by the fires of the low factory chimneys and furnaces.  People who work on crowded waterways seem to acquire an extraordinary proficiency in the art of abuse, and in the said art a keelman is much superior to the Thames bargeman.  His collection of epithets is large, and, since he is combative by nature, he engages freely in the war of words when engagements at close quarters are impracticable.  He is no respecter of persons.  The most dignified captain that ever stood on the deck of a clipper is not safe from his criticism, and even her Majesty’s uniform is not sacred in his eyes.  A keel once drifted against the bow of a man-of-war, and the first lieutenant of the vessel inquired, “Do you know the consequences of damaging one of her Majesty’s ships?” The keelman was unprepared with an answer to this problem, but with characteristic flippancy he inquired, “Div ye knaw the conseekue of a keel losin’ her tide?” The keelman’s ignorance of all objects not to be seen on the river is really strange.  Two worthies wanted to go on board a brig called the “Swan.”  The vessel had a figure-head representing the bird after which she was named, so the keelmen hailed in the following terms, “Like-a-goose-and-not-a-goose, ahoy!” They were much disappointed by the inattention of the crew.  The keelman is religious in his way, but his ideas lack lucidity.  Two friends had left their keel aground up the river and were walking across a field, when they were chased by a savage bull.  They fled to a tree, and the fleeter-footed man got to the first fork.  The second had swarmed a fair distance up the trunk, when the bull arrived and began butting with such vigour that the tree was shaken.  The climber could not get up further; so his friend, seeing the imminent danger, said, “Canst thou pray, Geordie?” The panting unfortunate answered, “Yes.”  Whereupon his mate said, “Gan on then, for he’ll have thee in a minute.”  The bull kept on pushing the tree; so the keelman tried a totally irrelevant supplication.  He said, “For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful.”  Teasing urchins sometimes shout after the keelman, “Who jumped on the grindstone?” and this query never fails to rouse the worst wrath in the most sedate; for it touches a very sore point.  Two men were caught by a heavy freshet and driven over the bar.  The legend declares that one of these mariners saw, in the dusk, a hoop floating by.  The hoop was full of foam; and with swift intuition the keelman said, “We’re saved; here’s a grindstone swimming!” He followed up his discovery by jumping on to the grindstone—­with most unsatisfactory results.  His error has led to much loss of temper among his tribe.