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her under sail with three lugs and a jib set, and the sheets trimm'd aftmy eyes! how she'd smack through the breeze, skimming the billow-tops like a flying fish as he dips to wet his wings and refresh him in his flight! Oh how sweetly she'd walk over the curling wave and climb the rolling swell. Why she could do any thing but speak, and every one of the crew loved her as his own, and tended her with the same affection that a fond mother would her darling child. But then what's the use of speechifying about it now?-she's broke up by this time, (though I'm glad I didn't see it, for every stroke of the axe would have gone to my heart;) and of the jovial lads that once manned her, some are cast like weatherbeaten shattered hulks adrift upon the Ocean of Distress, exposed to the windy storm and tempest, without a port in view or friendly barque to hail them in adversity. Ah, they think of the barge now, and on those times they will never see again, when they were called the jolly coach horses' that never flinched from their duty. Every soul was first captain of a gun; and our coxwain, Joe Snatchblock, was one of the finest fellows in the fleet, be the other where he wouldsix foot two inches without his shoes —a heart like a prince and the spirits of a lion-generous and brave. Why, Lord love you, Mr. What's-your-name, he was the very man as nailed the colours to the mast on board the Belly-quekes in Duncan's action. I thinks I sees him now. Up went the helm, and away he bore down right into the thick of it: slap comes a shot athwart the halliards, and down rattles the ensign. "Hurrah!" shouted Mynheer in exultation. "Dunder de Bloxam!" roared Joe from the gangway; and shaking his fist at the enemy, "Dunder de bloxam, but we'll give it you presently!" and then he ran aft, and rolling up the flag, tucked it under his arm, and skimmed aloft like a sky-rocket, while the musket-balls came pouring round him in leaden showers. Grape and cannister to the five aftmost guns, (cried the first Lieutenant;) point them well at the

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enemy's poop-watch the roll, and be ready, my men !"-" Aye, aye, Sir:" and we clapped the grapes into the still, and pressed them down with cannister, ramming all home with a vengeance. Rattle went a volley at Joe again, but we matched 'em for it in prime style; we smoked their manoeuvres and powdered their wigs. Yes, yes, our grape was squeezed into Win de grave for a good many—it damaged their upper works, and knocked away their understandings. Well, d'ye see, by this time Joe had got to the main-top-mast head with the ensign under his arm, the hammer betwixt his teeth, and the nails in his pocket; so he shoves one through the head of the flag, just below the toggle, and drives it into the mast above the cross-trees. Down he comes about half a dozen rattlins, and in went another nail, and so on till he descended to the main cap, where he took a severe turn with the tack, and hammered all fast. At this moment all hands at their quarters were casting one eye aloft, and the other at their gun, like a crow peeping into a pitcher, or a goose at a thunder-cloud. "Huzza!" roared Joe, as he threw out the fly of the ensign, which catching the breeze, waved majestically above us, floating in grandeur, like the Genius of Britain soaring on the wings of Victory. "Huzza!" shouted Joe again, slueing his starn to the Dutchman, and slapping his hand in an inexpressible attitude, while they returned the salute with a round of musketry that, had he not been bomb proof, must have knocked him off his perch. "Huzza!" responded the main and quarter decks; the lowerdeck caught the soul-enlivening strain, and three hearty cheers resounded from all hands. At it we went again, like fighting-cocks, for, d'ye see, we expected some of the right sort in the prizes-real right arnest Schiedam Ginever. At it we went, while Joe came sliding down the top-mast backstay like a cat. "Weel behaved, my mon, weel behaved! (said the captain-he was a Scotchman, though his name was English.) Troth ye've the spirit of a Highlander. Bring the

warthy soul a glass o' grog; or mayhap you would like it pure and uncontaminated." Joe preferred the stuff stark naked with the jacket off, and standing on the break of the poop, he held it up to mortify the Dutchman; but fearing an envious shot might crack the heart of his darling, he turned his back by way of protection, and stowed it away in his spirit-room in an instant. Well, d'ye see, we lay close alongside, locked yard-arm and yard-arm, and hammered away round and grape, great guns and small arms, till Mynheer Van Scatterbrauckens dropped the tackle-falls, mounted their pipes, and thrusting their hands into the breeches pockets of their small-clothes, showed they had surrendered. Ah, Duncan was the boy! He was none of your butterfly gentry-only fit for a summer's cruise. He out-Witt-ed the whole of 'em, conquered Winter, and hoisted his ensign as the flag of Liberty. Mayhap, Mr. What's-your-name, you never saw him, with his open manly countenance, expressive of true courage and benevolence, and his curling locks flowing gracefully over his head;

A furious lion in battle-so let him;
But, duty appeased, in mercy a lamb.

Yes, he'd a heart that could feel for another and there's not a Tar in Greenwich moorings but reverences his name, for he was their father and their friend but he's gone as the chaplain used to tell us,) he's gone the way of all flesh, and poor Joe, too, has lost the number of his mess. He was made a Boatswain before his death, and then he got married; for he said a Boatswain's warrant wan't worth a rush without the parson's splieed to the end on't, and no Boatswain could carry on duty without a mate. But, somehow or other, it proved a misfortunate appointment; for Mrs. Snatchblock, as soon as the commission was read, topp'd the officer over him, and wanted to be Master. "No, no, (says he) Mrs. S., every man to his station, and the cook by the main-sheet. I've fought for my rating, and I'll keep it." But, bless ATHENEUM VOL. 2. 2d series.

21

your heart, what's the use of boasting when the ladies are determined to

have their own way, why, d'ye see, she fought for it too; and as for rating, why she'd rate him all day long, till at last poor Joe gave in; and it was found one morning that he had died in his birth, without a friendly hand to close his sky-lights. I can remember him when he used to sit in the box abaft the skipper, smiling and happy as long as he could see every one else so. After he left the Bellyquekes, he was Coxswain to Tommy P-, when he commanded the Le Juste, and was a great favourite with his captain. One 4th of June (that's the King's birth-day-good old George that's dead and gone,) all the senior officers of the fleet went ashore from Spithead, rigged out in full uniform, to pay their respects to the commander-in-chief. The tide was ebbing strong out of Portsmouth harbour, and many of the boats landed their captains upon South Sea Beach. Capt. P-was one of the number; and he and Joe made sail for the admiral's house, through the arched gateway under the ramparts. Well, just as they hauled their wind round the corner by the Marine Barracks, an immense monster of a drayman, with a sack of wet grains on his shoulder, run designedly right aboard of the Captain, and plastered his gold laced coat with sanctum smearem. This was abominably provoking; so Tommy hove too, and remonstrated with the fellow on his brutality, but he only answered with a volley of curses and abuse. Up comes Joe, like a first rate with a free sheet, lightens the gemman of his cargo, and capsizes him without so much as by your leave. Howsomever, up he roused again in a minute, and Joe stood all ready to strap a block with him; but, "hold, avast! (cried P-) the quarrel's mine; I want no man to fight for me. As for you, y' unmannerly scoundrel, I'll-; but come along, come along ;" and so he cotched hold of his arm, and some of the marines the other, and took him into the barrack-yard. A ring was formed, and

when the fellow found 'twas in earn- lapp'd him on the nose, and that was

est, he began to mumble excuses, like a witch saying her prayers. "No, no, (says Tommy) you insulted me like a blackguard, and now you shall have blackguard's play for it." So he unbuckles his sword, and dowses his coat and hat, while the drayman stripped ship to bare-poles. Joe claimed the honour of standing by this officer, and took his station second-him-heart-him, as they say in the classics; and a companion performed the same office for his opponent, who expected to make a mere plaything of the captain, and displayed his two enormous fists, like a couple of sixty-eight pounders: but he little thought who he had to deal with. The first round the skipper made him hop; for though the brewer was by far the more powerful man, and showed ribs like a seventy-four, yet Tommy possessed science, and worked round him like a cooper round a cask, making his mash-tub rattle again. Round after round followed to the great amusement of the Royals, and the heady-fication of the brewer, who began to get all in a work, and couldn't give it vent. At last, in the fourteenth round, Tommy

a cooler (one of his eyes was already bunged up,) so he drew off and gave in, after being soundly thrashed to his heart's content. The captain clapped on his rigging again, and bore up for one of the officer's births, where he got his forecastle swabb'd and his gear refitted; and then off he set again, with a comely black eye, to wait upon the admiral. The tale was told, and orders about to be issued for a warrant to apprehend the man; but Captain P-(who considered he had already received punishment enough) requested that he might be left to his own painful roomynations and the cure of his bruises. But I have been spinning you a long yarn, Mr. What's-your-name, and all about nothing, for the barge's crew was what I meant to talk about. Ah! that's the subject nearest my heart; it connects all the remembrances of early life and old friends. Howsomever, I shall see you again, and then you shall have all their histories from beginning to end.

AN OLD SAILOR.*

*At this dead time of the year, we take up our lively "Old Sailor" again with pleasure; and we dare hope that his Barge's Crew will be welcome to our friends. So let him show them up, as he says, after the classics, "second-him heart-him."-Ed.

FACETIE BIBLIOGRAPHICE.

OR,

The Old English Jesters.

A BANQVET OF IEAS TS. OR CHANGE OF CHEARE. BEING A COLLECTION OF

MODERNE JESTS

WITTY JEERES

PLEASANT TAUNTS

MERRY TALES

NEUER BEFORE IMPRINTED. LONDON, PRINT-
ED FOR RICHARD ROYSTON, AND ARE TO BE

SOLD AT HIS SHOP IN IVIELANE NEXT THE
EXCHEQUER-OFFICE. 1630. Duodecimo, con-
taining 192 pages, besides title, index, and
preliminary matter, 22.

The following extracts are taken from the first edition.

Of a Country Man and a Constable. (1.)

A simple country-man hauing terme business in London, and being somewhat late abroad in the night, was staid by a consta

ble, and somewhat harshly entreated. The poore man obseruing how imperiously he

commanded him, demanded of him what hee was? to whom he replyed, "I am the constable, and this is my watch." "And I pray you, sir, for whom watch you?" saith the man. "Marry (answered the constable,) I watch for the king." "For the king" replyes he againe simply, "then I beseech you, sir, that I may pass quietly and peaceably by you to my lodg ing, for I can bring you a certificate from some of my neighbours who are now in towne, that I am no such man.

A Young Heire. (14.)

A young heire not yet come to age, but desirous to bee suited with other gallants, modities to the purpose, the creditor deand to bee furnisht with money and commanded his bond: hee granted it conditionally, that his father should not know of it, Vpon this promise all things were concludtherefore wisht it to bee done very priuately. ed, and the time came when he should

seale it. But when hee beganne to read in the beginning of the bond nouerint vniversi-Bee it knowne vnto all men-he cast away the bond, and absolutely refused to seale it, saying, "if it be knowne vnto all men, how can it possibly bee, but it must come to my father's ears ?"

One travelling to Rome. (22.)

A gentleman of England trauelling with his man to Rome, desirous to see all fashions, but especially such rarities as were there to be seene, was, by the mediation of some friends there resident, admitted into the Pope's presence; to whom his holinesse offered his foote to kisse, which the gentle man did with great submission and reuerence. This his man seeing, and not before acquainted with the like ceremony, presently makes what speed he can to get out of the presence; which some of the wayters espying, and suspecting his hast, stayd him, and demanded the cause of his so suddaine speed; but the more they importune him, the more he prest to be gone: but being further vrged, he made this short answer-truely, saith he, this is the cause of my feare, that if they compell my mas

ter, being a gentleman, to kisse the Pope's foote, I feare what part they will make me kisse, being but his serving man.

A young Master of Arts. (44.)

A young master of art the very next day after the commencement, hauing his course to common place in the chappell, where were diuers that the day before had took their degree, tooke his text out of the eighth chapter of Iob, the words were these ; "We are but of yesterday, and know nothing." This text (saith he) doth fitly diuide it selfe into two branches, our standing, and our understanding ; our standing in these words, wee are but of yesterday, our vnderstanding, we know nothing.

A Welch Reader. (116.)

A Welchman reading the chapter of the genealogie, where Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, ere he came to the midst hee found the names so difficult, that he broke off in these words-" and so they begat one another till they came to the end of the chapter."

ORIGINAL POETRY.

I cannot love yon gentle flow'r,
E'en though it looks so soft and fair:
Its silvery hue recalls an hour
Which memory has not learn'd to bear.

I hear them praise its beauteous form,
Its snowy vest, and drooping head;
And feel that once it could adorn

The clay-cold breast of CATHRINE dead.*

Then Fancy pictures all the past,

The death-bed scene, the dying groan; The face, where beauty fled so fast;

The eye, whose every beam was flown ; The placid smile; the marble brow, Shaded with dark and glossy hair ; The lips, where life's last feeble glow Had left the rose expiring there.

They deck'd with flowers the silent clay;
With sweetest herbs the coffin drest;

In her cold hand the jasmine lay,
The Lily wither'd on her breast.

I gaz'd upon my sister's face,

And trembling stood in fear and dread: Nothing of CATH'RINE could I trace In that pale form, so still and dead.

THE LILY.

- The author's elder sister, who died in the 18th year of her age.

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LOCAL SUPERSTITIONS.

Ob monstrous-oh strange--we are haunted!
Pray, masters, fly-masters, help!—Mid. Night's Dr.

-some

TH HERE is something good humored in Irish superstitionthing qui donne de la joie dans la peur. We have no witches-none of those ugly, ill favoured, earthly realities, which brutalize and stupify the minds of a portion of our own boors; but there is scarce a hill, a lough, a dingle, a fort, or an old ruin, which does not call up within the peasant's mind some wild and poetically fearful

association.

Knuck Fierna.

The hill of the fairies. This is the loftiest mountain in the county of Limerick, and lifts its double peak on the Southern side, pretty accurately, I believe, dividing it from Cork. Numberless are the tales related of this hill by the carmen who have been benighted near it on their return from the latter city, which is the favourite market for the produce of their dairies. That there is a Siobrug or fairy castle in the Mount, no one in his senses presumes to entertain a doubt. On the summit of the highest peak is an unfathomable well, which is held in very great veneration by the peasantry. It is by some supposed to be the entrance to the court of their tiny mightinesses. A curious fellow at one time had the hardihood to cast a stone down the orifice; and then casting himself on his face and hands, and leaning over the brink, waited to ascertain the falsity of this supposition by the reverberation, which he doubt ed not would soon be occasioned by the missile reaching the bottom. But he met with a fate scarcely less tragical than that of poor Pug, who set fire to the match of a cannon, and then must needs run to the mouth to see the shot go off. Our speculator had his messenger returned to him with a force that broke the bridge of his nose, locked up both his eyes,

and sent him down the hill at the rate of four furlongs per second, at

less next morning.
the foot of which he was found sense-

King Finvar's* Cattle.

Between this mountain and the river Shannon there is a small lake, concerning which a very extraordinary report was circulated a few years back. Some people indeed may imagine it a little too improbable to lend a very ready credence to it, but I can assure them that its veracity was not even questioned at the time it took place. The lake or lough to which I allude is a very pretty one, by a piece of ugly bog. On the East, although it is disfigured on one side it is overlooked by a hill which makes but the slope is delightfully covered a very sudden descent on its bank; with mountain ash, birch, and hazel trees, so as to form a very pleasant contrast to the dreary flat opposite. At the northern end of the water, among patches of rude crag, and occasional spots of green, a few thatched hovels or cabins are huddled together, so as to form a something indescribably miserable in appearance, which is dignified with the appellation of a vil lage: it is called Killimicat. Not very far from this, and on the borders of the lake-But what are these stories worth if taken out of the mouth of the original narrator? I shall give this to you as I had it myself:—“ You see that little meadow there overright us, Sir,-that was the little spot that Morty Shannon took from the master.

then, and very well to do there, as I Morty was a snug sculog hear; but a stronger man than he was could not stand any thing of a loss in such times as they were. Morty wondered what was it that used to spoil the growth of his meadow. There was no sign of trespass from the neighbours, for the bounds were good, and their cattle were all spancelled. But so it was: sorrow bit of grass did he ever cut on the field for

* A famous fairy monarch.

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