"I'm going to send a small subscription for these brave fellows to Messrs. Roggeweld and Stallenbosch," said I, "shall I put down your name for anything?"

"Of course you will," said Kabob; “I'll give the life-boat fellows ten rupees for their gallantry."

And the poor seamen of the schooner, that have lost their all ?" I urged.

66

Why, yes, as you say, they must be badly off-let me see, five rupees for them and five for the life-boat fellows, that'll do;" and Kabob quaffed another glass of claret, as he formed the generous resolution.

I called on Messrs. Roggeweld and Stallenbosch, in order to gain some information respecting the unfortunate schooner and her

crew.

"A very sad thing, sir," said the clerk; "the poor fellows have lost all, and the islanders too; their whole year's produce was in that schooner."

"What islanders ?" I asked.

"Why, you see, Sir, the schooner came from the Tristan D'Acunha Islands, and the men in her belonged to them. They come over

every year with their produce, and after disposing of it here, take back the few things they require."

"Indeed!" said I, as I walked away, after paying my subscription and Kabob's" indeed!"

There are few things that men are more disposed to conceal than ignorance. It requires a good deal of resolution to say "I don't know anything about it," when your companion makes an observation that puzzles

you.

"Strange that they should put a contralto and a soprano together," said a gentleman who was sitting beside a friend of mine at one of the concerts in Exeter Hall the other night-a friend utterly ignorant of the very elements of musical lore.

"Very strange indeed," was his reply, whilst he had no very definite idea as to what either a contralto or a soprano was, and, therefore, could not see, of course, why they should not be put together.

"Very strange indeed," was my friend's reply, as he looked into the face of the

gentleman who had made the observation to see that he was quite serious; he had not the moral fortitude to say that he really did not know what a contralto or a soprano

was.

Do you think, under similar circumstances -supposing such an amount of ignorance possible in your case, good sir or madam-do you think, under similar circumstances, you would have answered more honestly-would you not mutter "Yes" or "Hem," or some other unmeaning expletive of assent, rather than confess that you did not see anything strange in it? If you would say so-as, perhaps, nine out of ten would, from various motives-some not to give offence, some to avoid the appearance of ignorance, some to be polite -if you would, then do not be astonished that I walked out of Messrs. Roggeweld and Stallenbosch's office without asking where the Tristan D'Acunha Islands were, or without informing the clerk that, up to that moment, I was profoundly ignorant of their existence.

Verily, human nature is a strange thing, and we, living representatives of that human

nature-you and I, good sir, you and I, good madam,are strange people. Let me conclude with Shakespeare, however, “an odd man, lady, every man is odd."

But although I felt my ignorance, and was ashamed of it, I had no idea of sitting down quietly under it and suffering it; no, I made up my mind to rout it forthwith, not to endure it on any account.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON AND KING GLASS.

"THE Tristan D'Acunha Islands," I muttered to myself, as I made my way that day through the streets of Cape Town to my lodgings in the suburbs-" the Tristan D'Acunha Islands, where can they be?"

I met Mrs. Dordrecht, my good landlady, on the stairs, as I made my way to my sitting

room.

"Where are the Tristan D'Acunha Islands, Mrs. Dordrecht ?" I asked.

Mrs. Dordrecht did not know-had never heard of them before-was not quite sure that such islands were in existence at all-smiled faintly as she replied, to show that she discovered some profound witticism in the ques