meness of restraint, which they would never have felt if they had
possessed the power of separation; and would have lived happily together
if they had not been compelled to do it. "How long you, my dear Frank,"
said Eugenia to me one day, "may continue to love me, I know not; but
the moment you cease to love me, it were better that we parted."

These were certainly the sentiments of an enthusiast; but Eugenia lived
long enough to acknowledge her error, and to bewail its fatal effects on
her peace of mind. I was awoke from this dream of happiness by a
curious incident. I thought it disastrous at the time, but am now
convinced that it was fraught with good, since it brought me back to my
profession, recalled me to a sense of duty, and showed me the full
extent of my disgraceful situation. My father, it appears, was still
ignorant of my absence from my ship, and had come down, without my
knowledge, on a visit to a friend in the neighbourhood. Hearing of the
"interesting young man" who had acquired so much credit in the character
of Apollo, as well as of Romeo, he was persuaded to see the performance.

I was in the act of singing "Pray Goody," when my eyes suddenly met
those of my papa, who was staring like the head of Gorgon; and though
his gaze did not turn me to stone, it turned me sick. I was stupified,
forgot my part, ran off, and left the manager and the music to make the
best of it. My father, who could hardly believe his eyes, was convinced
when he saw my confusion. I ran into the dressing-room, where, before I
had time to divest myself of Apollo's crown and petticoat, I was
accosted by my enraged parent, and it is quite impossible for me to
describe (taking my costume into consideration) how very much like a
fool I looked.

My father sternly demanded how long I had been thus honourably employed.
This was a question which I had anticipated, and, therefore, very
readily replied, "Only two or three days;" that I had left Portsmouth
for what we called "a lark," and I thought it very amusing.

"Very amusing, indeed, sir," said my father; "and, pray, may I venture
to inquire, without the fear of having a lie told me, how long this
`lark,' as you call it, is to continue?"

"Oh, to-morrow," said I, "my leave expires, and then I must return to my
ship."

"Allow me the honour of keeping your company," said my father; "and I
shall beg your captain to impose some little restraint as to time and
distance on your f