d an irate parent trying to drag him out;
while, on your other side, stands a grief-stricken mother trying to say
farewell to a son whose hollow cheeks, glittering eyes, and short cough
give little hope of a meeting again on this side the grave. Above all
the din, as if to render things more maddening, the tug alongside keeps
up intermittent shrieks of its steam-whistle, for the first bell has
rung to warn those who are not passengers to prepare for quitting the
steamer. Soon the second bell rings, and the bustle increases while in
the excitement of partings the last farewells culminate.

"We don't need to mind that bell, having our boat alongside," said the
missionary to Captain Bream, as they stood a little to one side silently
contemplating the scene. "You see that smart young officer in uniform,
close to the cabin skylight?"

"Yes."

"That's the captain."

"Indeed. He seems to me very young to have charge of such a vessel."

"Not so young as he looks," returned the other. "I shall have to get
his permission before attempting anything on board, so we must wait here
for a few minutes. You see, he has gone into his cabin with the owners
to have a few parting words. While we are standing you'll have one of
the best opportunities of seeing the passengers, for most of them will
come on deck to bid relatives and friends farewell, and wave
handkerchiefs as the tug steams away, so keep your eyes open.
Meanwhile, I will amuse you with a little chit-chat about emigrants.
This vessel is one of the largest that runs to Australia."

"Indeed," responded the captain, with an absent look and tone that would
probably have been the same if his friend had said that it ran to the
moon. The missionary did not observe that his companion was hopelessly
sunk in the sea of abstraction.

"Yes," he continued, "and, do you know, it is absolutely amazing what an
amount of emigration goes on from this port continually, now-a-days.
You would scarcely believe it unless brought as I am into close contact
with it almost daily. Why, there were no fewer than 26,000 emigrants
who sailed from the Thames in the course of last year."

"How many hogsheads, did you say?" asked the captain, still deeply sunk
in abstraction.

A laugh from his friend brought him to the surface, however, in some
confusion.

"Excuse me," he said, with a deprecatory look; "the truth is, my mind is
apt to wander a bit in such a scene, and my eyes chanced to lig