way.
And that is the famous Kittery Navy-yard!

"What do they do there, uncle?" asked the girl, after scanning the place
in search of dry-docks and vessels and the usual accompaniments of a
navy-yard.

"Oh, they make 'repairs,' principally just before an election. It is
very busy then."

"What sort of repairs?"

"Why, political repairs; they call them naval in the department. They
are always getting appropriations for them. I suppose that this country
is better off for naval repairs than any other country in the world."

"And they are done here?"

"No; they are done in the department. Here is where the voters are. You
see, we have a political navy. It costs about as much as those navies
that have ships and guns, but it is more in accord with the peaceful
spirit of the age. Did you never hear of the leading case of 'repairs'
of a government vessel here at Kittery? The 'repairs' were all done
here, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire; the vessel lay all the time at
Portsmouth, Virginia. How should the department know that there were two
places of the same name? It usually intends to have 'repairs' and the
vessel in the same navy-yard."

The steamer was gliding along over smooth water towards the seven
blessed isles, which lay there in the sun, masses of rock set in a
sea sparkling with diamond points. There were two pretty girls in the
pilot-house, and the artist thought their presence there accounted for
the serene voyage, for the masts of a wrecked schooner rising out of the
shallows to the north reminded him that this is a dangerous coast. But
he said the passengers would have a greater sense of security if the
usual placard (for the benefit of the captain) was put up: "No flirting
with the girl at the wheel."

At a distance nothing could be more barren than these islands, which
Captain John Smith and their native poet have enveloped in a halo of
romance, and it was not until the steamer was close to it that any
landing-place was visible on Appledore, the largest of the group.

The boat turned into a pretty little harbor among the rocks, and
the settlement was discovered: a long, low, old-fashioned hotel with
piazzas, and a few cottages, perched on the ledges, the door-yards of
which were perfectly ablaze with patches of flowers, masses of red,
yellow, purple-poppies, marigolds, nasturtiums, bachelor's-buttons,
lovely splashes of color against the gray lichen-covered rock. At
the landing is an interior miniature h