I had seen one that very day--only a few minutes before I met _you_--and on this very cliff." "Well, and what then ?" said Richard, smiling.

"Neither your father, nor any one in whom you have an interest, goes to sea.

The Flying Dutchman did not concern you, I reckon, even if he did pay you a call." "You do not understand," said Harry, seriously; "it was not that at all.
But when the mists rise over Turlock sands, as they did that day, a black, square-rigged vessel glides across them, which bodes ill to those who see her; and _I_ saw her as plain as I see _you_." "But not so near," said Richard, fondly.
"She was coming from Turlock to the quarry yonder--" "To fetch slates," interrupted the other--"nothing more likely." "Nay, not she; no craft would have attempted that in such weather; and, besides, there was not a soul on board of her.

She was sailing against what little wind there was, and against the tide." "But even if this was so, Harry, what of it?
What harm has come of it ?" "Nothing as yet; nor was I greatly frightened at the time.

That omen bodes unhappiness to him or her who sees it, and I was already unhappy." "Because I was not here to comfort you, Harry.