Beadle's Dime Novels No. 131 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RESTLESSNESS. , 13 loved and married her, and liyed happily with her many years ; and she, too, was now gone, There was a warm place in the merchant’s heart for the expected guest; he was sadly troubled at the state of affairs this stormy night. Whatif his own Katie had been out on the ocean, or in the doomed ship? He made the danger his own, when he thought of the boy, forgetting the China silks, the Thibet cashmeres, the. precious spices, and the costly ves- sel. “T feel that I can not wait until morning,” he, said, to the colored seryant, who came in to hear if he had any orders. “Oh, Massa Wetmore, what could you do? You would catch your def of cold, ridin’ out in dis sleet. An’ you wouldn’t get dar no quicker, after all.” “ Well, I don’t know that I would. Haye a cup of coffee for me, at the first ray of Gay bper, for I shall be off as early as possible.” For many hours ‘the merchant wandered restlessly about the house, sitting down only to rise again with every fresh burst of the tempest. He dozed an hour or two. on the library lounge, dreaming of elephants and Anna, of drowning, of the five-story brown stone wholesale house on Murray street, tossed about and going to pieces, stone by stone and brick by brick, on an icy ocean. Finally, by a gray pallor which crept in at the shutters, he knew it must be morning; but there was no gleam of sunlight —the wind still beat mightily from the nerth-east, hurling the keen slect through the dim dawn. CHAPTER II. THE JOLLY JACK AND THE SIGNAL GUN. Aut day, of the day preceding the wild night of which we haye spoken, that fierce north-easter had blown the tossed and torn waters of the Atlantic on to the low, gray sands of the Jersey shore. Great, glassy, green walls were continually > QO conmicldoolkks.cGonn