herefor!) are flogged at the cart's tail
when they pick and steal, as happened to one of the fair sex yesterday
noon. She was pertinacious in her behaviour, and damned the mayor.

"I don't know when I can write again, because it depends on that
experienced navigator, Captain Kidd, and the 'stormy winds that
(don't) blow' at this season. I leave England without regret--I shall
return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first convict
sentenced to transportation, but I have no Eve, and have eaten no
apple but what was sour as a crab;--and thus ends my first, chapter.
Adieu.

"Yours," &c.

In this letter the following lively verses were enclosed:--

"Falmouth Roads, June 30. 1809.

"Huzza! Hodgson, we are going,
Our embargo's off at last;
Favourable breezes blowing
Bend the canvass o'er the mast.
From aloft the signal's streaming,
Hark! the farewell gun is fired,
Women screeching, tars blaspheming,
Tell us that our time's expired.
Here 's a rascal,
Come to task all,
Prying from the Custom-house;
Trunks unpacking,
Cases cracking,
Not a corner for a mouse
'Scapes unsearch'd amid the racket,
Ere we sail on board the Packet.

"Now our boatmen quit their mooring.
And all hands must ply the oar;
Baggage from the quay is lowering,
We're impatient--push from shore.
'Have a care! that case holds liquor--
Stop the boat--I'm sick--oh Lord!'
'Sick, ma'am, damme, you'll be sicker
Ere you've been an hour on board.'
Thus are screaming
Men and women,
Gemmen, ladies, servants, Jacks;
Here entangling,
All are wrangling,
Stuck together close as wax.--
Such the general noise and racket,
Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet.

"Now we've reach'd her, lo! the captain,
Gallant Kidd, commands the crew;
Passengers their berths are clapt in,
Some to grumble, some to spew,
'Hey day! call you that a cabin?
Why 'tis hardly three feet square;
Not enough to stow Queen Mab in--
Who the deuce can harbour there?'
'Who, sir? plenty--
Nobles twenty
Did at once my vessel fill'--
'Did they? Jesus,
How you squeeze us!
Would to God they did so still:
Then I'd scape the heat and racket,
Of the good ship, Lisbon Packet.'

"Fletcher!