iercing through from the hold into the outer world. But the little ship
became more buoyant every day, and finally stood ready for her
deck. This I prepared by planing down a bit of plank to the proper
thickness--or thinness--and carefully fitted it into its place, with
companionways fore and aft, covered with hatches made to slide in
grooves. Next, with chisel, spoke-shave, and sand-paper, I prepared
the mast and fitted a top-mast to it, and secured it in its place with
shrouds and stays of fine, waxed fishing-line. The boom and gaff
were then put in place, and Fanny Wrigley (who had aforetime made my
pasteboard armor and helmet) now made me a main-sail, top-sail, and jib
out of the most delicate linen, beautifully hemmed, and a tiny American
flag to hoist to the peak. It only remained to paint her; I was provided
with three delectable cans of oil-paint, and I gave her a bright-green
under-body, a black upper-body, and white port-holes with a narrow red
line running underneath them. Thus decorated, and with her sails
set, she was a splendid object, and the boys with bought models were
depressed with envy, especially when I called their attention to the
stars and stripes. This boat-building mania of mine had originated while
we were at Mrs. Blodgett's, where the captain of one of the clippers
gave me a beautiful model of his own ship, fully rigged, and perfect
in every detail; only it would not sail, being solid. Concerning
his clipper, by-the-way, I once overheard a bit of dialogue in Mrs.
Blodgett's smoking-room between my captain and another. "Do you mean to
say," demanded the latter, "that you passed the Lightning?" To which
my captain replied, in measured and impressive tones,
"I-passed-the-Lightning!" The Lightning, it may be remarked, was at that
time considered the queen of the Atlantic passage; she had made the trip
between Boston and Liverpool in ten days. But my captain had once shown
her his heels, nevertheless. I wanted to christen my sloop The Sea
Eagle, but my father laughed so much at this name that I gave it up;
he suggested The Chub, The Mud-Pout, and other ignoble titles, which I
indignantly rejected, and what her name finally was I have forgotten.
She afforded me immense happiness.

At Southport we had a queer little governess, Miss Brown, who came to us
highly recommended both as to her personal character and for ability to
instruct us in arithmetic and geometry, geography, English composition,
and