"Do you think you can ?" "O, I must! yes, I know I can. Gran'pap will be so glad!"

"Very well, we'll fix upon the hour sometime. You may go now, for I am getting my little Florence ready for a children's party. It's a silly affair, I think; Flory is too little, but Mrs. Beachman would not take no for an answer."

"Is it there?" cried Flor. "Why?" queried Mrs. Walters, glaneing up, surprised.

"Because, gran' pap is going to play, and I'm to go to take care of him," cried Flor, rapturously.

"Well-indeed-then the new clothes will come quite in play. You have never seen a children's party, I suppose ?"

"O yes!" cried Flor, eagerly, "I had one myself-when-papa-" She stopped, confused and frightened. "I forgot,” she said, firmly, looking up in a piteous appealing manner to the bright face above her; "I must never speak of that."

"Of what, my dear?"

Flor only shook her head, and retreated towards the door. Mrs. Walters thought it some childish freak, or point of honor, and forbore, with true womanly delicacy, to question her further. So Flor went home with her clothes, that grandpap tried his best to see through her tongue, and Mitty Morgan came up to dress her, adding here and there a pretty bow of blue ribbon, which she said she had saved from those better times.

"I always knew, my dear, that some good fairy would take pity upon you, and make you a little princess at last-a real princess."

"Not the ragged princess of Pop Court," cried Flor. "But they can't call me the ragged princess any longer now, can they ?" And she looked herself over admiringly.

"Only when you get your fortune that the good fairy is going to give you, you must not forget me," said Mitty, kissing her.

"No, never!" cried Flor, fervently..

What a scene of enchantment for the poor little princess of Pop Court! She sat in a pretty little alcove with the old fiddler, keeping time with her little tambourine, her eyes fastened upon the throng of bright and happy children, decked in holiday attire. Mrs. Walters came and spoke to her at refreshment time, and that made ber supremely happy; but the crowning joy was to hold little Red-Riding-Hood, who had fallen fast asleep, in her arms, while her beautiful lady went up stairs for her shawl and hood; and as little Flor begged to carry the child to the door, it was allowed, and, unseen, she imprinted a kiss upon the angelic forehead.

When she was gone, Flor felt no sympathy for the gay scene, and she was glad when at an early hour the party broke up, and she led the old blind fiddler home again.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

"THAT craft is behaving very queerly, Mr. Plankshear. Will you do me the favor to jump up aloft, and take a squint at her with the quartermaster's glass? You will be able then to look over the haze that bothers us on deck. I will relieve you, sir." And taking the trumpet, Lieutenant Bowline paced leisurely up and down the snowwhite planks of the quarter-deck.

The Moccasin was a sharp-built schooner, fore-and-aft rigged, flying a long whiplike pennant from the main truck. She had originally been a slaver, and owing to her great speed, superior qualities as a seaboat, and beautiful model and lines, had been taken by the United States Navy, placed in commission, and was at present cruising off the island of Hayti, with Lieutenant Bowline in command.

It was early morn, and the fierce tropical sun was slowly rising from his watery bed, striving to pierce through the low bank of fog that hung lightly over the water, and around the dark blue hills of Hayti, but a short distance away.

"She is a small schooner, sir," hailed Mr. Plankshear, the third lieutenant, from the maintop. "I can make her out distinctly. There is a large number of men on board, and there appears to be considerable confusion amongst them, sir."

"Very well, Mr. Plankshear, that will do." And as the young man regained the deck, Bowline handed him the trumpet, saying:

"You can make all sail, Plankshear, and stand for our friend the schooner. My curiosity is excited, and I must have a nearer look."

The young commander dove below as his steward reported coffee ready, and Plankshear, with short rapid orders, soon had the Moccasin under a press of canvas that sent the light craft rapidly through the water, her bright copper flashing in the rays of the morning sun, and the spray flying in showers over the black glossy hull.

The strange craft which had attracted the attention of Bowline was close in shore, staggering along as well as her di

lapidated and ill-fitting canvas would allow. She was felucca-rigged, flying light, and but for the unusual number of men that had been seen on her deck, there was nothing particularly suspicious about her so far as outward appearances were concerned.

The man-of-war schooner, with a bone in her teeth, was soon within range of the felucca, and clearing away one of the handsome brass guns that adorned the maindeck, Mr. Plankshear politely forwarded his compliments in the shape of a solid shot, which had the effect to heave the light craft to in a hurry. The Moccasin shot up on her weather-quarter, the loud piercing whistle of the boatswain's mate echoed around, fifty blue-shirted tars started suddenly into activity, the large lug-foresail of the schooner was brailed up as if by magic, the mainboom hauled amidships, and with jibsheet to weather, the miniature man-of-war was hove to, displaying to the scowling gaze of a few dirty ragamuffins lounging about the felucca deck, the frowning, threatening muzzles of four brass guns protruding from her broadside, and through the open port an occasional glimpse of a long thirty-two mounted on a pivot carriage.

"The skipper of the felucca has stowed away some of his surplus hands, Mr. Plankshear," remarked Bowline, who had returned to the deck.

"Yes sir," replied the young man, who was acting as Bowline's executive officer; "and if they are as hard a looking set as those fellows in view, I don't blame him. Shall I load him, sir?"

"Yes, let Mr. Midget take the cutter's crew and overhaul him. He may be all right, in which case I do not care to detain him."

Again the shrill whistle rose on the morning air, followed by, "Away you first cutters, away!"

The boat was lowered and manned, Mr. Midget, a young beardless midshipman, skipped over the gangway, touching his cap as he descended the side.

"Overhaul him thoroughly, Mr. Midget,

With a clattering of oars, the cutter dashed alongside the felucca, and with considerable importance the young middy drew himself over the rail.

"Ah, you are the master, are you? Well, my boy, take my advice, and have a side ladder rigged the next time I board you; it will look more shipshape, you know." And the boy-middy nodded with a patronizing air to the dark scowling Spaniard who stood before him." Where are you from?" demanded the boy, suddenly.

"Port au Prince, senor, and bound to Jamaica."

"And where are your papers?" "Below, senor."

"And your crew, this is not all of them; your decks were crowded early this morning. We saw them plainly through the glass."

Something like a stifled curse came from the Spaniard as he clenched his white teeth together, but in a moment a smile wreathed his thin lips as he replied:

"My crew are all on deck; what you saw and mistook for sailors were in all probability my passengers."

"Passengers!" echoed the boy, playing idly with the hilt of his sword. "I pity the passengers, I do, indeed. But muster all hands aft here, every mother's son, mind ye, and I'll do myself the pleasure of overhauling them."

A glance of fierce rage shot from the dark depths of the Spaniard's eyes as he turned to one of his assistants and ordered him to drive every one on deck. In a moment the motley crowd poured forth from the forward hatch, and passed before the middy, who greeted them with a running fire of comments. The passengers represented all nations, from the florid Englishman to the thick-lipped African, and to a man were arrayed in dirty loathsome rags, their countenances bearing the imprint of crime, and their general appearance denoting the hardened villain. Each one was questioned separately, but told a straightforward story. The papers, clearance, etc., were found to be all right, and the facts being represented to Lieutenant Bowline, the felucca was allowed to fill away, while

the Moccasin, under easy sail, stood in closer to the land, paying no further attention to the movements of the little craft.

The sun gradually approached the zenith, the light breeze died away, and, with awnings spread fore and aft, both officers and men gasped for a breath of cool air, while the Moccasin, her canvas hanging limp and loose, rolled uneasily to and fro, dipping her lean glossy sides alternately in the irregular swell.

The high land of Hayti, glowing with intense heat, greeted the eyes of the seamen on one side, and the unruffled ocean spread out like a mirror on the other.

Gradually, as the sun set, light breezy clouds floated through the heavens, a light breeze ruffled the ocean on the distant horizon, and with a sigh of relief, the officer of the deck felt the welcome puff on his hot flushed face. The Moccasin had drifted close in shore, and the huge rocks could be distinctly seen through the clear depths of the water.

Bowline came on deck, glanced about him, directed the officer of the deck to anchor in a small natural cove that gave promise of good anchorage for the night. In twenty minutes the schooner was snug, alow and aloft, the watch lounged carelessly about the deck, and the light murmur of the waves broke pleasantly on the ear as they chased one another on the sandy beach.

Bowline and Plankshear were seated on the quarter-deck, sheltered from the evening dew by the awning, and with fragrant cigars between their teeth, were enjoying the cool sea breeze that came fresh and grateful from the ocean. Suddenly a distant cry from the shore echoed across the waters of the little cove, followed in quick succession by the report of firearms and hoarse shouts of alarm.

"Halloo! what does all this mean ?" exclaimed Bowline, starting to his feet. "There's mischief afloat there somewhere, but it's too dark to make anything out."

"Shall I send Mr. Midget with a boat's crew to ascertain ?"

"If you please, Mr. Plankshear, and let them take their sidearms. There is no knowing what the trouble may be, and it's best to be prepared for any emergency."

In five minutes six stalwart seamen, armed with cutlasses and revolvers, were whirling the diminutive form of the middy

on shore, and leaving one hand in charge of the boat, the little party advanced at a run through a thick growth of trees. The land was undulating, and as the seamen gained the summit of a slight eminence, a large flat-roofed house was suddenly disclosed.

An indistinct body of men, with flaring torches in their hands, were running to and fro, while the shouts and yells increased rather than subsided. The seamen, with little Midget at their head, advanced on a run, passing several dead bodies of negroes stretched out on the green sward. The dark shadows of the trees and the light from the torches effectually concealed the approach of the men-of-war's men, and halting for a moment, they surveyed the scene before taking an active part. A body of men, armed with a variety of weapons, from pitchforks down to cutlasses, were endeavoring to force their way into the wide doors of the mansion, which were being vigorously defended by parties within.

"Cut down the old man, run him through, and remember the strong chest full of plate that is in the house!" roared a deep sonorous voice, which Midget instantly recognized as belonging to the Spanish skipper of the felucca. A yell of fiendish determination followed the speech, and with a united rush the gang surged forward, following up their success with shouts of triumph.

66 Forward, my lads, now is our time!" sang out the excited Midget, with his shrill falsetto voice; "shoot them down, and no quarter!"

Out from the darkness rushed the little party, and falling upon the rear of the scoundrels, saluted their astonished ears with a rattling volley of pistol balls. Drawing their cutlasses, the sailors took advantage of the panic, and drove the howling rascals from the interior of the house. The sailors were masters of the situation, and without wasting a moment, began to barricade the door with furniture. It was none too soon, for the leader of the gang soon recovered from his panic, and was holding a hurried consultation with his

men.

"There are only six of them with the boy," he exclaimed, "and we can overpower them, gain possession of the treasure, and be off before they can be rein

forced. Shall we be baffled by a handful of Yankees ?"

"No! no! lead us on!" was the answer; and some forty or more of the desperate villains rushed forward to renew the attack.

In the meanwhile, Midget and his men had not been idle. While the sailors were busy piling furniture before the windows and doors, the middy sought out the inmates of the house. In the hallway they had found a tall white-haired gentleman extended on the floor, disabled from numerous wounds, which were bleeding freely.

"Thank God, you have come to save us!" murmured the wounded man, as his eyes rested languidly upon Midget, who knelt beside him. "Those strange men, pirates," he gasped with failing strength, "made an attack upon my house, andand-O my daughter-Marie-" And the old gentleman fainted, leaving the young officer in a painful state of anxiety and doubt. A few of the more courageous of the servants had gathered about, and by the officer's directions they removed their master to the upper portion of the building. Midget had no time to question the servants, for the party outside had renewed the attack with fresh vigor, and his presence was necessary elsewhere. The men used their revolvers to advantage, but necessarily missed their mark often, owing to the uncertain light.

The assailing party had divided into two gangs, making a combined attack upon the front and rear of the mansion. To the dismay and consternation of Midget, the seamen reported that the charges in their revolvers had given out, and as no orders had been passed to take extra rounds, the weapons were useless.

"We must retreat, men, to the next floor, barricade the two stairways, and rely upon our cutlasses until reinforcements arrive from the Moccasin. They must know by this time that something serious is going on here."

The middy's plan was immediately adopted; the lower floor was abandoned, the broad stairway blocked up with heavy articles, and with stern determination the men awaited the appearance of the now thoroughly enraged gang. Howling with fury, the mixed throng rushed into the house, throwing down the obstructions,

only to find themselves again baffled. The negroes had scented blood, and like wild beasts, panted to satiate their aroused passions.

"Strip the house, my lads, search for the valuables, and smoke these Yankee meddlers out! Be lively, and keep a good lookout, for the cursed schooner must be close at hand." And the voice of the Spaniard was heard stern and menacing above the shouts of his men.

Ornaments wrought from the precious metals, rare articles of value too numerous to mention, were seized upon by the rapacious scoundrels, and the lights from a dozen torches set fire to the heavy draperies and light ornamental woodwork of the mansion.

In a short time the entire lower floor was in a blaze, and shouting forth their bitter defiance, the pirates rapidly retreated from the house, and disappeared in the darkness.

Improvising ropes from sheets, blankets, and whatever they could find, the agile sailors of the Moccasin succeeded in lowering the survivors of the fight from the windows. The old gray-haired gentleman had breathed his last, surrounded by his weeping domestics, with the smoke of his dwelling sweeping through the room, and the glare of the flames lighting up his deathbed. The savage shouts of the murderers rang in his ears, and with a painful gasp he sank back-dead.

Midget made no effort to save the building, seeing at a glance that it would be useless. Seeking out the most intelligent of the servants, he elicited the following explanation from his lips.

The mansion was the property of Monsieur de Courcey, a Frenchman. He was a widower, with one daughter, a beautiful young woman, the belle of that portion of the neighborhood. The gang of rough men had made an attack upon them without warning or provocation, incited by the hope that they would gain an immense plunder. They would have succeeded in their plans but for the appearance and help of the American man-of-war's men; but as it was, he feared that the pirates had taken Marie, the Frenchman's daughter, off with them, for he had seen nothing of her since the beginning of the fight.

the poor girl? Here we have been wasting valuable time that—”

At this point the majority of the Moccasin's crew, with Plankshear at their head, made their appearance, and Midget in a few words explained the whole affair to his superior.

"The girl must be rescued at all hazards," replied the third lieutenant, "and there is no time to lose. The pirates will reembark, and attempt to steal off under cover of the darkness. If they succeed, God pity the poor girl. Fall in, lads, we can do no good here; let the house burn down, but those devils shall pay dearly for the mischief they have wrought."

Running rapidly on through the darkness, the seamen soon regained the beach, and manning their boats, were soon on board of the Moccasin. Bowline listened in astonishment to the reports of Plankshear and Midget, and his dark eyes flashed with an ominous gleam when he learned the whole extent of the villain's work.

Flushed with excitement, the willing crew jumped to their stations, almost anticipating the orders that came sharp and clear from the quarter-deck. The cap

stan was manned, sails were loosed, halliards led along the deck, and in an inconceivably short space of time the Moccasin was again underway.

The breeze was fresh and increasing, the schooner careened to her bearings as she darted through the water, leaving a broad glistening wake of foam and bubbles far astern. The ports had been let down, guns shotted and run out, and every preparation made to give the felucca a warm reception, should they succeed in overhauling her.

The moon had risen, but was partially obscured by the scud that was driving rapidly by. All hands were on the lookout, and many a sharp eye eagerly scanned the dark shores of Hayti, in the hope to be the first to discern the infernal craft.

Hugging the shore at a safe distance, the Moccasin darted through the water with the speed of a racehorse, the long taper masts bending like willows beneath the tremendous strain they were forced to bear.

"There is the pirate, sir!" screamed the excited voice of Midget, from aloft.

"Where away ?" thundered Bowline and Plankshear, simultaneously.