That's a gratification, my hearty. Made three successful voyages, you see. This, our fourth one, is to be the last. Keep a sharp look ahead, and there's a future for you, too. Ah, there'll be a heap of happiness a'tween me and my old woman when this voyage is ended. A true wife at home, and a lovin' husband at sea--ah, my hearty, them's jewels!" Tite listened with surprise to the story of this strange and eccentric man. He had never heard either of his parents mention his name. He, however, regarded it as very fortunate that he should be on board a ship commanded by a captain who held his humble parents in such high regard. The jolly old sailor finished his story by enjoining Tite to keep what he had said a matter of confidence. He also made him third mate, to fill the place of the young man who fell from the fore-mast into the sea during the gale. "You shall take a hand at killing the first whale; shall command the larboard boat. And you shall never want a friend while Captain Price Bottom treads this quarter-deck," he concluded. Tite bowed, and thanked his benefactor again. He then proceeded to his duty, as the ship headed for Bahia, with a fair wind. CHAPTER XIV. THE COMING WINTER, AND A MERRY-MAKING. November was come now. The day I write of was damp and cheerless. Grey, vapory clouds swept over the Tappan Zee, and a sad, sighing wind tossed it into crests. A drizzling rain fell over Nyack, and the little town looked as if it had just taken a bath and gone to sleep for the night. The hills wore a cold and bleak look, the foliage had lost its bright, golden tints, and now looked faded and colorless. The leaves, too, were falling, and the naked trees seemed weeping and cold. Sheep browsed on the hill-sides, or nibbled coldly under the branches of sheltering trees. In the wet, dripping barn-yard cattle were seen huddled together under a lee, now seeking warmth in the fresh shocks, now proclaiming their troubles in subdued lowing. The very landscape seemed weeping and melancholy. Even the summer birds, whose songs give such a charm to the woods, were gone. And there was the loon upon the lake gabbling his welcome to the approaching winter. The rain, too, had filled the brooks, and their waters were gurgling down deep, shadowy dells, mingling their touching music with the sad, sighing wind. There were pleasant memories entwined in that departing summer; and it now seemed as if all nature was joining in a requiem to its fading beauties.