ost prosperous state, and,
retiring honourably to one of his stations, set to work, as he said, to
begin life again on a new principle. He is wealthy, honoured, and
happy, as he deserves to be.

I cannot help, although somewhat in the wrong place, telling the reader
under what circumstances I saw him last. Only two years ago, fifteen
after he had left office, I happened to be standing with him, at the
door of a certain club, in a certain capital, just after lunch time,
when we saw the then Colonial Secretary, the man who had succeeded
Pollifex, come scurrying round the corner of the street, fresh from his
office. His face was flushed and perspiring, his hat was on wrong-side
before, with his veil hanging down his back. In the one hand he held
papers, in the other he supported over his fevered brow his white
cotton umbrella; altogether he looked harassed beyond the bounds of
human endurance, but when he caught sight of the open club-doors, he
freshened a bit, and mended his pace. His troubles were not over, for
ere he reached his haven, two Irishmen, with two different requests,
rose as if from the earth, and confronted him. We saw him make two
promises, contradictory to each other, and impossible of fulfilment,
and as he came up the steps, I looked into the face of Ex-Secretary
Pollifex, and saw there an expression which is beyond description. Say
that of the ghost of a man who has been hanged, attending an execution.
Or say the expression of a Catholic, converted by torture, watching the
action of the thumb-screws upon another heretic. The air, in short, of
a man who had been through it all before. And as the then Secretary
came madly rushing up the steps, Pollifex confronted him, and said,--

"Don't you wish you were me, T----?"

"Sir!" said the Secretary, "dipping" his umbrella and dropping his
papers, for the purpose of rhetorically pointing with his left hand at
nothing; "Sir! flesh and blood can't stand it. I resign to-morrow." And
so he went in to his lunch, and is in office at this present moment.

I must apologize most heartily for this long digression. The Captain's
gig, impelled by the "might of England's pride," was cleverly beached
alongside of the other boat, and the Captain stepped out and confronted
the midshipman.

"Got any news, Mr. Vang?"

"Yes, sir!" said the midshipman. "These gentlemen saw the boat
yesterday afternoon."

Sam and Halbert, who were standing behind him, came forward. The
Capt