[168] From having been myself trained in the forecastle of a ship, I am familiar with the character and habits of sailors at sea. Though I have found among them some worthless characters, as may be found in all other branches of trade, and a few scheming and clever but bad men, who were the leaders in all mischief, known frequently as “sea lawyers,” the sailor at sea is usually an industrious, thrifty, and, I may add, a sober man. You will find him in the “dog watches,” or during the Saturday-afternoon holidays, making, mending, or washing his clothes; his trousers, his chief garment, are cut out from a roll of canvas stretched on deck, by means of his jack knife, and usually consist of only two pieces ingeniously stitched together; being, consequently, too flat behind, but having the highly-approved and familiar straight legs. He takes a particular interest in his sea-chest and its contents, and is often to be found arranging them and seeing that they are all in good order. As he approaches home, after a long voyage, you may see him figuring with a bit of chalk on the lid of his chest the amount of wages he will have to receive, and frequently hear him relating to his shipmates how he intends to dispose of them, and his mental disposition of them is usually wise and generous. But, as soon as he goes on shore, his character seems to change, and there he too frequently throws his hard-earned wages away in drink, folly, and vice. I had, when a youth, seen something of the sailor in his usual rendezvous on shore as well as at sea, but nothing good or evil that I remember worthy of note. Therefore, when changes relating to his condition and welfare were contemplated, and when, as a member of the House of Commons, it was likely that I should be expected to aid in effecting those changes, I resolved to see more of Jack on shore than I had ever done before. With that object, I frequently dressed in the rough garb of a coasting skipper or mate. I might have saved myself the trouble of changing my usual attire, for few knew me then in person, and, at best, I never looked better than the character I assumed. Thus attired, I made frequent nightly visits to the public-houses and dancing saloons in Ratcliffe Highway, and in the vicinity of the London and St. Katherine’s Docks, the usual haunts of sailors and of their varied and very questionable “friends.” With my pipe and pint of beer, I sat often for hours among them, and thoroughly made myself master of “Jack on shore” and of his depraved companions. Poor fellow! he was, so long as his money lasted, the victim of them all. Sometimes the whole of his earnings were lost or stolen from him in the first night’s debauch. As you entered these gaudy but wretched saloons, you could at once distinguish in the throng the sailor who had just come on shore, and the sailor out-of-elbows in search of another ship. I shall not attempt to describe these places, of which there are still too many