"It is to perform on the violin, my boy," he answered. "I learned the art for the reason I mention. I have never yet been called upon to gain a livelihood by it; but I do not know how soon I may be, if things don't mend with me." "Is it to learn the fiddle you mean?" said I. "Faith, with all my heart, Hanks; and the sooner I begin then, the better." Hanks was delighted at gaining so willing a scholar, though I suspect our shipmates would rather have had us both securely moored at the bottom of Fiddler's Race, off Yarmouth. Whenever duty permitted us, our fiddles were never idle. My performance was not very scientific, certainly; but I learned to play, after some months' scraping, many a merry tune, such as would make the men kick up their heels irresistibly when they heard it. "There, D'Arcy," said my kind instructor, at the end of the tune; "now, my boy, whatever happens, and wherever you go, provided you can save your arms and your fiddle, you'll be a welcome guest, and will never want a morsel to put in your mouth." I found his words true; and on parting, he gave me one of his two fiddles, which he valued as much as any piece of property he possessed.--But I am forestalling events. We had been cruising about for several days in search of Myers, when one morning at daybreak, we found ourselves in the midst of a dense fog. It was literally so thick that one could not see from one end of the cutter to the other. Just the sort of weather, indeed, when, without unusual care, vessels are apt to run into each other. There was about wind sufficient to send us gliding through the water at the rate of three to four knots an hour; but the sea was perfectly smooth,--kept down, it seemed, by the very weight of the fog. One hand was stationed forward on the look-out, and two others on either quarter, to guard against our being run into, or our running into something else. The wind was about west, and our whereabouts was as nearly as could be half-way between Portland Bill and Berry Head. We were all on deck in our thick Flushing coats, for the fog in its effects was nearly like a shower-bath in regard to wetting us, and it hung in large drops like heavy dew on many a tarpaulin hat, bushy whisker, and shaggy jacket; while the sails were stiff and wet as if it had been raining hard all night. It was not a pleasant morning, but it might certainly have been very much worse in a hundred ways. We ran on for a couple of hours, with our main-boom over the larboard quarter, the tack triced up, and the peak-halyards eased off, for we had no reason to hurry. It was just about striking five-bells in the morning-watch, when, as I happened to cast my eyes ahead, I thought I saw a dark object looming through the mist. The look-out saw her at the same moment. "A sail on the starboard bow," he sung out in a low voice--for revenue men learn to be cautious. On hearing this, the Commander stepped forward, and I followed him. We could just