and the more eloquent he was in the utterance of oaths the
larger became his conviction that he possessed a gift not to
be acquired by mere tuition. Many years ago, when I was a
very small apprentice boy aboard a brig we had a steward
who was also a sailor of no common ability. His career had
been a long one of varied villainy, he impersonating
alternately a parson and a rich shipowner. In the latter
_rôle_ he succeeded in getting large advances of money from
unsuspecting store, sail, and rope dealers--taking advantage
of a trade-custom which prevails in every port, in return
for which he gave orders, which caused the favoured firms to
be looked upon with envy. They were requested to have these
supplies put aboard four days after the order was given; and
the penalty for not being able to do so was to be the loss
of a very valuable connection. There was much condescension
on the part of the bounteous customer, who "would call again
in two days," and much thanking and bowing and shaking of
hands on the part of the recipients when the time came to
say "Good-day." The stores were duly sent to the docks where
the vessels were lying, but the real owners did not
recognise the person who had given the order as having any
connection with them, whereupon an unhappy dawn broke over
the minds of the unsuspecting victims. Many months elapsed
before the gentleman in question was apprehended and
confronted by the tradesmen to whom he owed a period of
blissful dissipation. Needless to say the meeting was not so
cordial as the parting, though a lack of cordiality could
not be charged against the improvised shipowner. Indeed, to
the great discomfort of his former friends, as soon as an
opportunity was given him, from his position in the