our father, and I don't think
Peter, although he may be proud of your turning out so well, can feel
exactly for you what a father does. I'm proud enough of you, Heaven
knows, and it does hurt me a little when I find that, whenever you come
here, it is for Peter Anderson, and it makes me wish sometimes that I
had been Peter Anderson instead of your father."

"Indeed, father," replied I, "I hope you don't think that I like
Anderson better than I do you; but you recollect that I have been
accustomed all my life to take his advice."

"I know it, boy, I know it. I was serving my country and doing my duty
on board of a King's ship, and you were left here, and therefore lucky
it was that you fell in with old Peter; but, Tom, I could not be in two
places at the same time, and if I did not do my duty as a father toward
you, at all events I was doing my duty to my country."

"To be sure you were, and it was of more importance than looking after a
brat like me," replied I, soothingly, for I really never had the idea
that my father could have showed so much feeling.

"Why, Tom, I can't say that I thought so, for the fact is I didn't think
about it; indeed, I thought about nothing. Sailors afloat have little
time to think; they can't think when it's their watch on deck, for they
are too busy; nor at their watch below, for they're too tired; nor at
meal-times, for they must look after their share of the victuals;
indeed, there is not any time to think on board ship, and that's a fact.
But, Tom, since I've been laid up here I have thought a good deal. All
is calm and quiet, and one day passes just like the other, and no fear
of interruption when one don't wish it--and I have thought a good deal.
At first I thought it a hard case to be shoved on the shelf at my age,
but I don't think so now--I'm quite satisfied."

"I'm glad to hear you say so, father."

"Yes, Tom. And then, you see, when I was afloat, I didn't think any good
of your mother, and I was glad to keep out of her way; and then I didn't
care about my children, for I didn't know them; but now I've other
thoughts, Tom. I don't think your mother so bad, after all; to be sure,
she looks down upon me 'cause I'm not genteel; but I suppose I aren't,
and she has been used to the company of gentlefolk; besides she works
hard, and now that I don't annoy her by getting tipsy, as I used to
do, at all events she's civil; and then I never knew what it was to have
children until I cam