ointment on discovering that "cook" was a negro.

Meanwhile Lizette took two dollars from her purse, and bowing modestly
to the strangers as she passed out of the room, advanced with them
towards the young porter.

Now, Lizette was _not_ beautiful--few women are, in the highest sense of
the term, and the few who are, are seldom interesting; but she was
pretty, and sweet, and innocent, and just turned sixteen. Fortunately
for the male part of the world, there are many such. She had
light-brown hair, which hung in dishevelled curls all round, a soft fair
complexion, blue eyes, and a turned-up nose--a pert little nose that
said plainly, "I _will_ have my own way; now see if I don't." But the
heart that animated the body to which that nose belonged, was a good,
kind, earnest one; therefore, the nose having its own way was rather a
blessing than otherwise to those happy individuals who dwelt habitually
in the sunshine of Lizette's presence.

At this particular time, ladies were scarce in California. The immense
rush of men from all parts of the earth to the diggings had not been
accompanied as yet by a corresponding rush of women, consequently the
sight of a female face was, as it always ought to be, a source of
comfort to mankind. We say "comfort" advisedly, because life at the
gold-mines was a hard, riotous, mammon-seeking, rugged, and, we regret
to say it, ungodly life; and men, in whom the soft memories of "other
days" were not entirely quenched, had need, sometimes, of the comforting
reflection that there still existed beings on the earth who didn't rant,
and roar, and drink, and swear, and wear beards, and boots, and
bowie-knives.

There was double cause, then, for the gaze of respectful admiration with
which the young porter regarded Lizette, as she said, "Here is your
fare, porter," and put the money into his hand, which he did not even
thank her for, but continued to hold extended as if he wished her to
take it back again.

Lizette did not observe the gaze, for she turned away immediately after
giving him the money, and re-entered the parlour, whereupon the youth
thrust both hands into his breeches-pockets, left the house, and
returned slowly to the city, with the expression on his countenance of
one who had seen a ghost.

Meanwhile Captain Bunting and Ned Sinton sat down with their host and
hostess to a second breakfast, over which the former related the
circumstances of the double loss of his crew and