CEAB LORE. 153 



body, which rambling jack-tars sometimes gather for their friends at home, under the idea that 

 their shells, when cut and polished, will make handsome brooches and shirt-pins. Major Lord 

 tells a good story of a dry old salt of a quartermaster, on the Indian station, who " chanced 

 one day, when on shore for a cruise, to become possessed of a goodly number of these lucky, 

 stones, as he called them, and by way of securing his treasures, placed them in an old 

 silk handkerchief, and stowed them away, with a few dollars and sundry cakes of cavendish, 



THE WEST INDIAN LAND CKAB (GcCarcitMS rur 



in the corner of his chest. It so happened that some piratical shipmate, not proof 

 against the allurements of honey dew and silver, but totally indifferent to natural history, 

 seized his opportunity and spirited off the tobacco and money, but left the lucky-stones 

 behind. The next day, when our old friend came for his accustomed supply of the weed, 

 he, to his horror, astonishment, and indignation, found the supposed pebbles in active 

 motion, performing foot-races over his best jacket, the handkerchief spread open, and, alas ! 

 empty. ' Well ! ' exclaimed he ; ' blow me if this aint too much of the monkey ! Why, 

 look ye here, messmates ! These here blessed stones have come to life, every man Jack of 

 'em. They've chawed up all my bacca, and spent every mag of my money ! and now I'll 

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