"Then by all that's glorious I'll flog it out of you!" "I humbly hopes not, sir. I am sure your honour won't flog an old seaman who has fought with Howe and Nelson, and who was wounded in the sarvice before your honour was born; you won't flog him, sir, only because he can't break his oath." "So you have sworn not to divulge it, hey?" "Ah, sir: if I might be so bold as to say so, your honour's a witch!" "Take care of yourself, Joseph Grummet; I do advise you to take care of yourself. Folly is a great betrayer of secrets, Joseph. Cunning may milk cows without discovery: however, I will never punish without proof. How many bottles of this excellent milk have you yet left?"--"Eight or ten, sir, more or less, according to sarcumstances." "Well! I will give you a dollar a-piece for all you have." At this proposition Joseph Grummet shuffled about, not at all at his ease, now looking very sagacious, now very foolish, till, at last, he brought down his features to express the most deprecating humility of which their iron texture was capable, and he then whined forth, "I would not insult you, sir, by treating you all as one as a midshipman. No, your honour: I knows the respect that's due to you,--I couldn't think of letting you, sir, have a bottle under three dollars--it wouldn't be at all respectful like." "Grummet," said Captain Fitzalban, "you are not only a thorough seaman, but a thorough knave. Now, have you the conscience to make me pay three dollars a bottle for my own milk?"--"Ah, sir, you don't know how much the secret has cost me." "Nor do you know how dearly it may cost you yet." Joseph Grommet then brought into the cabin his remaining stock in trade, which, instead of eight or ten, was found to consist only of two bottles. The captain, though with evident chagrin, paid for them honourably; and whilst the milkman _pro temp._ was knotting up the six dollars in the tie of the handkerchief about his neck, the skipper said to him, "Now, my man, since we part such good friends, tell me your candid opinion concerning this cow of mine?"--"Why, sir, I thinks as how it's the good people as milks her." "The good people! who the devil are they?"--"The fairies, your honour." "And what do they do with it?"--"Very few can tell, your honour; but those who gets it are always desarving folks." "Such as old wounded seamen, and captains of the waist especially. Well, go along to your duty. Look out! _cats_ love milk." So Joseph Grummet went forth from the cabin shrugging up his shoulders, with an ominous presentiment of scratches upon them. The captain, the Honourable Augustus Fitzroy Fitzalban, gave the marine officer orders to place a sentry night and day over his cow, and then dismissed his guests.