llallow.”
“Verytrue,verytrue.WhatMissAnnesays,isverytrue,”wasMrShepherd’srejoinder,and“Oh!certainly,”washisdaughter’sbutSirWalter’sremarkwas,soonafterwards—
“Theprofessionhasitsutility,butIshouldbesorrytoseeanyfriendofminebelongingtoit.”
“Indeed!”wasthereply,andwithalookofsurprise.
“YesitisintwopointsoffensivetomeIhavetwostronggroundsofobjectiontoit.First,asbeingthemeansofbringingpersonsofobscurebirthintounduedistinction,andraisingmentohonourswhichtheirfathersandgrandfathersneverdreamtofandsecondly,asitcutsupaman’syouthandvigourmosthorriblyasailorgrowsoldsoonerthananyotherman.Ihaveobserveditallmylife.Amanisingreaterdangerinthenavyofbeinginsultedbytheriseofonewhosefather,hisfathermighthavedisdainedtospeakto,andofbecomingprematurelyanobjectofdisgusthimself,thaninanyotherline.Onedaylastspring,intown,Iwasincompanywithtwomen,strikinginstancesofwhatIamtalkingofLordStIves,whosefatherweallknowtohavebeenacountrycurate,withoutbreadtoeatIwastogiveplacetoLordStIves,andacertainAdmiralBaldwin,themostdeplorable-lookingpersonageyoucanimaginehisfacethecolourofmahogany,roughandruggedtothelastdegreealllinesandwrinkles,ninegreyhairsofaside,andnothingbutadabofpowderattop.‘Inthenameofheaven,whoisthatoldfellow?’saidItoafriendofminewhowasstandingnear,(SirBasilMorley).‘Oldfellow!’criedSirBasil,‘itisAdmiralBaldwin.Whatdoyoutakehisagetobe?’‘Sixty,’saidI,‘orperhapssixty-two.’‘Forty,’repliedSirBasil,‘forty,andnomore.’PicturetoyourselvesmyamazementIshallnoteasilyforgetAdmiralBaldwin.Ineversawquitesowretchedanexampleofwhatasea-faringlifecandobuttoadegree,Iknowitisthesamewiththemall:theyareallknockedabout,andexposedtoeveryclimate,andeveryweather,tilltheyarenotfittobeseen.Itisapitytheyarenotknockedontheheadatonce,beforetheyreachAdmiralBaldwin’sage.”
“Nay,SirWalter,”criedMrsClay,“thisisbeingsevereindeed.Havealittlemercyonthepoor