ght
and afterwards."

"DEAR COUSIN FANNY, I canna write all I set out to, for word come to me,
just as I wrote the last sentence above, that the ship was to leave port
three days sooner than was fixed for when I began. I have been rare
and busy since then, and I have no time to write more. And so 'twill be
another year before you get a word from me; but I hope that when this
letter comes you'll write one back to me by the ship that sails next
summer from London. The summer's short and the winter's long here,
Cousin Fanny, and there's more snow than grass; and there's more flowers
in a week in Mablethorpe than in a whole year here. But, lass, the sun
shines always, and my heart keeps warm in thinkin' of you, and I ask you
to forgive me for any harsh word I ever spoke, not forgettin' that last
night when I left you on the sands, and stole away like a thief across
the sea. I'm going to tell you the whole truth in my next letter, but
I'd like you to forgive me before you know it all, for 'tis a right
lonely and distant land, this, and who can tell what may come to pass in
twice a twelve month! Maybe a prayer on lips like mine doesn't seem in
place, for I've not lived as parson says man ought to live, but I think
the Lord will have no worse thought o' me when I say, God bless thee,
lass, and keep thee safe as any flower in His garden that He watereth
with His own hand. Write to me, lass: I love thee still, I do love thee.

"DICK ORRY."

II

THE BOOK-IN-HAND INN,
MABLETHORPE, LINCOLNSHIRE.
May-Day, 1749.

"DEAR COUSIN DICK,--I think I have not been so glad in many years as
when I got your letter last Guy Fawkes Day. I was coming from the church
where the parson preached on plots and treasons, and obedience to the
King, when I saw the old postman coming down the road. I made quickly to
him, I know not why, for I had not thought to hear from you, and before
I reached him he held up his hand, showing me the stout packet which
brought me news of you. I hurried with it to the inn, and went straight
to my room and sat down by the window, where I used to watch for your
coming with the fishing fleet, down the sea from the Dogger Bank. I was
only a girl, a young girl, then, and the Dogger Bank was, to my mind, as
far off as that place you call York Factory, in Hudson's Bay, is to me
now. And yet I did not know how very far it was until ou