alt, an' by starts he'd be full o' whimpers
an' sighs as a gale's full o' wind, an' between his fits an' his
starts 'twas small rest that he had, I'm thinkin'. He'd no part with
joy, for he hated laughter, an' none with rest, for he couldn't abide
ease o' mind; an' as for sorrow, 'twas fair more than he could bear t'
look upon an' live, for his conscience was alive an' loud in his
heart, an' what with his religion he lived in despite of its teachin'.

"I've considered an' thought sometimes, overcome a bit by the
spectacle o' grief, an' no stars showin', that had Davy Junk not been
wonderful tender o' heart he'd have nursed no spite against God's
world; an' whatever an' all, had he but had the power an' wisdom, t'
strangle his conscience in its youth he'd have gained peace in his own
path, as many a man afore un.

"'Isn't _my_ fault!' says he, one night. 'Can't blame _me_!'

"'What's that, Skipper Davy?'

"'They says Janet Luff's wee baby has come t' the pass o'
starvation.'

"'Well,' says I, 'what's _your_ tears for?'

"'I isn't got nothin' t' do with this here damned ol' world,' says he.
_'I'm_ only lookin' on. Isn't no good in it, anyhow.'

"'Cheer up!' says I. 'Isn't nobody hurtin' _you_.'

"'Not bein' in love with tears an' hunger,' says he, 'I isn't able t'
cheer up.'

"'There's more'n that in the world.'

"'Ay; death an' sin.'

"I was a lad in love. 'Kisses!' says I.

"'A pother o' blood an' trouble,' says he. 'Death in every mouthful a
man takes.'

"'Skipper Davy,' says I, 'you've come to a dreadful pass.'

"'Ay, an' t' be sure!' says he. 'I've gathered wisdom with my years;
an' every man o' years an' wisdom has come to a dreadful pass. Wait
'til you're thirty-two, lad, an' you'll find it out, an' remember Davy
Junk in kindness, once you feels the fangs o' the world at your
throat. Maybe you thinks, Tumm, that I likes t' live in a wolf's
world. But I doesn't like it. I jus' knows 'tis a wolf's world and
goes cautious accordin'. I didn't make it, an' don't like it, but I'm
here, an' I'm a wolf like the rest. A wolf's world! Ah-ha! You bites
or gets bit down here. Teeth for you an you've no teeth o' your own.
Janet Luff's baby, says you? But a dollar a tooth; an'--I _keeps_ my
teeth; keeps un sharp an' ready for them that might want t' bite me in
my old age. If I was a fish I'd be fond o' angle-worms; bein' born in
a wolf's world, with the soul of a wolf, why, damme, I files my teeth!
Still an' a