To return to our little Baltic cruiser--I have only given the broad features of what I consider to be the most fitting craft. As for the details of rig, cabin arrangements, and so forth, each man knows best what he requires. But were I having such a boat made ready for myself, she should be built of oak. Her sides and leeboard should not be painted, but be varnished and kept brightly polished after the Dutch fashion--boiled oil and rosin is the mixture for the purpose. She should have a small well. There should be the usual hatch on the cabin-roof to slide back and facilitate entrance to the cabin; but, instead of the usual cabin-doors, I should have a water-tight bulkhead between the well and cabin, with only a small square opening at the top, which could be closed with a sliding shutter when necessary. The cabin would then be kept snug and dry. It is, of course, the right thing for the skipper of a small vessel to run for a port when bad weather is coming on; but this cannot always be done, and it is by far the wiser policy to remain on the open sea and make the best of it than to rush blindly before the gale towards a harbour whose dangers and difficulties are unknown to one. I remember once being with some men who, because the sea was rather ugly, were very anxious to run into a most dangerous river mouth, to the almost certain perdition of our vessel. This was the suggestion of panic, but they called it prudence. Some small vessels, even though they be rather shallow, like the one I am speaking of, can claw off a lee shore in pretty heavy weather. Unless one have the misfortune to be embayed, there is generally one tack on which the boat can keep off the land--despite the leeway--well snugged down, with as little head-sail as possible on her, and forging slowly ahead all the time. But on such occasions there must be a good man at the tiller. Mr. ----, the most skilful sailor of small craft we have ever had, who used to knock about single-handed in all sorts of weather, and who, it will be remembered, at last died alone of heart-disease on his vessel in mid-channel--a fitting death for such a man--made it a rule to beat to sea instead of running for a port on the appearance of bad weather. He proved what can be done with a tiny yacht properly handled. But then he was a consummate seaman--so much so, indeed, that those who knew him affirm that no other man than he could have performed some of his exploits.