people sometimes do.
Nobody had ever instructed him that a slave-ship, with a procession of
expectant sharks in its wake, is a missionary institution, by which
closely-packed heathens are brought over to enjoy the light of the
gospel.

So, though George was acknowledged to be a good fellow, and honest as
the noon-mark on the kitchen floor, he let slip so many chances of
making money as seriously to compromise his reputation among thriving
folks. He was wastefully generous,--insisted on treating every poor dog
that came in his way, in any foreign port, as a brother,--absolutely
refused to be party in cheating or deceiving the heathen on any shore,
or in skin of any color,--and also took pains, as far as in him lay, to
spoil any bargains which any of his subordinates founded on the
ignorance or weakness of his fellow-men. So he made voyage after voyage,
and gained only his wages and the reputation among his employers of an
incorruptibly honest fellow.

To be sure, it was said that he carried out books in his ship, and read
and studied, and wrote observations on all the countries he saw, which
Parson Smith told Miss Dolly Persimmon would really do credit to a
printed book; but then they never _were_ printed, or, as Miss Dolly
remarked of them, they never seemed to come to anything,--and coming to
anything, as she understood it, meant standing in definite relations to
bread and butter.

George never cared, however, for money. He made enough to keep his
mother comfortable, and that was enough for him, till he fell in love
with Katy Stephens. He looked at her through those glasses which such
men carry in their souls, and she was a mortal woman no longer, but a
transfigured, glorified creature,--an object of awe and wonder. He was
actually afraid of her; her glove, her shoe, her needle, thread, and
thimble, her bonnet-string, everything, in short, she wore or touched,
became invested with a mysterious charm. He wondered at the impudence of
men that could walk up and talk to her,--that could ask her to dance
with such an assured air. _Now_ he wished he were rich; he dreamed
impossible chances of his coming home a millionnaire to lay unknown
wealth at Katy's feet; and when Miss Persimmon, the ambulatory
dress-maker of the neighborhood, in making up a new black gown for his
mother, recounted how Captain Blatherem had sent Katy Stephens "'most
the splendidest India shawl that ever she did see," he was ready to tear
his hair a