he to me. "Helloh!" says I. "What's the name of this ere wessel?" says he. The "Blue Turquoise," says I. "Jes so," says he. "Becalmed, ain't ye?" "You're right there, sir," says I. "What may I call you, sir?" says I. "Oh, I'm Father Neptune," says he.

Miss James. Oh, now, Uncle Jake. That's impossible.

Ida. Nothing is impossible. Don't interrupt.

Uncle Jake. I'm only tellin' ye what he said. He had a pitchfork in his hand 'stead of a whip.

Miss James. That wasn't a pitchfork. It was a trident, which had three prongs, and was a symbol of Neptune. Mamma—

Victoria. Miss James, you must be a realist. Now, please let the story go on. Pitchfork it is, Uncle Jake.

Uncle Jake. Yes, ma'am, it war. "Well," says I, "that harndsome gal is Miss Neptune, I suppose." With that the young lady laughed fit to kill. "Not by a long shot," says she. "I am Miss Lorelei." Then she giv me one of them piercin' glances of hern, and I shivered. Willie he felt oneasy too. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," says I. "Be you the pusson what sits on a rock and draws sailors to their own destruction?" "The very same," says she, and she kep' on laughin' and laughin'. "If you please, ma'am," says I, "I'd ruther not be drawed. Though 'twould be a change on staying here." "You're safe," says she. "I ain't in the drawin' business now," says she. "Father Neptune and me's takin' a trip round the world." Father Neptune he spoke up, and says he, "Ever been to America? They say it's a fine country. We're goin' there. I want to see their big ships that cross the ocean in five days, seven hours, and fifty-nine minutes. That beats me. And then their life-savin' stations, and light-houses, and sea-side homes for poor sick babies. I want to see them all. Sea-air is good for babies, eh? Good enough for me. I've lived on it several hundred years." "You're lookin' hale and hearty, sir, I'm sure," says I.

"Well, good-by, and good luck to ye," says he, pullin' at the reins.

"Hold on, your Honor," says I, for an idee had taken possession of me. "Can't ye give us a pull out er this?" He talked low with Miss Lorelei, and she didn't seem to object. "All right, throw us your hawser," says he. I was all of atremble, but Willie and me got that there rope loose in a hurry, and threw one end to Father Neptune, and made fast the other. "Ain't you afraid?" says Willie. "No, my boy," says I. "The end justifies the means." Miss Lorelei took hold of the hawser, and Father Neptune give his horses a poke with his pitchfork, and my eyes! the old thing groaned and started. The Blue Turquoise was actually under way, and them horses foamin' and prancin' for all they was wurth, 'twarn't long before we was flyin' and churnin' the waves behind. Miss Lorelei looked back with them wicked, beautiful eyes of hern, and tossed her golding hair, and, "You see I am back again in the drawin' business," says she, with a laugh like the rattle of silver.

Up come the Capting. "Got a wind, eh?" says he. "Why, no, not a breath. What in thunder makes her go?" Then he spied the hawser drawn tight over the bow, and he turned pale, his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered. You might have pushed him down with a straw. It war, no mistake, a curus position, and I never blamed the Capting for feelin' queer. "It's all right, sir," says I; "we're bein' tugged."

"Who's a-doin' the tuggin'?" says he. Father Neptune war nothin' more'n a speck on the water by this time, and Capting couldn't make him out. I told the facts to the Capting, and Willie, he j'ined in, and said it war blessed Gospel truth. But the Capting's wind was clean out of his sails. I set him a steamer-chair, and Willie fanned him with a newspaper before he fairly come to. "Lord," says I, "Capting, what's the odds how you git out of this, s'long 's you only git out?" which I hold to be a pretty good p'int.

We were pulled clear out of the Saragossa Sea, and the wind sprang up, and we made port in a week arter.

Victoria. Did Father Neptune let go the hawser?

Uncle Jake. No, miss. Ye see, I had forgot to tell him we was bound south, and nachelly he bein' headed for the Sea-side Home, was a-goin' north. We cut the hawser. But I'll never forgit the good turn he did us.

Ida. My brother's name is Willie. He is a sailor.

Uncle Jake. What's his last name?

Ida. Willie Moore.

Uncle Jake. Bless my soul, if that warn't the identical chap.

Ida. But my brother's first voyage was on the Porpoise. She sailed to the West Indies.

Uncle Jake. It war the Porpoise. Beats all, how my memory fails. The Blue Turquoise war the next ship I sailed in.

Ida. Willie never spoke of that adventure at home, Captain Jake.

Captain Jake. Ask him, ask him. 'Mind him of the Saragossa Sea, and how the Blue—I mean the Porpoise—war tugged. He'll recollect. Mention Miss Lorelei with her golding hair. But good-day, young ladies. Pleased to meet ye again.

All. Good-day, Captain Jake.

Miss Sommerfield. And many thanks for your pretty tale.