my breath away. "Don't tell old leather-chops, will you, and I _shall_
love you so."

"Who is old leather-chops--your father?"

"Dear me, no; never mind him. I mean your messmate, Mr Pridhomme."

"I'm stepping into life," thought I, as I went downstairs, "and with no
measured strides either."

"What do you think of Jemima?" said Mr Pridhomme, as we walked
arm-in-arm towards the ramparts.

"Pretty."

"Pretty!--why she's an angel! If there was ever an angel on earth, it
is Jemima Tapes. But what is mere beauty? Nothing compared to
sincerity and innocence--she is all innocence and sincerity."

"I am glad that you believe so."

"Believe so--why, look at her! She is all innocence. She won't let her
father kiss her."

"Why?"

"She says it is so indelicate."

"How does she know what is, or what is not, indelicate?"

"Damn it, younker, you'd provoke a saint. She assures me when she is
forced to shake hands with a grown-up man, that it actually gives her a
cold shudder all over. I don't think that she ever kissed anybody but
her mother, and that was years ago."

"Perhaps she does not know how."

"I'm sure she don't. If I had a fortune, I'd marry her tomorrow, only
I'm afraid she's too modest."

"Your fear is very commendable. Are the ladies at Chatham so remarkable
for modesty?"

"No; and that's what makes Jemima so singular."

I like to make people happy, if they are not so; and if they are, even
though that happiness may be the creation of a delusion, I like to leave
them so. I, therefore, encouraged Mr Pridhomme to pour all his
raptures into, what he thought, an approving ear, and Jemima was the
theme, until he left me at the door of the hotel at which I was to dine
with Captain Reud. Whatever the reader may think of Jemima, I was, at
this period, perfectly innocent myself, though not wholly ignorant. I
should have deemed Miss Jemima's osculatory art as the mere effect of
high spirits and hoyden playfulness, had it not been for the hypocrisy
that she was displaying towards my messmate. I had translated Gil Blas
at school, and I therefore set her down for an intrepid coquette, if not
_une franche aventuriere_. However, though I pitied my messmate, that
was no reason why I should not enjoy my dinner.

That day I liked my little saffron-coloured captain much better. He
played the host very agreeably. He made as many inquiries as he dared,
without too much displaying his own ignorance, as