"I was forty-two yesterday; and in a year from yesterday, I shall be forty-three, if I don't die of old age before that time," replied Christy, looking the other full in the face, and with as serious an expression as he could command.

"Forty-two! You are chaffing me. Didn't you come from that steamer over there?" demanded the young man, pointing at the Bellevite again.

"No, sir. I came from China, from a place they call Shensibangerwhang. Were you ever there?"

"I never was there, and I question if you were ever there."

"Do you mean to question my veracity?" demanded Christy, knitting his brow.

"Oh, no, not at all!"

"Very well; and when you go to Shensibangerwhang, I shall be glad to see you; and then I will endeavor to answer all the questions you desire to ask."

"I thought you came from that steamer over there."

"Thought made a world, but it wasn't your thought that did it."

"Of course you know the name of that steamer."

"Oh, now I think of her name! That is the Chicherwitherwing, and she belongs to the Chinese navy. She is sent out on a voyage of discovery to find the north pole, which she expects to reach here in the West Indies. When she finds it, I will let you know by mail, if you will give me your address," rattled Christy with abundant self-possession.

"No, no, now! You are chaffing me."

"Do you know, brother mortal of mine, that I suspect you are a Yankee; for they say they live on baked beans, and earn the money to buy the pork for them by asking questions."

"I am not a Yankee; I am a long way from that."

"Then perhaps you sympathize with the meridonial section of the nation on the other side of the Gulf Stream."

"Which section?" asked the stranger, looking a little puzzled.

"The meridonial section."

"Which is that? I don't know which meridian you mean."

"I mean no meridian. Perhaps the word is a little irregular; I studied French when I was in the Bangerwhangerlang College in China, and I am sometimes apt to get that language mixed up with some other. Let me see, we were speaking just now, were we not?"

"I was."

"Sometimes I can't speak any English, and I had forgotten about it. If you prefer to carry on this conversation in Hebrew or Hindostanee, I shall not object," added Christy gravely.

"I think I can do better with English."

"Have your own way about it; but 'meridonial' in French means 'southern,' if you will excuse me for making the suggestion."

"Then I am meridonial," replied the stranger, and he seemed to make the admission under the influence of a sudden impulse.