The brig had gone ashore fully two miles within the passage she had entered, and which, indeed, terminated at the very spot where she had struck. The Poughkeepsie was standing off and on, in the main channel, with her boats in the water, evidently preparing to carry the brig in that mode. As for the breakers, they whitened the surface of the ocean in all directions around the wreck, far as the eye could reach, but in two. The passage in which the Poughkeepsie was standing to and fro was clear of them, of course; and about a mile and a half to the northward, Spike saw that he should be in open water, or altogether on the northern side of the reef, could he only get there. The gravest dangers would exist in the passage, which led among breakers on all sides, and very possibly among rocks so near the surface as to absolutely obstruct the way. In one sense, however, the breakers were useful. By avoiding them as much as possible, and by keeping in the unbroken water, the boat would be running in the channels of the reef, and consequently would be the safer. The result of the survey, short as it was, and it did not last a minute, was to give Spike something like a plan; and when he went over the side, and got into the boat, it was with a determination to work his way out of the reef to its northern edge, as soon as possible, and then to skirt it as near as he could, in his flight toward the Dry Tortugas. [_To be continued._ * * * * * BLIND! BY MRS. JOSEPH C. NEAL. PART I. The hand of the operator wavered—the instrument glanced aside—in a moment she was blind for life. MS. Blind, said you? Blind for life! ’Tis but a jest—no, no, it cannot be That I no more the blessed light may see! Oh, what a fearful strife Of horrid thought is raging in my mind. I did not hear aright—“forever blind!” Mother, you would not speak Aught but the truth to me, your stricken child; Tell me I do but dream; my brain is wild, And yet my heart is weak. Oh, mother, fold me in a close embrace, Bend down to me that dear, that gentle face. I cannot hear your voice! Speak louder, mother. Speak to me, and say This frightful dream will quickly pass away. Have I no hope, no choice? Oh, Heaven, with light, has sound, too, from me fled! Call, shout aloud, as if to wake the dead. Thank God! I hear you now. I hear the beating of your troubled heart, With every wo of mine it has a part; Upon my upturned brow The hot tears fall, from those dear eyes, for me. Once more, oh is it true I may not see?