shores of the Mediterranean, for instance, where nature would seem to have exhausted herself in uniting the magnificent with the bewitching.  On this continent, or on our own portion of it at least, we must be content with the useful, and lay no great claims to the beautiful; the rivers and bays giving us some compensation in their admirable commercial facilities, for the sameness, not to say tameness, of the views.  We mention these things in passing, as a people that does not understand its relative position in the scale of nations, is a little apt to fall into errors that do not contribute to its character or respectability; more especially when they exhibit a self-love founded altogether on ignorance, and which has been liberally fed by flattery.

The first thing a seaman does on coming on deck, after a short absence, is to look to windward, in order to see how the wind stands, and what are the prospects of the weather.  Then he turns his eyes aloft to ascertain what canvass is spread, and how it draws.  Occasionally, the order of these observations is changed, the first look being sometimes bestowed on the sails, and the second on the clouds.  Roswell Gardiner, however, cast his first glance this morning towards the southward and westward, and perceived that the breeze promised to be steady.  On looking aloft, he was well satisfied with the manner in which everything drew; then he turned to the second mate, who had the watch, whom he addressed cheerfully, and with a courtesy that is not always observed among sailors.

“A fine morning, sir,” said Roswell Gardiner, “and a good-bye to America.  We’ve a long road to travel, Mr. Green, but we’ve a fast boat to do it in.  Here is an offing ready made to our hands.  Nothing in sight to the westward; not so much as a coaster, even!  It’s too early for the outward-bound craft of the last ebb, and too late for those that sailed the tide before.  I never saw this bight of the coast clearer of canvass.”

“Ay, ay, sir; it does seem empty, like.  Here’s a chap, however, to leeward, who appears inclined to try his rate of sailing with us.  Here he is, sir, a very little abaft the beam; and, as near as I can make him out, he’s a fore-tawsail schooner, of about our own dimensions; if you’ll just look at him through this glass, Captain Gardner, you’ll see he has not only our rig, but our canvass set.”

“You are right enough, Mr. Green,” returned Roswell, after getting, his look.  “He is a schooner of about our tonnage, and under precisely our canvass.  How long has the fellow bore as he does now?”

“He came out from under Blok Island a few hours since, and we made him by moonlight.  The question with me is, where did that chap come from?  A Stunnin’ton man would have naturally passed to windward of Blok Island; and a Newport or Providence fellow would not have fetched so far to windward without making a stretch or two on purpose.  That schooner has bothered me ever since it was daylight; for I can’t place him where he is by any traverse my poor Parnin’ can work!”