unmarried young English lady, was Miss Maryon. The novelty was, that her
christian-name was Marion too. Marion Maryon. Many a time I have run
off those two names in my thoughts, like a bit of verse. Oh many, and
many, and many a time!

We saw out all the drink that was produced, like good men and true, and
then took our leaves, and went down to the beach. The weather was
beautiful; the wind steady, low, and gentle; the island, a picture; the
sea, a picture; the sky, a picture. In that country there are two rainy
seasons in the year. One sets in at about our English Midsummer; the
other, about a fortnight after our English Michaelmas. It was the
beginning of August at that time; the first of these rainy seasons was
well over; and everything was in its most beautiful growth, and had its
loveliest look upon it.

"They enjoy themselves here," I says to Charker, turning surly again.
"This is better than private-soldiering."

We had come down to the beach, to be friendly with the boat's-crew who
were camped and hutted there; and we were approaching towards their
quarters over the sand, when Christian George King comes up from the
landing-place at a wolf's-trot, crying, "Yup, So-Jeer!"--which was that
Sambo Pilot's barbarous way of saying, Hallo, Soldier! I have stated
myself to be a man of no learning, and, if I entertain prejudices, I hope
allowance may be made. I will now confess to one. It may be a right one
or it may be a wrong one; but, I never did like Natives, except in the
form of oysters.

So, when Christian George King, who was individually unpleasant to me
besides, comes a trotting along the sand, clucking, "Yup, So-Jeer!" I