I was fairly beaten. Cast-iron could not have
stood it. I was prostrated in bed with fever
—and worse.' Ferdinand was agitated, and
took a large draught of his lemonade.

'Well, well, you need not enlarge upon that,'
replied Phil Fid, raising his glass towards his
lips, but again thinking better of it; 'I heard
how bad you were from Seton, who shaved
your head.'

'I had scarcely recovered when the "Arrow"
was ordered back, and I made a vow.'

'Took the pledge, perhaps!' interjected
the mid, with a slight curl of his lip.

'No! I determined to work more and play
less. We had a capital naval instructor
aboard, and our commander was as good an
officer as ever trod the deck. I studied—a
little too hard perhaps, for I was laid up
again. The "Arrow" was, as usual, as good as
her name, and we shot across to Jamaica in
five weeks. One evening as we were lying in
Kingston harbour, Seton, who had come over
to join the Commodore as full surgeon, told
me what he had never ventured to divulge
before.'

'What was that?'

'Why, that, on the very day I left London,
James Barber died of a frightful attack of
delirium tremens!'

'Poor Jemmy!' said the elder Fid sorrowfully,
taking a long pull of consolation from
his rummer. 'Little did I think, while singing
some of your best songs off Belem Castle, that
I had seen you for the last time!'

'I hadn't seen him for the last time,' returned
the lieutenant, with awful significance.

Philip assumed a careless air, and said,
'Go on.'

'We were ordered home in eighteen forty-
five, and paid off in January. I went to
Portsmouth; was examined, and passed as
lieutenant.'

This allusion to his brother's better condition
made poor Philip look rather blank.

'On being confirmed at the Admiralty,'
continued Ferdinand, 'I had to give a
dinner to the "Arrows;" which I did at the
Salopian, Charing Cross. In the excess of
my joy at promotion, my determination of
temperance and avoidance of what is called
"society" was swamped. I kept it up once
more; I went the "rounds," and accepted
all the dinner, supper, and ball invitations I
could get, invariably ending each morning
in one of the old haunts of dissipation. Old
associations with James Barber returned, and
like causes produced similar effects. One
morning while maundering home, I began to
feel the same wild confusion as had previously
commenced my dreadful malady.'

'Ah! a little touched in the top-hamper.'

'It was just daylight. Thinking to cool
myself, I jumped into a wherry to get pulled
down here to Greenwich.'

'Of course you were not quite sober.'

'Don't ask! I do not like even to allude
to my sensations, for fear of recalling them.
My brain seemed in a flame. The boat
appeared to be going at the rate of twenty miles
an hour. Fast as we were cleaving the
current, I heard my name distinctly called out.
I reconnoitred, but could see nobody. I looked
over on one side of the gunwale, and, while
doing so, felt something touch me from the
other; I felt a chill; I turned round and
saw—- '

'Whom?' asked the midshipman, holding
his breath.

'What seemed to be James Barber.'

'Was he wet?'

'As dry as you are.'

'I summoned courage to speak. "Hallo!
some mistake!" I exclaimed.

'"Not at all," was the reply. "I'm James
Barber. Don't be frightened, I'm harmless."

'"But—-"

'"I know what you are going to say,"
interrupted the intruder. "Seton did not deceive
you—I am only an occasional visitor up
here.''

'This brought me up with a round turn,
and I had sense enough to wish my friend
would vanish as he came. "Where shall we
land you?" I asked.

'"Oh, any where—it don't matter. I have
got to be out every night and all night; and
the nights are plaguy long just now."

'I could not muster a word.

'"Ferd Fid," continued the voice, which
now seemed about fifty fathoms deep; and fast
as we were dropping down the stream, the
boat gave a heel to starboard, as if she had
been broadsided by a tremendous wave—"Ferd
Fid, you recollect how I used to kill time; how I
sang, drank, danced, and supped all night long,
and then slept and soda-watered it all day?
You remember what a happy fellow I seemed.
Fools like yourself thought I was so; but I
say again, I wasn't," growled the voice, letting
itself down a few fathoms deeper. "Often
and often I would have given the world to
have been a market-gardener or a dealer in
chick-weed while roaring 'He is a jolly good
fellow,' and 'We won't go home till morning!'
as I emerged with a group from some
tavern into Covent Garden market. But I'm
punished fearfully for my sins now. What
do you think I have got to do every night of
my—never mind—what do you think is now
marked out as my dreadful punishment?"

'"Well, to walk the earth, I suppose," said I.

'"No."

'"To paddle about in the Thames from sun-
set to sun-rise?"

'" Worse. Ha! ha!" (his laugh sounded
like the booming of a gong). "I only wish
my doom was merely to be a mud-lark. No,
no, I'm condemned to rush about from
one evening party and public house to
another. At the former I am bound for a
certain term on each night to dance all the
quadrilles, and a few of the polkas and
waltzes with clumsy partners; and then I
have to eat stale pastry and tough poultry