er all,
was not worth caring for; cold and misery aloft, kicks and thumps below.
Don't you go to sea; if you do, after what I've told you, why then
you're a greater fool than you look to be."

"I don't want to be a sailor," replied Joey, "but I must do something to
get my living. You are very kind: will you tell me what to do?"

"Why, do you know, when I saw you come up to me, when I was looking at
the pictures, in your frock and trousers, you put me in mind, because
you are so much like him, of a poor little boy who was drowned the other
day alongside of an India ship; that's why I stared, for I thought you
were he, at first."

"How was he drowned, poor fellow?" responded Joey.

"Why, you see, his aunt is a good old soul, who keeps a bumboat, and
goes off to the shipping."

"What's a bumboat?"

"A boat full of soft tommy, soldiers, pipes, and backey, rotten apples,
stale pies, needles and threads, and a hundred other things; besides a
fat old woman sitting in the stern sheets."

Joey stared; he did not know that "soft tommy" meant loaves of bread, or
that "soldiers" was the term for red-herrings. He only thought that the
boat must be very full.

"Now, you see that little Peter was her right-hand man, for she can't
read and write. Can you? but of course you can."

"Yes, I can," replied Joey.

"Well, little Peter was holding on by the painter against a hard sea,
but his strength was not equal to it, and so when a swell took the boat
he was pulled right overboard, and he was drowned."

"Was the painter drowned too?" inquired Joey.

"Ha! ha! that's capital; why, the painter is a rope. Now, the old woman
has been dreadfully put out, and does nothing but cry about little
Peter, and not being able to keep her accounts. Now, you look very like
him, and I think it very likely the old woman would take you in his
place, if I went and talked her over; that's better than going to sea,
for at all events you sleep dry and sound on shore every night, even if
you do have a wet jacket sometimes. What d'ye think?"

"I think you are very kind; and I should be glad to take the place."

"Well, she's a good old soul, and has a warm heart, and trusts them who
have no money; too much, I'm afraid, for she loses a great deal. So now
I'll go and speak to her, for she'll be alongside of us when I go on
board; and where shall I find you when I come on shore in the evening?"

"Wherever you say, I will be."

"Well, then, me