posed that we should "take a cruise"
through the grounds till "the grub" was ready. During the walk, he
amused me greatly with his tales of the sea; but I was often obliged
to request him to interpret terms which were as unintelligible to me
as Hebrew or Sanscrit. He laughed heartily at my ignorance, but did
all in his power to enlighten me.

"You have not had the benefit of a sea education, so what can we
expect from you? I'll tell you what, my young friend--I would as soon
come athwart the hawse of a shark as a lawyer (no offence to _you_),
but, somehow or other, I like the cut of your jib, and think we shall
be good friends nevertheless."

"Oh," said I, laughing, alluding to my professional visit, "I am not
the lawyer, but the lawyer's _avant courier_--the pilot-fish, not the
shark."

He laughed heartily, and kept bantering me on the sharking
propensities of my tribe in such an amusing manner that I could not
restrain my mirth. At last, the dinner-bell rang.

"Ah! there's pipe to dinner at last! Come along, youngster; let's see
if you can take your grub as well as you can take a joke."

We dined alone; for his only daughter, he told me, had gone to visit a
neighbour, and would not return till evening. The dinner was
substantial and good; the wines excellent; but, though the old
gentleman pressed me much to drink, he was very moderate himself. When
the cloth was removed, he said--

"Now I will pipe to grog; if you like to join my mess, do so, unless
you prefer your wine."

"Why, if you have no objection," said I, "I will not desert this
capital claret; you may have all the grog to yourself."

"Well, tastes differ; of course, as a landsman you prefer wine; but
you know the old song says--

'A sailor's sheet-anchor is grog.'"

He told me a number of his old adventures; and hours passed away like
minutes in listening to them; but I am free to admit that none of his
yarns were half so pleasant to me as some of the silken thread-ends he
let fall about his daughter Emmeline. There was something in the rough
manner in which he gave vent to the feelings of a father, that
possessed a tenderness which never could have been expressed by the
soft vocables of sentimentality. It is thus (excuse my poetry) that we
often admire the fragrance of a flower the more for the rough petals
from which it emanates. I was captivated, and twitched the old
gentleman on the string which yielded me the best music, till I
thought