if he
keeps his health, he can rayturn to th' grocery business, f'r he's a
jolly good fellow which nobody can deny.'

   "Ye can see this, Hinnissy, that yachtin' has become wan iv thl larned
pro-fissions. 'Tis that that got th' la-ad fr'm Boston into it. They's a
jolly Jack Tar f'r ye. In dhrawin' up a lease or framin' a bond, no more
gallant sailor rides th' waves thin hearty Jack Larsen iv th'
Amalgamated Copper Yacht Club. 'What ho?' says he. 'If we're goin' to
have a race,' he says, 'shiver me timbers if I don't look up th' law,'
he says. So he become a yachtsman. 'But,' says th' Noo York la-ads, thim
that has th' Cup on their mantel-piece, 'Ye can race on'y on two
conditions.' 'What ar-re they?' says Larsen. 'Th' first is that ye
become a mimber iv our club.' 'With pleasure,' says he. 'Ye can't,' says
they. 'An' havin' complied with this first condition, ye must give us
ye'er boat,' says they. 'We don't want it,' they says. 'Th' terms suit
me entirely,' says Cap. Larsen. 'I'm a simple sailor man an' I'll give
ye me boat undher th' following conditions,' he says. 'First, that ye
won't take it; second, that ye'll paint me name on th' side iv it in red
letters, three feet high; third, that ye'll inthra-jooce me to th'
Prince iv Wales; foorth, that I'll sail it mesilf. Nawthin',' he says,
'wud give me gr-reater pleasure thin to have me handsome an' expinsive
raft in th' hands iv men who I wud considher it an honor to know,' he
says. 'An' so,' he says, 'I'll on'y ask ye to sign a bond an' lave a
small security, say about five hundherd thousan' dollars, in me hands in
case anny paint shud be knocked off me boat," he says. 'Yachtin' is a
gintleman's spoort,' he says, 'an' in dalin' with gintlemen,' he says,
'ye can't be too careful,' he says."

   "What's Sir Lipton doin' all this time?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

   "He's preparin' his bond, makin' his will, an' goin' through th' other
lagal preliminaries iv th' race. He's built a boat too. Th' King of
England was aboord iv her, an' he was near killed, be havin' a mast fall
on him. Th' Lord knows how he escaped. A mass iv steel weighin' a
hundherd thousan' ton fell on his Majesty an' bounced off. Sir Lipton
felt pretty bad about it. He didn't mind losin' a mast or two, but he
didn't want annywan to know he had th' king aboord. 'Twud hurt business.
'Boys,' says he to th' rayporthers, 'th' King's on me yacht. D'ye hear
me? Th' King's on me yacht. But don't say annything about it. I don't

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