ll events would try to like me; but still I do feel that you can't
look up to me exactly; but that's my misfortune, Tom, more than my
fault. I haven't larning like Anderson, or gentility like your mother:
I've only a true heart to offer to you. You see, Tom, I've said all
this because you are always after Anderson; not but that I like
Anderson, for he's a good man, and has been of sarvice to me, and I
don't think he would ever say anything to you that would make you think
less of me."

"No, indeed, father; on the contrary, I once asked him his opinion about
you, and he spoke most highly of you; and whenever I go to him for
advice, he always sends me to you to approve of what he has said."

"Well, he is a good man, and I'm very sorry to have any feeling of envy
in me, that's the truth; but still a father must have a father's
feelings. Don't let us say anything more about it, Tom; only try next
time, when you want advice, whether I can't give it. You can always go
to Peter afterwards, and see whether I'm right or wrong."

"I will indeed, my dear father, now I know that you wish it."

I never felt so warm towards my father as after this conversation; there
was so much affection towards me, and yet so much humility shown by him,
as respected himself, that I was quite touched with it, and I began to
think that he really had had occasion to complain, and that I had not
treated him with that respect which he deserved.

"Now, Tom, I've something to say to you. When Anderson, Bramble, and I
were taking a pipe together last night, Bramble said that he had a
letter from the captain of the Indiaman, offering you a berth on board
as guinea-pig, or midshipman. He said that he had not shown it to you
as yet, because it was of no use, as he was sure you would not accept
it. Well, Anderson and I said that at least you ought to know it, and
have the refusal; and your mother pricked up her ears and said that it
was much more genteel than being a pilot; so I now put the question to
you."

"Thank you, father; but Bramble was right. I shall not accept of it,
although I am much obliged to the captain."

Here my father stopped me. "First, Tom," said he, "we must overhaul the
pros and cons, as people call them. Old Anderson weighed them very
closely, and now you shall hear them." Here my father commenced a long
story, with which I shall not tire the reader, as to the prospects on
either side; but as soon as he had finished I r