es."

"So do I. The captain is in a most marvellous humour this morning. He
told me one or two yarns that quite staggered my politeness and my
respect for him on the quarter-deck. What a pity it is that a man
should have gained such a bad habit!"

"He's quite incurable, I'm afraid," replied I; "but, certainly, his fibs
do no harm; they are what they call white lies: I do not think he would
really tell a lie, that is, a lie which would be considered to disgrace
a gentleman."

"Peter, _all_ lies disgrace a gentleman, white or black; although I
grant there is a difference. To say the least of it, it is a dangerous
habit, for white lies are but the gentlemen ushers to black ones. I
know but of one point on which a lie is excusable, and that is, when you
wish to deceive the enemy. Then your duty to your country warrants your
lying till you're black in the face; and, for the very reason that it
goes against your grain, it becomes, as if were, a sort of virtue."

"What was the difference between the marine officer and Mr Phillott
that occurred this morning?"

"Nothing at all in itself--the marine officer is a bit of a gaby, and
takes offence where none is meant. Mr Phillott has a foul tongue, but
he has a good heart."

"What a pity it is!"

"It is a pity, for he's a smart officer; but the fact is, Peter, that
junior officers are too apt to copy their superiors, and that makes it
very important that a young gentleman should sail with a captain who is
a gentleman. Now, Phillott served the best of his time with Captain
Ballover, who is notorious in the service for foul and abusive language.
What is the consequence?--that Phillott, and many others, who have
served under him, have learnt his bad habit."

"I should think, O'Brien, that the very circumstance of having had your
feelings so often wounded by such language when you were a junior
officer, would make you doubly careful not to make use of it to others,
when you had advanced in the service."

"Peter, that's just the _first_ feeling, which wears away after a time;
but at last, your own sense of indignation becomes blunted, and becoming
indifferent to it, you forget also that you wound the feelings of
others, and carry the habit with you, to the great injury and disgrace
of the service. But it's time to dress for dinner, so you'd better make
yourself scarce, Peter, while I tidivate myself off a little, according
to the rules and regulations of His Majesty's