oke up. The Captain walked
to the "Mariner's Home" with his guest, in order to question him
regarding his future movements.

"Well, sir," said he, "I ain't as young as I was, an' I don't cal'ulate
to go to sea no more. I proposes to drop anchor here, an' hug the
land until the old hulk goes to pieces. I've got two or three thousand
dollars in the locker, an' expects to get on uncommon comfortable
without askin' no odds from the Assylum for Decayed Mariners."

My grandfather indorsed the plan warmly, and Sailor Ben did drop anchor
in Rivermouth, where he speedily became one of the institutions of the
town.

His first step was to buy a small one-story cottage located at the
head of the wharf, within gun-shot of the Nutter House. To the great
amusement of my grandfather, Sailor Ben painted the cottage a light
sky-blue, and ran a broad black stripe around it just under the eaves.
In this stripe he painted white port-holes, at regular distances, making
his residence look as much like a man-of-war as possible. With a short
flag-staff projecting over the door like a bowsprit, the effect was
quite magical. My description of the exterior of this palatial residence
is complete when I add that the proprietor nailed a horseshoe against
the front door to keep off the witches--a very necessary precaution in
these latitudes.

The inside of Sailor Ben's abode was not less striking than the outside.
The cottage contained two rooms; the one opening on the wharf he
called his cabin; here he ate and slept. His few tumblers and a frugal
collection of crockery were set in a rack suspended over the table,
which had a cleat of wood nailed round the edge to prevent the dishes
from sliding off in case of a heavy sea. Hanging against the walls
were three or four highly colored prints of celebrated frigates, and
a lithograph picture of a rosy young woman insufficiently clad in the
American flag. This was labelled "Kitty," though I'm sure it looked no
more like her than I did. A walrus-tooth with an Esquimaux engraved on
it, a shark's jaw, and the blade of a sword-fish were among the enviable
decorations of this apartment. In one corner stood his bunk, or bed,
and in the other his well-worn sea-chest, a perfect Pandora's box of
mysteries. You would have thought yourself in the cabin of a real ship.

The little room aft, separated from the cabin by a sliding door, was the
caboose. It held a cooking-stove, pots, pans, and groceries; also a lot