r lip. On my left was the funny man.
As usual he was of a sea-green colour, and might be expected at any
moment to stagger to a porthole and call faintly for the steward.
Further down the table sat two young nincompoops, brought on board
specially in order that they might fulfil their destiny, and fill
out my story, by falling in love with the fluffy-haired English girl
who was sitting between them, and pouting equally and simultaneously
at both. There was also the stout German who talks about "de sturm
und der vafes." And beside him was the statuesque English beauty,
whose eyes are of the rich blackness of the tropic sky, whose voice
has a large assortment of sudden notes of haughtiness, while the
studied insolence of her manner first freezes her victims and then
incontinently and inconsistently scorches them. Eventually her proud
spirit will be tamed, probably by a storm, or a ship-wreck, or by
ten days in an open boat. I shall then secure your love, my peerless
ARAMINTA, and you will marry me and turn out as soft and gentle as
the moss-rose which now nestles in your raven tresses. The Colonel was
speaking.

"Zounds, Sir!" he was saying. "I don't know what you mean by effects.
All mine are on board. What do you say, Mr. TUGLEY?" he went on,
looking at me with a look full of corkscrews and broken glass,
while his choleric face showed of a purple hue under the effort of
utterance.

"Well, Colonel," I replied, in an off-hand way, so as not to irritate
him, "I keep my best effects here;" and, so saying, I produced my
note-book, and tapped it significantly. "What, for instance, do you
say to this?"

But, what follows, needs another chapter.

CHAPTER III.

I found the place in my notebook, cleared my voice, and began.
"The ship was sailing gloriously under a press of canvas. Her
foretopgallant-sail swelled to its cotton-like hue out of the black
shadow of its incurving. High aloft, the swelling squares of her
studding-sails gleamed in the misty sheen of the pale luminary,
flinging her frosty light from point to point of the tapering masts,
which rose, rose, rose into the morning air, as though with intent
to pierce the glowing orb of day, poised in the heavens like one vast
ball of liquid fire. Through the wind-hushed spaces of the canvas,
where the foretopmaststay-sail--"

"I know that foretopmaststay-sail," said the funny man, suddenly. I
withered him with a look, and turned over the page.

"Here," I said, "i