swagger, as he rose and approached the group of boys.

"He'll niver bate ye, Martin, avic, as long as there's two timbers of ye
houldin' togither."

The seaman patted Martin on the head as he spoke; and, turning to Bob
Croaker, continued: "Ye ought to be proud, ye spalpeen, o' bein' wopped
by sich a young hero as this. Come here and shake hands with him: d'ye
hear? Troth an' it's besmearin' ye with too much honour that same. There,
that'll do. Don't say ye're sorry now, for it's lies ye'd be tellin' if
ye did. Come along, Martin, an' I'll convarse with ye as ye go home.
Ye'll be a man yet, as sure as my name is Barney O'Flannagan."

Martin took the white kitten in his arms and thrust its wet little body
into his equally wet bosom, where the warmth began soon to exercise a
soothing influence on the kitten's depressed spirits, so that, ere long,
it began to purr. He then walked with the sailor towards the village,
with his face black and blue, and swelled and covered with blood, while
Bob Croaker and his companions returned to the school.

The distance to Martin's residence was not great, but it was sufficient
to enable the voluble Irishman to recount a series of the most wonderful
adventures and stories of foreign lands, that set Martin's heart on fire
with desire to go to sea,--a desire which was by no means new to him, and
which recurred violently every time he paid a visit to the small sea-port
of Bilton, which lay about five miles to the southward of his native
village. Moreover, Barney suggested that it was time Martin should be
doing for himself (he was now ten years old), and said that if he would
join his ship, he could get him a berth, for he was much in want of an
active lad to help him with the coppers. But Martin Rattler sighed