"'Tis the garden of the world," said Captain Liddle to his wife, as they stood apart from the others on board the "Merry Andrew;" "'tis the garden of the world," he repeated, gazing at the lovely hills and gloriously-tinted sky with that sense of gratitude which it is so good for a man to experience. Her thoughts were in harmony with his, but she did not answer him immediately. She, too, was sensible of the beautiful scene around them, and stood by his side in silent thankfulness. To-morrow, the "Merry Andrew," having discharged her cargo, and taken in another (chiefly hard wood), was to set sail for China, where she had a charter for London. It was of London--of home--that the captain's wife was thinking, and presently her thoughts found simple expression. "Yes, John," she said; "it is indeed a garden--a beautiful garden; but it is not home." "Why now, Bessie," said the captain, looking down smilingly upon the wife he had waited and worked for as anxiously as Jacob did for Rachel, "could you not content yourself here?" "All my life, John?" "All your life, my dear." "No," she said without hesitation; "I should always be pining for home. Even if we were poor, and it were a necessity that we should live here, I don't think I could manage to quite content myself. But as it is"-- "As it is, Bessie"--repeated her husband, in secret delight at his wife's enthusiasm. "As it is, John," she responded softly, "'there's no place like home.'" Captain Liddle hummed a few bars of the Englishman's household hymn; and then, looking to that part of the ship where Joshua was busy, said: "There is some one on board, Bessie, who is even more anxious to get home than you are." "Who can that be, John?" "My handsome mate, as you call him, Joshua Marvel. He was expressing his delight to me yesterday that we should be not away longer than we thought we should when we started. And when I asked him what made him so impatient to get home, he told me that he was married three days before we left Gravesend. How would _you_ have liked that?" "I wouldn't have allowed you to go," said Mrs. Liddle, with a very positive shake of the head. "Easily said, little woman; not so easily managed, though, if I had been third mate instead of captain. Thank your stars that you married a captain." "So I do, John," said Mrs. Liddle tenderly--so tenderly, that her husband would have stooped and kissed her, if they had been alone. "Was it a love-match?" "Marvel's? Certainly, I should say. When I went to his house in London to see him, I saw a very beautiful girl in his room. Perhaps it is to her that he is married." "Very beautiful, sir?" exclaimed Mrs. Liddle, with a toss of her head. "I am almost inclined to take you to task for that; but I'll ask you, instead, to describe her." "I can't, Bess; 'tis not in my line. I tell you what, though: your maid would be like her, if she was fair instead of brown, and if she had long hair."