n its sacred mysteries. It is a rabid
hour in a ship, and the wisest course, for all idlers, and all
watch-officers, who are not on duty, is to keep themselves under
hatches, if their convenience will possibly allow it. He who wears a
flag, however, is usually reposing in his cot, at this critical moment;
or, if risen at all, he is going through similar daily ablutions of his
own person.

Admiral Bluewater was in the act of opening his eyes, when the splash of
the first bucket of water was heard on the deck of the Caesar, and he lay
in the species of enjoyment which is so peculiar to naval men, after
they have risen to the station of commander; a sort of semi-trance, in
which the mind summons all the ancient images, connected with squalls;
reefing top-sails in the rain; standing on the quarter of a yard,
shouting "haul out to leeward;" peering over the weather hammock-cloths
to eye the weather, with the sleet pricking the face like needles;--and,
washing decks! These dreamy images of the past, however, are summoned
merely to increase the sense of present enjoyment. They are so many
well-contrived foils, to give greater brilliancy to the diamonds of a
comfortable cot, and the entire consciousness of being no longer exposed
to an untimely summons on deck.

Our rear-admiral, nevertheless, was not a vulgar dreamer, on such
occasions. He thought little of personal comforts at any time, unless
indeed when personal discomforts obtruded themselves on his attention;
he knew little, or nothing, of the table, whereas his friend was a
knowing cook, and in his days of probation had been a distinguished
caterer; but he was addicted to a sort of dreaming of his own, even when
the sun stood in the zenith, and he was walking the poop, in the midst
of a circle of his officers. Still, he could not refrain from glancing
back at the past, that morning, as plash after plash was heard,
and recalling the time when _magna pars quorum_ FUIT. At this
delectable instant, the ruddy face of a "young gentleman" appeared in
his state-room door, and, first ascertaining that the eyes of his
superior were actually open, the youngster said--

"A note from Sir Gervaise, Admiral Bluewater."

"Very well, sir,"--taking the note.--"How's the wind, Lord Geoffrey?"

"An Irishman's hurricane, sir; right up and down. Our first says, sir,
he never knew finer channel weather."

"Our first is a great astrologer. Is the fleet riding flood yet?"

"No, sir; it's