After having searched the coast for over six months, during which time they captured and destroyed a great number of junks, lorchas, and other piratical craft, the Stinger returned to Hong-Kong, where her officers and crew received their letters and newspapers, which had accumulated at the Post-Office during their absence, the delivery to the crew taking place as follows. The ship's corporal and Sergeant Spine having obtained the sack of mails, proceeded forward with it, and upon reaching the forecastle shot the contents into a dry wash deck tub; then the boatswain piped, "Hands, lay forward for your letters." Every one was on the alert, and a dozen men who could read clustered round the tub, and assisted in the pleasing task of distributing the epistles. "Bill Bowker!" "Gone ashore. I'm his chum--here, chuck it over." "Jerry Thompson!--one, two, three letters." "Heave 'em here," cried the wag, who had brought up a bucket in which to receive his correspondence. "Charles Smith!" "Vich Chawles is it?" demanded a stumpy individual; "is it I or Conkey Smith?" "Tommy Sims!" "Runned away," observed one of the boys. "Charles Dunstable--oh! he's dead." "Harry Tomlin!" "Bolted at Singapore." "Tom Clare! three letters for you, old man." "Jerry Thompson! Jerry Thompson! here you are, a regular bunch of 'em. All the girls in Portsmouth must av bin awriting you, Jerry." "Werry possible," coolly retorted the coxswain. "It's more than they'd do to you, old fetch-and-carry." "Mister Robert Brown! Here Bobby, here's a letter from one of them ere lords as you is related to." "Chuck it over ere, and hold yer thundering jaw," growled the gentleman alluded to. When the tub was cleared of its contents, a sale of letters commenced, i. e. those who had none purchased one or two at second hand from their more fortunate shipmates. "Now, then," shouted a freckled-face Pat, "here's a chance for yez, my boys,--a letthur from me Cousin Eiley--full av love and tinderness. Who sez a pint ov grog for this? wid two songs, one called 'Teddy Regan,' and the other 'Nora O'Shane,' put into the bargain. The letthur is worth all the grog, as it's chock full of family matters. Come, me boys! who sez a pint?" Upon this a big, stupid-looking topman called out in a half-ashamed manner,--"Heave it over here, Tim, I'll give ye a pint for it next time I'm cook." Having received it, the man walked below to his mess, where he indulged in the luxury of spelling over the letter, which we will give, with his comments upon the same. "_Limerick_ (I wish I was there). "MY DARLIN TIM (that's affectionate, anyhow),