"Hout! man," he said, "the writers of these letters cheated the Government in sending them by me. It just serves them right. I shall read them as often as I please." This fact should be a useful hint to persons who, for the sake of saving a trifling amount of postage, entrust letters of consequence to private hands. These letters never reached their destination. After having afforded entertainment to this rough seaman during the voyage, they were thrown overboard before the vessel arrived at Quebec. The next day the wind still continued fair, but the weather was hazy, and sultry hot. The Captain promised the first man who should descry land a dollar, and a double allowance of grog. "I'll bet upon the little tailor," he cried, as he saw Sandy mounting with alacrity to his lofty perch. "That fellow has a great soul, though he wears a small pair of breeks. There's luck in his sharp face and keen eye." James Hawke determined not to be outdone by the tailor, and took up an exalted position on the mast, while the rest of the passengers walked to and fro the deck, straining their eyes, and looking in all directions for the promised land. A bank of dull grey clouds obscured the distant horizon, and for some time they looked in vain. A warm resinous smell came at times upon the wind, and large masses of sea-weed floated continually past. Flora was watching these with great interest, when the little brown man, who had kept quiet for some days, sauntered to her side. He was in a more contradictory mood than ever. "A fine day, Mrs. Lyndsay." "Rather hazy.--It looks like rain." "_Quite_ the reverse. The sky is _quite_ clear." "Independent of that fog-bank." "_Fog!_ I see no _fog_. You are blind, my dear Madam. The atmosphere is _unusually_ clear." Flora stared at him. "Could the man be in his senses?" Presently she remarked, "that they must be near land, from the quantity of sea-weed floating upon the water." "_That's_ not sea-weed!" "Mr. Lootie, I was born and brought up on the sea-coast: don't you think I know sea-weed?" "Not if you call pieces of reed and grass _sea-weed_. And as to being _near_ land, that's all fudge. The Captain only says so to please you." Lyndsay, who was standing near, now took Flora's arm, and walked to the other side of the deck. "What a little contradictory, snarling creature it is!" he said. "Why do you bandy words with him? Look, here is a piece of twisted paper. I will go forward, and throw it overboard. It looks like nothing but what it is. You return to Lootie, and when it passes, say, 'There's a piece of white paper,' and just hear how he will contradict the fact." Flora did as she was told. Presently the paper floated just beneath the spot where they were standing. "Ah!" cries Flora, with feigned surprise, "we must be near land. See--there is a piece of white paper." "Pshaw! _Paper indeed!_ where are your eyes? It is a _feather_--a white _feather_, belonging to some sea-fowl or other."