"And now you knows how I am situated. Do, my dear Mrs. Shever, tell me what you think I ought to do; and if you knows a gal as will suit me, introduce me, and I'll be your everlasting debtor." The boatswain's widow was somewhat nonplussed by his obtuseness, but knowing it was "now or never," she motioned him to take a seat before her; then, averting her face, spoke as follows:-- "Je--hem! Mr. Thompson, I have long looked forward to this here day, and anticipated the pleasure of your society." (This was correctly delivered, all but the _here_, according to "The book of Etiquette for Modern society.") "I knowed" (here she forgot her text, but feeling equal to the occasion, spoke her own sentiments) "you were always a manly, beautiful-disposed, noble, generous, A 1, first-rate young feller, and I felt very much disgusted with some people when I found they didn't wait for you, and that it was throwing purl before swine for you to be constant to them." "You're werry good, marm." Jerry winced a little at the last part of her remark. "I thought, here is a generous heart wot will be chucked away on some good-for-nothing baggage as soon as he lands if I don't do my best for him." "How kind of you!" murmured Jerry, looking at the averted face with a somewhat astonished air. "Go on, marm; go on. I can bear it." "Well, my dear Je--Mr. Thompson, knowing, as I said before, that some one had; although I say it of my own sister, married a common carpenter, after she had been pertickler warned not to do so by--one who is worth a cart-load of sich--knowing all this, I felt for you, and determined to do everything in my power to make you happy on your return." "You're werry, werry kind, marm," mournfully observed her visitor. "Yes, and, my dear Jerry--Forgive me calling you so." "I forgive you. There, go on," cried the now wondering acting warrant, taking her hand by way of encouraging her to proceed. "Well, my dear Jerry, when I looked around me, I wondered where I could find a virtuous, good-looking girl, suitable to your mind--" "That's poetry, dear friend, ain't it?" put in her visitor. "I saw painted faces, false figgers, flaunting airs, brazen-nosed impudence, and, nothing but sham--all--everywhere." "There ain't much sham about you," admiringly observed Thompson, glancing at her tightly-fitting silk dress, which set off her buxom figure to great advantage. Mrs. Shever pretended not to hear this compliment, but continued--"Well, dear Jerry, I saw all this, and I said to myself, 'Now, I wonder if some good, kind, loving, devoted, amiable, not bad-looking, affectionate, well-to-do girl were to be willing--would he--make her a offer?'" At this juncture the face of Thompson, who now began to what is vulgarly termed "smell a rat," assumed a roguish expression, and, quietly, pushing his finger into her side, he laughingly observed, "I say, Missis S., you don't mean to say _you_ want to sacrifice yourself agin, do you?"