What set me first on this train of thought, was a trial I lately read, where a cross action was sustained for damage at sea--the owners of the brig Durham against the Aurora, a foreign vessel, and _vice versa_, for the result of a collision at noon, on the 14th of October. It appeared that both vessels had taken shelter in the Humber from stress of weather, nearly at the same time--that the Durham, which preceded the Prussian vessel, “clewed up her top-sails, and dropped her anchor _rather_ suddenly; and the Aurora being in the rear, the vessels came in collision.” The question, therefore, was, whether the Durham came to anchor too precipitately, and in an unseamanlike manner; or, in other words, whether, when the “Durham clewed up topsails, and let go her anchor, the Aurora should not have luffed up, or got stern way on her,” &c. Nothing could possibly be more instructive, nor anything scarcely more amusing, than the lucid arguments employed by the counsel on both sides. The learned Thebans, that would have been sick in a ferry-boat, spoke as if they had circumnavigated the globe. Stay-sails, braces, top-gallants, clews, and capstans they hurled at each other like _bon bons_ at a carnival; and this naval engagement lasted from daylight to dark. Once only, when the judge “made it noon,” for a little refection, did they cease conflict, to renew the strife afterwards with more deadly daring, till at last so confused were the witnesses--the plaintiff, defendant, and all, that they half wished, they had gone to the bottom, before they thought of settling the differences in the Admiralty Court. This was no common occasion for the display of these powers so peculiarly the instinctive gift of the bar, and certainly they used it with all the enthusiasm of a _bonne bouche_. How I trembled for the Aurora, when an elderly gentleman, with a wart on his nose, assured the court that the Durham had her top-sail backed ten minutes before the anchor fell; and then, how I feared again for the Durham, as a thin man in spectacles worked the Prussian, about in a double-reefed mainsail, and stood round in stays so beautifully. I thought myself at sea, so graphic was the whole description--the waves splashed and foamed around the bulwarks, and broke in spray upon the deck--the wind rattled amid the rigging--the bulkheads creaked, and the good ship heaved heavily in the trough of the sea, like a mighty monster in his agony. But my heart quailed not--I knew that Dr. Lushington was at the helm, and Dr. Haggard had the look-out a-head--I felt that Dr. Robinson stood by the lee braces, and Dr. Addison waited, hatchet in hand, to cut away the mainmast. These were comforting reflections, till I was once more enabled to believe myself in her Majesty's High Court of Admiralty.