The sea was just as smooth as glass!

And the wind all died away!

There was not enough left to ruffle a squirrel’s tail.  How absurd the situation!  How could he ever be dashed helpless upon the rocks under such circumstances?

The tide was setting in, and as he gradually drifted towards the land, he saw the storied rocks, and even perceived Miss IDA, sitting upon a shady prominence, crocheting a tidy.

What should he do to attract her attention?  How put himself in imminent peril?  His anxiety for a time was dreadful, but he thought of a plan.  He got out his knife and whittled the mast half through.

“Now,” thought he, “if my mast and rigging go by the board, she will surely come and rescue me!”

But the mast and rigging were as obstinate as outside speculators in Wall street,—­they would not go by the board,—­and Mr. P. was obliged at last to break down the mast by main force.  But the lady heard not the awful crash, and little weened that a fellow-being was out alone on the wild watery waste, in a shipwrecked bark!  After waiting for some time, that she might ween this terrible truth, Mr. P, concluded that there was nothing to do but to spring a leak.

But he found this difficult.  Kick as hard as he might, he could not loosen a bottom board.  And he had no auger!  The Lime Rocks were getting nearer and nearer.  Would he drift safely ashore?

“Oh! how can I wreck myself, ’ere it be too late?” he cried, in the agony of his heart.  Wild with apprehensions of reaching the land without danger, he sat down and madly whittled a hole in the bottom of the boat, making it, as nearly as possible, such a one as a sword fish would be likely to cut.  When he got it done, the water bubbled through it like an oil-well.  In fact, Mr. P. was afraid that his vessel would fill up before he was near enough for the maiden on the rocks to hear his heart-rending cries for succor.  He could see her plainly now.  ’Twas certainly she.  He knew her by her photograph—­("Twenty-five cents, sir.  The American female GRACE DARLING, sir.  Likeness warranted, sir.”)

But she turned not towards him.  Confound it!  Would she finish that eternal tidy ere she glanced around?

The boat was almost full now.  It would sink before she saw it!  That hole must be stopped until he had drifted near enough to give vent to an agonizing cry for help.

Having nothing else convenient, Mr. P. clapped into the hole a lot of manuscripts which he had brought with him for consideration.  (Correspondents who may experience apparent neglect will please take notice.  It is presumed, of course, that every one who writes anything worth reading, will keep a copy of it.)

Now the rocks were comparatively near, and standing up to his knees in water, Mr. P. gave the appropriate heart-rending cry for succor.  But in spite of the prevailing calm, he perceived that there was a surf upon the rocks, and a noise of many waters.  At the top of his voice Mr. P. again shouted.