his opinion from the fact of his mentioning that the
fortifications were destroyed by an earthquake. And I very much fear
that the individual so disrespectfully mentioned above as "Bobby," was
no other than the great Hero himself. In my second (or if that goes off
too quick, in my third) edition, I will endeavour to clear this point
up in a satisfactory manner.

After this there was a long dull time with no news from him or from any
one. Then Sam came down from New England, and paid us a visit, which
freshened us up a little. But in spite of this and other episodes,
there was little change or excitement for us four. We made common house
of it, and never parted from one another more than a day. Always of an
evening came the old friendly rubber, I playing with the Major, and
Captain Brentwood with Mrs. Buckley. The most remarkable event I have
to chronicle during the long period which followed, is, that one day a
bushfire came right up to the garden rails, and was beaten out with
difficulty; and that same evening I held nine trumps, Ace, Queen,
Knave, Nine of hearts, and the rest small. I cannot for the life of me
remember what year it was in, somewhere between forty-two and
forty-five, I believe, because within a year or two of that time we
heard that a large comet had appeared in England, and that Sir Robert
Peel was distrusted on the subject of Protection. After all, it is no
great consequence, though it is rather provoking, because I never
before or since held more than eight trumps. Burnside, the
cattle-dealer, claims to have held eleven, but I may state, once for
all, that I doubt that man's statements on this and every other subject
on which he speaks.-- He knows where I am to be found.

My man Dick, too, somehow or another, constituted himself my groom and
valet. And the Major was well contented with the arrangement. So we
four, Major and Mrs. Buckley, Captain Brentwood and I, sat there in the
old station night after night, playing our whist, till even my head,
the youngest of the four, began to be streaked with grey, and sixteen
years were past.

Chapter XLVIII

THE LATEST INTELLIGENCE.

It is March, 1856. The short autumn day is rapidly giving place to
night; and darkness, and the horror of a great tempest is settling down
upon the desolate grey sea, which heaves and seethes for ever around
Cape Horn.

A great clipper ship, the noblest and swiftest of her class, is hurling
along her vast length b