Tracks of a Rolling Stone

ctual, from the child's poeticinterpretation of life to life's practical ve

ment, in the exercise of growingfaculties. But the belief in the impossible and the bliss ofignorance are seen, when looking back, to have assumed almostabruptly a cruder state of maturer dulness.

k me (as he mentions in his Autobiography) tothe Naval Academy at Gosport. The very afternoon of myadmittance - as an illustration of the above remarks - I hadthree fights with three different boys. After that the 'newboy' was left to his own d

andscauses the button to revolve. Upon this design, and bysubstituting a jagged disk of slate for the button, thesenior 'Bull-dogs' (we were all called 'Burney's bull-dogs')co

torture was, in thosedays, not unknown to public schools. It was to hold a boy'sback and breech as near to a hot fire as his clothes wouldbear without burning

over the boy was

est, in all matters of this kind, was that as soon as I wastwelve years old my name was entered on the books of the'Britannia,' then flag-ship in Portsmouth Harbour, and thou

SirThomas, whose portrait is now in the National PortraitGallery. He had seen much service, and had been flag-captai

atment we small boys had to put up with sixty or seventyy

a double examination, - one forseamanship before a board of captains, and another fornavigation at the Naval College. He then became a master'smate, and had to serve for three years as such before he w

s of thefortunate youngsters, and, unless exce

in December 1839. I

d anchor at St. Helensin the Isle of Wight. The next night we were at sea. Ithappened to be my

cold, home sick and sea sick beyonddescription, my opinion of the Royal Navy

ul whack with arope's end from one of the crusty old mates aforesaid, whoperhaps anticipated in my poor little personality thearrogance of a possible commanding officer. Oh! those cruelnight watches! But the hard trai

art, made excuses forme to the officer of our watch if I were caught napping underthe half-deck, or otherwise neglecting my duty. Sometimes hewould even take the blame for this upon himself, and give mea 'wigging' in private, which was my severest punishment. Hetaught me the ropes, and explained the elements ofseamanship. If it was very

re taught not only toknot and splice, b

re practised aloft until we were as active and as smart asany

s in navigation,and the quartermaster of the w

nch and Spanish wars. One, a tall, handsome old fellow,had been a smuggler; and many a fight with, or narrow escapefrom, the coast-guard he had to tell of. The other two hadbeen badly wounded. Old Jimmy Bartlett of my watch had ahole

most, he would spin me a yarn about hotactions, cutting-outs, press-gangings,

water's edge. The strange birds in the daytime, theflocks of parrots, the din of every kind of life, the flyingfoxes at night, the fragrant and spicy odours, captivate thesenses. How delicious, too, the fresh fruits brought off bythe Malays in their scooped-out logs, one's first taste ofbananas, juicy shaddocks, mangoes, and custard apples - aftermonths of s