"Yes, yes, I recollect now--it was the Dutch skipper. There's murder in that bill, Peter: it was things I supplied to him just before he sailed; and an old man was passenger in the cabin: he was a very rich man, although he pretended to be poor. He was a diamond merchant, they say; and as soon as they were at sea, the Dutch captain murdered him in the night, and threw him overboard out of the cabin-window; but one of the sailors saw the deed done, and the captain was taken up at Amsterdam, and had his head cut off. The crew told us when the galliot came back with a new captain. So the Dutch skipper paid the forfeit of his crime; he paid my bill, too, that's certain. Oh, deary me!" continued the old lady, turning to another page. "I shan't forget this in a hurry. I never see poor Nancy now without recollecting it. Look, Peter; I know the sum--8 pounds, 4 shillings 6 pence--exactly: it was the things taken up when Tom Freelove married Nancy,--it was the wedding dinner and supper." "What, Nancy who was here just now?" "Yes, that Nancy; and a sweet, modest young creature she was then, and had been well brought up too; she could read and write beautifully, and subscribed to a circulating library, they say. She was the daughter of a baker in this town. I recollect it well: such a fine day it was when they went to church, she looking so handsome in her new ribbons and smart dress, and he such a fine-looking young man. I never seed such a handsome young couple; but he was a bad one, and so it all ended in misery." "Tell me how," said Joey. "I'll tell all you ought to know, boy; you are too young to be told all the wickedness of this world. Her husband treated her very ill; before he had been married a month he left her, and went about with other people, and was always drunk, and she became jealous and distracted, and he beat her cruelly, and deserted her; and then, to comfort her, people would persuade her to keep her spirits up, and gave her something to drink, and by degrees she became fond of it. Her husband was killed by a fall from the mast-head; and she loved him still and took more to liquor, and that was her ruin. She don't drink now, because she don't feel as she used to do; she cares about nothing; she is much to be pitied, poor thing, for she is still young, and very pretty. It's only four years ago when I saw her come out of church, and thought what a happy couple they would be." "Where are her father and mother?" "Both dead. Don't let's talk about it any more. It's bad enough when a man drinks; but if a woman takes to it, it is all over with her; but some people's feelings are so strong, that they fly to it directly to drown care and misery. Put up the book, Peter; I can't look at it any more to-night; we'll go to bed."