It may be thought that what I shall here call dyspeptic giants, or giant
dyspeptics, were better designated as monsters, than giants. Be it so,
for we will not quarrel about names; though a difficulty might be found
in making the required distinction between giants and monsters; for is
not every giant a monster?

Not far from the year 1830, perhaps a little earlier, you might have
seen, in connection with a certain private seminary of education, in New
England, one of these giant dyspeptics. I do not mean, of course, that
he had already attained to giant size, but only that what proved in the
result to be gigantic was already a giant in miniature, and was rapidly
advancing to one of magnitude.

He had early been a cabin boy; and like many other cabin boys, had been
gluttonous, and in some respects intemperate. Not by any means, that he
had ever been guilty of downright intoxication; for of this I have no
certain knowledge. My belief is, however, that he had gone very far in
this direction, though he might not have--probably _had_ not--been
justly chargeable with going quite to the last extremity.

But why should such a young man be found at a seminary of learning? Was
he with "birds of a feather?" Do not these attract each other?

Mr. Gray, for that is the name I shall give to our young dyspeptic, had
been recently subjected to the influences of one of those seasons of
excitement well known in the religious world by the name of _revivals_;
and what is not at all uncommon with the rude and uncultivated minds of
even more hardened sailors than he, a great change had come over him. In
short, he had the appearance, in every respect, of being a truly
converted young man.

Why this change of character had led him to this school-house, may not
at first appear. Yet such a result is by no means unusual. This waking
up the mind, by awakening the soul, and causing it to hunger and thirst
after knowledge, has been observed long since, by those who have had
their eyes open to what was going on around them.

Young Gray was penniless, and his parents not only poor, but
overburdened with the cares of a large family, so that they could give
him no aid but by their prayers. He was not, however, to be discouraged
by poverty. He agreed to ring the bell, sweep the hall, build fires,
etc., for his board and tuition. As for clothing, he had none, or almost
none. Charity, cold as her hand oftentimes is, supplied him with
something. Dy