against the contingency of their stepping on the toads, which disport
themselves in all the lanes at night, and are of the size of
respectable tortoises.

Then gradually the lights in every window disappear, fewer and fewer
voices are borne upon the breeze, and ere the midnight bell has
tolled, all is darkness and repose.




TWENTY-FOUR HOURS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE AT SEA.


One of the visions of youth is, that the life of a sailor is all fun,
frolic, and happiness. Can there be anything more delightful, they
think, than sailing about on the wide ocean, visiting far-distant
regions of the earth, and seeing the strange manners of different
countries? Little are they aware of the constant toil to which the
poor mariner is exposed--the perils he encounters, the thankless life
he is generally doomed to lead. He is, in fact, compelled to endure
pretty much the lot of a slave; for, as is well known, government on
shipboard is a species of despotism, often a cruel tyranny.
Remonstrance in nearly every circumstance is in vain--it is mutiny. No
matter how roughly orders are issued; they must be implicitly obeyed.
'D'ye murmur? Hold your tongue, you rascal, or I'll put you in irons!'
Such is not a particularly uncommon form of address to the sailor, who
so far forgets his position as to even hint a difference of opinion.
Possibly, it is quite right, for the sake of discipline, and the
safety of all concerned, that severity should be employed. We merely