PAVING-STONES SOMETIMES PROVE STUMBLING-BLOCKS--A DISQUISITION ON THE FIGURATIVE, ENDS BY RALPH FIGURING AT THE MAST-HEAD, THUS EXTENDING HIS VIEWS UPON THE SUBJECT. The next morning at daylight we weighed, and, by the aid of much firing of guns, and the display of unmeasured bunting, we got the whole of the convoy out of the cove by noon, with two men-of-war brigs bringing up the rear. Shortly after losing sight of land, bad weather came on, in which poor Gubbins was drowned, as I have before narrated. By the time that we had reached Madeira, the ship's company had settled into good order, and formed that concentrated principle which enabled them to act as one man. It was a young and a fine crew, made up of drafts of twenties and thirties from different vessels, thanks to the nepotism of the treasurer of the navy. We also began to understand each other's characters, and to study the captain's. Mischief was his besetting sin. Naturally malignant he was not, but inconsiderate to a degree that would make you think that his heart was really bad. One of his greatest pleasures was that of placing people in awkward and ludicrous situations. He very soon discovered the fattest men among the masters of the merchant vessels; and, when we had run far enough to the southward to make sitting in an open boat very unpleasant, he would in light winds, make a signal for one of his jolly friends to come on board, the more especially if he happened to be far astern. Then began Captain Reud's enjoyment. After two hours' hard pulling, the master would be seen coming up astern, wiping his brows, and, when within hail, Reud would shout to him to give away--and, just as he reached the stern ladder, the main-topsail of the frigate would be shivered, and the boat again be left half a mile astern. Another attempt, and another failure, the captain meanwhile gloating over the poor man's misery with the suppressed chuckle of delight, in which you would fancy a monkey to indulge after he had perpetrated some irreparable mischief. However, he would generally tease his victim no longer than dinner-time. The ship would then be effectively hove-to, the half-melted skipper would get on board, and the captain receive him with studied politeness. Much would I admire the gravity with which he would deplore the impossibility of stopping his Majesty's ship _Eos_ by anything short of an anchor and good holding ground. No, she would not be hove-to--go a-head or go astern she must--but stand still she could not. During this harangue, the mystified mariner would look at his commodore, much wondering which of the two was the fool.