Has Something So Frank And Honest In His Face And Bearing,
That I Am Certain He Will Turn Out
A pleasant companion.
There being no hatred so intense as that which you feel
towards a disagreeable shipmate, this assurance
relieved me of a great anxiety, and I already feel I
shall hereafter reckon Sigurdr (pronounced Segurthur),
the son of Jonas, among the number of my best friends.
As most educated English people firmly believe the
Icelanders to be a "Squawmuck," blubber-eating,
seal-skin-clad race, I think it right to tell you that
Sigurdr is apparelled in good broadcloth, and all the
inconveniences of civilization, his costume culminating
in the orthodox chimney-pot of the nineteenth century.
He is about twenty-seven, very intelligent-looking,
and - all women would think - lovely to behold. A high
forehead, straight, delicate features, dark blue eyes,
auburn hair and beard, and the complexion of - Lady S - d!
His early life was passed in Iceland; but he is now
residing at Copenhagen as a law student. Through the
introduction of a mutual friend, he has been induced to
come with me, and do us the honours of his native land.
"O whar will I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this gude ship o' mine?'
Such, alas! has been the burden of my song for these last
four-and-twenty hours, as I have sat in the Tontine Tower,
drinking the bad port wine, for, after spending a fortune
in telegraphic messages to Holyhead, it has been decided
that B - cannot come on, and I have been forced to rig up
a Glasgow merchant skipper into a jury sailing-master.
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