“I’ll see about that when the time comes. Now we will adjourn to my solicitor’s office. I shall demand that this bottle of rum be placed in a safe position before I go further. It makes my blood run cold to see the careless way you hold it.” * * * * * Thus did prosperity and unlooked-for happiness crown the last days of “San Francisco,” and brighten the wedded life of “Star o’ Boston” and her merhusband. But, unfortunately for himself, “Lord Aberdeen” came badly out of the transaction after all. He made good his promises, acquired the bottle of rum, and reached that supreme moment when he opened it to have his first nautilus-shell full. Then a strange thing transpired, for though the bottle was labelled “Rum” in large letters, its contents resembled neither rum nor any other liquor. There was only a piece of crumpled paper inside it with words written thereon. “Lord Aberdeen” gazed blankly at the scrawl, then gave full play to his vile and varied vocabulary. “_‘Flying Fish’ struck on unknown rock or wreck. Going down fast. God have mercy upon us! John Ladywell, Master. (Wife, child, and six hands aboard.)_” Three merjudges tried the action brought against “Star o’ Boston,” and the defendant won her case and costs. It was argued, you see, that a corked bottle labelled “Rum” might reasonably be supposed to contain that liquid. The bargain had been carried out in good faith. “In fact,” said the President of the Tribunal, “‘_Caveat emptor_’ sums up the position. ‘Lord Aberdeen’ has been unfortunate and is the victim of chance; but it cannot be considered or justly argued that any criminal attempt was made to obtain from him money or property under false pretences. As to the real contents of the rum bottle, it would appear that one John Ladywell, finding his ship going down under him, and knowing that death lay hidden in the deep water and the grey sharks which live beneath it, conceived the idea of recording the sudden end which he saw was now to fall upon himself, his wife, child, and the six seamen of the ‘Flying Fish.’ Had the bottle not gone down with him, clenched to his breast in his last agony, it might have floated away and reached some shore whereon the Upper People congregate. But it sank instead. Hence a natural and unfortunate confusion.” So that is the end of this mer-story, and I shall only add that “Star o’ Boston” and “Theodore H. Jackson” lived mighty happily ever afterwards, though “Lord Aberdeen” sent no wedding present. Anon a merbaby was born to them, and they called her “Flying Fish” in memory of a great experience. Their narrative is perhaps interesting from some points of view, for it shows that deep-sea researches are as yet quite incomplete, so far at least as the Caribbean is concerned; and it also indicates that, assert what people may to the contrary, fiction is still frequently stranger than fact. THE SACRIFICE