That my spotless little daughter,
   My white lamb, my pretty flower,
Should be placed—would God permit it?—
   In a wicked wanton's power.

Then the spirit which upheld me
   Sank, succumb'd; for I foresaw
That he could take her; for—I knew it—
   Such was merry England's law.

But the God who saved his servants
   In the furnace' fiery breath,
Saved me and my little daughter
   From this evil, worse than death.

Tidings to a friend of childhood
   Of me, desolated, sped;
Gold he sent, so I and baby,
   Unknown to my tyrant fled.

We were shelter'd, welcomed, cared for,
   In that island of the sea;
And soft peace, like morning sunshine,
   Kiss'd away the tears from me.

Look around! behold the waters!
   Clear thou know'st each drop to be;
Yet the expanse how dark appearing
   Dark from its profundity.

Thus the ways of God to fathom,
   Are on earth to man denied;
We shall know and praise hereafter:
   Old man,—my dear baby died.

And, since that, up life's steep mountain
   On sharp stones the way has been,
Often stumbling, falling, fainting,
   But upraised by the Unseen.

I've endured humiliation,
   Toiling for my daily bread;
In that bondage "task delightful"
   One who never tried it, said.

Of my husband? Once in sickness,
   Faint, upon my bed I lay;
Hoping every earthly sorrow
   Would, ere long, depart away.

Thus, I wrote,—" From one another,
   We through life must sunder' d be;
Yet, once so beloved, my husband,
   I would die at peace with thee.

"Thou hast my existence cover'd
   With a black funereal pall,
But, adored of life's fresh memory,
   Freely I forgive thee all.

"All the scorn, injustice, anguish,
   Press'd so sore into my heart,
I forgive—completely, freely.
   Be there peace ere I depart!" ,

This was sent, and, in due season,
   Came his answer o'er the main;
From my bed I had uprisen;
   But it smote me down again.

Cruel was it? harsh, remorseless,
   Wine distill'd from grapes of gall;
Oh for Lethe's fabled waters!
   Drinking to forget it all.

Therefore is it, brave old soldier,
   That, when all on board are glad
To approach our merry England,
   I alone am pale and sad.

THE CRUISE OF THE TOMTIT.

"AT any other time of the year and for a shorter
cruise, I should be delighted to join you. But as I
prefer dying a dry death, I must decline accompanying
you all the way to the Scilly Islands in a little pleasure
boat of thirteen tons, just at the time of the autumnal
equinox. You may meet with a gale that will blow
you out of the water. You are running a risk, in my
opinion, of the most senseless kind and, if I thought
my advice had any weight with you, I should say most
earnestly, be warned in time, and give up the trip."
Extract from the letter of A Prudent Friend.

"If I were only a single man, there is nothing I
should like better than to join you. But I have
a wife and family, and I can't reconcile it to my
conscience to risk being drowned." Report from the
Farewell Speech of A Prudent Friend.

"Don't come back bottom upwards." Condensation
of the Valedictory Blessings of several Prudent
Friends.

We received the enlivening expressions of
opinion quoted above, with the perfect politeness
which distinguishes us both. At the
same time, with the firm resolution which
forms another marked trait in our
respective characters, we held to our original
determination, engaged the boat and the
crew, and put to sea on our appointed
day, in the teeth of the wind and of our
friends' objections. But before I float the
present narrative into blue water, I have
certain indispensable formalities to accomplish
which will keep me and my readers for
a little while yet on dry land. First of all,
let me introduce our boat, our crew, and
ourselves.

Our boat is named the Tomtit. She is
cutter-rigged. Her utmost length from stem
to stern is thirty-six feet, and her greatest
breadth on deck is ten feet. As her size does
not admit of bulwarks, her deck, between the
cabin-hatch and the stern, dips into a kind of
well, with seats round three sides of it, which
we call the Cockpit. Here we can stand up
in rough weather without any danger of
being rolled overboard; elsewhere, the sides
of the vessel do not rise more than a few
inches above the deck. The cabin of the
Tomtit is twelve feet long, eight feet wide,
and five feet six inches deep. It has roomy
lockers, and a snug little fireplace, and it
leads into two recesses forward, which make
capital storerooms for water, coals, firewood,
and so forth. When I have added that the
Tomtit has a bright red bottom, continued, as
to colour, up her sides to a little above the
water-mark; and when I have further stated
that she is a fast sailer, and that she proved
herself on our cruise to be a capital little sea-
boat, I have said all that is needful at present
on the subject of our yacht, and may get on
to our crew and ourselves.