moon. These verdant islands are of every size
and form. Some lying in clusters like the 'solitary set in families:'
and some like beautiful vestals in single loveliness. Some stretching
for miles in length, and some so small, and without a tree or shrub,
that they look like lawns destined for fairy sporting grounds; while
others are encircled by such an impenetrable growth of trees, that one
might fancy that within this sylvan barrier wood-nymphs held their
courts and revels; in short, might fancy any thing; for there are no
traces of human footsteps to break the spell of imagination, save where
the fisherman's hut, placed on the brink of the element by which he
lives, is disclosed with its dark relief of unbroken woods by the bright
glare of the pine torch, which is his beacon light, and which serves to
show the gleaming path-way of his little canoe. Jemmy recounted to the
children the sad mishaps and disastrous chances that had befallen
unskilful or unfortunate navigators in these dangerous passes, and the
kind captain repeatedly fired his signal gun, which seemed to wake the
spirits of these deep solitudes, to send back the greeting in echo and
re-echo, till their voices died away on the most distant shores.

"Don't they hollow well?" said Jemmy, after the last report, turning
briskly around to dame Barton who sat near him.

"Well, I did not hear them," said she, mournfully.

"Not hear them--why, they spoke as plain as preaching--are you deaf,
good woman?"

"Deaf! oh, no--but my thoughts were far from here."

Mrs. Sackville thought there was something in Mrs. Barton's devotedness
to her husband, not common in her class of life. She had been deterred
from putting any questions to her, by the habitual silence and diffidence
of the poor woman. But now they had become so much more acquainted, that
she ventured to say to her, "Come, Mrs. Barton, suppose you favor us
while we sit here, with a little history of your life. My children are
so much interested in you, that they want to know all they can about
you."

"Oh, you are very good ma'am to say so; but what is there in the history
of the like of me to tell? not that I have any objection to make known
my story--thank God, that's kept me in his fear--but then what happens
to poor plain bodies like me, is not made much count of in the world."

"But, remember, my good friend," said Mrs. Sackville, "the happiness of
all his creatures, rich and poor, is of equal account