"Mrs. Lynn joined a party of ladies, who, escorted by officers, went over in barges to be introduced to the gallant veteran. The martial spirit of my father throbbed high in my bosom, and I longed to behold one, whom he would have delighted to honor. Mrs. Lynn did not urge me, but there were others who supplied her deficiency, and convinced me I was not considered an intruder. Among the gentlemen who composed our party was a stranger, by the name of St. James, to whom Mrs. Lynn paid the most exclusive attention. She was still in the bloom of womanhood, and though far from being beautiful, was showy and attractive. All the embellishments of dress were called into requisition to enhance the charms of nature, and to produce the illusion of youth. She always sought the admiration of strangers, and Mr. St. James was sufficiently distinguished in appearance to render him worthy of her fascinations. I merely noticed that he had a fine person, a graceful air, and a musical voice; then casting my eyes on the sea-green waters, over which our light barge was bounding, I did not lift them again till we were near the dark gray rocks of the Rip-Raps, and I beheld on the brink of the stone steps we were to ascend, a tall and stately form, whose foam-white locks were rustling in the breeze of ocean. There he stood, like the statue of liberty, throned on a granite cliff, with waves rolling below and sunbeams resting on his brow. "As we stepped from the barge and ascended the rugged steps, the chieftain bent his warlike figure and drew us to the platform with all the grace and gallantry of youth. As I was the youngest of the party, he received me with the most endearing familiarity. I almost thought he was going to kiss me, so close he brought his bronzed cheek to mine. "'God bless you, my child!' said he, taking both hands in his and looking earnestly in my face. 'I knew your father well. He was a gallant officer,--a noble, honest man. Peace to his ashes! The soldier fills an honored grave.' "This tribute to my father's memory filled my eyes with tears, while my cheek glowed with gratified pride. I was proud that I was a soldier's daughter, proud to hear his praise from the lips of valor and of rank. "I had brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers as a girlish offering to the veteran. I had been thinking of something pretty and poetical to say when I presented it, but the words died on my lips, and I extended it in silence with the trembling hand of diffidence. "'Now,' said he, with a benignant smile, turning the flowers round and round, as if admiring them all, 'I am the envy of every young man present. They would all exchange the laurels of the soldier for the blossoms gathered by the hand of beauty.' "'Let me have the privilege of holding them for you, sir, while we remain,' said Mr. St. James, with a courtly grace consistent with the name he bore, and they were submitted with equal courtesy to his keeping.