e, we may hope to establish an
export trade."

A fresh breeze astern was blowing the _Emperadora_ down the lagoon in a
course straight enough to please even Mrs. Carew, if that lady could
have been pleased by anything aquatic. She was present, in spite of
fears, sitting with the soles of her prunella gaiters pressed tightly
against the little yacht's side under the seat (the peculiarity of the
attitude being concealed by her long skirt), with the intention,
probably, of acting as a species of brake upon too great a speed.

The position was a difficult one. But she kept her balance by means of
her umbrella, firmly inserted in a crack of the planking before her, and
did not swerve.

The broad sails were set wing and wing; the morning was divinely fair.
Down in the south the tall trees looming against the sky seemed like a
line of hills; owing to the lowness of the shores, on a level with the
water, and the smoothness of the sea stretching eastward beyond
Patricio, the comparative effect was the same. Above, the soft sky
bending down all round them, touching here the even land and there the
even water, conveyed nothing of that sense of vastness, of
impersonality, which belongs so often to the American sky further north.
This seemed a particular sky belonging to this especial neighborhood,
made for it, intimate with it; and the yacht, with those on board did
not appear like a floating atom, lost in immensity; on the contrary, it
was important, interesting; one could not rid one's self of the idea
that its little voyage was watched with friendly curiosity by this
bending personal sky, and these near low shores.

The Rev. Mr. Moore had been sent upon this pleasure-party by his wife.
Mrs. Penelope Moore was sure that a pleasure-party would do him good;
the Reverend Middleton therefore endeavored to think the same, though it
was not exactly his idea of pleasure. He was not fond of sailing; there
was generally a breeze, and a breeze he did not enjoy. There was,
indeed, something in his appearance, when exposed to a fresh wind, which
suggested the idea that a portion of it was blowing through him, finding
an exit at his shoulder-blades behind; his lank vest somehow had that
air; and the sensation (so the spectator thought) could hardly have been
an agreeable one to so thin a man, even on the warmest day.

Mrs. Penelope Moore was a brave woman. And she knew that she was brave.
Not being able, on account of her delicate health