"You take that and remember me."

Paul was surprised at the liberal present, but quickly recovering, he
said to the departing excursionist: "Hold on, my friend, you are
forgetting something." Carefully counting forty-nine cents from a
handful of change he drew out of his pocket, he handed it to the rescued
man and remarked: "I could not think of taking a cent more than your
life is worth."

On another occasion, Paul succeeded in rescuing a young lady who was
being rapidly carried out to sea and who would certainly have been
drowned but for his aid. In his struggles to get her ashore, he was
compelled two or three times to grasp her roughly by the hair. When
landed, she was unconscious and in that state was conveyed to her hotel.
Paul met a friend of the lady on the beach and inquired, how Miss --
-------- was getting along. "Oh very well," was the response; "but she
is a very curious young lady."

"How is that?" asked Paul.

"Well, when I visited her this morning I remarked that she ought to be
very grateful to you for saving her life. 'I am,' she hesitatingly
answered. 'But I think he might have acted a little more gentlemanly and
not caught me by the hair. I have a frightful headache.'"

There is an old saying, "That if you wish to make enemy of a man, just
save his life or lend him money." Paul's experience convinced him that
the saying was true. Many and many a person has he saved from a watery
grave, who never even took the trouble to seek him out and thank him.

In the Fall of 1869 Paul lost everything he had in the world by a great
fire at Cape May and he left there heavy hearted and disgusted with
business. Soon after, his father died and the home was very, very
lonely. When the estate was settled up, Paul's old love for travel
and adventure came strongly back to him. The Franco-Prussian war broke
out. He believed that it was the opportunity that he was looking for.
He embarked from New York to Liverpool, thence to Havre, where he
presented himself at the Hotel de Ville and offered his services as an
American volunteer. At this time the French military authorities were
not accepting volunteers as readily as they did later on, so Paul
had much difficulty in getting rolled in the service as a Franc-tireur.
A few days after he had landed in Havre, he was marching away with a
chassepot rifle on his shoulder and a knap-sack and blanket on his back.
His un