"I have it," cried another, and arose; "But wait a moment, sir," and out she goes. With curiosity the artist burn'd-- "What was she gone for?" but she soon return'd. "I knew from what _they_ said, to expect to gain A likeness of grandpa was quite in vain; But, not upon that point to dwell, I have got something here will do as well As though alive he for his portrait sat!" So, saying, with a curtsey low, She from behind, with much parade and show, Presented an old hat! C.W. NIGHTS AT SEA; _Or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War_. BY THE OLD SAILOR. No. IV. "Impute it not a crime To me, or my swift passage, that I slide O'er sixteen years." * * * "There's some ill planet reigns; I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable." SHAKSPEARE. There glides the dashing Spankaway over the smooth surface of the ocean, whilst, close in her wake, moves the vanquished Hippolito. The damages have been repaired so as to be scarcely perceptible; the shot-holes have been well plugged and secured; and the two frigates appear more like consorts on a cruise than enemies so recently engaged in deadly strife. The breeze is a royal breeze; and gallantly the beautiful ships are splitting the yielding waters, whilst the watches are employed in necessary duties. Near the taffrail of the Spankaway stand two prominent figures, both remarkably fine-looking men, who might be taken for brother officers but for the difference in their uniforms. The one on the larboard hand has his head erect, his chest thrown forward, his left hand thrust into his waistcoat, and his right foot in advance planted firmly on the deck; he is indulging in high-wrought and proud feelings as he silently gazes on the prize; his voice is not heard, but there is a speaking meaning in his look as he contemplates the red cross of St. George upon a white field floating majestically above the tricolour, whilst his own untarnished ensign waves singly at his peak. The individual on the starboard hand has a cast of melancholy on his countenance; his head is depressed, his arms are folded on his breast; and, though sensible that he has done his duty, and defended his command as long as his crew rendered it tenable, yet he knows that he was not well supported by his fellow-citizens, among whom equality is the order of the day; and he is suffering from a sense of deep humiliation at the degraded condition in which he is placed. These are the captains of the two frigates,--the victor and the vanquished.