ngers hasten down below, and one who requested the
captain to stow him away. But it was not a pen-and-ink affair; it was a
case of burglary. The officer has found his man in the steerage--the
handcuffs are on his wrists, and they are rowing him ashore. His wife
and two children are on board; her lips quiver as she collects her
baggage to follow her husband. One half-hour more, and he would have
escaped from justice, and probably have led a better life in a far
country, where his crimes were unknown. By the bye, Greenacre, the man
who cut the woman up, was taken out of the ship as she went down the
river: he had very nearly escaped. What cargoes of crime, folly, and
recklessness do we yearly ship off to America! America ought to be very
much obliged to us.

The women of the steerage are persuading the wife of the burglar not to
go on shore; their arguments are strong, but not strong enough against
the devoted love of a woman.--"Your husband is certain to be hung;
what's the use of following him? Your passage is paid, and you will
have no difficulty in supporting your children in America." But she
rejects the advice--goes down the side, and presses her children to her
breast, as, overcome with the agony of her feelings, she drops into the
boat; and, now that she is away from the ship, you hear the sobs, which
can no longer be controlled.

10 a.m.--"All hands up anchor."

I was repeating to myself some of the stanzas of Mrs Norton's "Here's a
Health to the Outward-bound," when I cast my eyes forward.

I could not imagine what the seamen were about; they appeared to be
_pumping_, instead of heaving, at the windlass. I forced my way through
the heterogeneous mixture of human beings, animals, and baggage which
crowded the decks, and discovered that they were working a patent
windlass, by Dobbinson--a very ingenious and superior invention. The
seamen, as usual, lightened their labour with the song and chorus,
forbidden by the etiquette of a man-of-war. The one they sung was
peculiarly musical, although not refined; and the chorus of "Oh! Sally
Brown," was given with great emphasis by the whole crew between every
line of the song, sung by an athletic young third mate. I took my seat
on the knight-heads--turned my face aft--looked and listened.

"Heave away there, forward."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"`Sally Brown--oh! my dear Sally.'" (Single voice).

"`Oh! Sally Brown.'" (Chorus).

"`Sally Brown, of Buble Al-