"Vanguard-thirty killed, seventy-five wounded total, a hundred and five."

Yes, Jack, that was Nelson's own ship; and he is always to be found where the shot fly thickest."

"Bellerophon-forty-nine killed, a hundred and forty-eight wounded; total, a hundred and ninetyscven."

"Well! she was in the thick of it, any how," observed Ben.

"Majestic-fifty killed, a hundred and forty-three wounded; total, a hundred and ninety-three."

"Why, she and the Bellyruffron seem to have pretty well shared and shared alike. You see, Jack, they led into the action, and had all the cream of the fire."

I went on reading and Ben remarking, until I came to the Audacious.

"Audacious-one killed, and thirty-five wounded; total, thirty-six."

“Well now, Jack, that's all in favour of your father being alive; 'cause why should he be the one killed, more than any one else? I'd bet two pots of beer that he's among the wounded-but it's impossible to say; for you see, Jack, although they give us the names of the officers killed and wounded, they always lump the petty officers and common seamen. Well! here's to your father's health, Jack, anyhow-we shall soon hear something about him."

"I hope so," replied I, folding up the paper.

"And now, Jack," continued Ben, handing me the pot, "don't you feel how proud a thing it is to know how to read. Here I am, you see, old enough almost

to be your grandfather, and don't I look like a helpless babby beside you;--you can inform me of what is going on, but I cannot help myself. Don't I feel, as I sit here, as if you were the man, and I were the boy; indeed I do, Jack, and no mistake;-but, arter all, there was no one to blame in my case; that's some comfort."

I certainly did acknowledge to myself how much I had gained by the tuition of Peter Anderson, and what advantage it was to me that I had been instructed; and I could not help, for a moment, feeling that I had the advantage over my good friend Ben.

According to the usual custom on the occasion of a great victory, the pensioners had, on the following day, what was called a holiday; that is, a day of rejoicing, on which they were supplied with an extra quantity of beer, to make merry with. On these occasions, the rules of the Hospital, with respect to sobriety, are, of course, not strictly observed. Most of those who prefer smoking collect in what is called the smoking room, where they sit and enjoy themselves; but very often, as there is so much noise on these occasions, those who belong to the same ward collect together, club for some spirits to add to their extra allowance, and sit by the fire, which is in the corridor of the ward. The fireplace is generally a very large one, and surrounded by benches with high backs, to serve as screens against the cold and wind; and, as there are tables inside, you are very snug and comfortable. On this occasion, many of the Warriors' Ward, of which Anderson was boatswain, and Ben one of the boatswain's mates, had repaired to their own fire, for it

was now October, and very chilly after the sun went down.

Ben, I suppose, in return for the pot of porter which I had given him, invited me to be of the party; they drank the health of Nelson, and talked about the different ships which were in the action. Some drank very fast, and then reeled off to their beds, which were close at hand; others were taken to bed by Peter Anderson and Ben; and, at last, there were but four or five left. One of these was the other boatswain's mate of the ward; I knew very little of him at that time, except that his name was James Turner. He was a very quiet, well-behaved man, and seemed to be more fond of sitting or walking alone than of being in company; never was known to drink too much; and, indeed, as boatswain's mate, was more relied upon by Anderson than even Ben was-although, perhaps, Ben was his more constant companion. The conversation relative to the particulars of the battle of the Nile was resumed; and Anderson observed,—

"What an awful sight it must have been to behold the blowing up of the L'Orient French three-decker, with upwards of a thousand men on board! Merciful Heaven! so many poor fellows launched into eternity in one moment! They say there were but seventy

three saved."

"There were nearly as many souls lost when the Royal George went down at Spithead, with all the fleet at anchor round about her," replied Ben; were there not, Turner, for you were on board of her?"

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"Yes, I should think there were," replied Turner;

"but it is impossible to say how many people were on board at the time."

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Messmate," said Anderson, "as all the noisy ones are gone, and we shall be able to hear you, suppose that you let us know all about it? I have heard a good deal, but, I suspect, not the rights of it."

"With all my heart," replied Turner. "It was a sad affair; and was all owing to the pride of an officer, who was not much of a sailor, at all events."

I drew nearer, that I might not lose a word of what Turner said; and then he narrated, in the following words,

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

"Well, messmates, the Royal George was a hundredgun ship; and, what we don't often see now, when I first belonged to her, her guns were all brass. We had brass twenty-four pounders on our quarter-deck, forecastle, poop, and main deck, brass thirty-twos on our middle deck, and brass forty-two pounders on our lower deck. In the spring of '82, when we were at Plymouth (about six months before she sunk), it was considered that the brass forty-twos on the lower deck were too heavy for her, and so they were put on shore, and we had iron thirty-twos instead. I don't think, myself, it made much difference in the weight of metal, and we were sorry to part with them. We were a flag-ship, you know,-old Kempenfelt carrying his blue at the mizen, and our poop lanterns were so large that the men used to get inside of them to clean them. She was rather a top-heavy sort of ship, in my opinion, her upper works were so high,-why, we

measured sixty-six feet from the keelson up to the taffrail; but still, with proper attention, there was nothing to fear on that score.

"Well, it was on the 29th of August, '82,-that's just fourteen years and about six weeks ago,—that we were lying at Spithead, in company with Lord Howe's fleet of between twenty and thirty sail of the line: there was the Victory, Barfleur, Ocean, and Union, all three-deckers, I recollect, close to us. We were in good repair, not at all leaky, and were to have sailed in two days to join the fleet in the Mediterranean. We had been paid, in consequence of our being about to sail foreign; and we had been paid in golden guineas. I think that, could all the money be collected together, from the pockets of the seamen, the women, and the Jews, who went down in the ship, it would be a very pretty fortune even for a duke's daughter."

Here Ben shoved the ale to Turner, who drank a little and proceeded; while Ben took a swig and passed it round.

"Well, you see, messmates, the first lieutenant had been washing the decks on the morning before, and the carpenter had been ordered to let the water in, when it was found that the water-cock, which was about three feet below the water line, was out of order, and it was necessary that it should be repaired. The foreman came off from the dock-yard, and stated that it was necessary that the ship should be careened over to port, sufficiently to raise the mouth of the pipewhich went through the ship's timbers below-clean out of the water, that they might work at it; so, between seven and eight o'clock on that morning, the