Belinda, as I have mentioned, occupied the Picture Room.  We had but three other chambers:  the Corner Room, the Cupboard Room, and the Garden Room.  My old friend, Jack Governor, “slung his hammock,” as he called it, in the Corner Room.  I have always regarded Jack as the finest-looking sailor that ever sailed.  He is gray now, but as handsome as he was a quarter of a century ago—­ nay, handsomer.  A portly, cheery, well-built figure of a broad-shouldered man, with a frank smile, a brilliant dark eye, and a rich dark eyebrow.  I remember those under darker hair, and they look all the better for their silver setting.  He has been wherever his Union namesake flies, has Jack, and I have met old shipmates of his, away in the Mediterranean and on the other side of the Atlantic, who have beamed and brightened at the casual mention of his name, and have cried, “You know Jack Governor?  Then you know a prince of men!” That he is!  And so unmistakably a naval officer, that if you were to meet him coming out of an Esquimaux snow-hut in seal’s skin, you would be vaguely persuaded he was in full naval uniform.

Jack once had that bright clear eye of his on my sister; but, it fell out that he married another lady and took her to South America, where she died.  This was a dozen years ago or more.  He brought down with him to our haunted house a little cask of salt beef; for, he is always convinced that all salt beef not of his own pickling, is mere carrion, and invariably, when he goes to London, packs a piece in his portmanteau.  He had also volunteered to bring with him one “Nat Beaver,” an old comrade of his, captain of a merchantman.  Mr. Beaver, with a thick-set wooden face and figure, and apparently as hard as a block all over, proved to be an intelligent man, with a world of watery experiences in him, and great practical knowledge.  At times, there was a curious nervousness about him, apparently the lingering result of some old illness; but, it seldom lasted many minutes.  He got the Cupboard Room, and lay there next to Mr. Undery, my friend and solicitor:  who came down, in an amateur capacity, “to go through with it,” as he said, and who plays whist better than the whole Law List, from the red cover at the beginning to the red cover at the end.

I never was happier in my life, and I believe it was the universal feeling among us.  Jack Governor, always a man of wonderful resources, was Chief Cook, and made some of the best dishes I ever ate, including unapproachable curries.  My sister was pastry cook and confectioner.  Starling and I were Cook’s Mate, turn and turn about, and on special occasions the chief cook “pressed” Mr. Beaver.  We had a great deal of outdoor sport and exercise, but nothing was neglected within, and there was no ill-humor or misunderstanding among us, and our evenings were so delightful that we had at least one good reason for being reluctant to go to bed.