half past ten
I think the relation between an elderly father and a daughter just blooming into womanhood the most beautiful possible . There is in it a subtile sentiment that can not exist in the case of mother and daughter , or that of son and mother . But this is getting into deep water . I sat with the Daws until half past ten , and saw the moon rise on the sea . The ocean , that had stretched motionless and black against the horizon , was changed by magic into a broken field of glittering ice , interspersed with marvellous silvery fjords . In the far distance the Isle of Shoals loomed up like a group of huge bergs drifting down on us . The Polar Regions in a June thaw !