The dear little girls were not long in guessing this ingenious enigma
and while they were rejoicing over their success, Mr. P. was suddenly
addressed by a man who had been standing behind him. Starting
little, he turned around and was thus addressed by his unknown
listener.
"Sir," said that individual, "do I understand you to mean that the
Congress of the United States is a useless expense?"
"Well, sir," said Mr. P., with a smile, "as it costs a great deal and
does very little, I cannot but think it is both useless and expensive."
"Then sir," said the other, "you must think the whole institution is a
nuisance generally."
"You put it very strongly," said Mr. P., "but I fear that you are about
right."
"Sir!" cried the gentleman, his face beaming with an indescribable
expression. "Give me your hand! I am glad to know you. I agree with you
exactly. My name is WHITTEMORE."
But Mr. P. did not waste all his time in talking to strangers and
concocting enigmas. He had come to Newport with a purpose. It was none
of the ordinary purposes of watering place visitors. These he could
carry out elsewhere.
His object in coming here was grand, unusual and romantic. _He came to
be rescued by IDA LEWIS!_
It was not easy to devise a plan for this noble design, and it was not
until the morning of the second day of his visit, that Mr. P. was ready
for the adventure. Then he hired a boat, and set sail, alone, o'er the
boundless bosom of the Atlantic.
He had not sailed more than a few hours on said boundless bosom, before
he turned his prow back towards land,--towards the far-famed Lime Rocks,
on which the intrepid heroine dwells. He had thought of being wrecked at
night, but fearing that IDA might not be able to find him in the dark,
he gave up this idea. His present intention was that Miss LEWIS should
believe him to be a lonely mariner from a far distance, tossed by the
angry waves upon her rock-bound coast But there was a certain difficulty
in the way, which Mr. P. feared would prove fatal to his hopes.
The sea was just as smooth as glass!
And the wind all died away!
There was not enough left to ruffle a squirrel's tail. How absurd the
situation! How could he ever be dashed helpless upon the rocks under
such circumstances?
The tide was setting in, and as he gradually drifted towards the land,
he saw the storied rocks, and even perceived Miss IDA, sitting upon a
shady prominence, crocheting a tidy.
What should he do to attract her attention? How put himself in imminent
peril? His anxiety for a time was dreadful, but he thought of a plan. He
got out his knife and whittled the mast half through.
"Now," thought he, "if my mast and rigging go by the board, she will
surely come and rescue me!"
But the mast and rigging were as obstinate as outside speculators in
Wall street,--they would not go by the board,--and Mr. P. was obliged at
last to break down the mast by main force. But the lady heard not the
awful crash, and little weened that a fellow-being was out alone on the
wild watery waste, in a shipwrecked bark! After waiting for some time,
that she might ween this terrible truth, Mr. P, concluded that there was
nothing to do but to spring a leak.
But he found this difficult. Kick as hard as he might, he could not
loosen a bottom board. And he had no auger! The Lime Rocks were getting
nearer and nearer. Would he drift safely ashore?
"Oh! how can I wreck myself, 'ere it be too late?" he cried, in the
agony of his heart. Wild with apprehensions of reaching the land without
danger, he sat down and madly whittled a hole in the bottom of the boat,
making it, as nearly as possible, such a one as a sword 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 went. On, on, he went, nor turned aside for jagged
cleft or sharp-edged stone. A ship, loaded with queensware, had been
wrecked near shore, and through a vast mass of broken plates, and cups,
and saucers, Mr. P. went,--straight and swift as an arrow.
At last, wet, bleeding, ragged, scratched, and feint, he reached the
shore. Said IDA, as she supported him towards her dwelling: "How did you
ever come to be wrecked on such a day as this?"
Mr. P. hesitated. But with such a noble creature, the truth would surely
be the best. He told her all.
"Oh!" said he. "Dear girl, 'twas I, myself, who hewed down my mast and
scuttled my fair bark. And I did it, maiden fair! that thy brave arm
might rescue me from the watery deep, (you know what a good thing it
would be for both of us when it got in the papers,) and that on thy
hardy bosom I might be borne--"
"Born jackass!" interrupted IDA. "I believe that everybody who comes to
Newport make fools of themselves about me; but you are certainly the
Champion Fool of the Lime Rocks."
Mr. P. couldn't deny it.
* * * * *
Alphabetical.
From the insult passed upon Count BENDETTI, at Ems, it appears that the
Prussian government does not always mind its P's and Q's.
* * * * *