as to whether I and my new friend could really
come to terms. To my great relief, however,
I found this an easy affair. The Seven Angels
was to sail on Tuesday, the day before that
appointed for the departure of the James Watt,
and I could be well accommodated on board of
her for a very few pounds.

"This is how we stand," said the young
supercargo, " and this you have a right to know.
The ship, an old one but a good one, is going to
England with a cargo of wheat from this port,
added to which we are to take in oil at Trebizond.
The freight being an unusually valuable
one, I have been put on board as supercargo,
my father, you must know, being part owner of
vessel and goods, the remaining shares in which
belong to other merchants of this place. Now,
the ship not being regularly on the Liverpool
line, seldom carries passengers, ample and well-
fitted as her cabins are, and we never advertise.
It so happens that an English merchant of this
place has begged us as a favour to take charge
of his daughter going home to finish her education
at a Brighton school, and there is some
awkwardness about it, for though Captain
Veltrivitch is a good fatherly old man, his time is
much taken up, and, in a word, Miss Brackley
cannot sit all day in the cabin in no other
company than mine. So, you see, if you will take
a berth, you will relieve us from some embarrassment,
and I will promise not to charge you a
copeck more than cost price, so that if you go
slowly, your trip will be cheap and not disagreeable.
Come aboard and judge for yourself."

And, a boat being quickly hailed, we were soon
aboard the Seven Angels, a large and handsome
ship, faultlessly trim and neat, though with the
high poop and elaborate stern-galleries of the
antique naval style of architecture. The captain
was ashore, but we were speedily ushered into
the cabins, which were certainly handsome and
snug, and more than warranted the commendations
of the supercargo. The few seamen I saw
about were smart fellows, Hydriotes and other
Levantines; there was not a rope out of its place;
the decks were almost white enough to belong
to a ship of war; but I was particularly struck
by the appearance of the holy pictures, with
lamps burning before them, and of the massive
group of wooden images, gay with paint and
gold leaf, doing duty for a figure-head. Never
had I been on board a Russian ship before, but
I could easily believe, what my guide assured
me, that this was a favourable specimen of their
mercantile marine.

"What name shall I have the pleasure of
putting down?" said my young friend, producing
from a locker a clasped book, and dipping his
pen in the ink.

"Millington —  Alfred Millington," said I;
"may I, in return, ask your name and nation?
Your English is perfect, but I hardly fancy we
are countrymen."

"In a certain sense we are," said the young
man, with one of his bright smiles; " I am an
Ionian —  a Greek from Corfu —  and my name is
Spiridion Colotroni, at your service."

During the three or four days which preceded
the ship's sailing, Spiridion and I became quite
intimate, and the young Greek did me several
petty kindnesses, doubly grateful to a stranger in
so lively a town as Odessa. Thanks to his
introduction I was made free of several circles and
clubs, which are frequented not only by the
merchants of the place, but by the smartest of
the staff officers and government functionaries,
and where I was kindly made welcome. Also,
although unable to present me to his own family,
then absent at a sea-side villa some leagues off,
Spiridion introduced me to his father's partners,
and to that Mr. Brackley whose only child, as a
great favour, was to be transported to England
on board the Seven Angels.

We dined at Mr. Brackley's the day before
sailing, and I shall never forget the group that
I then saw gathered in the merchant's drawing-
room, connected as it is with the memory of the
terrible events which followed. The master of
the house was a plain, downright man enough,
a little rough and blunt of speech and bearing,
perhaps, and it struck me that his quiet wife, a
subdued little personage with hair prematurely
grey, and a nervous manner, stood in great awe
of his displeasure. But there was no mistaking;
the unselfishness and depth of the father's love
for his only child; his voice was softened when
he spoke to her or of her, his eyes followed her
about the room with a sort of sad pride, and I
could see that all his hopes and feelings were
wrapped up in plans for her welfare.

As for Marian Brackley, she was simply an
honest English girl, rather pretty, and very
good humoured and full of blithe youthful spirits.
They were sending her to her all but forgotten
native land, the place which they still fondly
called " home," for a better and more solid
education than Odessa could supply, and she was
sorry to leave her parents, but full of wonder
and curiosity about the Western European
world, and especially the great cities of London
and Paris, which she was to see before returning.
The only other person present was the commander
of the Seven Angels, and he was the member
of the company most worthy of remark.

Captain Veltrivitch was a grand looking old
seaman; there was something noble and majestic
in his tall and upright form, his stately head and
weather-beaten face, with its shaggy white
eyebrows and the fringe of white hair that hung
about his high forehead. He wore two Russian
decorations, and was somewhat stiff and slow
in his gait, in consequence, as Spiridion told me,
of a wound in the knee received at Navarino.
He had, indeed, served long and creditably in the
imperial navy, but when I asked my Greek
informant why he had left it, Spiridion laid his
finger on his lips, and muttered something about
political reasons. I remarked that, contrary to
the usual custom of veterans, the aged officer
was not inclined to dilate upon his military
career, and when Mr. Brackley touched on the
subject, he answered with dry brevity, and
showed signs of relief when some other topic
was started.