might your cargo consist of? You
appear to be light."

"Not so light neither, I guess," said the man; "we have sweet-oil,
raisins, and what we calls notions."

"I have no notion," said I, "what they might be. Pray explain
yourself."

"Why you see, notions is what we call a little of all sorts like. Some
likes one thing, you know, and some another: some likes sweet almonds,
and some likes silk, and some likes opium, and some" (he added, with a
cunning grin) "likes dollars."

"And are these the notions with which you are loaded?" said I.

"I guess they are," replied Jonathan.

"And what might your outward cargo have been?" said I.

"Salt fish, flour, and tobacco," was his answer.

"And is this all you have in return?" I asked. "I thought the Smyrna
trade had been a very good one."

"Well, so it is," said the unwary Yankee. "Thirty thousand dollars in
the cabin, besides the oil and the rest of the goods, ain't no bad
thing."

"I am very glad to hear of the dollars," said I.

"What odds does that make to you?" said the captain; "it won't be much
on 'em as'll come to your share."

"More than you may think," said I. "Have you heard the news as you came
along?"

At the word "news," the poor man's face became the colour of one in the
jaundice. "What news?" said he, in a state of trepidation that hardly
admitted of utterance.

"Why, only that your president, Mr Madison, has thought fit to declare
war against England."

"You're only a joking?" said the captain.

"I give you my word of honour I am serious," said I; "and your vessel is
a prize to His Britannic Majesty's ship, the ---."

The poor man fetched a sigh from the waistband of his trousers. "I am a
ruined man," said he. "I only wish I'd known a little sooner of the war
you talk about: I've got two nice little guns there forward; you
shouldn't a had me so easily."

I smiled at his idea of resistance against a fast-sailing frigate of
fifty guns; but left him in the full enjoyment of his conceit, and
changing the subject, asked if he had anything he could give us to
drink, for the weather was very warm.

"No, I ha'n't," he replied, peevishly; "and if I had--"

"Come, come, my good fellow," said I, "you forget you are a prize;
civility is a cheap article, and may bring you a quick return."

"That's true," said Jonathan, who was touched on the nicest point--self;
"that's true, you are only a doing your duty. Here, boy, fetch up that
ere