without foundation) about their wild doings in the
interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight
months almost in perfect solitude, they hadn't had a chance of letting
their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the
ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch of new clerks, and among
them was this miserable chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamed _Butter_.
He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton),
and he hadn't been here a week before the wild blades from the interior,
who were bursting with fun and mischief, began to play off all kinds of
practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down at the
mess-table, our worthy governor (who, you are aware, detests practical
jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which raised a laugh
against him for many a day. You know that old Mr Rogan is rather
absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to mess (it was
breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronising sort of way, to
sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and having never, I
fancy, been away from his mother's apron-string before, he seemed to
feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as a sort of
novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into his lap,
which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into suppressed
fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry grouse at the
time, so it didn't make much of a mess.

"`Try some fish, Peterkin,' said Mr Rogan kindly, seeing that the youth
was ill at ease. `That old grouse is tough enough to break your knife.'

"`A very rough passage,' replied the youngster, whose mind was quite
confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, giving
to his next neighbour a graphic account of the voyage in a very loud
key--`I mean, if you please, no, thank you,' he stammered, endeavouring
to correct himself.

"`Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.--Here, Anderson,' (turning to the butler),
`a cup of tea to Mr Peterkin.'

"The butler obeyed the order.

"`And here, fill my cup,' said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an
earnest conversation, into which he had plunged with the gentleman on
his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops,
but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have
it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin's cup _was_, so he
emptied it innocently into