The First watch (8 o’clock to midnight) which comes after the labour of the day is done, and when every thing is hushed and still, carries with it this great recommendation, that, although the hour of going to bed is deferred, the night’s rest is not afterwards broken in upon. The prospect of ‘turning in’ at midnight, and being allowed to sleep till seven in the morning, helps greatly to keep us alive and merry during the First watch, and prevents the excitement of the past day from ebbing too fast. On the other hand, your thorough-bred growlers are apt to say, it is a grievous task to keep the First watch, after having gone through all the toil of the day, and, in particular, after having kept the Afternoon watch (noon to 4 o’clock,) which, in hot climates, is always a severe trial upon the strength. Generally speaking, however, I think the First watch is the least unpopular; for, I suppose, no mortal, whatever he might think, was ever found so Quixotic as to profess openly that he really liked keeping watch. Such a paradox would be famously ridiculed on board ship! The Middle watch is almost universally held to be a great bore; and certainly it is a plague of the first order, to be shaken out of a warm bed at midnight, when three hours of sound sleep have sealed up our eyelids all the faster, and steeped our senses in forgetfulness, and in repose, generally much needed. It is a bitter break, too, to have four good hours sliced out of the very middle of the night’s rest, especially when this tiresome interval is to be passed in the cold and rain, or, which is often still more trying, in the sultry calm of a smooth, tropical sea, when the sleepy sails, as wet with dew as if they had been dipped overboard, flap idly against the masts and rigging, but so very gently as barely to make the reef points patter-patter along the canvass, with notes so monotonous, that the bare recollection of their sound almost sets me to sleep, now.