I had been deeply interested in his narrative, which he related with peculiar feeling, and some parts were almost dramatised by his singular gestures and manner. “And what became of the boatswain’s wife?” I inquired. “Fanny Martin, sir?” he replied; “why I think she left La Guayra in a neutral, and so got to Halifax, but I arn’t quite sure.” “And now, then,” said I, “for some account of her recapture. Can you tell me how it happened, and what the picture before us is actually designed to represent?” “Why no, your honour, I can’t do that exactly,” rejoined he, “seeing as I knows but little about it; but there’s a messmate of mine yonder who was on that station at the time, and can give you the particulars; but he’s a dry soul, your honour, and mayhap would like a taste of the spirit-room, if your honour has no objections; ’twill loose his tongue a bit, and give it freer play.” “One word for my friend and two for myself,” thought I; but sensible that “freshening the nip” would prevent too much chafing, I readily consented, and the old blades _piped_ to grog with a _gusto_ that can only be acquired by long habit. We were soon seated in a comfortable room overlooking the Thames. It was nearly high-water, and the middle of summer; a delightful breeze tempered the heat, the green fields looked beautifully below and opposite to us, whilst the vessels were rapidly passing and chequering the scene with their white sails. The steamers, too, were swiftly cutting through the yielding element, and the whole presented a spectacle of commercial wealth that can be witnessed on no other river in the world. I own I feel a very great pride in contemplating the glory and the gratitude of my country; and when I see her gallant tars who have braved the war of elements and battled the enemies of England, snugly enjoying their _old age_ in their _berths_, chewing their _pigtail_ with a knowing _quid pro quo_, and occasionally cheering the heart with the balsam that maketh it glad, I cannot help exclaiming, “nobly should a grateful country be served, and thus be rewarded her brave defenders!” Besides, within the small compass of this beautiful place, we can meet with practical information from every part of the globe. Talk of your geographies! here are the living _pages_ that wait on Time,--men that have breakfasted on a whale with the Esquimaux, dined on an elephant with the Hottentots, and supped upon a snake sixty feet long with the Red Indians;--men who have bearded the lions, shook paws with the tiger, and rode races on alligators. They have seen the holy city, visited the ancient capitol of the world, and have passed over the identical spot where Jonah was swallowed by the whale. Greenwich Hospital is a very storehouse for knowledge,--a perfect College, in which the old tars take their _degrees_ as natural as when running down a trade-wind,--have their _senior wranglers_, their M.A. for master-at-arms, their B.A. for boatswain’s-assistant, enjoy good