n Lord Melbun, or Sir Robert Peal, or any one of the
insiders or outsiders ever could or ever can say of theirselves.

That's what I said _then_,--but now I think, what a cussed fool I was. All
my eye-flown bubbles were fated to be busted and melted, like the _wigs_,
"into thin _hair_."

_Nong port!_ We gets wiser as we gets * * *

Genteel Reader,--I beg your parding. I'm better now. Bless me, how the ship
waggles! It's reelly hawful; the sailors only laff at it, but I suppose as
they're all _tars_ they don't mind being _pitched_ a little.

The capting tells me we are now reglarly at see, having just passt the
North 4 land; so, ackording to custom, I begin my journal, or, as
naughtical men call it--to keep my log.

_12 o'clock._--Wind.--All in my eye. Mate said we had our larburd tax
aboard--never herd of that tax on shore. Told me I should learn to box the
compass--tried, but couldn't do it--so boxt the cabbing boy insted. Capting
several times calld to a man who was steering--"_Port, port_;" but though
he always anserd, "Eye, eye, sir," he didn't bring him a drop. The black
cook fell into the hold on the topp of his hed. Everybody sed he was gone
to Davy Jones's locker; but he warn't, for he soon came to again, drank 1/2
a pint of rumm, and declared it was--

[Illustration: THE REAL BLACK REVIVER.]

Saw a yung salor sitting on the top of one of the masts--thort of Dibdings
faymos see-song, and asked if he warn't

"The sweet little cherub that sits up aloft?"

Man laff'd, and said it wor only Bill Junk clearing the pennant halliards.

_1 o'clock._--Thort formerly that every sailer wore his pigtale at the back
of his head, like Mr. Tippy Cook--find I labored under a groce
mistake--they all carry their pigtale in their backy-boxes. When I beheld
the sailors working and heaving, and found that I was also beginning to
heave-too, I cuddn't help repeting the varse of the old song--which fitted
my case egsactly:--

"There's the capt'n he is our kimmander,
There's the bos'n and all the ship's crew,
There's the married men as well as the single,
Ken-ows what we poor sailors goes through."

However, I made up my mind not to look inward on my own wose any longer, so
I put my head out of a hole in the side of the ship--and, my wiskers! how
she did whizz along. Saw the white cliffs of Halbion a long way off, wich
brought tiers in my i, thinking of those I had left behind, particular
Sall