'severity,' said dr. johnson, 'may be the way to govern men, but it is not the way to mend them,'—a sentiment which the wife of stauncy mentally endorsed, as she listened to her husband's hectoring; and when he had closed the door on the 'prentice, she said, 'that was not like you, james. i never saw you act so unkindly before, nor so unwisely; for people are very much as they are treated. to disregard the finer feelings is to weaken them, and to be unjustly severe is to create an itching for that course which deserves it. you have smitten on the head some feeling that might have contributed to right character, and helped to make the boy reckless as well as hostile. did you really promise him a guinea, james? why, think, then, how he has been nursing the idea; what a hold it must have got on him; how he has been revelling in the prospect; and, all at once, you not only extinguish hope, and injure his feelings deeply, but you falsify your word, and make yourself unworthy of his confidence.'

'i would i were as wise as you, mary,' replied stauncy who had acted unnaturally, and whose conscience upbraided him; 'i should keep free from trouble; but i thought it best to act as i did.'

'unkindness can never be best, james; wrong can never be right. you must think better of it and do the boy justice.' but the captain was unwilling to retrace his steps, for reasons of which his sensible and prudent wife knew nothing. so he left the matter where it was, saying to himself, 'what must be, must.'

the darkening shadows had fallen for hours that night, when a party more numerous than usual took possession of the taproom of the jolly tar, in one of the narrow streets of appledore. the ruddy glow of the log fire on the hearth was warmly reflected on the faces of the motley group as they sat around the settle, and gave to their features a bloated appearance, which too well read out the sottish habits of most of them. night after night they congregated in that beery repository of gossip and scandal, of drunkenness and brawling; and many were the hapless wives and children who paid in hunger, nakedness, tears, and crime, for their bacchanalian selfishness and revelry. the company was varied occasionally by casual visitors, who were constrained to 'stand a treat,' and tempted to aspire after that maudlin condition denominated 'three sheets in the wind.' such a visitor on the evening in question was sam pickard, who became the hero of the night, and escaped the ordinary requirement of 'glasses round,' from the sympathy awakened by his escape from a watery grave. jim ortop's father a wild, cadaverous-looking shoemaker, and a noted tippler, appeared to be the leading spirit; and from the twinkling of his eyes, and the rapidity with which he swallowed his potations, it was evident that he was unusually excited.

by general request, sam pickard proceeded to give them the history of the loss of the sarah ann, which he did with much feeling, and amidst a silence which was only broken occasionally by unsympathetic grumblings from the restless, angry-looking shoemaker.

'what's become of the six poor fellows who drifted away in the jolly-boat?' asked a grim-looking blacksmith.

'who knows?' said pickard; 'i heard this afternoon that part of a boat had been picked up over to braunton, and that'—

'just before i came here,' broke in one of the party, 'bill berry told me that four of the bodies had been found at the back of the burrows.'

'they've been murdered, then,' said ortop fiercely. 'i tell you they never came to their end by fair means. their blood lies at the door of cap'n stauncy, who scuttled the brig, as sure as i'm a living man; and if there's any justice in england, it ought to follow him like a bloodhound.'

'it's false!' said pickard, rising, with a flow of blood in his face which threatened mischief. 'what should the cap'n want to scuttle the vessel for? he did his best to keep her up during the gale, and i'll sew your mouth up for you if you spread such a lying report any further.'

'i say,' vociferated the shoemaker, smashing his pipe on the table, 'that they're murdered men; and before you try to sew my mouth up, you'd better slacken the noose that's tightening round your own neck!'

the ex-cook rushed forward to take summary vengeance on the representative of the gentle craft, who rose to defend himself, and a fearful fight would have ensued had the evening been farther advanced. as it was, they were most of them tolerably sober, and managed to separate the combatants.

they managed to separate the combatants.

'i say again what i have said,' exclaimed ortop, as he was pushed to his seat. 'my boy told me all about it; and i'll have a reckoning with you another day, mr. pickard.'

it was some time before they were quieted; but a forecastle man, with a powerful voice, contrived to bring things round by singing a song in heave anchor fashion, the chorus of which was taken up noisily by most present. he was followed by an old salt, who had swallowed the handspike, as the sailors say when any one has retired from the service, and who perpetrated with a nasal twang a doggerel ballad, immensely popular amongst his class, which was followed by a furious rattling of tankards and glasses, in token of approbation; and, having 'filled again,' they opened a running fire of convivial talk, which gradually brought round the engrossing topic of the evening.

'i should think,' said a little man in the company, 'that the gale was heavy enough to send any vessel down, without laying violent hands on her.'

'so it was,' replied pickard, 'and scuttling would have been like cutting the throat of a dead man.'

'suppose he did scuttle her,' exclaims a wiry-haired mason, 'that's old phillipson's look-out. the vessel belonged to him, and if stauncy satisfies the merchant that's enough.'

'and who's to satisfy the widows and orphans, or who's to satisfy the insurance office?' said ortop, in a sarcastic, bitter tone. 'i'll get that question answered before long. i owe stauncy a grudge, and i'll not forget it.'

'if there's sin anywhere in this matter,' the blacksmith remarked, 'it lies with the old scoundrel on the quay, who'd sell the life of any one for a groat. he's made a market out of many a vessel and many a man before now, and little cares who suffers as long as he fingers the gold.'

'what's the use of talking in this way?' rejoined pickard. 'the brig went down natural enough, and no blame to nobody.' and so the house became divided in opinion, and the division occasioned fierce words and much quarrelling, until towards midnight inebriate voices, loud and wrangling, broke incessantly on the stillness reigning without.