stood looking at him, with his hand on his
shoulder; he then shook hands for the third time, and patted him
encouragingly on the back.

"Is anything the matter?" demanded the skipper of the Falcon as he rose
to his feet, alarmed by these manifestations of feeling. "Is Mary--is
she ill?"

"Worse than that," said the other--"worse'n that, my poor boy; she's
married a lobster!"

The effect of this communication upon Evans was tremendous; but it may
be doubted whether he was more surprised than Miss Cooper, who, utterly
unversed in military terms, strove in vain to realize the possibility of
such a mesalliance, as she gazed wildly at the speaker and squeaked with
astonishment.

"When was it?" asked Evans at last, in a dull voice.

"Thursday fortnight, at ha' past eleven," said the old man. "He's a
sergeant in the line. I would have written to you, but I thought it was
best to come and break it to you gently. Cheer up, my boy; there's more
than one Mary Jones in the world."

With this undeniable fact, Captain Jones waved a farewell to the party
and went off, leaving them to digest his news. For some time they sat
still, the mate and Miss Cooper exchanging whispers, until at length,
the stillness becoming oppressive, they withdrew to their respective
berths, leaving the skipper sitting at the table, gazing hard at a knot
in the opposite locker.

For long after their departure he sat thus, amid a deep silence,
broken only by an occasional giggle from the stateroom, or an idiotic
sniggering from the direction of the mate's bunk, until, recalled to
mundane affairs by the lamp burning itself out, he went, in befitting
gloom, to bed.

THE RIVAL BEAUTIES

"If you hadn't asked me," said the night watchman, "I should never have
told you; but, seeing as you've put the question point blank, I will
tell you my experience of it. You're the first person I've ever opened
my lips to upon the subject, for it was so eggstraordinary that all
our chaps swore as they'd keep it to theirselves for fear of being
disbelieved and jeered at.

"It happened in '84, on board the steamer George Washington, bound from
Liverpool to New York. The first eight days passed without anything
unusual happening, but on the ninth I was standing aft with the first
mate, hauling in the log, when we hears a yell from aloft, an' a chap
what we called Stuttering Sam come down as if he was possessed, and
rushed up to the mate with his eyes nearly sta