into sections, I believe that I have given a catalogue of the whole furniture.  When I followed Bramble into the room, a little girl of about nine or ten years old ran into his arms, as he stooped down to receive her.  She was a pretty child, with a very fair skin and rosy cheeks, her hair and eyes of a very dark brown, almost approaching to black; but she was not, in my opinion, near so pretty as my sister Virginia.  As Bramble kissed her, she exclaimed, “Oh, father, I am so glad you are come home!  Mrs. Maddox has been in bed ever since you left; her leg is very bad indeed.”

“Whew!” whistled Bramble, “I’m sorry to hear that of the old lady; and how have you got on without her assistance?”

“Why, don’t you think I’m very tidy, father?” said she, looking round the room.

“Yes, Bessy, you are very tidy; and it’s a pleasure to come home to a tidy clean house.  Here is a companion for you.  I told you he was coming, and you know his name.”

“It’s Tom Saunders, isn’t it, father?”

“Yes, that’s his name, for want of a better—­so I leave you to make friends, while I go up and see the poor old lady.”

“You look cold and pale, are you not well?” was the first question of little Bessy.

“I’m cold, and not very well,” replied I; “I have not been used to knocking about on board ship.”

“Very true; I forgot you had never been at sea before.  Come to the fire, then, and sit in father’s big chair.”

“I never knew that your father had been married.  I thought Peter Anderson said that he was a bachelor.”

“And so he is,” replied Bessy.  “I’m not his daughter, although I call him father.”

“Indeed! then whose daughter are you? and who is the old lady upstairs?”

“The old lady upstairs is the widow of the pilot with whom father served his time.  Her husband was lost at sea, and she keeps father’s house.  Father picked me up at sea, and has taken care of me ever since.”

“Then you don’t remember your own parents?”

“No, I recollect nothing till I found myself in this house.  Father says I’m a Dutchman, because it was a Dutch ship or a Dutch boat which I was taken out of.”

“And how long was that ago?”

“Nine years ago.  I am now, I believe, about ten years old.”

Bessy then catechised me relative to my own family, and I had not answered all her questions when Bramble came downstairs.

“Bessy, dear, we must have the doctor to look at that leg again.  I’m afeard that it will never get well.  Missus is too old to shake it off.”

“Shall I go now, father?”

“Yes, child, go now, for she’s in great pain with it; and Tom, you go with Bessy and take care of her.  But, before you go, give me some ’baccy and the odds and ends.”