them. This my mother would not listen to, as regarded herself and my
sister; but my father messed in what is called the married men's room,
on my account, and instead of buying my own dinner, or applying to my
mother for it, I now always took it with my father in the hospital. In
consequence of my father's admittance as a pensioner, both I and my
sister might have been instructed at the hospital school; but my mother
would not premit Virginia to go there, and I found it much more
convenient to go to Peter Anderson in the evening, when I had nothing to
do. On the whole, we all went on much more comfortably than we did
before my father's return.

One evening I was, as usual, with Anderson in his cabin; my father
having been drafted into his ward, I could not help asking Anderson how
he liked him. His reply was, "I like your father, Jack, for he is a
straightforward, honest, good-tempered man, and, moreover, has a good
natural judgment. I think it a great pity that such a man as he is
should be so early in life lost, as it were, to the country. He is a
first-rate seaman; and although there are many like him, still there are
none to spare. However, if his country loses, he may himself gain, by
being so soon called away from a service of great temptation. The sailor
who has fought for his country, Jack, has much to be thankful for when
he takes in moorings at Greenwich Hospital. He is well fed, well
clothed, tended in sickness, and buried with respect; but all these are
nothing compared with the greatest boon. When I reflect what lives
sailors live, how reckless they are, how often they have been on the
brink of eternity, and wonderfully preserved, without even a feeling of
gratitude to Him who has watched over them, or taking their escapes as
warnings; when I consider how they pass their whole lives in excess,
intemperance, and, too often, blasphemy, it is indeed a mercy that they
are allowed to repose here after such a venturous and careless career;