h my narrative.

She was damaged very seriously amidships, but my father, who had a happy
knack of turning almost everything to a good account, unless
irredeemably hopeless, was struck with a capital idea in this instance.
Instead of selling her as a worthless hulk, he had her cut in two, the
damaged timbers removed, a new length of keel laid down, and had her
lengthened about ten feet; after which operation she was as sound as
ever, and as my father had prophesied, no one recognized her again for
the same vessel.

While we were waiting for the "Kittywitch" (for that was her name) to be
run off the slips, we had plenty of time to look about us; in fact, we
spent nearly seven weeks among these lovely islands.

We explored Guernsey and Sark thoroughly, also Herm as far as we were
allowed, that island being more of a proprietary place than the others.
We also spent about ten days in Jersey, which is quite a large place in
comparison with the other islands. But of all the islands, I think Sark
carries off the palm, not that it has beauties of its own, or is grander
or more prolific, but it is an _epitome_ of all the other islands; in
fact it contains in a small space every salient feature of the Channel
Isles; the people, the granite cliffs, the bays, the caves, the hills,
the woods, the shady lanes, the sandy beaches, are all there, and the
surrounding sea is not a tone the less blue in its intensity, nor the
air a whit less balmy than that with which the other islands are
favoured.

Now it happened, while we were staying at St. Peter Port, awaiting the
re-launching of our vessel, that we made friends with the proprietor of
the island of Jethou, upon which the "Kittywich" struck, and although it
was a good three miles from St. Peter's harbour, yet we made occasional
trips to the islet when the wind was fair and the sea smooth. With this
little island of Jethou I was charmed, and fancied I could make it my
Paradise, if only I could be allowed to live there for a twelvemonth, _a
la_ Robinson Crusoe.

At this idea my father, who was a thoroughly business-like,
matter-of-fact man, set up his eyes and called me a name not at all
polite; but as he was my parent, and viewed life through older optics
than mine, I daresay he was right in the main, when he called me, to put
it mildly, a "stupid fool." But although he pooh-poohed the idea, and
bade me dismiss it from my mind, I could not help the thought entering
my brain, and