e gentlemen resided in New York city, and volunteered to
assist him in recovering the cherished volume. When they arrived at
their destination, Harvey was not permitted to pay any portion of the
expense of the trip; and the gentlemen insisted upon his accompanying
them to the best hotel in the city, where from the abundant sympathy of
the proprietor, he was not permitted to diminish his funds by a single
dollar. Having, a few days after, obtained the fifty copies of the
newspaper which contained his account of the loss of the brig, he
started in the steamer for Boston, with a free ticket in his pocket.

His first care after he got on board the boat, was to read the narrative
he had written. He was sorely grieved to find that the first half of the
account had been struck out by the remorseless editor; but it must be
added that this portion of the history was wholly irrelevant, being made
up of observations on the outward voyage of the Waldo, and remarks upon
the geography, climate, people and institutions of Cuba. Then, in the
description of the wreck, Harvey was indignant when he found that all
his finest passages had been eliminated from the manuscript. Adjectives
and fine phrases without number had been struck out, and the poor
steward felt that he might as well never have been a schoolmaster. The
truth was, that the editor had only three columns of his paper to spare,
and all he and his readers wanted were the facts in regard to the wreck.
A vivid description of a tempest at sea seemed to be lost upon them. But
Harvey felt that he should not realize half the pleasure he had
anticipated in distributing the fifty copies of the paper among his
friends at home.

It was late at night when the No-Name arrived at her moorings in the
river at Rockhaven; for on the return trip the wind was contrary and
very light. Leopold, after this "job," had reduced his indebtedness to
Herr Schlager to about thirty-two dollars. Our space does not permit us
to follow him in the process of extinguishing the debt, but it was all
wiped out by the first of October. All the summer visitors had left the
place, and it was a "dry time" at the Cliff House. The landlord counted
up his profits, and felt rich when he realized that he owned the hotel,
did not owe a dollar to any man, and had twenty-five hundred dollars in
the bank, or otherwise available for immediate use. He had a plan drawn
for the enlargement of the hotel which would give him fifty c