The steamer Ben Franklin—it was many years ago, reader—was just on the point of leaving her dock at Providence, when a slender, pale young man, with sandy whiskers and green eyes, who had just safely stowed away his valise, honorably paid his fare, and purchased a supper ticket, and now stood on the upper deck, leaning on his blue cotton umbrella in a mild attitude of contemplation, was accosted by a benevolent-looking old gentleman, in gold-bowed spectacles, upon whose left arm hung a feminine, in a bright mazarine blue broadcloth travelling habit, with a gold watch at her waist, and a green veil over her face, with the (to a timid young man) startling question of,—
"Pray, sir, will you be so kind as to take charge of a lady?"
The slender young man with the blue cotton umbrella blushed up to the roots of his sandy hair, but he bowed deeply and affirmatively.
"We were disappointed in not meeting a friend, sir," continued the benevolent-looking old gentleman, "and so I had to trust to chance for finding an escort to Fanny. Only as far as New York, sir; my daughter will give you very little trouble. She's a strong-minded, independent woman, sir, and abundantly able to take care of herself; but I don't like the idea of ladies travelling alone. If the boat sinks, sir, she's abundantly able to swim ashore. Good by, Fanny."
"Father," said the lady in the blue habit, in a deep and mellow baritone,—rather a queer voice for a woman, though,—"a parting salute!" She threw back her veil, displaying a pair of piercing black eyes, kissed the paternal cheek, veiled the black eyes a moment with a lace-bordered handkerchief, as her sire descended the gang plank,—his exit being deprived of dignity by the sudden withdrawal of the board,—and then placed her arm within that of the sandy-haired young gentleman, and began walking him up and down the promenade deck.
"Isn't this delightful?" said she. "O, what can exceed the pleasure of travelling, when one has a sympathizing friend as a companion!" And she rather pressed the arm of her companion. She was strong-handed as well as strong-minded.
Mr. Brown, for that was the name of the timid young gentleman with the sandy hair and the blue cotton umbrella, was not particularly susceptible, for he had already lost his heart to a sandy-haired young lady, who resided in New York; and, besides, he didn't like strong-minded women; so he asked, very unromantically, but sensibly, if the happy parent of the lady in the blue habit had purchased her a ticket.
"I believe—I am certain that he did not," was the reply. "Father is so forgetful!"
"I'll do it myself then, ma'am—if you'll excuse me a moment. What name?"
"Brown," said the lady.