for Grace, and so much confidence in Lucy's sound judgment, that I was
not to be turned aside from the completion of my purpose. It is now
more than forty years since the interview took place in which this
confidence was bestowed; but every minute occurrence connected with it
is as fresh in my mind as if the whole had taken place only yesterday.

We were all four of us seated on a rude bench that my mother had
caused to be placed under the shade of an enormous oak that stood on
the most picturesque spot, perhaps, on the whole farm, and which
commanded a distant view of one of the loveliest reaches of the
Hudson. Our side of the river, in general, does not possess as fine
views as the eastern, for the reason that all our own broken, and in
some instances magnificent back-ground of mountains, fills up the
landscape for our neighbours, while we are obliged to receive the
picture as it is set in a humbler frame; but there are exquisite bits
to be found on the western bank, and this was one of the very best of
them. The water was as placid as molten silver, and the sails of every
vessel in sight were hanging in listless idleness from their several
spars, representing commerce asleep. Grace had a deep feeling for
natural scenery, and she had a better mode of expressing her thoughts,
on such occasions, than is usual with girls of fourteen. She first
drew our attention to the view by one of her strong, eloquent bursts
of eulogium; and Lucy met the remark with a truthful, simple answer,
that showed abundant sympathy with the sentiment, though with less of
exaggeration of manner and feeling, perhaps. I seized the moment as
favourable for my purpose, and spoke out.

"If you admire a vessel so much, Grace," I said, "you will probably be
glad to hear that I think of becoming a sailor."