"What was it? What was it?" I said, turning my scared face on Mr. Burke. "What kind of young sea-devil is this?" He laughed, and laid down the net he had just taken up. "You pulled too quick," says he. "Crabs are like women." "Like women," I shrieked. "What, those horrid things? Sir, I thank you!" My voice shook so I could hardly get the words out with proper irony. A generous rage in behalf of my sex possessed me. "You did not hear me out," says he, pleasant as a sweet apple. "I was going to say crabs were like women in this respect. They must be led along, enticed, persuaded up to the bait." "Oh!" says I, "that is a sentiment I can appreciate, but the comparison is dreadful." "There is hardly anything in nature which would not be dreadful compared to some females that I know of," says he. I laid one hand on my bosom and bowed, but the next instant I felt one of those scraggly fiends pulling at my line, and I drew it softly in, hand-over-hand. Oh, how the beastly thing crept and crawled, and spread its scraggles as it nibbled and rose with the bait! I declare it made the flesh creep on my bones. "That's right, draw gently--lure him up. Ho!" As he spoke Mr. Burke just slid his net under the varmint, and flashed him up into the air, bait and all. Sisters, there is no use in talking; if these creatures they call crabs ain't great salt-sea spiders, no such animals exist; and eels ain't fish, that's all. Oh, I wish you could see them crawl up through the sea-grass and spread themselves. I declare it is just awful. Well, down went this crab--which they all gloried in, being a great big gridiron of a fellow--into a hole in one end of the boat, and out went my bait after another. At one great pull I brought up two wapping big fellows at a time, and trolled them on while Mr. Burke scooped them up. Chasing dragon flies in the old times was nothing to it. E. E. was busy as a bee on her side of the boat, Dempster ladled the animals up for her, till we had a couple of dozen trying to creep away, and fighting each other like chickens in a coop. By this time I could see that E. E., like a good many other people I could mention, was getting sort of restless for other attentions than those her husband could give. She kept casting side-glances at Mr. Burke, and at last says she to Dempster: "Dempster, it isn't expected that a man should always be a-hanging about his wife. It's time for you to do some netting for Phœmie." E. E. said this almost in a whisper, but I heard it, and all the temper in me riled up to my throat. Sisters, this married woman was just dying to change off her husband for the beau that was devoting all his energies to me. I felt that the crisis had come that self-interest and a high moral standard demanded that I should keep this man from the lure of a married woman. I owed it to myself, to Dempster, and, above all, to the cause of morality, to hold that man firmly to his post.