The boat-steerers are good-natured boys, always ready in the discharge of their duties; and the cooper, a quiet, peaceable man, who attends to his own business, which he thoroughly understands, and does not trouble himself with other people’s. The crew represent most of the states of the Union, England, and France. We have with us, also, a Kanaka, a native of the island of Roratongo, one of the Society Islands; a good-natured, lazy fellow, with but one eye, who goes by the very expressive name of Jo Bob. He speaks but little English, and that so broken as to make it difficult to understand him; nevertheless, in the first watch at night, he takes our wild Portuguese on the heel of the bowsprit, and endeavors to teach him _English_, and rather comical work they make of it. Most of the mechanical trades we find represented among our crew, as well as the professions, and the “art preservative of all arts.” One or two, from their appearance and conversation, would lead a person to suppose they had never before been beyond the boundaries of a cow pasture. Some have been driven to the sea to escape the consequence of rascalities at home; others from family difficulties; some have come to sea to repair their broken health; a few have run away from home to escape the fancied tyrannies of parents, and still others from an inclination to follow the sea and a love of adventure; and all have come to a good school, in one sense of the word. Shut out from all society; prescribed to a certain portion of the ship; to go when told, come when called, and that without grumbling; put upon sailor’s fare, which generally consists of coffee and tea, without milk or sugar, and sea-bread, with cold salt pork, for breakfast, beef and pork for dinner, with “duff” for dessert—and we will give a brief description of this beautiful dish: Take flour, which has previously been dug out of a cask with mallet and chisel, and then _pounded_ fine, mix it with water to the consistency of a paste, and then “dump” it into a canvas bag, and boil for three hours, with about the third quality of West India molasses, well diluted with water, for sauce, and you have the sailor’s delicacy—“duff!” This food, with the manner of living, generally brings them to their senses; they begin to realize the comforts and blessings of a good home, and make the important discovery that their wisdom is not quite so extensive as Solomon’s, and that they were sadly mistaken in supposing they knew more than their parents. If any young men who may chance to read this book should have a longing for the sea and all its pleasures, we will inform them how they may obtain a slight foretaste of those joys. Let them choose a dark, cold, rainy night, such as we often have in the month of November, and be roused suddenly out of a snug, cozy sleep, mount into the top of the tallest tree they can find, and there stand and endure the pitiless beatings of the storm for four long hours, and we think they will