tters supposed); and it perched on one of the yards to
rest and recover itself after its long flight.

The instant the creature was discovered, the insatiable Anglo-Saxon
delight in killing birds, from the majestic eagle to the contemptible
sparrow, displayed itself in its full frenzy. The crew ran about the
decks, the passengers rushed into their cabins, eager to seize the first
gun and to have the first shot. An old quarter-master of the _Aquila_
was the enviable man, who first found the means of destruction ready to
his hand. He lifted the gun to his shoulder, he had his finger on the
trigger, when he was suddenly pounced upon by one of the passengers--a
young, slim, sunburnt, active man--who snatched away the gun,
discharged it over the side of the vessel, and turned furiously on the
quarter-master. "You wretch! would you kill the poor weary bird that
trusts our hospitality, and only asks us to give it a rest? That little
harmless thing is as much one of God's creatures as you are. I'm ashamed
of you--I'm horrified at you--you've got bird-murder in your face; I
hate the sight of you!"

The quarter-master--a large grave fat man, slow alike in his bodily and
his mental movements--listened to this extraordinary remonstrance with
a fixed stare of amazement, and an open mouth from which the unspat
tobacco-juice tricked in little brown streams. When the impetuous young
gentleman paused (not for want of words, merely for want of breath),
the quarter-master turned about, and addressed himself to the audience
gathered round. "Gentlemen," he said, with a Roman brevity, "this young
fellow is mad."

The captain's voice checked the general outbreak of laughter. "That will
do, quarter-master. Let it be understood that nobody is to shoot the
bird--and let me suggest to _you,_ sir, that you might have expressed
your sentiments quite as effectually in less violent language."

Addressed in those terms, the impetuous young man burst into another fit
of excitement. "You're quite right, sir! I deserve every word you
have said to me; I feel I have disgraced myself." He ran after the
quartermaster, and seized him by both hands. "I beg your pardon; I beg
your pardon with all my heart. You would have served me right if you
had thrown me overboard after the language I used to you. Pray excuse
my quick temper; pray forgive me. What do you say? 'Let bygones _be_
bygones'? That's a capital way of putting it. You're a thorough good
fellow. I