Now this ship was an old wagon-body, and had never been in water deeper than a mud puddle. A dozen little girls climbed in with great bustle and confusion, pretending they were walking a plank and climbing up some steps. After they were fairly on board they waved their handkerchiefs for a good by to their friends on shore. Then Octavia fired peas out of a little popgun twice, and this was meant as a long farewell to the land. Now they were fairly out on the ocean, and began to rock back and forth, as if tossed by a heavy sea.

"See how the waves rise!" said Emily, and threw up her hands with an undulating motion. "I can see them," she cried, an intent look coming into her closed eyes; "they are green, with white bubbles like soap suds. And the sun shines on them so! O, 'tis as beautiful as flowers!"

"Booful as flowers!" echoed Flyaway, who was one of the passengers; while
Dotty wondered how Octavia knew the difference between green and white.
She did not know; and what sort of a picture she painted in her mind of
the mysterious sea I am sure I cannot tell.

"Now," said Miriam Lake, the prettiest of the children, "it is time to strike the bells."

So she struck a tea-bell with a stick eight times.

"That is eight bells," explained she to Dotty, "and it means four o'clock. But, Jennie Holiday, where is the kitten? Why, we are not half ready."

The children never thought they could play "ship" without a kitten, a gray and white one which they put into a cage just as Jennie Holiday did, when she and Rollo travelled by themselves from New York to Liverpool. When the kitten had been brought, they had got as far as Long Island Sound, and they said the kitten was sent by a ship of war which had to be "spoken."

"This is a funny way to play," said Miriam. "Here we are at Halifax, and nobody has heaved the log yet."

"No," said Octavia; "so we can't tell how many knots an hour we are going."

"I'm going a great many knocks," cried Katie, whose exertions in rocking from side to side had thrown her overboard once.

"We never'll get to Liverpool in this world," said Emily, "unless Miss
Percival comes and steers the ship."

It happened at that very moment that Miss Percival came into the yard with aunt Maria.

"If you will excuse me, Mrs. Clifford," said she, laughing, "I will take command of this ship."

"No apologies are necessary," replied Mrs. Clifford. "I should be very glad to watch your proceedings. Is it possible, Miss Percival, that you are capable of guiding a vessel across the Atlantic?"

"I have often tried it," said Miss Percival, going on board; "but we sometimes have a shipwreck."

"Emily," said she, "you may heave the log." So Emily rose, and taking a large spool of crochet-cotton which Miss Percival gave her, held it above her head, turning it slowly, till a tatting shuttle, which was fastened at the end of the thread, fell to the ground. This was supposed to be the "log;" and Octavia, with one or two other girls, pretended to tug with much force in order to draw it in, for the ship was going so fast that the friction against the cord was very great. Knots had been made in the cotton, over which Emily ran her quick fingers.

"Ten knots an hour," said she.

"Very good speed," returned the captain. "I do not think we shall be able to take an observation to-day, as it is rather cloudy."

Sailors "take observations" at noon, if the sun is out, by means of a sextant, with which they measure the distance from the sun to the southern horizon. In this way the captain can tell the exact latitude of the ship; but Miss Percival made believe there was a storm coming up; so it was not possible to take an observation.

"It is two bells," said she: "the wind is out; there will be a fearful storm. I would advise the passengers to turn into their berths."

The children lay down upon the floor. "There, there," said Miriam Lake, who was playing Jennie Holiday; "my poor little kitty is just as seasick! Her head keeps going round and round."

"My head has did it too," chimed in Katie, rolling herself into a ball; "it keeps yocking yound and yound."

"I pitch about so in my berth," said Octavia, who was Rollo, "that next thing I shall be out on the floor. Hark! How the water is pouring in! I'm afraid the ship has sprung a leak; and if it has I must call the chambermaid."

Mrs. Clifford, who stood looking on, was quite amused at the idea of calling the chambermaid to stop a leak in the ship.

"Man the pumps!" said the captain. The girls tugged away at a pole in one end of the wagon, moving it up and down like a churn-dash.

"I do hope this wind will go down," sighed Emily.

"Well, it will," said simple Flyaway; "I hear it going."

"It is head wind and a heavy sea," remarked the captain; "but never fear; we shall weather the storm. We are now on the southern coast of Ireland. I don't think," added she, in a different tone, "it is best to be shipwrecked, children—do you? We will hurry into Liverpool, and then I think it likely your little visitors may enjoy keeping house with your dolls, or having a nice swing."

"I wish I could eat something," said Dotty, with a solemn face; "but I'm too sick."

"So'm I," groaned Flyaway. "I couldn't eat noffin'—'cept cake."

"If you are in such a condition as that," said the captain, "it is certainly high time we landed. And here comes a pilot boat with a signal flying. We will take the pilot on board," added she; drawing in another little girl. "And look! here we are now in Liverpool."

"We must go to the Adelphi," said Octavia; "that is where Rollo went, and found his father, and mother, and Thannie. But the kitten didn't ever get there—did it, Miss Percival?"

The voyage being ended, and with it the fearful seasickness, the children went to swinging, with their teacher to push them.

"Miss Percival," said aunt Maria, shaking hands with that excellent young lady, "I wish you joy of your noble employment. It is a blessed thing to be able to give so much pleasure to these dear little children."

"So it seems to me," replied Miss Percival. "They are always grateful, too, for every little kindness."

"They look very good and obedient," said Mrs. Clifford, in a low voice.

"So they are. Sometimes I think they are better than children who have eyes; perhaps because they cannot see to get into so much mischief," added Miss Percival, pinching Emily's cheek.

"Aunt 'Ria," said Dotty, in raptures, "don't they have good times here?"

"Yelly good times," said little Flyaway, clutching at her mother's dress.
"Mamma, I wish I was blind-eyed, too."

"You, my darling baby! Mother hopes that will never be. But if you cannot be blind-eyed yourself, perhaps you may make some of these little ones happy. Is there anything you would like to give away?"

Flyaway winked slowly, trying to think what she had at home that she no longer wished to keep.

"Yes, mamma," said she at last, with a smile of satisfaction, "I've got a old hat."

"O, fie, Katie! I dare say you would be very glad to part with that, for I remember you cried the other day when I asked you to wear it. Your old hat would not be a pretty present."

"Then I can't fink of noffin' else," said Katie, shaking her head; at the same time having a guilty recollection of several beautiful toys, and "'most a hunnerd bushels of canny;" that is to say, a small box of confectionery her uncle Edward had given her.

Mrs. Clifford had observed of late that her little daughter was not as generous as she could wish. Both Katie and Dotty were peculiarly liable to become selfish, as they were much petted at home, and had no younger brothers or sisters with whom to share their treasures. Mrs. Clifford did not insist upon Katie's making any sacrifice. The little one did not pity the blind children at all. They seemed so happy that she almost envied them. So did Miss Dimple. It was not, after all, very grievous to be blind, she thought, if one could live at this Institute and have such nice plays.

"Aunt 'Ria thinks I ought to give them something, I s'pose. When I get home I mean to ask mamma and grandma to dress a beautiful doll, and I'll send it to Emily. She'll keep it to remember me by; and it won't cost any of my money if papa buys the head."

"Good by, Emily," said she, as she parted from her. "I hope there won't any more bad things happen to you."

"But I s'pose there will," replied Emily, cheerfully.

Mr. Parlin and Horace were waiting in the hall, and the latter was impatiently watching the tall clock. They had been in the greenhouse, looking at the flowers, and in the shop, where the blind boys learn to make brooms and brushes.

"Well, ladies, are you ready to go?" asked Mr. Parlin, taking Flyaway by the hand.

"Yes, we ladies is ready," replied she. So this was the end of their visit at the Institute.

After they had gone away, the little blind girls said to one another,—

"What nice children those are! Which is the prettiest, Alice or Katie?"

For they always spoke of people and things exactly as if they could see them.