THIRSTY JACK.

This little story I am going to tell you is a very small chip, so small, indeed, that it might be almost called a shaving, but it comes into my mind just now, and is such a trifling occurrence, that unless I tell you now I may forget it at another time. It will just do to fill up a spare moment or two while your candle is being got ready for bed, or after you have finished your dinner, and have a minute to spare, or while you are waiting to be attended to in a shop.

It is about Jack Fraser, one of our lieutenants in the ——. Well, on second thoughts, I won’t tell you the name of the ship, or some of my fair young friends may be ingenious enough to look through old Navy Lists, and by seeing when my ship was at the station I am going to mention, may discover that I must be getting very old, whereas I want you all to fancy I’m very young. At all events, though my timbers are creaking, and my skylights getting dim, and my figure-head rather grey, I am still fond of boys and girls, and like to have them about me.

Well, about Jack Fraser. We were at Jamaica, which is, as you know, rather a warm climate. Fraser was what they call “a thirsty soul,” that is, one very fond of his glass; not his spyglass for looking abroad, or his looking-glass for looking at home, but his wine glass and grog-tumbler. He had always some excuse, though I can’t call it a reason. When here, he used to say it was so hot we could only keep cool by drinking; when farther north in colder climates, he declared the only way to keep warm was by drinking; and when on any home station on half-pay, he used to say that this was such a wretched climate that he could only keep off “the blues” by his glass regular. I always think when I hear any one finding excuses like this for drinking, that he is rather ashamed of it himself, and that he indulges far more than is generally supposed.

Well, one afternoon he went ashore at Port Royal, and had not returned when we all turned in, and when all lights were turned out. By and by Jack came on board and began fumbling about for something to drink. The steward had retired, so he knew he could not get supplied. My cabin opened in the mess-room, so I heard him talking to himself about his misfortune in being so thirsty and in not getting anything to drink. Presently I found out he had discovered some, which he soon drank off, for in a few seconds I heard such a spitting and spluttering that I laughed right out, for I at once guessed what had happened. He had got hold of the jug which contained a decoction for enticing mosquitoes and other insects to it, and which had done its work pretty well that day. It was this liquid Fraser had drunk, and it was these mosquitoes that he had spit out, except such as had been swallowed past recovery.

I wish this had taught him a lesson; but this bad habit, even more than others, though it may receive many checks, is with the greatest difficulty given up.

Take care, young friends, that you do not form them.