the walls: he felt that he was wrong; his conscience smote him for the pain he was inflicting on his excellent mother. It was long before he dropped asleep; and when he did so, he had dreams which terrified him. He thought he stood again by the death-bed of his father, and felt the cold clammy grasp of his dying hand. He spoke to him; but when Frank raised his eyes, he encountered, not the mild placid air which his countenance always wore, but a stern expression of resentment, which sat upon his features. He started, and awoke,

whilst the last words he had ever heard him utter were still ringing in his ears,-" Remember, Frank, that disobedience to your mother will prove your curse here, and ruin eteryour nally!" The following morning he rose early and unrefreshed; and before breakfast he walked round the shrubbery and garden, to bid farewell to every well-known spot. He returned, and after swallowing a few mouthfuls

at the table, William drove the chaise to the door; but it is impossible to describe the agony of his parting with his mother and his sister; they hung about his neck, and again and again they kissed him, and wept over him, and bade him adieu. He was scarcely able to stand or to walk, when William lifted him. into the chaise. He looked once from the window, and saw poor Emily leaning against the door convulsed with grief. She raised her eyes, and moved her hand towards him, when the turning of the avenue hid her from his sight, and he saw her no more.

About noon he reached Southampton, and his uncle met him at the hotel where he stopped. Here another scene of grief ensued, when he bade farewell to William and the ponies, and his dog Carlo, which had followed the chaise all the way from the rectory. He patted the ponies, hugged Carlo to his heart, shook hands with William, and having sent a thou

sand messages to the family and the old housekeeper, he walked with Captain Hartwell to the steam-boat, and started for the Isle of Wight. That night he spent with his grandmamma, and the following day sailed in the Ariel for Portsmouth, where his uncle conveyed him.

CHAPTER VIII.

FIRST DAY OF A MIDSHIPMAN ON BOARD A MAN OF WAR.

Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry,
While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides;
Or schoolboy-midshipman, that standing by,
Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,

. And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides. BYRON.

THE commander of the Syren, Captain Medwin, was a gentleman who had not long been employed in the service of his country; he was the younger son of a noble family, whose interest had got him his appointment, and to whose influence he was more indebted for his naval rank, than to any merits or acquirements

of his own; the officers of the ship in which he had last served had never considered him as a favourite; and, in fact, his carriage was too haughty, and his manner too imperious, to permit him to appear amiable in the eyes of any one.

Unfortunately for Frank, his appointment as a midshipman on board the Syren had not met with the full approbation of his aristocratic commander, who had wished the situation for another; and when, therefore, Captain Hartwell and he waited on him at his lodgings on shore, their reception was rather cold than cordial, and he briefly gave Frank his directions to go on board, and mention his name to the first-lieutenant, who would take care of him; he should be off, he said, in the course of the day, and he hoped to be able to get under way for the Mediterranean the following morning, or, perhaps, during the night.

Mr. Markham, the lieutenant, received