I could not speak--I felt so very miserable.

I thought of my father and mother in England, of my captain and my messmates, who were sailing about so happily in the frigate, of the kind Colonel O'Brien, and dear little Celeste, and the tears trickled down my cheeks as these scenes of former happiness passed through my mind in quick succession.

O'Brien did not speak but once, and then he only said, "This is dull work, Peter." We had been in the prison about two hours, when a lad in a very greasy, ragged jacket, with a pale emaciated face, came up to us, and said, "I perceive by your uniforms that you are both officers, as well as myself." O'Brien stared at him for a little while, and then answered, "Upon my soul and honour, then, you've the advantage of us, for it's more than I could perceive in you; but I'll take your word for it.

Pray what ship may have had the misfortune of losing such a credit to the service ?" "Why, I belonged to the _Snapper_ cutter," replied the young lad; "I was taken in a prize, which the commanding officer had given in my charge to take to Gibraltar: but they won't believe that I'm an officer.

I have applied for officer's allowance and rations, and they won't give them to me." "Well, but they know that we are officers," replied O'Brien; "why do they shove us in here, with the common seamen ?" "I suppose you are only put in here for the present," replied the cutter's midshipman; "but why I cannot tell." Nor could we, until afterwards, when we found out, as our narrative will show, that the officer who received us from the cuirassiers had once quarrelled with Colonel O'Brien, who first pulled his nose, and afterwards ran him through the body.