“An old acquaintance! In what latitude might it be that we first fell in with each other?” “I believe I first enjoyed that honour, quite thirty years since, under the Equator.” “Ay, ay, I’m often there, looking out for India-men and your homeward-bound Brazil traders. I boarded a particularly great number that very season but can’t say I remember your countenance.” “I fear that thirty years have made some changes in it,” returned the governess, with a smile, which, though mournful, was far too dignified in its melancholy to induce the suspicion that she regretted a loss so vain as that of her personal charms. “I was in a vessel of the King, and one that was a little remarkable by its size, since it was of three decks.” The God received the guinea, which was now secretly offered, but it would seem that success had quickened his covetousness; for, instead of returning thanks, he rather appeared to manifest a disposition to increase the amount of the bribe. “All this may be just as your Ladyship says,” he rejoined; “but the interest of my kingdom, and a large family at home, make it necessary that I should look sharp to my rights. Was there a flag in the vessel?” “There was.” “Then, it is likely they hoisted it, as usual, at the end of the jib-boom?” “It was hoisted, as is usual with a Vice-Admiral, at the fore.” “Well answered, for petticoats!” muttered the Deity, a little baffled in his artifice. “It is d——d queer, saving your Ladyship’s presence, that I should have forgotten such a ship: Was there any thing of the extraordinary sort, that one would be likely to remember?” The features of the governess had already lost their forced pleasantry, in a shade of grave reflection and her eye was evidently fastened on vacancy us she answered, to all appearance like one who thought aloud.— “I can, at this moment, see the arch and roguish manner with which that wayward boy, who then had but eight years, over-reached the cunning of the mimic Neptune, and retaliated for his devices, by turning the laugh of all on board on his own head!” “Was he but eight?” demanded a deep voice at her elbow. “Eight in years, but maturer in artifice,” returned Mrs Wyllys, seeming to awake from a trance, as she turned her eyes full upon the face of the Rover. “Well, well,” interrupted the captain of the forecastle who cared not to continue an inquiry in which his dreaded Commander saw fit to take a part, “I dare say it is all right. I will look into my journal if I find it so, well—if not, why, it’s only giving the ship a head-wind, until I’ve overhauled the Dane, and then it will be all in good time to receive the balance of the fee.”