k?" I suggested.

"Oh, no; something that can stand the water," says he.

"Say black alpaca, with a white hat and plumes--principle and patriotism
before anything else," says I.

"That will be lovely on the blue waves," says Cousin E. E. "I will wear
a blue feather, and Cecilia shall turn up her Leghorn flat with an
anchor."

"That's just the thing," says Cousin D., with maritime enthusiasm. "I
have had the yacht painted white, and on her long white pennant you will
find a name all Vermonters love particularly, and the world generally."

"What is her name?" we all said right out at once.

"The Vermonter," says he, straightening himself up proudly.

We all sprang to out feet, and clapped our hands with the wildest
enthusiasm.

"I'm not afraid to dare the wildest storms on the ocean with that
craft," says I.

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

Sisters, it was a spontaneous outburst of pure state patriotism--even
that child Cecilia seemed to feel it--for ten minutes after she was busy
as a bee, sewing a silver anchor on her Leghorn flat, and that day, for
the first time, I kissed the child with spontaneosity.

LXXI.

YACHT-RACING.

Sisters:--When you go to a yacht-race, the first step is peculiar. You
get into a carriage or a car, and ride down to the docks. Then you steam
off in a ferry-boat to Staten Island, get into a thing they call a yawl,
which floats like a cockle-shell, and carries two or three people, and
row off to one of the cunningest, prettiest, slenderest, most
scrumptious little ships you ever set eyes on, sitting on the water like
a white duck with its wings spread.

Some black-walnut steps fell down the side, over which I climbed, with
my heart in my mouth, and jumped into a little pew, with a sofa running
round it, and some light cross-legged chairs ready for visitors.

The sun was hot overhead and up from the water, so I just went down into
the prettiest little cabin you ever saw, all finished off with shiny
wood, like a lady's bedroom, and carpeted with sky-blue, with a pale
touch of gray in it. Right by this were two lovely little bedrooms, all
blue and cloud color, with snow-white beds and cloudy curtains. There
were four beds in the cabin, too, built into the wall, and lots of
silver things were shining on brackets and silver hooks.

A sofa, all cushioned with blue, ran down each side of the cabin, and on
one of these I took my place while the rest came in.

Cousin D. had invited a d