on it stood a brass candlestick, with a dip candle, and a wick like a full-blown carnation. The table-cloth was spread, and the stains of port wine and gravy too visibly indicated, like the midshipman's dirty shirt, the near approach of Sunday. The black servant was preparing for dinner, and I was shewn the seat I was to occupy. "Good Heaven!" thought I, as I squeezed myself between the ship's side and the mess-table, " and is this to be my future residence?—better go back to school; there, at least, there is fresh air and clean linen."
I would have written that moment to my dear broken-hearted mother, to tell her how gladly her prodigal son would fly back to her arms; but I was prevented doing this, first by pride, and secondly by want of writing materials. Taking my place, therefore, at the table, I mustered up all my philosophy; and, to amuse myself, called to mind the reflection of Gil Blas, when he found himself in the den of the robbers,
