quizzed one another good humoredly—some declared they had been dreadfully spooney with some fair girls before leaving home, but were better now, and thought the marine air wholesome for those complaints. Others, again, still remained faithful, compared their watches with the chronometers, to determine the exact difference of time on certain periods designated beforehand, with may be a choice collection of stars of the first magnitude, to gaze at by night. Nevertheless, there was a radical change for the better; we became more companionable, hobnobbed across the table, after dinner, heard with calm delight orchestral music from the flutes and fiddles of papa Gheeks and family—an old gentleman from faderland, whom the sailors, in their ignorance of German, had baptized "Peter the Greeks," a soubriquet by which he universally went—and one of our mess had the humanity to inquire if the small French horn, or octave flute, had tumbled down the hatchway, and whether he broke his neck or was merely asphyxic. We even ceased grumbling at the servants, and to a man all agreed that the passage had been of unexampled pleasantness.

Nothing checked our headlong speed, and the fiftieth day from Boston saw us close to the high, desolate mountains of cape Frio, within plain view of the little rocky nook where the English frigate Thetis made a futile attempt to batter the island over, but went down in the struggle. 'Tis said the gun room mess were entertaining the captain at dinner, who somewhat oblivious to everything, save being homeward bound to merry England with a ship laden with treasure, disregarded the sailing master's wishes to alter the course, and the consequence was, after night set in, the frigate struck, going eight knots—providentially the crew were saved. The long Atlantic swell was rolling heavily against the bluff promontories, and the surf lashing far up the black heights, giving many of us a nervous disinclination to making a night expedition among the rocks, going to sleep with a dirty shirt and mouthful of sand, without even the consolation of being afterwards laid out in clean linen, to make luncheon for vultures; but since it takes a complication of those diversions to compose a veritable sea life, we banished perspective danger, and indulged in speculations upon the pleasures of port.

CHAPTER II.