ration and boundless love. When Sabella went to school, the
Captain's business kept him within sight of the school-house; and when
school was out, the little girl was nowhere happier than in his
company. For her sake he was the friend of her friends, and among the
children of Dubuque no one was so popular as Cap'n Cod. They did not
live in the city, but on a small farm a few miles from it, and this
Cap'n Cod was supposed to manage. Farming was, however, the one
occupation for which he had no taste, and but for his capable niece the
annual crops would not have paid the expense of raising them.

When Sabella was twelve years old and rapidly developing into beautiful
girlhood, her mother died, leaving her and her little property to the
unrestricted guardianship of Cap'n Cod. Now matters went from bad to
worse so far as the farm was concerned, until, to save it from the
hammer, it was deemed best to rent it to a more practical farmer than
the child's devoted guardian.

This gave Cap'n Cod the opportunity and an excuse for carrying out a
cherished scheme that, but for the opposition of his niece, he would
have put into operation long before. It was the painting of a
panorama, the building of a boat to hold it, and thus equipped, to
float away down the great river in search of fame and fortune. Now
Sabella must of course be included in the plan; for not only did she
and Cap'n Cod consider it impossible to get along without each other,
but the latter declared that such a bit of travel would be the very
best kind of an education for his grand-niece.

This scheme had been in the old man's mind for so long that the
panorama, worked on at odd moments for more than two years, was nearly
finished at the time of his niece's death. With his own savings, and
largely by his own labor, he now built his boat, the _Whatnot_. When
she was completed, his money was gone. But what of that? Was he not
prepared to realize a fortune? He knew that it would shortly be
theirs, and Sabella's faith was strong as his. She never for a moment
doubted that her dear guardian was the artist he claimed to be, or that
the panorama he had painted was the most perfect thing of its kind ever
seen. So she was as enthusiastic concerning the project as the old man
himself, and eagerly aided in his preparations to the full extent of
her ability. There was but one point on which they disagreed. When
Cap'n Cod had exhausted his own resources, and the