face betrayed his identity.  “Sergeant,” said he, going up to him, “I’m werry ’appy to see ye—­may be in the course of your practice at Croydon you’ve heard that there are more times than one to catch a thief.”  “Who are you?” inquired the sergeant with a growl, just at which moment the boat gave a roll, and he wound up the inquiry by a donation to the fishes.  “Who am I?” replied Mr. Jorrocks, as soon as he was done, “I’ll soon tell ye that—­I’m Mr. JORROCKS!  Jorrocks wersus Cheatum, in fact—­now that you have got your bullying toggery off, I’ll be ’appy to fight ye either by land or sea.”  “Oh-h-h-h!” groaned the sergeant at the mention of the latter word, and thereupon he put his head over the boat and paid his second subscription.  Mr. Jorrocks stood eyeing him, and when the sergeant recovered, he observed with apparent mildness and compassion, “Now, my dear sergeant, to show ye that I can return good for evil, allow me to fatch you a nice ’ot mutton chop!” “Oh-h-h-h-h!” groaned the sergeant, as though he would die.  “Or perhaps you’d prefer a cut of boiled beef with yellow fat, and a dab of cabbage?” an alternative which was too powerful for the worthy citizen himself—­for, like Sterne with his captive, he had drawn a picture that his own imagination could not sustain—­and, in attempting to reach the side of the boat, he cascaded over the sergeant, and they rolled over each other, senseless and helpless upon deck.

“Mew, mew,” screamed the seagulls;—­“creak, creak,” went the cordage;—­“flop, flop,” went the sails; round went the white basins, and the steward with the mop; and few passengers would have cared to have gone overboard, when, at the end of three hours’ misery, the captain proclaimed that they were running into still water off Boulogne.  This intimation was followed by the collection of the passage money by the mate, and the jingling of a tin box by the steward, under the noses of the party, for perquisites for the crew.  Jorrocks and the sergeant lay together like babes in the wood until they were roused by this operation, when, with a parting growl at his companion, Mr. Jorrocks got up; and though he had an idea in his own mind that a man had better live abroad all his life than encounter such misery as he had undergone, for the purpose of returning to England, he recollected his intended work upon France, and began to make his observations upon the town of Boulogne, towards which the vessel was rapidly steaming.  “Not half so fine as Margate,” said he; “the houses seem all afraid of the sea, and turn their ends to it instead of fronting it, except yon great white place, which I suppose is the baths”; and, taking his hunting telescope out of his pocket, he stuck out his legs and prepared to make an observation.  “How the people are swarming down to see us!” he exclaimed.  “I see such a load of petticoats—­glad Mrs. J——­ ain’t with us; may have some fun here, I guess.  Dear me, wot lovely women! wot ankles! beat the English, hollow—­would