I never saw Clarendon more confused than he was at this speech; yet he has so much pride himself, that he could not help liking the boy’s honest love of independence.  His curiosity was so much excited, that he prolonged the conversation, and discovered that David was the son of the captain of the Go-Ahead, the very schooner in which we are to sail to-morrow for Newfoundland.  It will he the fourth of July, and the sailors were at first averse to going out upon that day, but concluded to celebrate it on shore in the morning, and depart in the afternoon.  David is going to accompany his father on the trip, having studied a little too hard at school, and it being the custom here to intersperse study with seasons of labor.

“You see,” he said, “that I am rigged already sailor-fashion”; and he pointed to his wide trousers, round jacket, and tarpaulin.

“O brother! can’t I have just such clothes?” I asked.  “They would be so comfortable, and I should have no fears of hurting them, as I should these I have on.”

“You got yours for economy, did you not, boy?” said brother to David.

“Not altogether, Sir.  They are the only ones proper for fishing.  Of course, if you are going to work, you will get some of the same kind; for that finery of yours would be very much out of place.”

Finery!  Could you have heard David’s tone of contempt, and seen his glance at brother’s last Paris suit, you would have laughed as I did.

I think Clarendon is getting more patient already; for a few weeks since nothing could have saved a boy from a flogging that had dared to give him such a glance; but his good-sense is getting uppermost.  “Well, Master David,” he said, good-humoredly, “since you don’t like our clothes, you must come to-morrow to our lodgings, and show Pidgie and myself where to get such beautiful ones as yours.”

This morning, before we had half done breakfast, I heard a bright, pleasant voice asking of our host, in a free and easy way,—­“Captain Peck, is there considerable of a pretending chap here who’s going out fishing in our craft to-day?  When the salt water has washed some of his airs out of him he’ll be good for something; and his brother ain’t so bad now.”

You should have seen Clarendon taking as much of a glance at himself in the little wooden-framed looking-glass, opposite the breakfast-table, as the size of it would allow, when he heard this qualified compliment.

“A pretty way, that, of speaking of Clarendon Beverley!” he exclaimed, almost fiercely.  “These Yankees have no respect for any thing on earth, but their own boorish selves.”

“But he is only a little boy, about thirteen or fourteen, brother,” I said, coaxingly; “and that’s his way of praising.”  For I did not want to lose our new acquaintance.  “He can show us where to get our clothes, just as well as if he had better manners.”

The scene at the little shop where we went for our new clothes was comical, even to me, though I am used to brother’s ways; so I could not wonder that some sailors at the door laughed out.