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Cunningham.—Hard up, Sir, and she cracks! Touch and go a good pilot. May the church I

go to always have a quart pot for the hourglass, and flip for the sand. May our wives soon receive us in a white-limed chamber, where there is a four-posted bedstead, with a bottle and glasses upon the table. Gentlemen, when we spend our money let us spend it like seamen among the girls and the fidlers. Gentlemen, Saturday night comes but once a week, so here's to sweethearts and wives, and wives and sweet-hearts.

Mr. Adams.Avast heaving there ! heave and paul! Why your health is as long as the fore and main-top-bowlines spliced together. I called for a toast, and you have given a sentiment ! Passenger.-Adams don't interrupt the gentle

If this was the Mulberry in Bristol, instead of the Olive's quarter-deck, I would call order. Yes, Sir, I would call you to order ! You should be fined ! Yes, Sir, you

Yes, Sir, you should be fined a glass all round !

Mr. Adams.-D-n the Mulberry. They will serve out no swipes after six bells. I always go to the Rodney, at the corner of Thunderboltstreet.

Cunningham.--The Cornish Mount, Sir, is a genteel house. So is the Little Tower. So is the Sedan Chair. They used to call the Sedan Chair, the Three Mariners. I once drapk

man.

you to

twelve cans of Burton at the Sedan Chair hand going.

Mr. Adams.--Come finish your sentiment you wet swab.

Cunningham.Gentlemen, I am a rough-knot; I am an innocent fellow. No offence. I am a Potomac-man. I was born and bred upon Quantico-creek, where the Olive got her tobacco. Come, Gentlemen, here's thumping luck; a bagfull of dollars, and a bushel of half-crowns every Saturday night !-Ha! that nourishes me like mother's milk.

Passenger.—What a beautiful morning! See! the moon is hiding her head among the waves. The day is breaking in the East. The cocks are crowing on the shore. And a ship lying in one of the harbours has fired the morning gun. How fair too the wind! It blows directly up channel! Oh! that I had one of those gentlemen's seats that present themselves to the view, with a larder of fresh meat, a cellar of old wine, and my coffers stuffed with guineas.

Mr. Adams.- I wish I had. And that the man it now belongs to had hold of the moon with his hands well greased.

Passenger.- What o'clock is it?

Mr. Adams.—That's not proper language for a ship. It becomes only a quill-driver, a grasscomber, or a sugar-baker.

Passenger.-How many bells is it?

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Mr. Adams.- reckon it is in bow and out

I boat-hook.

Man at the helm. It is seven bells, Sir.

Passenger.—I presume, Mr. Adams, that the very instant you land at Cowes, you will ride post to Bristol.

Mr. Adams.--Riding always takes off my sheathing. I shall charter a coach. I do want to see Bristol again! Since I became acquainted with Moll, it seems as natural to me as New Point Comfort.

Passenger.--- If Moll be a native of Bristol, and you get spliced to her, you willbe free of the City.

Mr. Adams.-That's what Moll told me, when she wanted to lay an anchor out to windward of me. But, by heaven, whenever a girl talks to me about sending for a Chaplain to get spliced, I always change colour in the face like a dolphin.

Passenger.—Did you ever take Molly an airing to Bath?

Mr. Adams.—'Twas in steering for Bath that I first saw the busk of old Davy Jones. When you have weathered Bristol Bridge, you get into Tenple-street, and by putting your helm hard a starboard, you come within hail of old Davy Jones, at the corner of Bear-lane.

You then pass through Temple-gate, and have the wind large all the way to Trotter-tripe-down.

Passenger.--You think the statue resembles Neptune?

Mr. Adams. It is damnably like him in the face. But they have painted the old fellow red. They have made him look like an Indian.

Passenger.-How pleasant this breeze! The joy that a fair wind lights up in the countenance of the mariner is a saint representation of a person going prosperously on to the haven of eternal

rest.

Mr. Adams.- Are you saying your prayers? I hope you are not a priest. A ship never gets safe to port that has a priest on board.

Passenger. How fair the breeze !

Mr. AdamsYes, we may put another pea in the pot. But it was I who brought you this fair wind.

Passenger.-How?

Mr. Adams. It was I who hove the steward? boots overboard.

Passenger.—What ! tassels and all.

Mr. Adams.--Yes, all the geer went with them. They looked just like two hand-swabs.Is the ship her course now.

Is her head due East ?

Man at the helm.—No, Sir. She's half a point to windward of it.

Mr. Adams.-I thought so. There ! mect her again; give her the helm. Steady! now. Steady Steady as you go! Steady!

Man at the helm.—Steady!—The light's out in the binnacle. I can't see to steer the ship.

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Mr. Adams.--Steward! Steward! You steward! Forecastle there! Cunningham!

Cunning bam.-Sir!
Mr. Adans.—Is the steward on the forecastle.

Cunningham.--He's in the shot-locker, Sir, before the stem.

Mr. Adams.-How long has he been there?

Cunninghan. Half the watch, Sir. He is taking a Newfoundland spell.

Mr. Adams.--Get a rope Cunning bam, and rope's end him aft here.

Cunningham.-Aye! Aye! Sir! Aye! Aye !

I staid upon deck till sun-rise, smelling the coal fires of my countrymen, and conversing with Mr. Adams ;-who, after dg the steward up in heaps, was insensibly inclined to the fair part of the creation, and swore that if it was not for the girls he would not give a stiver to live.--" They “ have used me bloody ill,” said he ; « but still “? I can no more help loving them, than the ship “ can help going through the water. The pret" tiest girl I ever came athwart was a Smyrna

girl. I have been five voyages up the Straits. “ She was not like our American girls; she was “ not flush fore and aft like a deal board; but “ bluff about the bows. She sent me a letter in Italian. I got an old Irish washerwoman to

capsize it for me into English. She took me “ for an Englishman. I was to call at her sum“ mer-house about eleven o'clock. After work I “ went to the cook's grease-tub, and having got

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