world. The wedding has been decided upon for the last week in
September, so I suppose that I shall have to come back to town before
very long to see about my trousseau.

There is really nothing so bewildering to anyone who sees it for the
first time as the exquisite order and dainty perfection of a yacht in
which its owner takes a pride, and can afford to gratify his whim. And
this is the case with Jack. The deck shines like polished parquet. The
sails and ropes are faultlessly clean, and Jack says that the masts
have just been scraped and the funnel repainted. The brass nails and
the binnacle are as perfectly in order as if they were costly
instruments in an optician's window. There is a small deck cargo of
coal in white canvas sacks, with leather straps and handles. And there
is the deck-house with its plate-glass windows and velvet fittings and
spring-blinds.

Soon after I arrived I went down into the engine-room, where I saw
machinery as scrupulously clean as if it were part of some gigantic
watch which a grain of dust might throw out of gear. On the deck are
delightful P. and O. lounges with their arms doing duty for small
tables. All around the wheel and upon the roof of the deck-house, and
here and there on stands against the bulwarks, there are ranged in
pots, bright red geraniums contrasted with the yellow calceolaria, and
the deliriously scented heliotrope. Altogether, everything is charming.

We go delightful trips every day, and it doesn't matter whether there
is a favourable wind or not, as Jack's is a steam yacht. We have slept
on board except one night when it was rather rough, and then Mrs.
Vivian and I stayed at the South Western Hotel.