dare to
be natural. I consider that the best privilege that attaches to my
condition, that of the 'bell-wether' of Savannah _ton_--the
universally-accepted bore! You know--Favraud has told you, of course; he
always characterizes as he goes."

"He has called you the most agreeable woman in Savannah, I remember,
young or old, and was truly glad, on my account, to know that you were
on board. Of your brother he spoke very kindly also, even admiringly."

"Oh, yea, I know; but of Raguet there is little question now. His wife's
death has crushed him. I never saw so changed a man; he is half idiotic,
I believe; and I am with him now just to keep those children from
completing the work of destruction. Six little motherless ones--only
think--and as bad as they can possibly be; for poor Lucilla was no
manager. Isn't it strange, the influence those little cottony women get
over their husbands? You and I might try forever to establish such
absolute despotism, all in vain. It is your whimpering sort that rule
with the waving of a pocket-handkerchief; but poor, dear little woman,
she is powerless now; and I suppose the next will be like unto her.
Raguet would never look at any thing feminine that hadn't white eyes and
pink hair (yellow, I mean, of course)--his style, you know, being dark
and stern, he likes the downy, waxy kind. All this is shockingly
egotistical; but the question is, who that has a spark of individuality
is otherwise? Good-night, again, and may all sweet dreams attend you;
for my part, I never dream, being past the dreaming age, and realities
fortunately disappear with daylight; even cross children are wheedled
into quietness, and servants forget to fidget and giggle; and, for
mosquitoes, there are bars. Adieu."

And thus we parted, never to meet again in mutual mood like this!

Yet, had the free agency of which some men boast been ours, we had
scarcely chosen to face the awful change--to look into each other's eyes
through gathering death-doom!

CHAPTER III.

Before my dreaming eyes was the terror of a hungry, crunching tooth,
fixed in the vessel's side, that of the iceberg, lying black in the
moonlight like a great coal crystal, grimly awaiting our approach, but
the reality, as well as the figment, had disappeared when I emerged at
sunrise from the suffocating cabin, to the atmosphere of the cool and
quiet quarter-deck, which had just undergone its matutinal.

Armed with an orange and a biscuit fo