--such a
one as now and then the changeful climate of Ireland brings forth in a
brilliancy of colour and softness of atmosphere that are rare in even
more favoured lands.

'You have a fine day of it, Maurice, and just enough wind,' said he,
looking at the point from whence it came. 'I almost wish I was going
with you.'

'And why not come, then?' asked I. 'You never will give yourself a
holiday. Do so for once, now.'

'Not to-day, anyhow,' said he, half sighing at his self-denial. 'I have
a great deal of business on my hands to-day, but the next time--the very
next you're up to a long cruise, I'll go with you.'

'That's a bargain, then?'

'A bargain. Here's my hand on it.'

We shook hands cordially on the compact. Little knew I it was to be for
the last time, and that we were never to meet again!

I was soon aboard, and with a free mainsail skimming rapidly over the
bright waters of the bay. The wind freshened as the day wore on, and
we quickly passed the Kish light-ship, and held our course boldly down
channel. The height of my enjoyment in these excursions consisted in
the unbroken quietude of mind I felt, when removed from all chance
interruption, and left free to follow out my own fancies and indulge my
dreamy conceptions to my heart's content. It was then I used to revel in
imaginings which sometimes soared into the boldest realms of ambition,
and at others strayed contemplatively in the humblest walks of obscure
fortune. My crew never broke in upon these musings; indeed, old Tom
Finerty's low crooning song rather aided than interrupted them. He was
not much given to talking, and a chance allusion to some vessel afar
off, or some headland we were passing, were about the extent of his
communicativeness, and even these often fell on my ear unnoticed.

It was thus, at night, we made the Hook Tower, and on the next day
passed, in a spanking breeze, under the bold cliffs of Tramore, just
catching, as the sun was sinking, the sight of Youghal Bay and the tall
headlands beyond it.

'The wind is drawing more to the nor'ard,' said old Tom, as night closed
in, 'and the clouds look dirty.'

'Bear her up a point or two,' said I, 'and let us stand in for Cork
Harbour if it comes on to blow.'

He muttered something in reply, but I did not catch the words, nor,
indeed, cared I to hear them, for I had just wrapped myself in my
boat-cloak, and, stretched at full length on the shingle ballast of the
yawl, was gazing in