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mention, that he levelled his trident at our horseshoe, and cut it in twain. Still the horse-shoe adhered to the mast, and Neptune, with some confusion, committed himself and his family again to the deep.

Βήδ ελάαν επι κύματ&c.

He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies,
He sits superior, and the chariot Aies :
His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep :
Th’ enormous monsters rolling o'er the deep,
Gambol around him on the watery way ;
And heavy whales in awkward measures play:
The sea subsiding spreads a level plain,
Exults and crowns the monarch of the main :
The parting waves before his coursers fly;
The wond'ring waters leave his axle dry.



“ Whereas a number of book-wrights by trade, “ have undertaken, without being qualified for the

task, to introduce into their pages the charac“ ters of sailors, and instead of exhibiting my legi“timate children, have produced a bastard race ; “ I do hereby declare, that the time of impunity is “ at an end ;—and that henceforth should any “ man who has never been out of soundings, or “ never beheld blue water, repeat the offence,66 I will strike the timber-head of his skull a blow “ with my trident, that shall dispatch his soul to “ the deepest receptacle of Davy Jones' Locker, “ whose bottom no deep-sea-lead line could ever

Signed, NEPTUNE.

(6 Latitude 440 35' North. (True Copy.) Longitude 51° 19'West.”

yet reach.

They on board the good ship Olive who were fond of fish, indulged the hope, that on the Banks of Newfoundland they would only have to let down their hooks and lines into the sea, and pull up a multitude of fishes. They, however, toiled all night and caught no fish. In fact, I believe they swore too much to catch any.

A favourable gale wafted us over the Banks; a gale so fair that we knew not on which side to carry our spanker-boom. Several of our ship's company were Englishmen, and these Englishmen had all of them mistresses at Cowes. This circumstance conspired with the breeze, to carry us over the Bank with the rapidity of lightning. For the damsels at Cowes, impatient of the coming of the Olive, had taken hold of a tow-rope which we had thrown to them for the purpose ; and they Were now pulling our ship towards Cowes hand over hand.

Mr. Adams, though an American, was familiar with Cowes, and, from what I could infer by his actions, had, like a true sailor, found a mistress in a foreign port. To him a calm would have been more dreadful than a gale of wind in which he should have had to strike yards and topmasts. He would carry sail till all was blue again. I

often found the good ship Olive in his watch, with all the canvass she had on board expanded to the breeze. There were studding-sails set aloft and alow ; royals, sky-scrapers, and moonrakers ; driver and ring-tail ; flying jib, and jib of jibs. When I remonstrated with Mr. Adams against carrying so much sai), his reply was, “ If “ the ship won't carry it, why, d-n her, let her “ drag it."

I remember at this juncture the steward was sent upon deck by the passengers to make an inquiry relative to the ship and her course, the wind and the weather.

Steward.If you please, Mr. Adams, will you inform the passengers what course the ship is steering.

Mr. Adams.-North and by South, tell them.

Steward.—They want to know too, Sir, how the wind is.

Mr. Adams.The wind is East, and it is coming more round to the castward.

Steward.—Is there any sail, Sir, in sight.
Mr. Adams.-Yes, there's a sail ahead.

This intelligence was conveyed by the steward to the passengers; and in a few minutes every one who had strength left to crawl up the ladder, came eagerly to behold the sail. They saw a sail indeed. It was a sail belonging to the good ship Olive. It was the jib.

Mr. Adanıs, said I, you carry a vast deal of sail.


Is there any fair damsel at Cowes whom you long to behold ?

Mr. Adams.--My girl lives at Bristol. Was you ever at Bristol?

Passenger.-What Bristol ? Bristol in America, or Bristol in England?

Mr. Adams.Bristol in England. There's a busk of old Davy Jones in one of the streets. I'll be d—d if it is not exactly like him. 'Tis the larboard side as you steer for Bath. The old fellow looms like Beachy Head in a fog. But I wonder the girls at Bristol don't take passage for America.


Mr. Adams.-Why one night I took a sweep of sixty, and cruized a whole watch up Clarestreet, down Broad-street, into John-street, to fall in with some ship that had a roving commission, but d-n the single straggler could I find.

Passenger.-Astonishing! I have passed through such a grand fleet of them at Bristol of a night, that I have been obliged to luff up, and bear away, to keep clear of them. Where were they all ?

Mr. Adams.-All in a dry Dock! All in Bridewell! Indeed some were outside of the dock-gates; but they were riding the gale out with four anchors ahead ; two bowers, a stream and a sheet. It was there I first got alongside of Moll. She is as pretty a girl as ever stepped between the stem and stern of a vessel. And to see her upon a leeshore! It made me change colour in the face like a dolphin. My box of diamonds," says I to the girl, “this is neither ship-shape, nor Bristol -66 fashion. It was this fashion that made the

people at Constantinople. turn Turks. If the master-at-arms that

put you

in here ever comes “ athwart my hawse, I'll cut his cable.”

Passenger.--You are quite the champion of the

fair sex.

Mr. Adams.-When I don't love the fair sec, may my body be turned into a windlass, my legs and arms into handspikes, and my soul be hove to the devil hand over hand.

Passenger.-Mr. Adams, if you don't take in that topgallant-studding-sail, we shall in a few minutes be towing it alongside. Why it blows great guns, and it is coming on to rain marlingspikes.

Mr. Adanis. I would not start a tack or a sheet, if it was to blow hard enough to blow the devil's horns off. If the ship won't carry it, let her drag it. Moll is running away with the tow-rope, and I'll carry

sail till all is blue again. Passenger.-If you are so distractedly fond of Moll, why don't


send for a chaplain, and get spliced to her.

Mr. Adams. I hate your long splices; I like best a short splice. You can never draw. the strands of a long splice. And the first month of a long splice, though a man may be like a rampant lion, the next he is like a panting lamb.

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