nearly
fainting in her daughter's arms, and the poor fellow, looking back at
the three pale faces, had staggered a little in his own walk, as if
overcome by emotion, as he rallied his men for embarkation. Just as
the gang-plank slid inside upon its rollers, however, something
happened which brought back the ever-ready laughter to the girls' lips.
A young exquisite, with a monocle who had been hovering around one
party, in which were two or three pretty girls whose sly fun at his
expense he was too dense to appreciate, thought it would be a cunning
thing to fling after them the handkerchief he had pretended to drench
with regretful tears; but being very close to the edge of the wharf he
miscalculated his balance, and would have toppled into the water, but
that a burly tar, standing close by, caught him by his waistband and
dragged him back to safety, swearing a round oath at him for his
foolishness.

The poor little dandy's natty straw hat and monocle were lost, though,
but worse yet was the shout of laughter that arose from ship and shore,
at his expense, mingled with cheers for the big sailor. Crestfallen
enough, he was glad to sink back into the crowd and become
inconspicuous, for once. But no one on the steamer gave him further
attention, for, as they swung out into deep water with that majestic
motion in which a great vessel seems to courtesy to the deep, there was
too much of great interest to look at.

The girls had thoroughly examined their fine stateroom, which opened
from their father's cabin, a day or so before, and now, having hastily
deposited the cat, parrot, and luggage within in its doors, were
prepared to spend this first hour of their journey in making good use
of their eyes. It happened to be a fine day, clear and mild, with
little air stirring, and even the most tearful of the passengers soon
began to feel the influence of the fine air and lively scenes about
them.

As they passed Fort Monckton some regimental band was practising a
martial air, which came in softened strains across the water, and it
seemed as if Spithead roadway were fairly alive with craft of every
description, from a gun-ship seeking dry dock for repairs, to a slender
racing wherry, whose one occupant, bareheaded and armed, flung up an
oar in greeting, as the stately "International" steamed by.

Hope turned almost reluctantly from all this life and movement to watch
the fertile shores of the Isle of Wight, but Faith fell at