hat I should in after life meet any reverse, I
might bear it without repining, and say, with all humility, "Thy will
and not mine, O Lord, be done!"

How bright was the next morning, and how cheerful did the dancing waves
appear to me!--and Bessy's eyes were radiant as the day, and her smiles
followed in rapid succession; and Bramble looked so many years
younger--he was almost too happy to smoke--it was really the sunshine of
the heart which illumined our cottage. And thus did the few days pass,
until Anderson and my father made their appearance. They were both
surprised at Bessy's beauty, and told me so. They had heard that she was
handsome, but they were not prepared for her uncommon style; for now
that her countenance was lighted up with joy, she was indeed lovely.

"Well, Tom," observed my father, "there's only one thing which surprises
me."

"What is that?"

"Why, how, with such a fine craft in view, you could ever have sailed in
the wake of such a little privateer as--but I must not mention
her--never mind, don't answer me that--but another question--when are
you going to be spliced?"

"Very soon, I hope; but I really don't exactly know. All I can say is
the sooner the better."

"And so say I. Shall I bring up the subject on the plea of my leave
being only for ten days?"

"Yes, father, I wish you would, as it is really a good reason to allege
for its taking place immediately."

"Tom, my dear boy," said old Anderson, "from what I can perceive, you
have great reason to be thankful in having obtained this young woman for
your future partner in life. I admire her exceedingly, and I trust in
Heaven that you will be happy."

"I ought to be," replied I, "and grateful also particularly to you, to
whom, under Providence, I am so much indebted."

"If the seed is sown upon good ground, it will always yield a good
harvest, Tom. You are a proof of it, so thank Heaven, and not me. I wish
to tell you what your father has mentioned to me. The fact is, Tom, he
is in what may be called a false position at Greenwich. He is a
pensioner, and has now sufficient not to require the charity, and he
thinks that he ought not to avail himself of it, now that you have made
him independent; but if he leaves the hospital and remains at Greenwich,
he and your mother would not agree well together. They are very good
friends at a certain distance, but I do not think, with her high
notions, that they could ever live together in the sam