ich, according to my experience, was
sufficient to my uncle and such rough folk as dined with him. 'Twas no
cause for surprise to me, to whom the enigma had been familiar from
the beginning; but my tutor, come suddenly against the puzzle, was
nonplussed, small blame to him.

"Parson," says my uncle, "_you_--goes steerage!"

My tutor started, regarded my uncle with a little jerk of astonishment;
and his eyebrows went high--but still conveyed no more than polite
inquiry. "I beg your pardon?" he apologized.

"Steerage, parson!" my uncle repeated. "Steerage passage, sir, the
night!"

"Really!"

"'Tis the same as sayin'," I made haste to explain, "that you dines
along o' Uncle Nick at _his_ end."

The tutor was faintly amused.

"Steerage the night, parson; cabin the morrow," said my uncle. "Ye'll
live high, lad, when ye're put in the cabin. Lord love ye, parson! but
the feedin' there is fair scandalous. 'Twould never do t' have the
news of it go abroad. An' as for the liquor! why, parson," he
proceeded, tapping my tutor on the breast, to impress the amazing
disclosure, while we stood awkwardly, "Dannie haves a locker o' wine
as old as your grandmother, in this here very room, waitin' for un t'
grow up; an' he'll broach it, parson, like a gentleman--he'll broach
it for you, when you're moved aft. But bein' shipped from the morrow,
accordin' t' articles, signed, sealed, an' delivered," he added,
gravely, "'twouldn't be just quite right, accordin' t' the lay o'
fac's you're not in the way o' knowin', t' have ye feed along o'
Dannie the night. 'Twouldn't be right, 'twouldn't be honest, as I sees
it in the light o' them fac's; _not_," he repeated, in a whisper,
ghostly with the awe and mystery of it, so that the tutor stared
alarmed, "accordin' t' them damned remarkable fac's, as I _sees_ un!
But I've took ye in, parson--_I've_ took ye in!" he cried, with a
beaming welcome, to which my tutor instantly responded. "Ye'll find it
snug an' plenty in the steerage, an' no questions asked. No
questions," he repeated, with a wink of obscure meaning, "asked.
They's junk an' cabbage, lad, with plum-duff t' top off with, for a
bit of a treat, an' rum--why parson! as for the rum, 'tis as free as
water! Sit ye," says he, "an' fall to!" his face all broken into
smiles. "Fall to, parson, an' spare nothin'. Better the salt-junk o'
toil," he improvised, in bold imitation of the Scripture, to my
tutor's further astonishment, "than the ic