illy soon proved that
strong intellectual powers were among the other advantages which he had
received from nature.

The _Aspasia_ flew before the trade winds, and in a few weeks arrived at
Barbadoes, where Captain M--- found orders left by the admiral of the
station, directing him to survey a dangerous reef of rocks to the
northward of Porto Rico, and to continue to cruise for some weeks in
that quarter, after the service had been performed. In three days the
frigate was revictualled and watered; and the officers had barely time
to have their sea arrangements completed, before the frigate again
expanded her canvas to a favourable breeze. In a few hours the island
was left so far astern as to appear like the blue mist which so often
deceives the expectant scanner of the horizon.

"You Billy Pitt! is all my linen come on board?"

"Yes, sar," replied Billy, who was in Courtenay's cabin; "I make bill
out; just now cast up multerpication of whole."

"I'm afraid you very often use multiplication in your addition, Mr
Billy."

"True bill, sar," replied Billy, coming out of the cabin, and handing a
paper to Courtenay.

"What's this?--nineteen tarts! Why, you black thief, I never had any
tarts."

"Please let me see, sar," said Billy, peering over his shoulder. "Yes,
sar, all right--I count em. Tell washerwoman put plenty of tarch in
collar."

"Shirts, you _nigger_--why don't you learn to spell with that dictionary
of yours?"

"Know how to spell very well, sar," replied Billy, haughtily; "that my
way spell `_tarts_.'"

"`Fourteen tockin, seventeen toul.'--You do know how to spell to a T."

"Massa Courtenay, doctor not write same way you write."

"Well, Mr Billy."

"You not write same way me--ebery gentleman write different hand. Now,
if ebery gentleman write his own way, why not ebery gentleman spell his
own way? Dat my way to spell, sar," continued Billy, very much
affronted.

"I can't argue with you now, Mr Billy--there's one bell after four
striking, and I have hardly had a glass of wine, from your bothering me.
Upon my soul, its excessively annoying."

"One bell, Mr Courtenay!" cried Jerry at the gun-room door; "Mr Price
will thank you to relieve him."

"I say, Mr Prose," continued Jerry, as he passed through the steerage
to return on deck, "I'll just trouble you to hand your carcase up as
soon as convenient."

"Directly, Jerry,--I--will--but my tea--is so hot."

"Well, then leave it, and I'll