this was done, I ordered a crew shipped, and the hatches
battened on.

As a matter of course, the constant and important business with which I
was now occupied, had a tendency to dull the edge of my grief, though I
can truly say that the image of Grace was never long absent from my mind,
even in the midst of my greatest exertions. Nor was Lucy forgotten. She
was usually at my sister's side; and it never happened that I remembered
the latter, without seeing the beautiful semblance of her living friend,
watching over her faded form, with sisterly solicitude. John Wallingford
left me, at the end of a week, after seeing me fairly under way as a
merchant, as well as ship-owner and ship-master.

"Farewell, Miles," he said, as he shook my hand with a cordiality that
appeared to increase the longer he knew me, "farewell, my dear boy, and
may God prosper you in all your lawful and just undertakings. Never forget
you are a Wallingford, and the owner of Clawbonny. Should we meet again,
you will find a true friend in me; should we never meet, you will have
reason to remember me."

This leave-taking occurred at the inn. A few hours later I was in the
cabin of the Dawn, arranging some papers, when I heard a well-known voice,
on deck, calling out to the stevedores and riggers, in a tone of
authority--"Come, bear a hand, and lay aft; off that forecastle; to this
derrick,--who ever saw a derrick standing before, after the hatches were
battened down, in a first-class ship!--a regular A. No. 1? Bear a
hand--bear a hand; you've got an old sea-dog among you, men."

There was no mistaking the person. On reaching the deck, I found Marble,
his coat off, but still wearing all the rest of his "go-ashores,"
flourishing about among the labourers, putting into them new life and
activity. He heard my footsteps behind him, but never turned to salute me,
until the matter in hand was terminated. Then I received that honour, and
it was easy to see the cloud that passed over his red visage, as he
observed the deep mourning in which I was clad.

"Good morning to you, Captain Wallingford," he said, making a mate's
bow,--"good morning, sir. God's will be done! we are all sinners, and so
are some of the stevedores, who've left this derrick standing as if the
ship needed it for a jury-mast. Yes, sir, God's will must be submitted to;
and sorry enough was I to read the obittery in the newspapers--Grace, &c.,
daughter, &c., and only sister, &c.--You'll be g