scandalously taught, "by
mistake!"

'Twas my uncle's sad habit thus to solve his ethical difficulties. To
a gigantic, thumb-worn Bible he would turn, the which, having sought
with unsuccess until his temper was hot, he would fling back to its
place, growling: "Them ol' prophets was dunderheads, anyhow; they left
out more'n they put in. Why, Dannie," in vast disgust, "you don't find
the mention of barratry from jib-boom t' taffrail! An' you mean t'
set there an' tell me them prophets didn't make no mistake? No, sir! I
'low they was well rope's-ended for neglect o' dooty when the Skipper
cotched un in the other Harbor." But if by chance, in his impatient
haste, he stumbled upon some confirmation of his own philosophy, he
would crow: "There you got it, Dannie! Right under the thumb o' me!
Them ol' bullies was wise as owls." 'Twas largely a matter of words,
no doubt (my uncle being self-taught in all things); and 'tis possible
that the virtue of standing by, indirectly commended, to be sure, is
not specifically and in terms enjoined upon the righteous. However--

"Come, now!" says my uncle; "would you say that ol' Nicholas Top was
_famous_ for standin' by?"

'Twas hard to remember the long response. "Well," I must begin, in a
doubtful drawl, every word and changing inflection his own, as I had
been taught, "I wouldn't go _quite_ t' the length o' that. Ol'
Nicholas Top wouldn't claim it hisself. Ol' Nicholas Top on'y claims
that he's _good_ at standin' by. His cronies do 'low that he can't be
beat at it by ar a man in Newf'un'land; but Nicholas wouldn't go t'
the length o' _sayin'_ so hisself. 'Ol' Nick,' says they, 'would stand
by if the ship was skippered by the devil and inbound on a fiery wind
t' the tickle t' hell. Whatever Nick says he'll _do_,' says they, 'is
all the same as _did_; an' if he says he'll stand by, he'll stick,
blow high or blow low, fog, ice, or reefs. "Be jiggered t' port an'
weather!" says he.'[1] But sure," I must conclude, "ol' Nicholas
wouldn't say so hisself. An' so I wouldn't go t' the length o' holdin'
that he was famous for standin' by. Take it by an' all, if I was
wantin' sea room, I'd stick t' _well knowed_ an' be done with it."

"Co'-rect!" says my uncle, with a smack of satisfaction. "You got that
long one right, Dannie. An' now, lad," says he, his voice turning soft
and genuine in feeling, "what's the ol' sailorman tryin' t' make out
o' _you_?"

"A gentleman."

"An' why?"

Then t