being regularly flagged, an old sailor without his legs had taken possession of the interval, for the sake of writing, with white and coloured chalks, sundry loyal sentences, such as "God save the King," "Rule Britannia," and so forth, by way of excitement to the passersby to purchase one from a string of equally loyal sea-ballads that hung overhead, intermixed with two-penny portraits of eminent naval commanders, all very much alike, and all wearing very blue coats and very red faces. At first, the two respectable ladies of the mansion (dowager spinsters, Morris by name) objected greatly to the use made of their wall and their pavement by the crippled veteran in question, who was commonly known through out Belford by the name of "Poor Jack;" probably from his attachment to the wellknown sailor's ditty, which happened to form his first introduction to the younger of the two ladies in question: "Here am I, poor Jack, Just come home from sea, Pray what d'ye think of me?" "I think you a very saucy person," replied Miss Arabella Morris to this question, not said but sung by the sailor in a most stentorian voice, as he lay topping and tailing the great I in "God save great George our King," just on one side of their gate. "I think you are a very saucy person," quoth Miss Arabella, "to sit begging here, just at our door." Begging!" rejoined poor Jack; "I'm no beggar, I hope. I've lost my precious limbs, when I fought under Admiral Rodney; I've a pension, bless his Majesty, and have no call to disparage the service by begging like a land-lubber, Sailors to forget their duty, chanted Jack. "I must really apply to the Mayor," said Miss Arabella. "Go," said Jack, continuing his work and resuming his stave. "When the captain he heard of it, He very much applauded what she had done, "Made me a first lieutenant!" exclaimed the affronted Arabella. "Was ever any thing so impertinent? Pray, if you are not a beggar, what may you be?" "My name, d'ye see, 's Tom Tough, Oh, I've seen a little sarvice, Then in Providence I trust, For you know what must be, must;" and, consoled by this philosophical strain, he tranquilly continued his occupation, which, after a little persuasion from the mayor, and Something like an apology from Jack himself, (to whose looks and ways they began to get accustomed,) the good ladies permitted him to pursue in peace and quietness under their sheltering wall. The above conversation will have shown that poor Jack was something of a humorist; but his invincible good-humour was his distinguishing qualification. I doubt if there than the poor cripple who picked up a precawas in all England a more contented person rious livelihood by selling loyal ballads in Bristol-street in Belford. Maimed as he was, there was something in his round bullet-head, and rough sun-burnt countenance,-in his nod, his wink, his grin, (for it would not do to call such a contortion a smile,) in the snap of his fingers, and the roll of his short athletic body -more expressive of fun and merriment than I ever beheld in any human being. Call him poor Jack, indeed! Why, if happiness be wealth, he was the richest Jack in Christendom! So thought Tom Lyndham, whose road to and from school passed the lair of the sailor, and who having stood one evening to hear him go through the whole ballad, "On board of the Arethusa," and finally joined in the refrain with much of Jack's own spirit, fell into conversation with him on the battles he had fought, the ships he had served in, and the heroes he had served under, (and it was remarkable that Jack talked of the ships with the same sort of personal affection which he displayed towards their captains,) and from that evening made up his mind that he would be a sailor too. Sooth to say, the enthusiasm with which Jack spoke of Keppel and Rodney, and Parker and Howe, as well as of the commanders of his youth, Hawke and "old Boscawen;" his graphic description of the sea-fights in which the English flag did really seem to be the enof the ballads which he sung, and the personal sign of victory; the rough, bold, manly tone character of the narrator-were in themselves enough to work such an effect on a lively, spirited, ambitious boy, whose bravery of Where the foaming billows roar and the winds do mind and hardihood of body made him ac blow; I've sailed with noble Howe, And I've sailed with gallant Jervis. And only lost an eye, and got a timber toe; I've sailed with old Boscawen:" count toil and danger rather as elements of enjoyment, like the bright frosty air of winter, than as evils to shrink from; whilst his love! of distinction made him covet glory for its own sake, and his grateful and affectionate again shouted (for singing is hardly the word temper rendered the prospect of wealth (for of course he was to be a second Rodney) delightful as the means of repaying to his aunt and Mr. Singleton the benefits which he had derived from their kindness. Besides this, he had always had an innate passion for the water. His earliest pranks of dabbling in kennels, and plunging in pools, had shown his duck-like propensities; and half his scrapes at school had occurred in a | similar way:-bathing before the appointed day, swimming in dangerous places, rowing and fishing at forbidden hours; he had been caught half-a-dozen times boat-building at the wharf, and had even been detected in substituting Robinson Crusoe for the Greek Grammar, from which Mr. Singleton expected such miracles. In short, Tom Lyndham was one of those boys whose genius may fairly be called semi-aquatic. That he would be a sailor was Tom's firm resolution. His only doubt was whether to accomplish the object in the regular manner by apprizing Mrs. Martin and Mr. Singleton of his wishes, or to embrace the speedier and less troublesome method of running away. The latter mode offered the great temptation of avoiding remonstrances equally tedious (and the grateful boy would hardly allow himself to think how tedious!) and unavailing, and of escaping from the persuasions of which his affectionate heart felt in anticipation the power to grieve, though not to restrain; besides, it was the approved fashion of your young adventurer,-Robinson Crusoe had run away: and he consulted Jack seriously on the measure, producing, in answer to certain financial questions which the experience of the tar suggested, a new half-crown, two shillings, a crooked sixpence, and sundry halfpence, as his funds for the expedition. | 375 pened to be in the shop talking to Mr. Singleton," Aunt, I'm determined to go to sea directly; and if you won't let me, I'll run away." And as the hitherto respectful and dutiful boy, Never were two people more astonished. who, with all his spirit, had never before contradicted a wish expressed by either, continued to answer to all remonstrances, “I will go to sea; and if you won't let me, I'll run away," Mr. Singleton began to think it best to inquire into his own views, motives and prospects. inson Crusoe, and a crippled sailor, and halfVague enough they were, to be sure! Roba-dozen ballads for inducements, and a letter of introduction from poor Jack to a certain veteran of his own standing, Bob Griffin by a public-house at Portsea, and commanding, name, formerly a boatswain, and now keeping according to him of the stumps, a chain of infamous ladder of promotion in Roderick Ranterest somewhat resembling Tom Bowling's dom, a scrawl directed in red chalk, in printed letters, half an inch long, to MISTUR BOB GRIFIN LANLURD SHIP AGRUND PORSEE, by way of introduction to the naval service of Great Britain! However, there was in the earnestness of the lad, in the very slightness of the means on which he built, and in his bold, ardent, and manly character, that evidence of the bent of his genius, the strong and decided turn for one pursuit, and one only, which it is scarcely wise to resist. prediction of the good Doctor, yielded. He "But the worst of it was when the little ones were "Five and threepence halfpenny!" exclaimed the prudent mariner, counting the money, and shaking his head,-" "Twont do, master! Consider, there's the voyage to Portsmouth, on board o' the what d'ye call 'um, the coach there; and then you'll want new rigging, and have to lie at anchor a shortish bit may be, before you get afloat. I'll tell you what, messmate, leaves light; ax his honour the chaplain, the curate, or whatever you call him, and if so be he turns cantanker-letter of introduction to "Mistur Bob Grifin," ous, you can but cut and run, after all." And Tom agreed to take his advice; and after settling in his own mind, as he walked home, various ingenious plans for breaking the matter gradually and tenderly to his good old aunt, (on whom he relied for the still more arduous task of communicating this tremendous act of contumacy to his reverend patron,) he, from sheer nervousness and over-excitement, bolted into the house, and forgetting all his intended preparations and softenings, a thing which has often happened, from the same causes, to older and wiser persons, shouted out at once to Mrs. Martin, who hap he had the satisfaction to find that he had sailed with his relation when second lieutenant of a sloop called the Gazelle; and although relinquishing, with many thanks, the nest fist to Captain Conyers; and it is to be actually accepted one from the same hard hodoubted whether poor Jack's recommendation of "the tight youngster," as the veteran called him, had not as much to do with the captain's cordial reception of his new midshipman, as the more elaborate praises of Mr. Singleton. was at its height, and he had the luck (excelA midshipman, however, he was. The war lent luck as he thought it) to be in the very hottest of its fury. In almost every fight of the great days of our naval glory, the days of Tom Lyndham, first of the first, bravest of the Nelson and his immediate successors, was brave, readiest of the ready. From the moment that his age and rank allowed him to be officially noticed in the despatches, he was so; and it is to be questioned whether the very happiest moment of Mr. Singleton's life was not that in which he first read Tom's name in the Gazette. He cried like a child; and then he read it to Mrs. Martin, and whilst trying to lecture her for crying, cried again himself. He took the paper round the town to every house of decent gentility, from the mayor's downwards; read it to the parishclerk and the sexton; and finally relinquished an evening party to which he was engaged at the Miss Morrises', to carry the news and the newspaper to poor Jack, who, grown too infirm to face the weather, had been comfortably placed, through his kindness, in an almshouse about two miles off. It is even reported that, on this occasion, Mr. Singleton, although by no means noted for his skill in music, was so elated as to join poor Jack in the chorus of "On board of the Arethusa," in honour of Tom Lyndham. From this time all prospered with our gallant sailor, except, indeed, a few glorious scars which he would have been ashamed to want, and one of which, just after he had been appointed first lieutenant to the Diana, gave him the opportunity of coming back to Belford, for a short time, to regain his health, and revisit his old friends. Think of the delight of Mr. Singleton, of Mrs. Martin, of her maid Patty, and of poor Jack! "Here am I, poor Jack!' firmness and sweetness, regular features and a countenance at once open, spirited, and amiable,-harmonized well with a character and reputation of which his fellow-townsmen already felt proud. Tom Lyndham was the very pride of Belford; happy was the damsel whom he honoured with his hand at the monthly assembly; and, when he rejoined his ship, he was said to have carried away, unintentionally, more hearts than had been won with care, and pain, and malice prepense, by any half-dozen flirting recruiting-officers in the last half-dozen years. No Belford beauty was, however, destined to captivate the brave sailor. Love and fortune had prepared for him a very different destiny. Returning home towards the end of the war, (I mean the great war, the war par eminence, the war with Napoleon,) into Portsmouth harbour, or rather bringing in a prize, a frigate of many more guns and much greater force than his own, the gallant Captain Lyndham (for he had now been for some years posted) no sooner set foot on shore, than he encountered an old messmate. "Ha, Lyndham! your old luck, I see! You and the little Laodamia have peppered the Frenchmen as usual," said the brave Captain Manning. "Do you make any stay at Portsmouth?" have sent my first lieutenant to London with Yes," replied Captain Lyndham; "I despatches, and shall be fixed here for some days." 66 "I am thoroughly glad to hear it," rejoined his friend; "for I myself am rather awkward shouted the veteran when Tom made his ap- ly situated. An old aunt of mine has just pearance; Here am I, poor Jack, Just come home from sea, Pray what d'ye think of me?' And the above, as it happened, was highly appropriate; for between battles and prizes, Mr. Lyndham, although still so young a man, was rich enough to allow him to display his frank and noble generosity of spirit in the most delicate way to Mr. Singleton and his aunt, and in the most liberal to Jack and Patty. None who had been kind to him were forgotten; and his delightful spirit and gaiety, his animated good-humour, his acuteness and intelligence, rendered him the very life of the place. He was a singularly fine young man, too; not tall, but strong, muscular, and well built, with a noble chest, and that peculiar carriage of the head, which gives so much of dignity to the air and figure. The head itself was full of manliness and expression. The short curling black hair, already giving token of early baldness, and exposing a high, broad polished forehead, whose fairness contrasted with the sun-burnt complexion of the rest of the face; an eagle eye, a mouth combining brought two of my cousins to see the lions, depending on me for their escort. Now I must be off to the Admiralty immediately; dare not stay another hour for all the aunts and cousins in Christendom. They, poor souls, don't know a creature in the place; and I shall be eternally obliged to you if you will take my turn of duty, and walk them over the dock-yards, and so forth. By the way, they are nice girls-not sisters, but cousins. One is an heiress, with above 3000l. a-year, and a sweet place by the side of the Wye; the other is called a beauty. I don't think her so; or rather, I prefer the heiress. But nice girls they are both. I have the honour to be their guardian, and if either should hit your fancy, you have my free leave to win her and wear her. So now come with me, and I'll introduce you." And in five minutes more they were in one of the best rooms at the Fountain, and Captain Lyndham was introduced to Mrs. Lacy, and to Miss Manning and Miss Sophia Manning. Mrs. Lacy was a lady-like elderly woman, a widow without a family, and very fond of her nieces, who had been brought up under her own eye, and seemed to supply to her the place of daughters. "This is the heiress!" a tall commanding figure, expensively and fashionably dressed, and with that decided air of consequence and self-importance which the habit of power is too apt to give to a person in that unfortunate predicament. "This is the heiress! and this, I suppose, must be the beauty," thought Captain Lyndham, turning to a shorter, slenderer, fairer young woman, very simply dressed, but all blushes and smiles, and youthful animation. "This must be the beauty," thought the Captain, "and whatever Manning may say, beautiful she is -never saw a sweeter creature than this Miss Sophy." thought Captain Lyndham, as he glanced over | terest? because she had drawn from him his own early history, and talked of the toy-shop in the market-place of Belford, and of poor Jack, and the maid Patty, and even of Mr. Singleton himself, (little as one would think that good gentleman, now abroad with his third wife, was calculated to strike a young lady,) with almost as much affection as of his frigate and his prize, and his ship's crew, and the absent first lieutenant, his especial friend, and a little midshipman, his especial protegé? To any man of sensibility, this sensibility, shown by a woman, young, lovely, animated, and artless, would have been dangerous to a sailor just come ashore, it was irresistible. He made her talk in return of her own friends and pleasures and amusements, of her home at Sanbury, where she had lived all her life with her aunt and her cousin, and where she hoped always to live; ("not always," thought our friend the Captain;) and how much more loveable those dear relations were in that dear home. "My aunt," said Sophy, "is nervous and timid, so that you know nothing of her but that infirmity; and dear Honor does not love travelling, and does not like the sea, and has been all her life so much admired, that she is a little spoilt, and does not always know what she would have; but you will love Honor when you see her at home." And if he thought Sophy Manning pretty then, the impression was far deepened when he had passed two or three days in her company-had walked her over the wonders of that floating world, a man-of-war-had shown her the dock-yards, with their miracles of machinery; and had even persuaded Mrs. Lacy, a timorous woman, the least in the world afraid of being drowned, and Miss Manning, a thorough fine lady, exceedingly troubled for her satin pelisse, first of all to take a dinner on board the dear Laodamia, and then to suffer themselves to be rowed round St. Helen's in the captain's own boat, gallantly manned by the officers of the ship. Small enjoyment had Mrs. Lacy, in fear of her life, or the stately Honoria, in care for her finery; but Sophy, in a white gown and a straw bonnet, thinking nothing of herself or of her dress, but wholly absorbed by a keen and vivid interest in the detail of a sailor's life-in admiration of the order and cleanliness that everywhere met her eye, (always the first point of astonishment to a landswoman,) and in a still more intense feeling of pleasure and wonder at the careless good-huinour of those lords of the ocean, bold as lions to their enemies, playful as kittens to their friends, was full of delight. Nothing could equal her enthusiasm for the navy. The sailors, who, like dogs and children and women, and all other creatures who have not spoilt their fine natural instinct by an overcultivation of the reasoning powers, are never mistaken in the truth of a feeling, and never taken in by its assumption, perceived it at once, and repaid it by the most unfeigned and zealous devotion. They took all possible care of Mrs. Lacy and Miss Manning, as women, and ladies, and friends of their Captain; but Miss Sophy was the girl for them. They actually preferred her pretty face to the figurehead of the Laodamia. "I may like her," said the captain, "but I shall never love any woman but one;" and then followed in full form, the declaration and the acceptance. "I am so glad that you are not the heiress," added Captain Lyndham, after repeating to her her cousin's jesting permission to him to marry which of his wards he liked best; "I am so glad that you are not the heiress!" "Are you?” said Sophy, quietly. “Now I should have thought that you, thorough sportsman as you are, for a sailor," added Sophy, slyly, "would have liked Sanbury Manor, with its right of shooting, coursing, and fishing, and its glorious Wye river. You would like Sanbury Manor." 66 Hang Sanbury Manor !" exclaimed the captain. 66 Nay," said Sophy, "it's a pretty place, and a pretty house; one of those old-fashioned houses that fall upon the eye like a picture. The very lodge at Sanbury is beautiful. You must not take an aversion to Sanbury." "I should like any place that had been your home, pretty or ugly," replied Captain Lyndham; "or, rather, I should think any house pretty that you lived in. But, neverAnd Captain Lyndham, himself an enthusi-theless, I am heartily glad that you are not the ast for his profession, what thought he of this enthusiasm for the sea, and the navy, and that frigate of frigates, the Laodamia? Did he like it the less because he might honestly suspect that some little reference to himself had strengthened and quickened this deep in heiress of Sanbury, because I have been so fortunate with prizes, and you seem so simple in your tastes, that I have enough for both of us; and now no one can even suspect me of being mercenary-of thinking of any thing or any body but your own dear self." "I should not have suspected you," said Sophy, tenderly ; but you must go to Sanbury, and look at the old place, my home for so many years; you promise me that?" "Yes," replied the captain, "but it must be with Sophy Lyndham, and not with Sophy Manning;"-and, in spite of Sophy's blushing "must, indeed!" so it was settled! They were all to go to London, to which the affairs of his ship and prize now called the captain. There they were to be married; and on their return from a bridal excursion to Bath, and Clifton, and Wales, were to pay a short visit to Mrs. Lacy and Honor, at the old manor-house, which had for so many years been the fair bride's only home. Mrs. Lacy, on being apprized of the intended marriage, began talking about money and settlements, and those affairs which, to persons not in love, seem so important; but Captain Lyndham stopped her, and Sophy stopped her; and as, in a letter to Captain Manning, the generous sailor desired that writings might be prepared, by which all that he was worth in the world should be settled on Sophy and her children and as these settlements, read over by the lawyer in the usual unintelligible manner, were signed by the enamoured seaman without the slightest examination, it was impossible for any guardian to object to conduct so confiding and so liberal. "Oh, that poor Jack could see this day!" was Captain Lyndham's exclamation, as they were leaving London after the happy ceremony, in his own elegant new carriage, attended, somewhat to his surprise, by the lady's maid, whom he had thought exclusively devoted to the service of Miss Manning,-"Oh, that poor Jack could see this day! — you must make acquaintance with him, Sophy, and with my good aunt, and Mr. Singleton. You must know them, Sophy; they will so adore you!" "And I shall so love the people whom you love," rejoined Sophy: but we have no room for bridal talk, and must hasten to the conclusion of our story. After a few days of rapid travelling,-short days they seemed to the married lovers,-after a very brief tour, for the bridegroom's time was limited, they arrived at the beautiful village of Sanbury. "There it is-the dear manor-house!" exclaimed Sophy, as they approached a fine old building, embosomed in its own venerable oaks, the silver Wye winding like a shining snake amid the woody hills and verdant lawns; "There it is!" exclaimed the fair bride; "mine own dear home! and your home, too, my own dear husband! for, being mine, it is yours," continued she, with a smile that would have made a man overlook a greater misfortune than that of having married an heiress. "You are really the master of Sanbury, think of it what you may," pursued the fair bride. "It is my first deceit, and shall be my last. But when I found that, because Honoria was the elder, you took her for the richer cousin, I could not resist the temptation of this little surprise; and if you are angry, there," pointing to the side of the road,"sits one who will plead for me." And suddenly, from the beautiful Gothic lodge, the gate belonging to which had been so arranged as to open with a pulley, arose the well-known sounds, "Here am I, poor Jack, Just come home from sea, Pray what d'ye think of me?" And there sat poor Jack himself in all his glory, waving his hat over his grey head, with the tears streaming down his honest cheeks, absolutely tipsy with joy. And before Captain Lyndham had suffciently recovered from his astonishment to speak a word-indeed, whilst he was stil clasping his lovely wife to his own warm heart, the carriage had reached the mansion, on the steps of which stood, in one happy group, her people and his; Captain Manning, Mrs. Lacy, and Honor, (then really beautiful in her smiling sympathy,) Mr. Singleton, (who, by good-luck, had just returned to England,) Mrs. Martin, and the little maid Patty, standing behind on the upper step, and looking two inches taller in her joy and delight. So much for the Sailor's Wedding. There can be no need to say that the married life which sprang from such a beginning was as happy as it was prosperous. COUNTRY EXCURSIONS. SOME celebrated writer (was it Addison?) cites, as a proof of the instinctive love of the country, which seems implanted in the human breast, the fact, that the poorest inhabitants of great cities cherish in their wretched garrets or cellars some dusty myrtle or withering geranium, something that vegetates and should be green; so that you shall see in the meanest window of the meanest street some flower or flowering plant stuck in a piece of broken crockery, a true and genuine tribute to that inherent love of nature which makes a part of our very selves. I never see such a symptom of the yearning after green fields without recognising the strong tie of fellowfeeling with the poor inmate; and the more paltry the plant, the more complete and perfect is the sympathy. · There is a character in one of the old plays, (I think “The Jovial Crew," by Ben Jonson's servant, Broome,) who conducts himself like a calm, sedate, contented justice's clerk ali the winter, but who, at the first sign of spring, |