“How good that porter looks!” observed Ben, after a pause, as he eyed a man near to him who was blowing off the froth from the top of the pot he held in his hand.

“Well, Ben, as I have bought the account of the battle for twopence, suppose I spend the rest of the money I intended to pay for it in a pot of porter, to drink the health of Nelson?”

“Ay, my boy, and of those who fought with him,” replied Ben; “your own father, Jack, whether he be dead or alive.”

I sighed at the idea of my father being dead, for I had a great regard for him, although I had not seen much of him.  The porter was brought, and after we had both drunk I recommenced reading.  Having concluded Admiral Nelson’s dispatch and the list of the ships taken, we then came to the loss in killed and wounded on board of the respective English ships.

“’Vanguard’—­thirty killed, seventy-five wounded; total, a hundred and five.”

“Yes, Jack, that was Nelson’s own ship; and he is always to be found where the shot fly thickest.”

“’Bellerophon’—­forty-nine killed, a hundred and forty-eight wounded; total, a hundred and ninety-seven.”

“Well, she was in the thick of it, anyhow!” observed Ben.

“’Majestic’—­fifty killed, a hundred and forty-three wounded; total, a hundred and ninety-three.”

“Why, she and the ‘Bellyruffron’ seem to have pretty well shared and shared alike.  You see, Jack, they led into the action, and had all the cream of the fire.”

I went on reading and Ben remarking, until I came to the “Audacious.”

“‘Audacious’”—­one killed, and thirty-five wounded; total, thirty-six.”

“Well now, Jack, that’s all in favor of your father being alive; ’cause why should he be the one killed, more than any one else?  I’d bet two pots of beer that he’s among the wounded—­but it’s impossible to say; for you see, Jack, although they give us the names of the officers killed and wounded, they always lump the petty officers and common seamen.  Well, here’s to your father’s health, Jack, anyhow; we shall soon hear something about him.”

“I hope so,” replied I, folding up the paper.

“And now, Jack,” continued Ben, handing me the pot, “don’t you feel how proud a thing it is to know how to read?  Here I am, you see, old enough almost to be your grandfather, and don’t I look like a helpless babby beside you? you can inform me of what is going on, but I cannot help myself.  Don’t I feel it, as I sit here, as if you were the man and I were the boy? indeed I do, Jack, and no mistake; but, arter all, there was no one to blame in my case; that’s some comfort.”

I certainly did acknowledge to myself how much I had gained by the tuition of Peter Anderson, and what advantage it was to me that I had been instructed; and I could not help for a moment feeling that I had the advantage over my good friend Ben.