THE CRUISE OF THE MIDGE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "TOM CRINGLE'S LOG." [Transcriber's note: Author is Michael Scott] "ON LIFE'S VAST OCEAN DIVERSELY WE SAIL, REASON THE CARD, BUT PASSION IS THE GALE." ESSAY ON MAN IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH; AND T. CADELL, STRAND, LONDON. MDCCCXXXVI. EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND CO., PAUL'S WORK. CONTENTS OF VOLUME SECOND. CHAP. I. A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE II. A VISION--THE DYING BUCANIER III. SCENES IN HAVANNA IV. A CRUISE IN THE MOUNTAINS--EL CAFETAL V. THE MOSQUITO VI. SPIRITING AWAY--WHERE IS THE BALLAHOO? VII. THE DEVIL'S GULLY VIII. MY UNCLE IX. OCCIDENTAL VAGARIES X. THE MOONBEAM XI. THE BREAKING WAVE XII. THE END OF THE YARN THE CRUISE OF THE MIDGE. CHAPTER I. A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE. I must either have been weaker, or the opiate stronger than the doctor expected, for it was near midnight before I awoke. Although still very low and faint, I felt much refreshed and invigorated. For some time I lay enjoying the coolness of the night air, and listening to the chirping of the crickets, in the crevices of the lofty roof. There was not the smallest noise besides to be heard in the house, and every thing without was equally still. At my bedside, on the right hand, there stood a small old-fashioned ebony table, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, with several phials, a bottle of wine, and glasses on it, an open book, the leaves kept down on one side by a most enticing uncut pine-apple, and a large brown wax candle, burning dimly in its tall massive silver candlestick. A chair of the same substance and antique character, and richly carved, was set beside this table, over the high perpendicular back of which hung a seaman's jacket, and a black silk neckerchief, as if the wearer had recently been reading beside me, and very possibly watching me. I listened--all continued silent; and I turned, but still with great pain, towards the open window or balcony that projected into and overhung the neighbouring thoroughfare. The moonlight streamed through the casement, and, with a sensation of ineffable pleasure, I gloated on the bright stars beyond, deep set into the dark blue sky, while the cool night breeze, charged with the odour of the pine-apple, breathed gently, and oh! how passing sweetly, on my feverish temples!