d a visit
to the KEARSARGE at Marseilles in '65--George Dewey was our second
officer--and you were bowing and backing away from her, and you backed
into an open hatch, and she said 'my French isn't up to it' what was it
she said?"

"I didn't hear it," said Marshall; "I was too far down the hatch."

"Do you mean the old KEARSARGE?" asked Mrs. Cairns. "Were you in the
service then, Mr. Marshall?"

With loyal pride in his friend, the admiral answered for him:

"He was our consul-general at Marseilles!"

There was an uncomfortable moment. Even those denied imagination could
not escape the contrast, could see in their mind's eye the great harbor
of Marseilles, crowded with the shipping of the world, surrounding
it the beautiful city, the rival of Paris to the north, and on the
battleship the young consul-general making his bow to the young Empress
of Song. And now, before their actual eyes, they saw the village of
Porto Banos, a black streak in the night, a row of mud shacks, at the
end of the wharf a single lantern yellow in the clear moonlight.

Later in the evening Miss Cairns led the admiral to one side.

"Admiral," she began eagerly, "tell me about your friend. Why is he
here? Why don't they give him a place worthy of him? I've seen many of
our representatives abroad, and I know we cannot afford to waste men
like that." The girl exclaimed indignantly: "He's one of the most
interesting men I've ever met! He's lived everywhere, known every one.
He's a distinguished man, a cultivated man; even I can see he knows his
work, that he's a diplomat, born, trained, that he's----" The admiral
interrupted with a growl.

"You don't have to tell ME about Henry," he protested. "I've known Henry
twenty-five years. If Henry got his deserts," he exclaimed hotly, "he
wouldn't be a consul on this coral reef; he'd be a minister in Europe.
Look at me! We're the same age. We started together. When Lincoln sent
him to Morocco as consul, he signed my commission as a midshipman.
Now I'm an admiral. Henry has twice my brains and he's been a
consul-general, and he's HERE, back at the foot of the ladder!"

"Why?" demanded the girl.

"Because the navy is a service and the consular service isn't a service.
Men like Senator Hanley use it to pay their debts. While Henry's been
serving his country abroad, he's lost his friends, lost his 'pull.'
Those politicians up at Washington have no use for him. They don't
consider that a consul like Hen