And his voice is heard through each leaf-clad tree,
In the plaint of the dove and the hum of the bee.
THE REEFER OF ’76.
———
BY THE AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR.”
———
THE SEA-FIGHT.
“Sail ho!” sung out the look-out, one sunny afternoon, as we bowled along before a pleasant gale. In an instant the drowsiest amongst us was fully awake. The officers thronged the quarter-decks; the foretop-men eagerly scanned the horizon; the skulkers stole out from beneath the bulwarks where they had been dozing, and the late quiet decks of the schooner, which but a moment since lay hushed in the drowsy silence of a sultry afternoon, now swarmed with noisy and curious gazers.
“Whereaway?” asked the officer of the deck.