At the hotel near the seaside, where I staid last summer, there was a little fellow who was known to the guests as Captain Bob. He was from the West, where he had never seen a large sheet of water. But, at his first sight of old Ocean, he gave him his heart. Old Ocean seemed to return the tender liking; for he was very kind to Captain Bob, who was nearly all day at the seaside, running some sort of risk. There was nobody to prevent his going in to swim as often as he chose. Nobody had taught Captain Bob to swim. How he learned he could not explain. He was always ready to venture into a boat. He took to sculling and rowing quite as naturally as a duck takes to swimming. One morning, we were all made sad by the report that Captain Bob was missing. He had not been seen since noon the previous day. Messengers were sent in every direction to make inquiries after the captain. Several persons said, that, the last they had seen of him, he was standing by the big post on the wharf, with a little boat in his hand that an old sailor had made for him. Two days were at an end, and still there was no news of Captain Bob. His parents and friends were greatly distressed. But, on the morning of the third day, there was a shout from some of the gentlemen on the piazza; and, on hastening to find out what was the matter, whom should I see but Captain Bob, borne on the shoulders of two young men, and waving his cap over his head. Bob's story was this: A mackerel-schooner was anchored off shore; and Bob had persuaded the sailor, who had given him the toy-boat, to take him on board. The sailor had done this, not suspecting what was to happen. A school of mackerel had been seen; and, as the breeze was fair, the skipper spread all sail, and was soon five miles off shore. The mackerel were so plenty that the fishermen made the most of their luck, and did not return to the shore near the hotel till the third day. "Did you have a good time, captain?" I asked. "A _good_ time!" exclaimed Captain Bob. "It was the jolliest time I ever had. You should have seen me pull in the fish." After this adventure, Captain Bob was more of a hero than ever among the people of the hotel. EMILY CARTER. [Illustration] "PAPA CAN'T FIND ME." No little steps do I hear in the hall; Only a sweet silver laugh, that is all. No dimpled arms round my neck hold me tight; I've but a glimpse of two eyes very bright. Two little hands a wee face try to screen: Baby is hiding, that's plain to be seen. "Where is my precious I've missed so all day?" "Papa can't find me!" the pretty lips say. "Dear me! I wonder where baby can be!" Then I go by, and pretend not to see. "Not in the parlor, and not on the stairs? Then I must peep under sofas and chairs." The dear little rogue is now laughing outright, Two little arms round my neck clasp me tight. Home will indeed be sad, weary, and lone, When papa can't find you, my darling, my own.