“And yet,” said I, “it is exactly to individuals of this stamp that the world accords its prizes. The impresario that provides the opera could not sing nor dance. The general who directs the campaign might be sorely puzzled how to clean his musket or pipeclay his belt. The great minister who imposes a tax might be totally unequal to the duty of applying its provisions. Ask him to gauge a hogshead of spirits, for instance. _My_ position is like _theirs_. I tell you, once more, the world wants men of wide conceptions and far-ranging ideas,--men who look to great results and grand combinations.” “But, to be practical, how do you mean to breakfast to-morrow morning?” “At a moderate cost, but comfortably: tea, rolls, two eggs, and a rumpsteak with fried potatoes.” “What's your name?” said he, taking out his note-book. “I mustn't forget you when I hear of you next.” “For the present, I call myself Potts,--Mr. Potts, if you please.” “Write it here yourself,” said he, handing me the pencil. And I wrote in a bold, vigorous hand, “Algernon Sydney-Potts,” with the date. “Preserve that autograph, Captain,” said I; “it is in no-spirit of vanity I say it, but the day will come you 'll refuse a ten-pound note for it.” “Well, I'd take a trifle less just now,” said he, smiling. He sat for some time gravely contemplating the writing, and at length, in a sort of half soliloquy, said, “Bob would like him,--he would suit Bob.” Then, lifting his head, he addressed me: “I have a brother in command of one of the P. and O. steamers,--just the fellow for _you_. He has got ideas pretty much like your own about success in life, and won't be persuaded that he isn't the first seaman in the English navy; or that he hasn't a plan to send Cherbourg and its breakwater sky-high, at twenty-four hours' warning.” “An enthusiast,--a visionary, I have no doubt,” said I, contemptuously. “Well, I think you might be more merciful in your judgment of a man of your own stamp,” retorted he, laughing. “At all events, it would be as good as a play to see you together. If you should chance to be at Malta, or Marseilles, when the _Clarence_ touches there, just ask for Captain Rogers; tell him you know me, that will be enough.” “Why not give me a line of introduction to him?” said I, with an easy indifference. “These things serve to clear away the awkwardness of a self-presentation.” “I don't care if I do,” said he, taking a sheet of paper, and beginning 'Dear Bob,'--after which he paused and deliberated, muttering the words 'Dear Bob' three or four times over below his breath. “'Dear Bob,'” said I aloud, in the tone of one dictating to an amanuensis,--“'This brief note will be handed to you by a very valued friend of mine, Algernon Sydney Potts, a man so completely after your own heart that I feel a downright satisfaction in bringing you together.'” “Well, that ain't so bad,” said he, as he uttered the last words which fell from his pen--“'in bringing you together.'”