e! fire! The world is on fire! Run! run! the world is on fire!'

She caught up her babe and darted away. With him in her arms, she flew
down Charles street, across the Common, and through the crowded
thoroughfares, till she reached India Wharf, all the while muttering,
'Water, water;' water to quench the fire in her blood, in her brain, in
her very soul.

She paused on the pier, and gazed for a moment at the dark, slimy flood;
then she plunged down, down, where all is forgetfulness!

She had a dim recollection of a storm at sea; of a vessel thrown
violently on its beam-ends; of a great tumult, and of voices louder than
she ever heard before--voices that rose above the howling of the tempest
and the surging of the great waves--calling out: 'All hands to clear
away the foremast!' But she knew nothing certain. All was chaos.

The next thing she remembered was waking one morning in a little room
about twelve feet square, with a small grated opening in the door. The
sun had just risen, and by its light she saw she was lying on a low,
narrow bed, whose clothing was spotlessly white and clean. Her little
boy was sleeping by her side. His little cheeks had a rosier, healthier
hue than they ever wore before; and as she turned down the sheet, she
saw he had grown wonderfully. She could hardly credit her senses. Could
that be _her_ child?

She spoke to him. He opened his eyes and smiled, and put his little
mouth up to hers, saying, 'Kiss, mamma, kiss Fanky.' She took him in her
arms, and covered him with kisses. Then she rose to dress herself. A
strange but neat and tidy gown was on the chair, and she put it on; it
fitted exactly. Franky then rolled over to the front of the bed, and
putting first one little foot out and then the other, let himself down
to the floor. 'Can it be?' she thought, 'can he both walk and talk?'
Soon she heard the bolt turning in the door. It opened, and a pleasant,
elderly woman, with a large bundle of keys at her girdle, entered the
room.

'And how do you do this morning, my daughter?' she asked.

'Very well, ma'am. Where am I, ma'am?'

'You ask where? Then you _are_ well. You haven't been for a long, long
time, my child.'

'And _where_ am I, ma'am?'

'Why, you are here--at Bloomingdale.'

'How long have I been here?'

'Let me see; it must be near fifteen months, now.'

'And who brought me?'

'A vessel captain. He said that just as he was hauling out of the dock
at Boston, you jumped in