"Well, thin, Tom's fayther wor a-sottin' in the armchair, ez I wor a- sayin' whin you put me off me coorse, Larry, ye baste. Tom wor goin' on ahid, wid `Gyp' a-kapin' behoind him, an' Oi, sure, behoind him agin wid Miss Jenny, whin the monkey Jocko, who wor alongside of Tom's fayther, catches sight of `Gyp,' and makes for the to'-gallant crosstrees ov the mulberry-tree, faith. Now, Larry, ye moost rimimber the owld cockatoo `Ally Sloper' wor alriddy oop there aloft; an' whin the burrd says Jocko makin' fur him, he oop stick, or rayther oop wid his crist an' flies down roight atop ov Tom's hid, shraykin' out, `Say-rah, Say-rah!' as loud as the divvle could bawl. `Gyp' on this starts barkin' loike mad at the blissid cockatoo; whin down cooms Masther Jocko fur to have his share in the foight. Begorrah, ye nivver sayd sich a rumpus in yer loife, Larry, 'specially whin Tom's fayther got overturned in his armchair an' Misthress Bowlin' came out fur to say wot all the row was about; whoile Miss Jenny an' Tom an' me, sure, wor all a-dyin' wid larfin', bedad!" I may add, in conclusion, that Mick and I went from the depot to the _Excellent_, to go through a regular course of gunnery, preparatory to our aspiring to the grade of `petty officer'; and I hope, as my old friend the `Jaunty' of the _Saint Vincent_ prophesied, to rise bye-and- bye to the rank of `warrant.' It is a pity, though, that no chance is yet afforded in our service in the present day, as used to be the case in the past, when many an admiral `crept through the hawsehole,' as the saying was, for respectable young fellows of good education and bright abilities to look any higher; but, it is to be hoped that the day will come, as father's old friend Captain Mordaunt said only the other day when talking to us both under the old mulberry-tree in our garden, when this state of things will be changed, and a boy who enters the service as I did on board one of our training-ships, will, as Bonaparte said the conscript carried a field-marshal's baton in his knapsack, keep snugly stowed away an admiral's cocked hat in his ditty box! However, be that as it may, and whether I ever rise to quarter-deck rank or not, I have not a single regret at having ever joined the Navy; for, no one glories more than I in serving our Queen and country under the grand old flag that floats supreme over every sea where ship may sail. Aye, and my proud boast is that I am still `Young Tom Bowling,' my dear old father being yet alive; and that I am one of `the Boys of the British Navy.' THE END.