‘“Ferd Fid,” continued the voice, which now seemed about fifty fathoms deep; and fast as we were dropping down the stream, the boat gave a heel to starboard, as if she had been broadsided by a tremendous wave—“Ferd Fid, you recollect how I used to kill time; how I sang, drank, danced, and supped all night long, and then slept and soda-watered it all day? You remember what a happy fellow I seemed. Fools like yourself thought I was so; but I say again, I wasn’t,” growled the voice, letting itself down a few fathoms deeper. “Often and often I would have given the world to have been a market-gardener or a dealer in chick-weed while roaring ‘He is a jolly good fellow,’ and ‘We won’t go home till morning!’ as I emerged with a group from some tavern into Covent Garden market. But I’m punished fearfully for my sins now. What do you think I have got to do every night of my—never mind—what do you think is now marked out as my dreadful punishment?” ‘“Well, to walk the earth, I suppose,” said I. ‘“No.” ‘“To paddle about in the Thames from sunset to sun-rise?” ‘“Worse. Ha! ha!” (his laugh sounded like the booming of a gong). “I only wish my doom _was_ merely to be a mud-lark. No, no, I’m condemned to rush about from one evening party and public house to another. At the former I am bound for a certain term on each night to dance all the quadrilles, and a few of the polkas and waltzes with clumsy partners; and then I have to eat stale pastry and tough poultry before I am let off from _that_ place. After, I am bound to go to some cellar or singing place to listen to ‘Hail, smiling morn,’ ‘Mynheer Van Dunk,’ ‘The monks of old,’ ‘Happy land,’ imitations of the London actors, and to hear a whole canto of dreary extempore verses. I must also smoke a dozen of cigars, knowing—as in my present condition I must know,—what they are made of. The whole to end on each night with unlimited brandy (British) and water, and eternal intoxication. Oh, F. F., be warned! be warned! Take my advice; keep up your resolution, and don’t do it again. When afloat, drink nothing stronger than purser’s tea. When on shore be temperate in your pleasures; don’t turn night into day; don’t exchange wholesome amusements for rabid debauchery, robust health for disease and—well, I won’t mention it. When afloat, study your profession and don’t get cashiered and cold-shouldered as I was. Promise me—nay, you must swear!” ‘At this word I thought I heard a gurgling sound in the water. ‘“If I can get six solemn pledges before the season’s over, I’m only to go these horrid rounds during the meeting of Parliament.” ‘“_Will_ you swear?” again urged the voice, with persuasive agony. ‘I was just able to comply.