I can't do it. I nearly _did_ do it, though, for when I had my
sketching-book in my hand on board, the spanker-boom, or some such
thing, came over suddenly and hit me such a whack on the head, that
for two minutes I lay insensible, and thought I should never become
sensible again. Rightly is it called "spanker-boom,"--that is if it
_is_ called so, or some name very like it,--for I never got such a
whack on the head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in
my ears.

You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may _feel_
(and I _did_ feel uncommonly funny, you may take your oath!), under
such circumstances. However, as the song says, "Home once more,"
and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I gather myself round the
fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing you an old Norse song
with real humour in it--though I dare say _you'll_ say you don't see
it--and so no more _à présent_ from yours seasickly (I am quite well,
but I mean I'm sick of the sea),

FLOTSAM, Y.A.

* * * * *

JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.

FIFTH ENTRY.

Curious thing that to-day--after disappointment of failure for the
Bar--letter comes from President of my old College, asking me "if I
would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so, "I had better come
down and talk to him about it."