I was born thirty-five years ago, in a public house called the Church House, in the town of N----, in the county of M----. It was kept by my grandfather, native of Cornwall, a retired sea captain, whose pride it was, drunk or sober, to inform all strangers that he had been master of his own ship, the said ship being a small schooner. In those days there was a steam packet, called the _Welsh Prince_, trading regularly between N----and Bristol, and in the latter town we had relatives on my grandmother's side. The fact of the matter was that my grandmother belonged to Somerset, and she often paid a visit to three maiden sisters, first cousins of hers, living, I believe, near Glastonbury, who had a young relative that had gone on the stage, and was causing some stir under a different name from his own, which was Brodrib. My grandmother held very strong opinions about the stage, and when these first cousins met, no doubt the young man, in those early days, was most severely discussed, and, had he not been a blood relation, would have been considered a sinner too far advanced for prayer. My earliest recollection is of being taken as a small boy with an elder brother to Bristol on the _Welsh Prince_ by my grandfather. I believe the frequency of these trips was mainly owing to the friendship existing between the two captains, as my grandfather seldom left the bridge, taking a practical part in the navigation of the ship and channel--except at times to visit the saloon cabin for a little refreshment. On one trip we had a very stormy passage, and on that occasion the winds and the waves made such a fool of the _Welsh Prince_ that she--to use the feminine gender, as is the custom of every true mariner, of one of whom I am a proud descendant--often threatened to dive into the bowels of the deep for peace. It was on this occasion that my grandfather assisted the captain of the _Welsh Prince_ to such purpose that people aboard acclaimed him as the saviour of their lives, and blessed him for the safety of the ship. It is not therefore to be wondered at when the old man ashore, returning at midnight from this rough voyage with me and my brother, would frequently pause and startle the silent hour with a stentorian voice addressed to indifferent sleepers--"Do you know who I am? Captain Davies, master of his own ship." Whether the police were awed by this announcement, or knew him to be an honest, respectable man with a few idiosyncrasies, I cannot say; but it was apparent to me in those young days that they assisted him home with much gentleness, and he was passed on carefully from beat to beat, as though he were a case of new laid eggs.