I recall; he died abroad before I
was grown presentable. 'Twas kind in him, I have always
thought, to help my uncle in his task of transforming me, for
'twas done with no personal responsibility whatsoever in the
matter, but solely of good feeling. I owed him but one
grudge, and that a short-lived one, going back to the year
when I was seven: 'twas by advice o' Sir Harry that I was made
to tub myself, every morning, in the water of the season, be
it crusted with ice or not, with my uncle listening at the
door to hear the splash and gasp.

XVII

RUM AND RUIN

In these days at Twist Tickle, his perturbation passed, my uncle was
most blithe: for the _Shining Light_ was made all ready for sea, with
but an anchor to slip, sails to raise, for flight from an army of St.
John's constables; and we were a pleasant company, well fallen in
together, in a world of fall weather. And, says he, if the conduct of
a damned little Chesterfieldian young gentleman was a labor t' manage,
actin' accordin' t' that there fashionable ol' lord of the realm, by
advice o' Sir Harry, whatever the lad in the case, whether good or
bad, why, then, a maid o' the place, ecod! was but a pastime t' rear,
an' there, says he, you had it! 'Twas at night, when he was come in
from the sea, and the catch was split, and we sat with him over his
rum, that he beamed most widely. He would come cheerily stumping from
his mean quarters above, clad in the best of his water-side slops, all
ironed and brushed, his great face glossy from soap and water, his
hair dripping; and he would fall into the arms of his great-chair by
the fire with a genial grunt of satisfaction, turning presently to
regard us, John Cather and Judy and me, with a grin so wide and
sparkling and benevolently indulgent and affectionate--with an aspect
so patriarchal--that our hearts would glow and our faces responsively
shine.

"Up with un, Dannie!" says he.

I would lift the ailing bit of timber to the stool with gingerly
caution.

"Easy, lad!" groans he. "Ouch! All ship-shape," says he. "Is you got
the little brown jug o' water?"

'Twould surely be there.

"Green pastures!" says he, so radiantly red, from his bristling gray
stubble of hair to the folds of his chin, that I was reminded of a
glowing coal. "There you haves it, Dannie!" cries he. "I knowed they
was some truth in that there psa'm. Green pastures! '_He maketh me t'