we had been seen by
some one who reported us in town. Those who were acquainted received a
warm welcome. The Shepards insisted upon going to the hotel; and I did
not very strongly object, as we had not sufficient accommodations for
them in the house. They remained there a week, for the springs seemed
greatly to improve the health of the lady.

The Islander was started on her voyage to New York the day after her
arrival at Montomercy, for the colonel wanted to use her there soon
after his arrival. When his family were ready to depart, I conveyed
them to Buffalo in the Sylvania. The Tiffanys wanted to see more of the
country, and accompanied the Shepards. Owen had decided to go to
England, and Buck Lingley and Hop Tossford felt obliged to go with him,
though their year was not quite up. I landed my passengers in the canal
basin.

I had not felt so sad since the news came to me of the death of my
father as on this occasion. I parted with Margie Tiffany and her
father--more especially with Margie--with a regret which I cannot
describe. But I was permitted to write to her (and her father) as often
as once a month, and I hope before long to see her in England.

Buck and Hop had not been gone more than an hour before they
re-appeared with "store clothes" on, and did not look at all like the
excellent sailors they were. Their real names were Richard Lawrence and
Edward Blakeley; and when they appeared in their new dress I called
them by their proper names. They were very sorry to leave the Sylvania,
and I expressed the hope that they would come and spend a summer with
me in a cruise around the Great Lakes. They promised to do it, if
possible.

Once more we bade them good-by. We staid in Buffalo to see the party
off for New York; and up to this time that was the last I have seen of
them.

After my father joined our party, I noticed that Owen Garningham was
never himself again. Though he continued to flutter around Miss Edith,
he never seemed to be so well pleased with me as before. Yet I do not
think he had anything against me. I could only attribute the change in
him to the cancelling of the contract for the use of the Sylvania for a
year, though he had said very little about the matter. He parted with
me, I think with real sorrow, and hoped he should see me again before
even another year had passed by.

I saw my cousin seated in the car by the side of Miss Edith. He sailed
for England in June, but I have no idea how he