holds, let us stand on. We are not likely to fall in with an enemy. If
we see a stranger which looks suspicious, we'll douse sail, and let her
pass by. The weather, too, promises to be fine. Why think of evils
which may never occur?"

Perhaps La Motte and I did not resist as much as we might have done. At
all events, we yielded to the wishes of the rest, and stood on. The day
passed away pleasantly enough. The sun came out and shone brightly, and
for the time of the year it was tolerably warm; so that we all kept our
spirits up, and, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune, did not
think of coming disaster.

As is usual on such occasions, we soon got to telling the various
adventures we had met with in our past lives. I have not here time to
describe them, but I remember one remarkable thing was, that nearly all
had been wrecked just as often as I had. Instead of looking at such
disasters as punishments, they all agreed that they ought to consider
themselves very fortunate in escaping, instead of losing their lives, as
had so many of their shipmates. I could not help thinking the same
thing, and I now began to be more convinced than ever that I was
mistaken in my youthful idea that a curse hung over me. When I came to
consider the matter, I perceived that I had brought on myself nearly all
the misfortunes which had happened to me, or they could be very clearly
traced to ordinary causes, which had affected in most instances others
as well as myself. I talked the subject over with La Motte, who was a
right-thinking man, and not without some wit.

"I perfectly agree with you, Weatherhelm," said he. "It is in my
opinion, far better to be wrecked a dozen times than drowned once,
especially if you escape the twelfth time, and live happy ever
afterwards. I hope sincerely that your disasters have now come to an
end. You seem to have suffered a good many since we parted."

"I have enjoyed some very great blessings, too," I answered. "I am sure
I ought not to complain."

"That is just the sentiment I like to hear," he observed. "People think
that they are to have all the plums and suet, and none of the hard
dough, which makes up the pudding of life. We ought to be contented to
take the two together--the sweets and the bitter, the rough and the
smooth. That is what I have done, and I have saved myself a great deal
of disappointment by not expecting more than I was likely to get."

I have often thoug