David will be a good man one of these days, and would be better now if
he had not the idea that there was something manly in being wicked. I am
so glad that I was not brought up to think the same, for I begin to see
how true it is, that, the older we grow, the more difficult it is for us
to change our course.
There is poor Moody Dick! I really believe he would like to be a better
man. They say that he is not more than twenty-five, but I thought that
he was over thirty, for his face is wrinkled already, and there are gray
hairs around his temples.
Yesterday, David and I were talking about our sisters. I told him all
about Nannie, and that I thought she was the prettiest girl in the whole
State of Virginia, and that was saying a great deal for her.
He allowed that this might be true, but he had a sister of his own who
was a match for her, and began describing her quite like a poet, and
then quoted some pretty lines from a piece addressed to a sister, by
Mr. Everett, I believe.
The words seemed to touch Moody Dick, who was pacing the deck near us,
for he stopped and listened to them with that same distressed expression
of countenance which I had noticed before, and when they were finished
he said, half unconsciously,--"A sister! I have a sister. There is none
like her."
"Have you seen her lately?" I asked. "It must be hard to be so much away
from her."
"I have not seen her for many years; but what is that to you?" he
replied, almost angrily.
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