He did so before the day was over. Seeing the captain in the grounds, he joined him with a request for a bit of private chat.
"Certainly," said the captain, leading theway to the summerhouse on the edge of the cliff. "If you want assistance in any way that I can give it, I need hardly tell you that it will be a pleasure to me to do so; especially as you are the brother of my dear wife."
"Thank you, Brother Levis, I do not doubt that in the least; and yet——" He stammered and paused, coloring deeply.
"I think you need not hesitate to tell me," the captain said, with a look of surprise. "I feel very sure you would not ask anything wrong or unreasonable."
"No; my request is neither, I think. It is that I may, if I can, win the heart and hand of your daughter Grace."
"Surely, surely you must acknowledge that that is unreasonable!" exclaimed the captain, in a tone of astonishment not unmixed with indignation. "Such a mixture of relationships—making you your sister's son-in-law, and my daughter my sister-in-law!"
"My mother's idea is that we might keep to our own relationships as they are now; and she thinks as there is absolutely no tie of bloodbetween us there could be nothing wrong in such a marriage."
"No, perhaps not absolutely wrong, but very distasteful to me. Besides, as you yourself must acknowledge, Grace is entirely too young to marry."
"But all the time growing older, as well as more and more beautiful, and I can wait. She is worth waiting for as long as Jacob served for Rachel. And would it not be wise to give her to a physician, who will make her health his constant care?"
"Perhaps so," returned the captain, with a rather perplexed and sad sort of smile; "and if you have won her heart and are willing to wait till she is of suitable age, I—don't forbid you to tell her—how dearly you love her—if you can."
"A thousand thanks, Brother Levis!" exclaimed Harold, seizing the captain's hand in a vise-like grasp, and giving it a hearty shake.
"I don't know how to put my love into words—it seems to me they would be powerlessto express it—but I shall try and hope to win a return by untiring devotion."
"She has a loving heart, and her father finds it hard to be called upon to resign the first place in it," the captain said, with an involuntary sigh.
"But let us hope that it will be for her happiness, captain; and I think we both love her well enough to resign a good deal for that."
"Her father certainly does," said the captain. "Dear child! she has been a great comfort and blessing to me since my eyes first rested upon her dear little face. She has never caused me a pang, except by her ill-health and feebleness."
"I have known her long enough and well enough to be sure of that," said Harold. "She certainly has a lovely disposition, as well as a beautiful face and form. I feel that to win her for my own will be the greatest good fortune that could possibly come to me."
"I am glad you appreciate the worth of my dear child," the captain said, with emotion, "and if you have won her heart I am notafraid to trust her happiness to your keeping. But, understand, I cannot let you take her at once."
"Yes, I understand, and shall not take any unfair advantage of your reluctantly granted permission, Brother Levis; but if I can win her consent, her heart, I shall be a very happy man, and wait contentedly—or at least ungrumblingly—until you grant us leave to become husband and wife."
Harold was not long in availing himself of the consent given. He was on the watch for an opportunity to tell his tale of love to the one most deeply concerned. He coaxed her out to that very spot where he and her father had had their private talk, there told her what she was to him, and asked if she could return his affection and willingly give herself to him. She was evidently much surprised, listened with an agitated air and face suffused with blushes, then said low and hesitatingly:
"Oh, Uncle Harold! how can you? You are so good and wise—so much older than Iam—and—and father has often told me that I am only a little girl—not nearly old enough to think about—about such things—and so I am sure he wouldn't want you to talk to me as you did just now."
"But I spoke to him first, and gained his permission to tell you of my love. He probably will not let us marry for some years to come, even if you care for me in that way; but he is willing that we should become engaged if we choose, and be lovers till he thinks you are old enough to marry. And oh, darling! if you care for me, and will promise to be mine at some future day, it will make me the happiest of men. Oh, dearest! can't you love me in that way, even just a little?" he concluded imploringly, taking her hand in his and holding it in a tenderly affectionate pressure.
"I can't help loving you, Uncle Harold, you are so,so verygood and kind to me. But I never thought of—of your being my lover; for I'm not wise and good enough for you."
"I should put it just the other way, that I am not half wise and good enough for you, mydarling, my fairy queen," he said, venturing to put an arm about her, draw her into a close embrace, and press an ardent kiss upon her lips.
She made no resistance, and a few more words of love and whispered tenderness caused the sweet, blushing face to grow radiant with happiness. She did not deny that she returned his affection, but at length owned in a few low-breathed, hesitating words that she did.
Her face was beaming when they returned to the house, and when she came to her father for the usual good-night caress, he folded her close to his heart and gazing searchingly into the sweet, blushing face, said tenderly:
"My darling little daughter looks very happy to-night. Won't you let your father into the secret of it?"
"Yes, indeed, papa; I never meant to keep anything from you," she murmured, half under her breath, and hiding her blushing face on his breast. "I always mean to tell you every thing worth while, because we love each other so very, very dearly. I am happy because ofwhat Uncle Harold has been telling me; and he says he told you first, so you know. And you are willing, papa?"
"Yes, daughter, when the right time comes, since it seems it will make you happy. But," he sighed, "it is a little hard for your father to find other men getting the love of his dear daughters away from him."
"Oh, papa, dear, dearest papa, don't think that!" she said, with tears in her voice. "I've always loved you dearly, and it seems to me that I love you better just now than I ever did before."
"Ah, is that so, daughter mine?" he said, giving her another tender caress; "it makes me happy to hear it, and to believe that my dear Grace will never cease to love me, and will always feel sure of her father's loving sympathy in all her joys and sorrows."
"It is very sweet to know that, papa dear," she said. "Oh, I am just the happiest girl, with so many and such dear loved ones. But even with all the others, father, I couldn't do without your love."
"I hope not, dear child. It would be hard indeed for me to doubt that, or to be deprived of yours. But now bid me good-night and go to your rest, for late hours have always been bad for you."
"Yes, sir, I know; and my dear, kind father is always so tenderly careful of me," she said, giving and receiving a close, loving embrace.
It had been a sultry day, followed by a delightful evening, a cool, refreshing breeze coming from the river, and a full moon in a clear sky making it almost as light as day in the grounds, about which the elder members of the party were scattered. The captain left the porch where he and his daughter Grace had had their little chat, and joined a group under the trees on the lawn. It consisted of Mrs. Travilla—or Grandma Elsie, as his first set of children had been accustomed to call her—her daughters, Mrs. Leland and Mrs. Raymond, and her sons Harold, Herbert, and Walter. There was a slight flutter of excitement among them as he joined them and took possession of a vacant seat.
"I am glad you have come, captain," said Mrs. Travilla. "Harold has just been telling us of your great kindness to him, and I want to thank you for it."
"Ah! what was that?" he asked in a tone that seemed to express surprise. "There are few things I would not do for you or yours, mother."
"I believe that, and you have given him the right to win, if he can, a precious treasure; and to give to me the dearest of little daughters."
"Ah, yes!" he said, as if just comprehending her meaning, "and to her father she is such a treasure as any man might covet and be rejoiced to win."
"An opinion in which I am sure we will all agree," said Violet. "I, who certainly know her well, think she is an inestimable treasure."
"An opinion in which we can all join you, I am sure," added Herbert, "and I think my brother a most fortunate man."
"That is exactly what he thinks of himself," said Harold, with a happy laugh. "Though there has to be a long, long waitingspell before the full extent of that happiness can be realized."
"How our young folks are pairing off!" remarked Mrs. Leland, with a slight sigh.
"Ah, yes," said Violet, "but fortunately they don't pair off with strangers and leave us. That makes it much easier to bear, doesn't it, my dear?"
"Yes; except for the mixture of relationships," returned the captain a trifle ruefully.
"Is the thing to be kept a secret?" queried Mrs. Leland.
"I am entirely willing it should be known in the connection," said Captain Raymond.
Itwas growing late, and Evelyn's guests, accustomed to keeping early hours while at Crag Cottage, had nearly all retired to their rooms for the night. But Chester Dinsmore and Lucilla Raymond were just returning from a stroll down the river bank, and as they neared the house they could see the captain pacing the front porch.
"There is papa now," said Lucilla. "I am afraid he will think I have been out rather late."
"Are you afraid of a scolding?" asked Chester.
"No; I may get a gentle reproof, but nothing worse. Papa never really scolds; but I can't bear to have him displeased with me. My dear, dear father! I believe I give him all the love that would have been divided between him and my mother had she lived."
"I am not surprised at that," returned Chester,"for he is certainly worthy of it. I have learned to love and honor him myself as if I were his own son."
"Oh, Chester, how glad I am to hear you say that!" exclaimed Lucilla.
But that ended the talk, for they were at the foot of the porch steps, and the captain spoke, addressing them. "Ah, so here you are at last, my dears. I was beginning to feel a trifle anxious lest something had befallen you."
"Oh, no, father! we are all right," exclaimed Lucilla, in lively tones, "but the bewitching moonlight and pleasant breeze tempted us to linger longer than usual. I hope you are not vexed with us?"
"Not very seriously, daughter," he said, with a smile, "but it is high time now that you were getting ready for your night's rest. I want you to have plenty of that, and I know you like to be up early."
"Yes, indeed, father; for my early walks and talks with you are among my greatest pleasures."
"Your father in the morning, your lover atnight," Chester said, with a pleasant laugh. "I'm glad and thankful, captain, that you let me have her for something like half the time. Good-night, now! and pleasant dreams to you both," he added, turning away and passing into the house, hardly waiting for their return of his parting good wishes.
"Now I suppose I must say good-night and go too," Lucilla said, putting her arms about her father's neck and looking up lovingly into his face.
"I shall take about five minutes of your society first," he returned, smiling and patting her cheek. "I have something to tell you; something that will, perhaps, be a little surprise to you."
"Nothing bad, I hope, father?"
"No, not exactly bad—though I must own it is something of a trial to me. Your sister Grace has followed your bad example, and given the first place in her heart to another; my consent has been asked, given, and they are engaged, though not to marry for the next five years."
"Father!" exclaimed Lucilla, in a tone of utter astonishment, "to whom? Chester's brother Frank?"
"What a guess!" laughed her father. "No; try again."
She reflected a moment, then—"It can't be Uncle Harold?" she ventured, in a tone that seemed to say that that was hardly possible. "He is surely much too old for her."
"Unfortunately I cannot make that objection, since there is some years' less difference in their ages than in your Mamma Vi's and mine."
"Oh, papa! and are they really lovers, and engaged?"
"Yes; though such a match is very distasteful to me—simply on account of the mixed-up relationship that their marriage would bring about; but when I found the fancy and affection were mutual, I could not withhold my consent."
"You dear father! you are always so kindly considerate of other people's welfare and happiness," she said in tones tremulous with emotion."I am sure nobody ever had a kinder, better father than ours."
"It is most pleasant to have my daughter think so, whether I deserve it or not," he said low and tenderly, holding her close to his heart and pressing kisses on her forehead, cheek, and lips. "Now go and make yourself ready for bed," he added, "and don't let this bit of surprising news keep you from sleeping. I want my dear eldest daughter fresh and bright for my entertainment in the morning."
The house being so full, Lucilla, Grace, and Evelyn shared the same room. Grace was in bed, but not asleep as usual, Eva preparing for rest, when Lucilla came in from her talk with her father. She glanced at her sister, and seeing her eyes closed thought her sleeping.
"Oh, Eva!" she whispered to her friend, "do you know—have you heard the news?"
"News? No. I have been busy about household matters, and no one has told anything. What is it—war news?"
"No, oh, no!" glancing smilingly toward Grace; "something even more interesting, Ithink, unless Max were concerned in it. It is that we have another pair of lovers in the house—Gracie there and Uncle Harold. I'll have to quit calling him 'uncle,' though, since he is to be my brother one of these days."
"Is it possible! Well, he has won a prize, I think."
Grace was not asleep now; her wide open eyes were fixed upon the two girls and her cheeks rosy with blushes. "No, it's I that have, Eva," she said. "I don't know how anybody so good and wise and kind could take a fancy to poor silly little me!"
At that Lucilla ran to the bed, threw her arms about her sister, and showered kisses upon her lips and cheeks. "You dear, dear thing! you are neither poor nor silly," she said. "I think the only wonder is that all the men don't fall head over ears in love with you. They certainly would if they had good sense, taste, and discernment."
At that Grace indulged in a peal of low, soft laughter. "You funny girl!" she said. "I am glad indeed that they are not so silly, forwhat in the world could I do with so many lovers? One is quite a plentiful supply for me."
"That's right, Gracie," exclaimed Evelyn. "I'm sure one such as mine should be quite enough for anybody."
"Well, I'm not going to say 'Uncle Harold' any more," laughed Lucilla.
"No, he doesn't want either of us to," said Grace. "But now I suppose both he and papa would say I must try to go at once to sleep."
"Yes; so I'll stop hugging and kissing you, and be quiet as a mouse, getting ready for bed, so as not to keep you awake," said Lucilla, giving her a final loving embrace, then gliding away from the bed to the toilet table.
"Do you think Max will like it?" asked Evelyn, in an undertone.
"Yes, I do. He and Harold have always been good friends. But as papa says, it will make an unpleasant mixture of relationships. He will be brother-in-law to Grace besides being her own father," she added, with a slight laugh; "yet I know very well she will alwaysremember that he is her father—her dearly loved and honored father."
"I am certain of it," said Evelyn; "and that she would never make the match without her father's knowledge and consent."
"No, indeed!" responded Lucilla, turning a loving look upon the now sleeping Grace.
Lucilla had scarcely left her father on the porch when Violet joined him there.
"I thought it possible, Levis, that you might not object to your wife's company in your walk here," she said in a lively tone, and slipping her hand into his arm.
"Object, my darling, light of my eyes and joy of my heart!" he said in a loving, mirthful tone, bending down to kiss the sweet lips. "Yours is the sweetest companionship I know of. I should be glad to think mine was as delightful to you."
"As I don't know how to measure either one, I can only say that it is the most delightful of all in the world to me," she returned with a happy laugh. Then in a somewhat graver tone, "Oh, my dear husband,you don't know how dearly I and all your children love you! Neither Elsie nor Ned is ever willing to go to bed without your fatherly good-night caresses, and they always bewail the necessity for doing that when you are away from home."
"Probably not regretting it more than their father does," he said. "Yes, the love of my children is a highly esteemed blessing to me, and, unfortunately, I cannot help feeling it something of a grief and disappointment when I learn that their tenderest affection has been transferred to another."
"Ah, you are thinking of Grace and Harold. But be comforted, my dear; I am certain that Grace does not love her father less because Harold has won a place in her heart. I do not love my dear mother any the less for loving you, my dear husband, or you any the less for loving her."
"I am glad to hear it, my darling," he said, tenderly pressing the hand she had laid in his.
"And surely we cannot blame my brother and your daughter for loving each other whenthey are both so worthy of affection that no one who knows them can help giving it to them."
"You are a special pleader, my dear," he said with a smile; "and they hardly need one with me, for I am fond of them both—particularly of my frail young daughter."
"Ah, and does not that cause you to rejoice that she loves, and is beloved by, a good and successful physician?"
"That is a cause for thankfulness, my dear," he returned pleasantly. "But shall we not go in now and retire to rest? It is growing late."
"Yes, if you have finished your evening promenade; I don't want to rob you of that."
"I think I have taken sufficient exercise, and now prefer rest and sleep," he answered laughingly, as he drew her on toward the doorway.
As Lucilla came tripping down the stairway the next morning, Harold was passing through the lower hall.
"Good-morning, Lu," he said, looking up at her.
"Good-morning, Dr. Travilla," she returned demurely.
"What!" he exclaimed, "what's that you are calling me?"
"Dr. Travilla. That's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes—to strangers and people not related to me; but—you called me 'uncle' yesterday."
"But you're not my uncle, and it seems you intend to become my brother-in-law, so——"
"So Harold without the 'uncle' would be the most appropriate name, wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps so, if—if you won't think it disrespectful."
"Not a bit of it. Call me Harold, or I'll be very apt to call you Mrs. Dinsmore one of these days."
They ended with a laugh and cordial handshaking, just as the captain appeared in the outer doorway. Then they joined him in a stroll about the grounds.
"There is a dark cloud in the east," remarkedLucilla, in a regretful tone; "we are likely to have a rainy day, are we not, papa?"
"Yes," he said, "but it need not necessarily be an unpleasant one. We may find plenty of indoor employment and recreations."
"Yes," said Harold, "there have been many pleasant rainy days in my past experiences. And they are not so bad for a strong, healthy man, even if he must go out in the rain."
"And when gardens and fields are needing rain, we long and pray for it," added Lucilla.
"How is Grace this morning?" asked Harold.
"She was still sleeping when I left the room," replied Lucilla; "but probably she is up and ready for the call to breakfast by this time."
"And there it is," said the captain, as the sound of the ringing of a hand-bell came from the house; "so let us go in and not keep the others waiting."
They met Violet and Grace in the hall as they entered, and it was pretty to see the latter's blush and smile as Harold greeted her.
The clouds were increasing and growing darker, and before they left the table the rain had begun to fall. So they talked of indoor occupations and amusements.
"We might have a little fun, if everybody's willing," remarked Ned Raymond, giving Mr. Lilburn a significant look and smile.
"Yes; little boys—big ones too—can generally get up some fun among themselves when they try," was Cousin Ronald's answering remark, without the slightest indication that he took Ned's hint.
"And I know Cousin Ronald is very kind about helping in that," returned Ned insinuatingly.
"Yes, he is fond of giving pleasure to his young friends," remarked Mrs. Lilburn, with a loving smile up into her husband's face. "I think, Ned, he will help you to some before the day is over."
They were on the porch, for there was no wind at the moment to drive the rain in upon them, and it was cooler there than within doors. As Annis finished speaking there wasa sudden cry of distress, seemingly coming from the river just below. "Help! help! I shall drown! nobody will help me!"
It was a man's voice and there was a foreign accent in the tones. It made quite a stir in the little assembly on the porch, the lads exclaiming: "Oh, the poor fellow! Can't we help him, Grandma Elsie? Surely the men on theDolphinwill do what they can!" But hardly were the words spoken when another voice called out in reply to the first:
"Hould on there, me jewel, an' I'll give ye a lift. I'm the b'ye that kin do it."
"Oh, I hope he will get him out!" cried Ned, in great excitement. "Papa, you'll let them take him on board the yacht, won't you?"
"Certainly, if he wishes to be taken there," replied the captain, with a smiling glance at Cousin Ronald.
Just then the second voice called out, "Here he is—the half drownded Frenchman; an' now will the likes of yees aboord that craft take 'im in an' dry 'im off?"
"Of course; that's exactly what the captain would do if he were here," answered a third voice, which sounded exactly like that of the man at present in charge of the yacht.
"Oh, I'm glad he didn't drown!" exclaimed Elsie Raymond, with a sigh of relief.
"I presume such people don't often drown, Elsie dear," laughed her mother.
"Oh, mamma, I often hear of people drowning," said the little girl. "And, Uncle Harold, don't they need a doctor when they are nearly drowned?"
"They are very apt to," he replied with a slight laugh. "Do you want me to go down now and see about that man?"
"If you could, without getting wet," she answered hesitatingly.
"Suppose I go," said her Uncle Herbert; "I'm pretty well now, and am perhaps almost as skilful a physician as my older brother."
But now the captain interposed.
"I can't have either of my young brothers expose himself to this rain, for the men on theyacht are quite competent to deal with that Frenchman's case."
"I should say so indeed," said Mr. Lilburn gravely, "for it is not likely that he was in the water many minutes. So, my wee bonny bairnie Elsie, dinna fash yersel' ony mair aboot him," he concluded, with an affectionate look and smile into the face of the little girl.
"Oh, Cousin Ronald, did you do it all?" exclaimed Ned. "Dear me, how stupid I am! I might have known it was you."
"I doubt if you really know it yet, laddie," laughed the old gentleman.
Ned turned to his father. "Papa, may I take an umbrella and just run down to theDolphinfor a few minutes to ask about it?"
"It is not worth while," replied the captain; "I am very sure you would make no discoveries."
"Then it was you, Cousin Ronald, wasn't it, now? Please own up," exclaimed Ned, with a laughing look into the old gentleman's face.
"Folk shouldna find fault with what they've asked for," was the old gentleman's non-committal rejoinder.
"Oh, no, sir! no indeed! but I was not meaning to find fault," laughed Ned; "I think it was good fun, and hope you will give us more of it."
Just as he pronounced the last word a fierce bark, seemingly that of a very large dog, followed instantly by a scream as if a woman were in pain and terror, startled them all, and there were outcries of affright from the children, while several of the grown people started to their feet and looked anxiously in the direction of the sounds, which had seemed to come from the vicinity of the porch, but a little farther toward the rear of the house.
Another bark from the dog, then a woman's voice in tones of wild affright, "Oh, somebody help, help! this dog will tear me to pieces."
Mr. Leland and Walter Travilla stepped quickly to the end of the porch nearest thesounds and looked around the corner of the house, but instantly reported that neither woman nor dog was to be seen.
"Oh, another sell from Cousin Ronald!" laughed Ned. "Oh, there it is again!" for just then there was a sound as of a loud knock at a side door, and a man's coarse voice thundering, "Let me in oot o' this rain, ye slowgoing, good-for-naught biddies. Let me in, I say, and be quick about it."
A woman's scream followed instantly, "Oh, captain, or some o' you gentlemen, come here quick and save us from this drunken rascal."
Some of those on the porch were a little startled for an instant, but a laugh quickly followed, and the fun went on for some minutes—bees, mice, chickens, and puppies being heard, but not seen or felt.
But the rainfall was growing heavier, and at length Harold suggested that it might be well for Grace, if not for all, to go within doors to escape the dampness.
Nearly all at once complied with the suggestion,and Mrs. Travilla, inviting Grace to a seat by her side, said low and tenderly:
"Harold gave me a piece of news last night that has made me very happy. I hope one of these days to number you among my dear daughters, and shall feel most happy in doing so."
"Oh, Grandma Elsie, it is so kind in you to say that!" returned Grace tremulously, but blushing with pleasure as she spoke; "it will be very sweet to have you for my mother, for I have loved you dearly ever since I first saw you."
At that moment Walter came and took a seat on the other side of her.
"Oh, Gracie," he said in an undertone, "I am so glad of Harold's news—that I am to have you for a sister at some future day. I'll try to be a good brother to you."
"And I certainly intend to do my best to be a good sister to you, Walter," she answered in the same low tone, and with a vivid blush and one of her sweetest smiles.
"Thanks," he said. "I wish the weddingwas to take place directly; some time this fall, at least. Couldn't we coax your father to allow it?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Papa would never allow it, and I—don't believe I could consent myself. Really, the very thought of doing anything so important so suddenly more than half frightens me."
"Harold is a mild, good-natured kind of fellow; you needn't be afraid of him," laughed Walter.
"No, not of him exactly," returned Grace, laughing a little also and blushing quite a good deal, "but of—of the sudden change in my way of life—leaving my father and all the rest of my family."
But there the talk between them ended for the time, for Harold's near relatives came up, one after another, to tell Grace how welcome a new member of their near connection she would be. Chester Dinsmore was the only one who expressed any regret, and that not to Grace, but to Lucilla.
"I am sorry for my brother Frank," he said."He has been desperately in love with her, but your father would not let him speak. And I thought it would be pleasant to be so closely and doubly connected—two sisters marrying brothers."
"I am sorry, since it disappoints you," said Lucilla. "But I hope Frank will soon get over his disappointment and find some one who will suit him still better. Besides, Grace being so delicate, it is well for her to get into the hands of a good physician."
"True enough," returned Chester, "and we may as well look at it in that way, for there is no use in fretting over what can't be helped."
September had come; the summer heat was over and business called the gentlemen of our party to their more southern homes. Preparations began, and one little company after another departed, leaving the rest feeling somewhat lonely and dull without them. The captain and his family, Grandma Elsie, Evelyn, and Mr. and Mrs. Lilburn were to go in the yacht, which carried them away a few days later—down the Hudson River and down theAtlantic coast to the seaport near their Southern homes.
A joyous welcome from lovers, relatives, and friends awaited them there. Then followed the fall, winter, and early spring months, filled up and made delightful by the accustomed round of study, needlework, social calls, and visits, interspersed with religious duties and charitable work, etc.
Evelyn was often at Woodburn, and she and Lucilla made many pretty things for the adornment of their future homes. The weddings were to be postponed till Max came home, and to their disappointment that home-coming was deferred month after month till Chester grew exceedingly weary of waiting. Letters were received occasionally from Max, but he knew no more than they when he would be able to rejoin them and claim his bonny bride. The waiting was doubtless harder for him than for Chester or either of the girls. They indeed seemed to take it quietly and contentedly.
Grace was very happy with her lover close athand and often visiting her professionally or otherwise. And with her this state of things seemed to be conducive to health; she grew rosier, stronger, gayer, and more lively in her speech and manner than she had ever been before. So great a joy was it to her father to perceive the change that he soon fully forgave Harold for seeking her affection while she was still so young and feeble. Harold seemed to be waiting very patiently, and when Chester grumbled at his long enforced wait, Lucilla sometimes playfully called his attention to the good example set him by Harold.
"But there isn't the same need of waiting in our case," he would reply, "for, I am thankful to say, you are as healthy a girl as any that I know of."
"Yes; but think of the disappointment to Max and Eva if we shouldn't wait for them, when we can be together almost as much as if we were married, and all the time doing things to make our new home as lovely as possible."
The continuance of war in the Philippines, a cause of more or less regret to everybody, wasdoubly so to Max's friends and relatives, because it delayed his return month after month. They missed him particularly when Christmas time came and he was not there to share in the pleasant exchange of gifts and greetings. They had sent gifts to him, hoping they would reach him in good season, and as usual they bestowed them upon each other. For weeks beforehand Violet had spent a good deal of time in her studio, and the result was a handsome portrait of the captain for each of his older daughters. They were highly pleased with them, saying that nothing else could have given them so much pleasure. The captain's gifts to them and Violet were valuable books and some fine paintings for their walls.
"You see, Chester," Lucilla said, when exhibiting hers to him, "that we are getting more and more for the adornment of our home while we wait for it."
"Adornment which could go on just as well if we were already in it," he returned, with a rather rueful laugh.
"Well, for your consolation please rememberthat it is near enough to be looked at every day," replied Lucilla, in a sprightly tone. "And see here what yourfiancéehas prepared for you," drawing a small package from her pocket as she spoke.
"Thanks! Some of her own work, I hope," he said, with a gratified look and smile.
"Yes, I would have you enjoy as much of my work as possible."
He had it opened now, and found it a beaded purse.
"Oh, how handsome!" he cried. "Many, many thanks, dearest! I have no need of a reminder of you, but if I had, this would be one every time I looked at it. Now here is my gift to you," taking in his turn a little package from his pocket and putting it in her hand. It was a miniature of himself—a fine likeness—attached to a beautiful gold chain.
"Oh, it is excellent, and nothing could have pleased me better!" she exclaimed, as she examined it.
Harold had the same sort of gift for Grace, and she had embroidered for him a set of finelinen cambric handkerchiefs, with which he seemed greatly pleased.
Every member of that family, and each of the others in the connection, had prepared some gift of more or less value for each of the others, for their servants and dependents, and for the neighbors poor enough to need assistance from those able to give it.
As usual there was a grand dinner at Ion, to which all the connection were invited; and pretty much the same thing was repeated at Woodburn on New Year's day. Max was missed and talked of at both gatherings, always being mentioned as one of whom they were proud and fond, while to Evelyn and the Woodburn family his absence detracted much from the enjoyment of the festivities. Yet they comforted themselves with the hope that the trouble in the Philippines would soon be over, and he allowed to return to his home and dear ones, now so anxious to see him, and to claim his promised wife.
Thewinter passed away without any untoward event to our friends at Woodburn, Ion, Fairview, and the vicinity; March and April succeeded, then early in May came the news that Admiral Watson was ordered to proceed to Manila and relieve Admiral Dewey. He sailed from San Francisco on the 16th. It was not until late in June that he reached his destination, but Admiral Dewey had left there for Hong-Kong on the 23d of May, and placed theOlympiain dry-dock for the ten days he thought best to stay at that point in order to recruit his own health and that of his men. He left Hong-Kong on June 6, and reached Singapore June 11. On the 23d he was at Colombo, on the island of Ceylon. He touched at various points on his homeward route—Port Said, Trieste, Naples, Leghorn—at every place being received with highesthonors. On August 28 he was in the neighborhood of Nice and Villefranche, enjoying the delightful climate and beautiful scenery of that part of the world. On the 4th of September he reached Gibraltar. His vessel gave the usual salute, heartily acknowledged by the garrison, and the admiral was warmly welcomed by its commander-in-chief, General Biddulph. He seems to have stayed there six days, as it was on the 10th he sailed for New York by way of the Azores. On Tuesday morning, September 26, he anchored inside Sandy Hook—three days earlier than he was expected.
A reception committee in New York City had been busily making ready to give him a grand "Welcome Home," which they intended should eclipse in gorgeous pageantry everything that had preceded it in the way of public demonstration. They had written to Admiral Dewey to know when he would arrive in order that they might fix a date for the grand display, and he had written them from Leghorn, more than a month before: "I shall,without fail, reach the Lower Bay on Friday, September 29."
The glad news of his arrival quickly spread by telegraph, and cannon were fired and bells rung in many cities throughout the country. The New York Reception Committee hastened to welcome him as soon as they knew of the arrival of theOlympia. Rear-Admirals Philip and Sampson came also; but first of all came Sir Thomas Lipton, the British challenger for the cup which has been so long in our possession, his vessel lying near where theOlympiaanchored.
But presently another yacht came steaming rapidly down the river, and Max recognized it with an exclamation of delight, for it was theDolphin, and in a few minutes more Captain Raymond was on the deck of theOlympia, grasping his son's hand, while his eyes shone with fatherly pride and affection.
"My boy, my dear boy!" he said, in tones tremulous with emotion; "thank God that we are permitted to meet again."
"Father, my dear, dear father, how I havelonged for this meeting with you!" was Max's answering exclamation. "Oh, tell me, are all our dear ones alive and well?"
"Yes, my son, and waiting yonder in the yacht for you. Surely the admiral will allow you to go aboard her with me for a little visit."
The admiral and the captain were not strangers to each other. A cordial greeting passed between them, they chatted as old friends for a few minutes, then Captain Raymond carried his son off to theDolphin, where he was received most joyfully, and exchanged loving embraces with his affianced, his sisters, "Mamma Vi," "Grandma Elsie," and little brother.
They told him they had spent the greater part of the summer at Crag Cottage—which they still considered their temporary home—but for the present were on board the yacht, as the best place from which to view the naval welcome to Admiral Dewey.
Time flew fast in the glad mutual intercourse they had lacked for so many months. Max had many questions to ask in regard to friendsand relatives and all that had been going on in the neighborhood of his home and theirs. But his short leave had soon expired, and his father conveyed him back to theOlympiaand left him there with the warmly expressed hope that they would soon be able to be together constantly for a time.
At the naval anchorage at Tompkinsville a fleet was gathered to welcome Dewey's return, and his vessel steamed thither on Wednesday—the day after her arrival at Sandy Hook. As she swept up the bay the salute due to an Admiral of the United States Navy rang out over the harbor from the forts and the assembled fleet for the first time in many years. There were also the music of marine bands, the pealing of naval bugles, the shrill whistles of numerous small craft, the cheering of excursion parties, and the rapid dash of the steam launches, all combining to make the scene a very lively one.
During that day and the next the admiral and his officers had little rest, for their time was devoted to receiving the hurried visits ofState and city officials, of naval and military officers, and of thousands of private citizens. One of the calls was that of a committee from Washington, to tell Dewey of the arrangements for his reception and the sword presentation there, and of an invitation to dine with President McKinley on October 3d.
On Thursday, Captain Lamberton of theOlympiahad a pleasant task—that of pinning upon the breast of each man of Dewey's fleet who had taken part in the fight at Manila the bronze medal of honor voted him by Congress. That was followed by the presentation to Admiral Dewey of the first American admiral's flag ever flung to the breeze, the flag first hoisted to the mast-head of Farragut's flagship, theHartford, before New Orleans.
Another thing very pleasing to the admiral was the receipt of an order from Washington granting special permission to the thirty-four Chinamen on board of theOlympiawho had taken part in the battle at Manila to land and have a share in the great parade. The city was a blaze of flags and bunting by day, and ofelectric lights by night. On the Brooklyn Bridge over eight thousand electric bulbs were arranged to form the words "Welcome Dewey"; powerful searchlights flashed from the towers over city and bay, and red fire burned along shores on the vessels at night.
The naval parade on Friday was the most magnificent display of the kind ever seen in this country. TheOlympialed the way, followed by battleships, cruisers, revenue cutters, torpedo boats, and innumerable craft of all descriptions. Over three million people lined the river banks to see the magnificent pageant. At Riverside—where Grant is buried—a salute was fired in his honor. Two beautiful allegorical floats were anchored there, representing "Victory" and "Peace." Here theOlympiaand her consorts dropped anchor, while the long fleet passed in review. In the evening there was a fine electric and pyrotechnic display throughout the city and along the river.
The next day, Saturday, September 30, came the land parade, which was as interesting ashad been the naval one. At five o'clock the admiral was up, and personally inspected his men. A committee of gentlemen escorted him to the City Hall, where he was met by Admiral Schley, Captain Walker, Captain Coghlan, Captain Dyer, Governor Roosevelt, and others who had won distinction in the war. It was observed that he greeted Schley with marked cordiality. From there the party went to a stand in front of the Hall, and Dewey was presented by Mayor Van Wyck, on behalf of the City of New York, with a handsome and costly loving cup of fine gold.
The admiral and his party then hastened to the pier to take the boat to Grant's tomb, where the procession formed. It was a great one, and every step of the way was an ovation. First came Sousa's immense band of musicians, then the sailor boys of Manila, the bluejackets of Santiago, and the boys from fifteen States, who had taken part in the Spanish-American war. The immense crowds along the sidewalks cheered them lustily; none more so than the "Fighting Tenth" of Pennsylvania.
But the part of the procession which attracted the most attention was the carriage drawn by four beautiful bay horses in which rode Admiral Dewey and Mayor Van Wyck. Dewey rode with uncovered head bowing right and left until he reached the reviewing stand. The triumphal arch with its marble-like colonnade made a beautiful picture. On its top was a heroic figure of Farragut—who gave Dewey his first lesson in sailing over hidden mines and destructive torpedoes—seeming to look down upon his brave and successful pupil with admiration and approval. The celebration was a great success, showing how heartily the American people appreciated their gallant hero. The next day, being the Sabbath, was spent in rest and comparative quiet. On Monday, October 2, Dewey went by rail from New York to Washington, his journey thither proving a continual ovation. It was in the early evening he reached that city, and as the train neared the station a battery boomed out the admiral's salute, announcing his arrival to the waiting multitudes. The Third Cavalry wasthere to receive him, and he was driven to the White House to pay his respects to the Chief of the Nation. He was warmly welcomed by the President and his Cabinet and many naval officers.
After that the entire party went to review the civic parade which had been planned in honor of the admiral.
The next day Admiral Dewey was presented with the sword voted him by Congress. A vast concourse of people assembled to witness the imposing and impressive ceremony, which took place in front of the Capitol, in the presence of the President and his Cabinet and the principal officers of the several departments of the government. General Miles was grand marshal of the escort, attended by a large staff of officers of the army and navy, all in full dress uniform and superbly mounted.
Just as the meridian gun sounded high noon, Admiral Dewey, leaning upon the President's arm, walked upon the platform. Following them were judges of the Supreme Court, governors of States, senators, and members ofCongress, and the general officers of the army and navy.
Congress had directed that the sword should be presented by the Secretary of the Navy, and he did so in most appropriate and eloquent language.
"No captain," he said, "ever faced a more crucial test than when, that morning, bearing the fate and the honor of your country in your hand, thousands of miles from home, with every foreign port in the world shut to you, nothing between you and annihilation but the thin sheathing of your ships, your cannon, and your devoted officers and men, you moved upon the enemy's batteries on shore and on sea with unflinching faith and nerve, and before the sun was halfway up in the heavens had silenced the guns of the foe, sunk the hostile fleet, demonstrated the supremacy of the American sea power, and transferred to the United States an entire of the islands of the Pacific."
In closing his speech the Secretary handed the sword to the President as Commander-in Chief of the Army and Navy, and the President,speaking a few appropriate words as he did so, handed it to the admiral, who took it, saving:
"I thank you, Mr. President, for this great honor you have conferred upon me. I thank the Congress for what it has done. I thank the Secretary of the Navy for his gracious words. I thank my country for this beautiful gift, which shall be an heirloom in my family forever, as an evidence that republics are not ungrateful. And I thank you, Mr. Chairman and gentlemen of the committee, for the gracious, kindly, and cordial welcome which you have given me to my home."
Itwas a lovely evening, and a pleasant company had gathered upon the deck of theDolphin, Captain Raymond's yacht, lying in New York harbor; there were Mrs. Travilla, or Grandma Elsie, as some of her loved ones called her, Captain Raymond himself, his wife and children, older and younger, Evelyn Leland, Dr. Harold Travilla, and Chester Dinsmore. They were scattered in groups—the three pairs of lovers in one, and conversing in low, earnest tones, now and then varied by a ripple of laughter.
"I should like it very, very much," said Eva, "but doubt if the captain proves willing."
"Doubtless if he consulted only his own inclination he would not consent," said Max; "but father is anything else but selfish, and loves you so dearly, Eva, that I by no means despair of persuading him to give you your wish in regard to this."
"I have hardly a doubt of that," said Lucilla, "and I am highly in favor of the plan, though I was not at first."
"It suits me exactly," remarked Chester, in a gleeful tone. "I greatly like the idea of taking my wife home with me."
"Something that more than one of us would be glad to do," sighed Harold, squeezing affectionately a little hand of which he had taken possession a moment before.
"Never mind, old fellow, your turn will come one of these days, I hope," said Chester. "Perhaps when you two have waited as long as Lu and I have now."
"Ah, I'm afraid we have even a longer wait than that before us," returned Harold.
"But we can see each other every day—be together a good deal of the time," remarked Grace, in low, soothing tones.
"Well, let us have the thing settled, by hearing what father has to say about it," said Max, for at that moment the captain might be seen approaching their group.
"About what, my son?" he asked, as hetook a vacant seat close at hand, for he had overheard the last few words.
"As to the place where our nuptials should be celebrated, sir," returned Max, with a little, happy laugh.
"Where else but in your homes?" asked his father. "I should like to have both my children married in my house, but Eva and you, I suppose, would prefer to have yours and hers in her home—Fairview."
"No, sir," said Evelyn, "my very strong wish is to have mine celebrated in my own old home—the house my father built and owned—Crag Cottage."
"Ah, my dear child, that is natural!" returned the captain in a tone of mingled surprise and acquiescence, "and I should be loath to stand in the way of such a wish. But I thought you and Lucilla were planning to have but one ceremony for the two couples of you?"
"Yes, sir; and since talking it over we have concluded that Crag Cottage would be a suitable place for it, if you do not object."
"It seems to me that there are reasons bothfor and against it," he said thoughtfully, "but since you four are the ones most nearly concerned, I think it will be only right and kind to let you decide the question among yourselves. But it is growing late in the season, and if the ceremony is to be performed here at the North, it should take place quite soon. Can you make needed preparations in a few days?"
"I think we can," both girls answered to that question.
"Very well, then, so far as I am concerned you shall do just as you please. For that matter, you are all of legal age to do so whether you have my permission or not."
At that all four instantly disclaimed any intention or desire to go contrary to his wishes, and Eva added:
"I shall of course write at once to my uncle and aunt asking their consent and approval; for, though of legal age, I owe to them more than that for the great kindness they have shown me ever since the death of my dear father."
"That is a right feeling you have toward them," remarked Captain Raymond, in a tone of commendation, "but I have no idea that they will oppose your wishes in the least in this matter."
"No, I am almost sure they will not," she said; "but I shall write them to-night, and hope for a prompt reply. There will be some necessary shopping to do, and New York City will be the best place for that."
"Decidedly," assented the captain, "and you could have no better helpers in that than my wife and her mother."
"And yourself, papa," laughed Lucilla.
"As purse-bearer?" he asked, with a smile. "I shall certainly be that, and ready to exercise my taste as regards the choice of the goods."
"And I may be the housekeeper here on theDolphinwhile you are away on your pleasant errands, I suppose," said Grace.
"Yes, if you like, daughter," returned the captain; and Harold added, "And I as your assistant, if you are willing to make use of me."
"To see to it that she does not overwork herself," said the captain.
"And what may Chester and I be allowed to do?" queried Max.
"To keep them company,—if they desire it,—manage the vessel, and keep the children out of mischief, especially from falling overboard, and entertained in harmless ways."
"I think we can do all that," said Max; "but how long do you expect to be absent, father? Are we to lie still in the harbor here till you return?"
"Just as you please," said his father. "If you choose to steam along the shores, out into the ocean or up the river, you have full liberty to do so. All I ask is that you take good care of the children and the vessel."
"Well, sir, I think that with Chester's and Harold's help I can engage to do all that," laughed Max. "Don't you think so, lads?" turning first to one, then to the other of the young men.
Both returned an affirmative reply, then they all joined the group of older ladies, toldof their plans and purposes, and asked for advice, and whether the assistance they wanted in their shopping might be confidently expected.
At first both ladies were surprised that the young people should think of having their weddings before returning home, but, after a little discussion, highly approved of the plan, and expressed themselves as willing as possible to assist in the shopping and all needful preparations. Then they discussed the question what it would be needful or advisable to purchase, what dresses should be made and where the work could be done in the speediest and most approved manner, as it was wisest and best to consider and decide upon these matters before setting out to do their errands.
Evelyn wrote her letter to her uncle and aunt before retiring for the night, and had it posted early the next morning. Shortly after breakfast the shopping party went into the city on their pleasant errand, and a little later theDolphinweighed anchor and steamed out of harbor, going seaward.
The party on its deck was a cheerful, even merry one, Max and Chester rejoicing in the near approach of their long looked-for nuptials; Harold happy in having full possession for the time of his affianced, and Elsie and Ned Raymond in gay, youthful spirits, for they loved to be on the yacht and with Brother Max, Uncle Harold, and also Chester, with whom they had become almost as free and affectionate as if he were an own brother.
"Where are we going now, Brother Max?" asked Ned.
"I think we will put it to vote," replied Max. "My idea is that it might be very pleasant to steam along near the shore of the Sound on one side going out, and on the other returning; so getting a view of the country on both. Grace, as you are the only lady present, I think you should have the first vote. Shall we do as I have proposed, or something different?"
"It sounds very pleasant, Max," replied Grace, "but I don't wish to decide the question, for I shall enjoy going anywhere in theDolphin, and with such pleasant company."
"Rather non-committal," laughed Max. "Well, Chester and Harold, what do you say?"
Both answered that they approved his plan, and would like nothing better, and Elsie and Ned exclaimed with enthusiasm thattheywould like nothing better.
"A unanimous vote in favor," commented Max, "so the thing is settled."
"And we can settle to something," remarked Elsie, in a tone of satisfaction; "Uncle Harold, don't you want to tell us about some of the poor wounded or sick fellows you attended in Cuba?"
"I fear I have not much to tell of them—seeing I have already told so much—except that they were wonderfully brave and patient, full of love for their country and compassion for the downtrodden, inhumanly treated Cubans," replied Dr. Travilla.
"I think our soldiers were very brave, patient, and uncomplaining," said Elsie. "I am very proud of them, especially because they didn't do cruel deeds such as I have read ofsoldiers of other nations doing in time of war."
"Yes, I think they deserved that commendation," said Harold. "And the attempt of Hobson and his men to block the entrance to Santiago harbor by sinking theMerrimacthere was brave as brave could be. We have indeed cause to be proud of our soldiers."
"And so we are!" cried Ned enthusiastically, "and," turning toward his brother, "just as proud of the brave fellows that were at Manila as of those in Cuba."
"Thank you, young man," returned Max, with a bow and a smile. "We certainly have every reason to believe that our doings there have been appreciated by our kind countrymen."
"Brother Max, could you help feeling a little bit afraid when your ship went into that long channel with its many forts and torpedoes?"
"I certainly cannot say that I was entirely free from fear," acknowledged Max; "but I had no desire to escape the danger by giving up my part in the coming fight, for I felt that wewere on the right side of it—undertaken for the oppressed—and that my Heavenly Father was able to protect me, and all of us."
"And he did," exclaimed Elsie, in joyful tones; "it was just wonderful how you all escaped being killed, and only a few were slightly wounded."
"It was indeed," assented Max, "and a great cause for thankfulness."
"Do you like Admiral Dewey, Brother Max?" asked Ned.
"Yes, yes indeed!" was the earnest, smiling reply. "He is determined with his men, but very kind-hearted. The man who has been guilty of a fault may be pretty sure of pardon if he confesses it, but not if he tells a falsehood to escape his deserts. Lying is a thing which Dewey utterly detests."
"I wish I could get acquainted with him," said Elsie; "though I suppose he wouldn't like to be bothered with talking to a little girl of my age."
"I don't know about that," laughed Max; "he is said to be very fond of children."
"Has he any of his own?" she asked, with a look of interest.
"One son; but he is grown up and is in business."
"Oh, do tell me what sort of folks the Filipinos are?"
"I will do my best," replied Max. "The men are not tall, but have good forms and well-shaped heads. Their looks are boyish, and they seem never to grow old. They have black, glossy hair that seldom grows gray. The women are graceful and rather good-looking. They usually wear their hair loose, and no hat or bonnet on their heads. Their dress is a satin skirt handsomely embroidered, and a waist of pina cloth, having flowing sleeves. They wear a scarf of the finest quality, and beautifully embroidered, about their neck and shoulders. An American lady there told me that they often spend years on the embroidery of a single garment, and that she and others of our ladies had gone into raptures over that work, but could seldom secure a specimen. They are very cleanlypeople—bathe a great deal, and keep their clothing very clean; their houses also are kept clean, neat, and tidy. The women sew, spin, weave, and gather thatch to keep the hut in repair. They also catch fish for the family to eat, and are skilful at that business. They carry burdens on their heads, and that makes them erect and graceful. A good many of both Spaniards and Chinamen have married Filipino women, and the children, called Mestizoes, make good citizens, seeming to inherit the patient industry of the Chinese father and the gentle disposition and dignified self-possession of the Filipino mother. But now I think I have done my share of talking for the present, and must leave the rest of you to do yours while I see if all is going right with our vessel," added Max, rising and leaving the group as he spoke.
"Uncle Harold, do you know the captain they call 'Fighting Bob'?" asked Ned.
"Slightly," returned his uncle, "and a brave, noble man he is—a naval officer to be proud of; perfectly fearless and cool in battle,kind and helpful to conquered foes. He was commander of theIowa, to which the Spanish shipVizcayasurrendered. Her captain, in a speech in Spain, had said that he would tow back theIowato his king; but he was not able to do so. TheIowadrove shell after shell into his vessel, till she was a mass of flames, and struck her flag.
"Then 'Fighting Bob' sent out his boats to rescue the prisoners on the ship and in the water, and took back to theIowaseveral officers and two hundred and forty men, her captain, Eulate, among them. It is said to have been a horrible scene—so many dead and wounded men, and Captain Eulate, limping, and with his head bound up. He saluted as he stepped upon the deck of theIowa, and so did Captain Evans.
"'You are Captain Evans? This is theIowa?' asked Captain Eulate. 'Yes,' said Captain Evans, and took Eulate's hand in both of his, shaking it warmly. Eulate stepped back, unbuckled his sword, kissed it, and with the most elegant grace, handed it, hilt forward,to Captain Evans. But he refused to take it, turning the palm of his hand outward and waving it back, at the same time shaking his head—a very emphatic refusal.
"The Spaniards, officers and men, looked on in astonishment. Captain Eulate pressed Captain Evans' hand, and the crew gave Eulate three cheers, for he had fought well, and only gave up when his ship was in flames and sinking.
"Just then a terrific explosion was heard on theVizcaya, which was only a short distance off, and a solid column of smoke went up nearly four thousand feet, it is said, taking the form of a gigantic mushroom. At that Captain Eulate turned around, pointing with one hand to his ruined ship, with the other toward his officers and men, 'Veeski! Veeski!' he cried at the top of his voice, while tears rolled down his cheeks. His men sprang toward him, and many of them kissed his hand. He said in Spanish, 'My brave marines!' and looked away."
"That was a very interesting story, uncle,"said Elsie, as Dr. Travilla paused. "I hope there's more of it."
"Oh, yes, please go on, Uncle Harold," said Ned. "Our ships took all the Spanish ones, didn't they?"
"Yes; theMaria Teresawas now a wreck also, and theIowawent to the relief of her drowning and burning men. Admiral Cervera was taken prisoner and brought on board theIowa. When he stepped aboard, with his staff, Captain Evans stood with uncovered head, and the marine guard presented arms. Captain Eulate stepped toward him, touched his sword with his hand and pressed it to his breast, crying out in Spanish, pointing toward Captain Evans, evidently extolling his bravery and generosity. The admiral made a courtly bow to Captain Evans, and shook hands with him. The rest of the Spanish officers kissed the hand of the Spanish admiral four times, and embraced and kissed Captain Eulate. The men of the crew, too, would now and then see a comrade whom they had supposed dead, and they would fall to embracing and kissing."
"Did Captain Evans thank God for his victory, as Captain Philip did, uncle?" asked Elsie.
"No; but when some one blamed him for not having done so, he said that while preparations were being made for it he found that he was surrounded by boats carrying dying and wounded prisoners, and others of the crew of theVizcaya, to the number of two hundred and fifty. 'To leave these men to suffer for want of food and clothing, while I called my men aft to offer prayers, was not my idea of either Christianity or religion,' he wrote in reply. 'I preferred to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and succor the sick, and I am strongly of the opinion that Almighty God has not put a black mark against me on account of it. I do not know whether I shall stand with Captain Philip among the first chosen in the hereafter, but I have this to say in conclusion, that every drop of blood in my body on the afternoon of July 3d, was singing thanks and praise to Almighty God for the victory we had won.'"