Volume 152 — THE POULTICE.

Call this cold? You orter been with me in '63, when I was whalin' in the North Atlantic. I was steward on the Ella Wheeler, 6,000 tons, out from New Caledonia. Our skipper was a reg'lar old bluenose, and some Tartar, I don't think! Why, 'e'd lay yer out sooner than look at yer; an' once 'e put the cook in irons for two days 'cos the poor devil 'ad tumbled up against the side of the galley an' burnt the 'air off the side of 'is 'ead, and the old man said it was untidy; and we all 'ad to 'ave cold grub for two days—and in them latitudes! Lord, 'ow we 'ated 'im!

But the worst of it was that we 'ad no doctor on board, and when anybody took sick the old man insisted on doctorin' 'im 'isself; and 'e 'ad only one way of treatin' every disease in the 'orspitals. "Put 'im into 'is bunk," he says, "and wait till I bring 'im a 'ot linseed poultice for's chest." Tooth-ache or chilblains, a pain in yer stummick or ring-worm—'e always says the same thing, "Put 'im in his bunk," he says, "and I'll bring 'im a 'ot linseed poultice for 's chest." And 'e brought it and put it on with 'is own 'ands too! There was no gettin' out of it if once 'e 'eard you were sick. Lord, 'ow we 'ated 'im!

There was Pete Malone—'ad a great mop of 'air like a lion or a musician—must needs go washing one day on deck, like a fool. It was all right as long as 'e 'ad the 'ot water and the soapsuds goin'; but 'e give 'is 'ead a rinse, an' stood up, and, swelpme, before 'e could get the towel to work every single 'air 'e 'd got 'ad its own private icicle, an' 'is silly 'ead looked like a silver-plated porkypine.

Well, as I was saying, we were about a 'undred-and-fifty mile from the nearest land, which 'ud be the West coast of Greenland, bearin' about E. by N., when we thought that at last we were going' to get one back on the old man. It was this way. One bitter cold night 'e was makin' 'is way aft to turn in, when 'e slips up where a wave 'ad froze on the deck, an' e' goes wallop down the 'ole length of the companion, from top to bottom, an' busts three of 'is ribs. Of course we all ran an' picked 'im up, an' said we 'oped 'e wasn't much 'urt. But 'e says, "None of yer jabber, ye swines; 'elp me inter my bunk, and two of yer bring me a 'ot linseed poultice for my chest."

Well, we puts 'im in 'is bunk, and I catches the eye of the first mate, and we goes out together. "Mick," says I, "'e's askin' for a 'ot poultice. Lord send there's a good fire in the galley!" "If there ain't," says Micky to me, "we'll damn'd soon make one." So we makes a fire such as none of the ship's company 'ad ever seen; and we gets two buckets of water, one very near full, and the other about a quarter full, and we soon 'as 'em both on the boil. Then we makes the poultice in the drop of water; and when 'e was ready, we gets the grid and puts it across the top of the other bucket, and lays the poultice on the grid, and me and the mate picks up the full bucket with two pair o' tongs, 'olding a torch under 'er to keep 'er at the boil.

When the old man saw us 'is face twisted a bit! But talk about cold! We slapped the poultice on to 'im, and, if you'll believe me, inside o' ninety seconds the thing 'ad froze 'ard on 'im, and formed a splint, and—saved 'is life, blarst 'im!

SOME CATCH: THE ANGLER'S DREAM.

SOME CATCH: THE ANGLER'S DREAM.

Lieutenant ——, R.N., to Lieutenant ——, R.N. (they are paying one of those periodical visits to a lonely island in the South Pacific). "THESE WRETCHED ISLANDERS, CUT OFF AS THEY ARE FROM ALL THE WORLD, ARE, I SUPPOSE, HARDLY CIVILISED."

First Wretched Islander to Second Wretched Islander. "DOES THIS VISIT INTRIGUE YOU?"

"AND THE LAST THING MY MISSUS SAID TO ME WAS, 'BRING US 'OME SOME SORT OF AN OLD CURIOSITY FROM FURREN PARTS.'"

Fond Teuton Parent (to super-tar home on leave). "AND YOU LIKE YOUR SHIP, FRITZ?"

Fritz. "I LOVE HER! SHE'S A WONDER! SUCH SPEED! WHENEVER WE RACE BACK TO PORT SHE'S BEEN FIRST EVERY TIME."

Karl. "WHAT WORRIES ME IS THE FACT THAT WE WANT MORE MEN FOR THE NAVY. WHAT I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW IS, WHERE ARE THEY TO COME FROM?"

Gretchen. "BE CALM, KARL. DOUBTLESS OUR GLORIOUS PROFESSORS OF CHEMISTRY WILL INVENT A SUBSTITUTE."

THE INFECTIOUS HORNPIPE.

THE BREATH OF LIBERTY.

THE GERMAN AUTOCRAT. "THEY MAY FIND THIS WIND VERY BRACING IN RUSSIA BUT IT MAKES ME FEEL EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE."