earnin fur tu walk? Shall that air many headed
sarpent rule us, or shall we rule it?

Haul out yer temperance pledges! Float the banner of total abstinence!
Wave high the flag of freedom; and fight long and fight well fur
freedom; from the intoxicatin cup!"

CHAPTER XXXIX.

DEATH IN MID OCEAN--LOVE MAKING AND A DOUBLE WEDDING.

"The birds are mating, and the spring will soon open, and when the
little songsters come to you, I am coming with them," wrote Little
Wolf to Mrs. Tinknor in the month of February.

So now, dear reader, let us skip the intervening months, and go half
way to meet her. Her friends having planned to carry out their promise
to Captain Green, whose acquaintance and that of his little daughter
Flora, it will be remembered, she formed on her outward trip; all we
have to do is to take passage on the steamship "Northern Star,"
Captain Green, commander, and we will soon have the pleasure of
greeting our heroine.

Little Flora, who has once more been permitted to accompany her papa,
is all impatience, and almost every hour of the day she may be heard
singing, "O dear, I am so wery, wery, anxious to see dear Miss
DeWolf," and "papa, ain't you wery, wery, anxious to see Miss DeWolf?"

The Captain assures his daughter that he is "wery anxious," and,
indeed, when he says so, his dark eyes kindle, and his fine, sunburnt
countenance glows and warms expressively under his broad brimmed hat.

The day has come at last, and Little Wolf's party are aboard, but oh,
how changed are they all!

Consumption has fastened itself upon poor Alfred Marsden. His days are
numbered, and for earth he seems to have but one desire, to see again
his childhood home, and die there. His faithful nurses, Annie and
Little Wolf, have grown pale and thin, His sister's eyes are tear
stained, and Little Wolf's also grief shaded, for together they have
watched over and tended him, striving to drive away that unseen
something, which makes his cheeks and lips so white, and takes fast
hold upon his vitals, determined to wrench him away from those he
loves.

It will not even grant his last wish; for here, in mid ocean, he
grapples with death. All day long those fair young faces have bent
over him, and his friend, the Captain, has been there with them, and
little Flora has hovered near with trembling lips, whispering softly,
"I am so wery, wery, sorry."

As the evening draws on, the sick man revives a little, and in a low,