e understood how unfitted he was for the hard service he
entered upon so blindly.

One day, it was over a year from the time that Mark left Fairview,
Mr. Lofton sent for Jenny, and, on her coming into his room, handed
her a sealed letter, but without making any remark. On it was
superscribed her name; and it bore, besides, the word "Ship" in red
printed letters, "Valparaiso," also, was written upon it. Jenny
looked at the letter wonderingly, for a moment or two, and then,
with her heart throbbing wildly, left the room. On breaking the
seal, she found the letter to be from Mark. It was as follows:

"U. S. SHIP ----, Valparaiso, September 4, 18--,

"MY GENTLE FRIEND.--A year has passed since our brief meeting and
unhappy parting. I do not think you have forgotten me in that time;
you may be sure I have not forgotten you. The memory of one about
whom we conversed, alone would keep your image green in my thoughts.
Of the rash step I took you have no doubt heard. In anger at unjust
treatment both from my father and grandfather, I was weak enough to
enter the United States' service as a sailor. Having committed this
folly, and being unwilling to humble myself, and appeal to friends
who had wronged me for their interest to get me released, I have
looked the hardship and degradation before me in the face, and
sought to encounter it manfully. The ordeal has been thus far most
severe, and I have yet two years of trial before me. As I am where I
am by my own act, I will not complain, and yet, I have felt it hard
to be cut off from all the sympathy and kind interest of my
friends--to have no word from home--to feel that none cares for me.
I know that I have offended both my father and grandfather past
forgiveness, and my mind is made up to seek for no reconciliation
with them. I cannot stoop to that. I have too much of the blood of
the Loftons in my veins.

"But why write this to you, Jenny? You will hardly understand how
such feelings can govern any heart--your own is so gentle and
innocent in all of its impulses. I have other things to say to you!
Since our meeting I have never ceased to think of you! I need no
picture of your face, for I see it ever before me as distinctly as
if sketched by the painter's art. I sometimes ask myself
wonderingly, how it is that you, a simple country maiden, could, in
one or two brief meetings, have made so strong an impression upon
me? But, you bore my mother's name, and your face was like