George, indeed, it was; standing six feet one inch in his shoes. We would describe, if we could, what is indescribable, but which may easily be imagined—the exclamations—the shakes of the hand—the congratulations which followed. After the parents of the newly arrived son had sufficiently admired him, and had expended their stock of wondering expressions at his growth, the rest of the party took their turn, inwardly deciding in their own minds that he was the finest looking fellow they had ever seen. He was, in truth, a noble specimen of manhood; but his curling hair, the overflowing and almost child-like good-humor—the fun, which shone in his full blue eye, and extended his somewhat large mouth and full lips, displaying his brilliantly white teeth, seemed to bespeak him still the boy, despite his giant frame, and the brown tinge which darkened his cheek. The salutations over, the company very considerately took their leave, excepting George’s relatives, who lingered a few moments after the rest to welcome him home again, and to bid him more affectionate adieus. During breakfast, next morning, the young mariner related his adventures, and the wonders he had beheld in foreign parts; from the first whale he saw, which awoke out of a comfortable afternoon’s nap, just after they had passed “the Banks,” and which, lazily yawning, opened its huge jaws and then closed them again, spouting water as high as the top-gallant mast, to Stromboli, spouting fire for the express entertainment of sailors on a dark night, as they neared the coast of Sicily. Not omitting the Tower of London, where he had held his head in the lion’s mouth for full five minutes. “You naughty, wicked boy!” exclaimed his mother, almost breathless with terror; “I really believe I should have been tempted to box your ears. Did you ever hear any thing like it, Amy?” The latter during the recital having quietly slipped in, and taken her seat at the table. “Mr. Wendell being obliged to go away by daylight, and the baby not having yet awakened.” George made no reply, but continued his narrative, eating lump after lump of sugar out of the basin, and escaping the rap over the knuckles, which he would once have had. Then the Cross of St. Paul’s—on the right arm of which he had stood upon one leg, whilst Dick did the same on the left, shaking hands together over the top. John, who had been listening in silent wonder and delight, at this climax clapped his brother on the shoulder in an ecstasy. “It is a pity you hadn’t both broken your necks,” exclaimed Mrs. Wendell, in indignation. “What upon earth did you play such pranks for?” Mr. Fayerweather wore his comical look. “Why, now, cousin—when I’ve brought you home such a beautiful gown—a rich yellow calamanco, the brightest there was in the shop. Dick went with me on purpose to help me choose it.” “Where’s the brocade you promised me, you scapegrace?”