This was a difficult question and one which Peregrine Pultuney was all unable to answer; he pondered a little, and then said, "I am afraid that I cannot make you brave, any more than I can make you strong or healthy, or beautiful, or tall, if you are not naturally so; but although you can not hope to change your nature, by study perhaps you may conceal it." And Peregrine Pultuney, after having uttered a few more sentences, some of advice and some of consolation, quitted the society of his desponding companion, with a hearty wish that he could impart a little of his own constitutional bravery to the poor fellow, who so longed to possess it.

Peregrine Pultuney then went upon deck, stumbled over a coil of ropes, cursed the rope-makers, and joined Julian Jenks smoking a cigar by gangway.

the

Our hero, who was never backward in following a good example, extricated a cigar-box from his pocket, placed an Havannah between his lips, and applied the end of it to the glowing extremity of his friend Jenks's cigar.

Then the two smoked in concert. They puffed a little, and they talked a little, and looked about the ship, and made sundry observations on men and manners, all more or less striking and original. There were a great many boxes about the deck, and a great many boats about the vessel, and things in general did not look ship-shape. Officers of all grades bustled about, looking excessively important,

and passengers of every description hung about here and there, got in the way, stumbled over ropes, and looked as miserable as a number of cats in a fish-pond. And there was a great pilot on the poop, with an exceedingly rough voice, and he bawled out something to the chief-mate, and the chief-mate bawled out something to the boatswain, and the boatswain bawled out something to the crew, and then there was a whistling, and a scuffling, and a scrambling, and a number of sailors, hustling one against the other, collected in front of the cuddy, about a great round block of green wood, which Jenks heard somebody call the capstan, and then each of the sailors seized hold of a long thick piece of wood, which he stuck into a hole in the green block, making the whole concern look just like an immense wheel without any fellies; and then all the sailors got in between the spokes, laid two great hands upon them, and leaned forwards with their chests thrust out, all ready to begin. Then Peregrine, to his great astonishment, heard somebody strike up a lively air on the violin, and with the first bar all the sailors commenced operations in earnest, stamping to the music and working round like so many horses in a mill, whilst the capstan thus acted upon, groaned and creaked and sent forth a considerable diversity of the most cacophonous sounds ever heard, to the great annoyance of Peregrine Pultuney, Julian Jenks, and the thirty other passengers in the Hastings. This process,

as Peregrine afterwards learnt, was simply called "weighing anchor."

Peregrine Pultuney and Julian Jenks expressed themselves very forcibly to the effect, that they wished the capstan any where else than on the quarter-deck of the Hastings. And whilst these remarks were passing between them, they were joined by a third party, who, as it appeared, had walked to the gangway, for no other purpose in the world, than to rid himself of some superfluous saliva, which had been generated in his mouth by the

a cigar.

agency of

This individual was a young man, apparently about four-and-twenty, with a long cork-screw ringlet on each side of his face, a velvet cap with a silk tassel, a considerable length of leg, a narrow moustache, a shawl waistcoat, a gold chain, and a pair of lemon-coloured kid-gloves. He was not by any means an ill-favoured specimen of humanity, but he seemed to have an innate consciousness of his personal attractions, and to be not a little proud of his white teeth, his moustache, and his patent leather boots-for he showed off the first, twisted the second, and looked down his leg at the third.

It is probable that if Peregrine Pultuney had entertained as high a respect for this individual as the individual entertained for himself, he would have been restrained by a reverential awe, from addressing himself to such a magnate without any formal introduction; but Peregrine, it must be acknow

ledged, was no great respecter of persons, and fear as we have before said, had not booked a place in the omnibus of our hero's character. So it came to pass, that he did address himself to the gentleman of the сар, and that too, without having thought twice on the propriety or impropriety of such a proceeding.

"What a horrid noise that capstan makes," observed Peregrine Pultuney.

The remark was a very common-place, but a very inoffensive one. It was a beginner and must therefore be excused.

"Did you say any thing?" drawled the owner of the velvet cap, as he glanced at Peregrine with a sort of what-right-have-you-to-speak-to-me expression of countenance, and twisted his moustache more virnlently than ever.

"Yes, I did," replied Peregrine Pultuney, calmly.

May I ask what it was, sir," said the exquisite, who was only a cornet, going out to join a dragoon regiment in Bengal.

"May I ask what it was you said, sir?"

"I simply observed," returned Peregrine, "that the noise of the capstan is very offensive."

"You think so, do you?" drawled the proprietor of the moustache. "You really think the noise is offensive?"

Peregrine Pultuney observed in a quiet manner, that he had said so, and therefore had thought so.

He knew the kind of person he was dealing with, and kept back to plant his blows with precision.

"Well, I am very sorry," continued the dandy, in a voice of mock politeness, "but really, sir, I agree with you."

can't

Now Peregrine Pultuney, when he had first remarked that the noise of the capstan was offensive, had been rather ashamed of himself for giving utterance to such a self-evident proposition, and therefore he would have been rather astonished by any body's questioning the truth of it, if he had not been possessed of a certain rapidity of intuition, which told him that the individual he was conversing with, was a consummate puppy, who was half annoyed at our hero's freedom, and half inclined to roast a greenhorn, as he very sagaciously judged Peregrine to be.

The cornet, however, had caught a tartar-the fair, youthful-looking cadet was more than a match for all the subalterns of the th dragoons put together. "Well, that's strange," he said, "I knew very well that puppies were born blind, but I did not know that they were deaf too-I see now that they are," and as he said this, Peregrine filled his mouth with smoke, and let it curl slowly up into the eyes of the long cornet.