rogation; "plenty
to drink, and always a-dry."

But as I do not wish to swell my narrative, and have no doubt but the
reader will be glad to leave this pestilential climate, I shall inform
him, that for three years the _Aspasia_ continued on the station, daily
encountering the usual risks of battle, fire, and wreck; and that at the
end of that period the health of Captain M--- was so much injured, by
the climate and his own exertions, that he requested permission to quit
the station.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

_Sir Bash_.
This idol of my heart is--my own wife!
_Love_.
Your own wife?
_Sir Bash_.
Yes, my own wife. 'Tis all over with me: I am undone.
THE WAY TO KEEP HIM.

"Show us something new." Such was the cry of men at the time of the
Prophet, and such it will continue until all prophecies are
accomplished, all revelations confirmed. Man is constant in nought but
inconsistency. He is directed to take pattern from the industrious bee,
and lay up the sweet treasures which have been prepared for his use; but
he prefers the giddy flight of the butterfly, pursuing his idle career
from flower to flower, until, fatigued with the rapidity of his motions,
he reposes for a time, and revolves in his mind where he shall bend his
devious way in search of "something new."

This is the fatal propensity by which our first parents fell, and which,
inherited by us, is the occasion of our follies and our crimes. "Were
man but constant, he were perfect;" but that he cannot be. He is aware
of the dangers, the hardships of travel--of the difference between
offices performed by an interested and heartless world, and the sweet
ministering of duty and affection. He feels that home, sweet home, is
the heaven of such imperfect bliss as this world can bestow; yet, wander
he must, that he may appreciate its value: and although he hails it with
rapture, soon after his return it palls upon him, and he quits it again
in search of variety. Thus is man convinced of the beauty of Virtue,
and acknowledges the peace that is to be found in her abode yet,
propelled by the restless legacy of our first parents, he wanders into
the entangled labyrinths of vice--until, satisfied that all is vexation,
he retraces his steps in repentance and disgust. Thus he passes his
existence in sinning, repenting, and sinning again, in search of
"something new."

When Mr Rainscourt was first separated from his wife, he felt himself
released f