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Security of life in an Indian's bark canoe, even when going over river rapids, would seem assured, compared to the chances against one being able to keep his feet on a Brazilian catamaran sailing on the broad ocean. Men stand on two logs tied together, these about a foot each in diameter and from eight to ten feet in length, the upper side flat, with a small pole fastened in one of the logs, to which is secured a piece of canvas—as flimsy a sample of sea craft as one may see in a lifetime. No provision being made for a seat on the shaky and risky "boat"—no room for one, in fact—it seemed dangerous to sail it even on a small lake; yet a number of these were seen skimming over the sea several miles outside the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil.

We had reached South America at the beginning of March, which is Northern August south of the equator. The winter season of the year in the northern is the summer in the southern division of the world.

Passengers leaving the vessel entered a large basket by a door. When six persons had got inside, the winches on the ship began to revolve, raising the basket high enough to clear the deck rail, and the passengers were slowly lowered to a lighter below. Chug! They had reached the bottom, and if any of the travelers had their tongue between their teeth at that moment it would be safe to infer that that member had suffered from the bump. This carrier was six feet deep, made of reed or wicker, and was kept in shape and supported by circular iron bands, like the hoops round a barrel, which, in this case, were inside the basket. Passengers embark by the same means. Crude and odd devices of this sort lend spice to travel.

Bahia, the oldest city in Brazil, was the next stop. At this port no basket was used for disembarking, passengers leaving the ship by a side ladder and being taken ashore in launches. An unusual number of men seemed to board the vessel, and later, when the gong sounded for visitors to go ashore, most of them left with their pockets bulging with goods bought aboard. Pertaining to this, an amusing feature came to light—the custom officers, who had been stationed at the gangway and other parts of the ship to prevent smuggling, seemingly not noticing the difference in the girth of a man on leaving the vessel to that when he boarded her.

Sailing on the same smooth sea on which we had started from Madeira Island ten days before, Rio de Janeiro, the capital and metropolis of Brazil, was reached later.

The harbor of this city is considered the finest in the world. The noted haven is entered by a deep channel, three-quarters of a mile wide, flanked by two imposing stone mountains, rising nearly 1,300 and 1,100 feet, respectively. Tropical vegetation grows luxuriantly on the shores, and beyond a circle of high, evergreen mountains offer an unusually fascinating foreground. The harbor is sixteen miles long and from two to seven miles wide, this area being dotted with over a hundred islands, also heavily verdured with a tropical growth. One feature, however, robs Rio de Janeiro and her harbor of a scenic climax. To the left, on which side of the bay the city stands, rise low hills, which shut from view, until opposite the wharves, what otherwise would reveal a panorama of the metropolis in keeping with that of the fame of the harbor. One is at a loss to account for the absence of docks here, considering this city has a population of nearly a million inhabitants and is the commercial center of Brazil.

Before, and also after, the ship anchored in the bay, where a large number of passengers left, the deafening noise made by hack barkers and hotel runners, shouting from boats below, exceeded anything of this nature heard elsewhere. Here it was a medley of whistles on yachts, launches and similar craft, together with blasts from horns, a racket from other noise-making devices, and the raucous voices of fruit vendors, crying their wares from rowboats. For a quarter of a mile about the vessel hundreds of small craft were bumping into each other, their owners cursing and shouting at those in approaching boats who sought a more advantageous place where a fare might come their way; in no place in the world, one would feel safe in saying, could there be more turmoil and confusion under similar circumstances. No one seemed to be in charge; every one was bending his every effort for a fare. Evidently a great deal of revenue would be cut off from a considerable number of the population of Rio were the government to build docks.

Having read of cholera in Rio years before would lead one to entertain a belief that he is entering an unclean city, and the great number of blacks and half-castes one sees before he gets off the ship suggests nothing to the contrary. But, when in the city proper, what a surprise one meets with. No place is better supplied with small parks than this metropolis, and public conveniences and sanitation in general, which are so essential to the physical welfare of a people, are creditable features. To be sure, the old part is of Spanish style—brick and cement houses, with narrow streets. The object in building narrow streets is to foil the sun—to keep cool—as the narrower they are the more shade is cast. One will soon notice the difference in comfort when walking between narrow or wide streets in hot climates—the narrow, shady ones will be given the preference. Only one vehicle can travel in a street, and for this reason traffic passes through one and returns by another. They are one-way streets. Two persons moving in opposite directions can just manage to pass without one of them stepping off the walk. Rio de Janeiro is the second largest city in South America, and good management of this tropical center was in evidence.

Looking down Avenue Central, one of the principal thoroughfares, composed largely of business buildings, a scene of architectural beauty is revealed rivaling any metropolis in the world. No street cars run on this avenue, but brightly painted, well designed, small motor 'buses are in use. The artistic effect reflected by the arrangement of lights and trees is in keeping in every detail with the admirable designs of the buildings on each side. A municipal theater on this street, prominent by its striking exterior ornamentation, together with handsome government buildings, add greatly to the attractiveness of Avenue Central. To an American the street view at the head not only equals the lower portion, but is enhanced, for there stands the Monroe Palace, a memorial to James Monroe, whose name is immortalized as the father of the Monroe Doctrine, serving as a fitting cap-sheaf, and at the same time infusing patriotic sentiment to the harmonious foreground and attractive environments. From Monroe Palace, which is shaded by trees growing in a beautiful park at the side, Avenue Central verges into a long boulevard, built alongside the walled harbor, fringed in places with rows of palm trees, fifty to sixty feet high; under tropical verdured hills, with parks, flowers and shade trees bordering the thoroughfare to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.

This palm tree of Rio is the highest we have seen either of nut-bearing or non-nut-bearing species. The trunks are smooth, straight and round, free of limbs, and gradually taper to their full height, where a circle of fronds branch broadly from every side. Standing between these tropical, sentinel-like columns, high above the spectator will be seen an arch formed of long, broad leaves. As some of these double rows of palms extend for considerable distances, this light-green archway grows more enchanting as, down the pillared vista, the fringed-frond arcade gradually lowers and contracts until the trees converge into a narrow bower. The symmetrical finish to the towering palms of Rio will remain in one's mind long after other of Nature's masterpieces, of equal merit but differing in form, will have been forgotten.

American money and enterprise have added much to the modern public utilities of Rio, for the street car and lighting systems are headed by Americans. "Bond" is the name for street cars here. To raise capital to construct the system bonds were issued, and as the word bond was much used before construction began, the Brazilians, when the cars started running, called them "bonds."

The Portuguese language is used in the Brazilian republic. But what a mixed population these Brazilians are! Most of them are dark-skinned and the greater number are black. From observation, there seems to be little or no distinction between the races. Yet this race possesses a knowledge rarely displayed by others in erecting buildings suited in every respect for business purposes, and in giving them an artistic finish at the same time. Immigrants from many countries have settled in this republic during the last decade.

European customs are strongly in evidence, the most noticeable being lounging about cafés. The habit of living on the sidewalk and in the street outside of cafés is the same here as that which strikes one as being strange on his first visit to Paris and other places in Continental Europe. One often has to maneuver his way through little iron-legged tables and chairs, used for refreshments. Some of the patrons are seen sipping black coffee from cups no larger than half an eggshell; others may be found drinking vari-colored liquids, of which there is a great variety, and many will have cigarettes between their lips or between their fingers. Still one cannot fail to note the improvement these cafés are on the American saloon. There are no back door entrances to these places; no front doors closed; no curtains—everything open and above board. And, as with Europeans, seldom is a person seen intoxicated or disorderly. Prosperity is suggested by crowded cafés, for refreshments in Rio are expensive.

Women seem to have an easy time in Brazil, in the capital, at least, for men are seen looking after rooms in hotels, sweeping, dusting—doing general housework.

Two meals a day seem to be all the Brazilians desire. A cup of coffee is taken early in the morning, as the regular time for breakfast is from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Dinner is served from 5 to 7:30 o'clock in the evening.

Everything one buys in the Brazilian metropolis is expensive. Manufactures are few—almost everything is imported, and the customs duty is exorbitant. Street car fare, even, is double that charged in most large cities. Small articles costing from ten to fifteen cents in the United States cost a milrei in Rio. Very few things can be had for less than 33 cents. Soda water and other soft drinks generally cost from 9 to 12 cents.

The Portuguese money system—reis and milreis—is that of Brazil. The value of a milrei in American money is 33 cents, and a rei is equal to one-thirtieth of a cent. In financial figures the dollar mark is used to denote milreis, but is placed between the figures instead of in front—thus: 10$000. Money is on the decimal system, 1,000 reis making a milrei.

One unaccustomed to Portuguese money is apt to feel perplexed when presented with a bill for 50 cents. This is how a 50 cent dinner bill would look: 1$500. The figure 1 represents a milrei—33 cents—and the 500 is 500 reis—half a milrei—16½ cents. One hundred reis is three cents in American money. Only among the poorer class are coins of less than 100 reis in use. Paper bills are used for a milrei and larger sums. The coins are mostly of nickel.

At São Paulo, over three hundred miles from Rio, woolen and cotton mills have been established, and so far have proved a good investment. English money is represented in this industry. American money and machinery figure largely in the development of the ore mines of that large country, so with English capital erecting mills and American money opening and developing mines business development is assured. Brazil produces three-quarters of the world's annual consumption of coffee. Rubber is another staple product of this republic.

The tropical scenery about Rio adds much to the attractiveness of the capital of Brazil. High hills and mountains almost circle both the harbor and city, and from these elevated points one looks down through a dense growth of trees bearing flowers, large blooming vines, wide-leaved palms, and clumps of high, swaying bamboo—an expansive botanical garden—on to the thousands of gray houses, with their red-tiled roofs. Similar scenes and objects, attractive when viewed from less favored vistas, seen through a tropical foreground, assume an enchanted charm.

Though very little English printing is done here, a number of good Portuguese daily newspapers are published, the offices being equipped with linotype machines, web presses and stereotyping machinery. The wages paid workers in this trade range from $25 to $30 a week. As there is little manufacturing in Brazil, and the tariff is so exorbitant on imports, together with high dwelling rentals, $30 a week would not be considered good wages in America under such conditions.

One seldom sees a Brazilian carrying bundles in his hands—such as valises, etc. The people who make their living at that sort of work carry a strap with them, which is thrown over the shoulder. If two valises are to be borne, one is placed in front and the other at the back, each fastened to the end of the strap.

Church bells here, as in the City of Mexico, are ringing in most parts of the city all the time.

As a rule good photographs exaggerate and flatter objects, but when looking at a picture associated with Rio de Janeiro, no matter how pretty and artistic it may appear, one should not discount the picture as being overdrawn, for Rio would very likely carry away the honors if entered in a "beautiful city" exhibit.

At Santos, another coffee mart of Brazil, enterprise was in evidence when our ship drew up to a dock. This was the first dock the ship pulled alongside of since leaving Southampton, England. Santos is also the port for São Paulo. From this place we continue southward.

Twelve hundred miles south of Rio, Montevideo, Uruguay, is located at the delta of the River Plate. This city is the capital of Uruguay. Most of the ships head for the River Plate, and a great many sailing southward and through the Straits of Magellan stop at this port, allowing passengers time to look about the city. The River Plate (La Plata in Spanish) spreads out at this point to a width of a hundred miles. A great number of vessels sail up the Plate from time to time, and it ranks high in the list of waterways of the world.

A glimpse of Montevideo revealed but little difference in architecture to that of the Spanish style—brick and mortar. Most of the dwelling houses are but one story in height, the outside steps and stairways, however, being of white marble, which gives the building a strikingly clean appearance.

More than one night in this city is required to become used to the noise made by mouth whistles before a light sleeper can rest. These are blown by the police, who keep in touch with each other by this means.

A striking feature of Montevideo to one who has been in Brazil is the large size of the Uruguayan. Deep-chested, broad-shouldered and of good height, he appears to possess double the strength of the Brazilian. While the people are of dark complexion, no blacks are seen.

The money unit of Uruguay is higher than that of any country in the world. It is known as the dollar, and its value is $1.04.

Uruguay is a republic, its principal industry being agriculture and stock raising. Flattering inducements are offered by that government to immigrants who intend to make their home there. These are in the nature of giving land to homeseekers, the government even promising to stock the farms with cattle.

How little some of us who pay but passing attention to sea commerce know of the tremendous volume of business carried over the world in vessels, and the long runs made. At Rio de Janeiro I left the ship that I sailed on from Southampton, England, and after several weeks' stay in the Brazilian capital continued my journey southward by another line, tickets being interchangeable. The ship from Rio that landed Argentine passengers at Montevideo proceeded southward to and through the Straits of Magellan, to Valparaiso, Chile; up the Pacific coast as far as Callao, the port for Lima, Peru, stopping at several places between, distributing passengers and cargo at each. From among the passengers Brazil, Uruguay, Argentine, Chile, Paraguay, Bolivia and Peru received its quota. From England to Callao six weeks' time was required to make the voyage. The manner in which these merchantmen slip in and out of bays, deep and shallow harbors, crawl up rivers and down again—into commercial nooks of every character—reminds one of the unexpected places to which the sun so often finds its way. Passengers from Great Britain seemed to be in the majority of those traveling south of the equator. A greater number of men than women are always to be found, though almost every ship carries young women who will be on their way to meet and marry their fiancés located in the interior of the South American republics.

Buenos Aires, capital of the Argentine republic, the New York of South America, is located 124 miles up the River Plate. Many entertain the opinion, gathered from newspaper accounts, that, 6,000 miles south of New York, there is a good-sized city—Buenos Aires. But what a difference there is between reading about something and seeing it! It is said of a visitor that "a look at New York will knock his eye out," and to travel through the busy waterway of the big harbor of this South American metropolis, and look through the dense thicket of masts, spars, shrouds, ropes, pennants, flags and many-colored funnels from ships that stretch for miles about the outer and inner harbors, will surely cause one's eye to bulge with astonishment. Such an influx of merchantmen visit this city at certain periods of the year that, for as long as three and four weeks, ships loll at anchor in the outer harbor before dock room can be made for unloading their cargoes. The dock system is good; and one may gather an idea of the harbor space available when he learns the River Plate is thirty-five miles wide at Buenos Aires. Up to the interior of South America ships ply for 1,000 miles on the Plate to the Bolivian border, going up loaded and sailing away to sundry parts of the world with cargoes submerging the vessels to their water lines. It seemed that every ship sailing south of the equator on the western side of the Atlantic Ocean was headed for the River Plate or for other coast ports of the Argentine.

A more intimate acquaintance with matters will reveal a Briton at the helm of those ships of industry or the hidden power behind the scene. Every passenger ship leaving a British port for the River Plate carries brain and brawn from Great Britain. English money figures prominently in the industrial advancement of the Argentine, upward of a billion dollars having been expended in building railways and developing the lands. The flower of Great Britain will be found engaged at farming, connected with shipping, railroads, banking, or other pursuits; and English advice on governmental legislation is often sought.

In Buenos Aires one finds a busy city of nearly a million and three-quarters of people, largely of a cosmopolitan character. Sixteen big, well-printed daily newspapers of evening and morning editions are published in this commercial center. Besides the native, or Spanish language, are those printed in the French, Italian, English, Swedish and other languages. The wages paid artisans engaged in this industry do not compare with those paid in the United States. The highest paid for newspaper work is $3.50 a day, but $2.50 is the general daily wage, paid monthly. Working time is seven and eight hours a day. On the other hand, living expenses are higher than in American cities. House rent is very high, and the price of food in ordinary restaurants is as high, and generally higher, than that charged in similar grade eating places in American cities. Anent cheap living in other countries, about which one hears so much in the United States, I have come to look upon such alleged facts as mythical, for, speaking generally, I have yet to come across them, and my unsuccessful search for these "much-cheaper" places has not been from lack of effort.

The Argentine silver dollar is about the same value as the Mexican dollar—44 cents. Another dollar is in use, however, pertaining to shipping, customs charges and government tariff of a general nature, known as the gold dollar, and is worth 96 cents. But it is the 44-cent dollar that is in general use for retail purposes, wages, etc.

The great number of street cars running through and about the city is in keeping with the large number of ships seen in the harbor. There are only two streets in the business district—and for a considerable distance beyond—on which street cars do not run. Any one who has lived in busy centers will naturally glance about when crossing streets, to see if the way is clear. But in Buenos Aires one must be on the alert for street cars even when walking along walks between the crossings. The Spanish system of laying out a town—narrow streets—is the rule in Buenos Aires, in the older section of the city. To build street car lines in the center of the streets would shut off vehicular traffic to a great extent, as there is not room for a truck and car to pass between the car line and the curb at the same time. The car tracks, therefore, are laid at the side of the street, by which plan car and vehicular traffic have room to move together, but only in one direction. To make matters worse, a "trailer," or two cars, are in use on many of the lines. A sidewalk fender is secured to the rear platform of the front car and to the forward platform of the "trailer." This device is formed of strips of steel, bowed half-barrel shape, which extends over the walk, and is attached to prevent pedestrians from falling between the cars. The walks also are proportionately narrow, affording room for only two persons to pass at the same time. Were a person to become thoughtless or one's mind be occupied with something foreign to street traffic, while walking at the outer edge of the walk, or when stepping to one side to allow another to pass, the half-barrel shaped steel-strip fender is apt to scrape his leg. Being fearful of coming in contact with the fender at any moment when walking the streets prompts one to frequently look behind.

Ten cents (Argentine money) is the fare, equaling four cents in American money. That sum will carry a passenger from one end of a car line to the other. By reason of the narrow streets, the two-car system, and the great number of cars running on the different lines, tie-ups, turmoil and confusion result. On boarding a car, there is no telling when one will reach his destination. Improvements, however, were in progress.

Among the park squares of Buenos Aires (termed "plazas" in Latin-speaking countries), Plaza de Mayo is perhaps the most popular, and the first laid out in the Southern metropolis. This plaza is located at one side of the business center of the city, with government buildings, hotels, a cathedral, and business houses fronting the four sides. Attractive palms adorn this pretty resting place, together with trees, shrubbery, flowers all the year round, lawns and good walks. Historical memories, dear to the Argentinian, however, prove of greater interest to the populace than that wrought by the landscape gardener, as in this section of the city in early days a decisive battle was fought with Britishers. At one side of the square stands a memorial shaft that marks the place of surrender to native forces by the invaders early in the nineteenth century. Within the city limits are six parks, a number of promenades, thirty-eight squares, and many public gardens.

Avenida de Mayo is the promenade and show section of Buenos Aires. Starting at Plaza de Mayo, it extends for nearly a mile to Congreso, or Congress Hall. The Avenida is one of the two streets on which cars do not run, and is the only one of fair width in the busy center of the city. It is paved with asphalt, most of the others being paved with stone blocks. The best hotels line the Avenida, and the other buildings are of attractive appearance. Prizes are offered by the city for the best building designs, and the result of this municipal pride is frequently observed. Through the Continental custom of blocking the sidewalks in front of hotels and cafés with tables and chairs one often finds difficulty in walking. The park system of the city is creditable, and there are good boulevards in the suburbs.

Here, too, as in Rio de Janeiro, one wonders what women do to occupy their time, as men make the beds, do the dusting, look after rooms, sweep the carpets, and do general household duties one is so accustomed to seeing women perform in North America. Neither is there any chance for a woman to earn her living working in eating places, as men seem to have made that source of livelihood a "closed shop" to women.

Plaza de Mayo (top) and Avenida de Mayo (bottom).

Buenos Aires, Argentine.

The clumsy way the Argentinian hitches horses to a cart strikes one as odd. Carts, instead of trucks, are mostly in use. Often three or four horses will be attached to a cart—one horse between the shafts, and one hitched to the cart on each side of the shaft horse. The horse in the lead will precede the second horse by a space of from three to five feet, and the second horse will be in advance of the shaft horse the same distance. How the animals can see is a puzzle, for a heavy leather fringe reaches from the top of the horse's head to the nose.

To see men embracing each other, with radiant faces, strikes one from the North as an unusual custom. While Americans greet with a handshake, Argentinians embrace.

A novel way to keep "park residents" from occupying seats in some of the park squares is amusing. The park workers keep moving the seats from shade to sun, and in the evening and on cloudy days the "never-works" are told to "move on." But the idlers enjoy sweet revenge from the fact that no one else has a chance to sit in the shade in the daytime.

It is hard on one who has been used to three meals a day to practice the principle of the old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do," for only two meals a day are served. Of course, one gets coffee and rolls for breakfast, but more than that brief menu is unknown to the Argentinian. The noontime meal is called breakfast, and dinner is served about 7 o'clock.

Olives, potato chips, peanuts and cigarettes are accessories that go with refreshments at the "sidewalk dining-rooms" in Buenos Aires. People may be seen for hours taking sips of liquid from small glasses, then a potato chip will be snapped in two parts; next a few puffs of a cigarette; another sip; a peanut shell is then cracked and a kernel eaten; another sip of liquid; next an olive; more cigarette puffs, and so on.

Churches and church holidays being numerous, banks are closed on these occasions for four or five days. What is known as "the American Church" attracts many of the English-speaking people of that city.

In addition to the Argentine being a grain and cattle country, fruit trees and grapevines bear heavy yields. Fig and peach trees, which are numerous, yield abundant good fruit, and some bunches of grapes will half fill a water bucket.

Gentility is denoted in the Argentine by a long little fingernail. A fingernail could not grow from one to two inches long on the hand of one engaged in daily toil, for it would break off. Hence a man with a long fingernail is included in the list of "retired" citizens.

The dwelling houses and buildings of all sorts are substantially built. Brick is generally used, and this is covered with several inches of cement. A courtyard is a feature of all buildings, with a veranda around, and more rooms open on the court than on the street. Strong iron bars protect the windows in a great many instances, while the street doors are very heavy and the locks big and strong. Most of the dwelling houses are one and two stories in height, but some of the hotel and business buildings are from three to seven stories high. The higher buildings are of steel frame construction, which is known as "the American system."

One will find splendid stores, with goods attractively displayed in large, wide windows. Church buildings are numerous, and some of the government buildings large and imposing. Several of the newspapers are large, newsy and well printed. Linotype machines, web presses—all the modern machinery in use in the North—will be found in the emporium of South America.

Portuguese is the language of Brazil, Spanish of the Argentine, and any one going to these countries to transact business without first acquiring an inkling of these languages will find himself at a great disadvantage. The foreigner who can speak both languages will succeed much better than the person who sticks to his native tongue.

The pickpocket of Buenos Aires is said to be as deft at his trade as are his clever colleagues in the City of Mexico. The great number of thieves here may be the reason for the presence of bars in front of windows, heavy doors and strong locks on buildings.

I had work offered to me at my trade in that city, but one who had been used to receiving $5 a day does not relish working for $3 a day for the same duties. Besides, just then the surface of my funds had been scarcely scratched.

I stopped at a boarding house, paying $2 a day for my keep, occupying a small room next to the roof, with the only window a little larger than the port hole of a ship. It behooved one to be promptly in his seat at the table at mealtime, in order to prevent remonstrance that would justifiably be made by the inner man until the next meal if the rules of strict punctuality were not conformed to.

One notices an improvement in the condition of the working people in both Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires over that seen in Lisbon. Poverty is not a feature of either city, more particularly in Buenos Aires.

My fare from New York to Buenos Aires was $150, and the distance traveled was 9,852 miles. From New York direct to Buenos Aires is some 6,000 miles, and the fare, third-class, $90, first-class, $240, there being no second-class rate. Third-class travel is generally unsatisfactory, and a first-class ticket would have cost more than I cared to spend on the first leg of my journey. It was a 26-day sail from Southampton to Buenos Aires.

From Buenos Aires direct across to Capetown, South Africa, is 3,600 miles; by way of Madeira 9,500 miles, and second-class fare $250. This large sum of money for a ticket set me inquiring if there was no other way to get to South Africa without traveling nearly half the distance around the world. A tramp ship going to Asia and stopping at Durban, South Africa, for bunker coal was one's only hope of avoiding the long and tedious journey by way of Madeira and the big expense. Four different captains who had received orders to sail to India did not want to take a passenger with them, giving as their reason that "it was against the Act" for tramp ships to carry travelers. The fifth captain seen, however, agreed to take me across to Durban for $50. Here was a saving of $200.

That being my first introduction to tramp ship travel, I faced the voyage with some mistrust, as merchantmen, as a rule, are slow, are not equipped with wireless telegraphy appliances, and one does not know what may happen when sailing on the high seas. But the captain had a good face, which inspired me with confidence.

"Meet me at the British Consul's office to-morrow morning at 10 o'clock," the captain instructed, "for you'll have to ship as an 'A. B.' (able-bodied seaman), as the 'Act' does not allow us to carry passengers." "Aye, aye, sir," in sailor style, was my answer to his instructions.

"How much are you going to pay this man?" asked the consul. "Ten shillings ($2.40) a month," answered the captain. "A pretty cheap 'A. B.'" sagely remarked the consul.

"The ship is the one with a red funnel, having a yellow circle around it close to the top. Bertha Clay is her name. Be aboard at 3 o'clock at the latest, as we shall sail between 3 and 4," was the final instruction by the captain.

"You found her all right?" the skipper remarked, when he had come aboard his ship. A cargo of coal had just been unloaded, and the dust was an inch deep on the deck.

Later a long blast from the whistle was blown, and in a short time a rope from a tug had been fastened to the Bertha Clay, when she was slowly drawn from the dock into the narrow channel, which was solidly walled by ships. We had started for "Darkest Africa."