of an Orchid Hunter. 2 



and it was not long- before the white-crested rollers 

 of the ocean showed us that the mud-banks of the 

 Mersey were left far behind. 



On looking round for what society the ship af- 

 forded I found Spratt, the captain, an excellent fellow, 

 who, besides the valuable information acquired by 

 a long experience in and out of almost every port 

 on the surface of the globe, possessed a good vein 

 of humour — not at all despisable under the circum- 

 stances. Besides, he was not mven to borine his 

 companions in conversation with a long history of how 

 many of those remarkable beings called lords, earls, 

 dukes, marquesses, etc., he had safely piloted over the 

 Atlantic. I also noticed two of the passengers : the 

 one a stout, burly gentleman, of from forty-five to fifty 

 years of age, to all appearances a retired sea captain (it 

 might have been of a slave-trader) ; the other a delicate 

 lady of eighteen — a beauty with the figure of a Venus 

 and the features of a nymph, and a pair of large, 

 black fathomless eyes that would grace an Andalusian, 

 whose melancholy was softened by dimpled cheeks of 

 the most delicate peach-bloom, the whole framed with 

 a rich profusion of waving raven hair, a glance at 

 which was sufficient to give you the impression that 

 you had the pleasure of seeing a beautiful woman. A 

 casual observer would imagine that the relationship 

 between the elderly gentleman and the fair young 



