remain under water as long as a famous Kanacka diver:  I rose just four seconds before him.  When I was thirteen I could cast a line, manage a spritsail, pull an oar or handle a tiller as well as any boy on the north coast of England.  John was equally fond of the water, but his constant habit of putting the heavy work on me prevented his becoming as good a practical sailor as I was.  No man can make a good sea-captain who has not had plenty of experience in splicing sheet-ropes and climbing shrouds.  In our vacations we had plenty of pocket-money and went about pretty much as we pleased; and we frequently ran down the coast to Liverpool on board some of the small vessels which sailed from our bay.  On these trips we often amused ourselves with the masters’ instruments, which were rough and simple enough.  John had a good weather-eye, and could take an observation as well as any old salt, but he never had patience to use a logarithm table, and I always did the calculations.  It was only amusement for me then, but served me many a good turn afterward.  Well, things went on in this way for several years, and meantime my home was not pleasant to me.  I grew restless and dissatisfied under the restraints and mortifications of my secondary position; and, besides, as the younger son I knew I should have to make my own way in the world.  Our mother had gone to her rest, John’s domineering ways had grown on him, and my father, absorbed in his parochial and literary work, and more wrapped up in his eldest son than ever, seemed to have no definite plans for my future.”

Uncle Joseph’s cigar had gone out, and he had not noticed it until now.  He struck a match and relit it, and smoked thoughtfully and in silence for several minutes.  The wind had fallen, and the rain, which had been driving against the windows, was now coming down heavily with a steady, monotonous splash.

“About this time an event took place which has left a lasting impression upon my life.  The old physician who had held the village practice for forty years died suddenly of apoplexy, and his successor was a gentleman of high culture—­an Oxford wrangler, it was said—­about forty years of age, with a daughter of sixteen, an only child.  Of course the first time I saw her at church I fell desperately in love:  boys always do that with a new face.  She was a sprightly girl, with soft blue eyes, dark hair, fair complexion, white teeth, a lithe figure and a smiling, roguish mouth.”

Uncle Joseph seemed to be talking to himself, not to me, and I thought he started when I exclaimed, “Why, Jane might have sat for that picture!  You describe her exactly as she was when I saw her last, just before she left home for St. Mary’s Hall.”

“So she might, Frank, but I was not thinking of her then.  The doctor’s daughter was not a bit romantic, and her name was just plain Ellen Jones.  But boys will be boys.  It was not a week before I found that John was as much in love as I was, and he was soon paying marked attentions to the young lady.  I knew at once, from long experience, that my chance was gone; and indeed it was only a boyish fancy with me, after all, for I was too young to think of marrying.