luggers in the place surrendered to terms,
and said that he thought he knew a crew of
four men who would consent to go for the
sum which my brother and our friends
offered. Well, this was as it should be, and
we began to rub our hands—I say we,
because, in all the preparations and in the
voyage itself, I was as much interested as
anybody, though, owing to my infirmity of
s—kn—s, unable to engage in the cruise
itself. We began, then, to rub our hands,
and to say with Richard, "Now, by Saint
Paul, the work goes bravely on."

Then came a new obstacle—passports. On
applying at the neighbouring town of Bluffybeach,
it was found that the power of granting
such credentials had been taken from it,
and that there was no place nearer than
Divery where they were obtainable. "You
see, gentlemen," said the stupid official at this
place, "if you had been going to Calais or
Boulogne in the excursion steamer, you would not
have required passports." Yes, exactly: but
then, you see, we were not going to Calais nor
to Boulogne, nor in an excursion steamer, and
so we had to suffer for it. There, I have said
we again—I really cannot help it, and must
petition to be allowed the use of that
pronoun till the start in the lugger is absolutely
made. Well, nothing daunted, the
Dunkerque cruisers started for Divery, though
that city was distant enough to involve a
steam-boat journey. But there, at any rate,
no difficulties awaited them. The "Charged
with Affairs" at this place had no sooner cast
his eyes on Balchild, whom he had never
seen before, than he inquired, as by some
strange intuition, "Are you a solicitor?"
Being answered in the affirmative, he
proceeded to inform our adventurers that the
recommendation of a member of that honourable
profession would be quite sufficient for
their purpose.

"But surely," says the modest Balchild,
'I can't recommend myself?"

"O yes, you can," replies the officer,
preparing the documents.

So, having first affectionately and in the
most nattering terms recommended himself,
our legal friend proceeds with equal
cordiality of expression to recommend his two
companions, and passports, attributing to our
travellers all the cardinal virtues, and two or
three more into the bargain, were put into
their hands. It was in coming away from
this ordeal, which proves so complete a
safeguard to foreign power, that our friend
Purkis (he's a deuce of a fellow for knowing
patriots is Purkis) exchanged greetings with
a courteous foreigner who was passing.

"Who's that, now?" says my half-brother,
Chowler. " I think I know the face."

"That," replies Purkis, "is M—zz—ni."

There remained still one very important
part of the proceedings to be attended to.
Hitherto, all the negotiations with regard to
the cruise had taken place through a third
person, the part owner of the boat before
alluded to. It became now highly desirable
that we should be brought in contact with
the skipper and the crew themselves, and
make their personal acquaintance. It was
therefore arranged that my brother Chowler
and I—our two friends having gone up to
town for a day—should, by way of making a
beginning, descend to the little quay at once,
and there go through the ceremony of
introduction. Arrived at the pier, we very soon
came upon our original friend the part
owner of the lugger—Sargent by name, and
as good a fellow as ever handled a rope.
Lounging by his side was a somewhat aged
man, in a tall beaver hat, which had once
been black, but which had got very brown
with sea-air, and which had the aspect of
having all its life been brushed the wrong
way. This person, it should be added,
presented the appearance in costume and all
other respects of a market gardener in a
profound state of depression.

"Well, Sargent," said my half-brother
Chowler, cheerily, "I want to make
acquaintance with some of our crew."

"This, sir,"replies Sargent, indicating the
market-gardener by a wave of the hand, "is
one of them."

The man with the un-nautical hat betrayed
by no movement, sound, or gesture, any
indication that he was conscious he was being
alluded to—except by slowly turning his
back towards us, and looking despondingly
out to sea with the air of one who had no.
hope but in the grave, and that a watery one.
There was an awkward pause.

"Where are the others?" says my half-
brother.

"Well, sir, they will wait upon you this
evening if it will be convenient."

"By all means," says my brother; and so
the interview terminated.

"This is a nasty beginning, Charley," said
James Chowler, as we walked away.

Of course it was in the middle of dinner that
the announcement was made that the sailors
had arrived, and wished to see us. So we
got up, acquiring an instant indigestion then
and there, and went out. There was nobody
at the door, but looking up the road, we saw,
about thirty yards off three obese old men,
drawn up in a row, and apparently waiting
to be "spoke." They remained perfectly
stationary as we bore down upon them, and
gave no signs of life, save that one of them,
who appeared to be in a profuse perspiration
—a condition which we afterwards discovered
to be chronic—did incessantly wipe, and, as
it were, staunch his palms on a pocket-
handkerchief, which, compressed into a
compact and tight ball, he continued to roll over
and over, and to pass backwards and
forwards betwixt his hands. The perspiring
man was accompanied by the market-gardener,
to whom we had been already introduced,
and by a short and captious-looking