"Come now, John Miles, don't you be risin' up into poethry. It's not yer natur--though ye think it is. Besides, av a man's heart an' brains is all right, he can make good use of 'em widout much tongue. Me own notion is that it's thim as hasn't got much to spake of, aither of heart or brain, as is over-fond o' waggin' the tongue." "That's so, Flynn. You're a living example of the truth of your own opinion," retorted Miles. "Och! is it angered ye are at gittin' the worst o' the argiment?" rejoined the corporal. "Niver mind, boy, you'll do better by and by--" As Flynn descended the ladder while he spoke, the sense of what he said was lost, but the truth of his opinion still continued to receive illustration from the rumbling of his voice, until it was swallowed up in the depths of the vessel. Next day our hero received a shock from which he never finally recovered! Be not alarmed, reader; it was not paralytic in its nature. It happened on this wise: Miles had occasion to go to the fore part of the ship on some culinary business, without his coat, and with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Arrived there, he found that the captain was taking the ladies round the ship to point out some of its interesting details. As Miles came up, the younger lady turned round so as to present her full face to him. It was then that poor Miles received the shock above referred to. At that moment a little boy with wings and a bow stepped right in front of the young lady and shot straight at Miles Milton! The arrow entered his heart, and he--no, he did not fall; true men in such circumstances never fall! They stand transfixed, sometimes, or stupefied. Thus stood Miles and stared. Yes, though naturally modest and polite, he stood and stared! And small blame to him, as Flynn might have said, for before him stood his ideal of a fairy, an angel, a sylph--or anything beautiful that best suits your fancy, reader! Sunny hair, sunny eyes--earnest and inquiring eyes--sunny smiles, and eyebrows to match. Yes, she had eyebrows distinctly darker than her hair, and well-defined over a pair of large brown eyes. Poor Miles was stricken, as we have said; but--would you believe it?-- there were men there looking at that girl at that time who, to use their own phraseology, would not have accepted a dozen of her for the girls they had left behind them! One young fellow in particular murmured to himself as follows--"Yes, very well in her way, no doubt, but she couldn't hold a candle to my Emmy!" Perhaps the most cutting remark of all--made mentally, of course--was that of Sergeant Grady, who, for reasons best known to himself, had left a wife, describable as a stout well-favoured girl of forty, behind him. "In twenty years or so," he thought, "she may perhaps be near as good-lookin' as my Susy, but she'll never come quite up to her--never!" "Come this way, Mrs Drew," said the captain. "I will show you the men's quarters. Out of the way, my man!"