“That's easy fixed, John. They're both south exposure. They take the sun, and the Shorbs get the shade.” “How about sile, William?” “D's a sandy sile, E's mostly loom.” “You may gimme E, then; William; a sandy sile caves in, more or less, and costs for repairs.” “All right, set your name down here, John, under E. Now, if you don't mind payin' me your share of the fourteen dollars, John, while we're on the business, everything's fixed.” After some higgling and sharp bargaining the money was paid, and John bade his brother good night and took his leave. There was silence for some moments; then a soft chuckle welled up from the lonely William, and he muttered: “I declare for 't, if I haven't made a mistake! It's D that's mostly loom, not E. And John's booked for a sandy sile after all.” There was another soft chuckle, and William departed to his rest also. The next day, in New York, was a hot one. Still we managed to get more or less entertainment out of it. Toward the middle of the afternoon we arrived on board the stanch steamship Bermuda, with bag and baggage, and hunted for a shady place. It was blazing summer weather, until we were half-way down the harbor. Then I buttoned my coat closely; half an hour later I put on a spring overcoat and buttoned that. As we passed the light-ship I added an ulster and tied a handkerchief around the collar to hold it snug to my neck. So rapidly had the summer gone and winter come again! By nightfall we were far out at sea, with no land in sight. No telegrams could come here, no letters, no news. This was an uplifting thought. It was still more uplifting to reflect that the millions of harassed people on shore behind us were suffering just as usual.