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Chapter xiv.Change of Scene, and Change of Occupation.

Who'd be an author? This was a question I put to myself after two years' service in the ranks of my favorite profession. Yet I loved, more than any other, the occupation I had selected. The heart was so completely absorbed in its labors, and time passed so pleasantly and so quickly with the laborer, that it was only when I put down my pen to count or seek a substantial return for its application that the question of who'd be an author? floated on the mind. If the labors of the profession—because agreeable—were light, the wages were much lighter. When—which was the case during the latter part of my commercial engagement—I was in the receipt of four hundred a-year, and a guinea a day for travelling expenses, I used to consider such pay, for hard work, to be very small. But I now worked harder and longer—only with instead of against the grain—for less than half the sum. Although I wrote early and wrote late, wrote poetry and wrote prose, wrote for others and wrote for myself, it was some time before I wrote anything long enough or strong enough to produce me two hundred a-year. Nevertheless, I stuck to my "hobby," yet found by experience that certain concessions to public taste would probably lead to private benefit. On this faint glimmer of editorial wisdom, I changed, or at least modi- page 232fied my course, by trying to please my readers as well as myself. Instead of attempting to take them to a region whence they were not inclined to follow, I now tried to find out how far they could be led, without fear of their deserting their leader. Instead of again ascending to the clouds in a flight of imagination, I kept a run-away spirit on a more simple path of composition nearer home. By so doing I secured not only a greater number of followers, but the substantial benefits arising therefrom.

Time passed. Having either in a commercial or literary capacity, visited nearly every city, town, and district in the United Kingdom, I felt anxious for a peep at some of our colonial possessions. The period at which my desire originated was favorable to its consummation. Extensive-gold fields had just been discovered in the vast and (then) almost unpeopled continent of Australia. The excitement created in England by the announcement of the discovery, together with the general desire for authentic information on the subject, induced me to think that descriptive notes by an eye witness of the golden region might prove a "decided hit." The thought was at once clothed by action. Though sixteen thousand miles did appear a long way to go for materials to make a book, I was satisfied that the book—to be worth anything—should be something more than a fancy picture of one side of the world, drawn by an artist on the other side. The imagination may, and often does accomplish a good deal in the way of pretty pictures that are unlike anything else; but I had no wish to advise people to rush headlong—even on a golden errand——to the "sunny Antipodes" of which I knew nothing, except by report. Though the journey would not only be the longest, but by far the most speculative I had yet taken, I resolved to take it. As a literary man, I had page 233been long enough in business to become acquainted with articles that did, and articles that did not pay. Poetry with me c ould not be called good stock, though firm in its position—a removal from the shelf whereon it was first placed being unnecessary. In novel goods, there was so much competition by amateur speculators and small professionals, while the demand for the productions of two or three well known and deservedly popular heads was so large, that my own little store, against such heavy odds, was something like a dwarf contesting a race with giants. It was only now and then that the outrageously extravagant style of an article attracted attention towards my little literary shop. But there was one department in which I had not altogether labored in vain. My sketches of real life, whether social or commercial, had been tolerably successful. Like the main line of a railway, they had paid interest on the bad stock of unprofitable branches. Well. Here was an opportunity of providing for my patrons sketches of real life in earnest. Life in Australia was at this moment a reality with a vengeance.

Neither change of profession nor change of position in after life can entirely erase impressions made on the mind of youth by early occupation and habit. The tendency in human nature to show, by word or deed, some little sign of early training is not inaptly typified by the song that tells of a man so far forgetting the position he occupied on his own carriage as to alight therefrom, in order to give an old comrade "a shove behind his truck."

Previous to my connexion with the press, I had been for many years engaged in commerce. Subsequently to my engagement in commerce, I had been for many years connected with the press. I was now going to Australia for materials with which to make a book. Could I not, by page 234the aid of commercial knowledge, make a little money to cover the expenses of the trip? It was reported that everything in the golden region, except gold, was enormously dear. Could I not, without detracting from the dignity of an author, do a little trade, by exchanging a few things that were plentiful at home for the only thing that was reported cheap at the Antipodes? A desire to supply the wants of others, if not my own, induced me to decide in the affirmative. The way of the world had attractions which still enabled me to make a trifling sacrifice on a simple matter of taste, in order to benefit number one. After every pound I could muster—about four hundred—had been expended in providing a miscellaneous collection of articles adapted to any but a classical taste, I immediately set sail in a first-class ship on my half-literary, half-commercial enterprise.

A large passenger ship is, for the time, an extensive lodging-house, occupied by first, second, and third-class lodgers. The great difference between the liberty of the subject is, that the seaward occupants, if not entirely confined to their own apartments, have only a limited space for pedestrian exercise, while the inland residents can wander from home at their pleasure. But this temporary chain that keeps the voyagers within their dwelling, or permits them to take exercise only on the balcony—the poop—enables each member of the captive family to "take stock" of the other. For an agreeable as well as a disagreeable knowledge of human nature there is no place like a large passenger ship, and no opportunity like that of a three months' voyage with a miscellaneous party. Before the end of the excursion, a keen observer, without any apparatus beyond his own vision, may imprint on his memory the stereotyped likeness not only of the outward page 235form, but also of the inward beauties or blemishes which adorn or disfigure the various members of the social crew. My own observations during two voyages round the world would fill a moderate sized volume. Their insertion here would be foreign to the object of the present work. But, notwithstanding this, I must briefly allude to one passenger—one worthy of mention, because the leading features of the character are in every way worthy of emulation.

After we had passed the first fortnight on anything but a placid ocean, crossed the Bay of Biscay, and partially recovered from the effects of a sensation on which it is not (now) necessary to dwell, the names, the habits, and something of the character of each member of the aquatic family gradually began to dawn on the entire circle. Everybody knew everybody. While A informed B what A had been, what seen, what done, and from whom descended, B returned the favor, by a portrait of himself, and each respected so much of the self-drawn sketch of the other as the general bearing of the original seemed to justify. Thus were ideal or real pictures of number one furnished by the originals. But to this, as to other rules, there was an exception. That exception was here found in

A Desirable Passenger.

There was one passenger who had very little to say about herself, and nothing—except in the way of kindness—about anybody else. She sat next to the captain at meals, and the captain called her Miss Grace. By this name only was she known. But from the beginning to the end of the voyage Miss Grace was a mystery to all. She was an enigma which no one could solve. Some said the mould of her mind stamped her as a superior sort of governess. Others said the shabby-genteel appearance of her page 236apparel proved her to be either the daughter of some half-pay officer, or the orphan of a bankrupt merchant. But nobody could say positively who or what she was. Yet she was a being whom everyone loved—not merely respected but loved. Yes; she won the affection of all, without satisfying the curiosity of any.

How then did this lady obtain and exercise such power over the hearts of her fellow-passengers? To the reader this question may appear as great a riddle and as difficult to solve as the lady herself. But a few sentences may throw some light on the subject. The potent spell under which we were held originated partly through a feeling of sympathy excited by the lady's—seemingly—lonely situation, and partly by the unaffected yet never-ceasing desire she manifested for the happiness of all around. In a large ship, crowded with passengers, there are often other ailments than those produced by sea-sickness, and other storms than those arising from the natural elements of wind and water. At such a time most persons have enough to do in attending to themselves, without trying to redress the social grievances of those around. Yet there are a few among the many who entirely forget, or at least disregard their own trouble and discomfort, and seem to derive their chief enjoyment in their daily endeavours to contribute to the happiness of others. Of this small minority in the world Miss Grace happened to be a distinguished member. Whenever, wherever, or by whomsoever in the ship aid was needed, either to reconcile discordant spirits, comfort the broken-hearted, or administer to the wants of the sick, Miss Grace was always at hand. She had often relieved, if not dispelled, mental or bodily pain before anyone but herself and the sufferer knew of the wound. Neither the cause nor the subject, however dark and uninviting, pre- page 237vented Miss Grace from penetrating the path of sorrow, whenever she thought her presence and her aid might lessen the prevailing gloom. If a second or third-class passenger suffered—as several did suffer—from the effects of fever or some other fearful malady, Miss Grace, with an almost reckless disregard of personal danger, attended early and late at the bedside of the patient. From her own little private store of preserves and medical comforts she brought relief to the sufferer, when the advice and prescriptions of "an experienced surgeon"—a youth about twenty years of age, just emerged from his apprenticeship—proved unavailing, because the patient had no faith in the practitioner. Even poor Jack, a violent member of the crew, who said he'd pitch the doctor overboard, if he came to his berth, permitted a visit and accepted antidotes for his disease from Miss Grace. When he had recovered, he declared with an oath in the presence of his late attendant, that the lady had saved his life. She reproved him for returning for her services a fee she could not accept. The man was not again heard to swear during the rest of the voyage. Thus the moral influence over the mind equalled the power held by Miss Grace on the heart. This influence and the great extent thereof, may be illustrated by a simple incident and in a single sentence. One day, just as a couple of third-class passengers were about to settle their dispute by a pugilistic encounter, Miss Grace happened suddenly to make her appearance. Not only did the approaching combatants immediately sneak into their respective cabins, but those by whom they were surrounded, and who were eager for the coming sport, were at once scattered like a covey of small birds at the approach of an eagle.

Towards the close of the voyage Miss Grace herself became an invalid, and the loss of her daily visits was page 238most severely felt, especially by the third-class passengers. Excessive labor in her constant endeavour to advance both the temporal and spiritual welfare of others was the cause of her indisposition. That sympathy for the fair sufferer was felt throughout the ship, from the commander to the cabin-boy, may be inferred by what followed. The gentle philanthropist had often expressed a wish that those on board who could afford a trifle would unite in raising by subscription a small sum of money for the benefit of a poor but deserving family. This family of six persons occupied berths in the third class. The parents had been in a good position, but had lost all their property. Their passage had been paid by friends at home, and they had now only a few pounds with which to enter on a new career at the Antipodes.

The highest compliment that can be paid to a public benefactor is to carry out any unfinished project of benevolence during the absence, through illness or other causes, of the originator. It is also the highest honor that can be paid to the memory of departed greatness. It was resolved, if possible, to accomplish the desire of Miss Grace, and then to make the lady acquainted with the result. The attempt was made and proved successful. In three days, thirty-five pounds had been collected. The subscription list, with the amount thereof, was sent to Miss Grace, together with a request that she would, on her recovery, present the contribution to the family for whom it was intended. The money was at once returned, with the intimation that the proper persons to make the presentation were those who had kindly carried out the suggestion of the subscriber whose name appeared last on the list. That name was indicated by Miss Grace under the initials A. G. for the sum of fifteen pounds. This raised the total to fifty pounds. page 239The unexpected contribution of fifteen pounds from Miss Grace created an immense amount of surprise and excitement. The sensation was not altogether an agreeable one. The mysterious donor became a greater mystery than ever. Nobody supposed she had fifteen pounds for her own use, much less for dispensation in charity. All on board had long been satisfied that her heart was one of the noblest that ever filled a human form with heavenly emotions. But some of her admirers began, now, to doubt whether she was quite sound in the head. Nothing appeared to justify her extraordinary liberality. The plain apparel and unassuming manner of the giver seemed to denote that she was the only one of the first-class passengers to whom a sovereign would be an object of consideration. The donation was in every way something as incomprehensible as the donor herself.

A ship at sea is for the time being a little world in itself. The inhabitants know nothing except by surmise of what is going on elsewhere. In so circumscribed a space an object of less interest either than the mysterious Miss Grace or her equally mysterious gift often proves a subject for continued excitement and discussion. Here, as in the outer world, a trifling matter will sometimes swell into a subject of importance, in the same way as a little event may give birth to a great one. At the suggestion of Miss Grace, a collection had just been made in behalf of a poor family. This was regarded simply as an act of charity. It was followed by another—not merely an act of charity, but a substantial and universal token of regard in favor of the founder of the first. We were within a few days' sail of our destination, and it was resolved, as one of the promoters justly observed, "to do something handsome" for the lady who had devoted her time and money, and impaired her page 240health for the benefit of her fellow passengers. Everybody supposed Miss Grace to be poorer than the family to whom fifty pounds had just been presented, one-third of which had been subscribed by the fair philanthropist. Everbody likewise believed—not only believed but felt that to allow the lady to leave the ship on her mysterious mission, of which no one but herself knew anything, without a suitable token of regard from her admirers, would be a lasting disgrace to all on board. A subsciption was therefore decided on. The list was opened and closed on the same day—inasmuch as on the second day there was not a human being in the ship that had not sent in a trifle towards the proposed object. Little children from five years old and upward, sailor boys and sailors—all had contributed their mite, and the subscription list contained the name of every individual in the ship, except that of Miss Grace herself. Thus in the space of a few hours, eighty-two pounds fifteen shillings had been collected. Its presentation was a pleasing duty the subscribers had yet to perform.

To say that modesty is ever found the handmaid to virtues of the highest order is simply to state a fact that has been more or less apparent in every age since the world began. Miss Grace was no mock philanthropist, therefore not anxious either to see or hear the publication of her own good deeds. She had been informed of the "testimonial" that awaited her acceptance, and had communicated to the informant her wishes on the subject. On the same day on which the captain gave to his crew half a sheep for a fresh dinner, together with an extra allowance of "grog," he invited all the second and third-class passengers to a substantial tea. This was to be followed by a speech from the chairman (the captain) concerning the bag of money he had been deputed to present to Miss Grace. The first- page 241class passengers were invited to be present after the repast, in order to hear the message in which they had a joint interest. Of course, everybody expected that the chief object of interest—as she had nearly recovered from her indisposition—would herself be present on the occasion. Apart from a general desire to testify by their hands—as they had already done by their money—to the noble and unselfish labors of their heroine, the majority of the passengers were curious in their anxiety to learn whether the object of their esteem would on this occasion withdraw the veil which had so long and so effectually concealed everything pertaining to her own history.

So soon as the repast had received from its numerous patrons the justice due to its recherché character, the captain of the feast, who was also captain of the ship,—and a noble fellow to boot—rose and said:—

"Ladies and gentlemen, and youngsters,—speech-making is no part of my profession. I never tried my hand at spinning yarns, except an occasional rope-yarn. Though a bad hand at this sort of work, the dignity of the subject on the present occasion makes me feel like one who has already put his foot in it. You see, ladies and gentlemen, I have soon proved my first proposition, by trying to take a lofty course. But I'll now put about again, and keep on my own natural tack. (Cheers and laughter.) Well. You have deputed me to present this bag of gold to a lady who has indeed proved herself worthy of your esteem. (Cheers, and cries of—Miss Grace.) If you'll only haul taut your weather-main brace, I'll go-head. The lady is not too unwell to attend, but she can't attend. (Sensation and renewed cries for Miss Grace.) I am going to tell you a secret. See, now,—you are quiet in a moment. One little word has stilled the storm. What a pleasant page 242thing to have the command of a little secret. It is surely the great secret of public speaking. (Laughter.) I have now got you so tight in hand, that I'm almost inclined to retain my power a little longer. (Laughter and cries of no, no.) Well, as I'm not fond of a dead calm, I'll open out for your satisfaction. I see that the ladies, though seated at table, are all on the tiptoe of curiosity. Let me ask one question, the answer to which will decide whether you are to have all or only half the secret. May this money be applied by the recipient to any other than the object for which it was intended? (Loud cries of no, no; it's for Miss Grace, for herself only) Well, then, your kindness makes it necessary for me to reveal a personal matter which the lady has kept, and still wished to have kept from your knowledge. The money which you have subscribed for Miss Grace cannot be accepted, because it is not needed by Lady Grace Courtly. (Great sensation.) Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that unassuming form that has done so much towards making you contented and happy during the voyage is a lady by birth, a lady of fortune, and need I tell you that, above all, she is a lady in her actions? (Great cheering and excitement.) When she has so strongly impressed this fact on the mind of every one on board, you may be at a loss to imagine her motive for concealing her birthright from all but myself. On her first entering this ship, she desired me not to publish my knowledge of her position and title. But she assigned no reason for her wish. You are now as well qualified as myself to form an opinion on the subject. I am inclined to think that her ladyship supposed she could do more for you in the character of Miss Grace than you would have been willing to accept from her under the flying colors of Lady Grace Courtly. (Loud cheers.) And that she wished to page 243be received by you as an affectionate sister, rather than as a formal patron. (Applause.) The success of her endeavours is ratified by your proffered testimonial. (Cheers.) But there will be something that will endure longer—something to perpetuate her memory better than gold. If those brothers and sisters whom Lady Grace has served, at the cost of her own health, are only what they ought to be, the likeness of their benefactress will hang on their hearts while life itself shall therein find a dwelling-place. (Immense cheering and cries for Miss Grace, Lady Grace, Lady Grace Courtly.) Don't make quite So much noise. The silent tears which I observe falling in some quarters constitute the best tribute to the lady's worth. Well, You have only had half the secret. Would you like the other half? (Yes, yes, and loud applause.) But I must tell you the price, though the money is already advanced. You see this bag of gold. What is to be done with it—returned to the subscribers? (No, no.) What then? Are you willing that the lady for whom it was originally intended should settle the question? (Yes, yes, from a hundred voices.) But I must put it to the vote, as her ladyship will not act, if there be but one dissentient. Those who are in favor of the proposition hold up one hand. (This request was responded to by everybody holding up both hands.) The opinion seems unanimous, but I'll simply ask, is there any opponent? (No, no, and great cheering.) Well, ladies and gentlemen, unanimity is the seal under which I am permitted to act on her ladyship's behalf. As you have paid the purchase money and fulfilled the conditions of the contract, here is the freeholder's assignment of her rights. Let me first tell you that the original sum of eighty-two pounds fifteen shillings is now raised by her ladyship to one hundred guineas. (Tremendous applause, page 244with loud and continued cries for Miss Grace, Lady Grace, Miss Courtly, Lady Courtly.) I tell you her ladyship is in her cabin, and has no wish to be disturbed. You would surely not deprive her of this one comfort, when she has been the cause of your enjoying so many? She is fully sensible of your kindness, but is by far too sensitive for this outward manifestation of esteem. Besides which, her presence during this excitement might place her in danger of being literally torn to pieces by her own lovers. (Laughter and cheers.) And you know very well she has always evinced a desire to allay rather than to arouse the passions. (Renewed applause.) I will now read from a slip of paper I hold in my hand the suggestions of Lady Courtly concerning the distribution of the sum of one hundred guineas, of which you have subscribed eighty-two pounds fifteen shillings. Her ladyship wishes seventy pounds to be remitted to England for the widow of the poor fellow—one of the crew—that we lost overboard off the Cape of Good Hope. (Great cheering, followed by a tremendous volley of hurrahs from the sailors.) I may here observe that her ladyship had previously placed thirty pounds in my hands for the same object. (Renewed applause.) The remaining portion of the contribution is thus allotted:—Five guineas to Miss Faithful, the young lady who has so kindly assisted in the school which has been established on board by Lady Courtly. (Loud cheers.) One guinea to each of three scholars who have obtained the greatest number of good marks. (Cries of bravo little ones, followed by an enquiry of 'Mother, am I to have a guinea?' This query, together with the answer from another scholar—'Yes, Annie, and so am I,'—created a considerable amount both of laughter, applause, and general excitement among the children.) Each of the page 245other scholars will receive the sum of five shillings, unless Miss Faithful should deem any undeserving through wilful misconduct. (Increased uproar among the children, with the most supplicating appeals and glances to Miss Faithful.) Lady Courtly wishes the balance to be applied in the purchase of Bibles for any of the sailors who may be disposed to accept a copy, or who may at present be without one. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have said my say, and I hope my little secrets have satisfied the curiosity of the curious. You are now aware that we have a real lady on board. (Laughter and cheers.) You have long since discovered the value of the article, and I have now given you the title. In conclusion, let me hope that you are all satisfied with the manner in which Lady Courtly has directed both her own and your money to be distributed, and that the objects selected as recipients of the bounty are alike worthy of her ladyship's judgment and your approval." (The captain resumed his seat amid the most enthusiastic cheering.)

One of the first-class passengers here stepped forward and said:—"Ladies and gentlemen, I am quite sure you will not allow your excellent chairman to vacate the post he has so ably filled, without according him a hearty vote of thanks not only for his services on this social occasion, but also for his uniform kindness to all on board during the long voyage which is now nearly brought to a close. (Loud cheers.) Our worthy commander would have found our good opinion of him supported by evidence stronger than words, had not that priceless jewel, the title of which we have just heard, caused the substantial part of our offerings to take a charitable direction." (Loud applause, followed by three cheers for the chairman).

The captian again rose and thus returned thanks for the page 246ovation:—"I thank you for your good opinion. For doing his duty, a commander does sometimes get paid by the passengers as well as by the owners of a ship. There are not many modest men in the world who would object to double pay for their services, even though one of the awards should be a gratuitous one. (Hear, hear.) When people have insisted on proving the value of their words by a corresponding number of guineas, my own modesty has never, that I am aware of, prevented me from putting the test of friendly professions into my pocket. (Laughter and cheers.) But so far as this voyage is concerned, the pleasure I have derived through seeing you contented and happy, has proved to me a reward of far greater value than a few ounces of gold. (Renewed applause.) The presence of agreeable passengers often relieves a sailor's life of a good deal of its monotony. During this passage we have, somehow or other, been all like one family. If I could only be sure of always having such a family at sea, with a real lady at the helm, I should never desire to be anything but a sailor. (Laughter and applause.) Never, till now, should I have thought it possible that in the midst of so large a number of persons one gentle and, I may say, God-like spirit could have imparted a kindred tone throughout the entire circle. (Cheers.) I have always given the ladies credit for a good many of our joys, but, after this voyage, I must give them credit for a good many more. We are now within a few hours' sail of land, and let me in conclusion hope that you may never live under greater trouble there than has fallen to your lot at sea." (Great cheering, during which the captain vacated the chair and the party gradually dispersed).

Although at the beginning of the voyage Lady Grace Courtly contrived to enter the ship like some obscure page 247individual, unobserved and almost unattended, she was not allowed to take her departure in the like manner. No doubt she would gladly have slipped away, without any manifestation of esteem on the part of her admirers, beyond an affectionate and almost silent farewell. This was accorded her by many—probably by her warmest lovers, as a noisy tongue is not an infallible test of a sincere heart. But in a mixed company enthusiasm, when kindled, assumes a variety of forms. Lady Courtly had herself fanned into a flame a warmth of feeling that naturally surrounded its author on the occasion of a final parting with those whose affections she had won.

We had no sooner dropped anchor in Hobson's Bay than an eight-oared cutter appeared alongside. A gentleman from the boat came on board, spoke a few words to the captain, and was immediately conducted to the cabin occupied by Lady Courtly. A rumour was soon circulated that the visitor was either her ladyship's brother or cousin, and that he would in a short time convey his distinguished relative to the shore. An extraordinary commotion among the passengers was at once observable. Even the sailors, Who were busily engaged in furling sail and putting the ship in order, seemed anxious to show some mark of respect to the heroine of the voyage, as the time approached for her final departure from the ship. That moment had now arrived, and a most exciting one it was. When her ladyship had left her cabin and appeared on deck for the last time, a scene that altogether baffles minute description atonce presented itself. The lady's brother, or cousin, or whatever he was, must have been astonished at the spectacle, if he had never before witnessed a public recognition of his fair relative's merits. Her ladyship probably gave and received more kisses on this occasion than were page 248ever before exchanged in so short a period. Every child, and nearly every female on board shared the affectionate salutation. All alike, forgetting the social distinction between themselves and their benefactress, rushed to an embrace that was to convey their last external token of gratitude, love, and duty. The remark of a dear little child who—fearing she might be overlooked amid the prevailing excitement—loudly exclaimed "Do kiss me, Miss Grace," is a fair type of the manner in which titles, position, and conventional forms were all neglected and forgotten in the natural ebullition of kindred hearts. Impressed by a sense of having simply performed her duty, Lady Courtly herself seemed more surprised than anyone else at the warmth of the ovation. But she was much affected by its evident sincerity. When she had taken her seat in the boat that was to convey her to the shore, and countless white handkerchiefs, together with a few that might once have been white, performed the double duty of wiping away their owners' tears, and waving a final adieu to the fair philanthropist, the scene was not only a most affecting but a most imposing one. So soon as the cutter was fairly clear of the ship, the sailors received the signal for giving vent to their pent-up feelings. The captain's friendly appeal to the gallantry of his crew in the hoped-for command of "Now boys, three cheers for the sailor's friend," was responded to by a volley as loud and as fervent as ever greeted a sovereign that ruled the hearts of British subjects. And when, at the unexpected discharge of a cannon which the carpenter had secretly commissioned for the occasion, those cheers were renewed with increased vigor, and Lady Courtly waved her own handkerchief in recognition of the compliment, the excitement was intense. The Queen of Great Britain has at no page 249period of her popular reign created a more thrilling sensation than was at this moment produced by Lady Grace Courtly on the minds of her fondly-gazing but already-distant admirers.

"* * * she came, unheralded by fame,
To leave behind a dearly-cherished name."

To the foregoing truthful story, I will only add my own belief, that all on board had, by the potent influence of Lady Courtly's acts, had their opinion of the nobility in general raised at least fifty per cent.; and that, at the close of the voyage, everybody felt convinced that, if Lady Grace was a fair sample of other real ladies, the "upper ten thousand" contained living gems of greater value than the estimate usually taken of them by the less aristocratic multitude.