he put one out as an apprentice or clerk, and the other was my friend Buonaparte, as the sailors called him, who had preferred going to sea. Our black cook was a native of Congo; and was a very original fellow. He had served ten years in the British navy, was wounded, and became an outpensioner of Greenwich Hospital. He and another black were constantly disputing about their respective merits the latter was from Anabona, and had been brought from the coast by some trader, and discharged; and my good captain found him one night lying on the side of a lime-kiln for warmth, without money, without food, and without a shelter. In the course of their quarrels much curious conversation took place, in which the cook always strove to maintain his rank. He defied Anabona to "'sult him, a gentleman in his Majessy's service;" and Anabona in return would tell Congo, that he was "noting but a tea-pot." Besides these we had some who styled themselves coxswain, boatswain, &c. &c. (for all delighted to make their crazy merchant-man resemble a vessel of war) together with the carpenter, and the coopers, and two dogs, and sundry boys. The second mate was the wildest, the most thoughtless, the most active, and the best-tempered being in the universe. With a pair of bow legs, which proved that he had clung to ropes and yards from his earliest existence; with a pair of brawny hands whose grasp was that of iron; with the peculiar stoop in the shoulders which characterizes a naval man; with crisp curly hair, and weather-beaten face,— it was his delight to boast, that no one would take him to be a sailor from his appearance. "As for that matter, he could pass just as well for a soldier. He would just shew us how he would draw his sword, and then we should see-he should take the sword with his left hand, and twisting his right in the becket—” At this word, a shout of laughter upset the hero's military dignity; for applying this term, used by sailors for a string or loop, to the sword-knot, convinced us all, that if he wished to represent anything but what he was, he must at least hold his tongue. The first mate will be already known by what I have said of him; the supercargo was a fine young man of unassuming and obliging manners; the surgeon, in spite of his patriotic love for whiskey, was a gentleman, and skilful in his profession; and our captain, who had been a lieutenant in the regular service, was a mild, handsome, gentlemanly young man, far too good-tempered and indulgent to govern such turbulent spirits by himself. He delighted to encourage their old habits; and at four o'clock decks were cleared and sport began. Sometimes throwing a great frieze coat over a sturdy boy, and half hiding him under some planks, they would fly past him with their iron feet, making the whole ship shake, and thumping him with knotted ropes' ends. His only chance of being extricated, was that of catching some of their legs, when the prisoner was placed in the same situation. "Hunt the hare," also, was a favourite pastime. Antonio, as the most agile, gene 372 GOING TO SEA, AND THE SHIP'S CREW. rally personated the animal; and famously did he give sport. At one time they would be hunting for him among the spars on deck, while he would be grinning at them through the main top; away they would all fly up the rigging, and when they thought themselves secure of their victim, he would catch hold of a loose rope, swing in air for a moment, dart at another, and be in a distant part of the vessel before they could ascertain which way he was gone. Then they would thunder down the forecastle and pull over every hammock; but he had again given them the slip, and was lying snug in the boat over the ship's side. I used to enjoy these scenes exceedingly; and our good captain would hide himself behind the companion door and shake with laughter, as he secretly witnessed their sports, and longed, as he told me, to become one of the party. Poor fellow! notwithstanding his kindness, they mutinied against him; and he and most of his uproarious crew were laid low in the grave before the ship returned; and she re-entered the Mersey, a melancholy proof of the baneful climate of Benin. THE TEMPLE OF ROMANCE. BY LEITCH RITCHIE, ESQ. THE sun was down; the dazzling red, Like blushes from the cheeks of love, The flowers a softer balm distilled; No sound disturbed the serenity of the scene : the very leaves, that at this season fall from the K K faded trees when no winds blow, forgot their destiny. Time seemed to stand still for a moment to gaze upon the tender loveliness he had himself given to the hour. Pleasure, that almost "trembled on the brink of pain," filled the Poet's heart. He lay motionless on the green bank, his eyes raised to heaven, his soul filled even to oppression with the beauty which seemed to clothe the world like a garment. He imagined himself in a dream, and already felt those wanderings of fancy which are beyond the controul of reason or volition. The ocean seemed to reflect forms which the eye looked for in vain in the upper world; and in the sky, those little vermeil clouds, the footsteps of the sun, assuming fantastical appearances, began to arrange themselves into strange and beautiful combinations. But oh, it was no dream that gave |