Hark! it is four bells, in the first dog-watch; and there rolls the summons by the drum, calling the brave to arms. See how the hatchways pour forth the living mass! and in three minutes every soul fore and aft is at his appointed post. The gallant ship lies almost slumbering on the fair bosom of the waters, and the little progress she ds make is as noiseless as a delightful dream; like the lone point in the centre of a circle, she is surrounded by the blue waves, and nothing intervenes to break the connected curve of the horizon. Upon the quarter-deck, his right hand thrust into his waistcoat, and his feet firmly planted on the white plank, as if desirous of making the bark feel his own peculiar weight, stands her brave commander: near him Mr. Squeez'em and two young imps of aides-de-camp take up their allotted stations; the former to note and minute down the details of action, the latter to fly to the infernal regions of the magazine,or anywhere else, at the bidding of their chief. The lieutenants are mustering their divisions through the agency of the young gentlemen; the surgeon and his assistants, happily having nothing to do below, appear abaft the mizen-mast; whilst Mr. Parallel holds brief consultation with the veteran Savage, whose portrait is affixed to each cat-head. Mr. Bracebit is sounding the well, and old Blueblazes is skimming about wherever circumstances require his presence. The marines, stiffened with pipe-clay, and their heads immoveable from what the negroes appropriately call "a top-boot round de neck," are parading on the gangway--their thumbs as stark as tobacco-stoppers, and their fingers as straight as a "hap'orth of pins." What a compound of pomatum and heel-ball, pipe-clay and sand-paper! And now the officers give in their reports to the captain, who walks round the quarters to make a personal inspection, and, as he looks along the frowning battery, his lordship is proud of his bonny bark; whilst, as he gazes on his gallant crew, his heart exults in beholding some of the finest specimens of Britain's own that ever made their "home upon the deep." "What think you of the weather, Mr. Parallel?" inquires his lordship, on returning to the quarter-deck. "Will it be fine to-night?" The old man scans the horizon with an eye of professional scrutiny, and then replies, "I have my doubts, my lord; but at this time o' year the helements are beyond the ken of human understanding. I've been up the Mediterranean, off and on, man and boy, some five-and-forty years; it is to me like the face of a parent to a child, but I never could discover from its features what was passing in its heart, or the fit it would take next; one minute a calm, the next a squall; one hour a gentle breeze that just keeps the sails asleep, the next a gale of wind enough to blow the devil's horns off."