After being in port a few days we all left the “Tropic,” and I spent a couple of weeks in seeing Cork and the beautiful country where the people are so genial and hospitable.  After seeing all I wanted to see, I took steamer from Cork for Bristol, spent one day there, and then left by train for London.  The train left in the evening, and here a rather amusing incident occurred.  I had taken a second-class ticket, and after taking my seat, it being cold weather, I prepared to make myself comfortable for the night.  In my valise I had a rough sealskin or Esquimau jacket with a hood to it.  I put this on and was nice and warm, sitting in the corner of the carriage.  Shortly afterwards a man in livery came in and sat in the corner opposite to me.  Then came an old lady and her husband, an Irish army officer returning to India.  The old lady was helped in by the gentleman, but as soon as she saw me she cried out, “O Lord!” and fell back.  Then the old gentleman boosted her in again, saying, “Go in, you old stupid!” and after the second attempt she gave it up, saying she wouldn’t travel in a menagerie.  She had taken me for a bear, and the man in livery for my keeper.  The old gentleman got in, and she remained on the platform until I assured her that there was no danger.  Then she came in very reluctantly and sat as far away as possible until we reached Bath, where the man in livery alighted.  After that the old lady, her husband, and I became good friends for the remainder of the journey.

Memory For Voices.

After the bear incident I spent some time in London, then joined the emigrant ship “Oriental,” bound to Adelaide, South Australia.  I was third officer.  We took on board about one hundred families of excellently selected farm labourers, shepherds, and ploughmen, and after having made a good voyage arrived safely in Adelaide.  The Immigration Commissioners came on board and inspected the passengers.  The result was most satisfactory.  There was no complaint of ill-treatment or deficiency in supplies, and in less than thirty-six hours every family was engaged and sent into the country.  And the Commissioners awarded to our doctor fifty pounds sterling, the chief officer fifty pounds for his supervision, and myself fifty pounds for the supervision of the commissariat department.

After a short stay in Adelaide, we sailed for Madras, in India, and after a good voyage we arrived and anchored in the evening when it was quite dark.  There was quite a number of native business men came off in catamarans and “mussulah,” or surf-boats.  Among the number was one noble-looking man, who stepped up near to our captain and, addressing him, said, “How do you do, Captain Mackintosh?”

“How do you know my name is Mackintosh?”

“By your voice, sahib.  When you were here in the ‘Lady Mary Harrison,’ eighteen years ago, I was your dubash.”

This was quite correct.  This man recognized the captain’s voice after all these years.