“Very likely. Your mother was bright and animated when I married her, but she broke down under the manifold duties and engagements of a minister’s wife.” “That is true. Poor mother!” Guy sighed, and his bright face looked sorrowful, for it was only a twelvemonth since his mother was laid away in the little graveyard at Bayport. “You look very much like your uncle George, your mother’s brother, as he was at your age.” “He became a sailor?” “Yes. He had an extraordinary love for the sea. If he had been content to live on land and follow some mercantile business, he would, in all probability, be living to-day.” “How did he die?” “He took a fever at some infected port, and died on shipboard. The poor fellow was still a comparatively young man, little more than thirty, and it seemed sad that he should be cut off at such an early age.” “Was his body brought home?” “No. Sailors are superstitious, and they don’t like to sail in a ship that has a dead body on board. So poor George was sewed up in a sack, and committed to the ocean depths. His chest was sent to us, and is stored in the attic.” “Have you ever opened it?” “Yes, I opened it, but didn’t examine the contents. Probably there was nothing except a sailor’s plain outfit. As to money, George was not a man to save anything. He was extravagant and prodigal, like most of his class.” “Was he a common sailor?” “No; he was second mate, and received fair wages. He did not have your education, but had good native talent, but nothing could divert him from his plan of going to sea.” “Well, father, I suppose there must be sailors. You would hardly want everybody to go to college?” “No, Guy.” “Even if they were qualified.” “Still, I should not care to have my son a sailor.” “I don’t care to be one, father, but I own I should like to take a single voyage--a good long one--so as to see a little of the world. I think, after that, I should be more content to settle down to some business on shore. By the way, father, is there any objection to my examining the contents of Uncle George’s chest?” “I have no objection, Guy; but I think it will hardly repay you for the time.” “My time isn’t of very much importance just now. Somehow I have a great desire to see if I can find anything that will throw light on my uncle’s life and character.” “Very well, Guy; do as you like. And now, I must get to work on my sermon for next Sunday. It is Friday evening, and I must make progress, as I may have one of my bad headaches to-morrow.” “Can I help you, father?” asked Guy, with a humorous smile. Mr. Fenwick smiled, too. Though so different in temperament, he was really fond and proud of his lively son. “I hardly think your additions would be for the edification of my people,” he said. “Perhaps they might suit some of the young folks,” suggested Guy.