At ten o’clock I took leave of Bessie, having sealed my affections for her with a kiss, and wiped away the tear that hung so touchingly in her eye, as she said in a subdued voice, “Perhaps we shall never, never meet again.  But if you will not forget me, I will not forget you.”  To which I replied that death only would make me forget her, since there was written in her face loveliness so perfect, that time could only brighten it in my memory.  Again she blushed, and cast upon me such a bewitching look that it almost made me falter in my resolution to leave her behind.  And my faltering increased as her warm hand pressed mine, and the words, “Will you write to me, and give relief to one whose thoughts will follow you?” hung tremblingly upon her lips.  But just then I saw what a great soul she had within her, and how when moved she would tread upon that dangerous brink, from which so many launch into a world of woe.  I pressed her hand in return, and bade her adieu; promising never to forget her, nor allow another to beguile my fancies, but to be unto her as I felt she would be unto me-the angel of my dreams.

Hastening on board of the “Two Marys,” I was received with great consideration by Captain Luke Snider, who said he was delighted at the prospect of having so distinguished a passenger, and with no little ceremony introduced me to his wife.  A gentle wind blew fair, the peak of the “Two Marys’” mainsail hung in lazy folds, and the great jib, partly set, flapped every few minutes, as if eager for the great event of the major’s arrival, which was waited by an anxious crowd of idlers, who had gathered on the wharf, and who were diverting themselves with divers jeers at Captain Snider, of whom it seemed they had no very high opinion.  Suddenly a great noise was heard in the distance, and the rotund figure of the major, mounted upon old Battle, and dressed in a slouchy suit of Uxbridge satinet, made his appearance, followed by a mob of boys, hooting and shouting at the very top of their voices.  The animal, not at all disturbed by the singular character of the ovation, moved forward at a methodical pace, whilst the major, judging from his extreme good humor, was not a little delighted at the honors he imagined were being showered upon him.  No sooner did the crowd on the wharf get news of the major’s approach, than they sent up a deafening shout, and hastened to meet him with so much determination to do him homage, that even old Battle began to prick up his ears.  Two mischievous urchins now tied a small air balloon to old Battle’s tail, while another would every few minutes switch his gambrels with a twig of thorn, and so make him jerk his hinder legs as nearly to throw the indomitable major over his head.  Duncan, the pig, was led by a boy at some distance, and performed his part in the comical programme by keeping up a medley of discordant squeals.  And what with the barking of dogs, who seemed to claim a right to take part in the proceedings, and the squealing of pigs,