{"id":"01KG8AMFZ083447DK00KYQ57DM","cid":"bafkreibljg7t5tjmamg3x53rdh3gmiefadjxkmj3lithlp6uncworlokha","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":8806,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":8743,"text":"pleasure, and, as a general thing, conducted themselves with propriety.\r\nBut it is a sad thing to say, that, as for Lieutenant Mad Jack, he\r\nenjoyed himself so delightfully for three consecutive days in the town,\r\nthat, upon returning to the ship, he sent his card to the Surgeon, with\r\nhis compliments, begging him to drop into his state-room the first time\r\nhe happened to pass that way in the ward-room.\r\n\r\nBut one of our Surgeon’s mates, a young medico of fine family but\r\nslender fortune, must have created by far the strongest impression\r\namong the hidalgoes of Rio. He had read Don Quixote, and, instead of\r\ncuring him of his Quixotism, as it ought to have done, it only made him\r\nstill more Quixotic. Indeed, there are some natures concerning whose\r\nmoral maladies the grand maxim of Mr. Similia Similibus Curantur\r\nHahneman does not hold true, since, with them, _like cures_ not _like_,\r\nbut only aggravates _like_. Though, on the other hand, so incurable are\r\nthe moral maladies of such persons, that the antagonist maxim,\r\n_contraria contrariis curantar_, often proves equally false.\r\n\r\nOf a warm tropical day, this Surgeon’s mate must needs go ashore in his\r\nblue cloth boat-cloak, wearing it, with a gallant Spanish toss, over\r\nhis cavalier shoulder. By noon, he perspired very freely; but then his\r\ncloak attracted all eyes, and that was huge satisfaction. Nevertheless,\r\nhis being knock-kneed, and spavined of one leg, sorely impaired the\r\neffect of this hidalgo cloak, which, by-the-way, was some-what rusty in\r\nfront, where his chin rubbed against it, and a good deal bedraggled all\r\nover, from his having used it as a counterpane off Cape Horn.\r\n\r\nAs for the midshipmen, there is no knowing what their mammas would have\r\nsaid to their conduct in Rio. Three of them drank a good deal too much;\r\nand when they came on board, the Captain ordered them to be sewed up in\r\ntheir hammocks, to cut short their obstreperous capers till sober.\r\n\r\nThis shows how unwise it is to allow children yet in their teens to\r\nwander so far from home. It more especially illustrates the folly of\r\ngiving them long holidays in a foreign land, full of seductive\r\ndissipation. Port for men, claret for boys, cried Dr. Johnson. Even so,\r\nmen only should drink the strong drink of travel; boys should still be\r\nkept on milk and water at home. Middies! you may despise your mother’s\r\nleading-strings, but they are the _man-ropes_ my lads, by which many\r\nyoungsters have steadied the giddiness of youth, and saved themselves\r\nfrom lamentable falls. And middies! know this, that as infants, being\r\ntoo early put on their feet, grow up bandy-legged, and curtailed of\r\ntheir fair proportions, even so, my dear middies, does it morally prove\r\nwith some of you, who prematurely are sent off to sea.\r\n\r\nThese admonitions are solely addressed to the more diminutive class of\r\nmidshipmen—those under five feet high, and under seven stone in weight.\r\n\r\nTruly, the records of the steerages of men-of-war are full of most\r\nmelancholy examples of early dissipation, disease, disgrace, and death.\r\nAnswer, ye shades of fine boys, who in the soils of all climes, the\r\nround world over, far away sleep from your homes.\r\n\r\nMothers of men! If your hearts have been cast down when your boys have\r\nfallen in the way of temptations ashore, how much more bursting your\r\ngrief, did you know that those boys were far from your arms, cabined\r\nand cribbed in by all manner of iniquities. But this some of you cannot\r\nbelieve. It is, perhaps, well that it is so.\r\n\r\nBut hold them fast—all those who have not yet weighed their anchors for\r\nthe Navy-round and round, hitch over hitch, bind your leading-strings\r\non them, and clinching a ring-bolt into your chimmey-jam, moor your\r\nboys fast to that best of harbours, the hearth-stone.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJSTQZ16SAPC8V3NCS8M8","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMFZ62E23TX8Z4A9413EB","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMFZ3NEE8S5XWPTA8D28D","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:38.880Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:50.055Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}