What could it mean? Why was it I felt this restless longing for something that seemed just beyond my reach? My business was flourishing, my health was never better, my friends were numerous and all my surroundings pleasant. Then why was it that I could not compose myself to read or write? Whenever I tried to do anything, my mind involuntarily reverted to the past, and especially to a voyage I had taken some years before in the capacity of ship surgeon. At last I despaired of being able to complete my work to my satisfaction, and determined to indulge this irresistible tendency to retrospection. All the afternoon, whatever I did or attempted to do, my mind turned to Jack Adams, a beardless young man who shipped on the same vessel with me as super-cargo. Turn which way I would, his image loomed up before my memory with a vividness that was startling. Why should I be continually thinking of him? True, we had been the closest of friends, and often spent hours together in the most enjoyable conversations. However, notwithstanding our intimacy, there had ever hung around Jack an air of fathomless mystery. His character was faultless, his modesty, refinement and culture unexcelled. His perceptions were keen, his reasoning powers deep and comprehensive, and his innate truthfulness inspired every one with unlimited confidence who came in contact with him. In times of peril he was courageous as a lion and yet he was gentle as a woman. He was of medium size and perfectly rounded form, too refined in his appearance to be masculine, but none the less active and efficient; and I must say that his face was the most handsome, and the most expressive of the finer emotions of the soul, I had ever met with in man. We were the most congenial of associates, and I was more attached to his personality than I had ever before been to one of my own sex. Though young and beardless, his intellect was mature beyond his years, and by common consent the old and experienced soon came to honor his unusually remarkable judgment. To me, he was a phenomenon that I was utterly unable to fathom. While he was not shy, he was always reserved and retiring. He never intruded where he had no business except in my cabin, where he often came to while away an hour discussing themes of lofty and far reaching import. He seemed not to live on the common plane of ordinary life, but soared far above it. Still he attended to all his duties in a prompt and energetic manner, often lending a helping hand to others when there was no necessity for him to move a muscle. He seemed to take real pleasure in lightening the burdens of others even at a sacrifice of his own comfort.