to the ham and eggs on his plate. He was handsome, too, but his full
beard was reddish, whereas Mr. Arbuton's mustache was flaxen; and his
dress was not worn with that scrupulosity with which the Bostonian bore
his clothes; there was a touch of slovenliness in him that scarcely
consorted with the alert, ex-military air of some of his movements.
"Good-looking young John Bull," he thought concerning Mr. Arbuton, and
then thought no more about him, being no more self-judged before the
supposed Englishman than he would have been before so much Frenchman or
Spaniard. Mr. Arbuton, on the other hand, if he had met an Englishman so
well dressed as himself, must at once have arraigned himself, and had
himself tacitly tried for his personal and national difference. He
looked in his turn at these people, and thought he should have nothing
to do with them, in spite of the long-lashed gray eyes.

It was not that they had made the faintest advance towards acquaintance,
or that the choice of knowing them or not was with Mr. Arbuton; but he
had the habit of thus protecting himself from the chances of life, and a
conscience against encouraging people whom he might have to drop for
reasons of society. This was sometimes a sacrifice, for he was not past
the age when people take a lively interest in most other human beings.
When breakfast was over, and he had made the tour of the boat, and seen
all his fellow-passengers, he perceived that he could have little in
common with any of them, and that probably the journey would require the
full exercise of that tolerant spirit in which he had undertaken a
branch of summer travel in his native land.

The rush of air against the steamer was very raw and chill, and the
forward promenade was left almost entirely to the English professional
people, who walked rapidly up and down, with jokes and laughter of their
kind, while the wind blew the girl's hair in loose gold about her fresh