his beam-ends, joined a vessel bound for Calcutta. Arrived there, he took the post of chief mate on the good ship _Rose of Delhi_, Captain Tanerton, bound for England. * * * * * "What is this nonsense I hear, about your wanting to leave the sea, John?" The question, put in the Rector of Timberdale's repellent, chilly tone, more intensified when anything displeased him, brought only a smile to the pleasant face of his brother. Ever hopeful, sunny-tempered Jack, had reached the Rectory the previous night to make a short visit. They sat in the cheerful, bow-windowed room, the sun shining on Jack, as some days before it had shone on Grace; the Rector in his easy-chair at the fire. "Well, I suppose it is only what you say, Herbert--nonsense," answered Jack, who was playing with the little dog, Dash. "I should like to leave the sea well enough, but I don't see my way clear to do it at present." "_Why_ should you like to leave it?" "Alice is anxious that I should. She cannot always sail with me now; and there are the little ones to be seen to, you know, Herbert. Her mother is of course--well, very kind, and all that," went on Jack, after an imperceptible pause, "but Alice would prefer to train her children herself; and, to do that, she must remain permanently on shore. It would not be a pleasant life for us, Herbert, she on shore and I at sea." "Do you ever think of _duty_, John?" "Of duty? In what way?" "When a man has deliberately chosen his calling in life, and spent his first years in it, it is his duty to continue in that calling, and to make the best of it." "I suppose it is, in a general way," said Jack, all smiles and good-humour. "But--if I could get a living on shore, Herbert, I don't see but what my duty would lie in doing it as much as it now lies at sea." "_You_ may not see it, John. Chopping and changing often brings a man to poverty." "Oh, I'd take care, I hope, not to come to poverty. Down, Dash! Had I a farm of two or three hundred acres, I could make it answer well, if any man could. You know what a good farmer I was as a boy, Herbert--in practical knowledge, I mean--and how I loved it. I like the sea very well, but I _love_ farming. It was my born vocation." "I wish you'd not talk at random!" cried Herbert, fretfully. "Born vocation! You might just as well say you were born to be a mountebank! And where would you get the money to stock a farm of two or three hundred acres? You have put none by, I expect. You never could keep your pence in your pocket when a lad: they were thrown away right and left." "That's true," laughed Jack. "Other lads used to borrow them. True also that I have not put money by, Herbert. I have not been able to." "Of course you have not! It wouldn't be you if you had."