"I know nothing of grammar; At school they never could hammer Or beat it into my head. The bare word made me stammer, And turn pale as if I were dead. But here I may as well be telling, I'm often damned out in my spelling. And this is all the apology I offer for my chronology And biographical sketches Of mighty men and lubberly wretches, From seventeen hundred and seventy-seven, Their rank, their titles, and their names all given." The last line contains nothing more nor less than the truth, for Gardner, although so many years had passed, and he had served in as many as twelve vessels, as midshipman, master's mate, and lieutenant, remembered every man, and when the time came for appraisement was all ready with his summary. It is these summaries, so vivid and searching and kindly and understanding, to which it interests me to draw attention: for such things are new to me, and may be new to others; by their vigour and candour they take their place with more ambitious anthropological efforts. For swift and vivid summary it would be hard to beat some of the following entries in Gardner's book of memory:-- Charles Buchan, purser. Dead. A most worthy gentleman. Jack Swanson, gunner. Dead. A very good man but had a very bad wife. Thomas Floyd, third lieutenant. Dead. A dandy. W. Colt, midshipman. Dead. A very good fellow. We used to call him "Old Owl." George Rule Bluet, midshipman. Dead. A good-natured fellow, with good abilities, but drank hard. I recollect being of a party at Gosport when Bluet wanted to make love to a young lady, but did not know how to begin. At last he took out of his pocket a plan of the _Edgar's_ hold, which he begged her to accept, and hoped she would keep it for his sake. Sol Saradine. Dead. A droll, wicked fellow. How Stevenson and Henley would have rejoiced in this name! Sol Saradine. It breathes piracy and lawlessness. Ben Forester, captain of marines. Dead. As brave and generous a soul as ever lived, but thoughtless and died unfortunate. -- Cook, Carpenter. Dead. A good man; no dandy. Edward Forster, midshipman. Dead. Herculean Irishman; a terror to the dockyard maties. Thomas Watson, midshipman. Dead. A glorious noisy fellow. Is not that an epitaph indeed, one to be proud of? I wish I was a glorious noisy fellow. Joseph Loring, third lieutenant. Dead. A good sailor, very passionate, and swore like the devil. The Parson (I forget his name). Dead. Had no dislike to grog. Edward Dowdall, gunner. Dead. Lethargic; always dozing in the forecastle; a sleepy, good man. John Sandford, midshipman. Dead. A member of the Hell-Fire Club; a dandy, and a droll fellow. Thomas James Skerret, midshipman. This fellow wanted to be a tyrant, but was too great a fool. Robert Manning, midshipman. Dead. Bob was a good fellow.