," said the merchant; "and I have so much confidence in Mr. Bennington's integrity, that I will indorse his note. But it strikes me that you are going rather too fast, Stumpy."

"Why, sir?"

"Perhaps I have led you too rapidly over the ground. Whatever property your father left—this money included—belongs to his family. I suppose an administrator ought to be appointed."

"Creation! That would be Squire Moses!" exclaimed Stumpy, aghast.

"No; your mother may be appointed."

"My mother! Well, now I think of it, I believe she was appointed. I didn't know much about such things at the time."

"Be that as it may, before you lend the money to Mr. Bennington, or give any to Leopold, you had better see your mother. I will go to the house with you, for I am really quite interested in this matter."

"Thank you, sir; you are very kind, and I am ever so much obliged to you," answered Stumpy. "But I shouldn't feel right—administrator or not—if Le's father wasn't helped out of trouble."

"I was not aware that Mr. Bennington was in difficulty."

"He is—up to his eyes; and I know very well that my grandfather—that's Squire Moses—means to get the Sea Cliff House away from him, if he can, and let Ethan Wormbury have it. This money must save him. He's been a good friend to me, and I should be a hog if I didn't help him out. Mother will do it, too, I know; for if it hadn't been for Le, we shouldn't have seen this money."

"We will talk with your mother about it," replied Mr. Hamilton, as he put the gold back into the shot-bag, and asked the watch-maker to keep it in the safe till the next day, when he intended to dispose of it in Rockland.

Stumpy placed the twelve hundred dollars in bills in his wallet, and put it in his pocket; but he did not remove his hand from it till he reached his mother's house. If the widow's son was almost crazy in the whirl of remarkable events which so suddenly altered the fortunes of the family, it was hardly to be wondered at; and doubtless the ardor and fury with which he rushed into the house, with his hand still clutching the wallet in his pocket, would have startled his mother, if she had not been sadly occupied with an affair of her own. Squire Moses, Ethan, and the village lawyer were with her, and were about to give the legal notice of the foreclosure of the mortgage. The old man was afraid that he should be cheated out of his prey if he waited any longer. Stumpy rushed into the house, followed by Mr. Hamilton and Leopold.

"O, my son," exclaimed Mrs. Wormbury, "the house is to be taken from us!"

"Not now," interposed Squire Moses. "I told you that you might stay here till the first of August. I'm not a hard man, to turn you out without any notice. I always mean to do what is just right."

"Of course. I have been expecting it, after what you said; but it comes very hard to be turned out of house and home," sobbed Mrs. Wormbury.

"You shall not be turned out, mother," cried Stumpy, blubbered himself, when he saw the tears in his mother's eyes; "neither now nor on the first of August."

"Why Stumpfield, what do you mean?"

"Perhaps the boy means to pay the note of seven hundred dollars," sneered Squire Moses. "But I don't want any nonsense about this business."

"That's just what I'm going to do, grandpa," shouted Stumpy, drawing the wallet from his pocket, and taking from it the roll of bills.

Squire Moses turned round, amazed at the announcement of his grandson, and for the first time discovered the presence of Mr. Hamilton.

"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Hamilton," said he, extending his withered hand to the merchant. "This is disagreeable business."

"I should think it was—to turn your son's widow out of house and home," replied the ex-congressman, dryly.

"The mortgage note has been due for years," pleaded the squire. "Of course the widow can't pay it, and—"

"Yes, she can!" yelled Stumpy. "She never did get any favors from you, and she don't ask for any now. Here's the seven hundred dollars. My mother wants the note, and a release of the mortgage."

Squire Moses actually turned pale, as much from anger as from the failure of a profitable operation for the future.

"I don't understand this," said he.

"Here's your money, when you give my mother the papers," replied Stumpy. "That's easy enough to understand—isn't it?"

"Where did you get the money, Stumpy?" demanded the squire.

"That don't make any difference," added Stumpy, shaking his head.

"I don't think it does," interposed Mr. Hamilton. "The young man's position appears to be quite correct."

Squire Moses looked at the merchant, and immediately concluded that this rich New Yorker had advanced the money. He bit his lips till they bled, but finally went off with Ethan and the lawyer, to procure the necessary papers to discharge the mortgage.

"I don't understand it any better than Squire Moses," said Mrs. Wormbury, when the hard creditor had gone.

"You will pay off the note, mother, with money earned by father's own hands," replied Stumpy, gently.

"What do you mean, my son?" asked the widow, trembling with emotion.

Stumpy explained what he meant. Mrs. Wormbury listened, and wept when she realized that her husband had perished in the waves, not on the Georges, but within sight of his own home. The story was hardly finished before Squire Moses returned alone, with the note and release. Mr. Hamilton carefully examined the latter document, and declared that it was correct.

"So it seems Joel was the passenger in the Waldo, who buried this money," said the squire, as he put the bills in his pocket; for the discovery made in the parlor of the Sea Cliff House was now following the story of the hidden treasure up the main street.

"That's so," replied Stumpy; "and mother will always have the satisfaction of knowing that this house was all paid for with his earnings."

Squire Moses soon left, with the feeling that he had lost at least a thousand dollars by the finding of the hidden treasure.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE FIRST OF JULY.

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Stumpy, as soon as the door had closed upon his amiable grandfather.

He threw up his hat to the ceiling, and demonstrated in the most extravagant manner, to the great amusement of Mr. Hamilton and Leopold. Mrs. Wormbury cried with joy, and was not less happy than her son.

"Come, Stumpfield, don't go crazy," said she.

"The house is paid for, mother, and you don't owe a single dollar in the whole world to any man, woman or child—except Leopold," shouted Stumpy, checking himself at the end of his enthusiastic discourse. "We ought to give him five hundred dollars of this money."

"Not a cent of it to me!" protested the skipper of the Rosabel; "but you may do it in the other way if you like."

"I will, and I know mother will.—Mother," continued Stumpy with energy, "we owe all this to Leopold. He was honest, clear up to the hub; if he hadn't been, we shouldn't have got a cent of this money which father earned. We should have been turned out of the house on the first of August, and had to grub our way worse than ever. Now the house is paid for, and we have nearly eighteen hundred dollars in cash. That will give us over a hundred dollars interest money, which will make it a soft thing for us. No interest money to pay, either; so that we shall be a hundred and fifty dollars better off than we were before; and all because Leopold was honest, and did the right thing."

"I am sure I am very grateful to him, for my own and my children's sake," added Mrs. Wormbury.

"That don't pay any bills, mother," protested Stumpy. "Leopold's father is in trouble. My beloved grandad will come down upon him like a thousand of bricks, on the first of July, if he don't pay the interest on his note; and Le says his father can't do it."

"I'm very sorry," sighed Mrs. Wormbury.

"That don't pay any bills, mother; and we must do something more than being sorry. I want to lend this money—this eighteen hundred dollars—to Mr. Bennington right off. He will be able to pay us after this season."

"I think you can safely do this, Mrs. Wormbury," added the merchant. "I will indorse the landlord's note, and thus guarantee its payment."

"I'm sure I shall be very glad to do so," said the widow, with a cheerful smile, which proved that she meant all she said.

"I shall be very much obliged to you, and consider myself more than paid for anything I have done in this business," replied Leopold.

"I am sure you can depend upon Mr. Bennington," said Mr. Hamilton. "Was any administrator appointed for the estate of your husband, Mrs. Wormbury?"

"I was appointed administratrix."

"As your husband was not dead at the time, perhaps the appointment does not hold good at present. You had better procure a reappointment. But in the mean time I will be responsible for all your acts, and you may take the landlord's note. I would assist Mr. Bennington myself if it were not for depriving Stumpy of the pleasure of doing so."

The business was finished, and Mr. Hamilton and Leopold returned to the hotel. The widow and her son had a long talk over their sudden accession of fortune; but both of them were painfully perplexed by the revelations of Harvey Barth's diary. The husband and father had lived more than two years after they believed he was dead; but the events of this period seemed to be forever sealed to them. In what manner he had been saved, and how he came to be in Cuba, made a sad mystery to them; but in due time the veil was lifted, and they heard the whole story.

The landlord of the Sea Cliff House was in the office when his son returned. All the guests had gone to walk on the cliffs, and the house was nearly empty. Mr. Bennington, as usual of late, was sad, perplexed, and worried. His debts troubled him, and the dreaded first of July was rapidly approaching. Jones had already told him he must have the three hundred dollars due him before that time. Others were pressing him sorely to pay their bills or notes. Two or three had already refused to give him any further credit for supplies for the hotel, the market-man among the number. It looked as though he must suspend on the first day of July.

The finding of the hidden treasure, in spite of what Leopold had said about keeping it for the possible heirs of the owner, to be discovered in the future, had given him a strong hope that it might be available to relieve him from his embarrassments. He thought only of using it to pay his debts, and restoring it if the heirs were found. But after dinner the heirs had been found in the family of Joel Wormbury. His hope from this source was, therefore, plucked away from him almost as soon as it was awakened. If the New Yorkers staid till the dreaded pay-day, even the whole of their bills would not pay the amount of his indebtedness; but it was not probable that they would remain at the house more than a day or two longer. The most that he could expect from them was enough to pay Jones, who had threatened to force him into insolvency if he was not paid.

Everything, therefore looked very gloomy and dark to the landlord, when his son entered the office.

"You were in a great hurry to get rid of the money you found, Leopold," said Mr. Bennington, rather reproachfully.

"I had to be honest, father," replied the son.

"If you had kept still for a few weeks, I might have used the money, and paid it off in the fall. Of course I didn't mean to have you keep it; but if I could have had the use of it even a month, it would have saved me. As it is, I must fail," groaned the landlord. "I can't get over the first of July any way in the world."

"How much do you owe, father?" asked Leopold.

"About a thousand dollars, which I must pay right off. Mr. Hamilton's party will probably leave three or four hundred dollars with me; but that won't save me."

"Well, father, you shall have money enough to pay all you owe, except the mortgages, to-morrow night," added Leopold, lightly.

"What do you mean?" demanded the landlord, opening his eyes.

"By being honest I have made some good friends. After Stumpy had paid of the mortgage on his mother's house, which Squire Moses was on the point of taking from the family, he offered to lend you all the rest of the money which the gold brings."

"Stumpy?"

"His mother agreed to it, and you will give her a note for the amount, which Mr. Hamilton promised to indorse."

"But how much money will there be?" asked Mr. Bennington, bewildered by this unexpected succor.

"Nearly eighteen hundred dollars."

"That will be more than I want."

"You need not take any more than you need; I think the hidden treasure meets your case better than if I had not found the heirs so soon."

"I declare, I feel as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from the top of my head!" exclaimed the landlord.

"I feel better about it now than I should if I had stolen the hidden treasure," added Leopold.

"So do I. But I will take only twelve hundred dollars of this money; and I am satisfied that I shall be able to pay it at the end of the season."

The next day the Orion made her excursion to Rockland, and Leopold and Stumpy were invited to join the party. Rosabel and Isabel were in excellent spirits, and, as the bay was tolerably smooth, so was Charley Redmond. Stumpy, dressed in his Sunday clothes, looked more like a gentleman than usual. Mr. Redmond tried to make fun of him before the girls, but Stumpy was too much for him, and retorted so smartly that he turned the laugh upon the fop.

Rosabel's long auburn tresses floated on the breeze, and Leopold could not help looking at her all the time, thinking that she was the prettiest girl in the whole world. He was very attentive to her, and when the yacht anchored in the harbor of Rockland, she permitted him to hand her into the boat.

Stumpy, by his assiduous devotion to Miss Belle, and especially by his sharp and witty retorts upon Mr. Redmond, had won her regard, and the coxcomb had to step one side. Charley was disgusted and had to seek his companions among the older people of the party, to whom he had much to say about these "country swells."

Mr. Hamilton did his financial business in the city, disposing of the gold at two hundred and nine, as the telegraph reported the rate to be in New York.

In the afternoon the breeze freshened, and, with Leopold for a pilot, the yacht sailed up the bay, and the party enjoyed the trip till the last moment, when they landed in Rockhaven. In the evening the merchant went to Mrs. Wormbury's house, and paid her the balance of the eighteen hundred and eight dollars, which the gold had produced. With so much money in the house, the widow and her eldest son could not sleep; but early the next morning Mr. Bennington received, and gave his note for, twelve hundred dollars of it, leaving Stumpy, who was the financier on this occasion, embarrassed with six hundred more. He did not know what to do with it, and Leopold advised him to put it in Herr Schlager's safe. They went to the watch-maker's for this purpose. In front of the shop they saw Deacon Bowman engaged in an earnest conversation with Squire Moses Wormbury. Stumpy heard his grandfather say something about "bonus" as he passed him.

"There's a trade," said he to Leopold, as they entered the shop. "My beloved grandad is going to gouge the deacon out of some money, I know by the looks of him."

"Deacon Bowman looks troubled," added Leopold.

"He wants to borrow money, I suppose," replied Stumpy. "Hark!"

Stumpy went out of the shop, and while he pretended to be looking at the goods in Herr Schlager's window, he listened to the conversation till the two men separated, and the deacon entered the watch-maker's shop.

"You are driving a hard trade, with Squire Moses," said Stumpy, following the deacon into the shop.

"Did you hear it?" asked Deacon Bowman, with a troubled expression.

"I heard part of it. Squire Moses is to lend you six hundred dollars, and you are to give him a note and mortgage on your house for seven hundred—a bonus of one hundred, besides the interest," added Stumpy.

"I did not agree to it, but I want the money very badly. My son, who is in business in Portland, is in trouble, and I am raising this money for him," replied the deacon, with a shudder. "If I don't furnish it, my son will be—Did you hear the rest?"

"No, sir, I did not, and I don't want to hear it."

"I'm glad you don't."

The deacon's son had forged an indorsement, and if the note was not paid, exposure was certain; and Squire Moses was taking advantage of the circumstances.

"Make the note and mortgage for six hundred dollars to Sarah Wormbury, administratrix, and here is the money," added Stumpy, taking the balance of the proceeds of the hidden treasure from his pocket, rejoiced to be able to help the worthy deacon, and at the same time to head off a mean act of his grandfather.

Deacon Bowman had heard all about the good fortune which had come to Joel Wormbury's family, and he readily comprehended where the money in the hands of the young man came from.

"I promised to meet Squire Moses here in an hour, and give him my final answer," added he. "I will have the papers ready as soon as I can."

Herr Schlager put the money in his safe, as requested; but in less than an hour Deacon Bowman came with his papers, the mortgage and note duly signed, acknowledged, and witnessed. He received the money, and his heart seemed to be glad. By the time the business was finished, Squire Moses arrived, satisfied that the unfortunate deacon would be compelled to accept his hard conditions.

"I shall not want the money, Squire Moses," said Deacon Bowman.

"Not want it!" exclaimed the old skinflint, taken all aback by this announcement.

Squire Moses was very anxious to re-invest the sum he had received for the mortgage of Joel's place, and he was greatly disappointed to lose so good a speculation as that he had proposed to the deacon.

"I shall not want it; in fact I have been able to make a better arrangement," replied Deacon Bowman.

"Where did you get the money?" demanded the squire.

"Your grandson, here, loaned it to me on his mother's account."

If Squire Moses was disappointed before, he was mad now. He looked daggers at Stumpy, who was not afraid of him, now that the debt was paid.

"Of course you told him about your son," sneered the money-lender.

"I did not," replied the deacon sadly.

"People will be likely to know all about it now."

"They will be likely to know at the same time that somebody required me to mortgage my place for seven hundred dollars, in order to obtain six hundred," added the deacon, sharply.

Squire Moses was startled, for he valued his reputation more than his character as known to God and himself.

"Perhaps neither of us had better say anything," said he, biting his lip, and leaving the shop.

"We will keep still till Squire Moses lets on," said Stumpy; and everybody except the usurer was pleased.

Stumpy went home, and told his mother what he had done in her name, with which she was entirely satisfied. In due time the release and the mortgage were recorded; Mrs. Wormbury was re-appointed administratrix and guardian of her children, and all other necessary legal steps were taken to prevent any future difficulty, if Squire Moses was disposed to question the widow's proceedings.

The first of July came. The New York party were still at the Sea Cliff House, though nearly every day they made an excursion in the Orion. They were still enjoying themselves to the utmost, and the hotel grew in favor with them the longer they stayed. Mr. Bennington had quietly paid every bill presented to him, without informing any one that he was "in funds." Squire Moses had not been near him; in fact, the old man had been to Bangor to look out for a piece of property on which he held a mortgage, and about which there was "a hitch." In his absence, the landlord's creditors, seeing that he was doing a good business, did not disturb him. Even Jones kept away till the first day of the month; but when he presented himself, his note was promptly paid.

While he was still in the office of the hotel, Squire Moses, who had just returned from Bangor, entered, with his mortgage note in his hand. He was very cross and very ugly, for he was in peril of losing the whole or part of the money he had loaned on the Bangor property. As he had stirred up all the landlord's creditors, he was confident that Mr. Bennington would not be able to pay him.

"I want the interest money to-day," said he, sharply as he stepped up to the counter, behind which the landlord stood.

"Can't you wait till next week? When these New York folks leave, I shall have more money than I have now," replied Mr. Bennington, who, knowing just what his hard creditor wanted, was disposed to thorn him a little.

"I must have the money to-day," added Squire Moses more mildly, for he began to feel that the business was in just the condition he wished it to be.

"It has been a pretty tight time with me for money," pleaded Mr. Bennington.

"It has with everybody; but if you can't pay me my interest money, say so."

"But suppose I can't pay it; you won't be hard with me—will you?"

"I expect folks to do just what they agree to do. I don't want any long stories about it," added Squire Moses, who was secretly happy.

"Waiting till next week won't make any difference with you."

"I think I know my own business best. I understand you to say you can't pay. Here is Jones, and in his presence, as a witness, I demand the money."

"Just so," replied the landlord; "but if—"

"No buts about it, Mr. Bennington. I don't want to talk all day about nothing. You can't pay; that's enough;" and the squire moved towards the door, followed by Jones, who desired to pay his note.

"Squire Wormbury," called the landlord, "one word."

The usurer walked back to the counter, determined, however, not to prolong the argument. Mr. Bennington took a well-filled pocket-book from the iron safe, from which he counted out the amount due the squire.

"I thought you said you couldn't pay it," growled Squire Moses, whose heart sank within him when he saw the bottom drop out of the nice little plan—a very stupid one, by the way—which he had arranged with Ethan.

"I didn't say so. I only asked if you would wait till next week," laughed the landlord.

"Fooling with me—were you?" snapped the squire.

"I understood a while ago that the Sea Cliff House was to have a new landlord about the first of July, and I wanted to see how you felt about it to-day."

"Who said so?"

"Well, you and Ethan talked it over together. You were to take possession, if I didn't pay the interest, turn me out and put your son Ethan in."

"Who said I did?"

"No matter about that. You and he had the talk in the parlor of your house; and I can prove it, if necessary."

But the landlord did not wish to do so, for it would expose Stumpy, who had given the information to Leopold.

"I don't calculate to have anything which the law don't give me," growled Squire Moses, as he picked up his money, and indorsed the payment on the back of the note.

"The law don't give you the Sea Cliff House, and it never will," added Mr. Bennington, as the money-lender turned to leave.

"Hold on, Squire Moses," interposed Jones; "I want to take up that note of mine."

"You needn't pay it yet," replied the usurer, who had over a thousand dollars on hand now, which he had been unable thus far to invest, for he did not believe in the government and the war, and refused to buy bonds.

"I want to pay it now. I won't owe you anything after what I have heard to-day. I'm afraid I shall lose my place," answered Jones.

The debtor and creditor left together. Jones paid his note. People began to believe that it was not prudent to borrow money of Squire Moses, for he was "tricky" as well as hard.

In the course of that day Mr. Bennington paid every dollar of his indebtedness in Rockhaven. Those who had refused him credit were profuse in their apologies, and some of them confessed that they were "put up to it" by Squire Moses.

The next day the Orion departed, with all her party, for New York.

Mr. Hamilton paid the bill, which amounted to over seven hundred dollars, without a question, and promised to come again the next season. Leopold assisted the party in going on board of the yacht, and shook hands at parting with Rosabel. He watched the vessel, with the beautiful girl waving her handkerchief to him, till she was out of sight. He was sorry to have her go, for it was a pleasure for him to look at her. He had sailed her to High Rock the day before, and she had said a great many pleasant things to him. It was a quiet time at the Sea Cliff House after the departure of the New York guests, but Leopold missed Rosabel more than all others, and even then began to look forward to her return.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COMING WAVE.

By the middle of July the Sea Cliff House was full. The report of the New Yorkers among their friends that this hotel was the best on the coast, induced a great many families and others to seek accommodations at the house. By the first of August Mr. Bennington was obliged to "colonize" his guests in the neighboring houses. The season was a decidedly successful one to him, and his profits more than realized his anticipations. In the fall he paid off the mortgage on his furniture, and the note he owed to the widow Wormbury, and still had a large balance in the bank. The Island House had hardly any business, for people preferred to go to the Sea Cliff, even if they had to take rooms outside of the hotel. Ethan did not make any money that season.

Leopold had all he could do in the boat, and made a small fortune for himself by taking out parties. He raised his price to six dollars a day, so that he could pay Stumpy two dollars a day for his services. The affairs of Mrs. Wormbury were therefore in excellent condition.

After the season was finished, a man came over from Rockland and took rooms at the Sea Cliff House. He inquired if there was such a person in the place as Joel Wormbury. The guest was very much surprised to learn that he was dead, and in the course of the day went to see his family. He had come to offer Joel a situation on a plantation in Cuba, where he had first met and known the deceased. The visitor was an engineer, by the name of Walker, and had instructed Joel in his business, so that he was able to run an engine on a plantation. Joel had told him his story. He had been picked up by a passenger steamer, and carried to Liverpool. There, after he had been drinking, he was induced to ship as a seaman in a bark bound to Havana, where he first met Walker. He ran away from the vessel, and went with his new friend to the plantation where the latter was employed.

Joel was a mechanic, and understood an engine very well. Instructed in the details of the business by Walker, he obtained a situation at very good wages. He had written to his wife, but for some reason unknown his letters failed to reach their destination. After working two years on the plantation, he determined to go home, and ascertain what had become of his family. Walker had gone with him to Havana, where Joel changed his money into American gold, and embarked in the Waldo. That was the last his friend had heard of him. Walker had come home on a visit to his relatives in the interior of the state, and wished Joel to return with him.

The mystery was solved; and the visitor declared that his friend had not drank a drop of liquor during the two years he was in Cuba.

It was a great satisfaction to Mrs. Wormbury and her children to hear this good report of the deceased husband and father; and Walker left, sincerely grieved at the death of his friend, whom he highly esteemed.

In the winter Leopold went to the "academy," and studied hard to improve his mind and increase his knowledge. He applied himself diligently to German, under the instruction of Herr Schlager, so that he could talk in that language with Rosabel when she came the next season, for it must be confessed that he thought a great deal of her.

The spring came, bringing nearer to Leopold the coming of Rosabel. In June a letter from the honorable Mr. Hamilton arrived, announcing the intended visit of the family to the Sea Cliff House, and fixing the time at about the first of July. He engaged his own rooms, and three others for his party and they were to come in the Orion. This was the best of news to Leopold. He was a year older than when he had last seen Rosabel, and had grown much taller and stouter. An incipient mustache was coming on his upper lip,—though he was not yet eighteen,—on which he bestowed some attention. The young ladies in the academy had declared among themselves that he was the handsomest young man in Rockhaven; and with this indorsement there can be no doubt that he was a very good-looking fellow. He dressed himself neatly, out of his own funds, and was very particular in regard to his personal appearance.

As the first of July approached, he was even more particular than usual. The dawning mustache was carefully trained, so that each hair was in the most eligible position to produce an effect. For a boating dress, he wore a gray woolen shirt, trimmed with pink, and secured in front with black studs. But even in this garb, with his hair nicely combed, his mustache adjusted, his broad shirt-collar, open down to his breast, and held in place by a black handkerchief, tied in true sailor style,—in this garb, even, he was a fellow upon whom a young lady would bestow a second and even a third look, if the circumstances were favorable.

From early morning till dark, on the first day of July, Leopold kept an eye on the sea-board side of the town, looking out for the Orion. She did not appear; but on the afternoon of the next day, he discovered the yacht as she rounded the point on which stood the light-house. Captain Bounce knew his way into the river this time, and in a few moments more the Orion reached the anchorage off the wharf. As soon as Leopold recognized the vessel, he hastened to the Rosabel, his heart beating wildly with the pleasant excitement of the occasion. Embarking in the sloop, he was soon alongside the Orion. The accommodation-steps were placed over the side for him, and he ascended to the deck.

"I am glad to see you, Leopold," said Mr. Hamilton, extending his hand to the boatman.

"Thank you sir; we are all glad to see you and your family here again," replied Leopold, as he glanced towards the quarter-deck in search of Rosabel. "Are Mrs. Hamilton and your daughter on board?"

"Yes, both of them; but I have a smaller party than I had last year."

At this moment Leopold saw Rosabel emerging from the companion-way. His brown face flushed as he approached her, and she was as rosy as a country girl when she offered him her little gloved hand, which he gratefully clasped in his great paw.

"I am very glad to see you again, Miss Hamilton," said Leopold; and certainly he never uttered truer words in his life.

"And I am delighted to see you again, Leopold," she replied gazing earnestly into his handsome brown face, and then measuring with her eye his form from head to foot. "How tall and large you have grown!"

We are inclined to believe, from the looks she bestowed upon him, that she fully indorsed the opinion of the young ladies of the academy. Rosabel was taller, more mature, and even more beautiful than when he had seen her last. She was dressed to go on shore; but as soon as she saw Leopold and the Rosabel, a new idea seemed to take possession of her mind.

"I want to go to High Rock this minute!" exclaimed the fair girl. "I have been thinking about the place every day since I was here last year; and I want to go there before I land at Rockhaven."

Her father objected, her mother objected, and the grim old skipper of the Orion declared there would be a shower and a squall, if not a tempest, before night. But Rosabel, though a very good girl in the main, was just a little wilful at times. She insisted, and Leopold was engaged to convey her to the romantic region. He was seventeen and she was fifteen; and no young fellow was ever happier than he was as he took his place at the helm with Rosabel opposite him in the standing-room.

No other member of the party was willing to join her in the excursion, for Belle Peterson and Charley Redmond were not passengers in the yacht this time. If Leopold had been a young New Yorker, perhaps her father and mother would have objected to her going alone with him. As it was, they regarded him, in some sense, as a servant, and they intrusted her to his care as they would have done with a conductor on the train, or with the driver of the stage. He was simply the boatman to them—a very good-looking fellow, it is true, but not dangerous, because he was not the young lady's social equal. He always treated her with the utmost respect and deference.

The breeze was fresh, and in a few moments Leopold landed her on the narrow beach beneath the lofty rock. The maiden left the boat, climbed the high rock, and wandered about among the wild cliffs and chasms, all alone, for Leopold could not leave the inanimate Rosabel—which the rude sea might injure—to follow the animate and beautiful Rosabel in her ramble on the shore.

She was gone an hour, and then an other hour. He called to her, but she came not, and even the warning of the muttering thunder did not hasten her return. But she came at last, and Leopold hastened to get under way, though he feared that the storm would be down upon him before he could reach the Orion.

"We are going to have a tremendous shower," said Leopold, anxiously, as he shoved off the boat.

"I'm not afraid; and if I get wet, it won't hurt me," replied Rosabel, who actually enjoyed the flashing lightning and the booming thunder, and gazed with undaunted eyes upon the black masses of cloud that were rolling up from the south-east and from the north-west.

"It looks just exactly as it did on the day the Waldo was wrecked," added Leopold. "It blew a perfect hurricane then, and it may to-day."

"If you are alarmed, Leopold, we can return," suggested Rosabel.

"We can hardly do that, now, for the tide has risen so high that the beach is nearly covered, and my boat would be dashed to pieces, if we have much of a squall."

"Do you think there is any danger?" asked the fair maiden, who was deeply impressed by the earnest manner of the boatman.

"I hope not," replied he, more cheerfully, for he did not wish to alarm her. "If I can only get into Dipper Bay, which is hardly half a mile from here, we shall be all right; and we may have time to run into the river."

Dipper Bay was a little inlet, almost landlocked, in which the water was deep enough to float his sloop at this time of tide, and its high rocky shores would afford him a perfect protection from the fury of any squall, or even hurricane. But Leopold felt that his chances of reaching this secure haven were but small, for the breeze was very light.

The Rosabel was but a short distance from the shore when the wind entirely subsided, and the long rollers were as smooth as glass. The lightning glared with fearful intensity, and the thunder boomed like the convulsions of an earthquake. By this time Rosabel, who had before enjoyed the sublimity of the coming storm, now began to realize its terrors, and to watch the handsome boatman with the deepest anxiety. The sails flapped idly in the motionless air, and Dipper Bay was still half a mile distant.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Hamilton," said Leopold, as he threw off his coat and vest, dropped his suspenders from his shoulders, and rolled up his shirt sleeves above the elbows. "If the squall will keep off only a few moments, we shall be in a safe place."

The skipper evidently "meant business;" and, shipping the long oars, he worked with a zeal which seemed to promise happy results, and Rosabel began to feel a little reassured. But the sloop was too large and too broad on the beam to be easily rowed, and her progress was necessarily very slow.

"Can't I help you, Leopold?" asked the maiden, when she saw what a tremendous effort the boatman was making.

"You may take the tiller and steer for Dip Point, if you please," replied Leopold, knowing that his beautiful passenger would be better satisfied if she could feel that she was doing something.

Leopold plied his oars with all the vigor of a manly frame, intent upon reaching the little bay, where the high rocks would shelter his craft from the fury of the storm. Then a breeze of wind came and he resumed his place at the tiller. He had almost reached the haven when he saw coming down over the waters a most terrific squall. Before he could haul down his mainsail, the tempest struck the Rosabel. He placed his fair charge in the bottom of the boat, which the savage wind was driving towards the dangerous rocks. Before he could do anything to secure the sail, the main-sheet parted at the boom. He cast off the halyards; but the sail was jammed, and would not come down.

The Rosabel was almost upon the rocks. Seizing an oar, Leopold, satisfied that he could do nothing to save the boat, worked her away from the rocks, so that she would strike upon the narrow beach he had just left. The fierce squall was hurling her with mad speed upon the shore. By the most tremendous exertion, and at the imminent peril of his life, he succeeded in guiding her to the beach, upon which she struck with prodigious force, crushing in her keel and timbers beneath the shock. Without a word of explanation, he grasped the fair Rosabel in his arms, and leaped into the angry surges, which were driven high upon the rocks above him. The tide had risen so that there was hardly room under the cliff for him to stand; but he bore her to this only partial refuge from the fury of the storm.

The tempest increased in violence, and the huge billows rolled in with impetuous fury upon him. Grasping his fair burden in his arms, with Rosabel clinging to him in mortal terror, he paused a moment to look at the angry sea. There was a narrow shelf of rock near him, against which the waves beat with terrible violence. If he could only get beyond this shelf, which projected out from the cliffs, he could easily reach the Hole in the Wall, where Harvey Barth had saved himself in just such a storm. He had borne Rosabel some distance along the beach, both drenched by the lashing spray, and his strength was nearly exhausted. The projecting shelf was before him, forbidding for the moment his further progress.

.

Placing his left foot on a rock, his fair but heavy burden on his knee, clasping her waist with his left hand, while his right was fastened for support in a crevice of the cliff, he paused for an instant to recover his breath, and watch for a favorable chance to escape from his perilous position. Rosabel, in her terror, had thrown her arms around his neck, clinging to him with all her might. When he paused, she felt, reposing on his powerful muscles, that she was safe—she confessed it afterwards; though, in that terrible sea, and near those cruel rocks, the strength of the strongest man was but weakness. Leopold waited. If the sea would only recede for an instant, it would give him the opportunity to reach the broader beach beyond the shelf, over which he could pass to the Hole in the Wall. It was a moment of hope, mingled with a mighty fear.

A huge billow, larger than any he had yet seen, was rolling in upon him, crested and reeking with foam, and might dash him and his feeble charge, mangled and torn, upon the jagged rocks. Still panting from the violence of his exertion, he braced his nerves and his stout frame to meet the terrible shock.

With every muscle strained to the utmost tension, he waited THE COMING WAVE. In this attitude, with the helpless maiden clinging to him for life, with the wreck of his fine yacht near, he was a noble subject for an inspired artist.

The coming wave buried him and the fair maiden in its cold embrace. It broke, and shattered itself in torrents of milky foam upon the hard rocks. But the larger and higher the wave, the farther it recedes. Leopold stood firm, though he was shaken in every fiber of his frame by the shock. The retiring water—retiring only for an instant, to come again with even greater fury—gave him his opportunity, and he improved it. Swooping like a strong eagle, beneath the narrow shelf of rock, he gained the broader sands beyond the reach of the mad billows. It blew a hurricane for some time. The stranded yacht was ground into little pieces by the sharp rocks; but her skipper and his fair passenger were safe.

On the identical flat rock in the Hole in the Wall where the steward of the Waldo had seated himself, after the wreck, Leopold placed his precious burden. He sat down by her side, utterly exhausted, and unable to speak. He breathed very hardly, groaning heavily at each respiration, for he had exerted himself to the verge of human endurance.

"O, Leopold," gasped poor Rosabel, gazing with tender interest upon her preserver, "you have saved me, but you have killed yourself!"

The gallant young man tried to speak, but he could only smile in his agony. Taking her hand, he pressed it, to indicate his satisfaction at what he had done.

"What shall I do?" cried the poor girl.

Leopold could only press her hand again; but she felt that she must do something for him. Throwing off her wet gloves, she began to rub his temples, to which he did not object. But in a few minutes more he was able to speak.

"I am only tired," gasped the boatman. "I shall be all right in a few moments."

Then the rain began to pour down in torrents. Leopold rose from the rock, and conducted Rosabel to an overhanging cliff, in the ravine, which partially sheltered them from the storm. The wind continued to howl, as though the squall had ended in a gale; but the rain soon ceased to fall, and Leopold helped his fair companion to the summit of the cliff.

"There is nothing left of the Rosabel," said Leopold, as he gazed down upon the white-capped billows which lashed the jagged rocks below. "She went to pieces like an egg-shell."

"Never mind the boat, Leopold. I am so thankful that our lives were spared," replied Rosabel.

"O, I don't care for the boat. I only thank God that you were saved. I thought we should both be dashed in pieces on the rocks."

"I should have been, if you had not been so strong and brave, Leopold. You might have left me, and saved yourself, without much trouble."

"Left you!" exclaimed Leopold, gazing into her beautiful face. "I would rather have been ground up into inch pieces on the rocks, than do that, Miss Hamilton!"

Rosabel believed him, and the tears flowed down her cheeks, as she brushed away from her eyes the auburn locks, soaked with salt water, and gazed into his earnest, manly face.

Before the storm had subsided, the Orion, bearing the agonized parents, was floundering in the billows off High Rock, with only a close-reefed foresail set. Leopold and Rosabel both made signals, to assure the father and mother of their safety. An hour later, when the waters were comparatively still, there was a joyous scene in the cabin of the Orion. Hot tears dropped from the eyes of father and mother, and convulsive embraces were exchanged. Leopold's right hand was nearly twisted off by the overjoyed parents and friends of her who had been saved from the Coming Wave.

The yacht sailed into the river again, and on the passage, Leopold, assisted by Rosabel, related all the particulars of the loss of the Rosabel, and of their narrow escape from the rocks and the billows on the beach under High Rock.

If Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had before regarded Leopold, in any sense, as a servant, or even a boatman, they no longer considered him as anything but a social equal, a noble and dear friend, who had risked his life to save their beloved daughter. If they were grateful and devoted to him, not less so was Rosabel herself.

The party stayed a fortnight at the Sea Cliff House, and enjoyed themselves even more than during the preceding season. Every pleasant day a party went out in the Orion, and, having no boat of his own now, Leopold was glad to go with them. On the day after the storm, the mate of the yacht had left Rockhaven for New York, and the late skipper of the Rosabel was requested to perform his duty on board, which he did to the entire satisfaction of Captain Bounce. After the mate had been absent a week, the mate pro tem. of the Orion, as the yacht was running out of the river, discovered a small sloop, headed for the light. Her hull and her sails were intensely white. She was a beautiful craft, and appeared to be entirely new. She was evidently a yacht, and Leopold knew that she did not belong to any of the places in the lower bay. The word was passed aft that a yacht was approaching, and all the passengers came forward to see her.

"That's her, Mr. Hamilton," said Captain Bounce, mysteriously after a little talk with his owner.

"Where is she from?" asked Leopold.

"New York," replied the ex-congressman, chuckling.

"What's her name?"

"The Rosabel."

"I didn't know there was any craft with that name, except mine," replied Leopold, as Rosabel placed herself by his side.

"She is new, and has not had that name more than a week," added Mr. Hamilton.

"Whom does she belong to?" inquired Leopold.

"She belongs to Leopold Bennington now."

This announcement was followed by a silvery laugh from the merchant's daughter.

"She is to take the place of the boat you lost."

"Here's a go!" grinned Stumpy, who was doing duty on board as assistant steward.

"We don't care to mystify you, Leopold," laughed Mr. Hamilton. "The mate of the Orion is in charge of her. She is a new boat, finished just before I left New York, and offered for sale. On the day after you lost your sloop, I sent the mate to purchase her for you. There she is, and she is yours. You can go on board of her now, if you please."

"Let me go, too," interposed Rosabel.

The new yacht came up into the wind, when the Orion did so, and one of the boats of the latter conveyed Rosabel, Leopold, and Stumpy to the sloop, bringing back the mate and the man who had come with him from New York. The new Rosabel was thirty-two feet long, with a large cabin, furnished with berths, and a cook-room forward. Leopold and Stumpy were enraptured with the craft, and looked her over with the utmost delight. They followed the Orion all day, and kept up with her, for the new Rosabel was even faster than the old one.

But our story is nearly told, and we cannot follow these pleasant parties on their excursions on the bay. Leopold and Stumpy sailed the new Rosabel the rest of the season, and the money flowed freely into their separate treasuries. The Sea Cliff House prospered beyond the expectation of the landlord, and he was abundantly able to pay off the mortgage on the hotel when it was due. Squire Moses dropped dead one day in a fit of apoplexy, and, having neglected to make a will, as he had often declared that he intended to do, his property was equally divided among his heirs. Stumpy found his mother independent by this event, but he continued to sail with Leopold in the Rosabel.

The next winter after the stirring incidents at High Rock, Leopold went to New York on a visit, and was heartily welcomed by the Hamiltons, who treated him with as much consideration as though he had been a foreign duke. Rosabel was delighted to see him, we need not add. The result of this visit was, that the merchant invited Leopold to take a position in his mercantile establishment, to which his father reluctantly consented. Stumpy took his place as boatman for the Sea Cliff House.

Leopold gave his whole energy to business, and when he was only twenty-two he was admitted as a partner to the firm. He was a splendid-looking fellow and no one would have suspected, after noting his elegant appearance, his fine manners, and his energetic business habits that he was not an original New Yorker. Of course he made frequent visits to the house of Mr. Hamilton, and was always a welcome guest. His relations with Rosabel were of the most interesting character; and now at twenty-six, he is a happy husband, educated and wealthy, and, with his wife to nerve his soul, he stands braced against the Coming Wave of Temptation and Sin, which is always rolling in upon the pilgrim of earth.



OLIVER OPTIC'S BOOKS.

IN DOORS AND OUT:

OR,

VIEWS FROM A CHIMNEY CORNER.

12mo. Numerous Illustrations, $1.50.

* * * * *

Differing from other books of this popular author in that it Is intended for adult readers, while the others are written for young people.

It contains about thirty bright and interesting stories of a domestic order, directed against the follies and foibles of the age. They are written in a kindly, genial style, and with a sincere purpose to promote happiness, good feeling, and right dealing in domestic, business, and social relations.

Many who have not time and patience to wade through a long story, will find here many pithy and sprightly tales, each sharply hitting some social absurdity or social vice. We recommend the book heartily after having read the three chapters on "Taking a Newspaper." If all the rest are as sensible and interesting as these, and doubtless they are, the book is well worthy of patronage.—Vermont Record.

As a writer of domestic stories, Mr. William T. Adams (Oliver Optic) made his mark even before he became so immensely popular through his splendid books for the young. In the volume before us are given several of these tales, and they comprise a book which will give them a popularity greater than they have ever before enjoyed. They are written in a spirited style, impart valuable practical lessons, and are of the most lively interest. We have seen these stories likened to Arthur's domestic tales; but while they instil equally as valuable lessons, we think them written with much more force and spirit.—Boston Home Journal.

YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD.

SECOND SERIES.

A Library of Travel and Adventure In Foreign Lands, 16mo. Illustrated by Nast, Stevens, Perkins, and others. Per volume, $1.50.

* * * * *

1. UP THE BALTIC; Or, Young America in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.

2. NORTHERN LANDS; Or, Young America in Russia and Prussia.

3. CROSS AND CRESCENT; Or, Young America in Turkey and Greece.

4. SUNNY SHORES; Or, Young America in Italy and Austria.

5. VINE AND OLIVE; Or, Young America in Spain and Portugal.

6. ISLES OF THE SEA; Or, Young America Homeward Bound.

"Oliver Optic" is a nom de plume that is known and loved by almost every boy of intelligence in the land. We have seen a highly intellectual and world-weary man, a cynic whose heart was somewhat imbittered by its large experience of human nature, take up one of Oliver Optic's books and read it at a sitting, neglecting his work in yielding to the fascination of the pages. When a mature and exceedingly well-informed mind, long despoiled of all its freshness, can thus find pleasure in a book for boys, no additional words of recommendation are needed.—Sunday Times.

YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD.

FIRST SERIES.

A Library of Travel and Adventure In Foreign Lands. 16mo. Illustrated by Nast, Stevens, Perkins, and others. Per volume, $1.50.

1. OUTWARD BOUND; Or, Young America Afloat.

2. SHAMROCK AND THISTLE; Or, Young America in Ireland and Scotland.

3. RED CROSS; Or, Young America in England and Wales.

4. DIKES AND DITCHES; Or, Young America in Holland and Belgium.

5. PALACE AND COTTAGE; Or, Young America in France and Switzerland.

6. DOWN THE RHINE; Or, Young America in Germany.

* * * * *

The story from its inception and through the twelve volumes (see Second Series), is a bewitching one, while the information imparted, concerning the countries of Europe and the isles of the sea, is not only correct in every particular, but is told in a captivating style. "Oliver Optic" will continue to be the boy's friend, and his pleasant books will continue to be read by thousands of American boys. What a fine holiday present either or both series of "Young America Abroad" would be for a young friend! It would make a little library highly prized by the recipient, and would not be an expensive one.—Providence Press.

THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES.

Six Volumes, Illustrated, Per vol., $1.50.

1. GOING WEST; Or, The Perils of a Poor Boy.

2. OUT WEST; Or, Roughing it on the Great Lakes.

3. LAKE BREEZES; Or, The Cruise of the Sylvania.

4. GOING SOUTH; Or, Yachting on the Atlantic Coast.

5. DOWN SOUTH; Or, Yacht Adventures in Florida. (In Press.)

6. UP THE RIVER; Or, Yachting on the Mississippi. (In Press.)

* * * * *

This is the latest series of books issued by this popular writer, and deals with Life on the Great Lakes, for which a careful study was made by the author in a summer tour of the immense water sources of America. The story, which carries the same hero through the six books of the series, is always entertaining, novel scenes and varied incidents giving a constantly changing, yet always attractive aspect to the narrative. "Oliver Optic" has written nothing better.

WOODVILLE STORIES.

Uniform with Library for Young People. Six vols, 16mo. Illustrated. Per vol., $1.25.

1. RICH AND HUMBLE; Or, The Mission of Bertha Grant.

2. IN SCHOOL AND OUT; Or, The Conquest of Richard Grant.

3. WATCH AND WAIT; Or, The Young Fugitives.

4. WORK AND WIN; Or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise.

5. HOPE AND HAVE; Or, Fanny Grant among the Indians.

6. HASTE AND WASTE; Or, The Young Pilot of Lake Champlain.

* * * * *

Though we are not so young as we once were, we relished these stories almost as much as the boys and girls for whom they were written. They were really refreshing even to us. There is much in them which is calculated to inspire a generous, healthy ambition, and to make distasteful all reading tending to stimulate base desires.—Fitchburg Reveille.

FOR ADULT READERS.

LIVING TOO FAST;

OR,

THE CONFESSIONS OF A BANK OFFICER

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.

* * * * *

This is a most entertaining story, and it also carries with it an excellent moral, self-evident to almost any reader. It is beautifully printed and graphically illustrated. The scene of the story is laid in Boston; and the author's experience with his mother-in-law is very readable, as is also his reckless expenditures for his wife's sake, he harboring a false pride which inclined him to think that keeping up appearances was nearly the whole life. If you want to place a thoroughly entertaining and profitable book in your library, do not fail to send to the publishers of this charming story, who will promptly furnish it on receipt of the price.—Boston Cultivator.

"Here is the last and best work of that instructive author. It is full of incidents of a fast life, the expedients to keep up appearances, resulting in crime, remorse, and the evil opinion of all good men. The narrative is replete with startling situations, temptations, and all that makes up a thrilling story, in the semblance of an autobiography well rendered, sprightly, pathetic, with a dash of sensation.

THE END