himself for my sake, did you not know that the object might have been attained by the slightest hint to me? Why submit to deprivations that were wholly unnecessary for the point you had in view? Moreover, whence was your agitation, your tears, your terror, when you found yourself on the brink of a discovery so honourable to your pious devotion? O Sara, I will not abandon hope! I will believe that-that'

'Robert!' cried Sara, starting back in surprise and affright, 'this from you! Tell me,' she added, passionately, from whom did you suppose the money came?'

'From Miss Falcontower."

But

'And do you, then, presume to-to-to'Sara, much to her shame and indignation, was interrupted by the tears that would force their way.

'Lord Luxton,' continued Robert, inhumanly rejoicing in her grief, 'in return for long-continued literary services, had promised me a public appointment of some value; but from this engagement, on discovering the meanness of my origin, he appeared disposed to withdraw. When I found, therefore, that the surprising windfall did not come from my old benefactor, and imagining it to be wholly out of the question that you could have made so terrible a sacrifice for my unworthy self, I did suspect that Miss Falcontower, who, beneath the incrustation of artificial life, has still some original nobleness of character, had taken this mode of making up so far for her father's defalcation. Lord Luxton, however, undeceived me, by mentioning that his daughter was told one evening by the family lawyer in Lincoln's Inn, of the reluctance with which he had just consented to be, in his way of business, a party in dissipating more than half of your little property! Now, Sara'

'Robert, did you ever love the nobleness of character you talk of?'

'Always—but not the woman. My own Sara!' and he passed his arm round her waist, and drew her unresistingly to his bosom, 'I never loved but you! I am here, not to reject your sacrifice, but to accept it. So far from returning any portion of what you have given, I demand more-all-and you, my life and hope, with it! Speak, Sara, with your own simple, truthful lips -from your own generous, noble, womanly heart-will you make me the happiest and most grateful of men?' Sara was still weeping-but what delicious tears!--still some small, slight sobs told of the varying emotions she had undergone; and it was with a low and broken voice she answered

That you wish it, Robert, is happiness enough for me. The time may be distant, but I shall await it with trust in God, and implicit confidence in you.'

The time is come-it is now!-and the work I have still to do in the world is no longer for bread, but for usefulness and distinction !'

The tone in which the conversation was pursued may now be imagined. They were seated side by side on a sofa, in the usual attitude of promised lovers, and with Wearyfoot Common in view from the window. Robert disclosed to Sara the whole details of his London life-including even the audacious kiss he had printed on the hand of Claudia, and the story-in which, however, he had been forestalled by Mollyof the spectral face seen at Mrs Margery's window. On these points, and on these alone, Sara asked no questions, and made no remark.

'Tell me,' said she at last, if this Heaven-sent fortune had not come, what would have been your decision on discovering the source of my anonymous gift?'

'I am afraid to answer,' replied Robert; for I have more than suspected that there is a hard untrusting element in my character, though not, I hope, in my nature, which I must endeavour, with your assistance, to eradicate. Your touching devotion should have shattered my flinty theory to pieces; and I hope-I

am sure-it would have done so, had you been by my side. Without you, I tremble to think how much worse I should have been than I am. You do not know what blessed influences I drew from that faint lone star so often seen above the dreary Common! You do not know what a cold dark world this would have been for me without that light of hope! The mist would never have risen from my soul, the splash of the rain would never have ceased to hiss in my ears. O Sara, think of what I was, if you do not find me all you wish! Think of that miserable boy, for whom no creature cared so much as for a stray dog, even among the unhappy crew who perhaps included her to whom he owed his being! Think of the darkness through which he wandered-of the'

'Robert - dearest Robert-think rather that the mist is gone, the darkness dispelled, and that your star, as you call her, is shining, with all the little twinkling power she has, full upon your heart! See how green, how fresh, how beautiful is the desert Common, spangled with the small wild-flowers that peep out to greet the coming summer! Look how the sunbeams are shaken in successive showers of spray over its surface; and hark to that sweet, clear, winged voice that rises from its bosom straight up to heaven, interpreting the mute heart of the world!'

'I will, I do, my own best love!' said Robert, hiding his face on her shoulder; 'but when I think of the change, I am choked with a happiness so undeserved.' When he raised his head, the beautiful shoulder was wet, and he would have dried it in some confusion, had not Sara taken his hand gently in hers.

'Nay, beloved,' said she, with her soft, sweet voice, and fixing on him as she spoke her lofty and earnest eyes-nay, beloved, these are sacred drops! Let them stay, and be absorbed to heaven-let us give them jointly to the God of Mercy, an offering and a vow!'

The day of Robert and Sara's return from the marriage-trip, was a great day in the village of Wearyfoot. The launch of a shay-cart was to take placethat elegant hybrid between a gentleman's gig and a business vehicle-the first that ever was seen in those parts, and one of the handsomest that ever was seen anywhere out of London. The children of both sexes, and various women with babies in their arms, were collected long before the time. With some the door of the chaise-house was the popular point of view, for there they would catch the first glimpse of it as it came forth into its circumambulatory existence; but others, with perhaps better taste, preferred clustering round the baker's shop, where there would be added a human interest to the spectacle. Not a few of the more staid and respectable of the inhabitants, who were quite above testifying any curiosity of the kind, made an errand to that part of the line of street, and lingered to converse with a neighbour about the weather; while, as a general rule, there seemed to be quite a remarkable turn out in the village, the population finding it, somehow, desirable to take a mouthful of the sweet crisp air outside their doors.

The vehicle at last came forth, and was hailed with a shout of small voices. It was a very handsome gig in front for the riders, with a long body behind for the loaves, the whole painted and varnished in green and yellow like a gentleman's carriage; and it was drawn by a horse as fat as was consistent with smartness, and with a coat as brown and sleek as you shall see in any picture of Landseer. It drew up at the shop-door, and presently there came forth the young baker and his newly-married wife. There was some little flutter and awkwardness at first in the lady's getting into so novel a position, but this was ended by the husband, a fine, stout, prompt fellow, almost lifting his spouse into the carriage, and stepping lightly in after her himself.

clear-starcher, his best mode of procedure, I venture to suggest, is to open the window and look out.'

'That's very true, Elizabeth,' said the captain, 'that's very true, and if I don't do so the next time she comes, may I be shot!'

Their destination was the Lodge-Simple Lodge, for by that name it shall rest in our memory-and their object was not only to felicitate and be felicitated, but to shew Master Robert how the vehicle looked he had presented to them as a marriage-gift. They drew up at the kitchen-door, and Molly having first asked leave, piloted her husband to the hall. How they were kindly invited into the parlour, and shaken by the hand; how Molly, in addition, kissed Mrs Oaklands' hands with many smiles and tears; how she wouldn't sit down on any account but at the very edge of the door; how they drank a glass of wine with bows and curtsies, and the best of wishes, and ate a bit of cake out of their own shop; and how, flattered and delighted with their reception, they very soon took their leave and descended again to the kitchen, needs not be told.

But here they encountered another visitor, who had come in when they were up stairs, and Molly, with a loud scream, threw herself upon Mrs Margery. The scream brought instantly down the young couple and Elizabeth, for the captain would hardly have entered these precincts if he had heard a military hurra; and there was not merely a new shaking of hands, but Sara clasped Mrs Margery in her arms, and kissed her with tears in her eyes. Mrs Margery, however, though now 'a respectable tradeswoman as well as Molly, would not be prevailed upon to go up stairs. She would go home with her old fellow-servant, and stay with her that night. She had merely come down, she said, to see the Denowment she had predicted, and planned, and watched, and waited for so long-to see it with her own eyes. She had seen it, praise be to goodness. She had found it all right-just what it ought to be, and could not help being, and she was satisfied and thankful. As Robert and Sara knew that they would be the greater part of every year in London, and had a great many affectionate plans in their minds about Mrs Margery, they thought little of the abruptness of her present visit; and so, after a little more talk, and an affectionate and respectful leave-taking, she went away, and was driven back into the village in Molly's carriage.

As soon as Robert and his wife saw the visitors out of the kitchen-door-they had already admired the equipage-they rushed up the stairs, chasing one another, and calling and laughing like boy and girl, till they found the captain.

'There is Margery! there is Margery!-to the window, dear uncle!' and the captain obeyed orders in double-quick time. But on this occasion likewise he was too late. He saw only a couple of large shawls to choose from; and the veteran, with a look of almost superstitious puzzlement, turned away from the window, muttering

"That's very extraordinary! That is ve-ry ex-traord-in-ary!-What do you think of it,' continued he, turning to his sister, 'hey, Elizabeth?'

All authors agree,' replied the virgin, that the disappointments of life serve as teachings to the wise. When an individual desires to observe a comely cook or

All sanguine authors-and they who are not sanguine have no business to address themselves to the multitude of their kind--take the flattering unction to their souls, that they have excited an interest in their personages, sufficient to induce the reader to desire to know what becomes of them after the close of the story. It would

supposing such to exist, because we have brought up the chronicle within so small a number of years of the present moment, that fate has had no time, even if she were assisted by Mrs Margery herself, to arrange their several denowments.

We may say, however, that, thanks to the Wearyfoot connection, and his own skill in Grecianizing snubnoses, Mr Driftwood's business of cheap portraitpainting flourishes to this day; although we are sorry to add that his rascally boy still continues to be out of the way just at the moment he is wanted. The artist looks confidently to Mr and Mrs Robert Oaklands personally for a periodical addition to the number of sitters, and has not, so far, been disappointed. His friend takes the utmost care of these family portraits. They are always kept in the country, and are never permitted to be out of their cases in the lumber-room, except in compliment to the modern master himself when he comes on a visit. But Driftwood, it is said, has the prospect of a family-gallery of his own. At any rate, Miss Bloomley has taken a great notion of art, and is always bringing him sitters. Now, at her mother's death, the lodging-house in Great Russell Street will be her own; and, besides, she is herself the beau-ideal of a London girl of her rank, a fine, high-spirited, saucy, generous-hearted handsome lass-just the very person to make the good-natured artist happy, and confine his little eccentricities of genius within the line of prudence.

Mr Poringer and Mr Slopper, after the fight, resumed gradually their friendly intercourse. The former has not yet attained the mark of his ambition. The difficulty is not as to a house, so much as to a landlady. He could get plenty of both, it is true; but his choice is restricted within the small number of houses where the lower classes is not admitted, and within the still smaller number of landladies who possess the qualifications of Mrs Margery-a crustaceous attachment to home, and a sufficiency of money. He has made proposals to several of the latter kind, but found them, as he declares in confidence to Mr Slopper, vulgar and senseless, and blind to their own interest, beyond belief.

Adolphus, under the management of his excellent mother, has married in his own degree of intellect and station; and if he could only believe it, is much better off than if he had obtained the hand either of Miss Falcontower or Miss Semple. As for his friend Fancourt, he was just about to accept the captain's invitation, and go down to have a run upon Weary foot Common, when intelligence reached him of the union of Robert and Sara. This gave the hermit a chill, and indisposed him for running. He sits in his cell for hours moralising on his wasted existence, with a void behind and before him; the latter somewhat relieved by the picturesque prospect of the gout in the midst.

Claudia Falcontower is still young in spite of years, still radiantly lovely in spite of time. She has lost her taste for public business; and for that reason Lord Luxton has retired from the political world, and is distinguished only as a connoisseur in art. Claudia has refused more than one brilliant offer of marriage since her father's succession to the peerage, and it is thought has no intention to change her condition. She is a patroness of literature, and many a struggling author, male and female, has been largely indebted to

her helping-hand; but she makes no intimates even among her protégés, and with her cold and even haughty manner, liberal heart, and exquisitely refined taste, she is a complete enigma even to those whose business is the anatomy of character. She spends the greater part of the year at Luxton Castle, and listens condescendingly to Miss Heavystoke's long stories of her former pupils, and more particularly of her last, with whom that good lady remains in constant epistolary correspondence, and to whose children she expects one day to act as governess.

Claudia likewise pays some attention to her little cousin's education: but she is not attached to children, at least in the ordinary way-they seem to make her melancholy, and she rather shuns their society. Her interest, however, was one day excited in a more than usual manner by a child she had never seen before, and would probably never see again. She was walking in Kensington Gardens, and had gone into one of the alcoves to rest, when a nurse-maid passed by with her charge. The little creature, a fine boy between three and four years of age, took her at first for his mother, and ran in crying joyfully, 'Mamma!' but when she raised her head, and he discovered his mistake, he stopped short, and shaking his brown hair from his fair brow, looked at her with eyes so calm and soft, yet so observant and penetrating, that Claudia's

attention was aroused. The boy seemed to be limning her features in his own mind; till at length, with a sudden blaze from her strange eyes, she motioned him to approach. He did so with the firm step and calm self-possessed air befitting a gentleman's child; and, putting back his clustering hair from his brow, she gazed long and intently on his face. Then drawing him to her bosom, she strained him in her arms, and kissed him with such vehemence, that the child broke away and ran to his maid.

In a few minutes Claudia came forth, cold, calm, stately as usual; and her servant, who was talking with the nurse-maid, elevated his gold-headed cane, almost as tall as himself, and followed his mistress.

'Slopper,' said she indifferently, when they had walked on a few paces, do you know whose child that is?'

The child, miss,' replied Mr Slopper, touching his hat with official dignity, is the son of Robert Oaklands, Esquire, of Harley Street and Wearyfoot Common.'

THE END OF WEARYFOOT COMMON.

FITTING OUT A MAN-OF-WAR. ONE does not go to the Highlands to shoot partridges; yet it so happened that on the 6th day of September I found myself some twenty miles north of Inverness, waking up these birds from the turnip-fields, the corn being still uncut; and with the assistance of my companions, I managed to make up a pretty good bag. Such a confession cannot be made without an apology. Here it is. I had been staying some weeks with kind friends; and what with short excursions to places of interest in Ross and Sutherland, salmon and trout fishing, shooting deer both roe and fallow, to say nothing of wild-duck, with an occasional snipe and wood-cock, the time had passed as pleasantly as rapidly. Yet it so happened that on this particular 6th day of September, there was no chance of a fish rising or of getting near a roc. Grouse there were none. There was nothing particular to do, so we waked up the partridges until it was time for luncheon. Visions of a pleasant close to the day enlivened the walk home.

*After a short interval, there will appear a new work of fiction by another pen, to be continued, like the above, in weekly chapters till completed.

There had been some talk of music for the evening, and a return-match at four-handed chess. There was a certain sunny corner where a volume of Scott was wonderfully appreciated in the afternoon. Dinner must not be forgotten, with its accompaniments of roe-deer soup, fresh caught fish, game-pie, and venison chops hot from the gridiron, and in one of the kindest, most cheerful, and friendly parties that ever crossed the border. But, alas! the inexorable post anticipated the well-earned luncheon. A letter of ominous official form was put into my hand. The seal was broken, and I read

'ADMIRALTY, 4th September.

'SIR-My Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty having appointed you of Her Majesty's sloop the Saucy, it is their Lordships' direction that you repair immediately to the superintendent of Sheerness Dockyard for your appointment, and that you report to me the day on which you shall have joined the ship. I am, sir, your very humble servant,

W. A. B. HAMILTON. 'P.S.-It is desired that you acknowledge the receipt of this letter.'

had been put to favourite plans by the calls of the

This was not the first time that a like sudden stop

service. So putting a good face on the matter, and scarcely knowing whether to ask for condolence or congratulation, a few things were hurried into a portmanteau, a biscuit into the pocket, a hasty good-by exchanged, and within an hour from the receipt of my letter, I was waiting at a turnpike two miles off for the northern mail to give me a passage to Inverness. This gave me an opportunity of shaking hands with an old friend, who was hurrying off with his bride to Dunrobin as fast as post-horses could carry him; and what with this and the glow produced by a fast drive through the sharp, bracing air, on a bright Highland day, I was quite inclined to look on the light side of things by the time I was seated before a round of beef in the

Caledonian Hotel at Inverness.

A visit to Mr M'Dougall at his Clan Tartan Warehouse enabled me to defy the cold of a night on the Grampians; so in another hour I was again behind four horses for a fourteen hours' drive on the mail to Perth. Skirting the Moor of Culloden, lighted by a bright moon, enlivened by a cheerful fellow-traveller, nothing could have been more pleasant than this drive, had it only been a little warmer. The dark hills looked out majestically in the moonlight, the deep shadows adding immensely to their effect; while, to crown all, about midnight a magnificent aurora borealis lighted up the northern sky, shooting up its gigantic rockets from the horizon. Then came the drive through Blair-Athol and Dunkeld, and nine o'clock saw us at the city of the Fair Maid of Perth. From this to Edinburgh, the route was easy; thence twelve hours by express-train conveyed me to London, and in due time I found myself at that most detestable of all our ports, Sheerness, looking at my future home as she lay near the pier.

The time of fitting out a ship is the most unpleasant part of the commission. One must either live in a hulk, and go backwards and forwards in boats several times a day, or take up quarters in some dirty inn ashore, until the ship is made habitable. What I wish to tell, however, is what the fitting out of a ship of war is, and I flatter myself the information, taken as a whole, will be new to most readers.

It generally surprises any one who sees a ship of war at anchor in one of our harbours, when he is told that 1000, 500, or 150 persons, according to the size of the ship, live on board her. A corvette, with a crew of 150 men, does not appear, and really is not, larger than an ordinary merchant-ship of 500 or 600 tons, yet all these persons are boarded and lodged comfortably in their floating-home. But this is not all. The ship must carry a quantity of stores and provisions, which, if they were laid out on the shore, would fill a goodsized barn, and which any one would be apt to bet heavy odds could not be put on board the little ship. In the first place, water and provisions for the whole crew must be carried for some months, to make the ship efficient. In our case, we carried a complete supply for five months: we had fifty-three tons of water, and the weight of the tanks containing this water was eleven tons. Then the weight of beef and pork, biscuit, peas, and flour, sugar, tea, and cocoa, with other provisions, amounted to nearly twenty-five tons, the casks containing them weighing two tons and a quarter. In addition to this government supply of food and drink, the captain and officers take about seven tons of private stores for their own particular nourishment. Four tons of coal and wood; two tons of clothing, soap, candles, tobacco, &c.; two hundredweights of medical stores; and a ton and a half of rum; with more than a ton of holy-stones and sand for cleaning the decks, would fill a moderate-sized warehouse. Then when we consider the weight the good ship has to carry, we must calculate upon twenty tons of ballast, and upon sixteen or seventeen tons as the weight of the men and boys, with their clothing and bedding. The bowsprit, masts, yards, and booms weigh more than twenty-four tons; the rigging, twenty tons; and there are more than four tons of blocks only, or what are better known to landsmen as pulleys. The sails weigh two tons and a half, and there is the same weight of spare sails. There are sixteen tons of iron cable, and three tons of hempen cable. Four anchors weigh together more than seven tons; the boats more than three tons and a half. Then come the eighteen guns, which weigh together twenty-seven tons; and the stores taken by the gunners for working their guns, amount to about four tons and a half. The stores taken by the boatswain and carpenter to keep the ship and her rigging in working-order, weigh more than seventeen tons. Lastly, we have three tons and a half of powder, two tons and a half of case-shot, nineteen tons of cannon-balls, two tons of shells, and two tons of musket-balls and small-arms. If all this be added together, the reader will at once see that when our little vessel floated out of Sheerness Harbour to the Nore, she carried with her more than 300 tons of valuable property.

But as a friend of ours exclaimed when we were endeavouring to impress this upon him: 'Where, in the name of all that is wonderful, can it all be put? How can you live amid such a heap of incongruous matter? Where do you all live? Where is the kitchen? Where do you sleep, and where do all the men sleep?'-These are all very natural questions, and it will require some little time to answer them.

To commence with the space 'under hatches,' as it is called, or beneath the floor of the deck on which men and officers live. Any one who knows the shape of a ship, will see, on a little reflection, that this space will be broad and deep in the centre, gradually becoming narrower and more shallow towards both head and stern. At the extreme after-end, there was a space for the captain's stores; and beneath his cabin, the breadroom, capable of holding 100 bags of biscuit, each weighing a hundredweight. Then advancing forward, and beneath two of the officers' cabins, is the slop-room, where all the cloth and duck, shoes, flannel, hats, and other articles for men's clothing, are kept. Parallel

with this, and beneath the gun-room, extending also some way into the centre of the bread-room, is the shell-room and magazine. Each of the shells is packed in a separate box, and treated with such care that no one felt uneasy, although sitting every day at meals with 110 of them only separated from his feet by a plank, with nearly three tons of powder in the magazine close by. In a space corresponding to the slop-room, on the opposite side, was the officers' storeroom for provisions. Further forward, in the centre, are the lockers for shot, holding 1260 of these gentle persuaders of thirty-two pounds of cold iron. On either side of them, and of the shell-room, are holds for provisions and spirits. The nineteen tons of iron ballast are arranged just above the keel and round the lowest parts of the inside of the ship. Immediately upon these are the iron water-tanks, corresponding in shape to that of the vessel; those in the centre fitting square; those towards the sides circling at different angles. Six of the largest of these tanks hold each 600 gallons; two smaller ones, each 400 gallons; two of 200; twelve of 375; and eighteen of 110: making together forty tanks, holding 11,280 gallons, or more than fifty tons. These tanks occupy the central part of the ship, except a space reserved for the chain-cable and a small store of provisions for daily use. Further forward is a hold for the beef and pork, with another for coal and firing. Beyond this is the sail-room, where all the spare sails are kept; and, lastly, quite in the bows, the store-rooms, as they are called, but really a sort of dark cupboard, where the boatswain and carpenter keep their stores. All this is under hatchesthat is to say, a hatch must be raised to get into any of these spaces. A hatch is a square piece of the floor or deck cut out, so that it can be lifted by a ring, and furnished with locks, and so made as to keep all the lower part of the ship water-tight, or nearly so.

Next comes the inhabited portion of the ship. Commencing as before, from the after-part, we had first two cabins for the captain, each extending the whole breadth of the ship. The after one was small; but with a couple of arm-chairs and a portable fireplace, was a perfect little snuggery for him in winter, to lounge with a book or play a game at chess with one of us. The fore-cabin was much longer. At one side, doors opened into a sleeping-cabin and a large cupboard, where the charts and chronometers are kept. At the other, was an open sofa-bed place and a cabin where the steward kept all the glass, crockery, &c., for the table. The open space of the cabin was some seven paces by six, and between six and seven feet in height, being lighted by a sky-light on deck. In the centre, was a large square table, where many a jolly party of eight or ten have sat down to as good a dinner as was ever given afloat. Some well-filled book-shelves, a writing-desk, and a few chairs, with a barometer and compass, completed the furniture.

Next came the gun-room, where the gun-room officers namely, two lieutenants, master, surgeon, purser, and assistant-surgeon-mess. This is also a square cabin, lighted by a sky-light, six paces by five, of the same height as the captain's cabin, furnished simply with a square table, a few chairs, lockers for wine, which are converted into a sort of sofa by a cushion, and drawers and glass-stands for the furniture of the table. At one side, are two cabins for the two lieutenants; at the other side, are doors opening into a narrow passage, which leads from the captain's cabin, past the gunroom, on to the lower-deck, and separates the gun-room from the cabins of the master, surgeon, purser, and assistant-surgeon; which correspond with those of the lieutenants on the opposite side of the ship, but are carried further forward. All these cabins are about six feet square. There is a bed-place with drawers beneath it, a washhand-stand, a flap which can be raised to form a table, book-shelves, a chair, and a

chest of drawers; and this completes the home of each officer. Yet it is surprising how much is stowed away in so small a space, and how much taste is often displayed in setting off one's own particular corner of the ship to the best advantage. Pictures and lookingglasses, Turkish rugs and Greek lace, velvet and gilding, are all brought into play; yet room is still found for clothes and books, the cumbersome cases of uniform, gun-cases, telescope, sextant, and the curiosities picked up at different ports, to prove our remembrance of old friends when arriving again in England.

The midshipmen's berth is on the same side as the lieutenants' cabins, just abaft the main-hatchway. It is merely a cabin some five paces square, nearly filled by a table, over which swings a lamp, and is lighted, like all the officers' cabins, by what are called bulls-eyesprisms of glass let in through the deck. Around the table are square lockers, and on the top of these the middies sit. Of course there is no room for chairs. Some shelves above receive the sextants, glasses, desks, and books; a recess is fitted up for crockery, and the berth is complete. In this we had two mates, five midshipmen, a clerk, and a master's assistant. None of these officers sleep in cabins, but are slung at night in hammocks like the men, in a part of the lower-deck, just outside their berth, where each has his chest arranged. In this chest he must keep the whole of his dress and property, and a drawer for his washing utensils.

The lower-deck, or the space where the seamen live, cook, eat, and sleep, was 54 feet long, 6 feet 6 inches in height between the beams, and 28 feet in breadth at the broadest part. In this space, 130 seamen had to find accommodation; not only for themselves, but for the galley or kitchen, and for all the mess-tables and stools to live by day when not on deck, and to sleep by night. It was as well supplied with light and air as is any ship of the class, but still susceptible of improvement in these respects. Along each side a number of mess-tables are arranged, each capable of accommodating a dozen men, six on each side, seated on a stool of the length of the table. Shelves arranged on the sides of the ship receive the plates and 'mess-gear,' as the cookery of the men is called. There is a good deal of pride in the show the men can make in this way, and a little rivalry between different messes. All along the beams are rows of hooks, fourteen inches apart, to which the hammocks are slung at night for the men to sleep in. The hammock is simply an oblong piece of canvas, with holes at each end, through which lines are passed, brought together, and the hammock thus hung to the hooks. It contains a hair mattress and pillow, and a blanket or two for the men, the officers adding the luxury of sheets. In the morning, every hammock is rolled up, tied into a fixed size and shape, and arranged around the bulwarks of the ship, being uncovered in fine weather, but protected, when necessary, by a covering of tarpaulin. Thus there is no sign of a sleeping-place on the lower-deck during the day, all the hammocks being above.

The galley or kitchen would sadly puzzle a shorecook. No fire is to be seen; no joints are seen roasting. All is enclosed in a square iron case; there is a furnace below, surrounded by water, and into this sauce-pans of all shapes and sizes are let in-from the caldron which boils the soup for the whole ship's company, to the sauce-boat for the officers' fish-all boiling, baking, roasting so called, toasting, stewing for the meals of the captain, the two officers' messes, and the whole of the men, are thus done in an iron box some five feet square, and in many ships distilled water is prepared at the same time. In some of our large troop-ships, 800 gallons of distilled water are thus prepared every day.

Such was our craft below. On deck we had eighteen 32-pounders; and aloft, the usual sails of a three

ALTHOUGH ourselves intensely English, we are constrained by conscience to admit, that the people of the continent of Europe do-like the 'Dougal creature'display certain 'glimmerings' of sense. We have, indeed, been sorely tempted to entertain the idea, that if any enemy were to institute an invidious comparison between the insulars and the continentals, the verdict of an impartial judge-though, of course, on the whole greatly in favour of the superiority of the former-might possibly, on one or two points, incline to that of the latter. To be serious-it does seem strange that, whilst men of other nations should know both where to get the materials for a savoury dish, and how to cook them, the English are so blissfully ignorant on such points, that, although their woods and meadows teem with a rich abundance of wholesome, savoury, and nutritious food-from the gathering of which no law withholds their hands-they allow these treasures to perish before their eyes, and go back to their cottages to a halfmeal of unattractive fare. Nay, more than this--if one skilled in such lore were to lay on the cotter's table enough of this good food to supply him and his household for a week, such is the extent of his prejudice, that, in all probability, he would throw the whole of the gift on the dung-heap, and not even suffer his pig to make its supper from it.

We speak of the Fungus tribe. Many of our readers may not be aware that, amongst almost all the continental nations, funguses afford not a mere flavouring for a delicate dish, or a pleasant sauce or pickle, but the staple food of thousands of the people; indeed, in some places, they are for several months in the year not only the staple, but the sole food of tens of thousands of the inhabitants.

Dr Badham-whose most interesting work on the Esculent Funguses of England we would recommend to every reader-tells us: In France, Germany, and Italy, funguses not only constitute for weeks together the sole diet of thousands, but the residue-either fresh, dried, or variously preserved in oil, vinegar, or brine-is sold by the poor, and forms a valuable source of income to many who have no other produce to bring into the market.' In the markets of Rome, thousands of basketfuls are sold during the season; and so extensive is the traffic in this commodity, that there is a regularly appointed officer for examining the fungi offered for sale. This officer is called Ispettore dei Funghi: he is a botanist, competent to pronounce whether the specimens produced are noxious or otherwise; and if he discovers in the lots submitted to him that there are any either stale or of injurious quality, he sends them under guard to be thrown into the river. Those that are pronounced saleable are then weighed, in order that a tax may be levied on them. Quantities under ten pounds in weight are not taxed.

In other Italian states, the number of fungi brought to market is equal in proportion to those sold in Rome. In Hungary, the demand is perhaps greater than elsewhere. In France, there is a strong feeling in favour of mushrooms grown in a garden or otherwise artificially cultivated, over those which spring up indigenously. We believe we are correct in stating, that the British are the only Europeans who do not extensively use these varied and valuable articles of diet. Only hear the list of good things which we neglect! Dr Badham says: 'I have indeed grieved when I reflected on the straitened condition of the lower orders this year, to see pounds innumerable of extempore beef-steaks growing on our oaks, in the