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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862"

She saw that I was coming. I lifted my feet out of the inches of
water that had nearly filled it, put my oars across her tiny boat, and,
leaving my own River-Ribbon to its fate, I entered that wherein my
preserver had come out. I took the oars from her passive hands; she went
to the front of the boat and left me master of the small ship. I turned
its prow homeward. My preserver sat motionless, her eyes in the moon,
for aught of notice she took of me. I was going toward the river; she
bade me keep to the bay-shore, at the right. I obeyed. No more words
were spoken until we were almost to land. I saw a little bulb afloat.
The boat went near. I put out my oar and drew it in. It was the
althea-bud that I had offered to the sea-nymphs.
"'The mermaids refuse my offering,' I said; 'will you accept it?'--and
I handed it, dripping with salt-water, to the fairy who sat so silently
before me.
"She took it, pointed to a little sheltered cove between two outstanding
ledges of rock, and said,--
"'This is boatie's home,--see if you can guide her safely in.'
"The keel grated on the gravelly beach, the boat struck home.


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