port of sales
for the first day out, and turn off the lights and seek his berth for
the night.

The "Majestic" shot past Cape Cod and was plowing her way towards the
banks of Newfoundland. The strong winds were westerly and fast increasing
to a moderate gale. The north star was hidden and now failed to confirm
the accuracy of the ship's compasses.

The first and fourth officers were pacing the bridge. The latter was
glad that the engines were working at full speed, as every stroke of
the pistons carried him nearer his pretty cottage in the suburbs of
Liverpool. Captain Morgan had dropped asleep on the lounge in his cozy
room just back of the wheel. Most of the passengers and crew off duty
slept soundly, though some were dreaming of wife and children in far away
homes, and others of palaces, parks, and castles in foreign countries.

It was difficult for Mrs. Harris to get much rest as the waves dashing
against the ship often awakened her, and her thoughts would race with the
Cincinnati Express which was swiftly bearing her husband and Gertrude
back to Harrisville and perhaps to trouble and poverty. While Mrs. Harris
knew that her husband was wealthy, she was constantly troubled with fears
lest she and her family should sometime come to want. Her own father had
acquired a fortune in Ireland, but changes in the British tariff laws had
rendered him penniless, and poverty had driven her mother with seven
other children to America.

A rich uncle in Boston enabled her to get a fair education, and the early
years of her married life had been full of earnest effort, of economy and
heroic struggle, that her husband and family might gain a footing in the
world. The comforts of her early childhood in Ireland had given her a
keen relish for luxury. The pain inflicted by poverty that followed was
severely felt, and now, the pleasures of wealth again were all the more
enjoyed.

Mrs. Harris was not a church member, but woman-like she found her lips
saying, "God bless the colonel and my precious children." Then putting
her hand over upon Lucille, and satisfied that she was there by her side
and asleep, she too became drowsy and finally unconscious. Alfonso and
Leo occupied the adjoining stateroom, but both were in dreamland;
Alfonso in the art galleries of Holland and Leo in sunny Italy.

Before morning the storm center was moving rapidly down the St. Lawrence
Valley, and off the east coast of Maine. Long lines of white-capped wav