CHARLES WATERT0N, ESQ. XXXi 



I had a little adventure at Hull scarcely worth 

 recounting, saving for its singularity. As I 

 was standing at the window of the hotel, I saw 

 an old and weather-beaten tar, ruminating on 

 the quay which flanks the Humber ; and as I 

 had nothing to do at the time, I thought I 

 would go and have a little chat with him ; and 

 so, I took my hat and went to the place where 

 he was standing. u This is nearly the spot, my 

 honest tar," said I to him, <( where I first em- 

 barked for Spain in the brig Industry of this 

 port. It is just now forty years ago, and a 

 rough passage we had of it to Cadiz ; we were 

 all but ashore, one dark night at Cape St. Vin- 

 cent. The captain's name was Lettus ; but he 

 must be dead and buried long ago, for he was 

 then apparently quite at his best ; and what 

 with so long a war, and so many perils of the 

 sea, no doubt he is safely stowed away in 

 Davy's locker." " I saw him, Sir," said the tar, 

 " no later than yesterday morning." " And 

 where is he," said I ? " He is safely moored in 

 the house for poor decayed sea-captains, and he 

 is as well and as happy as is possible for a 

 man of his years to be." 



I bade my informer good-bye, and having 



