fore constructed, and a block with
a rope rove through it was hooked on to the main yardarm.
The horse was bent on, and the ceremony commenced by leading
the rope to the winch or capstan, and the song entitled "The
Dead Horse" was sung with great gusto. The funeral
procession as a rule was spun out a long time, and when the
horse was allowed to arrive at the yard arm the rope was
slipped and he fell into the sea amid much hilarity! The
verse which announces his death was as follows:--

"They say my horse is dead and gone;--
And they say so, and they say so!
They say my horse is dead and gone;--
Oh, poor old man!"

The verse which extinguishes him by dropping him into the
sea goes like this:--

"Then drop him to the depths of the sea;--
And they say so, and they say so!
Then drop him to the depths of the sea;--
Oh, poor old man!"

This finished the important event of the voyage; then began
many pledges of thrift to be observed for evermore, which
were never kept longer than the arrival at the next port, or
at the longest until the arrival at a home port, when
restraint was loosened. The same old habits were resumed,
and the same old month's advance was required before sailing
on another voyage.

The "White Stocking Day" was as great an event ashore as the
Dead Horse day was at sea. The sailors' wives, mothers, or
sweethearts always celebrated half-pay day by wearing white
stockings and by carrying their skirts discreetly high
enough so that it might be observed. This custom was carried
out with rigid regularity, and the participators were the
objects of sympathetic attraction. Poor things, there is no
telling what it cost them in anxiety to keep it up. Their
half-pay would not exceed thirty shillings per month, and
they had much to do with it, besides providing white
stockings and a suitable rig to grace the occasion.

"We're homeward bound and I hear the sound," was the
favourite song when heaving up the anchor preparatory to
pointing homeward. This chanty has a silken, melancholy, and
somewhat soft breeziness about it, and when it was well sung
its flow went fluttering over the harbour, which re-echoed
the joyous tidings until soloist and choristers alike became
entranced by the power of their own performances; and the
multitudes who on these occasions came to listen did not
escape the rapture of the fleeting throbs of harmony which
charged the atmosphere, and made