satisfied herself with ordering dinner at the bar, and walked out into the little narrow streets of Cowes with her daughter. The first object that Mrs. Merton had in view, was to order a carriage, to take them round the Island on the morrow; and, for this purpose, she went into a fruit-shop nearly opposite the front door of the inn, where she saw a ticket offering carriages for hire. Mrs. Moore, for that was the name of the greengrocer, was a very nice person; and Mrs. Merton soon made an arrangement with her, that a little open carriage should be ready for them at nine the following morning. Mrs. Merton then asked Agnes, where she would like to walk; and Agnes having expressed a strong desire to visit East Cowes, as being the place to which her portmanteau had been so nearly conveyed, Mrs. Merton asked Mrs. Moore, which was the best mode of going. “Oh! there are two ways, ma’am,” said Mrs. Moore. “You can either go by the ferry, at a penny a piece, or you can go in a boat from the pier, and pay a shilling.” “Oh, let us go in the ferry-boat,” cried Agnes; “I never was in a ferry-boat in my life.” Mrs. Merton having ascertained that the ferry-boat was perfectly safe, and that respectable people frequently went by it, determined to indulge her daughter, and they set off in the direction that was pointed out to them. The walk was not a very agreeable one; it was up a narrow street, and a rather steep hill. This appeared very extraordinary both to Agnes and her mamma, as people generally descend to water. At last, however, after a very disagreeable walk, and inquiring their way several times, they began to descend the hill, and soon reached the ferry, where the boat being just ready to go, they took their seats. Agnes and her mamma were both very much amused at the old man who rowed them across. “I thought ferry-boats had generally a rope to keep them steady,” said Mrs. Merton. “So they have for the horse-ferries,” said the old man; “but as for this, I can row it as well without a rope as with one. But it is not everybody that can do that, that is true enough.” As the old man spoke, he gave a vigorous pull, and as he did so, his grey hair blew back from his ruddy and sun-burnt face; while his whole figure presented a striking picture of the good effect which a life of moderate, but regular, labour in the open air has upon the human frame. The ferry-boat was soon across the river; and when Mrs. Merton and her daughter had landed at East Cowes, and were walking on the terrace in front of the Medina Hotel, Agnes could not help observing to her mother, that she thought the old man very conceited; “and it is such a ridiculous thing for a man to be proud of, too,” added she; “rowing a common ferry-boat.”