appointed, your humble servant, with some fourteen or fifteen other youthful aspirants, assembled on board the flag ship. Each was dressed out in our No. 1 suits, in most exact and unquizzable uniform, with a large bundle of log-books under our arms. We were all huddled together in a small screened canvas cabin, like so many sheep ready for slaughter.
About eleven o'clock, the captains who were to be our Minos and our Rhadamanthus, made their appearance, and we all agreed that we did not much like the "cut of their jibs." At twelve o'clock the first name was called. The "desperate youth" tried to pluck up a little courage—he cleared his throat, pulled up his shirt collar, touched his neck-handkerchief, and seizing his cocked hat and journals, boldly followed the messenger into the captain's cabin, where three grave-looking gentlemen, in undress uniform, awaited him. They were seated at a round table; a clerk was at the elbow of the president; Moore's navigation, that wise redoubtable, lay
