once in the right; it's living with you, and
seeing you do wrong, and hearing you talk wickedly, that makes me
tremble."

"Bother!" said the captain, "you need not crow over me. Stand up, Will;
there now, look at us two in the glass! Why, I look ten years younger
than you do, in spite of all my troubles. I dress like a gentleman, as
I am; I have money in my pocket; I put money in yours; without me you'd
starve. Look you, you carried over a little fortune to Australia--you
married--you farmed--you lived honestly, and yet that d---d
shilly-shally disposition of yours, 'ticed into one speculation to-day,
and scared out of another to-morrow, ruined you!"

"Jerry! Jerry!" cried William, writhing; "don't--don't."

"But it's all true, and I wants to cure you of preaching. And then,
when you were nearly run out, instead of putting a bold face on it, and
setting your shoulder to the wheel, you gives it up--you sells what you
have--you bolts over, wife and all, to Boston, because some one tells
you you can do better in America--you are out of the way when a search
is made for you--years ago when you could have benefited yourself and
your master's family without any danger to you or me--nobody can find
you; 'cause why, you could not bear that your old friends in England, or
in the colony either, should know that you were turned a slave-driver in
Kentucky. You kick up a mutiny among the niggers by moaning over them,
instead of keeping 'em to it--you get kicked out yourself--your wife
begs you to go back to Australia, where her relations will do something
for you--you work your passage out, looking as ragged as a colt
from grass--wife's uncle don't like ragged nephews-in-law--wife dies
broken-hearted--and you might be breaking stones on the roads with the
convicts, if I, myself a convict, had not taken compassion on you. Don't
cry, Will, it is all for your own good--I hates cant! Whereas I, my own
master from eighteen, never stooped to serve any other--have dressed
like a gentleman--kissed the pretty girls--drove my pheaton--been in all
the papers as 'the celebrated Dashing Jerry'--never wanted a guinea in
my pocket, and even when lagged at last, had a pretty little sum in
the colonial bank to lighten my misfortunes. I escape,--I bring you
over--and here I am, supporting you, and in all probability, the one on
whom depends the fate of one of the first families in the country. And
you preaches at me, do you? Look you, Will;--in thi