The Sea Lion left Oyster Pond late in September.  It was the third day of March, in the succeeding year, that Mary was standing at a window, gazing with melancholy interest at that point in the adjacent waters where last she had seen, nearly six months before, the vessel of Roswell disappear behind the woods of the island that bears his family name.  There had been a long easterly gale, but the weather had changed; the south wind blew softly, and all the indications of an early spring were visible.  For the first time in three months, she had raised the sash of that window; and the air that entered was bland, and savoured of the approaching season.

“I dare say, uncle”—­the deacon was writing near a very low wood-fire, which was scarcely more than embers—­“I dare say, uncle,” said the sweet voice of Mary, which was a little tremulous with feeling, “that the ocean is calm enough to-day.  It is very silly in us to tremble, when there is a storm, for those who must now be so many, many thousand miles away.  What is the distance between the Antarctic Seas and Oyster Pond, I wonder?”

“You ought to be able to calculate that yourself, gal, or what is the use to pay for your schooling?”

“I should not know how to set about it, uncle,” returned the gentle Mary, “though I should be very glad to know.”

“How many miles are there in a degree of latitude child?  You know that, I believe.”

“More than sixty-nine, sir.”

“Well, in what latitude is Oyster Pond?”

“I have heard Roswell say that we were a little higher, as he calls it, than forty-one.”

“Well, 41 times 69”—­figuring as he spoke—­“make 2829; say we are 3000 miles from the equator, the nearest way we can get there.  Then, the antarctic circle commences in 23 deg. 30’ south, which, deducted from 90 degrees, leave just 66 deg. 30’ between the equator and the nearest spot within the sea you have mentioned.  Now, 66 deg. 30’ give about 4589 statute miles more, in a straight line, allowing only 69 to a degree.  The two sums, added together, make 7589 miles, or rather more.  But the road is not straight, by any means, as shipmasters tell me; and I suppose Gar’ner must have gone, at the very least, 8000 miles to reach his latitude, to say nothing of a considerable distance of longitude to travel over, to the southward of Cape Horn.”

“It is a terrible distance to have a friend from us!” ejaculated Mary, though in a low, dejected tone.

“It is a terrible distance for a man to trust his property away from him, gal; and I do not sleep a-nights for thinking of it, when I remember where my own schooner may be all this time!”

“Ah, here is Baiting Joe, and with a letter in his hand, uncle, I do declare!”

It might be a secret hope that impelled Mary, for away she bounded, like a young fawn, running to meet the old fisherman at the door.  No sooner did her eyes fall on the superscription, than the large package was pressed to her heart, and she seemed, for an instant, lost in thanksgiving.  That no one might unnecessarily be a witness of what passed between her uncle and herself, Joe was directed to the kitchen, where a good meal, a glass of rum and water, and the quarter of a dollar that Mary gave him as she showed the way, satisfied him with the results of his trouble.