pittance with a messmate in distress.  A few scattered grey locks peeped from beneath an old straw hat; and one sleeve of his jacket hung unoccupied by his side—­the arm was gone.  “I should like to know his history,” said the amiable lady; “let us send for him in.”  To express a wish, and have it gratified, were the same thing to Mrs. D——­, and in a few minutes the veteran tar stood before them.  “Would you wish to hear a tale of woe?” cried the old man, in answer to her request.  “Ah, no! why should your tender heart be wounded by another’s griefs?  I have been buffeted by the storms of affliction—­I have struggled against the billows of adversity—­every wave of sorrow has rolled over me; but,” added he, while a glow of conscious integrity suffused his furrowed cheek, “I have always done my duty; and that conviction has buoyed me up when nearly overwhelmed in the ocean of distress.  Yet, lady, it was not always thus:  I have been happy—­was esteemed, and, as I thought, beloved.  I had a friend, in whom I reposed the highest confidence, and my affections were devoted to one;—­but, she is gone—­she is gone! and I—­Yes! we shall meet again:”—­here he paused, dashed a tear from his eye, and then proceeded:—­“My friend was faithless; he robbed me of the dearest treasure of my heart, and blasted every hope of future happiness.  I left my native land to serve my country; have fought her battles, and bled in her defence.  On the 29th of May, and glorious 1st of June, 1794, I served on board the Queen Charlotte, under gallant Howe, and was severely wounded in the breast—­but I did my duty.  On that memorable occasion, a circumstance occured which added to my bitterness and melancholy.  The decks were cleared—­the guns cast loose, and every man stood in eager expectation at his quarters.  It is an awful moment, lady, and various conflicting emotions agitate the breast when, in the calm stillness that reigns fore and aft, the mind looks back upon the past, and contemplates the future.  Home, wife, children, and every tender remembrance rush upon the soul.  It is different in the heat of action:  then every faculty is employed for conquest, that each man may have to say, ‘I have done my duty.’  But when bearing down to engage, and silence is so profound that every whisper may be heard, then their state of mind—­it cannot be described.  Sailors know what it is, and conquering it by cool determination and undaunted bravery, nobly do their duty.  I was stationed at the starboard side of the quarter deck, and looked around me with feelings incident to human nature, yet wishing for and courting death.  The admiral, with calm composure, surrounded by his captains and signal officers, stood upon the beak of the poop, while brave Bowen, the master, occupied the ladder, and gave directions to the quarter-master at the helm.  They opened their fire, and the captains of the guns stood ready with their matches in their hand, waiting for the word.  The work of destruction commenced,