from the heather around them, save by the stream of blue smoke that lazily ascended into the morning air. And the emotion was complete when I felt the smell of the peat-reek as it came purified by the breath of the gentle breeze that bore it. A little inland from the shore, there are a number of cottar-houses that lie pretty close together; this appears to be a village; near by it is a church; and at a distance is a large, castle-like mansion. which appears to be the lord and master over these humbler abodes. But, lordly although this mansion may be, I felt that I could not let my eyes rest upon it; they were fixed upon the "lowly cottage hames;" and I thought upon the dwellers there until I almost imagined that I could think and feel as they did. And then I thought upon what means they could employ to earn a livelihood; for, far as the eye could reach, there was nothing to be seen but the bare moorland; no signs of cultivation, saving a small bit near by the little houses, which was laid out in a rig o' aits, anither o' bare, anither o' tawties, an' anither o' carrits, ingins, an' kail. Yet I could not think that they were not happy; for happiness seems to be so equally divided that if we look into the thing we will find that the happiness of the poor differs very little in amount from that of the rich. The mind that is accustomed with small things takes less to please it than the mind that is accustomed with great things. If we look to our own lives, we will find we have sources of enjoyment which cannot belong to those who are above us in worldly circumstances; and we must also allow that they have sources of enjoyment which cannot belong to us. In like manner, it is natural to suppose that those who are below us have sources of enjoyment which cannot belong to us, and that we have those which cannot belong to them; thus showing that each class of society has sources of enjoyment which do not belong to any other class; and thus showing the probability of all being equally happy.

On entering the Pentland firth, we were boarded by a pilot, and as we had been expecting him, we all had letters ready to send ashore. He told us that the village I have been speaking of was Hunnah; that the large house was the Duke of Sutherland's castle, and that the island we saw on our right hand was Stroma, one of the Orkney islands. He also told us that the little house close by the sea shore was John o' Groat's house. By this time we were so near to the shore that we could see everything quite distinctly. We were surprised to see that Johnny's house was in good repair, as we had always been accustomed to think of it as an old, ruinous sort of a bothy. But the pilot told us that the old house had been blown down, and that this was a modern house built on the site of the ancient one. The clump that we saw at the end of the house, he told us, was part of the old foundation. I may here mention that Johnny had not taken the precaution to build his house upon a rock, but had foolishly built it upon the sands, the consequence of which was, that the winds came and did beat upon it, &c.

As the morning was fair, and the way clear before us, we had no use for the pilot; so we gave him our letters and sent him ashore, the captain giving him, for his trouble, some money, a bottle of rum, and some tobacco; each of the sailors that sent a letter, gave him two sticks of negro-head; with all of which he seemed infinitely pleased.

There was a brig that entered the firth before us; but on coming up

from breakfast, we found we were overtaking her; and we soon walked out before her. On looking before us on the right hand side, we could see a large, dark headland, looming in the distance. This was Holyhead in Orkney. And here, again, the mate drew upon his legendary lore. He told us that one of the Scottish kings, while on a ramble in that part of the country, lost a diamond; and that, in dark nights, that diamond is still seen by the passing mariner, glistening on the face of the rock. He added that many a one had tried to find the diamond in the day-time, but that no mortal man had ever found it; and, in conclusion, he shook his head and gave a look, which meant more than he felt inclined to tell by words.

This being such a fine day, John, the passenger, who had been in bed ever since we left the Forth, ventured on deck; and to beguile the time, I sat down beside him. John is a raw-boned Highlander from BlairAthol. He is a tall fellow of about thirty, with fair hair and red whiskers. He is a shepherd. Gælic is his mother-tongue; but he can speak English fluently. Ever since he came on board, he has been looked upon in a green-horu sort of a light. He has been the victim of the mate's "long-bow;" the butt of Ireland's sly jokes; the object of Jerry's side-bursting humour, and the laughing-stock of the whole crew. Notwithstanding all this, it has been hinted among some of the wiser heads of them, that, in their opinion, there is more in John than what we think. John was in Leith fully more than a fortnight before we sailed; and while the vessel was in the dock, John was down regularly every day, and with his hands in his pockets stood looking on, or walked the length of the ship backwards and forwards along the quay, in the way he saw the custom-house " offisher" doing. He was once up in Edinburgh. When the vessel left the dock and went out into the roads, John went with her. The whole of the week that she lay there was remarkable for its storminess. Yet although John was subjected to the most wearisome, monotonous, and stomach-stirring rocking-although he was half-dead with sickness-he preferred being on board to being on shore. This week of sickness has reduced John from a strong, lusty, Highland shepherd, to the scare-crow that we sometimes see personated by a thin, sickly, over-wrought, under-fed weaver. John represents himself as being as weak 's a drap waater." And his description of seasickness is this:- Whiles, you know, I'll be thinkin' I'm in thee air, you know; and whiles I'll be thinkin' I'm down here, you know; and whiles I'll be thinkin' my head 'ill be downmost, you know; and whiles I'll be thinking my feet 'ill be upmost, you know; and whiles a lot of stars, you know, 'ill come dancing before me, you know; and no sooner will I be taking a plate of kail than I'll be spewing them up again, you know. That's just thee way of it, you know. I neevir thocht it wad be this way at aal. And my stomach cannit howld nothing neither, you know." But when we consider that John lies from morning to night and from night to morning in his bed, rolled up in two or three pairs of blankets and a plaid, it is no wonder that he is visited with such strange sensations and phantasms, as he so graphically describes. I have been trying to convince him that if he were to bide as much as possible on deck, he would soon be all right. But John says,—“ Oich, oich, I doo not know, I'm shure, really I doo not know what to doo at aal, I'm so weak, you know, just like a drap waater, you know. I cannit sit nor I cannit stand neither, you know."

This being Sunday, all the men washed and shaved themselves, and were more tidily dressed than on an every day; and they might be seen all afternoon, sitting about the windlass, reading their Bibles. Mr. Crowe, also, read two or three chapters and a sermon for the cabin.

CHAPTER V.-MONDAY, 7TH MARCH.

Was wakened as usual by Jerry. He is a most wonderful character is Jerry. He is above thirty; perhaps thirty five. In appearance he seems to be below the middle size; or he may just be the middle size; perhaps it is his thickness that makes him look below it. What shoulders! what arms! what hurdies! His face is of the most prepossessing kind; it is fat, and is quite in keeping with the rest of his person. His mouth, and particularly his eyes, are the beau ideal of humoursome mouths and eyes; the twinge at the outside corners of the latter bespeaks the richest drollery; and his whole features taken together, bespeak the utmost good-nature. Then to see Jerry with his hat off, you are actually forced to revere him for his large head, and lofty, Walter Scott-like, brow, even although the latter be not seen to advantage for his thick, towsie, black hair, which hangs in masses around the top of it, like dark clouds around the top of a snowy mountain. As I said before, Jerry is cook and steward; and in these capacities he shines pre-eminent. He cooks for the whole ship's company, the greatest variety of dishes, and always ready in time; never any waiting for Jerry. He seems to do every thing by a sort of witchcraft; for while every one is joking with Jerry and neglecting their work, Jerry is joking with every one and attending to his work too: the truth is, Jerry's work seems but a joke to him. If any of the men want anything, they have no more ado than ask Jerry for it. If any thing be lost the cry is-" Speer at Jerry aboot it." But this is not all. While Jerry attends to his own particular duties as cook and steward, he at the same time attends to the duties of the other men. When the captain sings out to take in a reef of the maintopsail, Jerry is the first to spring aloft. When anything of a hazardous nature has to be done, it is always Jerry that does it. The captain declares him to be the best reefer he ever saw; the men admire him, and take a pattern from him. When they are hoisting up a sail, Jerry always gives the "hoy" for keeping time. He is the friend of the apprentices, and lets them into the knack of doing a thing. In short, Jerry does everything that is required on board of a ship; and to enumerate all that he does or can do, would be an endless task. But what particularly strikes an on-looker, is the good-nature with which he does every thing.

To-day, we passed the Butt of Lewes. Towards afternoon," it came on to blow" a very heavy gale. The sea rose to an awful extent, and wheeled and tumbled about the ship as if the waves had been mad, sending the spray over us like snow. I stood on the deck, holding on by a ne, and watching the storm and the sea-birds as they shrieked above The men showed a great deal of activity in snodding the sails and very thing in order for withstanding the gale. Mr. Crowe, who with the cold, only popped up his head once, and as sudtakes very ill. vn again to sit by the fire. When I came down, I denly popped do.. the terribleness of the gale; but he told me it was a drop in the bucket to what he has seen, going

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putting

made a remark about nothing at all,—“ merely to the West Indies."

66

He is a

I do not know whether any of you have seen Mr. Crowe. thin, middle-sized chap of seven-and-twenty; dark brown hair, a little frizzley; face yellowfied by the West Indies; grey eyes; large teeth that project outwards like a horse's; spunkish legs, not very straight; and, withal, he has a rather delicate appearance. His father is a farmer, near Forfar. He went to the West Indies-to some store, I supposewhen quite a lad, as he says-though he must have been twenty-one; but the fact is, he wishes himself to be thought only twenty-four; however I see by the captain's custom-house papers that he is twenty-seven. He was six years in the West Indies; came home again; went out again; took fever, and came home in four months thereafter, thus making it twice he had been at the West Indies. He has, therefore, seen, thinks or pretends he has seen, a great deal of the world. He is continually talking about the West Indies : "One time when I was at the West Indies"--" the first time I was at the West Indies"--" the second time I was at the West Indies"- "the last time I was at the West Indies."-"The first time I crossed the Atlantic"- "" one time when I was crossing the Atlantic"- one time, I think it was the second time I crossed the Atlantic," &c., &c. And speaking of his mattress, he says, (and draws a long sigh of sweet recollections): "Ah, many a time I've crossed the Atlantic on that!" He speaks a great deal about the slaves; and his sketches are remarkable for their shallowness. When he tells us what they used to say to "Massa Crowe," he mimics them, which appeared to me to be very well done; but, telling us a story of a Dutchman one day, I found that he made him speak the same as he made the negro; and, another day, as he was mimicking Lloyd the play-actor as one of the Gipsies in the Heart of Mid Lothian, I was not a little astonished at hearing the negro again. I then began to think that his mimicry might be as like the negro as it was like Lloyd or the Dutchman. In short, I began to think he had only one way of mimicry, and that this was not a proper imitation of any thing human at all, but an imaginary mode of his own, and which he imagined he might make to suit any body or every body. I was even so bold as to form an opinion that Mr. Crowe was no mimic at all. It would be much better for him if he would not attempt to mimic; for nothing looks worse than mimicry when it is not an exact imitation.

He has a good forehead, large reflecting organs, especially causality. Consequently he is a good player at cards: but he takes too much pains to show you that he is so. When he dabs down his card, his knuckles always come with a rap of self-esteem upon the table; than which, nothing is more irritating to the rest of the players if they be losing; but if he be losing, nothing gives them greater pleasure than the consequential rap. When he catches the ten, he lets you know that it was in consequence of his superior playing: he merely hints this, how.ever. When he loses her, he shows you how utterly impossible it was for him to save her. In opposition to the appearance of his forehead, he is of a merry nature rather than a contemplative. It is not likely that he ever thinks of anything beyond the sphere of its own little self, or that is not connected with his own interests. And really it is astonishing to think that he who has seen so much of the world, has so little of a profitable or interesting nature to tell us about it. There are some who cannot bring their ideas into a suitable form for conveying them verbally

to others; but this is not the way with him. He will talk as much as you like about the different kinds of dishes-how they ought to be done, and what you ought to eat along with them; about wines, spirits, ales, &c., never forgetting to apply a host of technical terms, which nobody but spirit dealers and epicures know anything about. All of which would be interesting enough to us, if he would keep from running down the viands that we have on board, and from telling us that they are not like what he used to get in the West Indies. He will also speak about the blacks; how they were put in the tread-mill and flogged; how he used to laugh at the "dem'd rascals," and how the "devils' richly

deserved it!

"Jenny

He is fond of music; but it is the quick, lively sort. Nettles" is his favourite, and which he always requests me to play before any other, as it reminds him of an old sweetheart who "used to rattle it off on the piano when she heard him coming." He does not seem fully to appreciate the fine, slow airs. He is fond of singing; but is "timmer tuned," has a bad voice, which is altogether very offensive to the ear. He says he doesn't care for poetry, unless it be comic songs. He was reading the Lady of the Lake to-day, however; and he thinks that "Scott's is by far the best poetry we have!" He says that he does not like to read much, "because he would get too fond of it!" But what do you think? he skims over all the parts of a book that do not affect the thread of the story! This is the way with a great many novel-readers, but nothing appears more silly. What better are you of knowing a story if you do not attend to the beautiful descriptions and reflections that a good author never fails to combine with it? and these are just what the novel-skimmers pass over!

We have about a bale of newspapers on board. The "Times," the "Standard," &c. they are knocking about the cabin in all directions. These Mr. Crowe is busily employed in searching for the description of the young prince's baptism, and all other court news, intrigues and elopements in high life, and every other thing that pertaineth to lords and ladies. He speaks away to me, too, about these things, as if I knew anything about them. "It was a dem'd shame to use Lady in the manner they did," says he. "What manner ?" said I. "Why, you know, all the papers was full of it about three months ago-a most rascally thing. If I had been Lady I would seen them dem'd first she was related to royalty too;-what's her relationship again, Mr. Takimaff?" "Don' know I'm sure; never heard." He will then state what he thinks it is; after which, by a most elegant summation of lordly kin, he will show you that it must be so. He will then ask me questions regarding the most private affairs of the royal family, and of lords, dukes, ladies, and duchesses, that I never heard of before. I know not what can be his motives for speaking so much about these things, unless it be to show his acquaintance with them. I know he has a great ambition to be thought a "gentleman." Perhaps he thinks that to talk in this way is the chief characteristic of a gentleman. If it be, may the gods keep me from ever being a gentleman; for such insipid conversation is not fit for employing one moment of our time, unless it be that inanimate half hour after we have eaten a hearty dinner, and do not wish our minds to be drawn away from assisting the stomach in the operation of digestion. And yet, nothing is more delightful than to hear him