“How biting,” he remarked, “is the breeze! Egad, my teeth feel an inclination to be so too!” The fresh air gave him the wind in his stomach; a sufficient apology for the introduction of a cold pigeon-pie, and some piquant etceteras that he had provided as a whet to the entertainment in agreeable perspective at Battersea Rise. Opining that the undulation of the boat was likely to prevent “good digestion,” which--though everybody here helped himself--should “wait on appetite,” he ordered Barney to moor it in some convenient creek; and as Barney, not having been polished in the Chesterfield school, seemed mightily at a loss how to dispose of his hands, Mr. Bosky, who was well-bred, and eschewed idleness, found them suitable employment, by inviting their owner to fall to. And what a merry party were we! Barney Binnacle made no more bones of a pigeon than he would of a lark; swallowed the forced-meat balls as if they had been not bigger than Morrison's pills; demolished the tender rump-steak and flaky pie-crust with a relish as sweet as the satisfaction that glowed in Mr. Bosky's benevolent heart and countenance, and buzzed the pale brandy (of which he could drink any given quantity) like sugared cream! The Lauréat was magnificently jolly. He proposed the good healths of Mrs. Binnacle and the Binnacles major and minor; toasted old Father Thames and his Tributaries; and made the welkin ring with MRS. GRADY'S SAINT MONDAY VOYAGE TO BATTERSEA. Six-foot Timothy Glover, Son of the brandy-nos'd bugleman, He was a general lover, Though he was only a fugleman; Ogling Misses and Ma'ams, Listing, drilling, drumming'em-- Quick they shoulder'd his arms-- Argumentum ad humming'em! Mrs. Grady, in bonnet and scarf, Gave Thady the slip on Saint Monday, With Timothy tripp'd to Hore's wharf, Which is close to the Glasgow and Dundee. The river look'd swelling and rough, A waterman plump did invite her; “One heavy swell is enough; I'm up to your craft--bring a lighter!” They bargain'd for skipper and skiff, Cry'd Timothy, “This is a windy go!” It soon blew a hurricane stiff, And blue look'd their noses as indigo! “Lack-a-daisy! we're in for a souse! The fish won't to-day see a rummer set; Land us at Somerset House, Or else we shall both have a summerset!” They through the bridge Waterloo whirl'd To Lambeth, a finer and fatter see! Their shoulder-of-mutton sail furl'd, For a shoulder of mutton at Battersea. Tim then rang for coffee and tea,