d his life more than once in saving the lives of others, and it was
a notable fact that many of the antagonists of his boyhood became, at
last, his most intimate friends.

Fred Temple was fair and ruddy. At about the age of nineteen certain
parts of his good-looking face became covered with a substance
resembling floss-silk. At twenty-five this substance had changed into a
pair of light whiskers and a lighter moustache. By means of that
barbarous custom called shaving he kept his chin smooth.

Fred's father was a wealthy Liverpool merchant. At the period when our
tale opens Fred himself had become chief manager of the business.
People began, about this time, to say that the business could not get on
without him. There were a great number of hands, both men and women,
employed by Temple and Son, and there was not one on the establishment,
male or female, who did not say and believe that Mr Frederick was the
best master, not only in Liverpool, but in the whole world. He did not
by any means overdose the people with attentions; but he had a hearty
offhand way of addressing them that was very attractive. He was a firm
ruler. No skulker had a chance of escape from his sharp eye, but, on
the other hand, no hard-working servant was overlooked.

One day it was rumoured in the works that Mr Frederick was going to
take a long holiday. Since his appointment to the chief charge, Fred
had taken few holidays, and had worked so hard that he began to have a
careworn aspect, so the people said they were "glad to hear it; no one
in the works deserved a long holiday better than he." But the people
were not a little puzzled when Bob Bowie, the office porter, told them
that their young master was going away for three months to chase the
sun!

"Chase the sun, Bob! what d'ye mean?" said one. "I don't know wot I
mean; I can only tell ye wot I say," answered Bowie bluntly.

Bob Bowie was an old salt--a retired seaman--who had sailed long as
steward of one of the ships belonging to the House of Temple and Son,
and, in consequence of gallantry in saving the life of a comrade, had
been pensioned off, and placed in an easy post about the office, with
good pay. He was called Old Bob because he looked old, and was
weather-worn, but he was stout and hale, and still fit for active
service.

"Come, Bowie," cried another, "how d'ye know he's goin' to chase the
sun?"

"Cause I heerd him say so," replied Bob.

"Was he in earnest?" inq