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Set me down on any of their quays or foreshores, and I am home again.'

'I suppose you go great voyages,' said the Water Rat with growing interest.

'Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions running short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing with the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?'

'By no means,' said the Sea Rat frankly.

'Such a life as you describe would not suit me at all.

I'm in the coasting trade, and rarely out of sight of land.

It's the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as much as any seafaring.

O, those southern seaports! The smell of them, the riding-lights at night, the glamour!'

'Well, perhaps you have chosen the better way,' said the Water Rat, but rather doubtfully.

'Tell me something of your coasting, then, if you have a mind to, and what sort of harvest an animal of spirit might hope to bring home from it to warm his latter days with gallant memories by the fireside; for my life, I confess to you, feels to me to-day somewhat narrow and circumscribed.'

'My last voyage,' began the Sea Rat, 'that landed me eventually in this country, bound with high hopes for my inland farm, will serve as a good example of any of them, and, indeed, as an epitome of my highly-coloured life.

Family troubles, as usual, began it.

The domestic storm-cone was hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small trading vessel bound from Constantinople, by classic seas whose every wave throbs with a deathless memory, to the Grecian Islands and the Levant.

Those were golden days and balmy nights! In and out of harbour all the time-old friends everywhere-sleeping in some cool temple or ruined cistern during the heat of the day-feasting and song after sundown, under great stars set in a velvet sky! Thence we turned and coasted up the Adriatic, its shores swimming in an atmosphere of amber, rose, and aquamarine; we lay in wide land-locked harbours, we roamed through ancient and noble cities, until at last one morning, as the sun rose royally behind us, we rode into Venice down a path of gold.

O, Venice is a fine city, wherein a rat can wander at his ease and take his pleasure! Or, when weary of wandering, can sit at the edge of the Grand Canal at night, feasting with his friends, when the air is full of music and the sky full of stars, and the lights flash and shimmer on the polished steel prows of the swaying gondolas, packed so that you could walk across the canal on them from side to side! And then the food-do you like shellfish? Well, well, we won't linger over that now.'

He was silent for a time; and the Water Rat, silent too and enthralled, floated on dream-canals and heard a phantom song pealing high between vaporous grey wave-lapped walls.

'Southwards we sailed again at last,' continued the Sea Rat, 'coasting down the Italian shore, till finally we made Palermo, and there I quitted for a long, happy spell on shore.

I never stick too long to one ship; one gets narrow-minded and prejudiced.

Besides, Sicily is one of my happy hunting-grounds.

I know everybody there, and their ways just suit me.

I spent many jolly weeks in the island, staying with friends up country.

When I grew restless again I took advantage of a ship that was trading to Sardinia and Corsica; and very glad I was to feel the fresh breeze and the sea-spray in my face once more.'

But isn't it very hot and stuffy, down in the-hold, I think you call it?' asked the Water Rat.

The seafarer looked at him with the suspicion of a wink.

'I'm an old hand,' he remarked with much simplicity.

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