y, and an ancient and glorious one.
And you may have heard, too, of Sigurd, King of Norway, and how he
sailed thither with sixty ships, and how he and his men rode up through
streets all canopied in their honour with purple and gold; and how the
Emperor and Empress came down and banqueted with him on board his ship.
When Sigurd returned home, many of his Northmen remained behind and
entered the Emperor's body-guard, and my ancestor, a Norwegian born,
stayed behind too, with the ships that Sigurd gave the Emperor.
Seafarers we have ever been, and no wonder; as for me, the city of my
birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between there and the
London River. I know them all, and they know me. Set me down on any of
their quays or foreshores, and I am home again.'

'I suppose you go great voyages,' said the Water Rat with growing
interest. 'Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions
running short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing with
the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?'

'By no means,' said the Sea Rat frankly. 'Such a life as you describe
would not suit me at all. I'm in the coasting trade, and rarely out of
sight of land. It's the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as much
as any seafaring. O, those southern seaports! The smell of them, the
riding-lights at night, the glamour!'

'Well, perhaps you have chosen the better way,' said the Water Rat, but
rather doubtfully. 'Tell me something of your coasting, then, if you
have a mind to, and what sort of harvest an animal of spirit might hope
to bring home from it to warm his latter days with gallant memories by
the fireside; for my life, I confess to you, feels to me to-day somewhat
narrow and circumscribed.'

'My last voyage,' began the Sea Rat, 'that landed me eventually in this
country, bound with high hopes for my inland farm, will serve as a good
example of any of them, and, indeed, as an epitome of my highly-coloured
life. Family troubles, as usual, began it. The domestic storm-cone was
hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small trading vessel bound from
Constantinople, by classic seas whose every wave throbs with a deathless
memory, to the Grecian Islands and the Levant. Those were golden days
and balmy nights! In and out of harbour all the time--old friends
everywhere--sleeping in some cool temple or ruined cistern during the
heat of the day--feasting and song after sundown, under great stars
set in a velv