and a member of the Yacht Club. It is Lord B----:
he looks like a sailor, and he does not much belie his looks; yet I have
seen him in his robes of state at the opening of the House of Lords. The
one near to him is Mr. Stewart, a lieutenant in the navy. He holds on by
the rigging with one hand, because, having been actively employed all
his life, he does not know what to do with hands which have nothing in
them. He is a _protege_ of Lord B., and is now on board as
sailing-master of the yacht.

That handsome, well-built man, who is standing by the binnacle, is a Mr.
Hautaine. He served six years as midshipman in the navy, and did not
like it. He then served six years in a cavalry regiment, and did not
like it. He then married, and in a much shorter probation found that he
did not like that. But he is very fond of yachts and other men's wives,
if he does not like his own; and wherever he goes, he is welcome.

That young man with an embroidered silk waistcoat and white gloves,
bending to talk to one of the ladies, is a Mr. Vaughan. He is to be seen
at Almack's, at Crockford's, and everywhere else. Everybody knows him,
and he knows everybody. He is a little in debt, and yachting is
convenient.

The one who sits by the lady is a relation of Lord B.; you see at once
what he is. He apes the sailor; he has not shaved, because sailors have
no time to shave every day; he has not changed his linen, because
sailors cannot change every day. He has a cigar in his mouth, which
makes him half sick and annoys his company. He talks of the pleasure of
a rough sea, which will drive all the ladies below--and then they will
not perceive that he is more sick than themselves. He has the misfortune
to be born to a large estate, and to be a _fool_. His name is Ossulton.

[Illustration: _The ladies._]

The last of the gentlemen on board whom I have to introduce is Mr.
Seagrove. He is slightly made, with marked features full of
intelligence. He has been brought up to the bar; and has every
qualification but application. He has never had a brief, nor has he a
chance of one. He is the fiddler of the company, and he has locked up
his chambers and come, by invitation of his lordship, to play on board
of his yacht.

I have yet to describe the ladies--perhaps I should have commenced with
them--I must excuse myself upon the principle of reserving the best to
the last. All puppet-showmen do so; and what is this but the first scene
in my puppet-sho