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He was fond of the ladies. It often amused us to see him dancing attendance on a maid who minced along in brocade or taffeta, with her skirts ballooning from the hoops underneath, with bright-colored shoes peeping out from beneath her skirts, and with an enormous plume in her big bonnet that waved towards the commodore's cocked hat. The hooped skirts seemed to be trying to keep her escort at a distance, while he struggled manfully to pour his words into her ear.

Murad was still hovering around us. Evidently anxious to appease the commodore, he had begun to talk to him on sea topics. The commodore, in turn, started to draw out the Egyptian as to opportunities American shippers might have to sell cargoes of American goods to Mediterranean cities.

"In Barbary, Egypt and beyond," said Murad, "will lie your country's chief market. The ports of the Mediterranean are eager for your goods. Lads like these——" he fixed glowing eyes on Alexander and myself—"will live to make their fortunes in the Mediterranean."