it is but the solitary exception which proves and enforces the rule.  Midshipmen have written ambitious verses about the sea; but by the time the young gentlemen were promoted to the ward-room they have dropped the habit or found other themes for their stanzas.  In truth, the stern manliness of his calling forbids the seaman to write poetry.  He acts it.  His is a profession which leaves no room for any assumed feeling or for any reflective tendencies.  His instincts are developed, rather than his reason.  He has no time to speculate.  He must be prepared to lay his hand on the right rope, let the night be the darkest that ever came down upon the waves.  He obeys orders, heedless of consequences; he issues commands amid the uproar and tumult of pressing emergencies.  There is no chance for quackery in his work.  The wind and the wave are infallible tests of all his knots and splices.  He cannot cheat them.  The gale and the lee-shore are not pictures, but fierce realities, with which he has to grapple for life or death.  The soldier and the fireman may pass for heroes upon an assumed stock of courage; but the seaman must be a brave man in his calling, or Nature steps in and brands him coward.  Therefore he cares little about the romance of his duties.  If you would win his interest and regard, it must be on the side of his personal and human sensibilities.  Cut off during his whole active life from any but the most partial sympathy with his kind, he yearns for the life of the shore, its social pleasures and its friendly greetings.  Captains, whose vessels have been made hells-afloat by their tyranny, have found abundant testimony in the courts of law to their gentle and humane deportment on land.  Therefore, when you would address seamen effectively, either in acts or words, let it be by no shallow mimicry of what you fancy to be their life afloat.  It will be at best but “shop” to them, and we all know how distasteful that is in the mouth of a stranger to our pursuits.  They laugh at your clumsy imitations, or are puzzled by your strange misconceptions.  It is painful to see the forlorn attempts which are made to raise the condition of this noble race of men, to read the sad nonsense that is perpetrated for their benefit.  If you wish really to benefit them, it must be by raising their characters as men; and to do this, you must address them as such, irrespectively of the technicalities of their calling.

THE KINLOCH ESTATE, AND HOW IT WAS SETTLED.

CHAPTER I.

“Mildred, my daughter, I am faint.  Run and get me a glass of cordial from the buffet.”

The girl looked at her father as he sat in his bamboo chair on the piazza, his pipe just let fall on the floor, and his face covered with a deadly pallor.  She ran for the cordial, and poured it out with a trembling hand.

“Shan’t I go for the doctor, father?” she asked.