st time
in her Scharazad-like powers of narration.

"Let it be about a Home, please; if you can," said Ida.

"A home!" said the old lady, and strangely enough, she seemed more
agitated than when she had spoken of Reka Dom--"It should have begun
with a broken home, but it shall not. It should end with a united
home, God willing. A home! I must begin with a far-away one, a strange
one, on the summit of high cliffs, the home of fearless, powerful
creatures, white-winged like angels."

"It's a fairy tale," said Ida.

"No, my child, it is true."

"It sounds like a fairy tale," Ida said.

"It shall be a tale of that description, if you like," said the old
lady, after a pause, "but, as I said, the main incidents are true."

"And the white-winged creatures?" Ida asked. "Were they fairies?"

"No, my love; birds. But if to see snowy albatrosses with their huge
white wings wheeling in circles about a vessel sailing in mid ocean be
anything like what I have read of and heard described, fairyland could
hardly show anything more beautiful and impressive."

"Do they fly near ships, then?" Ida asked.

"Yes, my child. I remember my husband describing them to me as he had
once seen them in southern seas. He said that when he saw them,
great, white, and majestic, holding no intercourse with anyone on
board the ship, and yet spreading their wings above her day and night
for hundreds of miles over the ocean, with folded feet, the huge white
pinions, except for an occasional flap, outstretched in steady sail,
never resting, and seemingly never weary, they looked like guardian
angels keeping watch over the crew."

"I wonder if they are sorry for the ships that go down?" said Ida,
thoughtfully.

Mrs. Overtheway took her hand.

"Do you think it unkind in me to talk of ships, my love?" she asked.

"No, no, no!" Ida exclaimed, "I don't mind _your_ talking about it. I
wish I could talk to the birds that saw papa's ship go down, if there
were any, and ask them how it was, and if he minded it much, and if he
remembered me. I used to wish I had been with him, and one night I
dreamed about it; but when the water touched me, I was frightened, and
screamed, and woke; and then I was glad I hadn't been there, for
perhaps he wouldn't have loved me so much if he had seen that I wasn't
brave."

The little old lady kissed her tenderly.

"And now the story, please," said Ida, after a pause.

And Mrs. Overtheway began the following story: