But at the wheels is Simons, a rather fresh-faced young fellow, lifting, pushing, and sweating, his lips half open and firmly set by the same resolve that caused his brow to knit, while his half-bent body expressed, "do or die," and at each furious heave the wagon moves. But just behind the wagon was a pretty little black-eyed, rosy-cheeked, plump, laughing woman. In her half-gloved little hands she held a scotch-block, and at each successful move she placed her block behind the wheel, then panted and laughed—it was Julia. In that style they continued to make the ascent, always fancying that each mountain ahead would bring them to the summit of the range, but always perceiving another still higher before them. After a few days of this kind of labor they reached the summit. Then commenced the descent, which, though also laborious, was one of mere amusement. With a long rope tied to the wagon, Simons and Julia

 

When Burleigh parted from the flower-girl, he hurried back to the Croca di Malta. At the head of the stairway, he met Captain Stewart, one of the accomplished New York shipmasters, who own and command that fleet of lightning Clippers, which have achieved for commerce what flying artillery has accomplished for the art of war. Tired of sea-life, Captain Stewart had, a few years before, exchanged the deck of his ship for a beautiful farm on the Hudson; but soon growing restive in the waveless calm of rural life, as clipper after clipper was launched from our shores to outstrip the fleets of the world, he became thoroughly discontented, and one day he surprised his wife by telling her that she must prepare a good dinner for that evening, as his friend George Stearman, the young ship-builder, was coming there to pass the night, and make the final arrangements for laying the keel of the Stormy Petrel. “For, Julia

[159] The Lady of the West, or, The Gold Seekers and Stanhope Burleigh