THE earth is good and ploughed fields bring no danger: the sea is cruel and navigation is a risky business. I am right in my judgement for I have learned my lesson from experience. The other day when I was selling fish I listened to one of those pale cheeked fellows who lounge about in the Painted Porch with nothing on their feet, and I heard him recite a line of poetry which rebuked the folly of us seafarers. Pie said it was written by one Aratus, a weather expert, and, as far as I can remember, it went something like this. "One slender plank between yourself and doom." Let us be sensible then, wife, and even at this late hour escape from the near vicinity of death. We have our children to consider, and though we are too poor to have much to leave them, we can at least guarantee them this boon. They need never know of swelling waves and the dangers of the deep: they will get their livelihood by tilling the fields and enjoy a safe and peaceable existence.