the depths of ocean; but my faith is strong that ye are happy; for
whenever I behold your forms, whether in dream or vision, each
departed friend is puffing his long-nine, and a mug of the right
blackstrap goes round from lip to lip.

But where was the mermaid in those delightful times? At a certain
window near the centre of the village appeared a pretty display of
gingerbread men and horses, picture-books and ballads, small fish-
hooks, pins, needles, sugar-plums, and brass thimbles, articles on
which the young fishermen used to expend their money from pure
gallantry. What a picture was Susan behind the counter! A slender
maiden, though the child of rugged parents, she had the slimmest of
all waists, brown hair curling on her neck, and a complexion rather
pale, except when the sea-breeze flushed it. A few freckles became
beauty-spots beneath her eyelids. How was it, Susan, that you talked
and acted so carelessly, yet always for the best, doing whatever was
right in your own eyes, and never once doing wrong in mine, nor
shocked a taste that had been morbidly sensitive till now? And whence
had you that happiest gift, of brightening every topic with an
unsought gayety, quiet but irresistible, so that even loomy spirits
felt your sunshine, and did not shrink from it? Nature wrought the
charm. She made you a frank, simple, kind-hearted, sensible, and
mirthful girl. Obeying nature, you did free things without
indelicacy, displayed a maiden's thoughts to every eye, and proved
yourself as innocent as naked Eve.

It was beautiful to observe, how her simple and happy nature mingled
itself with mine. She kindled a domestic fire within my heart, and
took up her dwelling there, even in that chill and lonesome cavern
hung round with glittering icicles of fancy. She gave me warmth of