'Adventurer' -- he that goes out to meet whatever may come.

Well, that is what we all do in the world one way or another, and, speaking for myself, I am proud of the title, because it implies a brave heart and a trust in Providence.
Besides, when many and many a noted Croesus, at whose feet the people worship, and many and many a time-serving and word-coining politician are forgotten, the names of those grand-hearted old adventurers who have made England what she is, will be remembered and taught with love and pride to little children whose unshaped spirits yet slumber in the womb of centuries to be.

Not that we three can expect to be numbered with such as these, yet have we done something -- enough, perhaps, to throw a garment over the nakedness of our folly.
That evening, whilst we were sitting on the veranda, smoking a pipe before turning in, who should come up to us but Alphonse, and, with a magnificent bow, announce his wish for an interview.
Being requested to 'fire away', he explained at some length that he was anxious to attach himself to our party -- a statement that astonished me not a little, knowing what a coward the little man was.

The reason, however, soon appeared.

Mr Mackenzie was going down to the coast, and thence on to England.