Cyrus Townsend Brady,
Woven with the Ship: A Novel of 1865
“ In the harmony of their voices they almost see a prophecy of the future harmony of their lives. Many a time has she sung to the admiral and the old sailor, but never quite as to-night. And Captain Barry has not been there. The heavy oaken chair, which he made himself from the timbers of the ship, which stands by the door, and which, in its rude strength, its severe plainness, somehow suggests the man, is empty. To the admiral she has sung like a voice from the past, to Barry her music has been like that of an angel in heaven, to Revere it is the voice of the woman he loves. ”
