I have omitted to mention it, by the by. Miss Mills had sailed, and Dora and I had gone aboard a great East Indiaman at Gravesend to see her; and we had had preserved ginger, and guava, and other delicacies of that sort for lunch; and we had left Miss Mills weeping on a campstool on the quarterdeck, with a large new diary under her arm, in which the original reflections awakened by the contemplation of Ocean were to be recorded under lock and key.

Agnes said she was afraid I must have given her an unpromising character; but Dora corrected that directly.

“Oh no!” she said, shaking her curls at me; “it was all praise. He thinks so much of your opinion, that I was quite afraid of it.”

“My good opinion cannot strengthen his attachment to some people whom he knows,” said Agnes, with a smile; “it is not worth their having.”

“But please let me have it,” said Dora, in her coaxing way, “if you can!”