e race, stands far inland, and belongs to Sir Francis,
the Admiral's elder brother.

When the tides were at their spring, and the year 1802 of our era in
the same condition, Horatia Dorothy Darling, younger daughter of the
aforesaid Admiral, choosing a very quiet path among thick shrubs and
under-wood, came all alone to a wooden building, which her father called
his Round-house. In the war, which had been patched over now, but would
very soon break out again, that veteran officer held command of the
coast defense (westward of Nelson's charge) from Beachy Head to Selsey
Bill. No real danger had existed then, and no solid intent of invasion,
but many sharp outlooks had been set up, and among them was this at
Springhaven.

Here was established under thatch, and with sliding lights before it,
the Admiral's favorite Munich glass, mounted by an old ship's carpenter
(who had followed the fortunes of his captain) on a stand which would
have puzzled anybody but the maker, with the added security of a lanyard
from the roof. The gear, though rough, was very strong and solid,
and afforded more range and firmer rest to the seven-feet tube and
adjustments than a costly mounting by a London optician would have been
likely to supply. It was a pleasure to look through such a glass, so
clear, and full of light, and firm; and one who could have borne to
be looked at through it, or examined even by a microscope, came now to
enjoy that pleasure.

Miss Dolly Darling could not be happy--though her chief point was to
be so--without a little bit of excitement, though it were of her own
construction. Her imagination, being bright and tender and lively,
rather than powerful, was compelled to make its own material, out of
very little stuff sometimes. She was always longing for something sweet
and thrilling and romantic, and what chance of finding it in this
dull place, even with the longest telescope? For the war, with all its
stirring rumors and perpetual motion on shore and sea, and access of
gallant visitors, was gone for the moment, and dull peace was signed.

This evening, as yet, there seemed little chance of anything to enliven
her. The village, in the valley and up the stream, was hidden by turns
of the land and trees; her father's house beneath the hill crest was out
of sight and hearing; not even a child was on the beach; and the only
movement was of wavelets leisurely advancing toward the sea-wall fringed
with tamarisk. The only thi