Inland scenery is his especial aversion. He despises a tree “before the mast,” and would give all the singing birds of Creation for a Boatswain’s whistle. He hates prospects, but enjoys retrospects. An old boat, a stray anchor, or decayed mooring ring, will set him dreaming for hours. He splices sea and land ideas together. He reads of “shooting off a tie at Battersea,” and it reminds him of a ball carrying away his own pigtail. “Canvassing for a situation,” recalls running with all sails set for a station at Aboukir. He has the advantage of our Economists as to the “Standard of Value,” knowing it to be the British ensign. The announcement of “an arrival of foreign vessels, with our ports open,” claps him into a Paradise of prize money, with Poll of the _Pint_. He wonders sometimes at “petitions to be discharged from the Fleet,” but sympathises with those in the Marshalsea Court, as subject to a Sea Court Martial. Finally, try him even in the learned languages, by asking him for the meaning of “Georgius Rex,” and he will answer, without hesitation, “The wrecks of the Royal George.” [Illustration: A GREENWICH PENSIONER.] [Illustration: ENJOYING THE “TAILS OF MY LANDLORD.”] THE BURNING OF THE LOVE LETTER. “Sometimes they were put to the proof, by what was called the Fiery Ordeal.”--HIST. ENG. No morning ever seemed so long!-- I tried to read with all my might: In my left hand “My Landlord’s Tales,” And threepence ready in my right. ’Twas twelve at last--my heart beat high!-- The Postman rattled at the door!-- And just upon her road to church, I dropt the “Bride of Lammermoor!” I seized the note--I flew up stairs-- Flung-to the door, and locked me in-- With panting haste I tore the seal-- And kissed the B in Benjamin! ’Twas full of love--to rhyme with dove-- And all that tender sort of thing-- Of sweet and meet--and heart and dart-- But not a word about a ring! In doubt I cast it in the flame, And stood to watch the latest spark-- And saw the love all end in smoke-- Without a Parson and a Clerk! SKETCHES ON THE ROAD. THE DILEMMA “Read! it’s very easy to say read.”--THE BURGOMASTER. “I have trusted to a reed.”--OLD PROVERB. “Hoy!--Cotch!--Co-ach!--Coachy!--Coachee--hullo!--holloo!--woh!--wo-hoay!--wough-hoaeiouy!”--for the last cry was a waterman’s, and went all through the vowels.