“The Fateful”—“Fateful Argo,” to give the name in full—had been christened by Billy. It was neither more nor less than a large and strongly-built row-boat, which had been hauled up on the shore; and being old and leaky, had been abandoned there. It had become imbedded in the sand, and being protected from the wind by a dense clump of low-growing bushes, was a very pleasant resting-place for the romantic, in sunny winter weather. It has been sung that Venus sprang from the waves. The truth of the legend I can neither deny nor affirm; but it is certain that their gentle splashing had a strange intoxication for many a couple that ventured to take their seats in this “Fateful Argo.” Alice took her seat in the stern, and Charley (although there were several other seats in good repair) sat beside her. I think it will be allowed me that no book was ever freer than this from satirical reflections upon women (or, in fact, freer from reflections of every sort upon any and all subjects); but I am constrained to observe, just here, that it seems to me that they have, at times, a rather inconsequential way of talking. That is, you cannot always tell, from what they have just said, what is coming next. “I have asked you,” began Alice, “to come with me to this retired spot that I may have a talk with you. I have a favor to—Mr. Frobisher, you must be beside yourself! And the piazza full of people!” [Shades of Epaminondas! _A. Frobisher._] That’s what I complain of. When they begin a sentence, you never know how it is going to end. “On the contrary,—thank heaven!—I am beside you.” “But you won’t be beside me long, if you don’t behave yourself. Don’t,—oh, _don’t_! Are you _crazy_?” “Perfectly,—and glad of it,” replied Charley, with brazen resignation. “Well, then.” And with a supple grace disengaging herself from his proximity, so to speak, she whisked away to the seat in front. That’s the reason I always did love women. Their memories are so short. No matter how angry they may be, if you will watch them while they are scolding you, you will see that they are forgiving you as fast as they can. “You are perfectly outrageous!” said Alice; at the same time readjusting her collar,—and with both hands,—just to show how dreadfully provoked she was. “Outrageous? Presently you will be calling me Argo-naughty,” said Charley. [This is too bad! I never made one in my life. _Chs. F._] Alice had purposed looking indignant for two or three consecutive seconds, but surprised by this totally unexpected sally, she burst out laughing. She had opened her batteries on the enemy, but, by ceasing to fire, she had revealed the exhaustion of her ammunition; and he, so far from being stampeded, showed symptoms of an advance. As a prudent captain, all that was left her was to retire. She took the seat next the prow. The enemy seized the vacated position. “That seat is very rickety.” “So I perceive,” remarked the enemy, rising and advancing.