Did I say they were big? That isn’t the word for it! They were more than that, they were massive; tall, broad, well-made, and tough-looking, with beaming, round, red faces; they ought to have been pictured, just as they were, for a naval recruiting poster. They looked a little confused, for the moment, at finding themselves precipitated into an unexpected drawing room; but they made straight for me, with that large, rolling stride inseparable from the British sailor. Fortunately the room isn’t beset in the orthodox fashion with a multitude of bric-à-brac obstacles in the way of small chairs and tables, for they seemed to sweep the decks fore and aft as they strode over the carpet, and I thought I should never find my hand again after they had both given it a hearty shake. As I looked at the big, burly fellows, both of them well on to forty I should say, I knew instinctively that these were our two forlorn sailor-lads—our poor anæmic, lonely Dick, and desolate, unsympathised-with Mick. And I must say I never saw two men bear neglect more bravely! At first, conversation seemed all on my side: they sat stiffly on the extreme edge of their chairs, while Dick answered in monosyllables, Mick seeming permanently tongue-tied! But the Head of Affairs produced cigars warranted to banish all nervous embarrassment and to induce a man to sit comfortably anywhere; and soon they were giving us details of their homes and relatives—small things, perhaps, that are apparently the same the world over, but mean so much to each individual. It was still Dick who did most of the talking. He was undoubtedly the more attractive of the two. As they were constantly making wild clutches at their parcels which threatened to tumble off their knees without the slightest provocation, we offered to put them on the table. But Dick explained, with almost child-like confusion, that they were presents for me and the other lady. And would I mind taking them? He made Mick open his bundle first. There came to light an anchor, the like of which I had never seen before, though I had heard of their existence. It was about eighteen inches long, made of red velvet stuffed with sawdust so as to form an immense pin cushion. This was most elaborately decorated with beads—as I thought at first—but it proved to be pins with coloured glass heads. Lengthwise down the anchor was this inscription, carried out in large white-headed pins, “AFFECTION’S OFFERING.” There were various ribbon bows, and ends and tags finished off with beads, and a cord for hanging it on the wall; altogether, it was a most ornate, glittering creation! Keeping company with the anchor was a wooden rolling pin, that had been enamelled a delicate pink, with hand-painted sprays of forget-me-nots at intervals. This also had bows and ends and a ribbon to hang it on the wall; it likewise bore an inscription: “TO GREET YOU.”