"Oh, how beautiful!" was her involuntary exclamation. Then catching
sight of her father standing with his back toward her, and apparently
absorbed in gazing upon the sunrise, she hastened to his side, caught
his hand in hers, and carried it to her lips with a glad, "Good-morning,
you dear papa."

"Ah! good-morning, my darling," he returned, bending down to press a
kiss on the bright, upturned face.

"Such a lovely morning, papa, isn't it?" she said, standing with her
hand fast clasped in his, but turning her eyes again upon sea and sky.
"But where are we now? Almost at Fortress Monroe?"

"Look and tell me what you see," was his smiling rejoinder, as, with a
hand on each of her shoulders, he turned her about so that she caught
the view from the other side of the vessel.

"O papa, is that it?" she exclaimed. "Why, we're almost there, aren't
we?"

"Yes; we will reach our anchorage within a few minutes."

"Oh, are we going to stop to see the old fort, papa?" she asked eagerly.

"I think we are," was his smiling rejoinder. "But you don't expect to
find in it a relic of the Revolution, do you?" he asked laughingly,
pinching her cheek, then bending down to kiss again the rosy face
upturned to his.