On one point we still felt anxious--our home letters; so Dennis wrote to the post-master at Halifax, and arranged for them to be forwarded to us at the post-office, Georgetown, Demerara.

For Alfonso was right, we were bound for British Guiana, it being however understood that we three were not under obligation to make the return voyage in the _Water-Lily_.
An odd incident occurred during our brief stay in New York.

It was after the interview in which we came to terms with the captain, and he had given us leave for three hours ashore.

You can't see very much of a city when you have no money to spend in it; but we had walked about till we were very hungry, and yet more thirsty, for it was hot, when we all three caught sight of a small shop (or store, as Americans would call it), and we all spoke at once.
"Cooling drinks!" exclaimed Dennis.
"There's cakes yonder," said Alister.
"Michael Macartney," muttered I, for that was the name over the door.
We went in as a customer came out, followed by Michael Macartney's parting words in a rich brogue that might have been old Biddy's own.

I took a good look at him, which he returned with a civil comment on the heat, and an inquiry as to what I would take, which Dennis, in the thirstiness of his throat, answered for me, leaving me a few moments more of observation.