etween two sailors without injuring either. It did no further damage,
however, and when the crew turned to look at their enemy, they saw the
great ironclad in the act of sinking. In a few minutes nothing of her
was left above water except her masts. The crew were drowned, with the
exception of a few who escaped by swimming.

By this time it was daybreak, and our danger, within near range of the
other monitors, of course became very great. Just then an incident
occurred which might have proved fatal to us. Our screw fouled, and the
boat became unmanageable. Observing this, a Turkish launch from one of
the monitors bore down upon us. One of our sailors, who chanced to be a
good diver, jumped over the side and cleared the screw. Meanwhile the
men opened so heavy fire on the enemy's launch that she veered off, and
a few minutes later we were steaming down the Danube towards the place
from which the boats had set forth on their deadly mission.

"That was gloriously done, wasn't it?" said Nicholas to me with
enthusiasm, after the first blaze of excitement began to abate;--"one of
the enemy's biggest ironclads sent to the bottom, with all her crew, at
the trifling expense of two or three hundred pounds' weight of powder,
and not a man injured on our side!"

I looked earnestly in my friend's handsome face for a few seconds.

"Yes," said I, slowly; "many thousands of pounds' worth of human
property destroyed, months of human labour and ingenuity wasted, and
hundreds of young lives sacrificed, to say nothing of relatives bereaved
and souls sent into eternity before their time--truly, if _that_ is
glory, it has been gloriously done!"

"Bah! Jeff," returned Nicholas, with a smile; "you're not fit to live
in this world, you should have had a special one created for yourself.
But come, let me hear how you came to be voyaging _a la Boyton_ on the
Danube."

We at once began a rapid fire of question and reply. Among other
things, Nicholas informed me that the two boats which had accomplished
this daring feat were commanded by Lieutenants Dubasoff and Thestakoff,
one with a crew of fourteen, the other of nine, men.

"The world is changing, Nicholas," said I, as we landed. "That the
wooden walls of Old England have passed away has long been acknowledged
by every one, but it seems to me now that her iron walls are doomed to
extinction, and that ere long the world's war-navies will consist of
nothing but torpedo-boats, and