p the house, took in a partner with money, and
went fishing for a season, at the end of which the partner--a shrewd
business man--owned the smack.

The boy acquired a wonderful increase of health and strength, and a
consuming love for a pretty girl of the village, a trader's daughter
named Minnie, who repulsed him firmly and emphatically because of his
poverty--for the house and base-burner were not desirable assets--and
because of his weak mental and physical equipment.

But there is a school for weak mentality and physique--the Seven Seas.
And to this school went John Quinbey, first, however, putting in one
season on the Georges Bank, where, in a lucky craft, he made money.
Richer than ever before in his life, he returned home, to try again for
the heart and hand of Minnie, but found her married to the minister, a
man as weak, flat-chested, and anaemic as he himself had been.

He reasoned crudely. He did not meet Minnie, but took stock and measure
of the minister, a gentleman named Simpson; then, feeling his own
expanding chest and enlarging muscles, decided that Minnie would soon
be a widow, and he a strong man with money; for he could work, and,
having no vices, could save. So, for love of Minnie, he went back to
sea, resolved to become a captain, resolved to save every cent he
earned, and resolved to balk at no hardship that would lead him to
success.

At Boston, he shipped before the mast as able seaman in a big
deep-water ship. He was not an able seaman, nor did he become one on
this voyage; it required several; but each one marked a steady advance
in muscular strength, mental activity, and bank account; and, at the
end of the fifth, he signed as boatswain--an able man who knew his
work.

He was strong, broad-shouldered, and active; the slightly vacant look
in his face that had come from his boyhood incapacity had changed to a
frank stare that demanded consideration and respect. He seldom asked a
question twice now--once was usually enough. He had a fist that could
smash the panels of a door, a voice that he could not modulate to
conversational tones--so used was he to sending it against the wind. He
did not use tobacco, nor did he drink, for these things cost money, and
he was thinking of Minnie, most precious of all things in the world.

At the end of each voyage he visited home, deposited the money he had
brought, and waited in the street just long enough for a sight of
Minnie, sweet and matronly, and f