It was early on an April morning that the merchantman “Bay State” came into —— harbor. Scarcely waiting for daylight, Captain Preston took his way homeward. He found only Mrs. Mason, his sister-in-law, up; but received from her happy greeting, the assurance that all was well. With his heart on his lips, he softly stole up to Dora’s favorite room, a pleasant chamber which looked out on the sea. He entered and reached her bed-side unheard. She was yet sleeping, and Frederic observed that her hair had escaped from her pretty muslin cap, and was floating over her neck and bosom—then looking closer, he saw peering through it, two mischievous black eyes—a pair of bright, parted lips—a rosy, chubby, dimpled little face—yes, caught his first view of his infant boy through a veil of the mother’s beautiful hair. Then, with a light laugh, he bent down, and clasped them both, calling their names, and in a moment, seemed to hold all heaven in his arms. CHAPTER II. “I seek her now—I kneel—I shriek— I clasp her vesture—but she fades, still fades; And she is gone; sweet human love is gone! ’Tis only when they spring to heaven that angels Reveal themselves to you.” BROWNING. From that time the voyages of Captain Preston were not so long as formerly, and he often spent many months, sometimes a year or two with his family. He frequently spoke of resigning his sea-faring life altogether, but was ever concluding that he was not yet in a situation to render the step a prudent one for his business interests. Finally, when he had been about fifteen years married, he set out on what he intended and promised his family should be his last voyage. He was at this time the father of three children; the son, of whom we have spoken, a healthful, high-spirited boy, and two daughters, Pauline and Louise—the first greatly resembling her father, the second very like the mother. Captain Preston was pained to leave his gentle wife looking paler and more thin than usual, and to observe, for she said nothing of it, that she was troubled with a slight cough. Yet he was of a most hopeful spirit, and even as he heard her low voice, and saw her faint smile, so much sadder than tears, he trusted that the coming summer would bring her health, and more cheerful spirits. Mrs. Preston had usually a remarkable control over her painful emotions, and was peculiarly calm in all seasons of trial; but at this parting, she clung long and closely about her husband’s neck—it seemed that she could not let him go. She buried her face in his bosom and wept and sobbed in irrepressible anguish.