er lay
upon the waters of the Pacific awaiting our arrival.

"Having embarked, I found a little vacant nook, under the awning,
where I am now writing, while the scenes of to-day are still fresh in
my mind.

"I was enchanted as we passed swiftly over the narrow neck of land
dividing the two oceans. The dense, vine-clad forests, alive with
birds of every brilliant hue, and bordered with gorgeous flowers; the
low thatched huts of the natives, and the natives themselves in
holiday dress of thin white, all conspired to awaken the most pleasing
emotions.

"The villages at both ends of the route were swarming with natives,
the women with baskets of cake and fruit and beautiful birds for sale,
the men eager to carry our luggage for 'two bits.'

"A small proportion of the women were bright and pretty; one really
beautiful, with liquid eyes and smooth jet braids, upon which were
fantastically perched a pair of green, trained birds, was very
popular with the passengers, and soon emptied her basket.

"I purchased her pet paroquets and sent them to console Flora, whom I
left sobbing quite piteously in the Captain's arms. We promised her
papa to make our arrangements to return on his steamer and his promise
to lash me to the rigging in the event of a storm still holds good."

CHAPTER XXXV.

A VISIT TO MRS. SHERMAN'S ROOM--DADDY AND HIS NEW
SPOUSE--OMINOUS SIGNS.

Before opening another letter, let us pay a flying visit to the
Sherman family, and also to Daddy and his spouse.

The former are to be found in their old quarters at Pendleton, the
latter installed in the brown house at Chimney Rock.

It is near midnight, rather an unseasonable hour to intrude upon our
friends, but no matter; at the house we shall first enter; regular
habits do not prevail.

We will now imagine ourselves in the broad hall, on the second floor
of the finest hotel in Pendleton.

Open softly the door at your right. There the eldest Mrs. Sherman lies
sleeping. Her grey hair is parted smoothly under her white frilled
cap, her hands are folded resignedly upon her breast, and the angel of
her dreams has imprinted upon her features the chastened smile so
often seen upon the face of age.

We would fain prolong her slumbers, for, alas, we cannot stay the
swiftly drifting cloud, that is coming to darken her waking hours: the
silver lining of which she will not see, until, a spirit winged for
glory, she soars above it.

A confusion o