_us_," said the Water Rat, "nor yet a farmer; nor
even, I should judge, of this country."

"Right," replied the stranger. "I'm a seafaring rat, I am, and the
port I originally hail from is Constantinople, though I'm a sort of a
foreigner there too, in a manner of speaking. You will have heard of
Constantinople, friend? A fair city 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 se