medal on his breast may have belonged.

Our captain merits a word of description. He was a short, red-faced
individual, of such ineffable seediness, as regarded costume, that I
should never have suspected his station but for the fact that he
sported a gold band "_bien usite_" round his cap, and sat at the head
of the table. For the credit of French politeness be it, however,
added, he was a perfect gentleman in his behaviour throughout the
voyage. There was also a young French naval officer, whom I afterwards
got to know much better in Algeria. He, too, like all the Legitimists,
was a most finished gentleman, and spoke English well--a common
accomplishment among the officers of the French navy. Though quite a
young fellow, he had been in the Russian and Chinese wars, and
imparted some very amusing and instructive intelligence on both these
subjects.

As the noise and the intimacy at the table increased, and the punch
and cognac had already "chased" the wine, I adjourned with B---- and
the French sailor to the after-deck, and, in company with two young
Dutch travellers, smoked our Havanas in a climate that was already
African in its heat, while Majorca and Minorca faded away in the
distance, and the pale moon rose silently over the quiet sea.

CHAPTER II.

DESCRIPTION OF ALGIERS.

Arrival in Algeria.--Murray's Guide-books, and their
Amenities.--Disembarkation in the Port of Algiers.--Our
Fellow-travellers.--Algiers and its Inhabitants.--The Dey's
Palace.--Cause of the French Invasion.

Next morning, at eight o'clock, came the waiter with the
intelligence--"_Nous sommes dans la baie d'Alger, monsieur, a une
heure de la ville._" My desire to see Algiers was vehement indeed; but
scarcely less strong was the craving of the inner man for bread and
coffee. With the nectar of Arabia, however, the inspiration of the
Orient seemed to percolate my veins; but when a fragrant glass of
cognac crowned the meal, the aroma of the East enveloped me, the
delicious strains of Bulbul rang in my ears, the Calaisien and the
Marseillais, sitting stolidly before me, became straightway
transformed into camels, the stewardess into a houri, and the noses of
the passengers were as masques in my enraptured sight.

But the book at my side was not the Koran, though it might have been,
for the strange farrago it contained.

It was a celebrated traveller's manual in the English language, and
in red binding. The king of the Can