"Some people have a habit of laughing at natural history, you know, er-- er--because they don't understand." "You may trust me, sir," exclaimed the old fellow, as he went up the steps; and then to himself, "Yes, some folks has a habit of laughing at that kind o' nat'ral history when they see it. For only to think of a thin, wobbling chap fancying as our Miss Bessy would take up with the likes o' he. Hah! its a curus thing this love, and them as has got spliced don't allus seem to fit." He went on deck to find Bessy Studwick still reading to her brother; and her voice sounded so hoarse that the old fellow trotted to the steward's pantry for a glass of water and a couple of lumps of sugar, squeezing in afterwards the two halves of a lemon, bearing the drink himself to where John Studwick lay back gazing at the setting sun, his face lit up with a calm, placid smile; and, though his sister read on, he evidently hardly heard a word that was read. He started slightly as Oakum came up with the tumbler. "What is it?" he said, harshly. "Has that Mr Meldon sent me more medicine? I will not take it." Bessy Studwick must have turned her face more to the setting sun, for her cheeks grew crimson at her brother's words; and, seeing this, he looked at her angrily. "Lor' bless your 'art, no, sir," said Oakum. "I thought you and our young lady here might be a bit thirsty after so much book, so I brought you some lemonade." They gave him a grateful look, each thanking him for the attention to the other, and as he walked back with the empty glass Mr Meldon, who was standing talking to Hester Pugh and Mr Parkley, turned, sighed to himself, and looked after the old man with a feeling of envy. "If I had paid that little attention," he thought, "it would have been refused with some harsh remark. Poor fellow! even though he's her brother, I do not wonder at his feeling jealous of every look." Days of sailing over bright, sun-flecked seas, evenings of gorgeous sunsets, and nights of black violet skies, with the great stars sparkling overhead, and reflected in myriads on the smooth surface of the wondrous phosphorescent water, all aglow with pale fire wherever fish darted, while the schooner's bows seemed plunging through foaming, liquid moonbeams. Mornings with such wondrous tints of orange and scarlet, crimson and gold, that those who gazed upon them did so in awe of the mighty works of the grand world. Then came heat so intense that the brass rails burned the hand, the pitch oozed from the seams, and the passengers lay panting beneath the awning spread aft, and longing for the evening breeze.