“Mr. Binn,” began Leacraft, “was not at all didactic, as regards time, but he was emphatic in the general scope of his predictions. He regarded the Isthmus and the Central American area as belonging in their geological habits to the West Indies, and he had a very poor opinion of the fidelity of the latter to implied obligations. He regarded it as capricious and wayward, unsubstantial in its composition, and a bit fickle in its attachments.” It was almost impossible not to think that the speaker was not putting a little bit of something more than science in his words. He continued: “His views also involved a curious reference to a rather topsy turvy theory that the earth was pear-shaped, and that the belt of earthquakes and crustal disorders along the borders of the Pacific resulted from this hypothetically crooked figure of the earth.” Brig Barry was listening with intense attention, and a whimsical glimmer of a smile turned the ends of his lips, while his eyes very gravely, with a slight contraction of their eyelids, watched Leacraft, with half inquisitorial perplexity. “I think,” he broke in, “that the West Indies will manage to take care of themselves. At least, present indications go to prove, that instead of disappearing, they are on their way to bigger things. Commander Beecham, who has just come from the Isle of Pines, told me yesterday, that the island was rising, that in a short time it might become part of Cuba. The question might then be asked, as we own the Isle of Pines, whether we had not annexed Cuba.” “I have heard of the Isle of Pines,” said Mrs. Garrett, “but hardly understand what it is. Perhaps a little enlightenment on the subject would not be unwelcome to the rest of you.” “Do, Brig,” pleaded Sally, “in the role of instructor you may be as successful in geography as in other subjects,” and Leacraft flushed and sat back hard, to resist the harsh blow of this subtle reminder of his worst suspicions. Mr. Barry looked around, as if to secure the suffrages of the company, and found every eye fixed upon him in expectation. It was his turn to impress Sally. He last looked at her, and as he did, he laughingly began: “I shall have no compunctions in being a trifle the schoolmaster. The Isle of Pines, Mrs. Garrett, lies in a deep bight or bay near the south coast of the western part of Cuba. There are some six hundred and thirty thousand acres in it, and it is but ninety-nine square miles less in extent than our little State of Rhode Island. This island bears a sort of filial relation to Cuba. It is part of the general chain of the insular mainlands of the Antilles. It is not a coral key or a mangrove swamp. It forms a plateau from fifty to one hundred feet above sea level, broken by ridges of hills or cliffs that start out over its surface like the bones on the back of a thin cow.” Sally’s deferential attention to Mr. Barry’s learning was here interrupted by a very audible titter.