It was on the close of a sultry day in August, about the end of the French war, that a carriage was slowly wending its way down one of the principal streets of the town of Berwick. The dust with which it was covered, and the jaded appearance of the horses, seemed to betoken that it came from a distance. The postilion, a pursy little man, whose rosy face bore the indubitable marks of a worshipper at the shrine of Bacchus, drew up at the first inn which presented itself to view. Out of the carriage stepped a young man who was plainly dressed in the garb of a sailor. He had nothing particular about his dress to distinguish him from the common run of seamen; but his upright figure, and that indescribable something which is peculiar to a “certain class,” and which serves to distinguish them from those in humbler situations in life, at first sight shewed that he belonged to the former. He appeared to be about twenty-six years of age, while his weather-beaten face, and a slight scar on his left cheek, shewed that he had borne both “the battle and the breeze.” He was accompanied by a squat muscular-looking fellow, who seemed to act in the capacity of servant; although his sea jargon and hard horny hands shewed him to be more accustomed to the duty of a sailor than that of a lacquey. After seeing that their baggage was properly taken care of, they retired together to a private room. “Well, Bill,” said he who seemed the superior to his companion, “how do you feel after your ride? For my part, I would sooner sail round the world in a gale of wind, and the ship pitching bows under all the time, than be again jammed up and jostled in that infernal cage.” “Why, sir,” rejoined his companion, “I am as sore as if I had been soundly thrashed with a handspike; but, howd-soever, that doesn’t matter—we must look out for squalls on land as well as on sea, till we are fairly housed either under ground or in Davy Jones.” “Take my spy-glass,” said the young officer, “walk down to the shore, and see if our little hooker is appearing in sight yet.” “As I take it,” replied Bill, “she can’t be far _astarn_ of us, for she has had a spanking breeze all day.” So saying, snatching up his hat, he was preparing to quit the room, when the officer bawled out— “’Vast there, my lad—I’ll accompany you.” And they both descended together.