"Peace, base calumniators," exclaimed Tom King, aroused from his toothpick reverie by these aspersions of the best part of creation. "Peace, I say. None shall dare abuse that dear devoted sex in the hearing of their champion, without pricking a lance with him in their behalf. What do you, either of you, who abuse woman in that wholesale style, know of her? Nothing--less than nothing; and yet you venture, upon your paltry experience, to lift up your voices and decry the sex. Now I _do_ know her; and upon my own experience avouch, that, as a sex, woman, compared with man, is as an angel to a devil. As a sex, woman is faithful, loving, self-sacrificing. _We_ 'tis that make her otherwise; _we_, selfish, exacting, neglectful men; we teach her indifference, and then blame her apt scholarship. We spoil our own hand, and then blame the cards. No abuse of women in my hearing. Give me a glass of grog, Dick. 'The sex!--three times three!'--and here's a song for you into the bargain." Saying which, in a mellow, plaintive tone, Tom gave the following: PLEDGE OF THE HIGHWAYMAN Come, fill up a bumper to Eve's fairest daughters, Who have lavished their smiles on the brave and the free; Toast the sweethearts of DUDLEY, HIND, WILMOT, and WATERS,[94] Whate'er their attraction, whate'er their degree. Pledge! pledge in a bumper, each kind-hearted maiden, Whose bright eyes were dimmed at the highwayman's fall; Who stood by the gallows with sorrow o'erladen, Bemoaning the fate of the gallant DU-VAL! Here's to each lovely lass chance of war bringeth near one, Whom, with manner impassioned, we tenderly stop; And to whom, like the lover addressing his dear one, In terms of entreaty _the question_ we pop. How oft, in such case, rosy lips have proved sweeter Than the rosiest book, bright eyes saved a bright ring; While that _one other_ kiss has brought off a _repeater_, And a bead as a _favor_--the _favorite_ string. With our hearts ready rifled, each pocket we rifle, With the pure flame of chivalry stirring our breasts; Life's risk for our _mistress's praise_ is a trifle; And each purse as a _trophy_ our _homage_ attests. Then toss off your glasses to all girls of spirit, Ne'er with names, or with number, your memories vex; Our toast, boys, embraces each woman of merit, And, for fear of omission, we'll drink the WHOLE SEX. "Well," replied Dick, replenishing King's rummer, while he laughed heartily at his ditty, "I shan't refuse your toast, though my heart don't respond to your sentiments. Ah, Tom! the sex you praise so much will, I fear, prove your undoing. Do as you please, but curse me if ever I pin my life to a petticoat. I'd as soon think of neglecting the four cautions." "The four cautions," said King; "what are they?" "Did you never hear them?" replied Dick. "Attend, then, and be edified." THE FOUR CAUTIONS