"Mr. Dove! Mr. Dove! you will be left!" cried Pate, as Theodosia led her husband down the steps. "I can't go; I am married," said poor Dove, as his wife conducted him to the carriage. "Indeed, Mr. Bliss, you will be left behind!" said Pate, as Bliss and his bride descended the steps. "I can't go; I am married," said the little man, dolefully, as Sophonisba led him to the carriage. "All married!" exclaimed Wiggins. "What does it mean?" said Pate. "Good-by, Hercules," said Gideon. "God bless you, my son," said Mrs. Foot. And she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Good-by, father! good-by, mother!" said Hercules. And then he rushed to one of the carriages, and putting in his head, exclaimed, "Good-by, sisters! good-by, little brothers!" The three brides kissed Hercules and wept, while their husbands shook him by the hand. After many fond embraces and wishes for his welfare the carriages were driven off, leaving Hercules standing in the street, with Wiggins and Pate gazing up at him with looks of perplexity. "Are you going to California?" asked Pate. "I am," said the giant, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And Love, Dove, and Bliss are not going?" said Wiggins. "No; they have married my sisters, and are going home to be happy," said Hercules. And he wiped away some more tears that came into his eyes. "What made them marry your sisters?" asked Pate. "I reckon it was because they loved them," said Hercules. "They should have given us notice," said Wiggins. "We have lost three men from our company," said Pate. "Did my little brothers belong to your company?" asked Hercules. "They did," said Pate. "And have left us without giving notice," said Wiggins. "Will you take me in their places?" said Hercules. "I can dig more gold than they could." "Will you join our company?" asked Pate. "Yes, if you will give me as much gold as my three little brothers were to get. I can do more digging than all three of them." "So he can," said Wiggins. "I have no doubt of it," said Pate, looking at the towering form and broad shoulders of the giant with enthusiastic admiration. After a brief conference, the proposition of Hercules was acceded to, and the three gold-hunters hurried on board the vessel, which was about to spread her white wings, and proceed on her way to the land where rivers were said to be rolling between banks of golden sands, which glittered in the last rays of the setting sun. CHAPTER XXXVI. As the ship moved away from the wharf, and was towed by the steam-tug into the stream, M. T. Pate stood upon the deck, humming a stanza of Byron's celebrated adieu to his native land, when he heard a strain of music as if coming from the clouds. From the foretop, in clear and mellifluous tones, was heard the following melody: Farewell! farewell! but ever, When wand'ring o'er the sea, Though worlds of water sever, This heart shall turn to thee.