s."

"'Tis sad, sir, sad," growled brave little Captain Witherspoon.
"They've taken the wrong course for the country's good--some o' those
folks in Washington. When the worst of 'em have stuffed their own
pockets as full as they can get, p'r'aps they'll see what else can be
done, and all catch hold together and shore up the shipping int'rists.
I see every night, when I go after my paper the whole sidewalk full o'
louts that ought to be pushed off to sea with a good smart master;
they're going to the devil ashore, sir. Every way you can look at it,
shippin' 's a loss to us."

At this moment the shrill whistle of a locomotive sounded back of the
town, but the captains took no notice of it. Two idle boys suddenly
came scrambling up the broken landing-steps from the water, one of
them clutching a distressed puppy. Then another, who had stopped to
fasten the invisible boat underneath, joined them in haste, and all
three fled round the corner. The elderly seamen had watched them
severely.

"It used to cost but a ninepence to get a bar'l from Boston by sea,"
said Captain Crowe, in a melancholy tone; "and now it costs
twenty-five cents by the railroad, sir."

In reply Captain Witherspoon shook his head gloomily.

"You an' I never expected to see Longport harbor look like this,"
resumed Captain Crowe, giving the barren waters a long gaze, and then
leaning forward and pushing the pebbles about with his cane. "I don't
know's I ever saw things look so poor along these wharves as they do
to-day. I've seen six or seven large vessels at a time waitin' out in
the stream there until they could get up to the wharves. You could
stand ashore an' hear their masters rippin' an' swearin' aboard, an'
fur's you could see from here, either way, the masts and riggin'
looked like the woods in winter-time. There used to be somethin' doin'
in this place when we was young men, Cap'n Witherspoon."

"I feel it as much as anybody," acknowledged the captain. "Looks to me
very much as if there was a vessel comin' up, down there over
Dimmett's P'int; she may only be runnin' in closer 'n usual on this
light sou'easterly breeze; yes, I s'pose that 's all. What do you make
her out to be, sir?"

The old shipmasters bent their keen, far-sighted gaze seaward for a
moment. "She ain't comin' in; she's only one o' them great schooners
runnin' west'ard. I'd as soon put to sea under a Monday's
clothes-line, for my part," said Captain Crowe.

"Yes; give me