s, and bears down upon the Gravel-pits; in particular
knowledge of the names of streets he is deficient, but he knows the
exact bearings of Christie's dwelling. He tacks and wears according as
masonry compels him, and he arrives at the gate. He hails the house,
in a voice that brings all the inhabitants of the row to their windows,
including Christie; he is fallen upon and dragged into the house. The
first thing is, he draws out from his boots, and his back, and other
hiding-places, China crape and marvelous silk handkerchiefs for
Christie; and she takes from his pocket a mass of Oriental sugar-plums,
with which, but for this precaution, she knows by experience he would
poison young Charley; and soon he is to be seen sitting with his hand
in his sister's, and she lookng like a mother upon his handsome,
weather-beaten face, and Gatty opposite, adoring him as a specimen of
male beauty, and sometimes making furtive sketches of him. And then the
tales he always brings with him; the house is never very dull, but it is
livelier than ever when this inexhaustible sailor casts anchor in it.

The friends (chiefly artists) who used to leave at 9:30, stay till
eleven; for an intelligent sailor is better company than two lawyers,
two bishops, three soldiers, and four writers of plays and tales, all
rolled together. And still he tells Christie he shall command a vessel
some day, and leads her to the most cheering inferences from the fact
of his prudence and his general width-awake; in particular he bids her
contrast with him the general fate of sailors, eaten up by land-sharks,
particularly of the female gender, whom he demonstrates to be the worst
enemies poor Jack has; he calls these sunken rocks, fire-ships and other
metaphors. He concludes thus: "You are all the lass I mean to have till
I'm a skipper, and then I'll bear up alongside some pretty, decent lass,
like yourself, Christie, and we'll sail in company all our lives, let
the wind blow high or low." Such is the gracious Flucker become in his
twentieth year. Last voyage, with Christie's aid, he produced a sextant
of his own, and "made it twelve o'clock" (with the sun's consent, I
hope), and the eyes of authority fell upon him. So, who knows? perhaps
he may one day, sail a ship; and, if he does, he will be prouder and
happier than if we made him monarch of the globe.

To return to our chiefs; Mrs. Gatty gave her formal consent to her son's
marriage with Christie Johnstone.