OUR LIBERAL PASSENGERS.
"Where are we now, Alick, my boy?" asked my cousin Owen Garningham, as he came on deck after we had anchored off the pier.
"We are at St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States, founded by the Spaniards in 1565----"
"Cut it short, if you please, my affectionate cousin," interposed Owen, with an affected yawn. "I haven't been to breakfast yet; and surely you don't expect me to learn history so early in the morning. I simply asked you where we were, and you go back over three hundred years to answer the question."
"I thought you might want to know something about the place," I replied.
"Exactly so. Where are we?"
"We are here."
Owen bit his lip, smiled, and then looked about him at the various objects in sight.
"If you will tell me exactly what you want to know, I will answer your questions; at least, I will tell you all I know," I added.
"Don't do that: it would take too long," he replied, yawning again.