talking, and observing what was going on about me. Conversation could not fail to be interesting, for my friend Dean Pitferge was sitting near me.
"Have you quite recovered from the effects of your tumble?" I asked him.
"Perfectly," replied he, "but it's no go."
"What is no go? You?"
"No, our steam-ship; the screw boilers are not working well; we cannot get enough pressure."
"You are anxious, then, to get to New York?"
"Not in the least, I speak as an engineer, that is all. I am very comfortable here, and shall sincerely regret leaving this collection of originals which chance has thrown together . . . for my recreation."
"Originals!" cried I, looking at the passengers who crowded the saloon; "but all those people are very much alike."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the Doctor, "one can see you have hardly looked at them, the species is the same, I allow, but in that species what a variety there is! Just notice that group of men down there, with their easy-going air, their legs stretched on the sofas, and hats screwed down on their heads. They are Yankees, pure Yankees, from the small states of Maine, Vermont, and Connecticut, the produce of New England. Energetic and intelligent men, rather too much influenced by 'the
