of anything but each other.  They were on a voyage of their own, Heaven help them! probably without any chart, a voyage of discovery, just as fresh and surprising as if they were the first who ever took it.  It made no difference to them that there was a personally conducted excursion party on board, going, they said, to the Oceanic House on Star Island, who had out their maps and guide-books and opera-glasses, and wrung the last drop of the cost of their tickets out of every foot of the scenery.  Perhaps it was to King a more sentimental journey than to anybody else, because he invoked his memory and his imagination, and as the lovely shores opened or fell away behind the steamer in ever-shifting forms of beauty, the scene was in harmony with both his hope and his longing.  As to Marion and the artist, they freely appropriated and enjoyed it.  So that mediaeval structure, all tower, growing out of the rock, is Stedman’s Castle—­just like him, to let his art spring out of nature in that way.  And that is the famous Kittery Navy-yard!

“What do they do there, uncle?” asked the girl, after scanning the place in search of dry-docks and vessels and the usual accompaniments of a navy-yard.

“Oh, they make ‘repairs,’ principally just before an election.  It is very busy then.”

“What sort of repairs?”

“Why, political repairs; they call them naval in the department.  They are always getting appropriations for them.  I suppose that this country is better off for naval repairs than any other country in the world.”

“And they are done here?”

“No; they are done in the department.  Here is where the voters are.  You see, we have a political navy.  It costs about as much as those navies that have ships and guns, but it is more in accord with the peaceful spirit of the age.  Did you never hear of the leading case of ‘repairs’ of a government vessel here at Kittery?  The ‘repairs’ were all done here, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire; the vessel lay all the time at Portsmouth, Virginia.  How should the department know that there were two places of the same name?  It usually intends to have ‘repairs’ and the vessel in the same navy-yard.”

The steamer was gliding along over smooth water towards the seven blessed isles, which lay there in the sun, masses of rock set in a sea sparkling with diamond points.  There were two pretty girls in the pilot-house, and the artist thought their presence there accounted for the serene voyage, for the masts of a wrecked schooner rising out of the shallows to the north reminded him that this is a dangerous coast.  But he said the passengers would have a greater sense of security if the usual placard (for the benefit of the captain) was put up:  “No flirting with the girl at the wheel.”

At a distance nothing could be more barren than these islands, which Captain John Smith and their native poet have enveloped in a halo of romance, and it was not until the steamer was close to it that any landing-place was visible on Appledore, the largest of the group.