s and went up. Lord B. took
off his hat, and begged the honour of being introduced to the pretty
widow. He handed the ladies to a seat, and then commenced conversing
upon various subjects, which, at the same time, possessed great novelty.
His lordship talked about France, and described its ports; told now and
then a good anecdote; pointed out the different headlands, bays, towns,
and villages, which they were passing rapidly, and always had some
little story connected with each. Before the ladies had been two hours
on deck, they found themselves, to their infinite surprise, not only
interested, but in conversation with the captain of the smuggler, and
more than once they laughed outright. But the _soi-disant_ Lord B. had
inspired them with confidence; they fully believed that what he had told
them was true, and that he had taken possession of the yacht to smuggle
his goods, to be revenged, and to have a laugh. Now none of these three
offences are capital in the eyes of the fair sex; and Jack was a
handsome, fine-looking fellow, of excellent manners, and very agreeable
conversation, at the same time, neither he nor his friend were in their
general deportment and behaviour otherwise than most respectful.

"Ladies, as you are not afraid of me, which is a greater happiness than
I had reason to expect, I think you may be amused to witness the fear of
those who accuse your sex of cowardice. With your permission, I will
send for the cook and steward, and inquire about the dinner."

"I should like to know what there is for dinner," observed Mrs Lascelles
demurely; "wouldn't you, Cecilia?"

Cecilia put her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Tell the steward and the cook both to come aft immediately," cried
Pickersgill.

In a few seconds they both made their appearance.

"Steward!" cried Pickersgill, with a loud voice.

"Yes, my lord," replied Maddox, with his hat in his hand.

"What wines have you put out for dinner?"

"Champagne, my lord; and claret, my lord; and Madeira and sherry, my
lord."

"No Burgundy, sir?"

"No, my lord; there is no Burgundy on board."

"No Burgundy, sir! do you dare to tell me that?"

"Upon my soul, my lord," cried Maddox, dropping on his knees, "there is
no Burgundy on board--ask the ladies."

"Very well, sir; you may go."

"Cook, what have you got for dinner?"

"Sir, a haunch of mutt--of venison, my lord," replied the cook, with his
white night-cap in his hand.

"What else, sirrah?"