voice into my larboard ear. "Jane tells me your mamma is in a sad taking,
Master Tom. You ben't going to leave us, all on a heap like, be you?
Surely your stay until your sister comes from your uncle Job's? You know
there are only two on ye--You won't leave the old lady all alone, Master
Thomas, win ye?' The worthy old fellow's voice quavered here, and the
tears hopped over his old cheeks through the flour and tallow like peas,
as he slowly drew a line down the forehead of his well--powdered pate,
with his fore--finger.

"No--no--why, yes," exclaimed I, fairly overcome; "that is--oh Nic, Nic
you old fool, I wish I could cry, man--I wish I could cry!" and
straightway I hied me to my chamber, and wept until I thought my very
heart would have burst.

In my innocence and ignorance, child as I was, I had looked forward to
several months preparation; to buying and fitting of uniforms, and dirks,
and cocked hat, and swaggering therein, to my own great glory, and the
envy of all my young relations; and especially I desired to parade my
fire--new honours before the large dark eyes of my darling little creole
cousin, Mary Palma; whereas I was now to be bundled on board, at a few
days warning, out of a ready--made furnishing shop, with lots of illmade,
glossy, hard mangled duck trowsers, the creases as sharp as the backs of
knives, and--"oh, it never rains, but it pours," exclaimed I; "surely all
this promptitude is a little de plus in Sir Barnaby."

However, away I was trundled at the time appointed, with an aching heart,
to Portsmouth, after having endured the misery of a first parting from a
fond mother, and a host of kind friends; but, miserable as I was,
according to my preconceived determination, I began my journal the very
day I arrived, that nothing connected with so great a man should be lost,