stop to. She's a
wise woman is Miss Robinson. She don't hamper us wi' no rules. Why,
bless you, Jack ashore would never submit to rules! He gits more than
enough o' them afloat. No; it's liberty hall here. We may come an' go
as we like, at all hours o' the day and night, an' do exactly as we
please, so long as we don't smash up the furnitur', or feed without
payin', or make ourselves a gineral noosance. They don't even forbid
swearin'. They say they leave the matter o' lingo to our own good taste
and good sense. An' d'you know, it's wonderful what an' amount o' both
we've got w'en we ain't worried about it! You'll scarce hear an oath in
this house from mornin' to evenin', though you'll hear a deal o' snorin'
doorin' the night! That's how the place takes so well, d'ee see?"

"Then the _Welcome_ is well patronised, I suppose?"

"Patronised!" exclaimed the seaman; "that's so, an' no mistake. Why,
mate--But what's your name? I've forgot to ax you that all this time!"

"Call me Miles," said our hero, with some hesitation.

"_Call_ you Miles! _Ain't_ you Miles?"

"Well, yes, I am; only there's more of my name than that, but that's
enough for your purpose, I daresay."

"All right. Well, Miles, you was askin' how the house is patronised.
I'll tell 'ee. They make up about two hundred an' twenty beds in it
altogether, an' these are chock-full a'most every night. One way or
another they had forty-four thousand men, more or less, as slep' under
this roof last year--so I've bin told. That's patronisin', ain't it?
To say nothin' o' the fellers as comes for--grub, which, as you've
found, is good for the money, and the attendants is civil. You see,
they're always kind an' attentive here, 'cause they professes to think
more of our souls than our bodies--which we've no objection to, d'ee
see, for the lookin' arter our souls includes the lookin' arter our
bodies! An' they don't bother us in no way to attend their
Bible-readin's an' sitchlike. There they are in separate rooms; if you
want 'em you may go; if you don't, you can let 'em alone. No
compulsion, which comes quite handy to some on us, for I don't myself
care much about sitchlike things. So long's my body's all right, I
leaves my soul to look arter itself."

As the seaman said this with a good-natured smile of indifference, there
sprang to the mind of his young companion words that had often been
impressed on him by his mother: "What shall it profit a