Before he left on this cruise, the men and officers of the _Tonneraire_ were delighted to receive letters from home. Jack took his little packet with a beating heart, and, retiring to his cabin, gave orders that he was not to be disturbed until he should again appear. Ah, no one save a sailor knows the real delight experienced in receiving letters from home! And here was one in his father's handwriting. Why, it was dated from Ireland; and that is where the general was stationed, waiting, as he said, to give a true Highland welcome to the French as soon as they should land. It said nothing about the lost estate and the bonnie house that once was their home; but it was bold and hopeful throughout. The general had heard of all Jack's doings, and was proud of such a son. He concluded with a fatherly blessing, bidding him never forget he was a Grant Mackenzie. Then he opened Flora's letter. Sisterly throughout. She was as happy at Torquay as she could expect to be, but longed--oh so much--to see her dear brother once more. Then she went on to talk of old times, and how happy they would be when they were all together once again. So it concluded, without one word about Gerty. He laid the letter down with a sigh. A strange sense of loneliness, of forsakenness, took possession of his heart. He thought he had forgotten his false love. At this moment she seemed dearer to him than ever. He next took slowly up from the table a letter in a strange, ill-spelt, scrawly hand, and opened it mechanically. But his face brightened as he began to read. I append a portion of it with a few corrections:-- "MY DEAR LUV,--Which it is me as misses you. Yes, Master Jack, me and missus too, though you promised to marry me when you grew a man, and used to give me such sweet kisses. Oh, I wish I had some now! I know'd as that was only Jack's little joke. Me a servant girl, and you a big, tall, beautiful officer. But, la! the larks as we used to 'ave when putting you to bed. It makes me larf now to think of 'em; and how you wouldn't go to sleep till I lay down beside you and sung you off. Yes, missus misses you, and so do I. And poor old Sir Digby has been laid up with the gout; and poor dear missus says as how she won't marry him for two years yet to come. And old master's content because he says he knows she'll be Lady Digby by-and-by. But missus she do look so sad and peaky sometimes; only when old Mr. Richards comes she just goes wild with joy, and sits on his knee just like old times, and sometimes, poor child, goes to sleep with her head on his shoulder. But here comes missus, only she mustn't see this letter. No more at present, but remains yours till death, with luv and sweet kisses.--MARY."