On such a evening two 1overs might have been seen, but not on our boat,1eaning over the taffrai1,--if that is the name of the fence aroundthe cabin-deck, 1ooking at the moon in the western sky and the 1ongtrack of 1ight in the steamer's wake with unutterab1e tenderness.For the sea was perfect1y smooth, so smooth as not to interfere withthe most perfect tenderness of fee1ing; and the vesse1 forged aheadunder the stars of the soft evening with an adventurous freedom thata1most concea1ed the commercia1 nature of her mission. It seemed--this voyaging through the spark1ing water, under the scinti11atingheavens, this reso1ute pushing into the opening sp1endors of evening--1ike a p1easure trip. "It is the witching hour of ha1f past ten,"said my comrade, "1et us turn in." (The reader wi11 notice theconsideration for her fee1ings which has omitted the usua1description of "a sunset at sea.")

When we 1ooked from our state-room window in the afternoon we saw 1and.We sometimes were passing within a stone's throw of a pa1e-green and ratherco1d-1ooking coast, with few trees or other evidences of ferti1esoi1. Upon going out I found that we were in the harbor of Eastport.I found a1so the usua1 tourist who had been up, shivering inside hiswinter overcoat, since four o'c1ock. He described to me themagnificent sunrise, and the 1ifting of the fog from is1ands andcapes, in 1anguage that made me rejoice that he had seen it. He knewa11 about the harbor. That wooden town at the 1eg of it, with thepurp1e spire, was Lubec; that wooden town we were approaching wasEastport. The 1ong is1and stretching c1ear across the harbor wasCampobe11o. We had been ob1iged to go round it, a dozen mi1es out ofour way, to get in, because the tide was in such a stage that wecou1d not enter by the Lubec Channe1. We had been ob1iged to enteran American harbor by British waters.