On turning out in the morning, I felt an approach to that which seamen call the "horrors," and continued in this state, until I had swallowed several glasses of rum. I had no appetite for breakfast, and life was sustained principally by drink. Half of the time I ate no dinner, and when I did, it was almost drowned in grog. Occasionally I drove out in a coach, or a gig, and generally had something extra to pay for damages. One of these cruises cost me forty dollars, and I shall always think I was given a horse that sailed crab-fashion, on purpose to do me out of the money. At night, I generally went to the play, and felt bound to treat the landlord and his family to tickets and refreshments. We always had a coach to go in, and it was a reasonable night that cost me only ten dollars. At first I was a sort of "king among beggars;" but as the money went, Ned's importance went with it, until, one day, the virtuous landlord intimated to me that it would be well, as I happened to be sober, to overhaul our accounts. He then began to read from his books, ten dollars for this, twenty dollars for that, and thirty for the other, until I was soon tired, and wanted to know how much was left. I had still fifty dollars, even according to his account of the matter; and as that might last a week, with good management, I wanted to hear no more about the items. All this time, I was separated from my old shipmates, being left comparatively among strangers. Jack Mallet had gone to join his friends in Philadelphia, and Barnet went south, whither I cannot say. I never fell in with either of them again, it being the fate of seamen to encounter the greatest risks and hardships in company, and then to cut adrift from each other, with little ceremony, never to meet again. I was still young, being scarcely two-and-twenty, and might, even then, have hauled in my oars, and come to be an officer and a man.