“Well, Sam, old fellow, what do you think of the prospect?” “Splendid! we have made a ten strike this time--every room has been engaged, and still they come.” “Is she not a beauty, Sam?” “Never saw her match in my life. What’s the time, captain?” “Eight thirty, and time for the maskers to begin to arrive; by the by, here they come now. Has the music arrived?” “Long, long ago, captain; everything is ready.” “Good, Sam; we must put our best foot foremost to-night; much depends on first impressions. Have you got plenty of wines and ice?” “Oceans, oceans of all kinds.” This conversation occurred on board of the “White Rose,” between Captain Quitman and Samuel Brazzleman, who were both rejoicing at the prospect of a remunerative trip, which was to begin on the next morning. Before nine o’clock the dazzling lights in the long saloon were streaming down on the vast crowd of maskers as they glided along through the mazes of the dance; while soft, sweet sounds floated out on the night air. Fantastic costumes, sparkling jewels, white, blue and red plumes, rustling silk, shining satin, soft velvet, sparkling diamonds, high-heeled boots, splendid music, the popping of champagne bottles, the hum of many voices, the merry laughter, the brisk and graceful movement of charming women, were all contributing to the dazzling show. All kinds of costumes were to be seen, old-fashioned and new, gaudy and plain. Mary, Queen of Scots, with her rich, royal costume of Scotland, all bedecked with sparkling diamonds, was dancing with Ingomar, the Barbarian Chief, with his savage beard reaching to his waist, and his top-boots all shaded with gold. The knight of Ivanhoe, with his glittering armor on, was dancing with the first maid of honor, who wore blue silk, and yellow mask. Don Quixote, the Knight of Salamanca, dressed in shabby but quaint armor, was jumping high and awkwardly, as he danced with the second maid of honor, who was a graceful dancer, dressed in orange-colored silk with pink mask. Henry of Navarre, with his black plume waving high above the throng, was marching up and down the saloon with the queen of Sheba leaning on his arm. Sancho Panza, with his clownish costume, was playing the clown to perfection, to the great amusement of the children. The Duke of Wellington and Napoleon were taking a mint julep at the bar, while George III. was quarreling with Sam Brazzleman because he wouldn’t tell him the name of the lady who represented the Queen of Scots. “Positively against our rules to divulge the names of parties in mask, without their consent,” says Sam. “Well, does she reside in Memphis?” “Can’t answer; I tell you it is contrary to orders.” “Is she going to New Orleans on this boat?” “Yes.” “Good! I’ll find out who she is, if I follow her to the other side of the world!” and the imitator of the defunct tyrant made his way to where the mysterious queen stood conversing with her Barbarian Chief.