PREFACE.

Three years ago I spent some six weeks on Nantucket Island, making the town of the same name my headquarters, but visiting other points of interest, to which I take the characters of my story; so that in describing the pleasures of a sojourn there during our heated term, I write from experience; though, in addition to my own notes, I have made use of Northrup’s “’Sconset Cottage Life” to refresh my memory and assist me in giving a correct idea of the life led by summer visitors who take up their abode for the season in one of those odd little dwellings which form the “original ’Sconset.”

Should my account of the delights of Nantucket as a summer resort lead any of my readers to try it for themselves, I trust they will not meet with disappointment or find my picture overdrawn.

M.F.

CHAPTER I.

“How happy they,
Who from the toil and tumult of their lives
Steal to look down where naught but ocean strives.”

—­Byron.

“Well, captain, for how long have you Uncle Sam’s permission to stay on shore this time?” asked Mr. Dinsmore, as the family at Ion sat about the breakfast-table on the morning after Captain Raymond’s arrival.

“Just one month certain, sir, with the possibility that the leave of absence may be extended,” was the reply, in a cheery tone; “and as I want to make the very most of it, I propose that our plans for a summer outing be at once discussed, decided upon, and carried out.”

“I second the motion,” said Mr. Dinsmore.  “Are all the grown people agreed?  The consent of the younger ones may safely be taken for granted,” he added, with a smiling glance from one to another.

“I am agreed and ready for suggestions,” replied his wife.

“And I,” said his daughter.

“Vi is, of course, since the proposition comes from her husband,” Edward remarked, with a sportive look at her; then glancing at his own little wife:  “and as I approve, Zoe will be equally ready with her consent.”

“Have you any suggestion to offer, captain?” asked Mr. Dinsmore.

“I have, sir; and it is that we make the island of Nantucket our summer resort for this year, dividing the time, if you like, between Nantucket Town and the quaint little fishing village Siasconset, or ’Sconset, as they call it for short.  There is an odd little box of a cottage there belonging to a friend of mine, a Captain Coffin, which I have partially engaged until the first of September.  It wouldn’t hold nearly all of us, but we may be able to rent another for the season, or we can pitch a tent or two, and those who prefer it can take rooms, with or without board, at the hotels or boarding-houses.  What do you all say?” glancing from his mother-in-law to his wife.

“It sounds very pleasant, captain,” Elsie said; “but please tell us more about it; I’m afraid I must acknowledge shameful ignorance of that portion of my native land.”