"You wrote the book, sir," replied he, sharply; "I can assure you that I
should not be surprised if the Admiralty took notice of it."

"Indeed, sir!" replied I, with assumed alarm.

I received no answer, except a most significant nod of the head, as he
walked away.

But I have not yet arrived at the climax, which made me inclined to
exclaim, with the expiring Lion in the fable----

A midshipman--yes, reader, a midshipman--who had formerly belonged to my
ship and had trembled at my frown, ranged up alongside of me, and, with
a supercilious air, observed--

"I have read your book, and--there are _one_ or _two_ good things in
it."

Hear this, admirals and captains on half-pay! hear this, port-admirals
and captains afloat! I have often heard that the service was
deteriorating, going to the devil, but I never became a convert to the
opinion before.

Gracious Heaven! what a revengeful feeling is there in the exclamation
"O that mine adversary had _written a book_!" To be snarled at, and
bow-wowed at, in this manner, by those who find fault because their
intellect is not sufficient to enable them to appreciate! Authors, take
my resolution; which is, never to show your face until your work has
passed through the ordeal of the Reviews--keep your room for the month
after your literary labour. Reviews are like Jesuit father