to-night--the line that separates us from the cabin--to attend a lectur'
there--an' you'll niver guess the subjec', Bob."

"I know that, Joe. I never made a right guess in my life, that I knows
on. Heave ahead, what is it?"

"A lectur' on the `Lifeboat,' no less! But it aint our lifeboat
sarvice: it's the American one, cause it's to be given by that fine
young fellow, Dr Hayward, who looks as if suthin' had damaged his
constitootion somehow. I'm told he's a Yankee, though he looks uncommon
like an Englishman."

"He's tall an' 'andsome enough, anyhow," remarked Massey.

"Ay, an' he's good enough for anything," said Nellie, with enthusiasm.
"You should see the kind way he speaks to poor Ian when he comes to see
him--which is pretty much every day. He handles him, too, so tenderly--
just like his mother; but he won't give him medicine or advice, for it
seems that wouldn't be thought fair by the ship's doctor. No more it
would, I suppose."

"D'ee know what's the matter wi' him?" asked Mitford, who had joined the
group.

"Not I," returned Massey. "It seems more like gineral weakness than
anything else."

"I can tell you," said a voice close to them. The voice was that of
Tomlin, who, although a first-class passenger, was fond of visiting and
fraternising with the people of the fore-cabin. "He got himself
severely wounded some time ago when protecting a poor slave-girl from
her owner, and he's now slowly recovering. He is taking a long voyage
for his health. The girl, it seems, had run away from her owner, and
had nearly escaped into Canada, where of course, being on British soil,
she would be free--"

"God bless the British soil!" interrupted little Mrs Mitford, in a tone
of enthusiasm which caused a laugh all round; but that did not prevent
some of the bystanders from responding with a hearty "Amen!"

"I agree with you, Mrs Mitford," said Tomlin; "but the owner of the
poor slave did not think as you and I do. The girl was a quadroon--that
is, nearly, if not altogether, white. She was also very beautiful.
Well, the owner--a coarse brute--with two followers, overtook the
runaway slave near a lonely roadside tavern--I forget the name of the
place--but Dr Hayward happened to have arrived there just a few minutes
before them. His horse was standing at the door, and he was inside,
talking with the landlord, when he heard a loud shriek outside. Running
out, he found the girl struggling wildly in the han