ith those
around him, it was scarcely a matter of surprise that for some weeks
Captain Sydney took but little notice of the sailor of whom I have
been speaking. But chance at length brought him more fully beneath the
scope of his observation. While one day walking in the garden, buried
in thought, almost unconsciously he neared the spot generally occupied
by the invalid. But he heeded not the vicinity till startled by the
sound of a hollow cough, and looking hastily up, he met the gaze of
the feeble stranger. A half-suppressed cry burst from the latter, and
springing quickly forward, Captain Sydney caught him in his arms,
while the words, "Harry! my son--my son!" came in a tone of agony from
his lips. But he heeded not the caresses--he answered not the words of
mingled endearment and reproach which his parent murmured as he bent
wildly over him; and when at length the stricken father became calm
enough to summon assistance, they told him that the spirit of his
child was at rest.

* * * * *

Such, my dear cousin, was the old man's history; and as he ceased, his
head leaned droopingly upon his hand, while his whole attitude
betokened the most intense mental suffering. For some moments there
was silence between us, for I felt that words were insufficient to
console him. But suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound of
lively voices approaching, and I recognized the tones of my
long-absent companions, and knew that they were close at hand. In a
few seconds more, they appeared near the stone-fence, which I have
once before alluded to. The old sailor evidently wished to avoid them,
for their gayety was discordant to his feelings. Rising from his seat,
he now drew closer to the spot where I was stationed.

"Farewell, young lady," were his parting words, as he clasped my
extended hand, and for a moment that pale, sad face, looked so
mournfully into mine, that tears of the deepest commiseration sprung
involuntarily to my eyes, "we may never meet again, and I trust you
will forgive me, if the repetition of my sorrows has cast a shadow
upon your heart. Remember me in your prayers, if you will, and ask
that I may soon be borne to my last repose in the little grave-yard
yonder, where my son lies sleeping. Farewell."

An instant more and he was gone--and for some moments I remained
seated where he had left me, patiently awaiting the approach of my
friends, and meanwhile musing earnestly and sadly upon the Sa