laid side by side and tied to the frame. This he fixed
on four posts driven into the ground, and thus formed an excellent, if
not an elegant, table.

One morning at breakfast, Terrence O'Connor was observed to be unusually
busy with a large hook.

"Are you goin' to fish for sharks to-day?" asked Slag.

"Faix, no; it's to the woods I'll go fishin' to-day, Joe. Now, Nell,
gi' me the stoutest line ye've got on hand, mavourneen."

"Will that do? I made it the other day specially for sharks--or
whales!" said Nellie, with a light laugh, for she expected him to reject
the line she held up.

"The very thing, Nell. Hand it over. Now, boys, I'm off to try my luck
i' the woods, for I'm gittin' tired o' the say."

O'Connor went off alone, bestowing a mysterious wink on Peggy Mitford as
he left.

The Irishman had observed that the wild pigs were particularly fond of a
certain root which was plentiful in a valley about three miles distant
from the hut. Repairing to that valley, he dug up one of the roots,
baited his hook with it, hung it from a low branch to attract attention,
fastened the other end of the line to a tree, and went off to hide and
bide his time. Before half-an-hour had elapsed, a gay young pig visited
the scene of its former festivities, saw the pendent bait, smelt it,
took it in its mouth, and straightway filled the woods with frantic
lamentations. The struggle between the Irishman and that pig was worthy
of record, but we prefer leaving it to the reader's imagination. The
upshot was, that the pig was overcome, carried--bound, and shrieking--to
the hut, and tamed by Peggy. In a short time, other pigs were caught
and tamed. So, also, were rabbits. These bred and multiplied. The
original pig became the mother of a large family, and in a short time
something like the sounds and aspects of a farm began to surround the
old hut. Still further--by means of the cast-iron pot, which already
boiled their soup and their soap--they managed to boil sea-water down
into salt, and with this some of the pigs were converted into salt
pork--in short, the place began to assume the appearance of a busy and
thriving backwoods settlement.

"It's risin' tide with us again, after a fashion, Nell," said the
coxswain to his wife, as they stood one evening on the sea-shore
watching the sunset.

Nellie sighed. "It is, Bob," she said, "and I'm very thankful; but--but
I'd rather be at home in Old England among kith and k