mother-in-law--shrieking out to a friend who happened to be spouting some lines from Tennyson’s _Ulysses_:--“By George! Warrington, I have no doubt that when the young syrens set their green caps at the old Greek captain and his crew, waving and beckoning him with their white arms and glancing smiles, and wheedling him with their sweetest pipes--I make no doubt, sir, that _the mother syrens_ were behind the rocks (with their dyed fronts and cheeks painted, so as to resist water), and calling out--‘Now, Halcyone, my child, that air from the Pirata! Now, Glaukopis, dear, look well at that old gentleman at the helm! Bathykolpos, love, there’s a young sailor on the maintop, who will tumble right down into your lap if you beckon him!’ And so on--and so on.” And I laughed a wild shriek of despair. For I, too, have been on the dangerous island, and come away thence, mad, furious, wanting a strait-waistcoat. And so, when a white-armed syren, named Glorvina, was bedevilling _me_ with her all too tempting ogling and singing, I did not see at the time, but _now_ I know, that her artful mother was egging that artful child on. How when the captain died, bailiffs and executions took possession of his premises, I have told in a previous page, nor do I care to enlarge much upon the odious theme. I think the bailiffs were on the premises before Prior’s exit: but he did not know of their presence. If I had to buy them out, ’twas no great matter: only I say it _was_ hard of Mrs. Prior to represent me in the character of Shylock to the Master of Boniface. Well--well! I suppose there are other gentlemen besides Mr. Charles Batchelor who have been misrepresented in this life. Sargent and I made up matters afterwards, and Miss Bessy was the cause of our coming together again. “Upon my word, my dear Batchelor,” says he one Christmas, when I went up to the old college, “I did not know how much my--ahem!--my family was obliged to you! My--ahem!--niece, Miss Prior, has informed me of various acts of--ahem!--generosity which you showed to my poor sister, and her still more wretched husband. You got my second--ahem!--nephew--pardon me if I forget his Christian name--into the what-d’you-call’em--Bluecoat school; you have been, on various occasions, of considerable pecuniary service to my sister’s family. A man need not take high university honours to have a good--ahem!--heart; and, upon my word, Batchelor, I and my--ahem!--wife, are sincerely obliged to you!” “I tell you what, Master,” said I, “there _is_ a point upon which you ought really to be obliged to me, and in which I have been the means of putting money into your pocket too.” “I confess I fail to comprehend you,” says the Master, with his grandest air. “I have got you and Mrs. Sargent a very good governess for your children, at the very smallest remuneration,” says I. “Do you know the charges that unhappy sister of mine and her family have put me to already?” says the Master, turning as red as his hood.