e and looked over. In response to his
startled cry the others drew near, and all three stood gazing at the dead
man below.

[Illustration: "All three stood gazing at the dead man below."]

PETER'S PENCE

Sailormen don't bother much about their relations, as a rule, said the
night-watchman; sometimes because a railway-ticket costs as much as a
barrel o' beer, and they ain't got the money for both, and sometimes
because most relations run away with the idea that a sailorman has been
knocking about 'arf over the world just to bring them 'ome presents.

Then, agin, some relations are partikler about appearances, and they
don't like it if a chap don't wear a collar and tidy 'imself up. Dress
is everything nowadays; put me in a top 'at and a tail-coat, with a
twopenny smoke stuck in my mouth, and who would know the difference
between me and a lord? Put a bishop in my clothes, and you'd ask 'im to
'ave a 'arf-pint as soon as you would me--sooner, p'r'aps.

[Illustration: "Put a bishop in my clothes, and you'd ask 'im to 'ave a
'arf-pint as soon as you would me."]

Talking of relations reminds me of Peter Russet's uncle. It's some years
ago now, and Peter and old Sam Small and Ginger Dick 'ad just come back
arter being away for nearly ten months. They 'ad all got money in their
pockets, and they was just talking about the spree they was going to
have, when a letter was brought to Peter, wot had been waiting for 'im at
the office.

He didn't like opening it at fust. The last letter he had 'ad kept 'im
hiding indoors for a week, and then made him ship a fortnight afore 'e
had meant to. He stood turning it over and over, and at last, arter Sam,
wot was always a curious man, 'ad told 'im that if he didn't open it he'd
do it for 'im, he tore it open and read it.

"It's from my old uncle, George Goodman," he ses, staring. "Why, I ain't
seen 'im for over twenty years."

"Do you owe 'im any money?" ses Sam.

Peter shook his 'ead. "He's up in London," he ses, looking at the letter
agin, "up in London for the fust time in thirty-three years, and he wants
to come and stay with me so that I can show 'im about."

"Wot is he?" ses Sam.

"He's retired," ses Peter, trying not to speak proud.

"Got money?" ses Sam, with a start.

"I b'leeve so," ses Peter, in a off-hand way. "I don't s'pose 'e lives
on air."

"Any wives or children?" ses Sam.

"No," ses Peter. "He 'ad a wife, but she died."

"Then you hav