ce at brother's last Paris suit, you would have laughed as I did.

I think Clarendon is getting more patient already; for a few weeks since
nothing could have saved a boy from a flogging that had dared to give
him such a glance; but his good-sense is getting uppermost. "Well,
Master David," he said, good-humoredly, "since you don't like our
clothes, you must come to-morrow to our lodgings, and show Pidgie and
myself where to get such beautiful ones as yours."

This morning, before we had half done breakfast, I heard a bright,
pleasant voice asking of our host, in a free and easy way,--"Captain
Peck, is there considerable of a pretending chap here who's going out
fishing in our craft to-day? When the salt water has washed some of his
airs out of him he'll be good for something; and his brother ain't so
bad now."

You should have seen Clarendon taking as much of a glance at himself in
the little wooden-framed looking-glass, opposite the breakfast-table, as
the size of it would allow, when he heard this qualified compliment.

"A pretty way, that, of speaking of Clarendon Beverley!" he exclaimed,
almost fiercely. "These Yankees have no respect for any thing on earth,
but their own boorish selves."

"But he is only a little boy, about thirteen or fourteen, brother," I
said, coaxingly; "and that's his way of praising." For I did not want to
lose our new acquaintance. "He can show us where to get our clothes,
just as well as if he had better manners."

The scene at the little shop where we went for our new clothes was
comical, even to me, though I am used to brother's ways; so I could not
wonder that some sailors at the door laughed out.

"I would like some coarse jackets and trousers for this lad and myself,"
he said. "Of course, we do not need any different under-clothes."

"That shirt of yours," said the shopman, pointing to the ribbon binding
of a fine silk shirt, which had slipped below brother's beautiful linen
wristband, "would be terribly uncomfortable when it was wringing wet,
and soon spoiled by sailor's washing. Nobody of any sense would think of
going to sea in such things as those."

Poor Clarendon! the thought of those red-flannel shirts was near killing
him; for they were just like those our negroes wear, and so were the
duck trousers. When, at last, he was persuaded to have them sent home,
and put them on for trial, they did seem most ludicrously unsuitable. I
never saw him, however, look so handsome i