"My dear skipper," he howled at the top of his voice, "you surely don't call this a storm? The merest breeze, I assure you. I really can't be disturbed for such a trifle. If it begins to blow at all during the night let me know and I'll come up and take the matter in hand;" and without waiting for a reply he scrambled down from the bridge and made a dash for the seclusion of the state-room.
Next morning they were rolling in the swell off Marseilles, with the prestige of the British Navy, if possible, higher than ever.
"The Lord Mayor of Dublin has placed a room in the City Hall at the disposal of the Labour party for the reception of reputations."—Irish Paper.
A kindly thought. Reputations are so easily lost in Ireland.