oint where they had so
lately seemed attracted to a closer union. In an hour the way was clear,
and the boats towed the schooner stern foremost into the broader passage.

Chapter XX.

"A voice upon the prairies,
A cry of woman's woe,
That mingleth with the autumn blast
All fitfully and low."

Mrs. Sigourney.

The accident to the Sea Lion of the Vineyard occurred very near the close
of the month of March, which, in the southern hemisphere, corresponds to
our month of September. This was somewhat late for a vessel to remain in
so high a latitude, though it was not absolutely dangerous to be found
there several weeks longer. We have given a glance at Mary Pratt and her
uncle, about this time; but it has now become expedient to carry the
reader forward for a considerable period, and take another look at our
heroine and her miserly uncle, some seven months later. In that interval a
great change had come over the deacon and his niece; and hope had nearly
deserted all those who had friends on board the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond,
as the following explanation will show was reasonable, and to be expected.

When Captain Gardiner sailed, it was understood that his absence would not
extend beyond a single season. All who had friends and connections on
board his schooner, had been assured of this; and great was the anxiety,
and deep the disappointment, when the first of our own summer months
failed to bring back the adventurers. As week succeeded week, and the
vessel did not return, the concern increased, until hope began to be lost
in apprehension. Deacon Pratt groaned in spirit over his loss, finding
little consolation in the gains secured by means of the oil sent home, as
is apt to be the case with the avaricious, when their hearts are once set
on gain. As for Mary, the load on _her_ heart increased in weight, as it
might be, day by day, until those smiles, which had caused her sweet
countenance to be radiant with innocent joy, entirely disappeared, and she
was seen to smile no more. Still, complaints never passed her lips. She
prayed much, and found all her relief in such pursuits as comported with
her feelings, but she seldom spoke of her grief; never, except at weak
moments, when her querulous kinsman introduced the subject, in his
frequent lamentations over his losses.

The month of November is apt to be stormy on the Atlantic coasts of the
republic. It is true that the heaviest gales do not then