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 ledgers; and it may have come to him suddenly that he had other work to do. At all events he left the real estate business as completely and energetically as he had entered it. He had gone as far as he could toward being a logical, traditional Bradley. Now he was going to be a Bradley of his own creation.

It was the sea that called him, among various thrilling summonses from the outside world. Not as a profession, though that may have suggested itself, too. But, somehow, the sea —

On a clipper just like that he sailed from Nova Scotia. It was in 1882, when sailing vessels were in their glory. He arrived in London after a good while, but with no intention of pausing there. He was restless. Some big change was passing within him. Where next could he go? What was the farthest place? The antipodes—Australia. Promptly he took another sailing vessel for Australia. It was the "Lammermoor," a three-master. He drew a picture of the ship, and sent it home. He drew many other pictures. For the first time, it would seem, he was having the leisure to develop as he might. And while the long, placid days succeeded each other, and lazy cloud-ranks marched by along the horizon, it was the art impulse that surged up in him most strongly.

He reached Melbourne somewhat tired of wandering. It was his plan to take the next ship for home. But owing to some chance he missed that ship, and found there would be no other for weeks. One of those