nt-surgeons, and pale
young ensigns who played the flute. The midshipmen feasted and feared.
The major and the doctor kept on the "even tenor of their way," that is,
they ate and drank _a l'envi_.

We will now suppose the King's health drank, with the hearty and loyal,
God bless him! from every lip--the navy drank, and thanks returned by
the doctor, with his mouth full of vegetable marrow--the army drank, and
thanks returned by the major, after clearing his throat with a bumper of
brandy--and after "Rule Britannia" had ceased echoing along the now
silent esplanade, and that had been thundered forth with such energy by
the black band, an awful pause ensues. Our first-lieutenant of marines
rises, and, like conscience, "with a still small voice," thus delivers
himself of the anxiety with which his breast was labouring.

"Major Flushfire, may I claim the privilege of the similar colour of our
cloth to entreat the favour of your attention? Ah! heh!--but this land
breeze-laden, perhaps, with the germs of the yellow-fever--mephitic--and
all that--you understand me, Dr Thompson?"

"As much as you do yourself."

"Thank you--men of superior education--sympathy--and all that--you
understand me fully, major. Now this night-breeze coming through that
half-open jalousie--miasmata--and all that. Dr Armstrong, Dr
Thompson--medical pill--`pillars of the state'--you will pardon the
classical allusion--"

"I won't," growled out the doctor.

"Ah--so like you--so modest--but don't you think the draught is a little
dangerous?"

"Do you mean the doctor's, or this?" said the inattentive and thirsty
major, fetching a deep breath, as he put down the huge glass tumbler of
sangaree.

"Oh dear, no!--I mean the night draught _through_ the window."

"The best way to dispose of it," said the purser, nodding at the melting
Galen.

"No," replied Major Flushfire, courteously, "there's no danger in it at
all--I like it."

"Bless me, major," said the marine, "why it comes all in _gusts_."

"Like it all the better," rejoined the major, with his head again half
buried in the sangaree glass.

"_Degustibus non est disputandum_," observed Thompson.

"Very true," said the marine officer, looking sapiently. "That remark
of yours about the _winds_ is opposite. We ought to _dispute_ their
entrance, as you said in Latin. But is it quite fair, my dear doctor,
for you and me to converse in Latin? We may be taking an undue
advantage of the r