"'You do indeed make us envy you, sir,' cried St. James, as he stood with uncovered head in the centre of the boat, while it glided from the walls, and holding up the bouquet which he had had the boldness to retain.
"The statesman smiled and shook his snow-crowned head, and there he stood, long after we receded from the rocks, his tall, erect figure defined on the dark blue sky.
"I never saw that noble form again. The brave old soldier died a soldier of the Cross, and fills a Christian's grave. He sleeps in death, embosomed in the quiet shades he loved best in life.
'And Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To deck the turf that wraps his clay.'
"I did not think of paying this tribute to his memory; but that scene was so indelibly stamped on my mind, I could not help delineating it. It was then and there I first beheld your father.
"The barge was rowed by eight soldiers, dressed in uniform, and their oars all dipped and flashed with simultaneous motion. Nothing could be more harmoniously beautiful; but the restless spirit of Mrs. Lynn suggested a change.
"'Raise the sail,' she exclaimed, 'this is too monotonous. I prefer it a thousand times to rowing.'
"'I beg, I entreat, madam,' cried I, unable to repress my apprehensions, 'do not have it done now. I am very foolish, but I cannot help it, indeed I cannot.'
"I was not accustomed to the water as she was, having been absent so long; and even when a child, I had an unconquerable dread of sailing. She knew this, and it prompted her suggestion.
"'Affectation of fear may be pardoned in a child, Rosalie,' said she, with a sarcastic smile, 'but it is nevertheless very unbecoming.'