d fish would be
likely to cut. When he got it done, the water bubbled through it like an
oil-well. In fact, Mr. P. was afraid that his vessel would fill up
before he was near enough for the maiden on the rocks to hear his
heart-rending cries for succor. He could see her plainly now. 'Twas
certainly she. He knew her by her photograph--("Twenty-five cents, sir.
The American female GRACE DARLING, sir. Likeness warranted, sir.")

But she turned not towards him. Confound it! Would she finish that
eternal tidy ere she glanced around?

The boat was almost full now. It would sink before she saw it! That hole
must be stopped until he had drifted near enough to give vent to an
agonizing cry for help.

Having nothing else convenient, Mr. P. clapped into the hole a lot of
manuscripts which he had brought with him for consideration.
(Correspondents who may experience apparent neglect will please take
notice. It is presumed, of course, that every one who writes anything
worth reading, will keep a copy of it.)

Now the rocks were comparatively near, and standing up to his knees in
water, Mr. P. gave the appropriate heart-rending cry for succor. But in
spite of the prevailing calm, he perceived that there was a surf upon
the rocks, and a noise of many waters. At the top of his voice Mr. P.
again shouted.

"Hello, IDA!"

But he soon found that he would have to hello longer as well as hello
IDA, and he did it.

At last she heard him.

Dropping her work-basket, she ran to the edge of the rock, and making a
trumpet of her hands, called out:

"Ahoy there! What's up?"

"Me!" answered Mr. P., "but I won't be up very long. Haste to my
assistance, oh maiden! ere I sink!"

Then she shouted again:

"I've got no boat! It's over to MCCURDY's, getting caulked!"

No boat!

Then indeed did Mr. P. turn pale, and his knees did tremble.

But IDA was not to be daunted. Bounding like a chamois o'er the rocks,
to her house, she quickly returned with a long coil of rope, and
instantly hurled it over the curling breakers with such a strong arm and
true aim, that one end of it struck Mr. P. in the face with a crack like
that of a giant's whip.

He grasped the rope, and that instant his boat sank like a rock!

IDA hauled away like a steam-engine, and Mr. P.'s prow (his nose, you
know,) cut through the water like a knife, in a straight line for the
shore. In front of him he saw a great mass of sharp roots. He shuddered,
but over them he w