<p><br/><br/><br/><br/> <br/><br/> <SPAN name="linkc21" id="linkc21"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 21 </h2>
<p><br/></p>
<h3> A Section in My Biography </h3>
<p><br/></p>
<p>IN due course I got my license. I was a pilot now, full fledged. I dropped
into casual employments; no misfortunes resulting, intermittent work gave
place to steady and protracted engagements. Time drifted smoothly and
prosperously on, and I supposed—and hoped—that I was going to
follow the river the rest of my days, and die at the wheel when my mission
was ended. But by and by the war came, commerce was suspended, my
occupation was gone.</p>
<p>I had to seek another livelihood. So I became a silver miner in Nevada;
next, a newspaper reporter; next, a gold miner, in California; next, a
reporter in San Francisco; next, a special correspondent in the Sandwich
Islands; next, a roving correspondent in Europe and the East; next, an
instructional torch-bearer on the lecture platform; and, finally, I became
a scribbler of books, and an immovable fixture among the other rocks of
New England.</p>
<p>In so few words have I disposed of the twenty-one slow-drifting years that
have come and gone since I last looked from the windows of a pilot-house.</p>
<p>Let us resume, now.</p>
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