'Clarence is come--false, fleeting, perjured Clarence.'

King Richard III.

There was much stagnation in the Navy in those days in the reaction
after the great war; and though our family had fair interest at the
Admiralty, it was seven months before my brother went to sea again.
To me they were very happy months, with my helper of helpers,
companion of companions, who made possible to me many a little
enterprise that could not be attempted without him. My father made
him share my studies, and thus they became doubly pleasant. And oh,
ye boys! who murmur at the Waverley Novels as a dry holiday task, ye
may envy us the zest and enthusiasm with which we devoured them in
their freshness. Strangely enough, the last that we read together
was the Fair Maid of Perth.

Clarence and his friend Coles longed to sail together again, but
Coles was shelved; and when Clarence's appointment came at last, it
was to the brig Clotho, Commander Brydone, going out in the
Mediterranean Fleet, under Sir Edward Codrington. My mother did not
like brigs, and my father did not like what he heard of the captain;
but there had been jealous murmurs about appointments being absorbed
by sons of officials--he durst not pick and choose; and the Admiral
pronounced that if the lad had been spoilt on board the Calypso, it
was time for him to rough it--a dictum whence there was no appeal.

Half a year later the tidings of the victory of Navarino rang
through Europe, and were only half welcome to the conquerors; but in
our household it is connected with a terrible recollection. Though
more than half a century has rolled by, I shrink from dwelling on