“May I order some brandy-and-water? I like it better than these French wines,” asked he, abruptly; and as I arose to ring for it, he added, “and you 'll not object to me having a pipe of strong Cavendish?” And therewith he produced a leather bag and a very much smoked meerschaum, short and ungainly as his own figure. As he thrust his hand into the pouch, a small boat, about the size of a lady's thimble, rolled out from amidst the tobacco; he quickly took it and placed it in his waistcoat pocket,--the act being done with a sort of hurry that with a man of less self-possession might have perhaps evinced confusion. “You fancy you 've seen something, don't you?” said he, with a defiant laugh. “I 'd wager a five-pound note, if I had one, that you think at this moment you have made a great discovery. Well, there it is, make much of it!” As he spoke, he produced the little boat, and laid it down before me. I own that this speech and the act convinced me that he was insane; I was aware that intense suspectfulness is the great characteristic of madness, and everything tended to show that he was deranged. Rather to conceal what was passing in my own mind than out of curiosity, I took up the little toy to examine it. It was beautifully made, and finished with a most perfect neatness; the only thing I could not understand being four small holes on each side of the keel, fastened by four little plugs. “What are these for?” asked I. “Can't you guess?” said he, laughingly. “No; I have never seen such before.” “Well,” said he, musingly, “perhaps they _are_ puzzling,--I suppose they are. But mayhap, too, if I thought you 'd guess the meaning, I 'd not have been so ready to show it to you.” And with this he replaced the boat in his pocket and smoked away. “You ain't a genius, my worthy friend, that's a fact,” said he, sententiously. “I opine that the same judgment might be passed upon a great many?” said I, testily. “No,” continued he, following on his own thoughts without heeding my remark, “_you 'll_ not set the Thames a-fire.” “Is that the best test of a man's ability?” asked I, sneeringly. “You're the sort of fellow that ought to be--let us see now what you ought to be,--yes, you 're just the stamp of man for an apothecary.” “You are so charming in your frankness,” said I, “that you almost tempt me to imitate you.” “And why not? Sure we oughtn't to talk to each other like two devils in waiting. Out with what you have to say!” “I was just thinking,” said I,--“led to it by that speculative turn of yours,--I was just thinking in what station _your_ abilities would have pre-eminently distinguished you.” “Well, have you hit it?” “I'm not quite certain,” said I, trying to screw up my courage for an impertinence, “but I half suspect that in our great national works--our lines of railroad, for instance--there must be a strong infusion of men with tastes and habits resembling yours.”