"'You took that piece of canvas, sir!'
"'Yes, captain,' I replied, 'I did. You yourself told me to ask, and if I was refused, to do the other thing. I was refused, and did do the 'other thing.'
"'Well,' rejoined the captain, 'I have no great objection to your having the canvas, but let me tell you that you will never make a sailor if you carry your flying-jib over the stern!'
"My 'chummy,' sewing from the inside, had 'seated' my trowsers with a piece of canvas marked 'F. Jib!"'
There used to be quite popular, many years ago, a species of letter-writing in poetry, in accomplishing which much ingenuity was tasked and much labor expended. The ensuing lines are a good example of this kind of composition by comic writers who have not sufficiently advanced in joking to get "out of their letters." The lines were addressed to Miss Emma Vee, who had a pet jay, of which she was very fond:
"Your jay is fond, which well I know,
He does S A to prove;
And he can talk, I grant, but O!
He can not talk of love.
"Believe me, M A, when I say,
I dote to that X S,
I N V even that pet J,
Which U sometimes caress.
"Though many other girls I know,
And they are fair, I C,
Yet U X L them all, and so
I love but M A V.
"M A, my love can ne'er D K,
Except when I shall die;
And if your heart must say me nay,
Just write and tell me Y!"