or stick, as the case might be, and harpoon him under the fifth rib; for, with a heavy burden on his head and shoulders, necessarily supported by both hands, defence was impossible.  I must say, Jack took it all in good humour, and filing a bill “STOMACH v.  RIBS,” left it to Old Neptune to obtain restitution for injuries inflicted on his sons.  I believe those who have once settled their accounts with that sea-deity are not more anxious to be brought into his court again, than those who have enjoyed the prolonged luxury of a suit in Chancery.

Everything must have an end; so, the mail agent arriving with his postal cargo, on goes the steam, and off goes the “Africa,” Captain Harrison.

  “Some wave the hand, and some begin to cry,
  Some take a weed, and nodding, say good-bye.”

I am now fairly off for New York, with a brother and two friends; we have each pinned our card to the red table-cover in the saloon, to indicate our permanent positions at the festive board during the voyage.  Unless there is some peculiarity in arrangement or circumstance, all voyages resemble each other so much, that I may well spare you the dullness of repetition.  Stewards will occasionally upset a soup-plate, and it will sometimes fall inside the waistcoat of a “swell,” who travelling for the first time, thinks it requisite to “get himself up” as if going to the Opera.  People under the influence of some internal and irresistible agency, will occasionally spring from the table with an energy that is but too soon painfully exhausted, upsetting a few side dishes as their feet catch the corner of the cloth.  Others will rise, and try to look dignified and composed, the hypocrisy whereof is unpleasantly revealed ere they reach the door of the saloon; others eat and drink with an ever-increasing vigour, which proves irresistibly the truth of the saying, “L’appetit vient en mangeant.”  Heads that walked erect, puffing cigars like human chimneys in the Mersey, hang listless and ’baccoless in the Channel (Mem., “Pride goes before a fall").  Ladies, whose rosy cheeks and bright eyes, dimmed with the parting tear, had, as they waved the last adieu, told of buoyant health and spirits, gather mysteriously to the sides of the vessel, ready for any emergency, or lie helpless in their berths, resigning themselves to the ubiquitous stewardess, indifferent even to death itself.  Others, again, whose interiors have been casehardened by Old Neptune, patrol the deck, and, if the passengers are numerous, congratulate each other in the most heartless manner by the observation, “There’ll be plenty of room in the saloon, if this jolly breeze continues!”