e people were called down from the yards, and
the drum beat to quarters.

To quarters we went; and there we stood up by our iron bull-dogs, while
our royal and noble visitors promenaded along the batteries, breaking
out into frequent exclamations at our warlike array, the extreme
neatness of our garments, and, above all, the extraordinary polish of
the _bright-work_ about the great guns, and the marvellous whiteness of
the decks.

"Que gosto!" cried a Marquis, with several dry goods samples of ribbon,
tallied with bright buttons, hanging from his breast.

"Que gloria!" cried a crooked, coffee-coloured Viscount, spreading both
palms.

"Que alegria!" cried a little Count, mincingly circumnavigating a
shot-box.

"Que contentamento he o meu!" cried the Emperor himself, complacently
folding his royal arms, and serenely gazing along our ranks.

_Pleasure, Glory_, and _Joy_--this was the burden of the three noble
courtiers. _And very pleasing indeed_--was the simple rendering of Don
Pedro's imperial remark.

"Ay, ay," growled a grim rammer-and-sponger behind me; "it's all
devilish fine for you nobs to look at; but what would you say if you
had to holy-stone the deck yourselves, and wear out your elbows in
polishing this cursed old iron, besides getting a dozen at the gangway,
if you dropped a grease-spot on deck in your mess? Ay, ay, devilish
fine for you, but devilish dull for us!"

In due time the drums beat the retreat, and the ship's company
scattered over the decks.

Some of the officers now assumed the part of cicerones, to show the
distinguished strangers the bowels of the frigate, concerning which
several of them showed a good deal of intelligent curiosity. A guard of
honour, detached from the marine corps, accompanied them, and they made
the circuit of the berth-deck, where, at a judicious distance, the
Emperor peeped down into the cable-tier, a very subterranean vault.

The Captain of the Main-Hold, who there presided, made a polite bow in
the twilight, and respectfully expressed a desire for His Royal Majesty
to step down and honour him with a call; but, with his handkerchief to
his Imperial nose, his Majesty declined. The party then commenced the
ascent to the spar-deck; which, from so great a depth in a frigate, is
something like getting up to the top of Bunker Hill Monument from the
basement.

While a crowd of people was gathered about the forward part of the
booms, a sudden cry was heard from belo