None thought of any change. The crew had done what they could, and the
skipper, on his part, had also been accommodating.

Now they might keep their minds at rest. The brig lay in a dangerous
place, but now she would have to lie--and there she lies to this day.






A DINNER.


There was a large dinner-party at the merchant's. The judge had made a
speech in honour of the home-coming of the student, the eldest son of
the house, and the merchant had replied with another in honour of the
judge; so far all was well and good. And yet one could see that the host
was disquieted about something. He answered inconsequentially, decanted
Rhine wine into port, and betrayed absence of mind in all manner of
ways.

He was meditating upon a speech--a speech beyond the scope of the
regulation after-dinner orations. This was something very remarkable;
for the merchant was no speaker, and--what was still more remarkable--he
knew it himself.

When, therefore, well on in the dinner, he hammered upon the table for
silence, and said that he must give expression to a sentiment that lay
at his heart, everybody instantly felt that something unusual was