He is a mate of the blessed old-time kind; and goes gravely damning around, when there is work to the fore, in a way to mellow the ex-steamboatman's heart with sweet soft longings for the vanished days that shall come no more.

'GIT up there you! Going to be all day?
Why d'n't you SAY you was petrified in your hind legs, before you shipped!' He is a steady man with his crew; kind and just, but firm; so they like him, and stay with him.

He is still in the slouchy garb of the old generation of mates; but next trip the Anchor Line will have him in uniform--a natty blue naval uniform, with brass buttons, along with all the officers of the line--and then he will be a totally different style of scenery from what he is now.
Uniforms on the Mississippi! It beats all the other changes put together, for surprise.

Still, there is another surprise--that it was not made fifty years ago.

It is so manifestly sensible, that it might have been thought of earlier, one would suppose.