d's hat was looped up on one side by a rosette of
silver lace, his shoe-buckles were of massive silver, his neckcloth was
of silk, and his coat of fine cloth, betokening that he was of the rank
of a gentleman, and that, if a Puritan, he had taken no small pains to
set his person off to the best advantage.

"Faith! I had no idea that I had been so long hidden away in my cosy
nook, and if you had not ferreted me out, Stephen, I should likely
enough have lain _perdu_ for another hour or more," answered Roger, a
sturdy blue-eyed boy, apparently a year or two younger than Stephen
Battiscombe, and of the same station in life; but his dress, though of
gayer colours and less precise cut than that of his friend, was somewhat
threadbare, and put on as if he had not troubled himself much about the
matter. "See, I have been studying the art of navigation, and begin to
hope that I shall be able to sail a ship through distant seas as well as
Drake or Cavendish, or Sir Martin Frobisher, or Sir Richard Grenville,
or the great Christopher Columbus himself,--ay, and maybe to imitate
their gallant deeds," he continued, holding up a small well-thumbed
volume. "I have not made as much progress this morning as I expected to
do, for I have ever and anon been watching yonder fine ship, which has
long been in sight, striving to beat down Channel against this light
westerly breeze, but for some time past she has made no progress, or
rather has been drifting back to the eastward."

"It seems to me that she is standing in this way," observed Stephen,
shading his eyes with his hand from the noonday sun. "Certes, she is a
goodly craft, and light as is the wind slips swiftly through the water."

"Would that I were on board of her!" exclaimed Roger. "She is doubtless
bound out to some of those strange lands of which I have read in Master
Purchas _Pilgrims_, and many another book of voyages. How I long to
visit those regions, and to behold with mine own eyes the wonderful
sights they present!"

"Many, you should understand, are mere travellers' tales--lying fables--
such as Sir John de Mandeville would make us believe about monsters,
half man and half beast, and people walking about with their heads under
their arms, and cities of marble, the windows of precious stones, and
the streets paved with gold, and such like extravagances," observed
Stephen. "I much doubt also whether your father will readily accede to
your wishes. Think how he would