The lesson thus impressively taught was often read in my hearing; the application, in some cases, possibly, might be intended for myself. If one was seen wading, as it were, in mud with a pair of light shoes inadequate for defence either against cold or wet,—the admonition or remark was ever prompt, “it would be well to mind Fine Tommy.” If a fashionable “dandy” coat, in the days of dandyism, were worn in the severity of winter; if a dress insufficient for protection or warmth were, by either sex, observed to be worn; if the outside of a coach were mounted without an adequate covering, or a ride in an open carriage undertaken with only the habiliments usually worn in walking, the monition became natural, as the moral was apt,—“to remember Fine Tommy.” Whenever, too, I have myself remarked the analogous folly, every where, indeed, more or less observable, of risking health or abandoning personal comfort to _appearance_ or _fashion_, the moral of this very lesson has constantly been forced on my recollection, tempting to the relation of the story, in order to the more impressive effect of the warning,—“Remember Fine Tommy!” SECTION IV.—_Unfortunate Voyage, and Adventure in the Greenland Ices._ One of my Father’s voyages in the Dundee, and but one in the various ships he commanded for a period of upwards of a quarter of a century, commencing with the year 1792, proved a failure. The failure, however, arose from one of those incidental circumstances of climate, on the one part, and neglect of a principal officer, on the other part, which no human foresight could have anticipated, or human skill or diligence have remedied, after the perilous character of the ice-entanglement became clearly apparent.