garrison, at the top of the table, all scarlet and gold, and our own dear Doctor Thompson, all scarlet and blue, at the bottom. These two gentlemen were wonderfully alike. The major's scarlet was not confined to his regimentals: it covered his face. There was not a cool spot in that flame-coloured region; the yellow of his eyes was blood-shot, and his nose was richly Bardolphian. The expression of his features was thirst; but it was a jovial thirst withal-a thirst that burned to be supplied, encouraged, pampered. The very idea of water was repugnant to it. Hydrophobia was written upon the major's brow. We have described our rubicund doctor before. He always looked warm, but since his entrance into the tropics, he had been more than hot, he had been always steaming. There was almost a perceptible mist about him. His visage possessed not the adust scorch of the major's; his was a moist heat; his cheeks were constantly parboiling in their own perspiration. He was a meet croupier for our host. Ranged on each side of this noble pair were the long lines of very pale and anxious faces, (I really must except my own, for my face never looked anxious till I married, or pale till I took to scribbling,) the possessors of which were experiencing a little the torment of Tantalus. The palisades, those graves of sand, turned into a rich compost by the ever-recurring burial, were directly under the windows, and the land-breeze came over them, chill and dank, in palpable currents, through the jalousies into the heated room; and had any one thrust his head into the moonlight and looked beneath, he would have seen hundreds of the shell-clad vampires, upon their long and contorted legs, moving hideously round, and scrambling horribly over the newly-made mounds, each of which contained the still fresh corpse of a warrior, or of the land, or of the ocean. In a small way, your land-crab is a most indefatigable resurrectionist. But there is retribution for their villany. They get eaten in their turn. Delicate feeding they are doubtlessly; and there can be no manner of question, but that at that memorable dinner a double banquet was going on, upon a most excellent principle of reciprocity. The epicure crab was feeding upon the dish, man, below, whilst epicure man was feeding upon dished-up crab above. True, the guests knew it not; I mean those who did not wear testaceous armour; the gentlemen in the coat of mail knew very well what they were about. It was, at the time of which I am speaking, a standing joke to make Johnny Newcome eat land-crab disguised as some savory dish. Thank God, that was more than a quarter of a century ago. We trust that the social qualities and the culinary refinements of the West Indians do not now march à l'ecrivisse and progress à reculons. There we all sate, prudence coqueting with appetite, and the finest yellow curries contending with the direst thoughts of yellow fever. Ever and anon some amiable youth would dash off a bumper of claret with an air of desperate bravery, and then turn pale at the idea of his own temerity. The most cautious were Scotch assistant-surgeons, and pale young ensigns who played the flute. The midshipmen feasted and feared. The major and the doctor kept on the "even tenor of their way," that is, they ate and drank à l'envie. We will now suppose the king's health drank, with the hearty and loyal God bless him! from every lip-the navy drank, and thanks returned by the doctor, with his mouth full of vegetable marrow-the army drank, and thanks returned by the major, after clearing his throat with a bumper of brandy-and after "Rule Britannia" had ceased echoing along the now silent esplanade, that had been thundered forth with such energy by the black band, an awful pause ensues. Our first lieutenant of marines rises, and like conscience, "with a still small voice," thus delivers himself of the anxiety with which his breast was labouring. 66 Major Flushfire, may I claim the privilege of the similar colour of our cloth to entreat the favour of your attention. Ah! heh !but this land-breeze-laden, perhaps, with the germs of the yellowfever-mephitic-and all that-you understand me, Dr. Thompson ?" "As much as you do yourself." "Thank you-men of superior education-sympathy-and all that you understand me fully, major. Now this night-breeze coming through that half-open jalousie-miasmata-and all that. Dr. Armstrong, Dr. Thompson-medical pill-" pillars of the state" you'll pardon the classical allusion "I won't," growled out the doctor. "Ah-so like you-so modest-but don't you think the draught is a little dangerous?" "Do you mean the doctor's, or this?" said the inattentive and thirsty major, fetching a deep breath, as he put down the huge glass tumbler of sangaree. "O dear no!-I mean the night draught through the window." "The best way to dispose of it," said the purser, nodding at the melting Galen. "No," replied Major Flushfire courteously, "there's no danger in it at all-I like it." "Bless me, major!" said the marine, "why it comes all in gusts!" "Like it all the better," rejoined the major, with his head again half buried in the sangaree glass. "De gustibus, non est disputandum," observed Thompson. "Very true," said the marine officer, looking sapiently. "That remark of yours about the winds is apposite. We ought to dispute their entrance, as you said in Latin. But is it quite fair, my dear doctor, for you and me to converse in Latin? We may be taking an undue advantage of the rest of the company.' "Greek! Greek!" said the purser. 66 Aye, certainly-it was Greek to Mr. Smallcoates," muttered Thompson. "To be sure it was," said the innocent marine. 2. Major Flushfire," continued he, again on his legs," may I again entreat the honour of your attention. Dr. Thompson has just proved, by a quotation from a Greek author, Virgil or Paracelsus, I am not certain which, that the entrance of the night air into a hot room is highly injurious, and in—in—and all that. You understand me perfectly-would it be asking too much to have all the windows closed?" "Ovens and furnaces!" cried out the chairman, starting up. "Look at me and worthy Doctor Thompson. Are we persons to enjoy a repetition of the Blackhole of Calcutta? The sangaree, Quasha-suffocation! The thought chokes me!" and he recommenced his devotions to the sangaree. "It melts me," responded the doctor, swabbing his face with the napkin. "Are you afraid of taking cold?" said the purser to Mr. Small coates. "Taking cold-let the gentleman take his wine," said the major. "I must confess I am not so much afraid of cold as of fever. I believe, major, you have been three years in this very singularly hot and cold climate. Now, my dear sir, may I tax your experience to tell us which is the better method of living? Some say temperance, carried out even to abstemiousness, is the safer; others, that the fever is best repelled by devil's punch, burnt brandy, and high living. Indeed, I may say that I speak at the request of my messmates. Do, major, give us your opinion." "I think," said the man of thirst," the medical gentlemen should be applied to in preference to an old soldier like myself. They have great practice in disposing of fever cases." "But if we must die either of diet or the doctor, I am for knowing," said the purser, "what sort of diet is most dilatory in its despatch." "Well, I will not answer the question, but state the facts. My messmates can vouch for the truth of them. Five years ago, and not three, I came out with a battalion of this regiment. We mustered twenty-five officers in all. We asked ourselves the very same question you have just asked of me. We split into two parties nearly even in number. Twelve of us took to water, temperance, and all manner of preservatives; the other thirteen of us led a harum-scarum life, ate whenever we were hungry, and when we were not hungry, drank whenever we were thirsty, and when we were not thirsty, and to create a thirst, we qualified our claret with brandy; and generally forgot the water, or substituted madeira for it, in making our punch. This portion of our body, like Jack Falstaff, was given to sleeping on bulkheads on moonlight nights, shooting in the midday sun, riding races, and sometimes, hem! assisting -a-a-at drinking matches." Here the worthy soldier made a pause, appeared more thirsty than ever, scolded Quasha for not brandying his sangaree, and swigging it with the air of an Alexander, he proceeded to drain the cup that was fatal, and looked round with conscious superiority. The pale ensign looked more pale-the sentimental lieutenants more sentimental—many thrust their wine and their punch from before them, and there was a sudden competition for the water jug. The marine officer carried a stronger expression than anxiety upon his features-it was consternation-and thus hesitatingly delivered himself: "And-so-so-sir-the bon vivants-deluded-poor deluded gentlemen! all perished-but-pardon me-delicate dilemma-but yourself, my good major." 66 Exactly, Mr. Smallcoates; and within the eighteen months." There was a perceptible shudder through the company, military as well as naval. The pure element became in more demand than ever, and those who did not actually push away their claret, watered it. The imperturbable major brandied his sangaree more potently. "But," said Mr. Smallcoates, brightening up, "the temperate gentlemen all escaped the contagion-undoubtedly!" "I beg your pardon-they all died within the year. I alone remain of all the officers to tell the tale. The year eight was dreadful. Poor fellows!" The good major's voice faltered, and he bent over his sangaree much longer than was necessary to enjoy the draught. Blank horror passed her fearful glance from guest to guest. Even the rubicund doctor's mouth was twitched awry. I did not quite like it myself. "But I'm alive," said the major, rallying up from his bitter recollections," and the brandy is just as invigorating, and the wine just as refreshing, as ever." "Is "The major is alive," said the marine officer, very sapiently. that brandy before you, Mr. Farmer? I'll trouble you for it-I really feel this claret very cold upon my stomach. "Yes," he repeated, after taking down a tumbler full of half spirits, half wine," the major is alive-and-so am I." "The major is alive," went round the table; "let us drink his health in bumpers." The major returned thanks, and volunteered a song. I begged it, and the reader may sing it as he pleases, though I shall please myself by recording how the major was pleased to have it sung. "Gentlemen," said he, "you will do me the favour to fill a bumper of lemonade, and when I cry chorus, chorus me standing, with the glasses in your hands; and at the end of each chorus you will be pleased to remember, that the glass is to be drained. No heel-taps after, and no daylight before. Now for it, my lads," and with a voice that must have startled the land crabs from their avocations, he roared out "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! To thy damp, drear abode in the jungle; I'll be sober and staid, And drink LEMONADE, Try and catch me--you'll make a sad bungle, Yellow Jack! "But he came, the queer thief, and he seiz'd my right hand, CHORUS, (with increasing loudness.) Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! We'll be sober and staid, And we'll drink lemonade, Try and catch us-you'll make a sad bungle, Yellow Jack! (tremendously.) "Bumpers of sangaree," roared the major, and sang, "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! Whilst my heart's full of glee, In thy death-doing might I'll defy thee, Yellow Jack! "But the fiend persever'd and got hold of my side, CHORUS, (still more loudly.) "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! For we'll drink sangaree, Whilst our hearts throb with glee, In thy death-doing might we defy thee, Yellow Jack!" After the sangaree, strong and highly spiced, had been quaffed, the excitement grew wilder, and the leader of our revels exclaimed at the top of his voice, "Wine, gentlemen, wine-brimmers," and thus continued "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! Pure WINE now I'll drink, So Jack, I should think, Of me thou wilt never make booty, Yellow Jack! "But a third time he came, and seized hold of my head, My hand, and my side, and my heart too, I think, CHORUS. "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! Pure wine now we'll drink, So Jack, we should think, Of us thou wilt never make booty, Yellow Jack! "Brandy," shouted the major. "Brandy-he's craven who shirks the call." There was no one there craven but myself. My youth excused my apostasy from the night's orgies. The major resumed, his red face intensely hot and arid. "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack! hie thee back! hie thee back! My heart, and thus brave Thee, and fell Death, thy own brother, Yellow Jack! "To brandy I took, and then Jack took his leave, |