“When I first fled from the roof of a tyrannical parent I loved the beautiful and accomplished Eliza J. Sniffen. Her father was president of the Workingmen’s Savings Bank, and it was perfectly understood that in the course of time the entire deposits would be his. But, like a vain fool, I wished to anticipate the future, and in a wild moment persuaded Miss Sniffen to elope with me; and with the entire cash assets of the bank, we fled together.” He paused, overcome with emotion. “But fate decreed it otherwise. In my feverish haste, I had forgotten to place among the stores of my pirate craft that peculiar kind of chocolate caramel to which Eliza Jane was most partial. We were obliged to put into New Rochelle on the second day out, to enable Miss Sniffen to procure that delicacy at the nearest confectioner’s, and match some zephyr worsteds at the first fancy shop. Fatal mistake. She went—she never returned!” In a moment he resumed, in a choking voice, “After a week’s weary waiting, I was obliged to put to sea again, bearing a broken heart and the broken bank of her father. I have never seen her since.” “And you still love her?” asked the Amazon queen excitedly. “Ay, forever!” “Noble youth. Here, take the reward of thy fidelity; for know, Bromley Chitterlings, that I am Eliza Jane. Wearied with waiting, I embarked on a Peruvian guano ship—it’s a long story, dear.” “And altogether too thin,” said the Boy Avenger, fiercely releasing himself from her encircling arms. “Eliza Jane’s age, a year ago, was only thirteen, and you are forty, if a day.” “True,” she returned sadly, “but I have suffered much, and time passes rapidly, and I’ve grown. You would scarcely believe that this is my own hair.” “I know not,” he replied, in gloomy abstraction. “Forgive my deceit,” she returned. “If you are affianced to another, let me at least be—a mother to you.” The Pirate Prodigy started, and tears came to his eyes. The scene was affecting in the extreme. Several of the oldest seamen—men who had gone through scenes of suffering with tearless eyes and unblanched cheeks—now retired to the spirit room to conceal their emotion. A few went into caucus in the forecastle, and returned with the request that the Amazonian queen should hereafter be known as the “Queen of the Pirates’ Isle.” “Mother!” gasped the Pirate Prodigy. “My son!” screamed the Amazonian queen. They embraced. At the same moment a loud flop was heard on the quarter-deck. It was the forgotten mermaid, who, emerging from her stateroom, and ascending the companion-way at that moment, had fainted at the spectacle. The Pirate Prodigy rushed to her side with a bottle of smelling-salts. She recovered slowly. “Permit me,” she said, rising with dignity, “to leave the ship. I am unaccustomed, to such conduct.” “Hear me—she is my mother!”