1825.) ° 
forth a nocturnal hymn. 
“Soon as the rosy morn had waked 
the day,” I could not restrain myself 
from taking a peep at my companions. 
The night having been warm, the doors 
of the hammocks were all open, and 
displayed a group that would have been 
invaluable to a comic painter,—all the 
variety of features, from Heidigger to 
Narcissus. Where so many were excel- 
lent, it would be invidious to particu- 
larize, as a doubtful critic has often said, 
“but one I would select from that proud 
throng.’ At a vertical angle to that 
_which I was upon, lay supine, like Poly- 
pheme, and almost as huge, one who, 
to give additional fervours to his fully- 
illuminated countenance, had. drawn 
over his brows a red nightcap. ‘The 
slumbers of infancy are exquisitely 
beautiful (so Byron’s verse has told us); 
but in after-age, in the male sex, a comic 
effect almost generally attends them. 
The unstrung tone of the features, where 
usually sit thought and anxiety,—the 
elevated nose,—the open mouth ! 
“ Fate, drop the curtain, I can paint no 
more !” 
I would not willingly add terrors to the 
married state. My risible propensities 
were kept in play, as the different in- 
mates of the “lowly beds”? commenced 
the duties of the toilette. One, bent.on 
blood, with his razor in his hand, mak- 
ing ineffectual attempts at his snow- 
topped cheeks. On the other side, a 
thin, cadaverous-looking man, making 
an endeavour to inflate his lantern-jaws 
to the form of a circle, which was con- 
tinually rendered abortive by the opera- 
tion of the ship’s motion upon his sto- 
mach. . Another, like Tantalus, endea- 
youring in vain to lift the liquid to his 
mouth, while it eternally receded from 
his touch. 
Having gained the deck, the fresh air 
on which is rendered doubly welcome 
from its opposition to the quality of that 
below, a most animating scene presented 
itself. The vessel, moving at the rate of 
seven or eight miles (nautical knots), 
through a fine, clear, crisp sea, with just 
undulating motion enough to make you 
sensible that you were not on land; the 
various vessels, raising their ornamented 
heads in honour to the genius of man; 
the bracing tone of the air, gently modi- 
fied by the coming forth of the Conque- 
ror of the East in all his glory,—all 
united to eleyate and gratify the mind. 
Perhaps one of the reasons why the 
sea impresses us with more wonder than 
A Tour to Leith. 
deep and dreadful organ-pipe,” pealed _ 
3t 
the land, is, that any portion of it, being 
a direct sample of the whole, and differ- 
ing only in extent, the mind more readily 
recognizes its vastness by the power of 
multiplication; whereas the land is so 
diversified, that no one part aids us in 
conceiving the whole. 
We reached Yarmouth with little 
variation of the strength of the wind. 
Off Yarmouth, we were hailed by a 
boat, having on board a dashing youth; 
whose introduction I notice, for the 
contrast which it afforded to the style of 
communication between persons at sea 
and on land. How tame the.index-finger, 
uplifted to the first coach on the stand 
at Bridge-street, to the wave of the hat, 
and stentorian breathing of “Smack a 
hoy! will you put me ashore at Scar- 
bro’ ?” Another moment, the boat was 
alongside,—the next, our hero on deck. 
Troops that fight in their entrenchments 
are generally beaten. We all instinc- 
tively fell back from a lovely Scots girl, 
who till now had monopolized the atten- 
tions of all on board. In fact, a sea- 
horse, or a water-spout, or a whale, any 
thing rather than a dashing naval youth, 
would have been welcome: he fairly 
cleared the deck, as I was told (for I 
went below to a volume of Seneca), 
took our fair one’s arm in his, and 
“marked her for his own.” Never did 
mariners long distressed at sea behold 
the signal for a boat hoisted with greater 
joy than did (at Scarborough) the 
ex-admirers of the Scots enchantress. 
Our rival descended from the deck, with 
the same grace, but not the same ala- 
crity, with which he had gained it: the 
want of haste did not seem to injure his 
reputation with the lady. After his 
departure, there was that sort of void 
which occasionally occurs after a witty 
sally of an individual in conversation :— 
the brow of the conqueror, wearing the 
wreath of victory, looks tempting, but 
each fears to get his head sconced in 
the attempt for the next. For myself, 
being, like Othello, “somewhat in the 
vale of years,” the fire of gallantry is 
not easily revived after it has once been 
quenched ; it was Beauty versus Seneca, 
and Philosophy, for once, carried the 
day. 
A young and interesting Frenchman 
entered the lists with Miss R., and culi- 
nary affairs coming on the fapis, it was 
not a little amusing to hear the pertina- 
city with which he defended the merits 
of the frog, pour une bonne bouche. 
After a passage of nearly the same 
rapidity as the mail, we arrived at ——’s 
hotel, 
‘ 
