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āđāļ§āđāļ āđāļĨāđāļ āļĄāļ§āļĒ "Time enough, sir, if you are going on board of the Vernon, and I will give you one of my oars if I don't put you on her deck," said the boatman very positively. "I hope you are nimble with your feet and hands, sir." "Who's there?" demanded Christy Passford, sitting up in his bed, in the middle of the night, in his room on the second floor of his father's palatial mansion on the Hudson, where the young lieutenant was waiting for a passage to the Gulf. "I was in New York, preparing to come on board of the Vernon." "I suppose it is the righteousness of the cause in particular that calls forth your admiration," chuckled Christy. "I won't do so any more, Captain Passford," protested the steward, showing his ivory, though he was not a very black man, and the contrast was not as great as in many instances.