up of girls
gathered about one who was evidently a bride. They were full of gay
chatter, and he overheard one of them say:

"If you come within sight of an iceberg, Nelly, make him go close to it
so you can get a good photograph. I should like awfully to have one."

"So should I," cried another. "But, oh! wouldn't it be lovely if we
could only have a picture of this group, standing just as we are aboard
the ship. It would make a splendid beginning for your camera."

The bride, who, as Cabot saw, carried a small brand-new camera similar
to one he had recently procured for his own use, promptly expressed her
willingness to employ it as suggested, but was greeted by a storm of
protests from her companions.

"No, indeed! You must be in it of course!" they cried.

Then it further transpired that all wished to be "in it," and no one
wanted to act the part of photographer. At this juncture Cabot stepped
forward, and lifting his cap, said:

"I am somewhat of a photographer, and with your permission it would
afford me great pleasure to take a picture of so charming a group."

For a moment the girls looked at the presumptuous young stranger in
silence. Then the bride, flushing prettily, stepped forward and handed
him her camera, saying as she did so:

"Thank you, sir, ever so much for your kind offer, which we are glad to
accept."

So Cabot arranged the group amid much laughter, and by the time two
plates had been exposed, had made rapid progress towards getting
acquainted with its several members.

The episode was barely ended before all who were to remain behind were
ordered ashore, and, a few minutes later, as the ship began to move
slowly from her dock, our traveller found himself waving his
handkerchief and shouting good-byes as vigorously as though all on the
wharf were assembled for the express purpose of bidding him farewell.

By the time the "Lavinia" was in the stream and headed up the East
River, with her long voyage fairly begun, Cabot had learned that his
new acquaintance was a bride of but a few hours, having been married
that morning to the captain of that very steamer. She had hardly made
this confession when her husband, temporarily relieved of his
responsibilities by a pilot, came in search of her and was duly
presented to our hero. His name was Phinney, and he so took to Cabot
that from that moment the latter no longer found himself lonely or at a
loss for occupation.

As he had never be