dividuality which among seamen of
the days before steam, when the world was less small and less
frequented, was more common than it is now, when we so cluster that,
like shot in a barrel, we are rounded and polished by mere attrition.
Formerly, characteristics had more chance to emphasize themselves and
throw out angles, as I believe they still do in long polar seclusions.
Withal, there came from him from time to time a whiff of the naval
atmosphere of the past, like that from a drawer where lavender has
been. Going ashore once with him for a constitutional, he caught
sight of a necktie which my fond mother had given me. It was black,
yes; but with variations. "Humph!" he ejaculated; "don't wear a thing
like that with me. You look like a privateersman." There spoke the
rivalries of 1812. There had not been a privateersman in the United
States for near a half-century. A great chum of his was the senior
surgeon of the frigate, a man near his own years. Leaving the ship
together for a walk, the surgeon, crossing the deck, smudged his white
trousers with paint or coal-tar, the free application of which in
unexpected places is one of the snares attending a well-appearing
man-of-war. "Never mind, doctor," said the flag-officer, consolingly,
falling back like Sancho Panza on an ancient proverb; "remember the
two dirtiest things in the world are a clean ship and a clean
soldier"--paint and pipe-clay, to wit.

Another trait was an extensive, though somewhat mild, profanity which
took no account of ladies' presence, although he was almost
exaggeratedly deferential to them, as well as cordially courteous to
all. His speech was like his gait, tripping. I remember the arrival of
the first steamer of a new French line to Rio. Steam mail-service was
there and then exceptional; most of our home letters still came by
sailing-vessel; consequently, this was an event, and brought the
inevitable banquet. He was present; I also, as his aide, seated nearly
opposite him, with two or three other of our officers. He was called
to respond to a toast. "Gentlemen and ladies!" he began. "No! Ladies
and gentlemen--ladies always first, d--n me!" What more he said I do
not recall, although we all loyally applauded him. Many years
afterwards, when he was old and feeble, an acquaintance of mine met
him, and he began to tell of the tombstone of some person in whom he
was interested. After various particulars, he startled his auditor
with the general desc