During the supper he does not do much until the ladies have left, and then he falls to with surprising vigour, and calling the footman on one side, inquires whether there is any malt to be had. When the beer arrives he professes an intense contempt for champagne, and says that as far as he is concerned a glass of two-water grog is better than all the wine in the Docks, especially when one's on deck at night; all which causes the younger men of the party to look upon him as a very dashing sort of a fellow. And if by any chance he is asked for a song, he is sure to squall "I'm afloat," or "A Life on the Ocean Wave," though his knowledge of such a state of existence must be very limited, for he has seldom been beyond the Nore, and at farthest to Ramsgate,—excepting, by-the-by, once, when we believe he did get as far as the Isle of Wight, during the Cowes Regatta. Nevertheless, a life in his father's country-house would be more in character with his habits. And when the party is breaking up the Yachting Man is seen in the Hall putting on a very rough Pea-Jacket, with large horn buttons, and a cap with a gold-lace band round it. He says something about it's being time to turn in, as four bells have gone; and having lit a cigar at the hall-lamp, he finally disappears, chanting— "Good-night!—All's well." [Illustration: A GOOD PENNY-WORTH. ] THE COMIC ALMANACK FOR 1848. A NEW OPENING FOR VALENTINES.