The arrival of the mail-bag is a season of peculiar interest on board a man of war. It calls the finer feelings of human nature into exercise. It awakens conjugal, fraternal, and filial affection in almost every breast. The men crowd around, as the letters are distributed, and he was pronounced a happy fellow whose name was read off by the distributor; while those who had none, to hide their disappointment, would jocularly offer to buy those belonging to their more fortunate messmates. During the two years of our absence I had received several letters from my mother, which afforded me much satisfaction. To these I had faithfully replied. I now experienced the advantage of the primary education I had received when a boy. Many of my shipmates could neither read nor write, and were, in consequence either altogether deprived of the privilege of intercourse with their friends, or were dependent on the kindness of others, to read and write for them. For these I acted as a sort of scribe. I also solaced many weary hours by reading such works as could be obtained from the officers; and sometimes I perused the Bible and prayer book which my mother so wisely placed in my chest, on the eve of my departure. The pack of cards, which so inappropriately accompanied them, I had loaned to one of the officers, who took the liberty to keep them. This was, perhaps, more fortunate than otherwise, since their possession might have led to their use, and their use might have excited a propensity to gambling, which would have ended in my ruin.