poodle-dogs, one white man-servant, one black ditto, and the Canon of
------, and the six nine-pound field-pieces, and sailed for the Cove of
Cork.

It was blowing hard as we stood in for the Old Head of Kinsale--pilot
boat breasting the foaming surge like a sea gull--_Carrol Cove_ in her
tiny mainsail--pilot jumped into the main channel--bottle of rum swung
by the lead line into the boat--all very clever.

Ran in, and anchored under Spike Island. A line-of-battle ship, three
frigates, and a number of merchantmen at anchor--men-of-war lovely
craft--bands playing--a good deal of the pomp and circumstances of war.
Next forenoon, Mr. Treenail, the second lieutenant, sent for me.

"Mr. Cringle," said he, "you have an uncle in Cork, I believe?"

I said I had.

"I am going there on duty to-night; I daresay, if you asked the captain
to let you accompany me, he would do so." This was too good an offer
not to be taken advantage of. I plucked up courage, made my bow, asked
leave, and got it; and the evening found my friend the lieutenant, and
myself, after a ride of three hours, during which I, for one, had my
bottom sheathing grievously rubbed, and a considerable botheration at
crossing the Ferry at Passage, safe in our inn at Cork. I soon found
out that the object of my superior officer was to gain information
amongst the crimp shops, where ten men who had run from one of the West
Indiamen, waiting at Cove for convoy, were stowed away, but I was not
let further into the secret; so I set out to pay my visit, and after
passing a pleasant evening with my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Job Cringle,
the lieutenant dropped in upon us about nine o'clock. He was heartily
welcomed; and under the plea of our being obliged to return to the ship
early next morning, we soon took leave, and returned to the inn. As I
was turning into the public room, the door was open, and I could see it
full of blowsy-faced monsters, glimmering and jabbering, through the
midst of hot brandy grog and gin twist; with poodle Benjamins, and
greatcoats, and cloaks of all sorts and sizes, steaming on their pegs,
with Barcelonas and comforters, and damp travelling caps of seal-skin,
and blue cloth, and tartan, arranged above the same. Nevertheless,
such a society in my juvenile estimation, during my short _escapade_
from the middy's berth, had its charms, and I was rolling in with a
tolerable swagger, when Mr. Treenail pinched my arm.

"Mr. Cringle, come here