my ready answer, "how I love that precious
scar"—he leaned down and touched it with his
lips. "But for that, we might not be together
now. But for that, your life, Mary, might have
been one of misery unutterable, and mine—if
not sacrificed on the plains of India—might
have been as utter a blank as that of any one of
those unknown men who have entertained us
here to-night."

HIS DRESSING-CASE.

THE passengers on board the good ship
Golden Dream, homeward bound from
Melbourne, were beginning to get rather weary and
tired of their trip. We were only in the fourth
week of the voyage; but the month was July,
the days were short, gloomy, and stormy; and
the sea was covered with those mountainous
waves which are to be seen in perfection off
Cape Horn. The stout ship went struggling
along within six points of a fierce north-easterly
gale, quivering like a living creature, as the
remorseless waves struck her blow after blow. On
the log being hove, we found that we were making
barely two knots an hour; and to add to our
perplexity, a sudden chill in the air, and a peculiar
white glare in the horizon, informed us that we
were surrounded with icebergs. Before nightfall
the violence of the gale had somewhat abated,
and the passengers hurried on deck to look at
the first iceberg, which was within half a mile of
us. It was a sight worth seeing. We beheld
an enormous mass of rock-like ice, with a
perpendicular wall facing us, fully three hundred
feet high, against the steep sides of which the
waves dashed incessantly. The colour of the
iceberg was a brilliant pellucid white, except in
the deep fissures and interstices where the hue
was changed to cobalt, or on the summits of the
precipices, which glowed in the rays of the setting
sun with all the prismatic tints of the rainbow.

"Eh! man!" exclaimed an enthusiastic
Scotchman. "'Tis joost Edinburgh Castle to
the life!"

"What a fortune a fellow could make among
the Melbourne confectioners, if he could only
tow it into Port Phillip during the hot weather,"
remarked a prosaic colonist.

"Well, it's a pretty sight," said an old lady,
"a very pretty sight! But I wish they'd all sink
to the bottom at night, and come up again in the
morning."

"It would be very convenient, indeed, ma'am,"
answered the third mate. "It would save our
eyes to-night considerably, for we shall have to
keep a bright look-out."

We passed a very gloomy evening. The
wind had almost fallen to a calm, while the sea
continued to run extremely high, causing the
ship to roll terribly. Everything that was not
securely fixed, was flying about the cabin, the
destruction of crockery was appalling, and the
steward passed the interval between supper and
bedtime in a state of despair, chasing cups,
saucers, and bottles. Even the four passengers
who clung to whist every evening with a devotion
befitting the renowned Sarah Battle, were
forced to give up their game. Even chess, though
played on a board provided with spring fastenings,
was found impracticable. The chess-board
sprang up bodily, pieces and all, made a
somersault in the air, darted into the cabin of a
married couple who were putting their baby
to bed, extinguished their candle-lamp, and
frightened their cockatoo into hysterics.

For myself, I went on deck, and there,
sheltered by the penthouse which overhung the main-
deck at the extremity of the poop, endeavoured
to solace myself with a pipe. I was very glad to
hear a voice out of the pitchy darkness saying,

"Nasty thick night, sir."

It was Tom White, an able seaman, and one
of the greatest growlers on board.

"What do you think of the weather, Tom?"
I asked him.

"'Bout as bad as it can be. If it had kept
on to blow, it might have took us through all
this here ice; but now it's fallen calm, the bergs
will gather round the ship, just as the bits of
stick in a pond get round a dead cat. Ah!
Once let me set foot ashore, and you'll never
catch me round the Horn again."

Poor Tom! I dare say he had uttered this
declaration five hundred times before, and had
always forgotten it when signing articles at the
shipping-office.

"I hope they're keeping a bright look-out
forward, Tom?"

"A bright look-out! How can they? Why,
the night's as thick as a tub of Dutch butter.
Then it ain't these big lumps as I'm afeard of.
If the look-outs ain't asleep, or yarning, they
might chance to see them. What I funk, is the
nasty little sneaking bits of ground-ice, about
the size of a ship's long-boat."

"Surely they would not injure a stout ship
like this, Tom?"

"Stout ship? Ha, ha! Why, this is a soft-
wood ship—a regular New Brunswicker. She'd
have no more chance again the ice, than a chaney
cup again a soup-and-bully tin; and then, with
all this here copper ore in her inside, down
she'd go—and you along with her."

"And you too, Tom."

"Well, I don't know about that. Sailors
ain't like passengers. There's the boats to cut
adrift. Besides, I'm on deck, and you'd be
below, smothered like a rat in his hole."

With a series of parting growls Tom White
disappeared in the darkness, leaving me in a
very uncomfortable frame of mind. I was half
inclined at first to stay on deck all night, but
eventually determined to go below, and seek
oblivion from danger in sleep.

I envied my cabin companion, the fat German,
Schlafenwohl. He lay in profound slumber,
while his nose trumpeted defiance to the creaking
of the timbers and the dashing of the waves.
Taking advantage of a favourable lurch, I
clambered up to my berth, which was over the
German's head. I tried to think of everything I
could recal to my memory, unconnected with
ship-life, but the horrible snoring of my