observed that he never saw the use of putting a naval gentleman on the top of a horse, he never offered to go and navigate their ships, so why could not they let his horses alone. Finally, the gentlemen lit their cigars, and sauntered along the bank, where the sight of Mr. Harcourt in an outrigger roused the Captain to give some strong opinions on the dangers of the river, and the foolhardiness of young men. To those who are not like Wordsworth's primrose, "dwellers on the river's brim," it may be necessary to explain that an outrigger is an apology for a boat, and, apparently, a feeble imitation of a plank—that the individual who hazards his own life in it, is happily prevented, by its absurd form, from making any other person a sharer in his danger—that he is liable to be overset by any passing steamer, or by the slightest change of his own posture—that it is difficult to conceive how he ever got into such a thing, or how he is ever to get out of it again, and that the effect he produces on an unprejudiced spectator, is that of an aquatic
