"You know how to preach, Matt; but I don't want to sit under your preaching. Those fellows are going to have a good time; and I think they will enjoy it," added Tom pleasantly, as some of his old temptations came back to him. "Do you know those fellows, Matt?" "I know Spickles; but I never saw the others before, though I think they behave like gentlemen compared with their leader." "He is a jolly fellow," added Tom. "Spickles's father was formerly a wealthy man in the city, and his son stole a thousand dollars from him. Since that I have kept out of his way, and I will not associate with him." "What did he do with the money? Give it to the missionaries?" asked Tom; and his companions noticed that he talked a good deal worse than he meant sometimes, and could not entirely rid himself of his former ways of expressing himself. "He took a steamer to New Orleans, and spent his stolen money in dissipation. When it was all gone, he had to come home before the mast in a bark. He is a bad boy, and his father could not manage him. If he had been sent to the Beech Hill School, it would have made a man of him. I don't quite understand, though I can guess, how he can take such a trip as the one he is now making; for his father lost his money, failed, and is now at work as a clerk." "Perhaps some of the other fellows have rich fathers," suggested Ash Burton. "It may be so, but I don't believe it. The sons of rich fathers, when they want to go on a frolic, don't make such a fellow as Michael Angelo Spickles their leader," added Matt. "Is that his name?" asked Ash. "They say his mother don't like the name of Spickles, and gave him a high-sounding handle to it to smooth it off. I don't know any thing about it, Tom Topover; but if I were a betting man, I would wager two to one that Spickles stole the money which is used to pay the expenses of the La Motte," continued Matt impressively. "Then, again, perhaps he didn't," replied Tom. "I think he did; and he didn't steal it from his father this time, for Mr. Spickles did not have it. Now, Tom, whether he stole this money, or not, he will certainly come to grief. In a month, a year, or ten years, when you see him in the State prison, you will be glad you were not a member of the Nautifelers Club," said Matt, as he consulted the paper in his hand to recall the Greek word. "You don't know what is going to become of that fellow any more than you know what is going to become of me," added Tom. "Certainly I don't know; but when you see a young fellow like Spickles, drinking, dissipating, insulting a gentleman like Captain Gildrock, it is easy enough to see where he is coming out. I used to drink beer with Angy, as we used to call Spickles when he was a more decent fellow than he is now, and I know something about it." "Didn't you like it?" asked Tom.