18 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



old sailing-transports were in the habit of taking four 

 months to get to China, and the only port en route 

 touched at was Anjer, on the Straits of Sunda ! 

 Many a poor fellow had to feed in those days, for 

 weeks at a time, on hard tack and plum duff- 

 mysterious creations of the cook's galley that do not 

 come before the passenger-traveller of the present 

 period. But, speaking of plum duff, I can safely assert 

 that the dark-coloured objects that were inserted in it 

 were not always raisins, for raisins I never knew to 

 possess legs. 



I once heard a story well, we have got to sea, 

 for Ushant is on our bow, and after we pass it the 

 Bay of Biscay is before us, and there is no place so con- 

 ducive to spinning yarns as board ship on broad ocean. 

 The yarn goes in this way : Competition ran so high 

 in steam -boat traffic on the Hudson, that owners not 

 only carried passengers free, but provided them gra- 

 tuitously with meals. A thrifty, parsimonious man 

 deemed this an opportunity not to be lost, so he travelled 

 incessantly between New York and Albany. At last he 

 attracted so much attention that the daintiest viands 

 were reserved for less public characters. How strange 

 familiarity should breed contempt ! We are aware that 

 no one is a hero to. his own valet. Thus the worthy 

 man suffered in silence for a time, till the invariable 

 indifference of the food caused him to remonstrate. 

 " Mr. Steward," he said, " I have put up with flies 

 for currants, but hang me, sir, if I stand black-beetles 

 for plums ! " and the steam-boat owners had in future 

 to grieve over the loss of a patron. 



Good weather and smooth seas made Morris all 

 right, and he became one of the sociables, This was 



