do not differ much, as far as the plumage goes, from the wild ones. Everyone knows that the head of the female is gray, while that of the male is adorned with an emerald green. The wild duck has a more slender neck, and the membrane which unites the toes is finer and more delicate; the feet are of a polished black, and it is this above all which distinguishes it from the tame duck. It is excessively wild, and will never permit the approach of man; it is only by the force of stratagem that we can manage to reach it, and this is the reason why it is so necessary to study its habits. We are then obliged to employ a number of different means, according as this bird frequents the standing or the running waters. The young wild ducks, when we look for them in the months of August or September, are never far removed from the spot where they were hatched; it is therefore easy to come upon them by making the circuit of the pond. If the sportsman is so fortunate as to shoot the mother, a little artifice will make him master of the halbrans. He has only to let loose on the pond a tame duck, retained by the foot with a bit of pack-thread fastened to a stake. As soon as they hear it quack, the young wild ducks swim towards it, and the sportsman, concealed behind some tree, may shoot them at his leisure. It is only towards the end of October or the beginning of November that the flocks of wild duck arrive among us from the northern regions or the sea shores, to alight on our lakes and ponds. They make their appearance in small bands first, which in a little time become more numerous, and are recognised by their elevated flight in inclined planes or regular triangles. Their movements are made more by night than by day, and the whizzing of their flight discovers their passage. Their chief aim is to choose some lake in the neighbourhood of a marsh, where there is at the same time a cover of woods; in such a spot they will have a vast supply of insects; a wooded lake, therefore, in the neighbourhood of marshy ground, will be generally one of their favourite resorts. If in their flight, high above in the air, the voice of the mallard-whose cry is most peculiar-is heard from the surface of some lake or pond, the band, who have left their northern retreats, will immediately descend; and where perhaps one solitary couple of wild ducks swam over its naked surface in the evening, hundreds of wild ducks will revel in it on the morrow. There is a great variety of these birds, all agreeing in the same general figure, habits, and mode of living, and only differing a little in their size and the colour of their plumage."

CHARLEY SCUPPER'S RACING YACHT.

CHAPTER VI.

It was a delightful evening in the month of July when the Tippoo lay at anchor in one of the finest harbours on the eastern coast of England the sun had gone down at exactly two minutes past eight, when, with the punctuality of naval discipline, the commodore of the yacht club had fired a gun from his schooner, denoting the time for

striking colours. The crew of the Tippoo were on the qui vive, and her ensign and burgee "fell as the leaves fall," with the dying echo of the cannon. Luminous traces of ruby-red hung in the horizon in all the glory of transcendent lustre ; not a ripple was seen upon the water, nor an air of wind to fan the glassy surface of the harbour, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the scene save the soft and gentle strains of music which were awakened by some youthful member of Terpsichore aboard a German vessel which lay at anchor about a cable's length from the yacht. This was the harbour in the neighbourhood of Littleborough, which we have had occasion before to allude to. Sir Reginald had been cruising all day, had dined aboard his yacht, and was smoking a cigar on deck; but ever and anon turning his eyes in the direction of the glorious picture in the western sky. Sir Reginald had never been in the tropics, therefore he knew nothing of the grandeur of a summer sunset in those regions; but nevertheless he was fully sensitive to the beauties of Nature, and thought to himself how cold indeed must the heart be, that could gaze on such a picture of the works of God, as that unfolded to his view, without some feeling of emotion.

All the crew except Joe Strand had gone below after striking colours, when Sir Reginald directed Joe's attention to the west, and spoke of the contrast between the works of man and the works of God; which Joc immediately understood as a signal or challenge for him to enter upon a philosophical discourse. Notwithstanding the ominous character of Joe Strand, Sir Reginald Runwall thought highly of him, both as a sailor and prognosticator, and used frequently to converse with him, and listen, for the half-hour together, to the peculiar dicta of that individual. But it is more than probable that Sir Reginald had sometimes a secret motive in conversing freely with Joe Strand-a motive which it would have been difficult for him to conceal, even from the unsuspecting scrutiny of the sailor. After enlarging upon the wonders of the sun, moon, and stars, the planets, their orbits, and such-like astrological discourse, Sir Reginald turned the tide of the conversation upon the yacht Sooloo, Charley Scupper, and, finally, Clara Littleborough.

"So the young lady was more ill than her brother, was she, Joe?" inquired Sir Reginald.

"I can't say that, sir," replied the man; "but she never came on deck once during the passage home, and I heard Mr. Scupper say several times that she was very poorly."

"And her brother had not the courage to go and administer to her wants once during the whole time?" said Sir Reginald.

"No, your honour; but I expect Mr. Scupper 'ministered everything she wanted."

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Very probably, Joe; but you did not assist at all, I suppose; nor see any of the 'ministering, did you?"

"Well sir," said the man, smiling, "I did see a something; but I never spoke of it to no soul living; because what I say is this-this is what I say if a gentleman like Mr. Scupper, or anybody else, choose to do a little courting aboard-ship, why, good luck to it, that's all I say; and it's no business of mine. But for all that, I should not have liked to have done anything in that line myself aboard the Sooloo, for she's the unluckiest craft I ever sailed in: I believe every plank and spar about her are unlucky. The trees she's built with have all of 'em been

F F

struck by lightning, or something of that; for 'tis nothing but bad luck that goes and comes with her, and I'm devilish glad to give her a wide berth."

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Well, Joe, but what was it you actually saw in the courting line,' as you call it, aboard the Sooloo?" inquired Sir Reginald.

"Oh, nothing of any harm whatever, sir. Mr. Scupper was a good deal down below, and I happened to just cast my eyes down by the halfopened skylight, when I saw him stoop and give the lady a buss as she reclined on the cabin couch: that's all! And I don't blame him; for she's one of the nicest young ladies I ever saw, and very pretty too, I reckon; don't you, your honour?" said the man, as if quite unconscious of the tender place he touched in the yachtsman's feelings. But it was indeed a home question; and though spoken with apparent simplicity, the love-sick knight could scarcely conceal his annoyance at the seaman's unintentional rudeness. He therefore made no reply, but added

"Did the young lady often accompany Mr. Scupper to sea?"

"Never after that day, your honour, whilst I was in Mr. Scupper's service, for the yacht was run down and disabled; but still she may have been many times since I left, and for aught I know to the contrary she was aboard this afternoon when the Sooloo went out of the harbour." "This afternoon?" inquired the yachtsman, anxiously. “Did the Sooloo leave the harbour this afternoon ?"

"Yes, sir; we passed her, steering southward, just before we came into the harbour, about six o'clock this evening, whilst you were at dinner, sir."

"And why did you not tell me you had passed her?" inquired the yachtsman somewhat angrily.

"I am very sorry, sir; but I did not think it necessary to disturb you."

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Disturb me, indeed; it would not have disturbed me much just to have opened the cabin-door and informed me of the circumstance. You will bear in mind for the future, that I wish you to report to me when I am below, any yachts we may pass; and you will make known my request to all the crew."

"Certainly, your honour, your order shall be obeyed," said the man, humbly.

"Was Mr. Scupper aboard?"

"Yes, sir, he was at the helm."

"At the helm, was he then I should think the young lady was not aboard. Was any other gentleman on deck?”

"No, sir; we saw no one on deck but Mr. Scupper and part of his crew."

"Sir Reginald now felt fully convinced that his rival had gone on a distant voyage, by his leaving the harbour at night; and it being very evident that Clara was not with him, he thought it an excellent oppor tunity to take advantage of Scupper's absence and endeavour to see her.

"You know the way to Littleborough from the beach, of course, Joe?" inquired Sir Reginald.

"Aye, aye, sir; the darkest night that ever was I'd find my way there," replied the man.

"Then get the boat ready whilst I write a note; and two of the crew shall row you ashore, and wait your return."

Sir Reginald immediately went into his cabin, and wrote a note to Clara Littleborough, informing her of his arrival in the harbour, and inviting her and her brother Tom to accompany him on a cruise on the

morrow.

On going on deck with the note, he was not a little surprised to find Joe had made quite a change in his attire, and was dressed in his secondbest; but presuming it to be nothing more than a sailor's vanity on going to a large house ashore, Sir Reginald made no remark.

On receiving the note from Sir Reginald's hands, Joe raised his finger to his broad brimmer, and carefully wrapped the note in a piece of clean paper purposely provided, and placed it in his breeches pocket, which he then buttoned up with a resolute sort of air, as if it contained a treasure of great value; and which, if any one attempted to rob him of, they would stand a chance of feeling the weight of his brawny fist on their figure-head.

"Suppose and the lady is not at home, your honour? Am I to leave the note ?"

"Oh, yes; but she is sure to be at home, Joe."

A few strokes of the oars carried the boat beneath the shade of the land, and she was lost from the gaze of the remaining part of the yacht's crew. The reader must therefore follow Joe Strand and the contents of his pocket through the park and grounds of Littleborough,

As soon as Joe stepped out of the boat, his mates inquired how long he should be gone; to which Joe replied that he could not tell exactly, it was a good step to the Hall; and when arrived there, he expected to see an old sweetheart of his; so that they must give him time to 'bout ship and see all things comfortable.

"Oh, if that's the case, Joe, we shall give you an hour at least," said one of the men.

"Make my respects to her if she's a tidy craft," said the other.

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Aye, aye, said Joe, smiling to himself.

"I'm blessed if I didn't think that 'lossifer had a girl ashore here, by his rigging himself out in his shore-going cloth. Well, Bill, we have got plenty of time now to go and see what yacht that is riding abreast of the German vessel; so let's pull away for her."

No sooner said than done; for a few minutes laid the Tippoo's boat alongside the Diamond yacht.

"Diamond ahoy!" shouted Bill.

"Holloa there!" replied the others.

From the conversation which then passed, it was found that Harry Vare had only arrived in the harbour a short time before Sir Reginald Runwall; and it would appear that both were bound on the same errand. Harry Vare had gone to spend the evening at Littleborough, and taken one of his crew with him to carry some fish they had caught in the trawl.

Meanwhile Joe was wending his way through the shaded roadway leading to the Hall, and bad arrived within a few yards of the gate at the back entrance, when his ear was arrested by the voices of some persons near by. Joe immediately stopped to listen; for he thought he could hear a female voice familiar to his ear. On cautiously proceeding

a few steps nearer, his suspicions were fully confirmed, and he distinctly heard the voice of his old sweetheart the scullery-maid, laughing and joking very familiarly with a gruff, but unknown male voice.

""Tis Madge, by heaven!" said Joe to himself. "And who the devil can that land-lubber be, that's making love to her there as fast as any log-line ever spun off a reel ?"

Nearer and nearer did the highly-exasperated Joe stealthily advance upon the unsuspecting lovers, until he gained a place of concealment behind a tree which stood within three or four yards of the gate at which the two were ringing the changes and breathing their vows of love more freely than Joe had ever himself presumed, on any of his meetings with the interesting scullery-maid.

"I'm bamboozled; I'm flabbergasted; I'm 'lossiphized; I'm whipped at both ends, if ever I see such out-and-out love-making as that," thought Joe to himself. But the jealous spirit of poor Joe could endure it no longer when he saw a pair of huge arms clasp her round the waist with rather rougher usage than he himself had been in the habit of making towards his fair one; for the stranger grasped her so tightly, and was in the act of implanting a real forecastle kiss upon her lips, when Madge calling out, "Oh dear! don't!" Joe sprang from his place of concealment like a beast of prey from its lair, and, pouncing upon his rival, demanded what he meant by using a young woman so roughly.

"I'm d――d if I don't tell ye," said the other, seizing Joe by the neckcloth with irony grasp, and attempting to hurl him to the ground. "Hold hard there!" said Joe; "it's Ben Clarty I see."

"I don't care who ye are, nor who I am myself, you sneaking cur!" And so saying Ben Clarty dealt his opponent a heavy blow on the face, knocking out one of his front teeth, and laying him at full length on the ground. In an instant the enraged Joe sprang to his feet, and darting at his foe, struck a return blow over his right eye, opening a stream of claret, which spirted profusely over the features of his rival. Like tigers the two were now bent on a desperate battle; but Madge, who had run away in great fright at first, on hearing the scuffle came screaming to the scene, and, rushing between her lovers, implored them with tearful earnestness to desist. The noise soon attracted the coachman and some of the men-servants from the Hall, who came to the rescue; and after some little trouble succeeded in getting the sailors into the house to have their wounds dressed. Soon the report spread through the servants' hall that two sailors had been fighting for the scullery-maid: a general titter then passed amongst them, and all were anxious to obtain a glimpse of Madge's two lovers.

"She's a fine thing to fight for," said oue of the superior female domestics, tossing her head with an air of much self-conceit, she being the chosen favourite of the footman's.

Some of the others remarked amongst themselves that it was a pity the sailors should fight about one servant, when there were several others superior to her at the Hall, who "were very much partial to sailors, and would put up with their rough habits if they really wanted wives."

Almost every domestic in the Hall made an excuse to go into the back room where Madge and the coachman were bandaging the wounds of the sailors; and those who went once were the more anxious to go