g-shops. In coorse, there's the big hotels; but I heerd you say to
Sloper that you was bound to do things cheap, bein' hard up."

"Never mind, my friend," said Miles quickly. "I will manage somehow; so
good-night, and many thanks to you for the interest you have taken in--"

"Avast, mate! there's no call to go into action in sitch a hurry. This
here _Sailors' Welcome_ opens the doors of its bar an' refreshment-room,
an' spreads its purvisions before all an' sundry as can afford to pay
its moderate demands. It's on'y the after-cabin you're not free to. So
you'll have a bit supper wi' me before you set sail on your night
cruise."

Being by that time rather hungry as well as fatigued, Miles agreed to
remain for supper. While they were engaged with it, he was greatly
impressed with the number of sailors and marines who passed into the
reading-room beyond the bar, or who sat down at the numerous tables
around to have a hearty supper, which they washed down with tea and
coffee instead of beer or gin--apparently with tremendous appetite and
much satisfaction.

"Look ye here," said Jack Molloy, rising when their "feed" was about
concluded, "I've no doubt they won't object to your taking a squint at
the readin'-room, though they won't let you use it." Following his
companion, Miles passed by a glass double door into an enormous
well-lighted, warm room, seventy feet long, and of proportionate width
and height, in which a goodly number of men of the sea were busy as
bees--some of them reading books or turning over illustrated papers and
magazines, others smoking their pipes, and enjoying themselves in
rocking-chairs in front of the glowing fire, chatting, laughing, and
yarning as free-and-easily as if in their native fo'c's'ls, while a few
were examining the pictures on the walls, or the large models of ships
which stood at one side of the room. At the upper end a full-sized
billiard-table afforded amusement to several players, and profound
interest to a number of spectators, who passed their comments on the
play with that off-hand freedom which seems to be a product of fresh
gales and salt-water. A door standing partly open at the upper end of
this apartment revealed a large hall, from which issued faintly the
sound of soft music.

"Ain't it snug? and there's no gamblin' agoin' on there," remarked
Molloy, as they returned to their table; "that's not allowed--nor
drinkin', nor card-playin', but that's all they putt a