As her son read this, Nelly thought that it was nonsense, after all, to say that a squint first-foot was unlucky. "Read on, George," said his father, "and tak heed to what your uncle says." The boy resumed the letter, and again read-- "Now, as my nevy is to be my heir, I think it my duty to lay down a sort of chart--or call it what you like--by which I would wish him to shape his future conduct. I am glad to hear that his head is of the right sort; but let us have none of your fiddle ornaments about it. A lofty prow is not always the best for a storm, and looks bad enough with a Dutch stern. Beware, also, how you let him to sea before his vessel is fairly rigged, caulked, and waterproof--or, if you do, then look out for his growing top-heavy, and capsising in the turn of a handspike. If you set him off with a bare allowance of ballast, and without a single letter of credit--do you expect him to bring home a cargo? It is stuff, Dick--arrant stuff! All your boy exhibitions are downright swindling. Prodigies, forsooth!--why, parrots can speak, and jackdaws chatter. Or, to render myself intelligible to your agricultural senses, a tree blossoms in its first year, and a selfish, deluded idiot plucks it up, exhibits it in the market-place--the bud perishes, and the tree withers, while gaping lubbers wonder that it did not bear fruit! Now, Dick, this is always the case with all you fast-sailing miracles. Give a boy the helm, and get him to the drudgery of the cabin again, if you can.