ndays, when heaven and earth seemed alike
propitious. A person can well afford to wear homespun stuff to meeting,
who is buoyed up by a secret consciousness of an abundance of fine
things that could be worn, if one were so disposed, and everybody
respected Mrs. Pennel's homespun the more, because they thought of the
things she didn't wear.

As to advantages of education, the island, like all other New England
districts, had its common school, where one got the key of
knowledge,--for having learned to read, write, and cipher, the young
fellow of those regions commonly regarded himself as in possession of
all that a man needs, to help himself to any further acquisitions he
might desire. The boys then made fishing voyages to the Banks, and those
who were so disposed took their books with them. If a boy did not wish
to be bored with study, there was nobody to force him; but if a bright
one saw visions of future success in life lying through the avenues of
knowledge, he found many a leisure hour to pore over his books, and work
out the problems of navigation directly over the element they were meant
to control.

Four years having glided by since the commencement of our story, we find
in the brown house of Zephaniah Pennel a tall, well-knit, handsome boy
of ten years, who knows no fear of wind or sea; who can set you over
from Orr's Island to Harpswell, either in sail or row-boat, he thinks,
as well as any man living; who knows every rope of the schooner
Brilliant, and fancies he could command it as well as "father" himself;
and is supporting himself this spring, during the tamer drudgeries of
driving plough, and dropping potatoes, with the glorious vision of being
taken this year on the annual trip to "the Banks," which comes on after
planting. He reads fluently,--witness the "Robinson Crusoe," which never
departs from under his pillow, and Goldsmith's "History of Greece and
Rome," which good Mr. Sewell has lent him,--and he often brings shrewd
criticisms on the character and course of Romulus or Alexander into the
common current of every-day life, in a way that brings a smile over the
grave face of Zephaniah, and makes Mrs. Pennel think the boy certainly
ought to be sent to college.

As for Mara, she is now a child of seven, still adorned with long golden
curls, still looking dreamily out of soft hazel eyes into some unknown
future not her own. She has no dreams for herself--they are all for
Moses. For his sake she has l