till
more powerfully and vividly in dreams. Thus did Wandering Will leave
his native land.

Commenting on his sudden departure, two days afterwards, Maryann said,
in strict confidence, to her bosom friend "Jemimar," that she "know'd it
would 'appen--or somethink simular, for, even w'en a hinfant, he had
refused to larf at her most smudgin' blandishments; and that she knew
somethink strange would come of it, though she would willingly have
given her last shilling to have prevented it, but nothink was of any use
tryin' of w'en one couldn't do it, as her 'usband, as was in the
mutton-pie line, said to the doctor the night afore he died,--and that
her 'art was quite broken about it, so it was."

Whereupon Jemima finished to the dregs her last cup of tea, and burst
into a flood of tears.

CHAPTER THREE.

TELLS OF THE SEA, AND SOME OF THE MYSTERIES CONNECTED THEREWITH.

For many days and nights the good ship _Foam_ sailed the wide ocean
without encountering anything more than the ordinary vicissitudes and
experiences of sea-life. Dolphins were seen and captured, sharks were
fished for and caught, stiff breezes and calms succeeded each other,
constellations in the far north began to disappear and new
constellations arose in the southern skies. In fact, during many weeks
the voyage was prosperous, and young Will Osten began to experience
those peculiar feelings with which all travellers are more or less
acquainted--he felt that the ship was "home"; that his cabin with its
furniture, which had appeared so small and confined at first, was quite
a large and roomy place; that all the things about him were positive
realities, and that the home of his childhood was a shadow of the past--
a sort of dream.

During all this time the young doctor led a busy life. He was one of
those active, intelligent, inquiring spirits which cannot rest. To
acquire information was with him not a duty, but a pleasure. Before he
had been many days at sea he knew the name and use of every rope, sail,
block, tackle, and spar in the ship, and made himself quite a favourite
with the men by the earnestness with which he questioned them in regard
to nautical matters and their own personal experiences. George Goff,
the sail-maker, said he "was a fust-rate feller;" and Larry O'Hale, the
cook, declared, "he was a trump intirely, an' ought to have been born an
Irishman." Moreover, the affections of long Mr Cupples (as the first
mate was styled