plied me with a villa in Bournemouth and a yachting box in the Isle of Wight, also on their own terms, had I felt inclined to furnish them with the command. But fortunately I was able to withstand their temptations, and having given them my cheque for the requisite amount, went off to make arrangements and to engage a crew.
Before nightfall I had secured the services of a handy lad in place of the old man who had brought her round from Poole, and was in a position to put to sea. Accordingly next morning off I set for a trip round the Isle of Wight. Before we had brought the Needles abeam I had convinced myself that the boat was an excellent sailer, and when the first day's voyage was over I had found no reason to repent my bargain.
And I would ask you here, is there any other amusement to compare with yachting? Can anything else vie with it? Suppose a man to be a lover of human craftmanship—then what could be more to his taste than a well-built yacht? Is a man a lover of speed? Then what could he wish for better than the rush over the curling seas, the graceful fabric quivering under him like an eager horse, the snowy line of foam driving away from either bow, and the fresh breeze singing merrily through the shrouds overhead, bellying out the stretch of canvas till it seems as if the spars must certainly give way beneath the strain they are called upon to endure!
Is a man a lover of the beautiful in nature? Then from what better place can he observe earth's beauties than a yacht's deck? From there he views the stretch of country ashore, the dancing waves, the blue sky flaked with fleecy clouds above his head, while the warm sun shine penetrates him through and through till it finds
