I told him that I could complain. "To whom?" he said. "You have no one to complain to--no friend in the place. Now let me advise you to do as I do. When you can't cure a thing, grin and bear it; but if you see your way out of a fix, then go tooth and nail at it, and don't let anything stop you till you're clear. That's my maxim, youngster; but there's no use kicking against the pricks--it wears out one's shoes, and hurts the feet into the bargain. Now, soon after I took my passage in this here _Black Swan_, I guessed I had made a mistake; but what would have been the use of my going to law about it? I knowed better. I should only have sent my last dollar to look after the many which have gone to prove I was first cousin to a set of people, who would all rather have heard my father was drowned years ago than have set eyes on me. I tell you, Peter, you must grin and bear it, as you'll have to do many things as you get through life." I found that my friend practised what he preached; for so completely were his finances exhausted by his law expenses, that he had to husband all his resources to enable him to return home. In board and lodging he was worse off than I was; and, as he said, he was accustomed to camp out at night, to save the expense of a bed. He used to amuse himself in the day by walking about to look out for a snug place to sleep in at night, either in the city or its neighbourhood, and he seldom occupied the same spot two nights running. He assured me, and I believed him, that it was far pleasanter than sleeping in the close atmosphere of a crowded room; and it reminded him faintly of his beloved prairies, on which he had spent the greater part of his life. The chief portion of every day, for a week before the ship was reported ready for sailing, I passed with my new-found friend; and, as may be supposed, I did not again offer my valuable services to the mate of the _Black Swan_, nor was any inquiry made after me by her worthy captain. CHAPTER FIVE.