Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the churchyard.

Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came down again.

We had a lovely view, and saw the procession nearly all the way.

The poor fellow was laid to rest near our seat so that we stood on it, when the time came and saw everything.
Poor Lucy seemed much upset.

She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her.
She is quite odd in one thing.