The captain, being unable to recall any shipper of the class alluded to by Fred, changed his course.

“’Tisn’t so much that,” said he; “it’s a question of reputation.  How would I feel to go ashore at Pittsburgh or Louisville or Cincinnati, and refuse to drink with anybody?  Why, ’twould ruin me.  It’s different with you who don’t have to meet anybody but religious old farmers.  Besides, you’ve just been married.”

“And you’ve been married for five years,” said Fred, with a sudden sense of help at hand.  “How do you suppose your wife feels?”

Captain Crayme’s jollity subsided a little, but with only a little hesitation he replied: 

“Oh! she’s used to it; she doesn’t mind it.”

“You’re the only person in town that thinks so, Sam,” said Fred.

Captain Crayme got up and paced his little stateroom two or three times, with a face full of uncertainty.  At last he replied: 

“Well, between old friends, Fred, I don’t think so very strongly myself.  Hang it!  I wish I’d been brought up a preacher, or something of the kind, so I wouldn’t have had business ruining my chances of being the right sort of a family man.  Emily don’t like my drinking, and I’ve promised to look up some other business; but ’tisn’t easy to get out of steamboating when you’ve got a good boat and a first-rate trade.  Once she felt so awfully about it that I did swear off—­don’t tell anybody, for God’s sake! but I did.  I had to look out for my character along the river, though; so I swore off on the sly, and played sick.  I’d give my orders to the mates and clerks from my bed in here, and then I’d lock myself in, and read novels and the Bible to keep from thinking.  ’Twas awful dry work all around; but ‘whole hog or none’ is my style, you know.  There was fun in it, though, to think of doing something that no other captain on the river ever did.  But thunder! by the time night came, I was so tired of loafing that I wrapped a blanket around my head and shoulders, like a Hoosier, sneaked out the outer door here, and walked the guards, between towns; but I was so frightened for fear some one would know me that the walk did me more harm than good.  And blue! why a whole cargo of indigo would have looked like a snowstorm alongside of my feelings the second day; ’pon my word, Fred, I caught myself crying in the afternoon, just before dark, and I couldn’t find out what for, either.  I tell you I was scared, and things got worse as time spun along; the dreams I had that night made me howl, and I felt worse yet when daylight came along again.  Toward the next night I was just afraid to go to sleep; so I made up my mind to get well, go on duty, and dodge everybody that it seemed I ought to drink with.  Why, the Lord bless your soul! the first time we shoved off from a town I walked up to the bar just as I always did after leaving towns; the barkeeper set out my particular bottle naturally enough, knowing nothing